All Activity

Same If you need new team

[EARL]: Hey folks, looks like they're letting me take another crack at this with this weeks fluff and I've got something extra spicy for you coaches, I've got an exclusive interview with one of the most hated coaches in Blood Bowl, it's Grandfather Nurgle's favorite, who needs no real introduction and he's going to fill us all in on how to make a real toxic relationship wo-- "I know a thing or two about being toxic--" [FANTA]: Out of the way Earl, I've had a heck of a night and I need to talk about it, and well, talking to you about anything important is like talking to a dwarf coach about their passing game, so why don't you and your buddy here go work on your interview somewhere else, thanks Earl, you're a peach. Okay coaches, for those of you who haven't been keeping up, which seems to be most of you based on how FEW updoots I got I'll just fill you all in with what's been going on in my life. I met the goat-man of my dreams, it's funny how we even met, he was playing a match and as he noticed me in the stands he was punched so hard in the chest that he actually died. Good thing the Apo was able to save him and it seems he got confused during that whole, 'Am I dead or am I alive thing?' and thinks that I'm some sort of celestial being, he may be stupid, but he's also stupidly rich. So I'm going to hitch my wagon to his star and hopefully land on easy street. (More like Eat, Sleep, Hay!) Of course that's what I was thinking till his ex showed up! Guess she didn't realize that since he technically died, that fulfilled the whole 'Till death do us part' bit. So after I explained that to her and she didn't leave, I threw my complimentary glass of water in her face and we left. I told Voltek he better make an honest Orc outta me and he actually proposed! We're going to get hitched right after his last game this season, I can't see how anything can get in the way of my future happiness, but for you all, you've got to still play your matches, so after you UPVOTE THIS POST, make sure you go and schedule a game because that's what we're here for.

i've seen pro elves do good in TT tournaments because of the ability to burn a silly amount of rr in a turn, but in a continuous league? A lot tougher. TBH I can only see them work as gang foulers because all have access to Sneaky Git and Dirty Player. Wood elves feel worst because of the change to Leap.

The Voyage Home and a Rude Awakening The docks were bathed in twilight as Maxwell followed his companions onto the creaking deck of the ship. Lanterns flickered softly, casting dancing shadows around the weary group. Madeline marched aboard with a defiant sense of purpose, Ripper and Gary trailing behind, still exchanging wildly embellished stories. Maxwell lingered near the gangplank, eyes scanning the docks one last time. His heart sank as he saw no familiar figures, and finally, reluctantly, he stepped aboard. The ship’s captain barked orders, the crew scrambled to untie ropes, and sails began unfurling with a dull flutter. Maxwell leaned against the railing, eyes fixated on the shrinking docks, his throat tight with despair. They were really leaving them behind. Then, from below deck, came an unmistakably sharp voice. "Honestly, Dwig, will you stop complaining? Next time, maybe you'll think twice before trying to debate numbers with a bunch of spear wielding women." Maxwell’s heart leaped into his throat. He spun around, eyes wide with disbelief. Emerging from below deck, looking entirely unbothered, were Vexa and a disgruntled looking Dwig, covered in bruises, mud, and bits of jungle foliage. "Vexa! Dwig!" Maxwell shouted, his reserved facade crumbling instantly. Before he realized what he was doing, he rushed forward, embracing Vexa tightly, then turning and planting an exuberant kiss right on Dwig’s forehead, causing the Dwarf to splutter in bewilderment. "Oi! Ye've lost yer damned mind, Quillford!" Vexa raised an elegant eyebrow, clearly amused. "Goodness, Maxwell. Had I known you’d react so warmly, we’d have shown up earlier." Behind him, Gary and Ripper approached eagerly, each looking ready to burst with excitement. "Did ya see any dinosaurs?" Gary demanded, pushing forward. "’Cause I fought at least ten of ’em!" "Nah, don’t listen to him" Ripper interrupted, elbowing Gary aside. "It was me that took on the dinos. Did ya run into any giant snakes? I wrestled a dozen!" Dwig scowled fiercely. "Ye both be mad as Squig hoppers! The only thing giant about those jungles be the size of the mosquitoes" Madeline stood stiffly, watching the reunion. Relief briefly flickered in her eyes, quickly replaced by a guarded unease as she observed Vexa. She shifted slightly, a subtle motion betraying her discomfort, aware now, more than ever, of the quiet but undeniable authority Vexa radiated. "Well!" Madeline finally said, regaining her icy composure, "at least you managed to follow my instructions" Vexa smiled sweetly, meeting Madeline's eyes directly. "Of course. Your instructions were… very clear" Madeline’s lips tightened into a thin line, but she said nothing more. Instead, she turned, retreating toward her cabin. Maxwell hardly noticed. His joy overwhelmed any tension, and he leaned against the railing again, a ridiculous grin plastered on his face. They were going home, all of them. He didn’t even mind as Gary launched into yet another version of their jungle exploits, Ripper already interrupting with corrections. All Maxwell knew was that somehow, against all odds, logic, and reason, Nuffle had brought them together again. For once, even his overly analytical mind was willing to accept it as pure luck. The remainder of the voyage home, much to everyone's relief, was mercifully uneventful. Back at The Blitz! headquarters, Maxwell sat at his desk, staring absently into space. The familiar sounds of quills scratching parchment and the occasional grunt from Gary or Ripper usually comforted him, but today his mind was elsewhere, back on the boat journey home from Lustria. On that trip, Madeline had called them all together, her tone firm and eyes fierce. "Listen carefully" she'd said. "What happened in Lustria stays in Lustria. We will never speak of it again, especially the Amazons" Maxwell had immediately agreed, nodding so eagerly his neck hurt. Dwig, still shaking from the entire ordeal, echoed the sentiment with fervent enthusiasm. Vexa had watched Madeline with a knowing smirk but nodded all the same, aware of Madeline's true motive. Only Gary and Ripper had protested, loudly lamenting the lost fortune they'd planned from sensationalized book sales and dramatic public lectures. Eventually, under Madeline's scorching glare, they'd reluctantly relented, mumbling their disappointment. A sudden, fierce roar from Madeline startled Maxwell from his memories. Her voice, typically controlled even in anger, trembled with disbelief. Maxwell turned to see Madeline clutching the latest issue of Spike!, her knuckles white. On the front page, in bold, unmistakable letters read: "Amazons Join the Blood Bowl League for the New Season!" "Impossible!" Madeline shouted, eyes wide in shock and fear. Her carefully constructed plan of silence unraveled in seconds. Gary and Ripper exchanged a glance. With simultaneous grins spreading wide across their faces, they slapped hands in a vigorous high five, nearly roaring in unison, "WE ARE RICH!"

Two Days! The road back to civilization was remarkably unremarkable. After the harrowing escape from the Amazon village, Maxwell had half expected further dangers, but nothing of the sort occurred. Instead, the journey devolved into a monotonous slog through the humid jungle path, punctuated only by the incessant bickering of Gary and Ripper. "I reckon at least seven" Gary declared confidently, flexing his muscles. "Seven Amazons bare handed, easy" "Pffft, seven? That all?" Ripper retorted, snorting dismissively. "I’d smash at least ten, no problem. Even one handed" "Bah, yer dreaming" Gary scoffed. "You couldn't handle three" "Three? THREE?!" Ripper bellowed, outraged. "I'll show ya three!" And so it went, mile after tedious mile. Madeline strode ahead, eyes fixed firmly forward, her expression slowly returning to its usual ice cold authority. Maxwell trailed behind, lost in thought, barely registering the escalating boasts of the Orc duo. He was consumed by thoughts of Vexa and Dwig. It was Vexa who'd masterminded their escape, Vexa who'd risked herself to rescue them, and Vexa who’d vanished back into the jungle, insisting she'd return with Dwig. Maxwell was haunted by the Dwarf’s fate. Dwig had never exactly been Maxwell's friend, but he certainly didn't deserve whatever gruesome end the jungle likely had in store. Slowly, the oppressive greenery receded, giving way to clearer paths and eventually to cobblestone streets lined with ramshackle buildings. Evening descended as they entered the bustling docks, cloaking the port in hues of amber and violet. Madeline immediately took charge, leading the weary group toward a modest tavern near the harbor. The innkeeper,a surly, middle-aged man sporting an eyepatch, eyed their disheveled state skeptically. "Rooms!" Madeline demanded briskly, placing a small pouch of coins on the worn counter. "Preferably with a harbor view" The innkeeper glanced toward Ripper and Gary, who'd resumed their endless debate behind her. He shook his head slowly. "Only got one room left" he said gruffly. "Top floor. Bit small for the lot of ye, though" Madeline’s eyes narrowed. "One room? Unacceptable. Surely you have......." "Nope" the innkeeper interrupted. "That's all there is. Take it or leave it" She glared at the man, her nostrils flaring slightly in barely contained frustration, before snatching back half the coins from the counter and taking the lone key he reluctantly offered. "Fine" she snapped, turning sharply on her heel. "Let's go" The room was indeed small, cramped, dusty, and dimly lit by a single lantern. The only window was tiny, overlooking the docks and ocean beyond. Madeline's expression turned to open disgust at the shabby surroundings. "Wonderful" she muttered bitterly. "Just what we needed" Gary and Ripper jostled each other through the narrow doorway, continuing their debate without pause, completely unfazed by the meager accommodations. Maxwell, drained and distant, collapsed onto the only bed, ignoring Madeline’s immediate objections. His eyes turned to the window, gazing blankly at the darkening ocean horizon. Vexa had said to wait two nights, no more. He desperately hoped she'd make it back in time. Time seemed to crawl within the suffocating walls of their cramped tavern room. Only Maxwell barely noticed the passing hours, sinking deeper into his thoughts, gaze fixed on the distant horizon through the grime covered window. He saw only the shifting sea, searching vainly for signs of Vexa and Dwig’s return. Meanwhile, Gary and Ripper found new ways to occupy their endless energy. Having finally exhausted their argument about who could beat up more Amazons, they had now turned to retelling their tales of captivity, each iteration becoming more grandiose, more absurdly heroic than the last. "...and that's when ten Amazons rushed at me" Ripper boasted loudly, dramatically reenacting his imaginary exploits. "Bare handed, mind you!" "Ten?" Gary scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "I faced fifteen, all armed with spears!" Ripper’s eyes narrowed competitively. "Well, I had twenty....... all riding dinosaurs!" "Rubbish!" Gary thundered. "Yer makin' things up now" Madeline, perched rigidly on the single wooden chair, was losing what little patience she had left. Her icy composure had begun to crack, replaced by restless agitation. Each exaggerated retelling by Gary and Ripper seemed to pull another thread from her fraying sanity. "For Nuffle's sake, will you two just shut up?" she snapped. "You've told that ridiculous story a hundred times already!" "Ah, but ya see, boss" Gary replied cheerfully, "it gets better every time!" Ripper grinned proudly. "And more impressive!" Madeline glared at them, her irritation evident as she clenched her fists. Her voice turned icy. "I suggest you both find a new hobby, preferably one that involves silence" As evening approached, Madeline began gathering their belongings, her movements sharp and deliberate. Maxwell, noticing her preparations, felt a sudden surge of anxiety rise within him. "Madeline" he began hesitantly, breaking his long silence, "maybe we should wait another day or two. Vexa and Dwig......" Madeline cut him off sharply. "No. I said two days. If Vexa can't follow simple instructions, that's her problem!" Maxwell, momentarily emboldened by desperation, pushed gently. "But... wasn't it Vexa who said two days?" Madeline turned on him, her voice dropping dangerously low. "Excuse me?" "I.... I mean" Maxwell stammered, shrinking back beneath her piercing glare, "Vexa said two days. You just... agreed" Madeline's eyes flashed with fury, her composure finally snapping. "I don't care what you think Vexa said. I am the leader here, Maxwell! Not her. We leave tonight. End of discussion!" Maxwell wilted under her gaze, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, resigned. Outside the window, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the docks. Maxwell returned to staring blankly at the sea, his heart heavy, feeling utterly powerless as the group packed their things in silence.

The Great Escape Time had ceased to matter. Days and nights blurred into an endless cycle of servitude and humiliation under the watchful eyes of the Amazons. Maxwell had lost track, his meticulous notes long since confiscated along with his dignity. Madeline simmered quietly, furious not just at their captors but also at herself for ending up powerless in someone else's narrative. Gary had repeatedly tried to provoke fights in hopes of escape, only to be effortlessly subdued and embarrassed by Amazon warriors. Ripper, surprisingly, had become oddly subdued, grumbling daily about how there was "no proper brawlin' allowed." Only Vexa had adapted. She had earned a modicum of trust, enough to learn patrol routines, guard schedules, and secret pathways through the jungle. It was a quiet night when Vexa finally stirred Maxwell awake with an urgent whisper. "Get up. Now. Quietly." Maxwell groaned softly, pulling himself from uneasy dreams. "Is this another night inspection? Because my nerves simply can’t..." "No!" she hissed sharply, silencing him instantly. "We're leaving" Within moments, she'd gathered Madeline, Gary, and Ripper. Gary flexed enthusiastically, clearly delighted by the opportunity to cause some mayhem. Madeline eyed Vexa sourly, clearly disapproving that it wasn't she who had orchestrated their escape. With nothing but moonlight to guide them, Vexa led them. Her silent movements and signals kept them unnoticed by sentries. Ripper grumbled quietly, disappointed by the lack of violence. Maxwell, following blindly behind Gary’s hulking form, was internally cataloging every new way he might soon meet a gruesome end. They were deep into the jungle when a distant horn shattered the silence....an alarm! Shouts rose from behind; the Amazons had discovered their absence. "Faster!" Vexa commanded, abandoning stealth for speed. Through thorns and branches, they stumbled desperately forward. Ripper roared in frustration. "We're runnin'? Let me at 'em! I’ll hold 'em off with my fists!" "Quiet, you fool!" Madeline snapped back, annoyed. Maxwell's lungs burned. Every muscle screamed in protest as the jungle erupted into noise behind them. Vexa stopped abruptly, face grim. Ahead, the moonlit path abruptly ended in a sheer cliff. Behind, the sounds of their pursuers grew louder, drawing closer. Maxwell peered desperately into the darkness below, then back at the approaching Amazons. "Please tell me you have a plan!" Vexa’s silence provided all the answer he needed. The jungle was closing in. Spears cut through the air, embedding themselves mere inches away from their terrified faces. Maxwell, resigned to his fate, squeezed his eyes shut, expecting death's cold touch at any moment. Ripper roared defiantly, Gary shouted incoherent taunts, and even Vexa had lost her composure, frustration visibly etched across her elegant features. Then, in a turn of events that defied logic, a struck of fate ....or perhaps Nuffle himself.....happend. An earsplitting crack echoed overhead. The massive branch of a dusin trees, weakened by some unseen jungle rot, came crashing down, forming a barrier between the fleeing journalists and their fierce pursuers. The Amazons shrieked in surprise, momentarily thrown into chaos. "MOVE!" Vexa shouted, disbelief and relief mingling in her voice. "RUN!" They scrambled wildly, heedless of direction, driven purely by instinct and panic. Branches slapped their faces, roots grasped at their ankles, but no natural obstacle could match their desperate will to survive. Eventually, they broke free from the oppressive greenery onto a clearly marked path......the very road they had so recklessly abandoned months ago. Breathless and bruised, Maxwell collapsed onto the muddy jungle road, clutching his knees as his chest heaved. Ripper stood guard, eyes narrowed, fists ready, scanning the trees for movement. Gary panted noisily, hunched forward, gripping his knees. Madeline, despite being disheveled and clearly shaken, maintained her composure, casting wary glances behind them. For a long moment, nobody spoke, gulping down air as they glanced nervously back toward the dense trees. Finally, it was Gary who broke the silence. "So, that was fun! Let's never do it again, aye?" Ripper grumbled, "We should've stayed and smashed 'em! Where's your sense of adventure?" Maxwell stared numbly at his trembling hands. Words failed him. His mind, always so sharp and analytical, had finally succumbed to the absurdity of their ordeal. Then it struck him! With horror he quickly looked around. "We're missing Dwig!" Maxwell said, still gasping for breath. His heart sank as realization crept over his face. "The Dwarf" Gary blurted suddenly, eyes wide with an expression between horror and morbid excitement. "Dwig's still back there!" Ripper chuckled darkly, rubbing a bruised shoulder. "Hope the little beardling makes a proper meal for those hungry ladies." Gary whipped around, instantly energized by opportunity. "Madeline, permission to write an exclusive? 'The Dwarf Who Got Eaten Alive!' It'll sell copies like crazy!" Madeline’s icy glare could have cut steel. Yet she said nothing, clearly conflicted, unwilling to openly admit her reluctance to mount a rescue. Silence stretched until Vexa, who had been scanning the jungle with disdain, sighed loudly. "Well" the elf said, her tone dry and dripping with subtle irritation. "Perhaps next time, Madam Editor, you’ll follow directions" Her eyes narrowed pointedly at Madeline. Ripper barked out a harsh laugh. "Next time?" Vexa ignored him, her jaw tight. "Stay put. Follow the road straight.... if that’s within your capabilities! Wait two nights, no more. If we're not back by then, take a boat home." "You're going back?" Maxwell asked incredulously, suddenly admiring her bravery even as he pitied her. Vexa sighed deeply, her annoyance palpable. "Two nights. If we’re not back, don't wait" She shot a final reproachful look at Madeline, turned sharply, and melted back into the jungle shadows. The remaining members stood silent on the empty road, each privately relieved they weren't the ones plunging back into the darkness to save Dwig.

Due to a bug which affected all console coaches and prevented them from properly playing their matches, we will extend the current Match Day 4 by one week. This should give all coaches enough time to finish their matches without being affected by the bug, which was apparently fixed last night. So, note it down, everyone: MD4 will run until Tuesday, March 25! (MD5 will be posted March 22/23 and start March 26)

Would love to - send a PM with time etc.... AA

If you want a game, let me know man, been too long

Out of the Frying Pan Maxwell swung gently from his net, blinking away panic induced tears as reality slowly asserted itself again. The chaos of shouting and rustling underbrush had finally stopped, replaced by a tense, uneasy silence. He raised his head cautiously, peering through the thick rope mesh. His colleagues dangled awkwardly in their own nets, Gary furiously kicking, Ripper snarling curses, Madeline eerily still, Dwig loudly complaining, and Vexa, oddly serene as always, hanging comfortably as if she did this every weekend. They weren’t alone. Their captors emerged from the shadows with cold, reptilian eyes. Lizardmen, but not the polished athletes Maxwell had interviewed dozens of times. These Lizardmen carried weapons, glistening with something that looked disturbingly like poison. Maxwell cleared his throat nervously. "I... I’m Maxwell Quillford from The Blitz! You might have heard of us. Big Blood Bowl fans?" One Lizardman tilted its head slightly, a disturbing gesture from something so alien. It hissed something incomprehensible to the others, who responded with clicking noises that sounded oddly amused. "I don't think they're subscribers," Gary growled. Madeline glared at him. "Quiet. Let me handle....." Before she could finish, a spear jabbed the net near her, silencing even Grimshade. Maxwell felt the sudden dread that they were about to meet an unceremonious end, far from civilization and utterly unnoticed by the readers they’d once entertained. Suddenly, a war cry split the jungle air..... a fierce, feminine roar. The Lizardmen spun in confusion just as sleek, athletic shapes cascaded from the canopy above, landing effortlessly around them. Maxwell blinked in disbelief. Amazons. Actual Amazons. In an instant, chaos erupted. The Amazons attacked with stunning speed and ruthless precision, their movements a deadly dance of blades and clubs. The Lizardmen rallied briefly, hissing and lunging with their poison tipped spears, but they were clearly outmatched. Maxwell cringed at the vicious sounds of combat. The wet smack of clubs meeting scales, the hiss of pain, and the crash of bodies through foliage. From his net, he watched in awed horror as an Amazon warrior sidestepped a thrusting spear, swung gracefully, and delivered a crushing blow that sent a Lizardman sprawling unconscious. Another Amazon leaped from behind, spinning midair and landing a vicious kick to her foe's skull, dropping him instantly. "Ha! Now this is good entertainment!" shouted Ripper approvingly. Gary growled something appreciative, clearly impressed by the raw violence. As quickly as it started, the battle was over. The remaining Lizardmen hissed their retreat, vanishing into the undergrowth. For a brief moment, Maxwell allowed himself to exhale, thanking whatever gods listened to rational men that they had escaped imminent death. Then, he met the gaze of their rescuers. Cold, assessing eyes fixed upon him .....Amazon warriors, their faces marked with warpaint and suspicion. Maxwell felt his insides twist anew. Ripper laughed heartily, clearly relieved. "Well, now. Ain’t this our lucky day? We're saved by a buncha ladies." Vexa, dangling nearby, raised an eyebrow at him. "I wouldn’t count on that yet." Almost immediately, the nets were cut, and the group landed painfully on the jungle floor, where they found themselves encircled by sharp eyed women. Tall, powerful, and bearing expressions that ranged from disdainful curiosity to outright hostility. The Amazon leader strode forward, taller than Maxwell and radiating authority. Her gaze swept across each captive, finally stopping in front of Maxwell. Her brows knitted, and she leaned forward, squinting skeptically at his hunched frame and uncertain expression. Before Maxwell could utter even a weak greeting, she reached forward without hesitation, firmly grabbing between his legs in an iron grip. Maxwell squeaked involuntarily, his entire face flushing deep red. "But ... but ... we've only just met!" She released him abruptly, looking almost disappointed. "Hmph. Barely a man" she sneered, eyes filled with disdain. Behind her, several Amazons snickered openly. Ripper let out a booming laugh. "Ha! Maxwell, even jungle ladies got standards!" Madeline's cold voice cut through sharply, "Enough. I’m Madeline Grimshade, Editor-in-Chief of The Blitz!, and we...." The Amazon silenced her with a dismissive gesture, eyes never leaving Maxwell. "Men do not speak unless spoken to" she declared loudly. Madeline's face darkened with restrained fury. "But I’m not a....." "You follow quietly!" the leader interrupted, ignoring Madeline entirely. "Or stay for the scaled ones’ return." Maxwell, still clutching his dignity and other sensitive areas, gave a feeble nod, exchanging a mortified glance with Dwig, who appeared more terrified than ever. Madeline brushed herself off angrily, clearly furious that authority had slipped so abruptly out of her hands. Gary, subdued for the first time since Maxwell had known him, rubbed his aching head in grudging silence, while Ripper grumbled softly about missed opportunities to join in the fighting. As the Amazon warriors prodded them forward, deeper into the sweltering jungle, Maxwell sighed softly. Captivity had never figured into his journalistic ambitions. "Well" he muttered quietly to himself, "I suppose being alive, for the moment, is still a form of success" Ahead, the dark jungle yawned ominously, holding mysteries Maxwell felt certain he'd prefer never to discover.

If there is somehow still need for replacement teams, I would be interested. If not, I will keep eye on signups for next season

Immediate and Total Failure Maxwell had assumed they’d get lost eventually. Perhaps halfway into the jungle, after venturing too far from the main road, or maybe when some carnivorous plant swallowed Gary whole. What he had not anticipated was getting lost within the first hour. “It was a straight road” he repeated for what had to be the twelfth time. The group stood in the thick of Lustria’s jungle, surrounded by towering trees, the air thick with humidity and the ever present buzz of things Maxwell was certain wanted to bite, sting, or otherwise consume him. Madeline Grimshade adjusted her coat, looking entirely unbothered. “Straight roads are a subjective concept” “No, they aren’t!” Maxwell snapped, gesturing wildly. “They are, by definition, not subjective! They are straight!” Dwig Ironbeard, who was sweating more than a Dwarf had any right to, grumbled as he slapped a mosquito the size of a goblin off his arm. “Ye had one job, Grimshade. One. Job. Follow the bleedin’ road. But nooo, ye had to go an’ take a ‘shortcut!’” “It was a path” Madeline corrected. “It was a gap between trees!” Maxwell shot back. Gary Spitstorm, undeterred by their predicament, sniffed the air. “Jungle smells like sweat and murder. I like it.” Maxwell turned to Vexa. “Please tell me you have some idea of where we are” The Wood Elf, standing in the one patch of shade as if it had been placed there specifically for her, barely looked up. “Oh, I know exactly where we are” she replied softly. Maxwell exhaled in relief. “Thank Nuffle. Where?” “In a jungle.” Vexa replied as if she was suprised noone else had realized that by now. Maxwell felt ill, as if he was going to have a stroke. Gary Spitstorm, soaked in sweat and visibly irritated, as he resumed pushing through the foliage like a battering ram. "It’s just plants and bugs. We faced worse in Blood Bowl locker rooms............ right, Ripper?" Ripper grunted, but it was hardly convincing. Even he was quieter than usual, constantly glancing sideways, his usual bravado somewhat dulled by the oppressive green wall that surrounded them. Then, as they stumbled forward, something changed. It was subtle at first... a shift in atmosphere, like the jungle itself held its breath. Gary was the first to notice, coming to an abrupt halt. The others quickly followed suit, sensing the sudden tension. "What is it now, Gary?" Madeline snapped impatiently. Gary didn't respond. His eyes darted around cautiously, his large Orcish nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air. "There's somethin’ out there." Vexa tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing with heightened awareness. "Indeed. Something is…watching." Maxwell felt a chill despite the stifling heat. He glanced around quickly, seeing nothing but dense vegetation and dancing shadows. He strained his ears, hearing nothing but the monotonous drone of insects and distant bird calls. Yet the unmistakable sensation that they were not alone crept over him, settling in his chest like a cold stone. "Don.....'t..... don’t be absurd," Dwig stammered, trying desperately to cling to logic. "We’ve seen nothing. Heard nothing. Statistical probability says...." "Shut up about yer damn numbers," Gary hissed. "I know a predator when I sense one." Ripper growled, a low, threatening rumble deep in his throat. "Whatever’s out there, it ain’t friendly." Madeline slowly reached for a dagger hidden at her waist. Her knuckles turned white around its hilt. "Stay together." she muttered in a low shivering voice. The tension mounted unbearably. Every leaf rustle felt deliberate, every shadow cast by the canopy seemed malevolent. Maxwell found himself barely breathing, his heart hammering in his chest. He realized with dread that he was clutching his notepad like a weapon.... a habit that suddenly felt laughably inadequate. Then, just as the anxiety reached its peak, something moved. A shape darted between trees, just beyond their vision, quick and silent. "There!" Ripper barked, whirling around, fists raised and ready for a fight. Gary stepped closer, fists clenched. "Come on, show yourself, ya coward!" he yelled, but his voice lacked confidence. Silence responded, heavier and more oppressive than before. Suddenly, a strange, rhythmic hissing filled the air around them, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. Maxwell could feel eyes on him... cold, calculating, and thoroughly alien. He desperately tried to remember what he knew of Lustria. "Perhaps it’s… the Lizardmen? From the matches?" His voice almost failing him. Vexa’s expression darkened. "These are nothing like the ones you’ve interviewed. Those were athletes, not hunters." Dwig’s voice trembled. "They…they don’t use spears in Blood Bowl, do they?" "No, Dwig," Vexa answered quietly, her voice disturbingly calm. "They don’t." Dwig took a cautious step backwards. "Then what....." Before he could finish, a spear whistled from the foliage and buried itself into the tree beside his head with a loud thunk. The group froze, the silence punctuated only by Dwig’s heavy breathing. "Well," Maxwell said faintly, feeling the wave of panic rising inside him, "that certainly escalated quickly." Madeline quickly took control, her voice sharp but urgent. "Everyone, stay close. Move slowly. And whatever you do, don’t...." But before she could finish, the jungle exploded into chaos. Shapes burst forth from the shadows, swift and frighteningly precise. Spears glinted menacingly in the dappled sunlight. For the first time in Maxwell’s life, logic utterly failed him, replaced entirely by primal instinct. He turned and ran.... straight into a net held taut by unseen hands. He cried out in shock as the ropes lifted him off the jungle floor, sending his notebook flying. Suspended and spinning gently, he caught a final glimpse of Vexa. The Wood Elf stood calmly among the chaos, hands raised in surrender, smiling faintly as though this was exactly where she expected to be. Maxwell closed his eyes tightly, silently praying to Nuffle himself for mercy. Because one thing was suddenly very clear! This wasn’t Blood Bowl anymore. It was something far, far worse.

A Brilliantly Stupid Idea Maxwell Quillford had covered many terrible ideas during his tenure at The Blitz! but this? This was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the worst. "Let me get this straight" he said, pinching the bridge of his nose as he stood in Madeline Grimshade’s office. "You want us to travel to Lustria ... an uncharted, disease ridden, predator infested deathtrap ...... on the mere chance that Blood Bowl is being played there?" Madeline sat behind her desk, arms crossed, exuding the terrifying confidence of a commander leading troops to a glorious and completely unnecessary demise. "Not chance, Maxwell. Certainty. Lizardmen exist, and where there are Lizardmen, there is Blood Bowl. And we will document it." Maxwell exhaled sharply. "Document what, exactly? The ways we can be eaten? The variety of fevers we’ll contract?" Across the room, Dwig Ironbeard huffed, arms folded, his bushy brows drawn into a deep scowl. "Takin' all the core staff off on some jungle folly ain’t sound management, Grimshade. Some of us should stay behind. Someone, let’s say, with an unparalleled understanding of the statistical side of the sport..." "No!" Madeline’s voice was final. Dwig's mouth opened, closed, then opened again, before he settled for a disgruntled, "Bah!" Gary Spitstorm cracked his knuckles, grinning wide. "Lustria? A place full of things that wanna kill ya? Sounds exactly like the kinda place that needs my reporting." "You mean exaggerating" Maxwell muttered. "Details" Gary said with a shrug. Maxwell turned to Ripper. "And you? Surely you see the madness in this?" The hulking Orc stretched his neck until something popped. "Jungle means fightin’. Big things. Fast things. Things that don’t die easy. I’m in." Maxwell barely held back a groan. He turned to the last beacon of rational thought in the room. "Vexa, please tell me you agree this is a monumentally bad idea." The Wood Elf lazily lifted her gaze from the window. "I like jungles." Maxwell stared. Vexa blinked once, then resumed gazing outside. There was no saving them. "So that's settled then," Madeline said, already moving on, completely ignoring Maxwell’s horrified expression. "We leave at dawn. Pack light. We won’t need supplies." "We won’t need supplies?" Maxwell repeated, horrified. "Survival builds character" she replied, with far too much certainty for a woman who had probably never been outside a well fortified city. Maxwell closed his eyes. He needed a drink. Or a coma. Preferably both. And just like that, The Blitz! was going to Lustria.

Yes, that is actually possible these days.

[Earl]: Sorry coaches, but no fluff this week as we just discovered that [redacted] is currently missing in action, we assumed they got waylaid by some snotlings as they were looking for some medicinal mushrooms at DJ VOLE-P's latest rave. But we are wrong! As we just received this mysterious note tied to a brick and thrown through one of the newspapers lower windows. The note was from the 'freedom fighting group, We Amazons Play, or W.A.P., it seems these Amazonians are a bit disquieted that they're still not included on the current team rosters and think that we've got some sort of pull with the N.A.F. They said that until we expedite a solution to this egregious oversight we shouldn't expect to see our fluff writer any time soon. (A clue!) (A messagSo once we got a dictionary and figured out what they were saying we formed a plan of action. Lucky for us Earl noticed that the brick looked familiar to the ones used in the construction of The Mended Drum and after we saw the return address stamped on the letter we found that our fluff writer was being held on the other side of town. Thanks for nothin' Earl. But good news! We launched a daring plan and it seems somebunny was watching out for us because we saved our writer without a hitch! And here to express his thanks is our writer with an exclusive response to our cunning plan, take it away, [REDACTED]: [REDACTED]: WHY! Why in the name of Tzeentch would you do this! Saved?! SAVED! You think I WANTED any help! AAArrgghh... (Moments before a successful save!) [Earl]: Well, obviously he is in shock or has Stockholmer syndrome, which is funny because they only had him for half the afternoon, but while we secure our writer, why not secure your next match and go schedule it! We don't want this no-show turning into an epidemic, so why not check in with a thumb-up as well for this post so we know you got the message and you're safe. Best of luck coaches, and remember to beware of tall, muscular woman who have strong...oh, now I see why he's so upset....

Can you join the occ playing from a console?

There is a rather good chance a spot will open up during the season. I'll add you to the reserve list in the admin section.

[Fanta:] If the coach is the brains of the team, the lineman is the heart, abused and ignored until you realize how vital it is. What player does any coach spend more time hiring and firing than the humble lineman? You line set the poor S.O.B. up there just so he can get punched in the gob and most of the time you don't even worry too much about the result, saving your apothecary for the players that you really like. (What goes on in that melon of his?) And we know they're not going to get the best name, even if the team has a great theme, because they'll just get killed or too skilled and they'll need to go. But does the Lineman care? Not at all, they know it is their lot in life to be used until they are useless. Not because of some sense of self sacrifice or urge to do something for the greater good but because they're a bunch of dopes. (Pro-tip: You can pay this guy in cheese. ) That's why they're always failing rushes, they've usually forgotten to tie their shoes. They drop the ball because they need one hand free so they can remember what turn they're on. They're the type of player who tucks his pants into his undershorts instead of between his undershorts and his shirt, real morans. (This guy thinks french fries come from France.) [Earl:] Uh, Fanta, you're supposed to be talking these guys up, telling everyone why they should be loved, not why they're a bunch of shlubs... [Fanta:] Don't worry Earl, none of them can read anyway, so they'll have no idea this was even posted. But you coaches will, so give me some love because we know you're smarter than a bunch of linemen and then go schedule those games!

Hey! I'm new here, pretty new to BB overall. If there is a need for a replacement (new team, since I have no high value teams) I'm in. Otherwise I'll just wait for a new chance to sign up :)

Thanks for the input - trying to learn and test my Dark Elf skills in the ladder - but a very different game from playing WE (which I loved). But I can see some potential in the DEs. Hope to cya all next season.... AA

Hey, You know Im a long time woodelf coach and they are just not the same. The cage diving is gone, but you can always dodge into a cage on a 5+ with rr if its desperate. The killer is only the thrower can pass reliably. It really slows the team on defense, you cannot grab the ball and whisk it away like you could before. Also av7 seems so much more vulnerable now than it did before. Ive had good results with darkelves in the resurrection tournament but all my wins are 1-0 and 2-1.

Pre-Day1 The last tent was finally brought up, the faded red and blue colors on the tent side walls ripped by the dry winds. The Sun was high in the cloudless sky, the heat was draining the entire team who were assigned to rise all tents. Another chart came into the center of the tents which all were positioned in a circle. The cart stopped and the camel roared as they never liked undead. The dust which trailed behind the cart finally dissolved by the wind. Frank Beard the wight blitzer in OZZ Top, watched the Cart as it rolled in. Fixing his elbow armour tightening the leather stipes and pulling it, securing it will hold a blood bowl game. He saw the cart was loaded with barrels, five or seven, hard to tell from his current angel. He got up from his sitting position and approached the cart, the camel started to move and twist. The rider tried to calm down the animal. Frank saw some unknown words by some unknown language or written tattoo on the cart riders forearm when trying to calm down the animal. He or she was totally hooded otherwise to keep the heat at bay. Then the drivers hand came up palm open as a stop sign. Frank understood what the hand meant and backed off giving the animal some peace. So, it was Electra the lead of the new tent crew who stepped forward and brough down the high valued cargo from the cart. Kegs of water, they were heavy indeed. Water in the desert is the bread and butter to all, actually living and dead. Or undead it should probably be corrected to. Electra’s team hurried forward to assist to secure the kegs one by one, they were brought under the raised roof in the center of the team OZZ Top’s assembly area. OCC, what a fantastic circus, Bantha thought. The new season was approaching. This time the OCC moved to a new city, and this time it was the city Karam in the dunes of desert that was the center of the show. Some maharajah invited and welcomed the show to their own Great Karam and nearby villages. Bantha loved the OCC and how the show traveled around the world sharing the amusement of Bloodbowl, this fantastic sport unforgiven and rich of tragedy and fame! The thrill that no one was safe and everyone could win. It was the show of shows, fans gathered where they could. Some came in from afar but the many could of course not afford it. There were always merchants following the show, as Money was made from it even though it was maybe not actions directly connected to it. One season took place in one city, saluted the final Champions and then OCC moved to a new city to crown the next. In this way the economy of the circus was bringing lots of potential each city that hosted it. Wizards comes, traders of course, kings and queens come to see the spectacle of blood and bowling. Everyone wanted a piece of the super stars. The entire show was too big for the city, so some late coming teams had to put up tents outside of the city gates. It was actually quite many of the teams and only the few who arrived early got a spot inside the gates. For OZZ Top, it was minor problems, the ghouls and of course, the rest of the management team had some problems with heat during days. The cold night was also a problem, but here the undead was totally unaffected. There were less practice grounds for all of the teams, but that was fine, and all was very creative when it comes to what to practice etc. every team needed. Goblins building sandcastles to land on when those big trolls were about to practice throwing. The werewolf’s had a sprint yard, one with straight line to get speed, one with obstacles to practice quick moves, right and left. The teams build a fence to simulate a football field or bloodbowl it is for sure. Down here in the south that’s what counts. Some dry dusty balls lots which just cracks when kicked due to the dryness. Some are filled with sand, harder to catch but that is also training. In MD1, the OZZ Top faces the Carnival of Orc’s. Big and green no matter which one you measure. The stable coach @Regor always tough to out plan, out play. To get the advantage you need luck, you only get a friction of it and then it is gone. The feeling of when to try, when to push when or not to is the decider for our game, at least for my part. The green way is always crunch through the opponents, grind to dust. Out here there are plenty of dust, will there be dust in the field today? Only very few knows, I’ll do my best to stay away from the dust being. Will there be some red colors on the Green skins, only a few known that too. We always have great games, this will be one more for the record, one more in the books. The blitzers of Carnival are of course always a threat THE big threat. Can we face them with our few Zombies and bones, yes we can. I’d say it might be a draw tonight. Good luck Reg! I will need it for sure.

Here we go with the last week of the season and this week we get the other Dark Elf team coached by @Corash.

They are still a top team, multiple rr pr turn, guaranteed guard and mb on key players and no po isomewhat make up for the leap nerf but yeah they are no longer the absolute top team as they were in bb2

If BB3 had Kislev they would really be terrible. Can't leap into cages with any reliability and catchers can't get the ball out as easy anymore!