“CIBBL: Year Six - Spring: Athel Loren: round 1:

Timaris Stormwing had carefully laid out his plans for this season. Athel Loren would belong to its rightful owners, the Meddlers. There would be no excuses for failure. Winter had been kind, with barely any snow at all. The team was in perfect shape and ready to reclaim the title.

True Roots of Khaine were the elves' first opponent this spring. The treemen inspired awe and even fear, but playing ball was not their strength. This would be an easy game, for sure. The elves were receiving but got blitzed in turn 1. The ball was too far from the line of scrimmage to be threatened, so the Roots focused on damage instead. Isilvar risked premature death when brutally fouled, but luckily the team's apothecary timely intervened. Nevertheless a pearl of sweat already trickled down Timaris' brow. "Filthy forest spites", he cursed. "Never trust a spite", Mereia added. "Their capricious nature is known to all Asrai", the former catcher continued. Once retired, she had taken up the role of assistant coach. Turn 1 saw Aetharon snaking a dodge, prematurely ending the Meddlers' first turn. "By Kurnous", Timaris shouted, "what is going on here"? The first game of the new season hadn't exactly started well for the wood elves. Some tree threw a spite forward to pick up the ball, but a wardancer kicked it loose the next turn.

For a while the elves would look for an opening, while moving up and down the field. They would find none. By turn 6 - time was slowly ticking away - Nimrodel felt he shouldn't wait much longer - and decided to move forward and dodge through the forest of trees. After all, that's what elves do best. Nevertheless, Nimrodel slipped over a low-hanging branch and went down, losing the ball. "Loec's balls", a by now clearly frustrated Timaris exclaimed. "What is going on here?", he added. "Why, Nimrodel's pride got the better of him", Mereia replied. She hadn't exactly been on good terms with her formal rival on the catcher position, and that sentiment hadn't passed. "Obviously, he should have left the ball to Hauclir before initiating that move", she continued. Timaris reacted with a nervous smile. "Let me remind you that the task of the assistant coach is to advise me", he said. "That means you analyze the situation before any action is taken, not after". Mereia ignored the remark and continued observing the game. She knew such a rookie mistake would never happened to her.

The ball was recovered by a spite, before Aetharon kicked it loose again. Mereia - the player, not the assistant coach - picked it up but got tripped by a diving tackling spite. Next turn the ball was evacuated by the Roots. A blitz on the ball resulted in a push-back only. Then disaster struck as Quercus Wrathroot launched Dryopteris the Pale who ran in the touchdown: 0-1 at halftime.

Timaris Stormwing was too flabbergasted to say anything. So Mereia did it in his stead. "Not going too well, is it?". Still no reaction. "Are you sure this game should have been an easy one?". "Over to plan B", Timaris offered. "We go all in now. This isn't over yet."

The Meddlers had received clear instructions for the second half. "Sack the ball and score", Timaris had shouted to his troops. "Rinse and repeat", he'd continued. "Simple as that", Mereia had concluded, with a smirk on her face. Whether Timaris hadn't noticed or chose to ignore, she couldn't tell. In any case, the elves started attacking the ball-carrier furiously. Aetharon managed to kick the ball loose in turn 1, but the scatter was bad, leaving it in the open. Next turn, Morlanna did the same. This time Hauclir managed to pick it up. He threw the ball to Jokleel, who started sprinting towards the end zone. This would be a quick equalizer. "So far, so good" Timaris observed. But one turn later his heart skipped a beat when Caelir snaked a dodge. No equalizer yet. "Tell me", Mereia said, "what was that plan of yours again?". Timaris' face started turning a light shade of purple. "I don't remember it included stumbling face down into the dirt", Mereia continued in a nonchalant tone. "Of course, I'm only an assistant-coach, so perhaps I didn't grasp all the details of the battle plan".

Meanwhile Morlanna had been fouled off the pitch by another insolent spite. The cracking sound of her leg being splintered was audible on the bench. By now Timaris' face had turned from purple to green. "This isn't happening...", was all he had to offer. "I think it is", Mereia reacted. "Last time I checked, I was fully awake". By then Morlanna had been carried off the pitch. Both coaches watched silently as she was being sent to the dug-out. "Looks like her best playing days are over too", Mereia oracled. Again, Timaris kept quiet. Things went from bad to worse when Jokleel somehow managed to get himself pushed into the crowd by a bunch of spites. The ball landed in Aetharon's hands. It was up to him now to save the day for the elves.

Only six elves were left on the pitch. Even Beldroth, the treeman, had been badly hurt. Aetharon decided to ignore his coach's advice. Scoring now would only result in a loss, he reasoned. Best to keep the ball safe and save what could still be saved. Some spites still tried to kick the ball loose, but they never managed to pull it off. By turn 8 Aetharon ran in the ball, securing the draw: 1-1. Not what the elves had hoped for initially, but given the dramatic evolution of the game, it was probably the most realistic result.

When everyone had left the field, Timaris Stormwing wandered towards the spot where Aertan had kicked a particularly annoying spite to death. He bended over, collected the tiny dead body and carried it off. No doubt it would serve him later, some way or another...”