Chapter 10 

- You stupid piece of shit! Did I tell you to dance on the battlefield Korhil?! You were supposed to take your opponent down on a hard block and then punch him right in the nose! Then why the fuck did you dodge and let him reach a thrower! А?! - Kazran scolded the poor elf while I helped up Rook, a thrower I'd knocked to the ground earlier. 

- Oh, thanks Baha. Damn elf, what the hell do we need him for? He wants to play tough Blitzer even though we have you. - Rook picked up the ball and watched Kazran yell at the elf. 

- What can we do? We work with what we have. There is no dwarf blitzer in our team and I doubt we'll have time to find and groom one before our first game. And we don't have much money to spare. So, Rook, we grit our teeth and keep going. Trust me, we won't regret taking him. We just have to get through these difficult times. - I also looked at Korhil, who after hearing a lot of complaints and curses from Kazran went running around the field as punishment for his mistake. 

Remember I mentioned that Korhil's story is a tragicomedy. Let me tell you why. 

Korhil was born into a noble and wealthy family of High Elves. His ancestors were politicians and warlords, but most notably Blood Bowl players. Many players in his family made it into the Blood Bowl Hall of Fame, albeit sometimes posthumously. So you could say that his fate was predetermined, and when his interest and talent for the game were recognized, he was almost immediately enlisted as a future Blood Bowl star. Many already saw him as a great catcher or thrower. But Korhil had his vision about his future sports career. 

He constantly saw elves show great pass and evasion skills. But when it came to close contact with the enemy things weren't so good. Only blitzers showed a power game, and one furious fight between an elven blitzer and a black orc appealed him so much that he decided to become a blitzer. Plus he was annoyed by commentators who made jokes about sissies in shining armor, and he wanted to get back at them by becoming a star elf blitzer. 

At first, his decision to become a blitzer caused his relatives to smile and joke. They thought it was such a childish whim and even appeased it at first. His relatives thought that with time it would go away and when the youthful revolt was over he could start proper training, not those silly games with dumbbells and punching bags. Heh, they were so wrong. 

Korhil continued to train and prepare to become a blitzer. His parents and other relatives frowned more and more with each passing year seeing how he wasn't going to follow in his ancestors footsteps. Scandals, threats, punishments. But Korhil kept going towards his goal. Even when he was forced to play the role of a thrower in the school team he sabotaged the match by conducting a power play. 

His parents even called in special mental healers and psychologists to check and cure the guy. But here they faced a failure, all specialists said that there was nothing wrong with him and he was just a very determined guy. 

Realizing that this problem could not be solved by ordinary means Korhil's relatives went the way of intrigue. The guy was finishing his school and was already planning to go looking for a club, but his parents used their connections and money so that no club would accept him as a blitzer. And if there was anyone who would risk hiring Korhil, that club would be in a lot of trouble. 

When Korhil found out about this he went to one of the temples and swore before all the elven gods that he would not step out of his path and used a knife to injure his eye. When the blood dripping from the knife sprinkled the altar it glowed and a special seal appeared over the wound, which eventually took the form of a tattoo. Thus Korhil burned all bridges and there was no turning back for him. His family was shocked by what happened and made a scandal. But there was nothing they could do. An oath sealed by gods is not a joke. 

Free from the intrigue of his relatives, Korhil returned to his search for the club. He thought nothing could stop him now, but reality was harsh. No club was willing to take him, one-eyed and young he was not the best candidate to say the least. Of course, he was offered to spend a couple dozen or even a hundred years as an apprentice and assistant. Gain experience and so on. But Korhil did not want to warm the bench and decided to continue his search in the Old World. 

At first many people were not against taking an elf in their team, but when they found out about his eye and youth they kicked him out. So he wandered around looking for idiots who would accept him until he found out about us. 

Of course, we could have chased him away, but we didn't risk anything. His youth was a hindrance, though, especially for dwarves, for whom age played an important role in their society, and let's just say they weren't particularly fond of long-eared ones. That's one side of it. But on the other hand, when they discovered his story, they respected him. In their eyes, he showed a stubbornness and determination worthy of Davi. Bron even took him under his patronage, he liked the story about the oath, because he too had made a special oath in front of the gods. And along with Bron, he had my support. His personality played a role here, I too, like him, have come a long way for my dream, and also a great potential for growth according to the data from the scans. 

- Baha! Bron! Take this dumbass and give him a full-contact block practice. Take turns beating him up. Bron on defense, Baha on offense. - Kazran called us in with his foot atop a downed Korhil. 

- Let's do it! Uncle Bron will show you how to take your opponent down with a punch to the groin. - with playful tone, Bron lifted the poor elf up. 

For a quarter of an hour, Bronn tortured Korhil. He calmly I would even say with a sense of boredom took on all of the elf's attacks. If Korhil hesitated even for a moment, he would be hit in the groin or face by a strong fist. By the end of the training Bron didn't even hit him, a powerful thrust with his belly forward was enough to knock the tired elf off his feet. 

- At least he is making progress. Though he's still got a ways to go. Baha, he's all yours. Just let him catch a breath. And a pint of Bugman's pint will help to revitalize him. - Bron waved his hand to one of the dwarves next to the beer dispenser, who, seeing the elf lying exhausted, grinned and came to us with a keg of beer. 

- Hmm, won't we be punished for getting a youngster drunk? Maybe we should just give him a sniff and drop a couple of drops on his lips. Last time he passed out after a couple mugs and had a hangover. - I rub my chin thoughtfully, looking at Korhil, with the dwarf standing next to him holding a keg of beer. 

- Nah. Since he's on our team, let him get used to Bugman's. Now open your mouth and have a drink for Uncle Bronn. Don't you dare to break my fucking heart, Korhil, drink it all without spilling even a drop. - I laughed out loud at that sort of care and at the sight of Korhil trying not to choke on his beer. 

But instead of a mug Bron overdid it a bit and made Korhil drink a third of the keg, which led to the fact that first the poor elf got tipsy and then went into an alcoholic coma. 

- Korhil! Come on, asshole, wake up! - Bron tried to bring Korhil to his senses by slapping him. 

I just sighed, realizing it would take some time. I was just about to take off my helmet and stretch my neck when suddenly a tree appeared out of nowhere on the field. I was so stunned that I even missed being hit by a branch and flew away. The last thing my brain remembered before I blacked out was the walking tree scattering everyone standing on its way and emptying the drink barrels at the edge of the field and the roar of anger of dwarves.