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1 Votes - 5 Average   Scribe's Contest VII - Voting!
Author MessageScribe's Contest VII - Voting!
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Scribe's Contest VII - Voting!Admiral 04-25-2016

Welcome to the voting thread for the 7th Scribe's Contest writing competition - Sports Edition - sponsored by Ravenswood!

"It's a pass!"

How to vote:
Please submit 1 number as a vote by sending a PM to Scribe account (a special account all Staff members can access). We had 5 entries this time, which means each entrant will receive 5 slaves once the winners have been announced. There will be Gold, Silver, and Bronze Scribe's Contest medals to be awarded!

You are not allowed to vote for your own entry.

Voting will close at 11:59 PM April 30h, 2016 EST (Eastern Standard Timezone).   Once the votes are tallied we will post the results.

Subject Matter: Fouls and Fumbles - Blood Bowl Chaos Dwarfs

Entry #1

Zar-Nhaak the Pugilist lived only for the game.

He stood in a red haze of barely-tempered acrimony. Waiting... the promethean effort of his immobile stance visible in the incessant twitch of cheek and brow, and the tense dance of flexing scars etched across corded forearms. Iron shod fingers flexed and curled into white knuckled fists. The skinned ball was hidden, tucked against his body. His focus narrowed onto figures opposite the field in neat formation.

A trumpet blew. Like a spark to kindling, movement arced through his coiled frame; an engine of rage funneled into unstoppable motion. Friend and foe alike were frozen by the fury of his unchecked blitz. In a moment he was among them, clad fists swinging; snapshots of terror; fragments of armor, flesh, blood, and bone yielding in severance as the opposing rank imploded like a pulped Goblin. Ordered lines fell to screaming disarray.  Inertia carried him onward, expanding devastation through the target of his ire.

Anger spent, he slowed and surveyed the field; empty but for the moans and gurgled breath of trampled soldiers. He blinked. Bent swords, broken spears, armor, limbs, and broken banners lay strewn in haphazard piles of twitching rubble. Panicked State Troops fled toward every point of the compass. No ball. No game. No cheering crowd or trophy stand. No nubile cheerleaders, or frothing uber-fans.

The lines of the Dawi Zharr never moved from their battle line; now fell about themselves in evil mirth and laughter.

The red fog descended again.

Entry #2

Estelle Silverleaf laughed in delight as she pirouetted past her marker. He swung a clumsy fist at her face. The punch carried power, but to Estelle it seemed as slow as tree growth. She turned her head slightly, allowing the fist to glide past her cheek rather than flatten her nose; it felt anything but pleasant, but she imagined the impotent fury of the creature that had swung for her, and laughed aloud again.

Her marker - a stunted, twisted thing; brutish and repulsive, with tusks protruding from its bearded face - hurried and hobbled as he tried to keep up. She was too swift for him. Before her, the pitch - black granite, the lines marked by lava - opened up.

Estelle glanced up and back; there, just as she knew it would, the ball flew on a perfect trajectory. Her teammate, Jaden Eagle-eye, never missed. All she had to do was reach out; the ball landed gently in her hands, and she ran. Five paces, ten, and she was in the End Zone. Touchdown!

The crowd roared, and Estelle rejoiced in their adulation. Then she looked back.

Jaden’s broken body was a red smear on the granite. He was not the only one. Everywhere Estelle looked, her teammates - all but a lucky few - were down.

Her eyes locked with the marker she had escaped with such apparent ease. The glint of evil in his glare was unmistakable. With a sudden chill, Estelle realised that the game was not won yet.

Entry #3

Players of Renown

Igniz Stone-Cursed

Race: Chaos Dwarf
Position(s): Blitzer
Team(s): Gundrok’s Stinkers (2500-2504), The Mad Hatters (2504), Hashut’s Fists (2505- )
Status: Active

Igniz Stone-Cursed was a renowned sorcerer who turned to the noble sport of Bloodbowl in 2500, becoming a formidable blitzer for Gundrok’s Stinkers for four seasons. He was instrumental in the Stinkers’ victory against the Moot Shields, notably his brutal dismemberment of Halfling captain Fil Little; earning Igniz the 2503 award for Hashut TV’s Best Kill of the Year. He later joined the Mad Hatters until majority of the team were wiped out by the great mercury sabotage of 2504. Finally he joined the infamous Hashut’s Fists as a star player. During this time he won the Beard Lovers award for Best Beard on Pitch from 2505 to 2509, accrued a new record kill count for the Fists, and played an important part in the team’s victory in the Magma Cup in 2506. Unfortunately, the stone curse that had long dogged Igniz finally caught up in 2508, turning him fully to stone. However, he remains an active part of the team, often used as a battering ram and continues to add to his number of fatalities.

Uzkul Cup Best Newcomer: 2500
Splat Magazine’s Top Twenty Best Noses: (17) 2501, (14) 2502, (15) 2503, (10) 2504-2506, (11) 2507-2508
Hashut TV Best Kill of the Year: 2503
Beard Lovers Best Beard on Pitch: 2505-2509
Magma Cup Most Valuable Player: 2506, 2508
Hashut TV Most Stoic Player: 2509

Entry #4

In the Stadium Box overlooking the team’s field.

“Hey coach. What’s that green stuff they’z playing on down there? And those prissy white lines around da edges?”

“That son is what they play on these days. They calls it ‘Turf’. It’s soft and smooth they say.”

“Ahh sheet. Back in my day we all’uz played on flagstones with only the try-lines. They wuz just the blood of a goblin we’d dragged across the field.”

“Son, you know, when I started it was on lava fields we played and the markings was just a line of rocks on the ground.”

“I remember coach. You alluz took me there an’ trained me on ‘dem old grounds. I can still find the scars.”

“Son. I done teach you all I know’d about playing back in the day. I raised you from a snot-nosed blocker up to the champeen blitzer you become. But this ‘ere game they play now, it be all about looking purty an’ money an’ stuff. Not the thrill of the game.”

The Beardling servant left the two old Dawi Zharrs in the secluded stadium box. He didn’t know who they thought they were, criticizing the great game every time they came here. But his orders were to give them anything they wanted.  

Above him, the old portraits above the bar could hardly be seen, shrouded all in gloom and lamp smoke as they were. Behind him, watching the game in sad silence sat Coach Boot-Face and the Star Player Four-Ears.

Entry #5

The footprints told it all, like a replay. The pitch had been soaking wet from long rains when the match started, and the surviving grass tufts were now even more rare on the mudfield, emptied now where havoc had reigned scant minutes before. Marks of running feet crisscrossed the mud, detailing the game, in between beer cans and bones. The footprints were smudged over in large, gory craters were Bull Centaurs had fallen and Hobgoblins had been nailed hard under layers of diving opponents. Some had even survived.

The referee had survived, too. Unprotected, exposed, a lone voice of order among chaos upon the arena of death, dodging lethal projectiles and aggressive thugs while the roaring spectators had you completely surrounded in their thousands, each one of them a raving madman with throbbing veins on his forehead. At best. The fans' surging enthusiasm and wroth depths of dismay were a monster with a life of its own, howling and frothing in bloodthirst. No wonder an honest guy took some tips from wherever he could find them. Extra cash was always welcome, especially if it could pay you to get away from the hellhole that was a Blood Bowl stadium. The referee wondered whether he'd survive the losing team's wrath. Well, a smart guy didn't shy away from taking bribes from both directions...

He could still see the half-buried remains of his predecessor in a corner, exposed by a mob brawl. The referee nodded sagely. Aye, the footprints told it all.

Remember, the Gold winner's prize will be one unpainted miniature of Bezhukk the Immortal:

While the Silver winner's prize will be this original drawing by Hunter:

Great job folks and good luck!

The Staff

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04-25-2016 02:27 AM
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Scribe's Contest VII - Voting! - Admiral - 04-25-2016 02:27 AM

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