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Slasher Gurbnot surveyed the lowly creatures he supposed he should call his team.
He trusted his Warrior brethren implicitly, they were kindred men, hardened through battle, zealous in their mission to show these puny other races the powerful dark glory that is Chaos.

But.....

These beastmen......

He had found them outcast from the other tribes, alone and shunned. Their strange customs, making them a target for the other tribes. They insisted on strange outlandish names for themselves, and insisted on time to themselves each night to perform their strange rituals.

He walked up on their party one night, crowded around the fire, curious as to what magic they were invoking.

He could normally understand the beastman language, but they were using phrases and words he did not understand. Slasher listened carefully to the Beastmen as they performed their ritual, which appeared like a strange game to him....

Norman:    "You have rolled a five, your player has succeeded in paying the bill. What do you want to do next?"
Graham:      "Ummm, errrr, try and smile at the waitress, and leave without tearing her limb from limb"
Norman:    "Unfortunately your failure to tip means you lose five courtesy points, but after successfully eating the meal you have 5 more health"
Barry:        "this is tense stuff. Sorry guys I missed the correct move."       

Strange customs indeed. He asked the one who appeared to be the leader what it was about soon after.

He only hoped this "Playing of the Roles" they did in their spare time did not distract them on the playing field.

I thought I'd start my own thread for match reports and growing fluff on my team.


I've shamelessly lifted the idea of Reversed Role Playing Games from James Bibby's Ronan the Barbarian books*, which has a group of Orcs which indulge in a bit of fantasy where they play "Normal Lives"


* (They are worth a read for the groan-tastic laboured puns** alone, but they were/are fun and silly fantasy books if you see them)

** My favourite joke ( which I've probably mangled) was about the famous manufacturer of Orc swords Orc Astral. Famous for the pure cut and singing noise these swords made as they sliced through the air, their most popular model was known as the Man hoover.
These swords were rightly feared by the men who explored the caves where the Orcs were near, and truly men screamed and shook in terror when they heard the sounds of Orc Astral Man Hoovers in the Dark.

Slasher looked out over his team.

They had fought in two games, and though they were undefeated, he was unsatisfied.

His bloodlust was far from sated, and his beastmen, though they had proved adept at ball handling, had failed to cause the pain the Chaos Gods required.

It was time to satisfy them.

He took the winnings from the most recent game (against another group of those weakling Elves), and invested.

He ushered the Minotaur into the training area of his team - to an awestruck silence......

Slasher looked out over the camp, and took a deep long draught from his blood wine.

They were victorious. Although as a team they had spilt little blood, those wretched beastmen had actually proved pretty adept at handling the ball and scoring leading to victory.

Although the gods had taught him a sharp and pointed lesson in the last game, against those cursed dwarfs, they had proved victorious overall and Slasher was content.

In the heat of celebration, and in the grip of his blood wine, Norman the beastman had told of another great tournament they were keen on, on the other side of the mountains, the great all sides Nerdish Anorak Convention.

Now he didn't know what nerd or Anorak meant, but he wanted glorious victory in another tournament.

A few months the other side of the mountain would mean they would miss the next RT tournament, but it would be worth it....

Slasher stomped back into the enclosure where the next tournament would be undertaken.

He was in a foul mood.

Norman the beast man had not told him they weren't going to a blood bowl tournament until they were in the mountains.

And on his return the news the missed tournament had been won by a bunch of filfthy rats and puny elves had made his mood blacker still.

He wanted blood. And violence.

Slasher was confused.
- He remembered going to the Blood Bowl field to bring pain to those little dribbles of snot the Goblins.
- He remembered Preparing for the game,
- He remembered the Goblins ignoring the Wizard who looked keen to join in on the Match, and instead Giving lots of cash to the referee.
- The rest was very Hazy.
- It was all a blur but he thought he remembered, goals, and Violence, and goblins flying overhead.
- That last was clearly nonsense
- The Final thing he thought he remembered before awaking the morning after was the Disgruntled looking wizard, cursing and chanting something about "If I can't play, I will make sure no-one will have played a game today"

Slasher was not sure what had happened. His players didn't look like they had been in a battle, and he had no winnings.
Yet his team did play the game.


Didn't they?