Follow the Bloodstained Road
By Noskull Rierohl
Our latest installment of Raw And Unbattered finds us at the second DragonBBL season opening dinner and awards ceremony, where our immaculately dressed reporter and carouser extraordinaire Noskull Rierohl stands on the blood-soaked carpet in front of the Hall of Doom awaiting the guests.
NR: (Adjusting his tie) Ladies and Gentlebeasts. Welcome one and all to the second season of carnage and cookies, of destruction and donuts, of bloodshed and biscuits, the DragonBBL. As you can see behind me, the pomp and pageantry this year has achieved new bounds. Never before have so many peasants been slaughtered to die a carpet, or villages looted for door prizes, or pristine virgin woods and meadows razed just for the hell of it...And i do believe this is the Team Captain of the Harem pulling up in that delicious hot pink Ferrari. Yes! it's her!
Alina steps of out of Ferrari's passenger seat, accompanied by a collective gasp from the crowd. Also accompanied by a rather Large Spiked Harbinger of Doom in the form of The Crusher, captain of the Rage Sharks. The Crusher steps between Alina and a now slobbering Noskull Rierohl and casually plucks two particularly riveted bystanders from the crowd. Pounding them together in an emotionally moving live art morse code performance of "Step Away From the Hot Woman Before I Do This To You", The Crusher, resplendent at 7 Feet tall in his black and red Chaos Armour concludes with a deep bow. Alina adjusts her thigh-high "Blitz-me" boots and steps up to the microphone, always in her element in front of a camera.
Alina: (purring seductively, she looks deeply into Noskull's eyes as she points casually off to the side at another bystander, who made the mistake of letting his gaze linger too long on her Cataclysmic back-side. The Crusher roars and storms off into the crowd, pounding the poor little bugger's head down into his shoulders. Satisfied, the Crusher trots back to Alina's side, where she scratches him behind the helmet.) Mr. Rierohl, you're looking absolutely not-totally-repulsive today.
NR: (mustering all his charm and keenly honed wit) Blarg.
Alina: (eyebrow raised in confusion and slight revulsion) Um. yes. Ew. Well, later then. (she motions to The Crusher) Be a dear, and do that thing you do...
The Crusher: Kapow, kapow! (He roars as he crashes through the crowd, creating a nice soft carpet of people for Alina to strut into the Hall on.)
NR: Well, that was fascinating. (staring at the cameraman) Stop shaking, Bubba. Here comes a giant hearse. Who could it be?
A massive, gold-leaf and colourful-streamer laden barge of death pulls up, and a huge, battered, and blood spattered mummy lumbers out. Three ghoul helpers skitter out after him and clear a way down the carpet. The giant mummy raise his hands and slowly staggers towards Noskull. Slowly. Ever so slowly. With a pronounced stagger.
NR: (muttering to himself) c'mon...go for it...Ladies and Gentlebeasts! You know him! You were probably injured by him! Bhandayd! How's retirement treating you, Mr Ayd?
B: (looking down at Noskull, and with an obviously great effort) Hhhhrrrrurrrr...
NR: (with a perplexed glance over at the camera) Um, please pretend I'm saying something here that would not provoke you to kill me, okay?
B: (straightens up, which causes the Creaking Sound of the Ages) Glllllllllluuuuuuurrrrrgggg (The giant mummy slooooooowly staggers away towards the entrance)
NR: As always, a truly emotional and revealing Bhandayd at his most candid. We promise you the best, and we bring you the...what in the 32.7 Hells is that???
The camera whirls around to the street, where a large wagon approaches. The wagon, pulled by slaves and clearly painted in Mad Howlers colors, has a very loud and obnoxious band in its rear, and they're playing for all they're worth. Unbeknownst to the Howlers, their wagon has also picked up a rather large convoy of what look like rookie Bloodbowl teams. The strange self-contained parade comes to a stop and the Mad Howlers step out as the band on the wagon breaks into a rather spirited polk-you-in-the-spleen-a.
NR: (still looking past at the wagon as Blarg Blargson and his Mad Howlers approach) Blarg! Always a pleasure. I hope on this festive occasion that you'll break character and pry a few words from that stern, silent visage of yours?
Blarg: (wondering what the racket behind him is, he is distractedly trying to see past his team, who are crowded around him tightly in an attempt to get some facetime on camera) Um. Yes. But only on Tuesdays, Mr. Rierohl.
NR: Um, say again, Blarg?
Blarg: Oh, absolutely. Well, it's been a real treat. Bye now.
The Howlers rush by, eager to get to the buffet inside. Out on the carpet, a rookie Norse and Dwarf team are high-fiving each other, the bystanders, each other some more, the hired security Orcs and each other again as they approach.
NR: (approaching the dwarf team, Noskull prods his microphone forward at their coach) By your nametag, I take it you are Ez. K. Yell and these are your Screaming Midgets, yes?
EZ: (proudly thrusting his hairy chin forward, he hooks his thumbs under his suspenders). I AM HE! WE ARE THEY! WOE BE IT TO OUR FOES! WOE! WE HAVE A SECRET WEAPON! SOMETHING NO ONE HAS A CHANCE OF COUNTERING! IT IS COMPLETELY UNDETECTABLE!
NR: (pointing towards the back of the group of dwarves) Um, that looks suspiciously like an elf wearing a clip-on beard there, Mr. Yell...
EZ: (gesturing for his boys to follow quickly) ER. IT'S BEEN REALLY NICE CHATTING WITH YOU. WE'VE REALLY GOT TO BE GOING NOW. BYE.
NR: (rubbing his ears and shouting to be heard over a large, loud mob of Norsemen waiting their turn.) LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! PRESENTING THE, uh, THE...(looks down at his clipboard) SCREAMING VIKINGS! COULD YOU KICK IT DOWN A NOTCH BOYS? I CAN HARDLY HEAR MYSELF THINK!
PUNCHLENEZSON: (large and impressive, in a barechested, drunk sort of way, the norseman proudly faces the camera, picks up Noskull and holds him like a microphone) Fleugi Floerga, dreaindor Rierohl! Blorgie Blorgie!
NR: Um, I don't understand your language but... (masterfully recovering from the awkward situation, Noskull pushes on) ...obviously, you do.
P: (nodding sagely, he sets Noskull down) Bork bork bork. (the Vikings turn and walk into the hall.)
Dodging through the crowds at such speed that they leave a contrail behind them, Sceolan of the Hunt and Skrittar Quarzo of the Machine race for the door. Noskull tries to step in front of both of them, but only the wood elf is polite enough to stop for the camera. On his way past, Skrittar quickly fouls the doorman before zipping through the door.
NR: Thanks for taking a moment, Sceolan. We at NarfTV have been eager to talk to you for a while now. Do you have any comments about the upcoming...
SCEOLAN: (vibrating like a hummingbird, and actually hovering for stretches at a time, Sceolan is obviously exerting tremendous effort to remain stationary.) thankyouverymuchmr.rierohlit'sagreatpleasuretobeheretoday. ijustwantedtoassureallmyfansthatiamindeedokandwillbeplayingthisseason. iamnotaballhog, andamonlydoingthedutysetuponmebywychwethylandthatistotrytrytrytowinwinwin. afterall,everymemberofourteamisjustasvaluableasiamtoourtotaleffort. ok.thankyouverymuchbuti'vegottobedodgingnow. kthx. (Sceolan nods his head rapidly and zooms past Noskull into the hall.)
NR: Well. I'm exhausted. They're queuing up now, ladies and gentlebeasts. Next up appears to be...look at the size of this mummy! It could only be Anoth "Big Mummy" Tset, of the Bonestealers approaching with the dark and lethal wight Plagued, of the Creeping Flesh.
AT: (his every step shadowed by Plagued, they arrive at the camera together. Anoth snatches the mike out of Noskull's hands and approaches the camera very closely) I AM THE CHAMP! I AM THE GREATEST! BHANDAYD's A CHUMP! HE AIN'T GOT NOTHIN'. HE'S DUCKIN' ME!
NR: You might wanna have that conversation directly with The Big Bhandayd himself, Anoth. He's already inside at the banquet.
AT: What??? (Knocks the camera down and plows into Noskull as he charges towards the entrance, albeit verrrrrrrry verrrrrrry slowly, again shadowed by Plagued) The chump's mine! He can't stay retired forever!
Marching forward, the ever-polite Hoary Dervishes approach tentatively, permeating the area with the delicious aroma of vanilla. Appearing rather frightened, the team is huddled safely behind their two big players. Their coach, Buttercup, approaches Noskull.
NR: Ladies and Gentlebeasts, the famed Buttercup of the Dervishes is here in the flesh.
BC: Flesh??? Where? I thought they were here already. (Buttercup skitters behind the big Treant and hides)
NR: No, no. The Creeping Flesh aren't attending. Their bus drove off a cliff on the way over here after being hit by a Giant Flaming Meteorite and struck by Lightning after running out of gas. (Noskull coaxes Buttercup out from behind the big tree with a muffin)
BC: *munch munch* Thank you. mmmm, Death Muffins...
NR: Your second team looks, ah, hungry for success this season, after snatching a victory from the Rage Sharks in preseason, Buttercup.
BC: (looking angry, or as angry as a halfling can anyway) Yes. Well. I hope we aren't seated next to the Short and Surlys again this year. At last year's season opener, they thought we were the pre-meal buffet. It took me the whole season to replace the Tasty Dervishes with the lean, mean, Hoary Dervishes you see before you.
NR: Well, not so lean, anyway. Speaking of the Surlys, here they come, everybody!
BC: It was nice talking to you but we really gotta be going now. *sprint sprint sprint*
NR: Here they are, the celebrated Cannibals of Cabalvision, the dethroned Bitches of Nuffle, the Bashiest Barshers to ever Bash a Barsh, the Surlys!!!
Funky Fleetfoot: Outta tha way, boy! Yer blockin' da food!
NR: Now, now, Funky. Let the poor little buggers (tm) eat in peace!
FF: Roight. I warnded ya! (gestures to a 4' high and 6' wide fireplug of a dwarf.) Dorin, clear da way!
Dorin Kneecrusha: (head down in the classic dwarven martial art pose, he charges forward to chants of Blitz! Blitz! Blitz! from the rest of his teammates) Dis is gonna be good!
NR: (jumping out of the way as fast as he can) I guess we'd better call it a night. Thanks for watching Late Night With GrabbaGrabba. We leave you with the following message, overheard during a Blistering Barnacles match earlier on.
"Skinks are magical creatures. born in a time of faerie, where dodging was but a simple matter."
- Cobra Commander
