Episode 6
“Is it from a BOY friend?” Jasmine, Jacyntha’s sister and Mytilan’s Crown Princess, held a sealed letter to her chest, a coquettish smile lighting her copper face.
“Is it from a BOY friend?” Jasmine, Jacyntha’s sister and Mytilan’s Crown Princess, held a sealed letter to her chest, a coquettish smile lighting her copper face.
A club thumping into an Exotherm’s skull. That was what Anahuark’s foul sounded like to Jacyntha; the skulls of those damned big lizards were hard and had hollow chambers running through them, making an echoing thump when they got brained in battle.
The ball was big and round. It was thick polished leather stitched around an interior cavity stuffed with wool. And it was heavy! With a cry, Jacyntha twisted, torquing momentum into the damned thing, and she hefted it with all her wilting strength, her throwing arm pitching it all of ten paces through the air to Anahuark. The Militantes’ trouble-making catcher caught it with both arms, spinning as she did so, a grunt exploding from her lungs.
Cassandra Thordwall pointed a finger at all but one of her counterparts, a dozen team owners gathered around the massive oak table in the Cámara de Comercio de Guayamartí. The encounter, a meeting of the Board of Governors of the Sommer Sea Football League, might have been better held in the league offices, but last autumn Thordwall herself had ransacked them. So the chamber of commerce had rented the league the space … after the team owners had fronted a significant damage deposit.
She opened the door to the night and took a deep breath of the sea air coming in off the Calxi Strait. Then she turned and laid the palm of her hand against Umberto’s cheek. “My dear, there’s one thing makes me wonder about what really happened that night.”
Ten Months Hence This assassin’s an idiot. Umberto’s own training would have prevented him from the “I got you now” smirk. The thought flashed through his mind, then the night became nothing but action and reaction; training and restraining; there and avoid the thereafter. The dagger in the assassin’s right hand stabbed forward but Umberto …
Hello. I’m the coach behind the infamous, thick-headed Gorn N’hleg. When I offered up to Taureau Amiral the idea of a chronicle written by the head coach of my new Black Orc team, my intention was to run the Bytown Maulers for a year and document what happened. Yes, there would be advice and tactics for fellow Blood Bowl enthusiasts, but it was as much (or more) a story about the most obtuse head coach imaginable and his gang of misfits. You might recognize my name as the author of the Up and Under web series that appears in this website. If you’ve come to love the story of the Mytilan Militantes, then you’ll know I’m a story-teller as much as a Blood Bowl coach.