Hardhead Hirelings - The Rookie Leagues

[PrivateJunior]

"You're all wimpy little sacks of troll-dung, not a single one outta you lot can outrun me, or outpunch me, or out...anything... me. I can't test you properly."
The speaker is an hulking mass of ogre. A towering figure of muscle in loose chainmail and thick, tough leather pads. A massive, serrated blade is slung over his back, easily visible as he paces before you. One hand is covered in steel, a spiked gauntlet as menacing as the jaws of a small dragon, and possibly as painful.
Atop the ogre's muscled torso is a small head, squinting at each of you in careless hatred. This would be your employer and coach, a local Blood Bowl star named Broak-face Bigfist and cousin to the world-famous star player Bertha Bigfist.
"I got a friend what can test you useless piles of dragon-waste out. A little guy, he is. Still, I reckon he can get you stupid, ruddy rookies all bloodied. If we're lucky, one of you'll get his skull mashed. HAH!" He throws back his head in manic laughter, obviously visualising those present suffering some terrible fate.

Looking out to to other side of the pitch, you can see a small, robed figure closely inspecting a line of roughly human-shaped, upright bundles.

The other applicants around you wince at the imagery conjured by their new coach.
Behind you all, a huge bundle of gear and strange boxes totters over to the group, a squeeking voice emenates from beneath it, swearing profusely and fluently in more languages than any of you know or even dreamt existed.
"I wanna see you in action. Show me how useless you are. I need some entertainment after dealing with those stupid league commissioners all morning.
Your opposition is over there. Kick-off in ten."
So saying, Bigfist grabs the closest applicant to him, a terrified man in heavy armour and a large, ornate, steel shield. Scrutinising him for a moment, Bigfist yells at him, spittle flying. "Dugouts."
The poor man is then tossed to the side like a rag doll, armour sounding a dull, hollow tone as it hits the ground.
Your coach goes through the applicants in a similar way, tossing some toward the dugouts and others toward the centre of the pitch.

OOC: In your next post, choose whether you're on the field or off it for the first drive.

[Techmagss]

The only Half-Elf would be thrown into the Dugouts, being scrawny and weak-looking. He sighs, peeking up and watching the match, albeit cautiously.


OOC: Off the field for the first drive

[avr]

Skyla picks herself up off the pitch and readies her shield. She angles it so the painted dragon on the shield reflects glints back at the robed figure. "Ho, little man! What do you do there?"

[PrivateJunior]

Finishing the inspection of one of the bundles, the robed figure turns from his work to face you. At such a great distance, little detail can be made out. He bellows a word at you, something so mangled that it is lost in the distance and unintelligable, but even from so far away you can see clouds of darkness shroud him in a terrifying mist. Waves of dread fill you for a moment before dying away, the fearsome shroud dispersing into the midafternoon.

Immediately, he turns back to his work; lifting the covering on one to closely examine whatever stands beneath. So far away, you can make out nothing of the bundle's contents.

[Fearan]

The long braided man smiled at the coach doing "Drill seargant" routine. He then streched his shoulders and made a summersault towards the pitch. He certainly didn't come here to sit in the dugout
OOC: Ready for action

[weaveworker89]

"Participate!!" Gromm barks as he makes his way to the field, coppered scales shining in the sun and wooden shield strapped to his arm, concealing poorly heavy steel spiked gauntlets.
"Targeting!"


OOC: Participating and using "detect chaos" on each of the bags, then on the man inspecting them.

[Mabn]

"Well, I would love to get in on the fun, but I can stitch you up if you don't get wounded! Heckekek..."

and with that Jonathan spun erratically towards the dugout.

[Deadline]

Gurt Facepuncha

When the coach grabs him and pulls him in close, Gurt lets out a guttural growl. This doesn't appear to phase the coach, as he delivers the same "Pitch" he delivered with some of the other new recruits before tossing the orc towards the pitch.

Gurt recovers quickly, and shouts for his watergoblin lackey, "OI! GROT! Get me a drink before I smash some heads in! An' get these boots tied up proppa! If I break me neck trippin' over 'em, I'll snap you in half!"

Shouting at the little guy always made Gurt feel better. And after a quick drink and boot lace-up, Gurt drops his Greataxe into the watergoblin's hands and heads to the line of scrimmage. His chance to make it big had finally come, and he was going to make sure he made his mark on the opposing player's faces, and history.

[RagingKrikkit]

The next vict-volunteer was a scrawny excuse for a human, barely a man by their standards, not even six feet tall and, what, one forty-five? He was wearing tight enough clothes to keep his range of movement full, but that sorry excuse for padding under and over them made for very useless armor. Maybe that's what the leather was for. But then again, he was wearing only two pieces, one on his right collar and one on his forearm. Maybe they were for taking hits intended for the head? No, they were too soft for that; an axe would go right through it... and the rest of him, for that matter.

The ogre's frown grew into a grimace of rage, and his hand lashed out, grabbing the shrimp by the throat. He could feel the man's pulse quicken as they locked eyes, the human trying to control his breathing. The coach stared deep into the man's light blue eyes, the fear fully obvious, but also a determination behind that. So, maybe this one did have some spine. Ah, so that's what it was. This was some punk kid from town who'd seen himself a game or two and wanted to prove that he was just as good as the pro teams. Then the grimace turned into a malice-fueled grin. Yes, he knew how to deal with this one.

Pitch!

[PrivateJunior]

Gromm scans the unmoving bundles, then the small figure that has almost completed his inspection. There is instantly an obvious aura of Chaos from the small man, and from the middle few of the bundles. After a moment, two pinpricks of bright light burst from the third and fourth bundles across, visible only to the dwarf. Immediately shadowed by this revelation, though, is the explosion of light from the little man. It is so powerful on the dwarf's mind that he staggers back, dazed. Dropping concentration, and allowing detection to fail, Gromm recovers his wits.

Gurt's scrawny goblin suffers the insults and yelling without much sqeaking, doing the little jobs for Facepuncha, knowing more little bits of shiny metal would be coming his way. When it comes to tying laces on boots, he crumples his face in concentration and carefully slips loops over each other into a perfectly crafted mess. Luckily, this time he hadn't been so stupid as to tangle the laces of both boots together...those ribs had taken ages to heal and his neck still had a slight twinge when he tilted it slightly to the left.

To everyone else, the spontaneous collapse of the dwarf is only a momentary distraction and the rough treatment of the goblin easily ignorable. A roughly humanoid beast, covered in hair, horns and hooves, emerges from the gates into the stadium. It makes its way immediately to Broak-face, bellowing at the coach and looking him level in the eyes. "Gor'Thrak. Pitch."
He continues in Giant, but the message is obvious; Get outta my way, wimpy ogre.

[1lost1]

Muttering to himself Serro towards the Ogre Coach and walked between his legs, the spikes from his armor just bearly missing the soft spots. Chittering to himself "Pitch, of course" he said with a strange chuckle "My turn to not be the ball, ball is ball..."

OOC
Going to the feild for some fun:smallbiggrin:

[PrivateJunior]

Those of you destined for the pitch, line up at the halfway marking on the pitch; the Line of Scrimmage. Across from you, the small man throws his arms wide and the many bundles rise off the ground to float over to you, the sheets that cover them flapping in the light breeze.
The little man, a gnome as you identify when he gets closer, approaches behind his team.

The bundles, thirteen of them to be precise, are set down on the ground. Their concealment is abruptly flung off, each one losing its covering at the same time.
Immediately you are all hit with a disgusting buffet of smell. A wave of repulsion, a mixture decaying flesh and freshly turned soil, befouls the air. When you are recovered, the sight is not much better.
Two figures stand slightly larger than a man and wrapped in symbol-covered rags. From them comes the most terrifying odour.

Another two apear slowly to wake from a deep slumber, immediately turning ferocious. With beady eyes, they stare at you and you get the distinct impression that they aren't seeing opponents, rather noting the appearance of food. They drop into a predatory hunch with pale hands forming bony claws.

Another creature, paler than the white of a full moon, slowly heaves gutteral breaths. It's taller than a man, but thinner and covered in gashes and scars inflicted by some kind of equally wild animal.

Five stand motionless, chunks of flesh still clinging to long emptied corpses, barely retaining shape and almost at a point where they seem they could fall apart at a moment of notice.

Three forms, far more skeletal than the zombies that came before them in the line, await their master's orders.

"AHA! So you're ready then, Dripdry?" Seeing your confusion, your coach sees fit to inform you of your opposition. "This here's an old friend. Dripdry Bloodstain. I see he's worked out a new way to serve Nuffle and make things as crazy as himself."

***

A coin is tossed, and your coach opts to recieve the kick off. The undead shuffle across the pitch, organising themselves under the command of their coach.

[RagingKrikkit]

Great, undead. Things now stood a very good chance of going horribly wrong. The young man made his way to a position a few steps back from the centerline, where he closed his eyes, placed his hand over his chest, and muttered something under his breath before returning his attention to the opposing team.

Moving to I 12 and casting Mage Armor on self.

[avr]

"Dark and fearsome magics make no one I would borrow a cup of sugar from, hey." She wanders over to Nathan Hunter "What is your secret, thin man? Are you an assassin to strike down our enemies like a hunter does a deer?"

[weaveworker89]

"Corruption and chaos!! Exterminate chaos! Destroy the unlife!"

Gromm's bearded face twists into a sneer as he moves himself to the line, eyes locking on an opponent aglow with the sickening orange aura of disorder.

[RagingKrikkit]

"Dark and fearsome magics make no one I would borrow a cup of sugar from, hey." She wanders over to Nathan Hunter "What is your secret, thin man? Are you an assassin to strike down our enemies like a hunter does a deer?"


"Not quite." The young man replies. "More support. Most of which is, of course, usless against undead."

[Fearan]

Corisso looked at the disturbing maw of a corpse-thing before him. He shrugged his houlders then and said in an optimistic tone - Well. They're supposed to be sloppy and dumb as hell, see?

[Deadline]

Gurt Facepuncha

Gurt scowls when he sees that their opposing team will be comprised of the undead. It wasn't much fun to beat up on opponents who couldn't feel pain. He brightens up when he sees the ghouls in the back line. Looks like he'd get a chance to make an opponent scream after all. Gurt points at one of the ghouls in the back line, and then slowly draws his finger across his neck in a pantomime of slitting his throat.

With a toothy grin, he sets himself in a wide zone right up on the line of scrimmage and prepares to show the coach what he is made of.

[Mabn]

"Good luck everyone! Bring back toys!"
Johnathan waved cheerfully from the dugout.

[Techmagss]

The half-elf would look at the waving man.
But I want toys, too!

[PrivateJunior]

When all is ready, Mister Bloodstain waves a hand to cause an high-pitched whine to echo about the grounds. With that, Rotting Heap launches the ball deep into your field.

Ciorell is the first to react, leaping over to the ball and collecting it in outstretched arms. With the ball now obtained, she gracefully spins it through the air to Nathan.

Target square = I8,
Scatter: [roll0]
[roll1]
Lands in F11.
Kick-off Return from Ciorell moves her to H8.
She then moves to F11, picks up the ball, passes to Nathan (at I12). Sucessful pass (Accurate). No intercepts available.
Nathan may attempt to catch the pass.
Johnathan may make his turn, now.

[Mabn]

"Woo! Team spirit!"

Jonathan cheers excitedly, but tappers off.

"At this rate I'll never get to see any really fun stuff :("

[PrivateJunior]

Pile 'o' Guts, a zombie on the scrimmage, makes a swing at Gromm's armoured torso, the very movement causing its intestines to poke through a gash in his stomach, a grizzly protrusion that does little to distract the creature.
His clawing grasp swipes the air near the dwarf, failing to even make contact with the opposing player.

At the same time, a whirring roar begins in the middle of the pitch, bursts of acrid smoke billowing from a small engine as Goliath makes his name. He charges directly at one of the mishappen mummies, raising a monstrous weapon of steel and whizzing blade.
Despite its chaotic howl, the device fails to leave a solid mark on the ragged figure, whirring spike chittering back and forth along the sigil-laden rags of the target.

Rotting Heap begins to lurch forward, picking up speed to slam into Gurt Facepuncha. The impetus is not enough for the full-body tackle to take true effect, and the wight bounces harmlessly off the muscled body of the greenskin.

From your dugouts there is a howl of laughter as your ogre friend loses himself in the excitement of the game.

Skyla's turn. Also, well caught Nathan. Completion to Ciorell.

[RagingKrikkit]

Of course it would get passed to him. He was the skinny one, that one that looked like a runner. But if he was a runner, then why wasn't he in the wide zones? Ah, well, what was was, and now to make the best of it.

[avr]

Skyla bounced on her toes as she waited for the action to start. The ball flew somewhere behind her - to the funny thin man?

"Making a hole" Skyla roared as she put both hands behind her shield and brutally shoved the shuffling zombie in front of her. Guts spilled from the ragged hole left by the spike, but the undead monster had little use for such things ...

[PrivateJunior]

In a flurry of motion, both ghouls race forward in mindless pursuit of the ball. It seems as if they aren't even aware of the wall of players in their way, but for the moment they don't need to worry ... they don't make it so far before the action focuses on the scrimmage once again.

In response to having a large iron spike jammed in his gut, Shuffles takes a hold of the shield and pulls it savagely in an attempt to wrench it from the barbarian's grip, further embedding it in his leaking and decaying hide. Skyla takes full advantage of this and forces the spiked shield further into him, pulling the spike upward to carve a deep channel in the rotting flesh of the deceased player.

Crumbles' skeletal form lurches into the unarmoured shape of Corisso Khan, whirling a hideous flail of grisly human heads in an arc over its own fleshless skull. With a resounding crack, the many decapitations collide with the monk's lower body.

In the centre of the field, Gor'Thrak struggles with the two mummies, one taking a swipe at his thick matted hair without effect.

Gurt is again assailed by undead, as Dusty the skeleton attempts to recreate Crumbles' flailing success. The result produced by the lack of depth perception given by not having eyes is the removal of his own head by the spinning chains. Undaunted by this, the skeleton continues headless and no worse for wear.

Swift may take an Attack of Opportunity versus Shuffles' disarm attempt. A successful hit will negate the following rolls. Otherwise, she'll be making an opposed attack roll versus [16] with a +4 bonus for wielding her shield 2-handed.

Corisso takes 2hp of damage from Crumbles' flail.

It is Gromm and Serro's turn (in either order).

[weaveworker89]

Gromm lets out one more roar of "EXTERMINATE!" before jumping at the nearby zombie, his hands smashing towards it with a punishing pincer strike that tears away ragged clothing but fails to pierce the horror's flesh.


[roll0]
[roll1]

[avr]

Skyla pushed the zombie away again before it could get a proper grip on the shield, tearing a hole in its neck with the spike.

AoO attack roll[roll0]
AoO damage roll[roll1]

Pretty sure that'll hit, most likely the DR will keep Shuffles on its feet though.

Contested attack roll if necessary[roll2]

[PrivateJunior]

Mossrock Trefoil takes from one of his pouches, a handful of metallic dust, flinging it into the air and rapidly waving a hand through the cloud as it falls. As he does so, Gurt feels a strange tugging sensation at his skin as ripples expand outward and he grows, expanding to twice his size and feeling a burst of additional strength.

Dreadlionne issues a mighty warcry, lunging forward in a full suit of armour to smash into the side of Rags 'n' Bones, one of the mummies. His momentum causes a monumental crash as his heavy shield collides with the mummy's torso. Such an impact would surely crush a lesser opponent, but this one simply raises an arm and pushes the tiny, iron-clad human away without an ounce of disgruntlement.

Derty Lorndree proves inneffective at slicing through Minotaur hide with dead hands, though many swipes were taken. In return, Gor'Thrak roars with unrestrained rage and tears a massive rent in the side of the mummy, tossing the creature like a ragdoll in his fury.

Mossrock Trefoil casts Enlarge Person on Gurt Facepuncha, doubling the orc's size and giving +2 Strength, -2 Dexterity, -1 Attack Rolls and -1 AC (for size). Gurt may attempt to resist this with a Fort save of DC15

Damn DR for mummies! Just shy of leaving a mark on Rags with that shield.

Derty cops 19HP damage after DR from Gor'Thrak.

Corisso, Nathan, Serro, Gurt, Rashek: you're up! Go in whatever order suits you.

[Deadline]

A roaring, bellowing laugh escapes Gurt's lips as he grows in size to tower over the skeletons in his way. He raises a huge, meaty fist and brings it crashing down at one of the bony figures next to him with manic laughter.

Gurt is going to try and smash Dusty the skeleton(S1), who should be currently adjacent to him since he attacked Gurt with a flail moments ago.

Attack Roll: +1(BAB), +6(Str), -1(Size) = +6: [roll0]
Damage Roll: +6(Str) = +6: [roll1] points of Bludgeoning damage.

[Techmagss]

Rashek would watch the skeleton Gurt was punching. He would swing into action, throwing a fist at the thing's head.


Moving to S1, attacking skelly
[roll0]
If hit, damage: [roll1]

[RagingKrikkit]

The ball carrier took a few steps back before violently exhaling, clearing his lungs of the mummys' stench. He then repositioned his feet, altered his grip on the ball, declared "Head's up!", and sent the ball sailing towards the kobold in the wide zone.

Moving to I11 and passing to O11
[roll0]

[Fearan]

After being poked by a skeleton with a flail, Corisso ducked, beared his hands on the florr of the pitch and attempted a scissor - like foot sweep against the skeleton.
OOC:

Targeting S3 as dodge target. Combat expertising for 1. Attempting to trip the s2 skeleton
Touch attack [roll0]
Opposed STR check [roll1]
AC 15 until next turn, AC 16 vs S3

If successfull:
Saumersaulting away from the tripped skeleton, Corisso landed on his feet and waved to Serro I'll cleave a path, comrade!

OOC: Moving to O15, while provoking the AOO from S2 skeleton. He's tripped, so -4
If failed and the sceleton doesn't answer with a trip on his own: Getting un his feet again in one smooth movement, Corisso sweared Tough bastard. Then, he tries to advance with some bobs'n'weaves and an occasional saumersaut
OOC: Tumbling to O15 will roll in ooc, if needed after the opposed str check resolves

[PrivateJunior]

Securing the ball with ease, Serro looks quizzically at the thrower and his waving motions. It is only a moment before comprehension dawns and he bounds toward the end zone. He speeds off with a haste most cannot achieve, a quarrel dancing toward the end zone, the ball in his hand almost comical in size compared with his tiny reptilian claws.

A rotting hand carrying a heavy spike swings over the kobold's head as he runs but he pays it no mind. Instead he speeds off to the endzone, driving the ball into the ground at the very extreme of the pitch. From the sidelines, cheering erupts, accompanied by the shouting of both coaches and whooping from the scattered observers to the small game.
TOUCHDOWN!

Both teams gather in their dugouts for some words from their coach and a dose of healing. Yelling of abuse emanates from the other dugout, wafting along the sidelines to your ears.

Between drives, you will have one round to cast spells or swap out weapons etc. Everyone is gathered in the dugouts for this.

[Deadline]

"Nice going, tiny. Do that again on defense. I'll knock the ball loose, you grab it and run it in, yeah?" The upsized Gurt nods to Serro and holds out his comically large fist in a gesture inviting a fist-bump to the little kobold. After a moment, he looks about for Grot, his watergoblin and shouts, "GROT! DRINK! NOW!"

[weaveworker89]

"Score!!"

Gromm disentangles himself from the zombie and walks into the dugout, breathing heavily.

[Mabn]

Johnathan casts cure minor wounds on Corisso Khan
"First injury of the team. Keep up the good work!"

[RagingKrikkit]

"Nice work." The Kobold runner hears the human who passed the ball to him say as a hand comes down on his back. He feels a tingle for a second, and then the feeling passes.

Casting Mage Armor on Serro unless the RNG decides to mess with me.

[roll0]

[avr]

Breathing heavily, Skyla eyes the zombie. "Next time I won't go so easy on you, hey?" She then turns and stomps in the direction of the dugout, shaking gore off her shield.

[PrivateJunior]

Grot hurries forward, a large waterskin wobbling in his outstretched arms as he navigates the dugouts in search of his shouting employer.
After administering a long drink to the now even more massive orc, the watergoblin valishes once again into the forest of booted and armoured legs, narrowly avoiding various swinging limbs much as a competent goblin player should on-field.

"None of you lot died out there yet. I'm not sure if I'm impressed, but I know I'm bored." Your coach glares at you all for your failure to impress, blaming each and every one of you for your own survival. All of a sudden, a grin spreads across his face - though perhaps that's not much of an improvement. "Dripdry's gonna be real hurt if you score more 'an him, but. He always seemed to care more about the points on the board than the broken bones. Though I gotta say, there were more corpses on the pitch just then than what I expected."

The rest of the team filters in, from Mossrock the forest gnome to Dreadlionne to noble and flambouyant warrior. Gregor steps forward to administer some small healing spell.

A howl of agony pierces the air from the opposing dugout, followed by further shrieking that finishes with as much warning as it began. Any of you that look toward the opposing dugout will see ink-like drops of energy descending from the clouds in a direct line toward the hidden contents of the dugouts. After a few moments, these cease with the screams; vanishing into the air.
Then, your deceased and desecrated opponents return to the field.

Gregor Filestone casts Cure Minor Wounds on Corisso Khan.
Please choose positions on the pitch once again. The friendly NPC's will be placed after the PC's or at the general direction of the players. The opposing team is receiving and so will set up last.

[avr]

Skyla tucks the polishing rag back into her belt and charges back on to the field. "Coming back for more, Shuffles?" she roars.

[Deadline]

Gurt

Gurt cracks his knuckles and grins at the head coach, "You want more broken bones? You got it." He jogs out to take up position in a wide zone, a few steps back from the line of scrimmage.

[PrivateJunior]

There is a slight delay after the Hirelings take to the pitch, to see the rest of field vacant apart from the pieces of torn cloth decorating the centre from where Gor'Thrak got a little over-excited.
It over quickly, though; broken by the shuffling, stumbling and swaying parade of corpses and savage beings that array themselves to receive the kick.

With little ceremony, Ciorell launches the ball into the air and toward the opposing half. It flips end over end, slowly blown to right of the pitch - according to your view - before falling toward the hard earth in the same fashion.

Lost behind the row of imposing corpses, the ball hits earth out of your sight. Well within sight, though, one of the zombies next to the Gor'Thrak attempts to cut through the beast's thick hide with a clumsy swing of its spiked gauntlet. The minotaur ignores this feeble attempt at violence as a noise like a thousand bees roars from behind and Goliath the Goblin lunges forward with his chainsaw-contraption.

Picking out a zombie on the front line, Goliath tears into it with crazed glee. Whooping with joy - both the goblin and his weapon - the chainsaw bites deep into Pile o' Guts to flick chunks of rotting flesh in all directions.

Rotting Heap dashes forward to grab the ball as it bounces randomly around, before scuttling between friendly skeletons and a ghoul for protection.

Pile o' Guts (Zombie) takes 9 Hits from the chainsaw.
Rotting Heap (Wight) collects ball.
Skyla's turn.

[Mabn]

Jonothan reclined on top of the dugout, watching the game with faint amusement.
"Cmon, charge! At this rate we'll lose the mindless aggression market! We might even lose non-ogres!"

[avr]

Skyla sees the rotting monster holding the ball move within easy reach and can't resist launching herself at it. She charges through the swinging flail right into the wight ...

First, Rotting Heap gets an AoO. Unless this knocks Skyla unconscious, it doesn't prevent the next step. AC 14, currently 16 hp.

Next we compare strength checks. With the feat, Skyla gets [roll0]. If this beats W it's prone, if not it gets to roll again to try to knock her prone, her defensive roll here is [roll1]

If she wins I'm guessing the ball rolls somewhere adjacent. If she can pick it up she will, in any case she has to move out of the wights square, probably to D3. This will trigger an AoO from S1. If she can pick up the ball this action but it requires moving somewhere else she'll do that.