Blood Bowl!

[Ultimate Charizard]

Ok here goes. This is going to be something Completely Different, and as far as I’m aware a first for the TPM Fanfic board. This is my own take on the Blood Bowl stories published by Black Library, based upon a table top, dice based fantasy football game. A number of the references will be borrowed from them (although they borrow them cheekily from real life companies etc) as well as a couple of characters but nothing instrumental in the plot. The rest will be an original work of my own.
…..apart from this first bit which explains a little about what Blood Bowl is for you that don’t know and is printed at the start of every Blood Bowl Novel (as such it will be the only part of this Fic with correct grammar and punctuation).

Prologue
‘Hi there, sports fans, and welcome to the Blood Bowl for tonight’s contest. You join us here with a capacity crowd, packed with members of every race from across the known world, all howling like banshees in anticipation of tonight’s game. Oh, and yes there are some banshees…… Well, kick-off is in about half a pages’ time, so we’ve just got time to go over to your commentator for tonight, Jim Johnson, for a recap on the rules of the game before battle commences. “Good Evening, Jim!”

“Thank you, Bob! Well, good evening and boy, are you folks in for some great sporting entertainment. First of all though, for those of you at home who are unfamiliar with the rules, here’s how the game is played.”

“Blood Bowl is an epic conflict between two teams of heavily armed and quite insane warriors. Players pass, throw and run with the ball, attempting to get it to the other end of the field, the end zone. Of course, the other team must try and stop them, and recover the ball for their side. If a team gets the ball over the line into the opponents’ end zone it’s called a touchdown: the team that scores the most touchdowns by the end of the match wins the game. Of course, it’s not always as simple as that…..

Chapter 1

There was something he should be doing, he knew that much, anything else however was a mystery. He opened his eyes and looked up into a clear blue sky, the occasional cloud drifting by and birds flying. Slowly he was aware that his hearing was beginning to return, and that there was a sound like cheering all but drowned out by a constant, pulsing, throbbing noise that he couldn’t explain. As if someone were sat next to him beating a drum. He managed to pull himself up, his eyes screwed closed with the effort and his hand rubbed his eyes through the holes in the grille, attached to the front of his helmet, designed to protect his face.

As he looked around he realised a couple of things. The first was that there wasn’t a drummer sat beside him. Infact it was wholly possible that he was inside his head though the beat had slowed and he could hear more of the braying chanting again. The second thing was that he couldn’t remember his name which almost worried him until the rest of his memory came back to him. Looking around he realised he was in the middle of a game. Someone, or more likely something had knocked him clean out and no one from the dugout had bothered sending a medic out to get him.

Slowly he shook the cobwebs from his head as he returned to his feet and looked to see most of the action was down at the other end of the field. Either the game had quickly gone from one end of the field to the other, or he had been taken out in back play. Either was as likely as the other. He saw something else as he watched too. One of the other men, dressed in the same white overalls with Orange Armour as he was wearing, seemed to make a motion as if throwing something. As he looked up there was a small dark shape spiralling through the air towards him and instinctively he reached out and caught it.

It was a ball. A stretched, egg shaped pig bladder, stitched up and inflated, with a metal spike on each end was now resting n the palms of his hands. He looked up, still a little dazed to see all the men wearing armour that matched his shouting and waving. He couldn’t tell what but as he saw the much larger people on the field, the big green people wearing black and white armour all turn and charge directly towards him, he had a feeling they were telling him to run.

As he turned he saw the end of the field wasn’t actually that far away. Of course with his memory returning he knew reaching the end of the field and scoring wasn’t a guarantee he wouldn’t get hurt, Orc’s after all, never appreciated anyone scoring against them, but at least he would do some good for the team. He bolted as fast as his legs would carry him. Slowing only to dodge the occasional missile from the angry opposition crowd. Bricks, sections of seating, and even the occasional unfortunate fan, in the form of the smaller green skin races, the snotlings and Gretchin.

“He’s scored!” he heard a booming voice cry as he crossed the white line of the End Zone and remembered all about the commentators.

“This newly formed team from distant Albion have scored their first ever tournament touchdown and it comes here against the Orcland Raiders!!”

“That they have Jim” replied another voice “It’s just a shame that the Raiders have already scored five and it was nothing more than a consolation”

“Right you are Bob…” came back the first voice “…and if John Jaeger, the Blitzer that scored the touchdown doesn’t keep running that may have been his first and only score”

‘That’s right,’ he thought to himself. ‘That’s who I am, I’m John Jaeger of the North Albion Tigers Blood Bowl team! And I just scored!”
He smiled proudly to himself, turning to appreciate the cheers from the small number of loyal fans that supported them. All he saw, though briefly, was a wall of Green wearing black and white shirts. Then his world went black again. The drummer picked up his sticks and continued his solo.

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First chapter, just something short to gauge interest and see where it goes from there. All comments, suggestions and rates are extremely welcome and wanted

[Ultimate Charizard]

Chapter 2

Young Dirk Kixon winced as the living wall of Orc’s piled into John Jaeger. All he could see from his seat in the dugout was the back of green skin legs as they stomped down and elbows pistoning back and forth as they pummelled the unfortunate Blitzer. The beating seemed to stop for a moment, one of the larger Orc’s bent down and a bloody and beaten blood bowl player was hoisted into the air and dumped over one of the walls around the stadium as the rest of the team trotted back to the center of the field for the kick-off, congratulating each other and slapping high fives as if they themselves had scored.

“And he’s in the crowd!” came the booming voice of Bob Buford, the Ogre commentator.

“There goes any chance of making it back to the safety of the dugout” continued his partner, Jim Johnson the vampire. “especially since that’s the Raiders section of the crowd, though I do think I can see some Tigers fans down there in the melee, he might just survive yet.“

“That’s not likely…” said Bob as one of the Tigers fans pulled out of the ruck waving a white and Orange shoulder guard in the air. “…Jaeger was the first player ever to score for the Tigers in competitive play, that’s instant legend status. Everyone wants a trophy to remember the day!”

“You would think that the fans might be a little less short sighted than helping to kill their own current top scorer.” Commented Jim. A deep chuckle could be heard from his broadcast partner.

“You’re forgetting Jim, these are Blood Bowl fans”

“Good point Bob” finished Jim as an Orcland Raiders fan appeared in the center of the pile waving around a Tigers helmet, Jaegers head still inside it. “Good point!”


“Kixon you’re in!” came the gruff voice of Fergus Alexsson, the Dwarf coach of the North Albion Tigers. The rookie Blitzer looked up, coming face to face with his short, but massively broad employer. Like any Blood bowl coach that had once played the game his face was a grim, unreadable mask, covered in scars. His nose had been broken and reset countless times and every time he spoke the ruins of his smashed teeth could be seen.

“You got wax in your ears boy?” he barked directly into Dirk’s face. “There’s five minutes left yet and were only 4 down!”

Dirk almost laughed, reflexively at his coach’s obvious sarcasm but one look at his face showed he was deadly serious. Blood Bowl coaches were known for doing anything and everything in the pursuit of winning, the Prize money alone for a tournament such as this, the Spike Magazine trophy, could fund a team for an entire year and the loss of a player or two mattered little. Indeed for some coaches it was a bonus. Blood Bowl players were paid ridiculous sums of money; otherwise they would go off to pursue less dangerous careers, like dragon slaying. One or two had even joined the new Wolf Sports Saturday night entertainment show, the aim of which is to kick an Ogre firmly between the legs and then see if you can outrun him. If a few players turned out to play for the team and didn’t come off it, then it saves paying out their wages. The only downside to this is when the players are then signed for necromantic teams. It’s hard to turn a Zombie down when he wants what he’s owed. Looking at the scattered bits of John now circulating around the crowd that seemed unlikely in his case.

“Go get em kid” said a voice beside him and a hand slapped down on his shoulder guard. He turned to see the smiling old face of Pops, a fellow reserve player. No one knew his real name, cept maybe Alexsson, but he had been a part of the team for decades before they went pro. Officially he was on the roster as a Lineman though his playing days were pretty much behind him now, but he still turned out, every game, in full uniform, ready to go if called upon. He was more of an assistant coach and morale officer than player now.

“You’ll be fine out there, everyone’s nervous their first time. You just gotta step in, toughen up, find your place and dive right in”

“It’s the same for Blood Bowl too” came the sultry tones of Astryyll He’stan with a wink. She was sat on Dirks other side, listening to the conversation. The dusky catcher from Estalia breaking into a smirk, Gwyn Uttenbiel, the other reserve Lineman from Middenheim in the Empire cracked up, laughing madly at Astryyll’s joke until a glare from Alexsson stopped him cold.

“Enough of the pep talk.” he growled “Now get on that field!”


As Dirk stepped onto the field he heard his name announced and the crowd cheered. That gave him confidence, it’s somehow made it official, he was a real Blood bowl player, not just some kid. The confidence faltered though as he heard what it was the crowd was cheering. Thirty Thousand fans were all on their feet, looking at him and chanting ‘Fresh Meat!’

Upon reaching the rest of his team, huddled up discussing option he received a nod from Davis Bradley. He was the thrower and captain of the team. Only Pops had served the team longer and he commanded almost as much authority as Alexsson did.

“I know the coach wants us to win this, but its over. We don’t have long enough and they’re too far ahead. All we can do is put on a good show and try to keep from getting killed ok.” He said as he looked around the group, stopping to look at one of the other players. “We don’t need any more losses today”

Dirk followed his eyes to look at the man who made him pause. Kurt Jaeger was John’s brother. Though they played different positions they had joined the team together and always promised to retire home to Altdorf, capital city of the Empire together. Now after seeing him dismembered the look in Kurt’s eyes was not what you would call sane. Quite normal for a Blood Bowl player of course but this was something else. Unfortunately for Dirk those eyes also seemed to be locked on him.

“You aren’t him!” he growled, “You’ll never be him!”

“Kurt!” snapped Bradley, slapping the shell-shocked Linemen on the side of the helmet. “Head in the game, there will be time to grieve later, concentrate on keeping yourself alive ok!”

Kurt blinked, much to Dirks relief and turned away, taking his place on the line of scrimmage with Grobor Gundursson, the dwarf Lineman, and the Vanger brothers, Kevin and Bob. Those too seemed quiet, obviously understanding what it is to lose a brother.

As the team broke Bradley dropped back to take the kick off while the two Catchers, the Tilean, Mario Colletore and the Norscan, Bjorn Ulrik, took up their position on the wings. Each had a Blitzer partnering them, their heavy armour used to block for the faster runners. Sean Dampson accompanied Mario; while Bjorn was partnered by an ex imperial soldier everybody simply called Sarge.

That left Dirk in the center behind the wall of Linemen with Vivienne Grey. It was surprising how many women played Blood Bowl and just how vicious the ‘fairer sex’ could be. Vivienne was no different, the large 4 inch Spikes protruding from the kneepads of the beautiful Brettonian woman evidence of her intentions. Every man in the stadium had winced when she had taken out an Orc runner earlier in the game.

“Do not worry little one” she said, as Bradley took the kick off and the Orc’s instantly started their charge. Her accent was thick with the tones from her homeland. “Ze game shall be over before you know eet.”

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Hopefully some of the humour is starting to come through now, not to mention letting people get to grips with how mad Bloodbowl really is. And yeah sorry Asi, i know you used my Fic in the Fanfic Quiz, asking who the main charchter was but John Jaeger was a bit of a curveball to set up something relating to a plot lol.

[Drago]

Hey man! I've been trying to formulate an American football fic for some time but always fall short, and Blood Bowl is just about a perfect avenue for fiction and I'm annoyed that I hadn't noticed this one sooner.

That being said, you're off to a good start. I've loved the way you've described the game so far; you've given us a vivid understanding of what's going on without strictly holding our hand. Still getting my head around all the characters introduced so far, but I think I'll get a better idea once they start getting involved in the game.

I loved the introduction and prompt dismissal (and dismantling) of John Jaeger - it was a great writing technique to ease us into the fic with a character knocked loopy; we're learning things as he does - he scored, that's great! Oh, dead now. I loved it!
I know we'll see more violence as we go, but I look particularly forward to seeing more Jaeger-like saps along the way!

So all in all, good stuff. Oh, and I like the way the crowd is full of characters, quite an active part of the action - allows for some fun writing along the way!

[Ultimate Charizard]

Chapter 3

Vivienne had been right. The game hadn’t gone on much longer after that last kick-off. In fact it had barely lasted more than a minute thanks to the referee reflected Dirk as he watched the replay on the Crystal ball mounted in the locker rooms wall.

An Orc lineman had come in stronger than the line had anticipated and Sean Dampson had found himself knocked on his back and as the Orc tried to trample over him he reached out to grab its leg. The creature’s weight and momentum tripped it and it landed roughly with a great howl of pain as the spike on Sean’s shoulder guard pierced its thigh. The ref jogged over at that point and reached to his back pocket. He produced a small red card and began to wave it in the air, pointing at Sean and then to the Tigers Dugout.

“It looks like he’s sending him off!” the voice of Jim Johnson came over the broadcast. “The call is for unnecessary roughness.”

“It’s a shame when players fail to understand we have a family game here and can’t play by the rules.” added his broadcast partner Bob Buford. “And it seems like its more than Dampson needs to learn that lesson.” he added as the rest of the Tigers team surrounded the ref to argue the call, only to be met by more waving of that same Red Card, dismissed for ‘Dissent‘. The final dismissal was for Grobor Gundursson, the Dwarf lineman spouting a stream of obscenities at the Ref so obscene the Ref’s face visibly paled, and considering he was an elf, was an impressive feat.

The crowd went nuts as they saw over half of the Tigers being sent from the field. Even the Orcland Raiders fans were incensed as they realised the game that they were comfortably winning was now being spoiled by an over zealous Ref. Thankfully he hadn’t bothered to stop the clock and by the time the whole thing was sorted out the hooter sounded and the game was over. This had been lucky for Dirk as he had found himself escaping the Ref’s card but with only Sarge and Bjorn left on the field to face the Orc’s.

“There are two things I hate…” grumbled Fergus as he walked up behind Dirk. “Elves and Zebra’s!” Dirk smiled at the derogatory term adopted by most of the blood bowl world for the officials in the middle. “And a Zebra Elf I hate even more. Least he got what he deserved.” he huffed as the screen showed the Orcland fans leaving the arena. One fan waving a black and white striped arm around in the air, the hand still grasping the Red Card. Apart from the continuing post game commentary, and the occasional hushed chat and grunt of pain the dressing room was quiet as the team brooded over their defeat. The Tigers were a big team back in Albion but it seemed ‘big fish, little pond’ syndrome was hitting them hard.

“Oh well, there’s always another day” sighed the Dwarf before heading back to his office. Fergus was an odd sort as far as Dirk could tell. Dwarfs weren’t known as overly friendly people, and Blood bowl coaches even less so but despite the fierceness in the dugout, outside a game he was positively a saint. It was one of the chief reasons the Tigers had suffered so few casualties over the years back in Albion since Alexsson paid for top notch healers, both medical and magical. One of which was now looking over Dampson just in case. Dampson was a veteran of the team. He had played back in the Albion league before the Tigers decided to enter the Old world tournaments and Dirk owned a number of the Demonic Visual Displays that biography him. He couldn’t believe he now played on the same team.


Dirk had aspired to play Blood bowl most of his life. He knew that most pro players were in it purely for the money, that or they simply loved the chance to inflict violence but whenever anyone asked him why he would always reply ’because I love the game’. Ever since the team had announced they were leaving Albion Dirk had known he had to take the chance and managed to sign up for their last training camp before they left. Places were tight, thanks to the Tigers high survival rate but he had done enough to impress the coach and found himself on the ship bound for Magritta and the Spike Magazine Tournament. He had almost found himself thrown off when the coach found out he was still only 17 but after pleading with Fergus that he would be 18, and eligible to play professionally by the time they reached port he managed to avoid swimming back home.

“Congratulations rookie” a voice from behind him said, followed by rough slap on the back. “You made it through your fist game.” Dirk turned to see Mario Colletore smiling at him. The catcher seemed genuinely happy for him before turning sombre. “Not many make it that far, understand how lucky you are.” he added with a knowing look before moving away to talk with Bjorn, the other catcher.

Dirk knew what he meant. It was a common saying in Blood bowl that the first game was the hardest. Experience and instinct are what kept you alive and rookies generally lacked both. Only 3 others had made it through that training camp with Dirk. The other rookie Blitzer Gwyn, had yet to take the field in a competitive game and the other two had both played in the Tigers first game against Khorne’s Killers, the Chaos Beast man team that worshipped the Blood God. The team had considered itself lucky they had only lost those two. Dirk still felt that Mario’s congratulations might have been misplaced. After all the only thing he had done in the game was stand on the astrogranite. None of the Orcs had come his way before the ref stopped the game.

Fergus had then called in a few favours to sign up Sarge and Vivienne. Both were experienced players and had handled themselves well though the coach couldn’t get hold of a 3rd replacement and with John’s death that left a 2 man gap on the roster.

Dirk sighed, deciding that was something for coach Alexsson to sort and nothing for him to worry about. Stripping from his armour he headed over to the showers and turned the lever, resting his head against the barely clean tiled wall.

He felt a sharp stinging crack strike him on the butt. Shamed that he had let his guard down, a literal rookie mistake he span to confront the culprit but froze, his jaw hanging slack as he saw Vivienne and Astryll, both holding towels by their sides, both smiling, and both completely naked.

“What’s he doing?” a voice from back in the locker room asked, Dirk couldn’t make out who it was before Astryll replied “Nothing, he’s just stood staring like a startled deer”

Sean Dampson’s head came around the corner, a big grin on his face which seemed to snap Dirk out of it as he moved to cover himself.

“Ladies!…” he said, his voice full of mock concern “…I think you broke the rookie.”
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Just a quick (seriously these things seem so much longer when im writing them) new Chapter to get me back in the swing of this one. Ive worked out a plot etc now so i kinda know where im going. And dont worry. The ending there is just a little 'Initiation humour' this isnt gonna get x-rated anytime soon lol.