[Iron Fic 5-6][Blood Bowl/Warhammer Fantasy]The Color of Money is Red

QE1

Well-Known Member
#1
“You look perfect. Okay, all you to do is run down the field and catch the ball when I throw it to you.”

Geoff Camill, down-on-his-luck poet, shifted uneasily in his borrowed pads. “Without getting stabbed by the pointy spikes on the ball?”

“Naturally, Geoff. The spikes aren't that sharp anyway.” Rob Blyzmas, he of wavy blonde hair and horrid rhyming ability, waved away his concerns.

“They sure look sharp. Can't I throw the ball and you catch it,” Geoff asked.

Rob assumed a lecturer's pose. Which was odd, because if Geoff had any coins left he would have bet that Rob had skipped out on every lecture in university to get drunk and grope serving wenches in taverns. “I am the one who has played in three of these games already. Once you are an experienced professional like me, you could maybe learn how to be a thrower. But until then, you just catch.”

“I don't want to be an experienced pro, I just want the 100 gold crowns you promised me so I can write more poetry,” Geoff protested. “I'm really close to finishing my epic, the one that will be sung in all of high halls of all the cities in the world.”

“Yeah yeah, well the Chaos All Stars are about to kick off to us. So get ready to do as I told you. Oh yeah, avoid getting close to the other team,” Rob advised.

“Won't I have to run past their whole team to get to where you told me to go,” Geoff asked dubiously.

“Yeah, but they will be trying to kill you if you get within reach. Or if they chase you and catch you. Oh look, here comes the ball, you need to start running now.”

*****

“And the Chaos All Stars get us underway,” boomed the ogre sitting in the announcing booth. “A great kick too, the ball catches Guillermo Rellent in the chest and he goes down hard.”

“You're right Jim,” declared the vampire sitting next to the ogre. “Those razor-sharp spikes pierced his armor, he won't be getting back up unless one of the zombie teams decides to recruit him later tonight.”

“Well spotted Bob,” the ogre declared, getting back to the play-by-play commentary. “Thrower Rob Blyzmas of the Nuln Newts has retrieved the ball.”

“The blood will make the ball slick and difficult to throw,” Bob piped in.

“Yes, and the All Stars are closing him down. He reaches back, and heaves the ball down the field,” Jim fairly shouted. “Oh the carnage, it looks like the All Stars have slaughtered all of the Nuln Newts players while everyone was distracted by the blood fountaining from Rellent's chest.”

“Wait, there is one small and pathetic looking human who managed to sneak through,” Bob pointed.

“Yes, it is a new player for the Newts, Geoff Camill. Can he make the catch on the blood-slicked ball? Yes! What a play, he misses the ball with his hands but uses his forearm to snag a spike. Touchdown, Newts! What great dedication by the new man on the team,” Jim enthused.

“Although his screaming from the end zone is unbecoming of a player of his obvious talents,” Bob frowned. “And since Vork the Slayer decapitated Rob Blyzmas even though he had already thrown the ball, Geoff Camill is the only player left alive for the Nuln Newts. And yes, here comes the forfeit right now.”

“This is surely one of the shorter games we've had this season, Bob, but still it was a good one. The Newts had a highlight reel touchdown, and the Chaos All Stars raise their season tally for Total 'Ponent Kill by 10 in a particularly brutal and unnecessary fashion. Fun for the whole family.”

*****

Sitting in the locker room, a shaken Geoff Camill was lead to a bench by a grouchy dwarf medic. “Medicine,” the dwarf rumbled. The dwarf reached into his beard and pulled out a large metal tankard filled with beer. Handing the tankard to Geoff, the dwarf reached back into his beard and pulled out some white cloth bandages.

While Geoff sipped his beer and the dwarf wrapped his wound, the man Rob had called “Coach” entered the room and came over to the pair.

“Fantastic catch, Rod sure could spot the talent,” the man grinned.

“Rob, sir,” Geoff corrected. “His name was Rob.”

“Close enough. And call me Coach, you need to show me the proper respect if you want to teach me all there is to know about Blood Bowl, Gerd,” Coach declared.

“My name is Geoff. And I don't want to know all there is know about Blood Bowl, I just want my 100 gold crowns so I can go back to writing poetry.”

“Fine, here is your money, Gerd” Coach put a small leather bag in palm of Geoff's hand. Geoff decided to let the name issue go, the bag felt too light. Sure enough, he poured only 5 crowns into his lap before the bag was empty.

“This isn't 100 crowns,” he protested.

“It was 100 crowns for the whole game, you didn't even finish one quarter so you're lucky I paid you 25 crowns. And you got blood all over the uniform I loaned you, so I had to take 20 crowns out for cleaning,” Coach replied.

“So all of that and I only get 5 crowns,” Geoff asked sadly.

“Actually, our team doctor is also our bartender, so he is going to be charging you 4 crowns for that beer your drinking.”

“What?!”

“Tell you what, if you play in our next game I'll pay you 200 crowns.”

Geoff shook his head, “No way. I got stabbed in the arm out there, and nearly died. Everyone else on the team DID die. I'm done with this game.”

“500 crowns, final offer.”

“Deal!”
 

Glimmervoid

Well-Known Member
#2
This is the notes from the WRITING PROFICIENCY part of your score. Full score will be up later when I'm finished everyone's. I thought you might find it useful. I'm a full service judge. :)

“You look perfect. Okay, all you [missing 'need'] to do is run down the field and catch the ball when I throw it to you.”

Geoff Camill, down-on-his-luck poet, shifted uneasily in his borrowed pads. “Without getting stabbed by the pointy spikes on the ball?”

“Naturally, Geoff. The spikes aren't that sharp anyway.” Rob Blyzmas, he of wavy blonde hair and horrid rhyming ability, [reads awkward] waved away his concerns.

“They sure look sharp. Can't I throw the ball and you catch it,[should be '?' not ',']” Geoff asked.

Rob assumed a lecturer's pose. Which was odd, because if Geoff had any coins left he would have bet that Rob had skipped out on every lecture in university to get drunk and grope serving wenches in taverns. “I am the one who has played in three of these games already. Once you are an experienced professional like me, you could maybe learn how to be a thrower. But until then, you just catch.”

“I don't want to be an experienced pro, [needs full stop or semi colon not comma] I just want the 100 gold crowns you promised me so I can write more poetry,” Geoff protested. “I'm really close to finishing my epic, the one that will be sung in all of high halls of all the cities in the world.”

“Yeah yeah, well the Chaos All Stars are about to kick off to us. So get ready to do as I told you. Oh yeah, avoid getting close to the other team,” Rob advised.

“Won't I have to run past their whole team to get to where you told me to go,[should be '?' not ',']” Geoff asked dubiously.

“Yeah, but they will be trying to kill you if you get within reach. Or if they chase you and catch you. Oh look, here comes the ball, you need to start running now.”

*****

“And the Chaos All Stars get us underway,” boomed the ogre sitting in the announcing booth. “A great kick too, the ball catches Guillermo Rellent in the chest and he goes down hard.”

“You're right Jim,” declared the vampire sitting next to the ogre. “Those razor-sharp spikes pierced his armor,[needs full stop or semi colon not comma] he won't be getting back up unless one of the zombie teams decides to recruit him later tonight.”

“Well spotted Bob,” the ogre declared, getting back to the play-by-play commentary. “Thrower Rob Blyzmas of the Nuln Newts has retrieved the ball.”

“The blood will make the ball slick and difficult to throw,” Bob piped in.

“Yes, and the All Stars are closing him down. He reaches back, and heaves the ball down the field,” Jim fairly shouted. “Oh the carnage, it looks like the All Stars have slaughtered all of the Nuln Newts players while everyone was distracted by the blood fountaining from Rellent's chest.”

“Wait, there is one small and pathetic looking human who managed to sneak through,” Bob pointed. [You can not 'pointed' a word. Pointed out maybe]

“Yes, it is a new player for the Newts, Geoff Camill. Can he make the catch on the blood-slicked ball? Yes! What a play, he misses the ball with his hands but uses his forearm to snag a spike. Touchdown, Newts! What great dedication by the new man on the team,” Jim enthused.

“Although his screaming from the end zone is unbecoming of a player of his obvious talents,” Bob frowned.[You can not 'frown' a word. Pedantic technical error.] “And since Vork the Slayer decapitated Rob Blyzmas even though he had already thrown the ball, Geoff Camill is the only player left alive for the Nuln Newts. And yes, here comes the forfeit right now.”

“This is surely one of the shorter games we've had this season, Bob, but still it was a good one. The Newts had a highlight reel touchdown, and the Chaos All Stars raise their season tally for Total 'Ponent Kill by 10 in a particularly brutal and unnecessary fashion. Fun for the whole family.”

*****

Sitting in the locker room, a shaken Geoff Camill was lead to a bench by a grouchy dwarf medic. “Medicine,” the dwarf rumbled. The dwarf reached into his beard and pulled out a large metal tankard filled with beer. Handing the tankard to Geoff, the dwarf reached back into his beard and pulled out some white cloth bandages.

While Geoff sipped his beer and the dwarf wrapped his wound, the man Rob had called “Coach” entered the room and came over to the pair.

“Fantastic catch, Rod sure could spot the talent,” the man grinned. [You can not 'grin' a word. Pedantic technical error.]

“Rob, sir,” Geoff corrected. “His name was Rob.”

“Close enough. And call me Coach, you need to show me the proper respect if you want to teach me all there is to know about Blood Bowl, Gerd,” Coach declared.

“My name is Geoff. And I don't want to know all there is know about Blood Bowl,[needs full stop or semi colon not comma] I just want my 100 gold crowns so I can go back to writing poetry.”

“Fine, here is your money, Gerd[Missing '.']” Coach put a small leather bag in palm of Geoff's hand. Geoff decided to let the name issue go,[needs full stop or semi colon not comma] the bag felt too light. Sure enough, he poured only 5 crowns into his lap before the bag was empty.

“This isn't 100 crowns,” he protested.

“It was 100 crowns for the whole game, you didn't even finish one quarter so you're lucky I paid you 25 crowns. And you got blood all over the uniform I loaned you, so I had to take 20 crowns out for cleaning,” Coach replied.

“So all of that and I only get 5 crowns,” Geoff asked sadly.

“Actually, our team doctor is also our bartender, so he is going to be charging you 4 crowns for that beer your drinking.” [either you drank or you're drinking]

“What?!”

“Tell you what, if you play in our next game I'll pay you 200 crowns.”

Geoff shook his head, “No way. I got stabbed in the arm out there, and nearly died. Everyone else on the team DID die. I'm done with this game.”

“500 crowns, final offer.”

“Deal!”
 

Watashiwa

Administrator
Staff member
#3
Ah Blood Bowl, the sport that takes the current state of professional sports to its logical conclusion. I love it.

Writing Proficiency: 15/20. Good job on the dialogue, I'd change how you punctuate it to better express the commentators excitement or add a few descriptive words to show how they're being sarcastic (if they are).
Theme: 20/20. Poor Geoff has REAL money troubles.
Source: 20/20. Unnecessarily violent, obnoxious characters, tragicomedy? Yep, it's Warhammer. Nearly the entire team wipes? That's Blood Bowl.
Story: 18/20. I can actually see a series about this, one half Ciaphas Cain, one half sports memoir.
Other: 20/20. The bit at the end where the player signs on again despite just being taken for a ride? Classic.
Total: 93.

I can't remember the last time I handed out this many 20s. Probably two weeks ago.
 
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