The Übersreik Chronicles - Blood Bowl Fan Fiction

Chapter 14

The Away dressing rooms were nothing like Moritz had seen before. The doorway was ever so slightly smaller than a regular one, so everybody had to hunch over to get in. The Troll - the one big guy on the green team - had to stay outside but didn't seem to mind a great deal. The rest of the team noticed that the ceiling was also a little lower than they might have expected and the lighting a little dimmer. The locker doors were painted in an unusually disgusting shade of yellowy-green, not unlike the revolting pus which was ejected by a victim of Nurgle's Rot. The toilets were spaced a little too close together. The bench seats were a little too small. In all, it was well designed to be uncomfortable for whoever visited to play Da Deff Skwadd.

"Yes-yes, get in-in," chittered Skirrit. "Hurry-hurry." There were three large plastic boxes filled with clean uniforms in the middle of the room. All of the players knew well enough to sit down where they could find a space and say nothing until addressed directly by their coach. He had a reputation for decapitating his own players, but then skaven viewed life a little less valuable when they might often be one from a litter of several dozen. When one of the nearer players tried to reach for a jersey, Headtaker hissed at him and slashed a claw towards his outstretched hand.

"You are all mine-mine. Listen me and we win-win." Skirrit was clearly a coach of few words. Moritz put his kit bag and Benni's – who had tried to prepare for any eventuality by bringing spares of everything – under the bench seat and took stock of the other players around him. He was sure Benni would know more than he would, but he had had to take a seat in the reserved rows behind the dugouts. They were prime seats and would have cost a few Crowns if he had bought them at the gate.

Khulgar pulled harder than he needed to on the reins to bring his stallions to a halt. Their ebony manes were matted with sweat despite the cold air in these higher altitudes and steam billowed from their nostrils in great clouds. They bucked and reared in protest but were ultimately obedient to his control. In the covered wagon behind him, his four passengers were still arguing with one another about whose fault everything was.

"I never said we were better parents," growled Manja.

"You didn't need to say it. I can read your intent from your body language," claimed Camilla. She flamboyantly waved her arms and turned her shoulder to Manja, facing Stefan for support.

"We gave Moritz everything. A roof over his head, love, care, a job for life, we even supported him in this damned sport but now all it's done is teach him to be an ungrateful brat!" Felix had been listing the Schrunk's merits ever since they exited the city.

"Do you think we haven't given Benni the same?" Stefan crossed his arms, just like his wife, and scowled. "We allowed him the freedom to choose what he wanted to become, and he chose Blood Bowl. Who are we to tell him he's wrong or he can't do it? No parents could have been more supportive." Camilla nodded forcefully.

"We even gave Moritz a chance to improve his strength by giving him a job," added Camilla.

"Free labour more like," huffed Manja. "All you did was encourage him to turn his back on the family business."

"And now he's going to get himself killed," Felix wailed.

Khulgar hammered on the door. "We're here."

The parents returned to longed for silence.

"You need to get out." He pulled open the door, his resting face still seeming to glare with accusations at his band mates and their friends. Doctor Crumpler, who had abided the squabbling parents for almost as long as Khulgar, hopped down from the passenger seat and stretched out her stiff form.

"By Sigmar, you lot love to moan, don't you? I almost wish you hadn't brought me along."

"What do you mean?" demanded Felix.