Shafts of light scythed through the gaps between the ill-fitting boards of the ancient wooden gate, partly illuminating the stifling gloom of the players tunnel. With them they brought the heat and dust of the amphitheatre beyond, and glimpses of the strangest crowd the TrapBait Dodgers had ever seen. Amongst the spectators for the forthcoming match were Orc marauders, humans from passing trade caravans and delegations invited from all mortal realms to witness the power of the Tomb Kings necromancy. But most eerily of all was the horde of skeletal minions, summoned seemingly for no other purpose than to give the illusion of a stadium full of cheering fans. The half tormented wails of these undead spectators mixed with the genuine cheers of the living to create a distantly familiar, yet uniquely unsettling barrage of noise, further unnerving the Dodger’s players.
The goblins shifted from foot to foot, while some of the skaven clawed at themselves as the anxiety rose. Above their heads the excited trampling of the crowd reached a crescendo, causing more dust to descend as a fine mist upon the occupants of the tunnel. At the same time a legion of huge timpani drums began beat in unison signaling the impending emergence of the two teams – Bom, Bom, Ba-Ba-Ba, Bom…. Bom, Bom, Ba-Ba-Ba, Bom.
Many knew what it was to face the infamous Coach Malkin, with many of those able to attest to how it felt to be Malkined, as it had come to be known. First comes the earnest enquiries and apparent openess, quickly followed by the most beguiling of flattery, to which Coach Pearce himself had almost succumbed. However once he has what he wants, silence, as he allows the seeds of doubt so expertly sown to germinate – half the work is done for that most Machiavellian, Malevolent Malkin….
“.…..but that shall not be how the story ends today my boys. Whatever you find on the other side of this gate – hold your nerve, stay united and work together. Sharpen your claws boys.…..”
One by one the Dodgers fear turned to focused, malign intent – a deep rumbling growl grew from the belly of their talismanic troll, whilst team captain, Kurt Macarena, shoved aside the gate that stood between them and destiny.
”.……DEAD MEN HOLD NO FEAR FOR US!”