The Prologue

The Prologue

A trio of young men came out of a small store selling board games. Two of them were carrying a pair of small suitcases on wheels. The third had his hands free, unless you counted a small plastic box in one hand and some sort of card. 

- Guys, maybe I can help you with the suitcases after all? - said the third. 

- No! I'm not trusting anyone with my precious! - answered one of the guys with suitcases and gently stroked the bulging side of the suitcase as if it contained not plastic figures, but diamonds and gold. 

- Yes, Baha. We have invested so much money and, most importantly, time and nerves in them that just out of greed and a certain amount of collectors' fanaticism we can't even think about the fact that they will be in someone else's hands. It's like abandoning your child. - explained the reason for this behavior of the second guy with suitcases. 

- Jesus! Sasha and you Peter, seem to be normal people, but as soon as it comes to your figurines you turn into fanatics who are ready to do anything for the sake of their Holy Grail. - I snorted. 

- What do you want? Roughly speaking in these suitcases, lies a few thousand dollars and that's not counting other costs. 

- What?! Wait! But I saw the cost of the figures in the store when you took me there to show me what Blood Bowl is. Prices are certainly high, but how even that huge pile of figures in your suitcases can cost so much? - I asked in amazement, not understanding why such a wild cost of small figurines. 

- Ha! This is a regular piece of junk! And we are real connoisseurs! - replied Sasha once again gently stroking the suitcase. - We've got not just stamped crap for the plebs, but exclusive models, which were perfected by professionals.

- Eh, I realize you have a lot to learn about the world of board games. But Baha, are you so blind that you can't notice how different our figures are from the cheap plastic that the others used to play with? - asked Peter, who was not too lazy to take out one of the figurines for illustrative example. 

Here I thought about it, and indeed their figures looked much better than even those that were shown on the boxes and that were already painted and displayed in the vitrines. It was like Miss Universe versus Miss Crap Town 1999. There was so much elegance in one figurine that it almost seemed like a living creature that had been put into stasis and was ready to come to life at any second at the will of its owner. 

- Well, I thought it was because of the paint job. -I grumbled. 

- Yeah, right. But painting is only part of the job. You have to fit all the parts and handle all the little imperfections that will occur in mass production. And these for us were drawn-designed by a couple of very good artists and model makers, and then printed on one of the best 3-D printers, taking the basic models as a basis. I'm not even talking about the painting. So much money and time spent learning how to paint them properly that it is just horrible. It's a good thing we're not married, or we'd have been killed by angry wives long ago. - Sasha laughed out loud at the end of his speech. 

- Well, I guess I wasn't wrong about the fanaticism. And at first I thought it was just a hobby, a hobby, but here comes a surprise. - I laughed and looked at my first painted figure. 

The figure of a man in heavy armor, reaching up for a ball, was covered with an uneven layer of paint and blotches were visible. The figure was so badly painted that the place of the eyes were huge black spots, and the armor as if the T-1000 transferred into the flesh of the player. But I liked it, because it was my first figure. 

- Don't be sad Baha. This is your first attempt. Eventually you'll reach our heights and instead of this little bugger you'll have a real piece of art in your hands! Especially after your rugby career is over, you'll have plenty of time to... - Sasha didn't have time to finish, because at that moment he was poked in the side by Peter with a rebuking look. 

When he reminded me that my rugby career was over, the fun in my head disappeared, and instead of it came a mixture of apathy and sadness. 

- Thank you, Sasha. You know how to lift my spirits. You should write demotivators to help curb the overpopulation of the planet. That's where your real talent lies. - Peter said with undisguised sarcasm and put his hand on my shoulder. - Baha. Don't listen to this moron. Life goes on. 

- Uh-huh. I'm sorry Baha, I didn't want to hurt you. Don't be discouraged and look for the good in everything. If it wasn't for the roll of the dice, you wouldn't have met the gorgeous and beautiful Peter and me. - Sasha said, parodying one man who loves monster workouts and green jumpsuits. 

- Yes. And didn't discover the world of Blood Bowl, and the world of board games in general. - with a slight smile I answered them remembering how exactly I met these funny fanatics, and my life before all this. 

When I was a kid, I got a cassette tapes with different sports games on them. From athletics to MMA fights. But the two sports I liked the most were rugby and American footbal. There was something about them that stuck in my heart. So after learning exactly what these two sports were called, I went to my parents and demanded that they immediately send me to rugby or American football sports. 

Huh. How little I knew about the world around me back then. My hometown had none of those things. And in general in the country there was only a rugby, but it was also in its infancy. I don't even talk about American football, it turned out to be popular in America itself, but the rest of the world preferred soccer, where any physical contact could go against the players in the form of a red card or a penalty. 

But this did not break me. Realizing that to play rugby or American football in the near future is close to impossible for me, I decided that it's more useful to use the time and do physical training. Running, working with weights, proper nutrition. Plus mental conditioning, because these sports seem to be a no brainer. Kick and catch. Yeah, sure. Tactics, strategy, tricks, etc. require the player to think and do it fast enough. Otherwise you can not only screw up the team, but also get a nasty injury yourself. So develop muscles and brains. There's no room for retards in sports...at least not complete retards. 

So passed a bunch of years, until finally at one of the sporting events I was not noticed by a unknown coach. After seeing my athletic ability, he was pleasantly surprised the funniest moment was when he learned of my desire to play American football or rugby. 

What was fun about that? Well, it was that at a very ordinary high school sports event to meet a rugby coach who had come here looking for potential players without much hope of success. 

Nathaniel Kolb knew there were a lot of good athletes in my country and he wanted to take advantage of that. Only to his great regret, rugby had not attracted much interest from the locals. It's not as popular as soccer or basketball, and it doesn't pay as much, plus it's quite traumatic. And here I am, almost the perfect candidate, and I want to play rugby myself. Jackpot. Almost. 

Why almost? Even though physically and mentally I was well enough developed, but I had no experience of the game at all. Not that watching records and reading books was a good substitute for practical knowledge and experience. But that wasn't a problem for Nathaniel, on the contrary. As he had said, it was much easier to teach from scratch or so than to retrain. 

That evening he came to my house to talk to my parents and got their permission to take me with him to the capital, where there was already a training center for candidates like me. My parents were not very happy that their child would go to another city, even though I was about to turn seventeen, but knowing my dream and how long it had taken me to reach it, they gave their blessing and permission to Nathaniel and me. 

This is where the tragicomedy began, although more of a comedy for me and a tragedy for Nathaniel. Comedy for me, because the other candidates selected by Nathaniel were...just awful. Playing with and against them was too easy, no challenge at all. And for Nathaniel, it was a tragedy because he realized that I was just a lucky accident and that there were either very few or none like me in the country. His hope of finding a new source of good players had failed. 

I was not surprised by this and during a private conversation I told him that he just took the wrong people after seeing only their physical data but not understanding their psychology. Many candidates were not bad athletes. That's just it. In their original sports they could count on the roles of eternal second, third, fourth and so on. And here is a new sport in the country, in which it is possible to become the first. But this is only in our country, but at the international level they would, to put it mildly, show crap results. Although for them it would not be a problem, because in their country they would be the first and receive the appropriate awards and honors, for eternal catching up and just second-rate athletes this is quite good enough. 

The rest of the time before the center closed, Nathaniel forgot about the other candidates and trained only me. It didn't look good from the outside and made the other guys angry, but it was understandable. Instead of wasting time on those who would not give the results he wanted, it would be better to focus on polishing a rare diamond. It was very difficult, the increased workload was only part of the problem, the hardest was the resentment of practically kicked off the boat guys who dreamed of an easy career in local rugby. 

But I persevered and when I turned 18 Nathaniel closed the center and took me with him back to Europe. Realizing that I mostly played by the standards of the local rugby players with outright weaklings, I was forced to gain experience in the second squad of a small provincial English club. To the surprise of Nathaniel and the club, by the second and third game I was already showing great results and after a couple of months I was promoted to the first team. But even there I did not stay long, because my game attracted one of the clubs in the so to speak in the top league of English rugby. 

That's where the real game began. Again the game in the second squad and had to stay longer than last time. Gained experience and technicality for a year until I was allowed to play in the first squad and against strong enough opponents to test my skills. Having shown a good result, but I was still a long way from a perfect one, the club decided that I was worthy of being in the first team. That's how my full time rugby career began. Titles and honors awaited me. 

There were wins. There were draws. There were defeats. There were some particularly nasty shocks. The first time I got bypassed for the Rookie of the Year title. And the last time, when after winning the World Championship, the doctors did a standard checkup and revealed a serious spine injury. At first I thought it would be okay. It didn't. On closer medical examination it was much worse and required surgery with a long recovery period. And most importantly, ending my athletic career. It was very painful and frustrating. To achieve and lose everything at the same time. 

Lying in a hospital room and realizing that this was an end it was easy to go into a deep depression. My friends and parents tried to cheer me up, but it didn't help much because I've basically lived my whole life for the game. Money, titles, popularity. All this I was ready to give up just to get back on the field and play. But everything was in vain, the doctors said that nothing would help me. So I decided to end my life. 

Waiting until the evening checkup was over and the medics had left to do their business, I took out the hidden rope and went towards a small park near the hospital. As I wandered around the park looking for a suitable spot, I came across two guys with Ilizarov apparatuses on their legs, who were playing something on their laptops and discussing loudly. At first I wanted to curse. This is a convenient place to end my life, and two nerds are sitting here playing. 

Just as I was about to threaten to kick them out of the gazebo, I saw something on the screen that looked a lot like rugby and American footbal at the same time. I don't know how or why, but I became terribly interested that even thoughts about rope went far away. Saying hello, I asked what they were playing, surprised by my question the guys didn't immediately come up with an answer, so they decided to just show me. 

On the screen a couple of elves were kicking some creepy freak that looked like a hobo-troll. When one of the elves finished with him, he made a long pass to his partner in the far corner of the field, which was intercepted by a little green bugger, next to him stood a big rat that looked as if it had been assembled by Frankenstein's followers. But on the next move the green runt was knocked out by some psycho with a chainsaw who was laughing. That's how I was introduced to the world of Blood Bowl. 

This game. This world saved me from depression and introduced me to Peter and Sasha, who became my friends. Moreover, thanks to the game I began to think about a career as a coach, or at least just an assistant coach to begin with. And Peter and Sasha... were happy to have a new victim. Ahem, a new neophyte. So, when they were discharged and could start to walk normally the first thing they did was to take me with them and bring me to some store, which turned out to be a game room. There they showed me that what I saw on the screen was only the tip of the iceberg. The world of Blood Bowl turned out to be not only older than me, but also very rich with content. There was a lot of stuff in there. And I only played the computer version and read the rule book, although they made me call it a codex, or the Sacred Texts of Nuffle! 

Today was the second time they took me to this store-game room and made me not only create a character that would be my version on the playfield, but also play my first game. Even though I lost my first time, and the game was quite long because of the amount of rules and explanations from Peter and Sasha, but it was insanely fun. Especially when my character not only did a blitz but also sent a slippery Skaven bastard to the graveyard. Yeah, I've only known Blood Bowl for a little while, and I already hate Skaven. I guess Peter and Sasha's zealotry is contagious. 

- Oh, okay. I'm really not gonna be sad. I'm gonna think about whether or not I can use Blood Bowl as a coaching career. 

- Uh-huh. Roll a dice before every play and pray it doesn't rain. 

So joking and laughing, we walked towards my car parked in the public parking lot. As I was about to take the keys out of my pocket, trying not to drop the card and the figurine, I was a little behind the guys when something cracked above our heads. 

Looking up, I got a chill in my gut. A piano was falling right on top of us. 

Adrenaline rushed through my veins, and I lunged forward, hoping to save the guys and myself. My palms touched their backs and I sent them forward with a strong push while trying to get out of the range of the musical instrument. Only there was one sore BUT that ruined everything. 

I was nowhere near my best form, so the dash didn't seem to be fast enough, and I didn't get away from the falling piano in time. My last thoughts before the lights went out were that I had managed to save the guys and play one last game. 

And then there was coldness and emptiness. 

Somewhere out there. 

A bearded guy in shorts and a t-shirt that said "I need coffee, not love" and with a mug of coffee walked into his office and saw something that looked like mix between a sloth and a koala collapsed on his computer and cursed loudly. 

- Bastard! How many times have I told you not to lie down on the computer and especially not on the keyboard. Eh, it's a good thing I had the safety lock on. - He took a sip of coffee and prepared to type something, but when he saw a message flashing blood red on his screen, he almost choked on the hot coffee. 

The coffee was too hot, so the next second he spit it out, sprinkling not only the computer and keyboard, but also the pet, which ran across the table with a sharp cry, scattering everything in its path. But the pet's owner didn't care. 

- Oh, crap. Balance disrupted by rude interference. Damn my bonus - his fingers tapped furiously on the keyboard. 

Reading the message, the bearded coffee drinker began to pale. 

- They will not only take away my bonuses, but bosses will fire me. You mutated bastard. I just went to make some coffee. Just for a couple minutes! ! Bastard! I'll castrate him! I'll throw him into the dumpster! - The bearded man started typing and scrolling. 

- I'll have to call the chief. Otherwise I'll be castrated and thrown to the dumpster. Eh bl... - the bearded man took out his phone and called his boss. 

Briefly describing the situation and listening to what the chief thinks about him, or rather what exactly will be done to him if he does not fix everything, beardy with despair began to look for a way out of the situation. 

- What to do. What to do. What to do. Okay, stop. Reincarnation and compensation! Then the system won't signal the need for a check. Shit. I'll have to spend everything I've earned in a couple hundred years of work. All that energy wasted because of one furry asshole! - the bearded man took a big sip of coffee and started trying to solve the problem with redoubled vigor. 

-Hmm. So... final thought about the game. Uh, Blood Bowl. Okay, that's where you're going. Now, compensation, so the system doesn't start screaming about imbalance. Well, that's standard. Make sure family and friends are okay. Uh-huh. Next. Personal compensation. What's the clue to what he's after? Oh, what's with the figurine and the piece of paper in his hand? Ah! It's all for the game. Even better, let's make his parameters like the character on the card. Strength, Dexterity, Skills. What? There's still no balance?! How come? It's what he wanted. - The bearded man opened a recording of the guy's last moments. 

- That's why! He saved two important people at the cost of his life! Eh, looks like we'll have to spend it all with no hope of saving anything. So I'll give him Blood Bowl-adapted smartglasses. Man, my savings are dwindling at an alarming rate. Even minimal adaptations to the data readout are expensive. Okay, and now the second thing, special dices to be used when leveling up instead of the standard system, because they are issued only after a long justification, which I do not have time to write. One last thing. Memory wipe. Just in case. - the bearded man breathed a sigh of relief that the crisis had passed. 

-М? Why didn't the process start? I clicked OK. So what's it asking for again? Oh, for fuck's sake! The memory wipe is now requiring justification as well. What the fuck?! 99% of the time it's automatic, and now I have to explain why. Shit, I'm running out of time. Fuck it. We can do without the memory wipe. But then it wouldn't exactly be reincarnation. - The bearded man started to do something with the settings, but another red message that appeared on the screen made him panic again. 

- 10 seconds until the automatic checkout message was sent? Well, the hell with it. He'll be an 18 year old guy with a memory immediately. I'll write a short explanatory note while the transfer process takes place. Here we go! - Having clicked on the green OK icon, the bearded man collapsed on the chair like a crushed jellyfish. 

- Why the fuck did I take this job?! It would be better to continue working as a minor god in some universe and become a full-fledged god in a couple million years or billions. And here is always disgruntled bosses and constant deprivation of bonuses, and today I had to spend my personal savings. Fuck it all. I'll work till payday and leave. But first, I got some explanations to make to a certain woolly-haired jerk. - The bearded man rubbed his temples and got up from his desk and took a mug of cold coffee and went to train his pet. 

And the soul, which was the reason for the whole mess, flew to meet the new world.