“A solid half-elf with spiky auburn hair stood near the tunnel leading out of the Blood Bowl stadium, nervously rocking on the balls of her feet and twisting the microphone in her hand. The Dreadheim Poetic Society started filing back toward the locker room, which lay past her down the hall, led by Kyler “the Drop.”

“Kara Hardcastle here, reporter for the Dreadheim Star Beacon. Would you mind telling us how it feels to have played such a huge role in the opening Spring match? How do you feel after such a resounding win?” She stuck the microphone out at Kyler.

Kyler stared at her. No, more like stared past her. He was drenched in blood speckled with bits of bone; a clump of hair and scalp hung forgotten in one fist. He opened his mouth but Kara couldn’t understand the words he was saying. Well, that was wrong. She COULD understand them, just not as concepts her brain could capture. It was like being able to taste a picture of a black, pestilent puddle of glass shards. She almost dropped the microphone.

Kyler turned and walked away, back down toward the locker room. After about five minutes, Kara was able to stop herself from twitching. She smoothed out her blazer and looked up to see Miriam Shadowbane looking at her with a wry smile.

“Don’t worry about trying to talk to Kyler,” Miriam said. “He somehow got his hands on one of the forbidden Chaos limericks and recited it before the match. Damn that must have been a good one! I hope he didn’t lose the book, we could use a performance like that again.”

Kara nodded. “The fans went wild when he outright killed that journeyman on the first block of the match. And then to send a Tong to the hospital with a fractured skull, that was incredibly brutal. But even I felt my stomach turn when he snapped the neck of that Darksoul on turn 16 – you had already won the match at that point, it was just gratuitous!”

Miriam frowned. “You’ve obviously never harnessed the dark energies of the Chaos gods. There’s no way to stop the bloodlust, you just have to ride it out. Why do you think we gave Kyler such a wide lead back to the lockers? If I were you I’d stay as far away from him tonight as I could. Anyway, enough about him, don’t you want to know all about my stunning blitz on the ball carrier where I caught the ball and ran it in at the last moment of the first half?”

Kara brightened up. “Yes, tell me all about what was going through your mind! What a play!”

“Well, as you could probably see, Coach completely forgot what turn it was” Miriam laughed. “Didn’t even bother to hold Dead Peter back in order to pick up the ball and run it in, instead had him run over there to assist. So as I’m blitzing Uldub I’m thinking, ‘Miriam, this is your time to shine, just like Sigmar told you, you’re the true north star.’” She stopped talking suddenly and looked up to the sky with a wistful smile. “Sigmar, I heard you,” she whispered.

“Anyway! The ball came right to me so I caught it, no big deal, and that was that. A perfect touchdown.”

“It was! And it put you up 2-0 before the half, that must have felt awesome, especially after the fans stormed the field and the ref had to turn the clock back, giving the Savages an extra turn,” Kara pointed out. “I thought for sure the Poetic Society was sunk when I saw that.”

“It was Sigmar’s will: he knew I needed the proper stage to shine down from, and he sent those fans out on the field to witness my glory,” Miriam beamed. “Did you know I have written 16 volumes of odes and sonnets, all dedicated to Sigmar? I have! All available to be purchased from my personal publishing imprint. Don’t worry, here’s an order form.” She thrust a parchment into Kara’s pocket, leaned in close, and said, “Look us up any time. Volume 16 is the best one yet.”

Kara blushed but Miriam’s gaze drifted to where Titus was signing autographs with fans. She suddenly scowled and started muttering to herself. Then she blurted, “What were the fans thinking! They voted Titus Beaknose MVP? What the hell was that about? He did NOTHING. Just stood there looking… froppy.”

Kara regained her composure and said, “Well, what do you think? There have always been rumors…”

“I think they voted for him because he’s the son of the damn mayor, that’s what I think! Nepotism, it’s rampant in this town. Wait, what rumors?” Miriam was suddenly interested.

“Why don’t we talk about it off the record?” Kara handed Miriam her card. “I’m free tomorrow night, and I like the Drowned Rat. Really horrid mixed drinks, just the right thing to serve with a slice of Beaknose gossip.”

“I can’t wait.” ”