"What? We're gonna be playin' un'erground?!" Coach Ronin was not best impressed with the choice of venue, clearly favouring the rancid-cheese-snorting Skaven. "Well, you guyz are gonna 'ave to git out there and smash 'em, right 'ard!"
Zan Longtooth, thrower and easily the brightest of this brawn-not-brains team, took the opportunity to kick first, figuring that they could use the first drive to whittle the flimsy Skaven down and then carry the ball to the endzone with nary a rat in sight. Just one problem: the Rat Ogre. Practise games had revealed that this monsterous fleapit had the capacity to cause serious holes in the Orc's otherwise solid line. Little did they know...
Lined up for a hard, fast blitz, aiming to kill them fast, the ball sailed... straight into the stinking hands of the rat thrower. Moments later, the Rat Ogre and one of the Stormvermin punched a gaping hole in the Orc defensive line and two sneaky Gutter Runners streamed right through. Already, the opening tactic of "beat them to death" was in shambles and one Orc Linesman was being carried off the pitch, knocked clean out of it.
Scrambling to regain some semblance of defence, a quick audible from Zan had the wing Blitzers falling back to man-mark the Gutter Runners and hamper any incoming pass and a solid diving block put one of them on the floor, stunned and singing some mad song about Brie.
The Orc defensive line continued to collapse, even the (exceptionally stupid) Troll being slammed back. The Skaven started their push for the endzone, running their thrower into a pocket just over the halfway line. The other Gutter Runner nimbly dodging around more clumsy Orcs and screaming for the other corner, ready for a deep pass. Only Blitzers and brave Zan stand between the Skaven and the first touchdown.
Hurting but not completely beaten, the D-line throws itself back to its feet, with the exception of the Troll soon to be known as "Too Effin' Stupid To Live" and a pair of Blitzers make a valiant push into the Skaven pocket. Munki Majik, Blitzer, punches through and bears down on the stilton-stinking thrower, while on the other side of the pitch the beleaguered line peels off and tries to fill in the holes and stop the seemingly unstoppable Skaven piledrive.
Then it is that the brave Orcs have their first bit of luck. It is almost as though the Skaven have worn themselves out in the first few minutes and the line holds and holds again, even the Rat Ogre finding it better to scream animal rage than to actually push forward. The rat-faced ball carrier looks startled at this clearly unexpected turn of events and does a sudden U-turn, dodging to the other side of the pitch behind the Skaven O-line. Another pocket starts to form, albeit weaker, but the first hole had been plugged.
Gutter Runners in the back field, holes on both flanks, Zan would have every right to feel demoralised but every Orc knows that victory is just a matter of punching harder than the enemy and Zan proves this right then. An incredible haymaker leaves one tricky Gutter Runner stone cold in the endzone, dragged off by snivelling rat vets. Heartened, the D-line starts to reform and usually clumsy Linesmen dart at the new pocket to slow its movement. Perhaps they can cut this drive dead after all?
More running behind the O-line, the Skaven thrower looks for an opening, chased by the Troll who, with one syllable instructions, manages to find its way through the Skaven line. Unfortunately, the following "look out for that Rat Ogre" shout was blissfully ignored and saw the Troll being dragged off the pitch by the dedicate Orc medical team.
The Skaven pocket stands strong against the Orcs, despite a line of Blitzers pushing hard to make a hole. Then the Rat Ogre, screaming murder, piles through the side of the remaining D-line and leaves a hole big enough for much of the pockmarked vermin to push their ball carrier into the centre and surround him with a wall of mangy fur.
Gasping for air, run back and forth, punched down repeatedly, the Orcs scramble to try to slow this fresh drive as half time looms. A last desperate blitz by quick-footed Munky fails to reach the ball carrier as a wave of rats rises up to throw him to the floor.
Another Blitzer takes rat-foot in the face and adds to the pile of Orcs in the KO tent and the Orc line crumbles. The Skaven thrower screams through the hole, still covered by a portion of his pocket, endzone in sight and no Orcs within range. Zan takes stock of the field and sees that it's a lost cause in this half, so the cry goes up, "Get to the fightin'!" Zan puts the other Gutter Runner to the floor but the team's heart isn't in it. Something about letting the ball go free just doesn't sit right, not least because so many of the team have already been carried off the pitch.
Just minutes to go before half-time, the Skaven score. But while the scrawny rats jubilate, Zan gathers his team, now all revived with exceptionally foul smelling salts and tells them the plan.
"Ain't no chance of scorin' this 'alf. But we got a few minutes and we can sure make 'em pay. Get in dere, boyz, and make 'em hurt."
Sure enough, emboldened by their success, the rats line up as if they have all the strength in the world, knowing there's no chance for the puny Orcs to score before half time. But the whole Orc team, bar Zan who needs to receive, lines up on the O-line and throws back the Skaven blitz without blinking an eye.
Backfooted, the cowardly Gutter Runners start to flee for their own endzone, scared of the incoming punishment. The Orc line pushes back, throwing the blitz away, then the Troll takes the Rat Ogre by the neck and head-butts them both into the floor. A few moments later, the Troll stands back up but the Rat Ogre stays down. Turns out that Trolls have harder heads than Rat Ogres. Complete KO.
The first half ends with a little up note and the Orc supporters dare to believe that their team might just come back in the second half, jeering the rats as their Ogre is dragged off the pitch by its tail.
Second half opens and Green 'n' Mean fans hold their breath as they watch the Skaven dugout, but the Rat Ogre does not reappear. The rats line up only ten versus a full complement of Orcs. Quietly, chastened by the beating they took in the first half, the Orcs buckle down and prepare to drive hard.
An almost perfect reception by Zan, he pushes up to his O-line and a free lineman and three of his Blitzers form a pocket around him. The substantially weakened Skaven D-line is immediately thrown to the floor, one seeing his life flash before his eyes before being recovered by the medics due to serious injuries and another KO just a moment later courtesy of the Troll (now pepped up on "just hit everything" instructions).
Enraged by the brutality, both Stormvermin smash straight into a leading Linesman, throwing him into a waiting foul by one of the dirtiest rats. The referee, no laggard, promptly sent the cheating scum from the field, but at the cost of a seriously wounded Orc. Diagnosis: broken jawbone. Prognosis: certainly missing the next match.
Unperturbed, Zan leads his pocket to the right, intent on running the ball home. Even down a man, without their Rat Ogre the Skaven cannot stand up to the might of angry Orcs looking for a fight.
With the Stormvermin as the vanguard, the remaining rats try to punch through. One Blitzer hits the floor, out cold, but the line holds and the ball pushes swiftly down the pitch without serious resistance. Just a pair of Gutter Runners between Zan and the endzone and really them just a paper defence against hardened Orc Blitzers. Even their agility helps them none as the pocket puts one to the floor as he tries to entangle Zan.
Another dives through the pocket, almost getting its filthy hands to the ball. Unstoppable, the pocket smashes the last ditch resistance, sending the unworthy Gutter Runner to the medical tent, and leads Zan right into the endzone, Skaven scattered and simply lacking the manpower to make a difference.
With nearly a quarter of the match to go, the Orcs hope to use their fighting power to get a second touchdown in the second half. Unfortunately, their losses are beginning to show. One still unconscious, one seriously wounded, needs must bring the reserve Goblin onto the pitch.
"Look, you, just bite dem in dere ankles, or summat." That was the advice that Zan bestowed on the over-eager reserve. "And you," he tells the Troll, "keep hittin' everythin' in front of ya."
Ten Orcs versus nine Skaven. Fair odds on a fair day, but this was anything but a fair day. The Skaven lined up in a flank-heavy configuration, ready to push one side, then pushed straight into the waiting D-line barely a second after the ball arced over the half way flags. Their push tears holes in both sides of the line and rats scuttle swiftly through, filling the backfield with waiting receivers.
Once again, the Orcs face an ineviable choice: gang up and fight, or spread out and mark. Clearly better at the first, but fearing a loss, Zan audibles for man-marking and his team responds quickly. Blitzers chase their targets, harassing them from downfield. Even the Goblin, Mugs, finds himself hanging onto the cloak of a speeding Gutter Runner. Only the Troll, now confused as the enemy is behind him, fails to take sensible action.
Realising that the rats' superior agility won't let his Orcs mark them for long, Zan throws himself at the Goblin-hampered Gutter Runner but misjudges the distance and lands them both on the floor. Dazed, he fails to see the glint of steel as a clanrat prompt stabs one of his Linemen through the eye, killing him instantly. The crowd screams for the referee but no card is forthcoming, no foul is professed. "Is just a block," the referee declares, but the Orc fans know better.
The rats jink left. The rats scuffle right. But the Orcs stick to them like crabs to testicles. One Stormvermin falls prey to a coordinated strike from a Blitzer and even the Troll manages to figure out that furry things equals stuff to hit, but the ball is a long way away and the Orcs are spread thin. A victory looks unlikely. Just need to hold out for the draw.
Then the rats pause. It's almost as though the fight has gone out of them. Down their Rat Ogre and a Stormvermin, undermanned and efficiently marked, they try to run the ball just because they can't see anything else to do.
Then they see their chance and the Skaven thrower streams down the pitch and hands off to the remaining Stormvermin. Tangled by the Goblin and an Orc Blitzer, he tries for a daring end-of-game push through the line. It's to no avail. The Blitzer puts him down just as the clock runs out.
Final score, 1-1, but with the Orcs weakened by a death and an injury for their next game it could be considered a morale victory for the Skaven. Orc commentators, though, would remark that it was a technical victory for the Orcs on account of neutralising the Skaven's speed and holding the game to a draw in the face of a heavy beating.
Battered, bruised, Green 'n' Mean needs to regroup and rethink to face their upcoming match against the Dwarves.
tl;dr
Stop being so lazy and go and read it.
That said, I don't think I can write another game summary of that length again. This one took nearly two hours!
Zan Longtooth, thrower and easily the brightest of this brawn-not-brains team, took the opportunity to kick first, figuring that they could use the first drive to whittle the flimsy Skaven down and then carry the ball to the endzone with nary a rat in sight. Just one problem: the Rat Ogre. Practise games had revealed that this monsterous fleapit had the capacity to cause serious holes in the Orc's otherwise solid line. Little did they know...
Lined up for a hard, fast blitz, aiming to kill them fast, the ball sailed... straight into the stinking hands of the rat thrower. Moments later, the Rat Ogre and one of the Stormvermin punched a gaping hole in the Orc defensive line and two sneaky Gutter Runners streamed right through. Already, the opening tactic of "beat them to death" was in shambles and one Orc Linesman was being carried off the pitch, knocked clean out of it.
Scrambling to regain some semblance of defence, a quick audible from Zan had the wing Blitzers falling back to man-mark the Gutter Runners and hamper any incoming pass and a solid diving block put one of them on the floor, stunned and singing some mad song about Brie.
The Orc defensive line continued to collapse, even the (exceptionally stupid) Troll being slammed back. The Skaven started their push for the endzone, running their thrower into a pocket just over the halfway line. The other Gutter Runner nimbly dodging around more clumsy Orcs and screaming for the other corner, ready for a deep pass. Only Blitzers and brave Zan stand between the Skaven and the first touchdown.
Hurting but not completely beaten, the D-line throws itself back to its feet, with the exception of the Troll soon to be known as "Too Effin' Stupid To Live" and a pair of Blitzers make a valiant push into the Skaven pocket. Munki Majik, Blitzer, punches through and bears down on the stilton-stinking thrower, while on the other side of the pitch the beleaguered line peels off and tries to fill in the holes and stop the seemingly unstoppable Skaven piledrive.
Then it is that the brave Orcs have their first bit of luck. It is almost as though the Skaven have worn themselves out in the first few minutes and the line holds and holds again, even the Rat Ogre finding it better to scream animal rage than to actually push forward. The rat-faced ball carrier looks startled at this clearly unexpected turn of events and does a sudden U-turn, dodging to the other side of the pitch behind the Skaven O-line. Another pocket starts to form, albeit weaker, but the first hole had been plugged.
Gutter Runners in the back field, holes on both flanks, Zan would have every right to feel demoralised but every Orc knows that victory is just a matter of punching harder than the enemy and Zan proves this right then. An incredible haymaker leaves one tricky Gutter Runner stone cold in the endzone, dragged off by snivelling rat vets. Heartened, the D-line starts to reform and usually clumsy Linesmen dart at the new pocket to slow its movement. Perhaps they can cut this drive dead after all?
More running behind the O-line, the Skaven thrower looks for an opening, chased by the Troll who, with one syllable instructions, manages to find its way through the Skaven line. Unfortunately, the following "look out for that Rat Ogre" shout was blissfully ignored and saw the Troll being dragged off the pitch by the dedicate Orc medical team.
The Skaven pocket stands strong against the Orcs, despite a line of Blitzers pushing hard to make a hole. Then the Rat Ogre, screaming murder, piles through the side of the remaining D-line and leaves a hole big enough for much of the pockmarked vermin to push their ball carrier into the centre and surround him with a wall of mangy fur.
Gasping for air, run back and forth, punched down repeatedly, the Orcs scramble to try to slow this fresh drive as half time looms. A last desperate blitz by quick-footed Munky fails to reach the ball carrier as a wave of rats rises up to throw him to the floor.
Another Blitzer takes rat-foot in the face and adds to the pile of Orcs in the KO tent and the Orc line crumbles. The Skaven thrower screams through the hole, still covered by a portion of his pocket, endzone in sight and no Orcs within range. Zan takes stock of the field and sees that it's a lost cause in this half, so the cry goes up, "Get to the fightin'!" Zan puts the other Gutter Runner to the floor but the team's heart isn't in it. Something about letting the ball go free just doesn't sit right, not least because so many of the team have already been carried off the pitch.
Just minutes to go before half-time, the Skaven score. But while the scrawny rats jubilate, Zan gathers his team, now all revived with exceptionally foul smelling salts and tells them the plan.
"Ain't no chance of scorin' this 'alf. But we got a few minutes and we can sure make 'em pay. Get in dere, boyz, and make 'em hurt."
Sure enough, emboldened by their success, the rats line up as if they have all the strength in the world, knowing there's no chance for the puny Orcs to score before half time. But the whole Orc team, bar Zan who needs to receive, lines up on the O-line and throws back the Skaven blitz without blinking an eye.
Backfooted, the cowardly Gutter Runners start to flee for their own endzone, scared of the incoming punishment. The Orc line pushes back, throwing the blitz away, then the Troll takes the Rat Ogre by the neck and head-butts them both into the floor. A few moments later, the Troll stands back up but the Rat Ogre stays down. Turns out that Trolls have harder heads than Rat Ogres. Complete KO.
The first half ends with a little up note and the Orc supporters dare to believe that their team might just come back in the second half, jeering the rats as their Ogre is dragged off the pitch by its tail.
Second half opens and Green 'n' Mean fans hold their breath as they watch the Skaven dugout, but the Rat Ogre does not reappear. The rats line up only ten versus a full complement of Orcs. Quietly, chastened by the beating they took in the first half, the Orcs buckle down and prepare to drive hard.
An almost perfect reception by Zan, he pushes up to his O-line and a free lineman and three of his Blitzers form a pocket around him. The substantially weakened Skaven D-line is immediately thrown to the floor, one seeing his life flash before his eyes before being recovered by the medics due to serious injuries and another KO just a moment later courtesy of the Troll (now pepped up on "just hit everything" instructions).
Enraged by the brutality, both Stormvermin smash straight into a leading Linesman, throwing him into a waiting foul by one of the dirtiest rats. The referee, no laggard, promptly sent the cheating scum from the field, but at the cost of a seriously wounded Orc. Diagnosis: broken jawbone. Prognosis: certainly missing the next match.
Unperturbed, Zan leads his pocket to the right, intent on running the ball home. Even down a man, without their Rat Ogre the Skaven cannot stand up to the might of angry Orcs looking for a fight.
With the Stormvermin as the vanguard, the remaining rats try to punch through. One Blitzer hits the floor, out cold, but the line holds and the ball pushes swiftly down the pitch without serious resistance. Just a pair of Gutter Runners between Zan and the endzone and really them just a paper defence against hardened Orc Blitzers. Even their agility helps them none as the pocket puts one to the floor as he tries to entangle Zan.
Another dives through the pocket, almost getting its filthy hands to the ball. Unstoppable, the pocket smashes the last ditch resistance, sending the unworthy Gutter Runner to the medical tent, and leads Zan right into the endzone, Skaven scattered and simply lacking the manpower to make a difference.
With nearly a quarter of the match to go, the Orcs hope to use their fighting power to get a second touchdown in the second half. Unfortunately, their losses are beginning to show. One still unconscious, one seriously wounded, needs must bring the reserve Goblin onto the pitch.
"Look, you, just bite dem in dere ankles, or summat." That was the advice that Zan bestowed on the over-eager reserve. "And you," he tells the Troll, "keep hittin' everythin' in front of ya."
Ten Orcs versus nine Skaven. Fair odds on a fair day, but this was anything but a fair day. The Skaven lined up in a flank-heavy configuration, ready to push one side, then pushed straight into the waiting D-line barely a second after the ball arced over the half way flags. Their push tears holes in both sides of the line and rats scuttle swiftly through, filling the backfield with waiting receivers.
Once again, the Orcs face an ineviable choice: gang up and fight, or spread out and mark. Clearly better at the first, but fearing a loss, Zan audibles for man-marking and his team responds quickly. Blitzers chase their targets, harassing them from downfield. Even the Goblin, Mugs, finds himself hanging onto the cloak of a speeding Gutter Runner. Only the Troll, now confused as the enemy is behind him, fails to take sensible action.
Realising that the rats' superior agility won't let his Orcs mark them for long, Zan throws himself at the Goblin-hampered Gutter Runner but misjudges the distance and lands them both on the floor. Dazed, he fails to see the glint of steel as a clanrat prompt stabs one of his Linemen through the eye, killing him instantly. The crowd screams for the referee but no card is forthcoming, no foul is professed. "Is just a block," the referee declares, but the Orc fans know better.
The rats jink left. The rats scuffle right. But the Orcs stick to them like crabs to testicles. One Stormvermin falls prey to a coordinated strike from a Blitzer and even the Troll manages to figure out that furry things equals stuff to hit, but the ball is a long way away and the Orcs are spread thin. A victory looks unlikely. Just need to hold out for the draw.
Then the rats pause. It's almost as though the fight has gone out of them. Down their Rat Ogre and a Stormvermin, undermanned and efficiently marked, they try to run the ball just because they can't see anything else to do.
Then they see their chance and the Skaven thrower streams down the pitch and hands off to the remaining Stormvermin. Tangled by the Goblin and an Orc Blitzer, he tries for a daring end-of-game push through the line. It's to no avail. The Blitzer puts him down just as the clock runs out.
Final score, 1-1, but with the Orcs weakened by a death and an injury for their next game it could be considered a morale victory for the Skaven. Orc commentators, though, would remark that it was a technical victory for the Orcs on account of neutralising the Skaven's speed and holding the game to a draw in the face of a heavy beating.
Battered, bruised, Green 'n' Mean needs to regroup and rethink to face their upcoming match against the Dwarves.
tl;dr
Stop being so lazy and go and read it.
That said, I don't think I can write another game summary of that length again. This one took nearly two hours!
