In some place, in any old world at any paradoxical moment this story could be told. It is tale of a game played by all races, creeds and shapes of ears. What is the game? The game, is of course Blood Bowl and here and now, I’ll shall endeavour to explain an event in a fictional time, in a fictional world in all our minds; if we choose to embrace it.
As a battle raged across a large bowl shaped valley with a large indented flat field at its centre and after days of bloodshed, the two great armies of blood thirsty warriors grew tired of the constant slaughter and so, it was decided a parley between leaders was the only way to end the endless deadlock.
A leader of a small Orc war band wondered how long it would be before he could get back to the wholesale slaughter. As he leant back on the old ruin from a long gone more peaceful era, he could see the vultures circle in the deep sky, as he picked a rather large bogey from the deep recesses of his nasal cavity, his head rested on a domed section of the old ruin.
His stomach rumbled, he saw a worm squirming in the blood stained earth, Mungk grabbed at it with his stubby green clawed hand, deep in the ground the worm wriggled his way free from the orc’s grasp, but Mungk had found something hard and smooth deep in the soil. He pushed and then there was a click followed by two louder clicks, the ground fell away to reveal an archway hissing as the door slid away from its frame leaving dank stale air pouring from the entrance........