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   The mist rises over Three Rivers. This is a dingy little town in the centre of the Empire. The only reason the place exists is that it's the meeting of three rivers. (as the town's imaginative name suggests.) This has lead to it being the premier market town in the area. Which isn’t saying much. The main reason anyone comes here that does not involves selling sheep is the fact that the town has plenty of flat land, and the local baron’s Grandfather built a Blood Bowl pitch. Lord Featherhiem went all out, and even included some stands, making it the premier location on this part of the Backwoods Blood Bowl circuit. Thats is why you are here, you and your new team mates trudge into town, carrying all your worldly belongings on your backs (or in the cart with the slightly wonky wheel.) Its cold, its damp, the whole place smells like wet rot, but you don’t care. You're going to play some Blood Bowl. This has been your dream for a long time, you know you have what it takes to play for the Reikland Reavers, but they are never going to notice you until you get spotted by a talent scout. So here you are, signing up with a new team, ready to play your first game and get yourself into action. there are thirteen of you, eleven players, a coach who’s bankrolling the thing, and a rather crazed looking apothecary just waiting for some injuries. Ahead of you stands the town's largest Inn - The Dugout - this is where you need to sign up and start your path to glory! Wolfgang Adler You see a man sititng board looking at a desk with a crudely written sign above it. the sign reads “Aplications” and the man looks like he’s been there all day, he’s carving into a desk that seems to be rapidly running out of room. Behind him is a chalk board with some writing on it. What do you do? Everyone Else Your standing in the Tavern, so close to your dreams. Is there anything you want to do while your new boss registers the team? [i]Welcome to Warhammer FRPG meets bloodbowl! You should all know the PBP ideas, but incase not, please put your character name in bold, your in character in normal and your out of character in italics. If you want to make a roll for something, feel free to set your own difficulty if you think it seems fair, and use Orrokus. I can always modify the difficulty after the fact. For now, We are just going to run through the pre-game fixtures, its up to our new coach to get you registered and get you an opponent. but if you can think of something your character can be doing - go for it. The Team Wolfgang "The Wolf of Ball Street" Adler: Coach/Manager/Owner/Bossman/God-King Ulrike "WeberMD" Leinweber: Gustav "Nightmare on Helm Street" Kruger: Blitzer Siegfried "New Bauer" Neubauer: Blitzer Felix "Too Many Consenants" Gschwendtner: Blitzer Gottfried "Big Harm from the Pig Farm" Olbricht: Blitzer with a medical degree Johann "Ol' Copper Eyes" Sauber: Catcher Dieter "The Repeater" Harting: Catcher Otto "Blue Ribbon" Pabst: Catcher Otto "Ottopilot" Leipnitz: Thrower Pieter "The Cheater" Kluge: Otto "The Other Otto" Sinkel: Lineman "We're too scared of his reaction to give this guy a nickname" Fegudd: Ogre (obviously) Good luck, and may Nuffle smile in your general direction!
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Sep 4, 2015 08:15
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Wolfgang (I'm going with the one team name that had more than one person's support, but if a more widely-preferred name should come up, I'll edit it in.) Wolfgang could hardly believe that it was really happening. It was surprisingly easy to found his new Blood Bowl team, and finding players was much simpler than he'd imagined. Apparently, the mere possibility of fame and wealth will attract plenty of people willing to risk their lives for it. He strides up to the desk, his cane echoing each step. He didn't need it to walk, it was just fashionable. Adjusting his grip, he raps gently on the "aplications" desk (in a podunk like this, Wolfgang surmised that proper spelling was a luxury) with the jeweled head of the cane, to get the attendant's attention. "Pardon me, I'm here to sign my team up for use of the local Blood Bowl pitch. Place the reservation under the team name, the Violent Drunks, please."
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Sep 4, 2015 09:45
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Siegfried Neubauer If there is one thing Siegfried has learned from years and years of following Blood Bowl teams it is that the tavern is the place where everybody talks bets. He tries to not look like a future blood bowl superstar and starts asking about who to bet on in the local leagues. "So, uh, how about them... Knights?" 44 for gossip(+10) on local teams and players. fel 30/int 28 I have super numerate so maybe a bonus to finding out the odds?
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Sep 4, 2015 23:13
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 Fegudd Fegudd sits, Fegudd waits, Fegudd drinks! Fegudd found bowl of peanuts. Fegudd eats peanuts. Fegudd eats bowl. Fegudd hungry, Fegudd look to man who get Fegudd playing Blood Bowl. Fegudd play Blood Bowl, Fegudd eat good!
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Sep 5, 2015 03:46
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 Gottfried Gottfried sits far, far away from the ogre, in one of the tavern's many corners; the want for a darkened corner table to dramatically emerge from or be approached at by the adventurers of the world had greatly influenced modern tavern design, and so most of the more popular taverns had renovated to add superfluous walls to artificially create more corners. It didn't make any sense to Gottfried, but he was a man of science, so he simply ignored the idiocy of the common folk. ".. and that is why there is a foolish divide between PRO-septics and ANTI-septics in the world of medicine." He sits back, smugly, as he shakes his head. "I mean, I can get why someone would rid the body of toxins, but your septics? You NEED septics. I mean, what fool doesn't know what a septic is in the eyes of Sigmar?" He gives the unfortunate Blood Bowl hopeful who had joined him and his medical buddy in their horrible conversation a pointed look, as if to say, 'It's you. You are the one who does not know the words we use. You are an idiot and the head injury you will inevitably earn will only improve your intelligence.' But then he sneezes, so it's possible the cross-eyed look was simply a precursor to that.
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Sep 5, 2015 04:29
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Dieter Harting Dieter hovers by the bar, dividing his attention between a mug of the cheapest local brew and a bread roll. "'m here with a new team," he tells the nearest barmaid. "We haven't, uh, played any games yet, but I think we're going to be good at this." "That's, uh, Mr. Fegudd over there -" he gestures with the roll - "he's on our team and he's pretty scary, isn't he? That's Gottfried, he's real clever, I don't really understand him most of the time, but that's a good thing, don't you think? Over there's Otto, and that's Otto, and the other Otto... I don't really know everyone that well, we're new at this, but they all seem nice. You should come and see us play, definitely, I think we've got a real good chance."
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Sep 6, 2015 16:21
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 Pieter Kluge And over here with have Pieter. Pieter loves Blood Bowl, Pieter joined because his father played Blood Bowl, and he played it like a true player of the sport. In that he cheated often and repeatedly and as much as he could get away with it, to the point where he once got expelled 3 times from the same game because he kept getting back onto the pitch under a different name every time. Bernholdt Kluge sharpened the hobs on his boots and took classes in anatomy before every game; Bernholdt used to serve the beer before a lot of game, in the tavern that the opposing team just happened to be in, and that happened to contain a little more then the standered hops, "extra strength" as it were. He knew several ways to severely inconvenience someone with knees, elbows, teeth, hands, and feet, and knew almost every illicit apothecary and concealable 'self-defence' merchant in the city. Bernholdt near the end of his career got sent off most games, and the games where he wasn't was because he was either injured or the ref never caught him, that is how dedicated to playing unfairly he was. That right there is a man you can look up to, and Pieter would like nothing more then to follow in his footsteps, although possibly he would stop at the part where halflings kicked pappy to death on the pitch with their sharp hobnailed boots after his "fancy footwork" removed a treeman from the pitch, but every part up to that point, most defiantly. And he thought the best place to start would be wearing his dad's old boots. One step at a time and all. TheNabster fucked around with this message at 22:25 on Sep 6, 2015 |
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Sep 6, 2015 22:15
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 Otto"Ottopilot" Leipnitz Otto simply sat at the bar and stared into his ale, wondering how things had gone so array. He thought of his uncle, their raft and falling down that water fall, vanishing in the waters below while on some kind of wacky adventure, only now his uncle was gone, though the rogue sorcerer would likely turn up again soon. AS he nursed his ale he looked at the others and wondered how'd he fit in.
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Sep 7, 2015 08:12
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Wolfgang The man looks up with some interest on his face - while he does not relish the paperwork, at least this is something of a break from the dull routine. "Ah. Okay. Lets just check the team records to make sure that's not already registered. Lets see....." He flips through some paperwork. "The Violent Orks, The Violent Elves, The Violent Violets, Violence!.... No, No Violent Drunks yet." He settles down to fill out the paperwork. This takes about an hour of dull questions. After that he passes a contact over to you. "This will legals register the Violent Drunks as a Bloodbowl team. You will be required to stage your first match within the next week - to, heh, consummate the deal. We'll also need to get your players sworn in - they have to take an oath to follow the holy laws set down by Nuffle himself. Formality really in this day of age. After that, you'll be able to pick and choose your matches. Just remember that the NAFF cut is 15% off the top!" You sign the paper and he take most of what is left of your money. There is no going back now! "Right, just head on back for the oath when you are ready!" Gottfried "The Lark Knights?" The tout asks "Their a University team, made up of students - they vary in quality, as who plays for them varies on the intake for the year. Their on the rise at the moment - a couple of noblemen are putting their brutes of sons through on "sporting scholarships", but the rest of the team is more intellectual than physical." You seem gotten him talking now. "See, the smart money in this town's on the Urcs R High. They may be stoners off the pitch, but their bruisers on the pitch - three black orcs! They just finished up a match against the only other team here at the moment - that Halfling lot "Halftime Oranges". They coach says that's what they are here for. Can't figure out if he's stupid playing smart or smart playing stupid that one. 'Course" He says, motioning to Wolfgang at the desk. "Looks like we might have a new team of fresh meat soon. Everyone loves the newbies, you never know what you're going to get! So, you're signed up, and know something about the teams you could be facing. You just need to take the oath and then arrange yourself a match!
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Sep 7, 2015 09:28
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Wolfgang Having finished the paperwork, Wolfgang moves to gather his players with a quick series of shoulder taps and beckoning whistles. "Okay, heads up, team. We're all registered, but you've still gotta take your oaths to Nuffle and so on, so let's put some hustle into it, the sooner we're officially a team, the sooner we can arrange a match and start training. I've got a regimen all planned for you, so, gods willing, you'll have the fundamentals of your respective positions drilled into you just in time for you to die on the pitch in about a week's time." He delivers the speech with a matter-of-fact tone, though a wry edge creeps in as he implies the inevitability of the players' deaths. He doesn't actually expect them to die, of course, but a dose of fear should motivate them to mastering some measure of survival skills. His team's a motley lot, fresh-faced and inexperienced. Wolfgang has his work cut out for him, but he has no intention of becoming one of those coaches who gets half his team killed in his first game. He spent half the family fortune on this endeavor, he's not going to rest until he's made it back, and then some. Last thing he needs is to give his father another reason to bitch and moan about him.
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Sep 7, 2015 20:27
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Gottfried "An oath? No problem! I say plenty of oaths! No one takes those very seriously, I mean they even had one to become a barber-surgeon. Ha!" He shakes his head in bemusement, leaning back in his chair and kicking his feet up onto the table. "I'll say any bloody oath you need me to say, so long as it puts men on my slab and gives me a chance to make some wooden prosthetics."
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Sep 8, 2015 23:23
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Ulrike "Yes, sure, I know how to treat choking." Ulrike slips in the tavern door just in time to hear the last of Wolfgang's rousing speech; her search for a quick medicine buy hadn't turned up anything besides a glassblower who had tried to sell her a bag of assorted spices, none of them actually medicinal. "Hopefully things will be easier on the road," she thinks. "I knew I should have taken some of dad's supply before leaving." She makes a mental note to let Wolfgang know. Maybe he knows some people. "I'll appreciate the extra supply," she says to Gottfried's offer of prosthetics. "Never was much good at that part of the job; I always liked cutting on people more than wood." She turns towards the larger group as she continues. "I hope to see some interesting injuries from you lot! Not that I hope you get injured, I mean, just that- I- you know what I mean."
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Sep 8, 2015 23:57
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Fegudd Fegudd eats some more, then something tickles his brain. Ah they are talking. "Oaths?" He blinks. "Die?" Shakes his head. "No die. Can't eat if die." He climbs to his feet as other words reach him. "Wood'n prosisisisisis taste good?"
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Sep 9, 2015 06:01
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The back of The Dugout. The team file to the back of the inn and then form two ragged lines. The clerk goes into a back room for a minute, then return with blood splattered robes. Well, until you look closer and see its white robes dyed a dark red. "Repeat after me!" "I solemnly swear, in front of the great and powerful Nuffle." He pauses for everyone to catch up. Some players, notably the largest, take a few seconds longer to repeat the larger words. "That I, Insert Name Here, will abide by his holy rule upon the pitch - to not carry weapons unto the hallowed field. To not kick a man when he is down. To not field more than the sacred number of eleven players at once. To Play well and respect the results. This is do swear." With this completed he takes off the robes and speaks to Wolfgang again. "Right. That's that, welcome to Blood Bowl! Speak with the other coaches around here to try and arrange your first match. Good luck!" Right, who do you want to try and arrange a match with? The Humans, the Orcs or the Halflings?
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Sep 10, 2015 08:54
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Wolfgang Stroking his chin for a moment, Wolfgang turns to what is now, officially, his team. "Alright, everybody, well done, we're off to a great start so far. Now, I'm going to arrange a match for us, and then we can get to training. I saw a meadow at the edge of town that should be perfect for the job, and it didn't seem like it belonged to anyone. Feel free to make your way there, just be sure Fegudd doesn't eat anything that belongs to anyone on the way. If you do go ahead, be sure to bring the cart, there's some training dummies in there, I'll explain how to set them up once I arrive. Ulrike, as the closest thing to an assistant coach, you're in charge until I get back." Having relayed his orders, Wolfgang slips into the crowd before Ulrike can protest her appointment to babysitter, and begins looking for the Halfling team's owner.
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Sep 10, 2015 10:41
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Wolfgang It takes a little looking around to find the Halfling coach, but with a little asking around and a few points in the right direction, you soon find yourself at the entrance to the Graveyard. There, by three freshly dug plots stand a dozen Halfling's, who are just finishing up what you can only assume is the burial of retired players.
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Sep 10, 2015 10:44
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Wolfgang Rather than intrude, Wolfgang waits for the Halflings to conclude their funerary proceedings before approaching. "Pardon me, which one of you is the team's manager? I'd like to discuss scheduling a game for the end of the week. My team just registered, and we're looking to get our first match under our belts."
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Sep 10, 2015 11:24
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Wolfgang The Halfling Coach gives you the thousand yard (and no touchdown) stare. "Yes, I'm Lugar Applesauce, coach of the Halftime Oranges. I'm not entirely sure if we are ready for another match - the last one cost us hard, and the new players are not fully integrated into the team. Plus its going to be hard on the lads to lose some more guys so quickly." So, we;re going to need a -20 fellowship test here to convince the shell-shocked halflings they need to match up with you.
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Sep 12, 2015 05:42
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Wolfgang (Well, I was looking at a 17% to start with, neither Etiquette nor Schemer seemed to apply, so my hopes weren't high. I got a 76.) Seeing the little guys in such sorry shape puts Wolfgang on the back foot, and he's unable to find the right words. The anemic, severely atrophied remains of his conscience had sputtered to life long enough to give him second thoughts about using Halflings as glorified training equipment. "Well, perhaps some other time, then," he mumbles. Embarrassed by his uncharacteristic flash of empathy, Wolfgang hastens away, instead seeking out the human team. Surely fellow Imperials would be a fair match, experience aside.
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Sep 12, 2015 06:18
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Gottfried Gottfried waits patiently back at the tavern, slowly draining a mug of some unknowable yellow-brown liquor; had he the words for it, he certainly would not label it as a pleasantly warm lager with a nutty aftertaste, since it tasted like it was filtered through a dwarf's hirsute asscrack. At least it wasn't water; Ranald knew what happened to people who drank water. With nothing better to do, the doctor digs out a block of wood a good bit larger than his own foot and carefully peels his boot off, kicking his foot up into another chair and drawing his whittling knife. He holds the block up, glancing between it and his foot, and, sticking his tongue out for concentration (a habit he has paid for in the past while doing surgeries on elves), he begins to carve. Craft Roll: http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4870841/ TN 44, rolled 24 After some time, he holds up a fairly decent wooden foot, nodding to himself and setting it down on the counter. It even had a notch in it to stick one's peg leg. Gottfried beamed; he certainly felt brilliant. Not that he had anyone who needed it. He looked at some of the hopeful blood bowl players gathered in the bar as he pulled his boot back on and scratched his chin. Yet, he added, to himself, in his brain. John Dyne fucked around with this message at 21:26 on Sep 17, 2015 |
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Sep 17, 2015 21:13
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Fegudd Waiting for anything else to do Fegudd goes back to eating, as he does so Gottfried begins to whittle a foot. As the wood is shaved down into a decent foot shavings go flying, and a number land in front of Fegudd, who proceeds to eat them thinking they were some sort of crisp potato or something. He cannot tell that they are not food as they go down fairly easily.
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Sep 17, 2015 21:21
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The Lark Knights are at the training field. Their coach is trying to get them to train, but they seem to be spending more time trying to impress the cheerleaders - who are doing their best to watch the players without looking like they are. The Coach is a fifty year old man who looks like he drinks to much, as you approach, he's screaming at his blitzer "Come on Herringbone! Run like a three hundred pound orc is after ya!" He looks around "Flintz! Pass that ball before.....OOF!! Well, you learned something there didn't you!" He noticed you and blows his whistle to call a halt. The players slink off towards the sideline, where the cheerleaders begin to practice all of a sudden. "Ah, you must be the new fish! I'm Lance Porik. I've been the coach of the Lark Knights for the last thirty years - ever since I washed out of the Uni! Har har har. So, youse lookin for a match? We just had one, and some of the boys think a win against the Halflings will look good on their records." This time its a +10 fellowship (guess what, if you fail this, then you'll be playing the orcs!
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Sep 18, 2015 10:50
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Wolfgang (Well, this time went much better, as I rolled well enough that I could have even convinced the Halflings, never mind this guy, 13.) Before speaking, Wolfgang silently thanks every god he can remember the names of (both of them) that he doesn't have to take to the field personally. Fortunately, he has the perfect line all ready, given his recent experience. "I'm afraid the Halfling team would be a bit of a dead end right now, they're in no mood to play against anyone after their last match, I just came from having interrupted their funerary rites. That having been said, I think we can both agree that a match against each other would be far preferable to either of us playing the orcs. So, how about it?"
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Sep 18, 2015 11:20
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The Training Field. "Really? I know the little guys exist to take a punching, but it'd be a shame to lose the recovery matches - if you know what I mean." Proik replies. "Right, then you are our next match! How about in two days time - gives me a time to sober these guys up, and you time to get some last minute planning in. Good enough?"
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Sep 18, 2015 14:21
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Wolfgang Wolfgang nods. "Absolutely, I'll see you then." Leaving the other team to their training, Wolfgang heads for the meadow he'd told Ulrike to lead his team to. Hopefully she'd managed to corral the players, any delay would mean that much less training, which would make it that much more likely that someone would die on the pitch.
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Sep 18, 2015 17:22
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Siegfried "New Bauer" Neubauer: Blitzer ".gives me a time to sober these guys up...a time to sober these guys up...sober these guys up..." suddenly Siegfried has a plan for the game. In the mean time he starts trying to imitate stretching. He has lots of experience "cleaning up" after games, but not much with actually playing...
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Sep 18, 2015 20:21
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Training time! Once the match starts , you will only be able to communicate via screaming. So it might be in you best interests to have some game plans!
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Sep 19, 2015 06:14
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Pieter Kluge Pieter claps his hands together, bubbling with anticipation. "Alright, Dad says, human teams is easy, they're pretty much just like us in terms of strength and the like, no buggers that you really need to watch out for, 'cept for the other Ogre but Fergudd can 'andle that'" "But because they likes us, they'll want an advantage over us, so they'll be cheatin' like no ones business if they have 'alf the inclination to. Pack a good codpiece, no one likes being kicked in the nadgers, and make sure yer got steel toe caps in yer boots, leather boots are comfortable and all but 'obs are sharp and getting yer foot trod on with 'obs ain't fun. Oh an' it's usually a skinny but fast bugger that gets a 'old of the ball when they want to score, now I ain't saying you should accidently tread on him multiple times with 'obnailed boots if he 'its the turf mind you, but if you happen to be in the area and the referee is just so 'appening to not be looking your way, well you are independent enough to make the decision yourself" TheNabster fucked around with this message at 10:38 on Sep 19, 2015 |
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Sep 19, 2015 10:27
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Game plan: give the ball to someone, run past the enemy team, don't die.
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Sep 30, 2015 17:39
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I think you mean run over the enemy team.
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Sep 30, 2015 22:13
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Wolfgang (I was kind of waiting for people to make posts of going to the training site, but I'll just assume you all made it there without incident.) With his team safely at the chosen training grounds, and the town surprisingly intact, Wolfgang begins to lead the others in unloading the training dummies from their cart. He begins by having Siegfriend, Gustav, Gottfried, and Felix set up four large, heavy dummies at one end of the field. "Okay, your job is to make those dummies hurt. Pushing them back is okay. Knocking them down is good. Breaking them is better. There's some spares in the cart, in case you actually manage to wreck a couple of them." Finishing with the blitzers, he turns to Fegudd and gestures to a sturdy-looking oak at the edge of the field. "Hey, big guy, see that tree over there? Your goal is to knock it over by ramming it. If you smash it into splinters, even better. Once you're done, go find another tree and knock it over, until we're done training." Having explain Fegudd's training in what he assumed were sufficiently small words, he approached Dieter, Johann, and Ottos Pabst and Liepnitz, who had set up some light dummies in a staggered pattern. "Okay, here's what we're gonna do. Liepnitz, your job is to take a practice ball from the cart, and throw it to those three guys at the other end of the dummies. Then they run through the dummies to give the ball back to you. You three, take turns running the ball, but if you touch a dummy, you gotta go back and start over." Wolfgang then approaches Otto Sinkel, positioned a few dozen yards away from a wooden pole planted into the soft soil of the meadow. "Okay, grab a practice ball from the cart and practice kicking it at that pole. Work at it until you can get it to hit the pole every time, then, I guess go join the blitzers for tackle practice." With that out of the way Wolfgang finds Pieter, for whom he had had commissioned a very special training device. "Hey, buddy, I'm gonna be helping you out for this training. See that dummy? There's a pedal, and when I step on it, the dummy turns around, that's the referee dummy. And that dummy laying on the ground next to you, yeah, that's your target. When the referee dummy's not facing you, I want you to stomp on the target as hard and as quickly as you can, and stop as soon as the ref starts to turn towards you. I'll be working the pedal, since we don't really have any staff yet, so I better see some hustle." Ulrike has been left by the cart, with a dummy with crude representations of common injuries placed inside holes in the dummy's body. A note is attached to it, next to a pair of forceps, reading, "Don't touch the sides!"
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Oct 1, 2015 01:18
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Dieter Harting Dieter seems full of enthusiasm and energy as the team assembles for training, bouncing from one foot to another on the spot. He looks a little deflated after Pieter makes the case for kicking the crap out of any fast, skinny buggers in sight. "But, um, the other blokes won't have the same idea of doing that to us, though? Right?" he asks quietly to nobody in particular, looking worried. He pays attention to Wolfgang's instructions, though, and offers a friendly nod to Johann and the Ottos. "Yes sir, cap'n. We'll outrun the poo poo out of these dummies."
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Oct 3, 2015 18:35
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Gottfried Gottfried noisily eats a dwarven taco while sitting on the sidelines. The others were busy doing football poo poo, but he figured, as a doctor, he needed his three meats and veg before getting on the field and shoulderchecking inanimate objects.
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Oct 27, 2015 15:31
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