Chapter 15

The Drunken Tree Guard vs. The Brightosaurs

Our first victory, even if it was a technical one due to circumstances beyond our control—who could've imagined such a blast that half the enemy team would immediately qualify for the death list?—gave the team a much-needed morale boost.

But Kazran had a different opinion. Once the hungover team gathered on the field after celebrating our win, we started what could only be described as a light version of hell month. He drove us so hard that even my endurance started screaming, "Forget this, I'm out!"

I can understand his reasoning. The human players are still far below the average pro-league standard. The dwarves aren't much better off—most of them rely on racial resilience and their armor to stay afloat. Experience, especially playing in a mixed roster, is sorely lacking. And this brutal training regimen aims to hammer out any sense of pride or arrogance. A win over goblins might inflate egos, but in a game where blood flows freely, pride is a fast ticket either to the graveyard or to a life of crippling disability.

Korhil and I were put in a separate training group. We are meant to become the weapons that will help the team win enough games and buy time for the club to survive long enough for the other players to turn into real pros.

The elf surpasses me in agility and speed but completely loses out in strength and endurance. Plus, he's still lacking in mental toughness. Without that, his chances of becoming a star are slim—even if he's faster than the quickest Skaven. Speed alone won't help him if he panics or freezes when things don't go according to plan or an unexpected factor appears. So, they beat him, scare him, and make him nervous. Dirty tricks of varying levels of cruelty are used—from the trivial, like a kick to the groin, to the extreme, like being pelted with rocks and garbage from the stands. Everything is fair game to, as the dwarves say, "grow him a beard, even if it's only on his balls."

So we suffer, cry, and feel like dying, but we keep chewing on that cactus. The next match is only a month away.

One Month Later: Commentary Booth

"Dear Cabalvision viewers and fans in the stands, I'm Gloin Fingeraxe, welcoming you to today's game! Joining me in commentary today is Horst Ironjaw, a veteran of the Norse Windheim Valkyries! Give him a round of applause!"

"Thank you, Gloin. Today we have the Drunken Tree Guard facing off against the Brightosaurs. Both teams showed promise in their opening matches."

"Promise, Horst? I thought the explosion caused by the Drunken Tree was far more spectacular than the Brightosaurs' bloody but dull Kroxigor feeding frenzy against the Dungeon Delinquents."

"Oh, that was spectacular, but I think it was more of a lucky stunt or improvisation than a polished team skill."

"Why do you think so?"

"They let those long-nosed bastards escape instead of finishing them off."

"Fair enough. But for me, the Drunken Tree Guard is still the favorite for this match. And here they come! Let's welcome them with some thunderous applause!"

The dwarf commentator begins clapping but quickly stops.

"Uh, Gloin, are we sure we didn't mix up the match or the day? This team looks more like freshly raised undead." Horst, confused, pulls off his thick wig, revealing his bald head.

"I'm shocked too. Let me check." Gloin whispers with his assistant, who hands him a note.

"Well, folks, it's official—this is indeed the Drunken Tree Guard. Their current appearance is the result of, um, rigorous training."

"I've heard that after a good training session, a player should look exhausted, but this is overkill."

"Agreed. And here come the Brightosaurs! Unlike their opponents, they look... well, more alive. It seems the Drunken Tree's coach might have gone overboard in preparing his team, and they're going to have a rough time today."

"You know, earlier you said this team looked like fresh undead?"

"Yes. And?"

"Well, I feel like they're about to make that official."

"Yeah, I'm starting to think so too. Let's hope the match is either interesting or just bloody. They're lining up now. The referee hands the ball to the Drunken Tree Guard to kick things off. Whistle! The match begins!"

On the Field

Our team wasn't in the best shape. The training had beaten the arrogance out of many players, but we hadn't had time to recover. On top of that, the human part of the team had fallen ill on the way here with some strange combination of diarrhea and coughing. Ideally, we should have tried to reschedule the match, but that's not how things work here. You either play or you take an automatic loss.

Even though the players didn't look great, thanks to healing magic and dwarven folk remedies, they were able to play. Not well, but they could play. Kazran wasn't thrilled about it either, but as I mentioned earlier, we didn't have much of a choice.

The whistle blew.

The ball flew toward the opposing team, and I charged at a Saurus standing in my way.

"Rraargh!" he roared, charging at me as well.

We collided, and I had to strain my muscles to their limits.

"Damn, I've gotten soft fighting weaker opponents," I muttered, trying to knock him off balance with a sharp sidestep.

The Saurus couldn't hold his footing and fell. I quickly kneed him in the face, sending him into a light knockout. I turned and ran to help Korhil, who had been knocked down by another Saurus and was getting pummeled.

I delivered a sidekick to the unprotected stomach of the Saurus attacking Korhil. Distracted by Korhil, the lizard wasn't paying attention to his surroundings. My kick knocked the wind out of him, and as he clutched his stomach, he exposed his throat. The creature's skin was thick, so the small spikes on my armored glove only left thin scratches. Still, the strike worked, and the Saurus fell, gasping for air.

"Korhil! Get up! We need to intercept the ball!" I yelled, grabbing the elf's hand and helping him to his feet.

But just as we were about to chase down the chameleon skink trying to find a gap in our defense, the Saurus I had tackled earlier came charging at me again.

"Ugh." The enraged Saurus hit me like a cannonball. Luckily, my stance was right, and I managed to hold him back.

We locked in place like two sumo wrestlers, neither gaining the upper hand. But I had an advantage in numbers. Korhil climbed onto the Saurus's back and began pounding his head. The angry, beaten lizard tried to break free, but I held his arms tightly, waiting for Korhil to knock him out.

"Fall! FALL!" Korhil shouted, raining blows on the Saurus.

"Hit the eyes! His skin's too thick!" I yelled, trying to suppress the urge to vomit from the stench of the Saurus's breath. "Hurry up!"

Finally, one of Korhil's strikes hit the Saurus in the eye. Instinctively, the lizard reached for the injured spot, giving me an opening. I released his arms and grabbed his knee, pulling hard. The Saurus collapsed into an awkward split. I kicked him in the chest and, alongside Korhil, began punching his face until he stopped moving.

As Korhil jumped off the Saurus, he sprinted after the chameleon skink, who was preparing to make a pass. I followed, but I could tell Korhil was the only one fast enough to either take the ball or at least disrupt the throw.

"Sshhhh!" The chameleon hissed and clicked as he spotted us. He threw the ball to a skink on the opposite flank.

Korhil reached out, managing only to deflect the ball's trajectory. The ball slowed as it glanced off his fingers, changing direction slightly. It landed seven or eight meters from the skink who was supposed to catch it.

Not losing a beat, I ran toward the ball, hoping to get there before the opposing player. But the little lizard bastard was faster than me. Just as I was a few steps away, he grabbed the ball from the ground.

"Stay where you are, you bastard!" I shouted, and through sheer luck, managed to step on his tail.

The skink jerked and fell flat, still clutching the ball. I ran right over him, ignoring the sound of my spiked boots digging into his hide. Planting my left foot on his head, I yanked the ball from the screaming lizard's hands.

Holding the ball as tightly as I could, I bolted toward the end zone. Only the chameleon skink who had made the pass stood in my way.

"Where's Korhil?" I wondered aloud, spotting him grappling with a Saurus. "I can't waste this chance."

I sped up, lifting my knees high to avoid being tripped. But the chameleon skink proved cunning, somehow managing to lash his tongue around the ball. I almost dropped it in surprise, but the skink, refusing to give up, jerked his head, trying to wrest the ball from my grip.

I could've smacked him around a bit to make him stop, but Korhil wouldn't hold the Saurus forever. I had no choice but to sprint into the end zone with the ball and the attached skink. Thankfully, the chameleon wasn't heavy, or running a race with a heavy load while being chased by a Saurus would've been a terrible idea.

At the last moment, I leaped forward with the ball. Touchdown!

"Touchdown! Touchdown! Baha from the Drunken Tree Guard scores the first goal of the game! What a spectacular play!" Gloin shouted.

"Not bad. Unlike his elf teammate, he's proven to be a tough guy, able to handle a Saurus on his own—no small feat," Horst remarked with a smile.

"Indeed, those beasts are powerhouses. Wait, what's he doing now?"

"Hm? Oh, he's celebrating his first touchdown in the pro league."

"What an unusual player. I've never seen anyone celebrate a touchdown by slamming a chameleon skink into the ground, holding him by the tongue."

"That's Blood Bowl for you!" Horst laughed heartily.

After my first touchdown, the Brightosaurs went berserk, playing much more aggressively. Our team held out as best as we could, but by the start of the second half, we were out of gas. The dwarves couldn't cover all the gaps in our defense, especially with the skinks darting across the field like lightning.

This turned the game into a back-and-forth trade of touchdowns. They scored one, and then we answered with another.

In the end, the match finished with our victory by a single point. It was a grueling, brutal game, and we only won by the slimmest of margins. But a win is a win.

Still, we really need to tone down the brutal training. During the final play, I nearly got my ass handed to me. Two damn Sauruses just kept pummeling me until the referee's whistle finally blew.

But aside from the victory, one other thing cheered me up. The enchanted dice I'd been given when I arrived in this world began to glow.

Drunken Tree Guard 6 vs. Brightosaurs 5.