Five others just like him followed on his heels. With their oversized helmets on, Dunk couldn’t tell them apart.
“That’s an awful lot of burn ointment,” Big Richard said with a grin. “Let’s hope we need it.”
“You want to get burnt?” said Slick.
The pygmy halfling grinned. “We usually get carried off the field before we have a chance to get singed. This should make for a nice change of pace. Right, fellas?”
The other five pygmy halflings answered as one. “Right!”
“What are they doing in here?” asked Dirk. “The kids locker room is around the corner.”
“Are you usually so unkind to your new team-mates, Mr. Hoffnung?” Pegleg said.
“We agreed to play for them, not with them.” Dirk scowled at the six little Hackers in their makeshift uniforms.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re a little short-handed at the moment.” If Pegleg noticed his shot at a joke there, he gave no indication of it. He always took his Blood Bowl deadly serious. “Given how preoccupied we all were for various reasons before the game, we didn’t have time to set up any tryouts. We had to do with what we had.”
“You could have picked a pack of dwarfs from the stands,” Dirk said.
“Did someone ask for a pack of whores?” Getrunken said as he staggered for the door. “I’m on it!”
Cavre stepped in front of the lineman and stopped him with a hand on his chest. He turned Getrunken around and pointed him in the direction of Dr. Pill.
“No one else wanted to play with a team associated with the Sacrifice Flies,” Cavre said. “They have the stink of failure about them, and the superstitious folk around here fear that it may have rubbed off on us.
“The upside of this is, we only need to win by a single touchdown to beat the spread. Before the Flies joined us, we were favoured by five scores.”
“How comforting,” Dirk said, scowling at the newcomers.
“So, what is this stuff?” Dunk asked Dr. Pill, eager to change the subject. He stuck a finger in the white goop in the vat. It felt greasy.
“Heatblock,” the old elf said. “Like sunblock only better. It’ll keep the sun off your skin and even offers a bit of protection from the lava. Any direct immersion in the hot stuff, and you’re a goner, of course, but this can help with anything else.”
“What do you need bloody sunblock for?” Edgar asked, rustling his leaves against the locker room’s ceiling. “Sounds like deadly poison.”
“When skin gets overexposed to the sun, it burns, not like a vampire, but bad enough. The sun’s rays are stronger here, closer to the equator. Even those of us with some kind of tan can get scorched in the course of an hour.”
“Okay so far,” M’Grash said, holding up his arm with a big grin. His skin had turned a bright pink since they’d landed in Lustria.
Dr. Pill came over and slapped the ogre on the arm. M’Grash yelped and tried to squirm away.
“Thankfully, you’re the worst of this lot of morons,” Dr. Pill said. “Mostly you’ve all had the good sense to stay out of the direct sun as much as you can. Out there on the pitch, though, there’s no place to hide. Put on the heatblock.”
Dunk and the others all moved to comply. Only Edgar and the pygmy halflings didn’t bother. Getrunken tried to drink the lotion, but Dr. Pill stopped him by pushing his head into the vat.
When they were done with all their preparations, they only had a few minutes until game time. Pegleg cleared his throat.
“I suppose you bastards expect me to give you the pep talk of your lives. After all, this is a big game, huge. Technically, it’s the first step towards establishing ourselves as the undisputed champions of the world. It’s bigger than the Blood Bowl tournament in that respect.
“But I’m not going to bother. Those of you who are left from those who started this journey with me know better than to get fooled by such hype. You’ve been through big games before.
“Every game is always the biggest game ever if you listen to the announcers and promoters. That’s the story they tell the fans to get them all worked up, so they buy tickets to the game or extend their Cabalvision subscriptions, or buy our hats and T-shirts.
“We know better. We’re the players, the professionals.
“This isn’t just a game for us. This is our job. This is our life.”
He paused for a moment and took off his hat.
“It’s been a long journey. One I didn’t want to take, but we’re here now, and we’re going to do our jobs.
“Before we do, I want to remember the people who set out with us who didn’t make it to the journey’s end.
“Anfäger. Anima. Roja. Bereit. Ciotola. Linson.
“They were good players, every damn one of them. They deserved the chance to die with their cleats on. They didn’t get that.
“I’m dedicating this game to their memory. When you’re out there on the field, or sitting on the bench, look around you. Remember where your friends used to play. Think about what it’s like without them.
“Then hope that when your time comes, we remember you so well.”
Pegleg put his yellow, tricorn hat back on his head and stared at every one of his players all at once.
“You’re professionals, and you’re good at your jobs, maybe the best ever. It’s time to get out there and do them. Make me proud. May Nuffle favour us, and may the other gods help those who dare to get in our way.”
Getrunken whooped at the top of his lungs, and the rest of the team-mates leapt to their feet. Filled with grim determination, they filed out of the locker room towards the volcanic field beyond, ready to get to work.
31
“Oh!” Bob’s voice reverberated across the crater atop the Tobazco Volcano. “Have you ever seen a hit like that?”
Dunk had to agree that he hadn’t encountered anything like that in a game before. The match against the Ssservants of the Ssslann had been going well. The Hackers had scored the first touchdown just a few minutes into the game. Then all hell had broken loose.
The lizardmen had come out onto the field dressed in nothing at all, not even a loincloth. The only thing they wore was a leather harness emblazoned with the vibrant, jungle-green logo of the Ssservants: a fat, ugly slann. Dunk wondered if there were any other kind.
Of course, they didn’t need any armour. Their scales served that function just fine, and the sharp crests along their backs and the backs of their limbs worked just as well as the spikes on a traditional suit of game armour. They swung their massive tails all around, using them almost as a set of separate blockers, clearing paths wide enough for any lizardman with the ball to race through.
One of the lizardmen, a particularly blue one called Sssam Gaash, grabbed the ball from a team-mate Spinne was tackling, and then turned and found daylight. He spun past Guillermo and Spiel, and leapt straight over Big Richard.
Then he tried to get past M’Grash. He stiff-armed the ogre, but that only partially deflected M’Grash’s efforts to bring the lizardman down. The ogre’s grasp missed Gaash’s waist and came down around his tail.
Happy to have his hands on any part of a foe, M’Grash planted his feet and held on. Dunk had seen him do this before. If he managed to stop Gaash, he’d swing the creature around and hurl him back towards the Hacker end zone. The landing would knock the air clean out of him and make him easy prey for the Hackers’ attacks.
Instead, when M’Grash gave Gaash’s tail a yank, the whole thing came off in his hands. The ogre fell back on his rump, stunned, and when he sat back up he had the whole of Gaash’s tail wriggling in his hands. He screamed like a halfling girl.
“I think K’Thragsh is going to be having nightmares for weeks!” Bob said.
“I might have them myself!” said Jim. “Hey, you think he’s going to eat that? If not, I’m planning a barbeque after the game, and that would look great on the spit!”
“I thought you said it scared you!”
“Most of what I eat scares me! I don’t let that make me go hungry!”
Terrified, M’Grash flung the tail off, and then got up and stomped up and down on the fleshy thing until it had turned into a red and blue paste.
“Well, if Gaash was hoping to get that back, I think he’s out of luck!” said Bob.
“It’s no problem!” said Jim. “He’s a lizard! He can grow a new one!”
“Touchdown, Ssservants!”
The crowd went nuts to see one of the local teams take the legendary Hackers down a notch.
“Amazing!” Bob said. “I had money on Hackers goose-egging the Ssservants, and I’m shocked to see how wrong I was. This could be a real game!”
“If the Ssservants are counting on the Hackers to fall for that trick every time, they may be out of luck. They only have so many tails to go around! Those things take some time to grow back!”
Dunk came over and collected M’Grash as he finished up with his gruesome work. The ogre still shivered with disgust, something Dunk had never seen. He suspected the surprise of finding a squirming limb in his hands might have put M’Grash over the edge. After all, it wasn’t the first time he’d dismembered someone by accident.
At halftime, the Hackers went into their locker room with the score tied 2-2 and their heads hung low. Pegleg was so disappointed in them that none of them could meet his eyes.
“At least no one got hurt,” Dunk said as he filed past the coach.
“No one got hurt, Mr. Hoffnung?” The captain’s voice strained with amazement. “And that’s a good thing? How in Nuffle’s name did I ever let you on my team? What kind of attitude is that?”
“I meant none of us, coach. Isn’t that a good thing?”
Pegleg scowled. “If you’re worried about people getting hurt, perhaps we should all go to the temple instead? Or perhaps you’d like to just lie on the beach?”
“That’s not what I meant, coach.”
“I thought we were here to play in a tournament, Mr. Hoffnung, not lie around on some half-arsed vacation.”
“We are, coach.” Dunk felt his determination growing. “We’re not just here to play. We’re here to win.”
Pegleg slapped Dunk on the back with the blunt side of his hook. “I’m glad to hear that, Mr. Hoffnung. Now, let’s see what we can do to make that happen.”
The Hackers burst out of the locker room as if Pegleg had dropped hot coals in their shorts. They kicked the ball off to the Ssservants, but instead of concentrating on the ball, they spent the next few minutes tearing off any tail they could get their hands on. Edgar even removed the tail of one Lizardman fan who’d sat a little too close to the field.
“Nuffle’s salty nuts!” Bob said. “Have you ever seen such carnage? Have you ever seen so many players grabbing so much tail?”
“To answer both your questions at once: Not since last year’s Chaos All-Star cheerleader tryouts!” said Jim. “This is awesome!”
The lizardmen scored in the middle of the Hackers’ dismemberment efforts, but with the Ssservants’ only real edge blunted, Dunk had high hopes that this wouldn’t last long.
“Look,” Cavre said to Dunk as they awaited the kick-off. “The Ssservants’ coach is trying to get some of the lizardmen players to come in off the bench, but they’re refusing to go.”
Dunk shaded his eyes and stared into the opposing dugout. The suited-up lizardmen each held his tail wrapped around him as if it might disappear in a painful puff of smoke.
With the Ssservants more concerned about their hides than the pigskin, Spinne was able to run through and score behind some solid blocking from Dirk and M’Grash. That tied the score, which put the lizardman coach Kill Parssselsmouth into a tail whipping frenzy. After he slaughtered his starting blitzer and tried to swallow his severed head whole, his players were more afraid of him than the Hackers, and Pegleg’s players had a game on their hands once more.
Late in the game, the lizardmen barrelled down at Edgar who had the ball. The treeman tried to fake left and move right, but treemen don’t jink that well. He ended up going left and not fooling anyone.
Three lizardmen crashed into Edgar. One grabbed his left leg, another grabbed the right, and the third scrambled straight up him like a cat chasing a bird.
Edgar spun around and hurled something downfield. The lizardman clambering up his branches leapt after it, and the two creatures clinging to his legs pushed off and chased after their team-mate, hoping to help him out or provide him with some blocks.
Dunk had been racing up behind Edgar to lend him a hand with the lizardmen, and found his targets racing away faster than he could follow. He stopped for a moment to check on Edgar, and the treeman looked down at him, rustling his upper branches.
The ball dropped out into Dunk’s hands.
Dunk stared at it for a moment before he realised what he had. Then, without bothering to ask what Edgar had thrown away, turned and sprinted down the field.
“Look at that!” Jim’s voice said. “Hoffnung has the ball!”
“If that’s the case, then what’s Brew Dreesss swallowed whole down at the other end of the field?”
“I don’t know, but it seems to me that’s a rotten way to carry a ball down the field! Most players don’t have the stomach for it!”
“Not Dreesss! He’s on a swallow-them-wholesome diet! Whoa! It looks like he’s coughed up Big Richard!”
“All but his helmet! I can see its spikes sticking out through the front of his neck! That’s gotta smart!”
“Smart’s not the word I’d use there, Jim!”
While most of the players watched the Jumboball that sat over the middle of the eastern side of the field, if only to see the replay of Big Richard being regurgitated, Dunk had a clear shot at the end zone. Just as he was about to hit it, though, a silvery mist enveloped the end of the field, and he felt a horrible, biting chill cut through him to the bone.
Dunk kept running towards the end zone, although every bit of his heart told him to turn around and sprint in the other direction. Winning the game meant something to him, though, and he wasn’t about to let anything stop him, not even her.
Dunk heard Greta’s high, piercing wail before he saw her face coalesce out of the mists. It rose over the roar of the crowd, which fast transformed into shrieks of sheer terror. “Dunkel and Dirk Hoffnung!” she cried. “You’ve been very naughty boys!”
Dunk skidded to a halt just short of the goal line and goggled at his mother’s ghost as it loomed high over him, blocking all view of the end zone and the stands beyond. In his worst nightmares, he hadn’t come up with something as awful and outright embarrassing as this. He felt like his mother had just reached over and adjusted his jock strap in front of an audience of millions of fans across the entire planet.
“Why did you run off like that?” she asked. “A mother only wants the best for her boys, to give them all the advantages she’s had.”
Still stunned, Dunk almost jumped out of his skin when Dirk put his hand on his shoulder. “I always said she was crazy,” Dirk said, “but I never imagined something like this.”
Coming back to himself, Dunk realised he was still standing on a Blood Bowl field in the middle of a ball game. Standing as still as he was, he could expect to be torn to pieces any moment. He swung his helmeted head around, willing to bet that it might be torn off before he even saw who was going to hit him.
Dunk spotted half the Ssservantsss team, less the poor player still choking on Big Richard’s helmet, charging down the field, and he closed his eyes and braced for impact. When, after a moment, it didn’t come, he screwed his eyes open again to see why. The lizardmen were still there. For some reason, though, they just hadn’t got much closer, but why?
Bob and Jim provided the answer.
“The Hoffnung family matriarch seems to have had an unforeseen effect upon their foes! Tell me, Bob, what do you get when you mix freezing cold with cold-blooded creatures?”
“I’m no rocket sci
entist, but I’m guessing a bunch of sssluggish Ssservantsss! This is one reason why I always advocate for a little diversity on team rosters. When everyone on the team suffers from the same weakness, you’re just asking for trouble!”
“I know what you mean! I used to play on an all-vampire team called the Arterial Jets. We lost every game we played against any Tilean teams. Those people sure do love to cook with garlic!”
Dunk glanced up at the clock ticking loudly under the Jumboball. With just over a minute left in the game, he could make this work for him. All he had to do was avoid a bunch of slow-motion lizards and an insane ghost-mother.
“Have you boys heard a word I’ve been saying to you?” Greta’s ghost shrieked. “You ungrateful little bastards! I can’t believe I gave up nine months of my life to bear you! Each! And I don’t even warrant a few moments of conversation in the middle of a ‘game’. I can see just where your priorities lie, and let me tell you boys it’s an ugly picture!”
“I don’t know how long I can take this,” said Dirk. He shook like a pygmy halfling in a hurricane. “If she wasn’t already dead, I think I’d kill her.”
“That’s our mother you’re talking about!”
Dirk raised his eyebrows at Dunk and shrugged.
“All right,” Dunk admitted. “You have a point.” He pump faked the ball at Dirk. “Go down and out.”
Dirk nodded and took off.
“And just where do you think you’re going?” Greta shrieked at Dirk. The younger brother skidded to a stop as a grey tendril swirled out of the mist to cut him off. “You show your mother some respect, young man, or else!”
“Or else what, Mother?” said Dirk. “I was dead to you for years before you died. You have nothing over me.”
The mists froze for a moment, as did the ghost. The crazy thought that perhaps Dirk had pierced the ghost’s ego so badly that it would have to leave flitted through Dunk’s brain, but Greta soon snuffed that hope out.
[Blood Bowl 04] - Rumble in the Jungle Page 24