“Year 1, Summer - BWM3 vs FOE3 round 5:

Seated on his impressive wooden throne, Lyndon the Seafarer, head coach and founder of Amanar’s Archivists, peered through the open window of his room on the top floor of the Jagged Harlequin. The window offered a clear view on the harbor, where dockworkers were loading various types of cargo from an ocean ship onto a river boat. In the distance he noticed his ship, the Juniper Monocle. It swayed gently next to the quay, but everything seemed to be normal. His thoughts drifted away, despite the never-ending activity going on below his eyes. For several months now he’d been leading this expedition to the Old World, but so far he’d found no clue whatsoever on the seadrake’s whereabouts. Where could Amanar have gone to? And why? And where would he get his first piece of useful information? So many questions, so little answers. A knock on the door brought him back to reality. The door opened and a team of carriers walked in. “Ahum, we’re here for the chair, sir”, one of them addressed the sea captain. “Of course you are”, Lyndon replied while getting up and out of the chair. It was the night of the next game and he had ordered his throne to be carried off to the stadium, where it would be installed next to the bench. From there he would have an excellent view on the pitch. “Off with it then”, he encouraged the hesitant men who were wondering how on earth they would get the massive chair out of the room and in the stadium. But that wasn’t Lyndon’s problem. He gathered his velvet gloves, put on his cape and set off to the stadium. There was a game tonight and that deserved his attention now.

Hours later Lyndon was once more seated on his chair. He had been satisfied when he’d remarked that the humans had somehow managed to get his throne to the stadium. He’d just finished giving the latest instructions to his team. His crew was ready to face the Eternal Mists of Anmyr, a collection of obscure spirits from Athel Loren. What they were looking for on a bloodbowl pitch was an even bigger mystery than the disappearance of Amanar and he was glad he didn’t have to provide an answer to that enigma. Seated on the bench next to him was the wizard he’d hired. Since he’d gotten involved in bloodbowl, Lyndon had noticed the occasional recruitment of a wizard by some coaches, often with devastating effect. Today was the first time the Archivists would be backed up by magic. Still considering what the best use of the wizard would be, Lyndon’s attention was suddenly brought back to the game when he heard the referee blow his whistle to announce the kick-off.

The Archivists opened the first half kicking. Lyndon didn’t need to wait long to be sure of when to call for the wizard’s aid. By turn three an excellent opportunity presented itself. “So, Mr. Feuerbach, time to prove my investment was worth its hefty price”, Lyndon addressed the pyromancer seated next to him on the bench. The wizard, recognizable by his red attire and fiery beard remained silent. Instead he stood up, walked towards the edge of the pitch, started an incantation while heavily gesticulating and launched an incredible mass of fire onto the playing field. The fireball fully hit four of the unsuspecting spirits, including the ball carrier. This created an immense opening in the Eternal Mist’s screen and an excellent opportunity for the Archivists to steal the ball. Satisfied with the result of the wizard’s intervention, a smile settled on Lyndon’s face. Eldain Greenripple eventually picked up the ball. The situation evolved into a scramble during the next few turns, but by now the sea elves had the numbers advantage. The Archivists slowly advanced until it was wise to score in turn seven: 0-1 for the Archivists. The remaining turn wouldn’t change anything anymore, so that the sea elves would lead by halftime.

The second half started with the Archivists receiving the ball. They slowly advanced on the left side of the pitch, but found their offensive grounded after a few turns. Somehow the spirits had found some openings in the sea elves’ heavy armor. Being reduced to only 8 players, Lyndon instructed them to strategically retreat towards their own end line. Scoring wasn’t necessary, what mattered now was not losing the ball. Despite the heavy pressure the Archivist’s defensive line held out and eventually the win was secured. Lyndon thanked Feuerbach once more for his decisive services and joined his crew to celebrate the win. Another victory for the Archivists!
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