No change! I fear change!
Triplets! I love triplets!
GC's lovely 1-2-quad based tier system. It's clearly the best!
OK, few more applications accepted.
We're just missing the following three people now -
Div 2 - Grinn
Div 4 - Axler, Tom O'Bedlam
Fixtures have been checked for Champs, 1, A & B
Everyone please wait for GC to officially start the season before arranging or playing your matches...
When asked, he merely responded with a wry bleat followed by a swift kick to the testicles.- Rakysh
What happens if I organise right now?
Something to do with bricks or maybe an angle grinder as it's not really a brickable-offence.
...everything is a brick-able offence.
When asked, he merely responded with a wry bleat followed by a swift kick to the testicles.- Rakysh
done! stupid 10 character limit
- Wizardry“Technology is a bad thing, people”
Oh hell, how did I manage to go up a league even with a default? Sorry about that btw, new job sort of overtook game playing for a bit.
And I've got Khemri and Necromantic, I'm being punished aren't I?
- Wizardry“Technology is a bad thing, people”
Down to 2 people then. I've Pm'd Grinn and Axler a little 'hurry up'. Well done everyone else for getting applied so quickly :-). I think the 'official' start to the season will be wednesday but I don't mind if you start organising your matches now (in the groups, lest we need to remind you again!), although they won't be able to be played in-game until we start the divisions off. I'll get on that now, but I'll be leaving some of the lower divisions for now in case we have to reshuffle people.
/Goes off to figure out how to reshuffle ~50 people if Grinn doesn't turn up ;-)
Benevolent dictator of the RPS Blood Bowl Divisions of Death - Join us!
Maybe instead, put a disposable single-season filler team in an upper division? It seems less messy.Originally Posted by groovychainsaw
Last edited by Screwie; 31-01-2012 at 09:03 PM.
I have him on Steam and he was last online 4 days ago so it's quite possible he's on some kind of holiday / work trip / religious cult ritual performance weekend.
Hey guys, apologies for the ninja-vanish - Duff nailed it: the brotherhood of the unholy pony had its annual summit in southern germany and net connection has been highly intermittent. Am going to apply now. Once again apologies for delaying the start of the exciting new season.
Just Axler missing now, my SteamBuds says offline for 6 days...
Fixtures checked down to 3 & D
/edit - lowest TV team in Div4 is 1090, so if necessary a fresh team could be crammed in without upsetting the balance too much.
When asked, he merely responded with a wry bleat followed by a swift kick to the testicles.- Rakysh
Hi, i'm on time for the start of the league?
Pop your details in the next available row in the spreadsheet, there's an outside chance you'll be able to jump in to replace a missing team.
When asked, he merely responded with a wry bleat followed by a swift kick to the testicles.- Rakysh
Ok, updated
I'm afraid Necromantics are currently full, you'll have to choose another team (check the Race Balance sheet).
When asked, he merely responded with a wry bleat followed by a swift kick to the testicles.- Rakysh
The sound of the crunch, muted by a groan of agony, several centimeters of fat and muscle, thirteen meters of stifling, sweat-soaked air to the sidelines, and the roar of the crowd still reached his ears. It was an abrupt end to the poor dolt's life and, more importantly, could signal the end of Weebs' coaching career. The apothecary had already left his tent and was skittering over to the fallen player. That man was drawn to pain like flies to shit. The elderly physician sniffed the wound and dipped his finger in the blood before giving it a taste. He looked over to Weebs shrugged. Apparently "impacted sternum" was beyond his ability to deal with. What a hack.
That ogre's life was more valuable than one hundred twenty thousand gold to hire him and his collection of "funny poo" that had to travel with him everywhere. His loss would be impossible to recover from. Not that he was any more useful than his idiot teammates, but there just wasn't gold to be had to put another wall of meat on the pitch. The team would die and take Weebs with it, so he just walked off the field and let the team coach themselves into oblivion.
* * *
The Third Leg, an ale house that boasted fine ale and beautiful waitresses of every race and size, wasn't all it was cracked up to be. The darkened taproom stank of vomit, the beer was no Bugman's Best, and he'd seen prettier ladies on a Khemri cheerleading squad. The two things that The Third Leg did have over all the others were that it was cheap and it was close. Both qualities were very important for a man with a projected lifespan measured in hours.
The place was busy, but not bustling. The game had probably just ended, so the crowd was certainly on its way. There was no doubt as to who had won. The room brightened momentarily, and Weebs looked up from the tabletop where some previous patron, thinking himself terribly clever, had carved a penis. He saw his executioner silhouetted in the doorway. Weebs tossed back his third beer and gestured to the Undead waitress across the room. No reason to slow down now.
The newcomer was a Dark Elf, of course. The weasel was well-dressed and clearly didn't belong in a dive like The Leg, but he didn't seem too bothered by his surroundings as he made his way, beady-eyed and smiling, to Weebs' table.
"Well you look like you've been expecting someone like me, don't you?" the darkie said. His voice was as oily as Weebs had expected. Of course they'd send a slick bastard like this to rub it in first. There's nothing worse than banks, Weebs' father always said. As it turned out, the old man had been wrong all these years - owing a bank was far worse.
The waitress arrived with his beer and took one look at the newcomer before she quickly darted away. Weebs wondered idly if Skaven picked mates based on looks or scent. The waitress look mangy and smelled like she'd been rolling in something, but who was he to judge? Weebs took a drink, then inhaled the stench of the room and sighed deeply before he replied. His words began slow, then fell out in a rush. It was important that someone knew that he wasn't to blame, even if that person was a killer.
"I kind of hoped it would be quicker and with no talking, but yes. It's important that you realize that it's not my fault, okay? Those losses had nothing to do with me; that whole team was made of glass. Four ogre injuries and a death in two seasons? There isn't a coach in the league who could have done better with players like that! And the damn idiots couldn't hurt a fly! What kind of animal gets that big, that strong, and doesn't want to hit things? It ain't natural!" Weebs slammed his fist on the table and slopped some beer over the rim of his mug. He was shouting, but couldn't stop himself. "It's like I was set up! You must've been there, did you see? Did those corpsehumpers have non-regulation wizards, a poisoner, sacrifices to Nuffle, anything?!"
The man across from him smiled in the silence left by Weebs' outburst. He clasped both hands on the tabletop and said simply, "You were."
"What? I were what?"
"Set up, of course," he replied. "No Ogre team in the entire sport is that bad. I've been putting cyanide into your team's water barrels for weeks. First they get a little buggy and don't behave as they should and then they crash hard. It's a simple poison, but it's incredibly effective. It's also difficult to taste when your diet is mostly sticks and rocks." The bastard winked.
Weebs sat frozen, drink halfway to his gaping mouth. On the one hand, he was saved the humiliation of the team's failure being his fault. That was never in doubt, of course, but it was nice to hear it from someone else. On the other hand, this man had just poisoned twelve people who had never done anything to him and had ensured that Weebs would never be able to pay the loan back. It was a mixed bag for sure.
"Why would you do that?" Weebs asked, setting down his drink. "What does Hand Over Fist have to gain from me not paying them back?"
"I don't represent Hand Over Fist. My boss is in a similar business, but he doesn't dress it up with niceties. You see, we purchased your loan from Hand Over Fist the day you made it. Give me a moment to explain."
The imperious elf took Weebs' mug and had a large mouthful, grimaced, and spat it back in the mug before replacing it.
"Ehhrgk! You drink that? Tastes like milk from a troll's teats." He shook his head, tongue flung out, before continuing.
"What I'm about to offer you will change your life. My boss purchased your loan because he thinks you're something special. You had an incredible first run at coaching Ground Porc and you were noticed, but not before you had already set up Big Bruised Ego. It's unfortunate, really, that things worked out this way. We had to do what we did to ensure your cooperation. There really wasn't another way. What Le'Roy wants, Le'Roy gets."
"Leroy? Your boss' name is Leroy? That's...not very intimidating," Weebs replied, sitting back and crossing his arms in front of him. Clearly he wasn't as in danger of imminent death as he was five minutes ago, and that gave him some confidence back. That or the troll's teat ale.
"No, you idiot. Le'Roy! Le'Roy! It's got an accent in it! Anyway," he said, waving his hand dismissively, "Le'Roy is not my boss. Le'Roy is my boss' son. In spite of all that the organization can offer, he wants to be a Blood Bowl coach. Specifically, he wants to coach Goblins - the kid's got a sadistic side like you wouldn't believe. We're going to set you up with a Goblin team, have you play a match so Le'Roy can see you in action, then introduce you to the kid and you're going to hire him as an Assistant Coach, okay? Simple."
"You want me to coach Goblins, the most self-destructive team in all of Blood Bowl. Not only that, but you want me to do it with some puffed up little snotling for an assistant? No one hires Assistant Coaches! No one! He's supposed to believe this is legitimate?"
"Yes."
"Impossible. No one would believe this"
"He'll believe it because you'll make it believable."
"And if I refuse you'll send the debt collectors after me?"
"No. We'll just kill you."
Weebs winced. "Do I have to win? This sounds like you're setting me up for more failure."
"No, of course not. It's a bloodsport so we'll make money on Goblins either way. Money won't be an issue for us, but you'll be on your own once we fund your initial investment. As added incentive, your debtor's record will also be wiped clean after a suitable time." The elf sat back, certain that the hook was set.
"Well, you've basically got me by the nuts here. I guess you've got yourself a coach," Weebs replied. He wasn't going to go as far as to shake hands with his new business partner, but he nodded politely.
The other man nodded back as he stood to leave, "We'll see you in the morning at recruitment. We're expecting great things from you. Well, maybe not great things, but at the very least we're expecting you to keep Le'Roy happy."
Weebs grunted, already deep in the planning stages for what was sure to be a disastrous season. Goblins? Honestly, what kind of nutjob was this kid? Weebs said a quick prayer to Nuffle and ordered a pen and paper with a fresh drink. The best he could do was draw up some plans and let the dice fall where they may.
EDIT: Can't get it to keep my paragraphing. Sorry, folks.
Last edited by darkweeble; 01-02-2012 at 03:45 PM.
I like this darkweeble person :)
/salutes darkweeble
When asked, he merely responded with a wry bleat followed by a swift kick to the testicles.- Rakysh
Excellent work mr weeble - A lovely start to our new season :-)
Benevolent dictator of the RPS Blood Bowl Divisions of Death - Join us!
:)
If you knew how little a cyanide employee is paid, you guys may become a bit more forgiving ;)
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