Our lads were ready to rumble from the first whistle. Young Waltgar “Sweatiness” Slaydun ended our first drive with a proper shove into the endzone—just as it ought to be. I’d barely poured my celebratory ale when the blasted Elves started their “performance.” They call it a “dance”, but I swear they were using it to trip our lads up with foul footwork disguised as flair.

Every time one of ours made a push—bam!—face first into the turf. Feet skiddin’, knees bucklin’, pride shatterin’ trickery. They’d twirl and spin, and our boys would be sprawled like drunk goblins at Shroomtide. And the refs were blind as a cave bat, or worse—fans of the arts!

But all is not lost…. Jorgrim "Mad Mak" Makmann, our Slayer with more scars than brains, studied their prancing. Said you have to watch their legs, not their faces. Claims he’s learned how they twist, pivot, and skip. Says next match, he’ll dance them right into the pitch. I’ve never seen a Slayer pirouette before, but if it ends with his fists using an Elf’s ribs as a xylophone, I’m all for it.

Still, this one stings. We walk away with bruises and 35,000 in silver (not bad), but no new fans, no real glory—just grudges. And so, into the Manuscript of Malice & Mayhem, I carve it:

Grudge #776: Warlords of the Dance

For tripping, twirling, and twisting their way into false victory. Vengeance shall come in the form of boots, beards, and broken bones.

Next time, we’ll bring steel toes and stone resolve. And if Mak’s “dance” lessons work, we may just waltz over their poncy corpses.

— Coach-Thane Gorge Malice, Wielder of the Grudge Quill

Preseason - Zargrim Maulers vs Warlords of the Dance

The wood elves woke up one day and found they were actually a bunch of foxes (I guess?), so they decided to go play some backyard ball with a bunch of guys that resembled teapots (short and stout). It went quite well as the short ones couldn't keep up with the foxy dancers. They resembled a dog chasing a treat by running one way and then another chasing the ball around, never quite catching up to it. Quote cute, in a teapot sort of way.

The dance of the elves did not get violent aside from a few bruises. It did allow the foxy maiden, Mairéad, to get to the endzone twice. One with a quick answer to the touchdown scored by the least stout of the shorties, and another late in the second half. Delays by the stoutness of the stout ones made that touchdown take longer than the foxy dancing legs desired, so there wasn't enough time to answer back apart from a nearly impossible gambit involving multiple dodges from a not-so dodgy dodger. That failed, and the game ended 2-1 Warlords.

Preseason - Bear Hurlers 1 - Warlords of the Dance 3

There were animals everywhere as the foxy dancers faced down the funny looking bear thing and the funny looking ape thing that throws him. There must have been something in the watering hole because these teams threw themselves at each other with reckless abandon. And it was truly reckless. Early in the match, Kyle and Orla ran into each other and both ended up on their backs needing a week to recover.

A pair of Warlord touchdowns were separated by a spectacular bear-through-the-air as Mr. Kitty clutches the ball while landing and scampering into the end zone.

The second half was less eventful with only a single touchdown by an ordinary fox lineman. No one quite remembers why he even had the ball.

After the match, the team was approached by the coach of the Athelorn Shadows, a professional team. He was so impressed by the shadowing skills of Colin, that he offered him a full time position on the team. On his way out the door, a few of the Warlords had a hard time keeping a straight face as they pretended to be sorry he was leaving.

Preseason - Downtown Drow 2 - Warlords of the Dance 2

A nearly mirror-match between the goth elves vs the something-that-dwells-in-the-forest. Agility was the name of the game as both teams had no trouble picking up the ball, dodging, and handing off.

The Warlords started with the ball and quickly opened a path and sent Mairéad into the endzone. The Downtowners made a similar play with their possession, but the runner was weighed down by his armor and couldn't quite cover the distance to the end zone. A Wardancer broke free from the line of scrimmage to chase him down, but instead of clutching the ball, he spiked it into the ground. The Warlords scooped it up and attempted a pass back to the waiting catcher at midfield. Unfortunately, the thrower didn't see Pierce standing in coverage. Pierce leapt up in a way no non-elf could, deflected the ball, and then caught it upon landing. He got the ball into Circe's hands and the Downtowners answered back just before halftime.

Oddly, the sun set and the game was paused until morning. Why weren't we watching the clock?

The second half started with the Drow receiving the ball. After punching through the line, they almost made it to the endzone. Unfortunately, the runner pulled a muscle and fell down just short of the endzone. The rowdy crowd threw the ball across the field past the other side, who then threw it back to the middle of the field. The Warlords scooped it up and carried it to the endzone.

With the clock ticking down, the Drow responded by crossing midfield with the ball, only to be stopped by a wall of fox. They knocked one down and then the ball carrier dodged (4 times) his way through the line and into the endzone to tie it up.

Preseason -- Green Play Slackers vs. Warlords of the Dance:

The magical feed wobbles as the crews attempt to get closer to the locker room of the Slackers' junior team. From behind the Green and Gold painted doors, excited murmuring can be heard. A wizard from off screen mutters, and the muffled sounds become a little clearer.

'Boyz, dat wuz a helluva win out dere t'day. A helluva win. I ain't bin prouda uv a good showin likes yuz been doin sinz I was throwin' blocks myself.'

There is a moment of muffled cheers before a small voice can be heard from the back.

'But da elves scored more touchdowns...'

Before another word can be spoken there is a loud slam against the locker room door.

'The next git that finks touchdowns matter more den dead elves is gonna join 'em on da pyre fer burnin' da ded. We winnin dis 'ere league in da only stat dat matters. Ain't nobody deadlier den Green Play. Now... Whooz next...'

Preseason - Rascals vs the Bear Hurlers:

“We ain’t never ‘ad upstairs neighbours at the Warren, right? No matter ‘ow much we bashed on the dirt ceilin’, they wouldn’t pipe down. So in the end, a few of us popped up to see what all the racket was about. And blimey, we wasn’t ready for what we saw.

Buncha nutters, runnin’ into each uvver, scramblin’ over some shrivelled-up pig’s gut, covered in spikes, no less. An’ it was proper bloody. Even the ones standin’ ‘round watchin’ were soaked in it.

Didn’t reckon they’d shift if we asked all polite-like, and there were too many of ‘em for even the Warren lot to shove out. We tried diggin’ holes for ‘em to fall through, right? But that didn’t slow ‘em. They just made up some daft rules around it.

Movin’ the fam ain’t just pickin’ up and leavin’, is it? We needed land. Coin. Turns out, the trapdoors kept chuckin’ us bits o’ their armour. Good stuff too — once we pried it off the poor sods. Sold what we could. Still weren’t enough.

So we thought — screw it. If ya can’t beat the nutters, join the bloody brawl. Learned the game.

Then we twigged it: we clocked that everyone else’s playin’ on a flat pitch, yeah? All shovin’ and bashin’. Everyone else’s muckin’ about on a flat pitch, right? But why bash through a defender when you can just hop over the muppet?

Course, we thought we was the only ones usin’ the sky ‘til we went up against the Bear Hurlers. And they only went and lobbed a bleedin’ halfling over us. Didn’t see that comin’. Still, I reckon this league ain’t got the foggiest on ‘ow to deal with us.”

—Jack Grabbit, Rascals catcher

Week 1 - Green Play Slackers Fresh Meat 0 - Warlords of the Dance 2

It was a strange match between the goblins and wood elves. For the kickoff, both teams took the field. All of both teams.

The foxy elves moved the ball to midfield. Squigante Aderns penetrated the screen and ended in the middle of a group of foxes. They pounced on him, knocking him down and then surrounded him. Conor moved in to drop a pointy elbow on him, but missed completely and drew the attention of the ref (rolling double 1's). The coach argued, but was tossed out along with Conor.

A goblin took a fox fist to the face and ended up injured. When scanning the sidelines for his replacement, no spare goblins could be found. After consulting the ref, they determined that 8 players had been fielded. A troll was selected to pay the penalty, but the coach of the slackers tried to argue, then tried to bribe the ref. None of it worked and the troll was ejected.

After all of the referee action, Éabha scored a touchdown.

In the second half, Éabha used her tackling skills to take down Gravy Belwig. In response, the remaining troll, Bart Fiver walked over and hit Éabha so hard that she didn't get back up (like ever again).

With a cloud over the head of the foxy elves, they walked around the remaining goblins and scored a second touchdown, essentially ending the game.

Week 1 - Entry #401 – “Blunders, Brawls, and the Peanut Punch”

Opponent: Altdorf Knightmares
Result: Zargrim Maulers 1 – 1 Knightmares
Date: Week 1, Season of Stonefall
Weather: Fair skies, foul tempers

⸻

The campaign began under fine skies, but it didn’t stay clean for long.

We opened with steel in our boots and fire in our bellies—BLITZ! Rikkard “The Colonel” Durnt surged forward like a cannonball in a beard, completing the secret rite of "Going Alone." A fine start… for once.

But the manlings struck first. Their soft-arm’d thrower, Thad Hennington, lobbed a fair ball to Blaine Brecht, who danced into the endzone on Turn 3. A disgrace, but not unexpected from slippery southerners.

Justice came swiftly. Hennington had the nerve to complain about a missed call, then took a swing at the ref—Sent Off! I commend the lad’s spirit, but his skull’s clearly soft.

The match turned into a proper grind from there. On Turn 5, we felled one of their linemen mid-dodge with a well-timed shove — “Not So Fast!” -- They’ll remember that lesson next time they try to prance through a pocket.

But then… our boys blundered.

Dikthar “The Enforcer” Butkush chose a frenzy of violence when he should’ve chosen brains. He went in for a clearing block, blind to poor Waltgar “Sweatiness” Slaydun desperately trying to hand him the ball with seconds left. The handoff dropped. Half over. I carved that mistake into the stone twice.

The second half brought blood and brilliance. On Turn 8, Thorek “Fridgidfist” Perrin went for a stomp and got caught—Sent Off. Good effort, poor timing. The lad's too large to get away with much.

Then came the crowd favorite: Kalrik “Peanut” Tillmund. On Turn 10, he unleashed a brutal “Peanut Punch”, knocking out a Knightmare. The next turn? He tried again—this time, the ref saw it. Sent Off!, but worth it. Fouling was part of the game plan today, and they gave it their best! “Fouling Frenzy” rite completed with honor.

As the clock wound down few Knightmares were left to defend. Some Ejected, some Knocked Out, and a couple shoved into the stands to be pummeled by the Mauler "Madmen," our boisterous fan club. Slaydun redeemed himself streaking down a sideline cleared by his team-mates and scored the equalizer. 1–1. Not a win, but we denied theirs.

⸻

Post-Match Notes:

Waltgar “Sweatiness” Slaydun earned himself a new trick: On The Ball. Can’t trust his team to help—least of all Butkush—so now he’ll do it all himself.
Knightmares’ Lineman Devin Mawae picked up Dauntless. Probably inspired by our Slayers' relentless onslaught. Understandable.
Winnings: 45,000 copper each. Enough for ale, not enough for pride.

⸻

Grudge #781 – Knightmares

For scoring first, being too tall, and dodging defeat by a thread. Retaliation will come on swift, stout, sturdy legs.

— Gorge Malice, Coach-Thane
Wielder of the Grudge Quill
Bearer of the Manuscript of Malice

Week 1 - Rascals 2-0 win over the Blitztown Blahs

“Summat was off with the Blahs, no mistake. We thought they’d come at us like they wanted to rip us apart — that’s the game, innit? But this lot… they looked at us like we was meat. Raw, twitchin’, ready-for-the-pot meat. And worse — they was givin’ the same look to their own mates!

“Well, some of ‘em, anyway. The others looked like they’d crawled outta a grave. Starvin’, dry as bones, like they’d forgotten what food or water even was. Sick-lookin’. But they still came swingin’. Eyes dead, or scared — couldn’t tell which.

“Then there’s Kit. Some’ow she finds a blade at kickoff — don’t ask me ‘ow — and starts wavin’ it round like it’s part of the uniform. Wouldn’t stop goin’ for blokes with it. Proper gremlin, that one. Didn’t think she ‘ad it in ‘er.

“She sticks one o’ the fresher-lookin’ Blahs right in the leg. Deep, nasty jab — bone showin’ and all. Shoulda been pourin’ blood, but there’s barely a drop. Creepy. And wouldn’t ya know it, that poor sod’s back on the field next drive, like nothin’ ‘appened.

“So yeah, we took the knife off Kit. Even after she bagged a tuddie. She weren’t pleased. Gave us that look — y’know, the one. She’s a little nutter. Fingers crossed she don’t come for us next.”

—Jack Grabbit

Week 2 - Entry #402 – The Surf, the Sack, & the Stolen Star

Match Result: Zargrim Maulers vs. Da Ekrund Krumperz — 1 – 1 Draw
Weather: Clear Skies, Foul Tempers

⸻

The match opened with clear skies & clenched fists. We won the coin toss & the ancestors saw fit to grant us a bit o’ extra coaching brilliance—fine start, I thought. Krumperz had the ball first, but they weren’t ready for what came next.

Dikthar “The Enforcer” Butkush, beard full of fury, tossed one of their Blitzers into the crowd like yesterday’s offal. The fans were thrilled, & I could hear the bones crunch from the sideline. That’s when I knew—today was a Butkush kind o’ day.

Moments later, their puffed-up thrower, some greasy git called Aggiz, tried to make something happen. Butkush hit him so hard I’m surprised the Orc’s teeth didn’t fly out of his coach’s mouth! Ball loose. Secret grudgework fulfilled. Honor upheld.

One of their lugs, Rorlur, managed to scoop it up & made a mad dash for the endzone. Didn’t get far—tripped on his own feet like a half-blind halfling. Slaydun charged in to capitalize, but got tangled up in an Orc’s leg & hit the turf like a loaf of stonebread.

By the time they were untangled, Rorlur had wriggled free & punched it in. Spittle in the beard, that was. To make matters worse, Dandrik “Danimal” Hamdrin caught a red mist & tried to bury his boot in a Krumperz ribcage—right in front of the ref. Fool got himself tossed. Still, hard to fault a lad for following his heart.

Then came the second half—& the Mauling began.

We took the field like a forge team on ale night—angry, methodical, & eager to break things. Butkush again—smashed one of their Blitzers into the injury box, left him just “badly hurt,” though I’d have preferred “mildly dead.”

Makmann flattened Aggiz a second time, & Karlrik “Peanut” Tillmund gave him the old Peanut Punch while he was down. The ref was too busy looking the wrong way—or thought he deserved it. Good on 'im

By the final minutes, the pitch was a garden of Greenskin ruin. They were scattered, stunned, & smothered under boots & beards. With the field clear & no Orc upright enough to be a threat, Waltgar “Sweatiness” Slaydun calmly walked it in, ball held high. Beard flowing. Beautiful. Like watching a steam hiss off hot forge-tongs.

Winnings: 40,000 silver for both sides. Barely enough to patch the turf.

Rickard “The Colonel” Durnt has left us—off to play for a so-called “professional” Dwarf team, the Stonehold Stoutbeards, with a bigger vault & softer hands. We’ll receive 20K in scouting fees, but we’re still down a veteran & up a grudge.

⸻

 And so I carve it:

Grudge #790 – Da Ekrund Krumperz

For scoring, stumbling into luck, & playing so poorly one of ours got poached.

Next time we play, they won’t have “teef” left to choke on.

– Gorge Malice
Coach-Thane of the Maulers 
Wielder of the Grudge Quill
Bearer of the Manuscript of Malice

Week 2 - Suspicious Slackers?

Off in a dank, dark, oft unused by those of any kind of moral fiber place, where only the seething underbelly of society would choose to tread in order to slake their thirsts as only they who have completely forsaken their humanity to give in to their deepest, darkest, most base desires, instincts, and whims reside... (You know, under the bleachers...) Zlurpus can be seen rubbing his hands together with glee.

"Yes... Yes... Dey still ain't gots no ideas uf da terror we dun unleashed upon dem, my boy. An dey ain't gonna know, neiver. You just keep doin' wat you doin', an I gonna make sure ain't a one of dem sods realize you playin in both leagues...."

He hands over a small brown sack cloth that clinks from the coins inside to none other than fan favorite Bob Squigkoski.

"You juss keep bashin' dem folks when they down, and scorin' dem touchdowns, and ain't nobody gonna be the wizer. Dey ain't no clue which a us greenskins is which. An as long as you keep throwin' elbows and scorin' points, dey ain't gonna care!"

The famed mohawked goblin opens the bag and peeks inside. "Dat's all gud fer you. But I get kicked out, it gunna be yer head I krumpin in next. I don' care wut kinda sponser dealz yuz got wiff Zlurpee." He gives a toothy smile to the coach. "Juss remember... Wen I win you da trophy, it comes home wiff me after yer fancy party..."

Week 2 - Warlords of the Dance vs Bear Hurlers -- After Action "Press Conference"

The Warlords were approached by a group of local kids pretending to be reporters. Excited that they were getting any publicity at all for such an amateur league, the Warlords gave them their attention.

"What was your favorite part of the match?" a sandy haired boy asked while picking his nose.

Fergus: "Thank ye for such an astute question, laddie. It would have to be the dance into the endzone."

"Do you like playing?" asked a little girl.

Cathal: "Why what a great question from such a good li'l reporter! Yes, of course, tho I didn't get a chance to try to clobber that big stinky ogre."

"What's your favorite color?" asked the eager reporter-to-be.

Hayley: "Ummm...green? Maybe we should talk about the match? Poor Kenny never got to score, though we were all rootin' for the wee lad. He almost landed near the endzone, but I think he was distracted by Macaulay."

"Are you guys still foxes?" asked another boy.

Mairéad: "We just don't know anymore. Maybe we'll be elves again next week."

"How many hairs do you have?" "What do you eat?" "Do you like boogers?" The children couldn't ask a question without being interrupted by someone else as they all clamored for attention.

Fergus: "Maybe we should head to the locker room..."

Week 2 - Last entry of Jack Grabbit as catcher for the Rascals, post-game 2 against the Tiranoc Sunstriders

“I dunno where Kit keeps nickin’ these bleedin’ knives from, but she whipped out another one this game. Mad doe’s got a stash somewhere, I swear. Only this time, the elf she went for weren’t havin’ it — turned the blade right back on her. Gave her a proper slashin’. Nasty one. Maybe now she’ll pack it in. She’s gonna be sittin’ out the next match anyway, patchin’ herself up. Bit o’ time to think, eh?

Now Joey — well, he might’ve taken the whole payback thing a bit far. Went after that elf like a runaway cart and thumped her so hard, she didn’t get back up. Dead, they said. They always say elves are fragile, but this lot looked pretty solid. Still, our Angeroo’s got a mean swing on ‘im, turns out.

Anyway, looks like this was my last run with the Rascals. Scout spotted me bag another touch and offered real coin to play for an 11s side. That’s good money, good enough to send back to the Warren. And let’s be honest — I ain’t the only one puttin’ points on the board. Binky’s scored twice now, and even Kit — mad little blade-happy witch that she is — has got one in.

The Rascals’ll be alright. Tough lot. But I’ll miss ‘em. Every single nutter.”

-Jack Grabbit

Week 3 -- Match Report: Warlords of the Dance 2 - Big Biggin' Bashas 0

Pro Scouts were in attendance at this amateur match, and they were not disappointed.

Scout 1: "I have seen a lot of wood elves hold the line in my days, but none as well as Cathal. He went toe to toe with a Troll and several Black Orcs and didn't back down. Downright dauntless, he was. I have got to get him to play for the Athelorn Twinkletoes. They could really use his grit."

Scout 2: "I'm offering a contract to Orla. She fearlessly held her ground next to the senseless mob on the sidelines and didn't give an inch. She's just what we need for the Lothern Prancing Dandies."

Scout 3: "Arry is the goblin who really impressed me. He selflessly dove at the feet of any elf in range, trying to trip them up. He almost stopped that last minute touchdown at the end. I'm pulling him up to the Bad Moon Bad Mooners. He'll fill a key role there."

Scout 4: "It's a shame the Fergus spent most of the match knocked out. I really wanted to see his dance moves. Also, that crazy goblin Arminey had potential. I've never seen a goblin with such reflexes. I was ready to recruit her until I found out she'd been juicing and actually passed out for the rest of the match. Real shame.

Week 3 - Manuscript of Malice and Mayhem Entry #403 – “Rain, Rot, and Righteous Violence”

Result: Zargrim Maulers 1 – 0 Eldritch Earwigs
Weather: Pouring Rain (the kind that ruins beards and ball-handling alike)
Attendance: 700 soaked souls

⸻

Rain fell like the mountains themselves were sobbing. Ball felt like greased troll spawn. That didn’t matter--Dwarves take to mud like badgers in a bar fight.

The Earwigs got the ball first, their rotten wolves lunging early. One slammed Waltgar "Sweatiness" Slaydun into the mud, but he got up—he always does and that's why the fans love him. Dandrik "Danimal" Hamdrin tried to stomp a zombie flat, but the blasted thing wriggled back together. Undead. Hmph.

We turned back their advance and took the ball. Slaydun had a clean shot at the end zone but slipped—face-first in the muck. Scoreless at the half.

A little mud in our halftime ale did us good."Mad Mak" Makmann folded a corpse. Again, it reassembled. Slaydun made another dash, hoping to please Nuffle—and tripped again. At this point, I swore in Khazalid AND Reikspiel.

Then the ghoul tried to capitalize. Ditkar Butkush wasn't having it though and "The Enforcer" lowered his shoulder, sending the ball flying. Slaydun scooped it back up and stormed into the end zone, 1–0.

They made one last push—both werewolves on the flank—but they met boots and beards. Down they went. Game sealed.

⸻

MVPs: Thorek “Fridgidfist” Perrin, finally earning his name with Guard. Some corpse named Amber Lynn got Wrestle. Let her try.

⸻

So I carve it:

Grudge #796 – Eldritch Earwigs  
For refusing to stay dead, fouling up the field, and making us earn a win through swamp water and curses. Next time, we bring fire. Can't regenerate ashes.

⸻

New Arrival: “Samurai” Mik Stengaltari joins the roster. Built like a vault door. Silent. Unshaken. He hasn’t played yet—but the lads already stand straighter when he passes. I've got a good feeling about this...

– Gorge Malice
Coach of the Zargrim Maulers
Quill-Bearer of Spite

Week 3 - Rascals post-game

“Kit weren’t fit t’play this week, but y’know what she’s like — can’t stay away from the pitch for five minutes. So really, we shouldn’t’ve been surprised when a fireball came shootin’ out the infirmary. But we were. Proper stunned. Especially Lola.

She’s been off her head since Game Two — even madder than Kit, and that’s sayin’ somethin’. She looked like she was gonna devour the poor lad with the ball, full-on rabid. That’s probably why she didn’t clock the fireball ‘til it flew past her shoulder and smacked him square in the chest. Didn’t even knock him down, somehow — but the blast sent her flyin’ right back into the infirmary, straight to Kit.”

“I had a word with Lola after the match, while she was still laid up. She goes, ‘I thought that fear in his eyes was ‘cause of me — til I felt the heat.’ But by then it was too late, wasn’t it? And she weren’t even angry. Just said she was proud of Kit, like — said she showed guts. Kit said she found some mad scroll wanderin’ round the stands before kick-off. Forgot she’d need to actually aim it, though.”

-Binky Burrows, Catcher

Week 4 - Match Report: Warlords of the Dance 4 - Downtown Drow 0

This is the story not of a match, but of the insane fans who come to watch. Before the match began, various green haired and skinned forest creatures could be seen congregating. Treemen, dryads, pixies, and of course wood elves were all getting ready for the game. Before the match, some fans took the unsuspecting T'Frae out for drinks and made sure he had a few too many - causing him to miss the entire first drive. [Desperate Measures - Hangover inducement] The players were all ready for the first kick when some overzealous fans ran onto the pitch and stunned 3 of the 6 Drow players on the field. With little to stop them, the Warlords took the ball in and gave the Downtown Drow a much needed reset. Another kick, another pitch invasion as yet another rambunctious fan takes out a Drow. It's as if they have some deep rooted hatred for their long lost kin from the north.

The fans must put something in the water keg on the Drow sideline because they suddenly stopped being the agile Drow we have come to expect. Every possession seemed to highlight their unusual inability to dodge or block. The game went poorly for them, leading to multiple turnovers. It's going to take some strong elf spirit to bounce back from this one.

We should take a moment to recognize the sacrifice of Adele T'Member. Hayle Westenra threw a block into Adele that ended up being the last thing Adele ever saw. We salute your sacrifice for our amusement.

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