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Underworld BC - Wyrmwood

Discussion in 'Team Blogs' started by Werebat, Feb 23, 2014.

  1. Werebat

    Werebat Well-Known Member

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    Eugenia the Bog Hag heard the players squabbling long before she reached the door to the Wyrmwood clubhouse's main hall -- a half-hearted, weary-sounding brawl, fueled more by hopelessness than anger. She'd predicted as much. What with the team's failure to even tie any of the games it played last season, coupled with the collapse of the Big Crunch itself, the players' morale would have been at an all-time low even without the death of the legendary Gruechitter the Foul. Or the legendary Zeem Warpfire's resignation from the team in order to pursue a career as a freebooter.

    Or the treachery of Spider Swindlegrin.

    Her knobby fingers curled up at the thought of it, even as she reached for the twisted iron handle of the wooden clubhouse door, her black talons digging into her green palms in reflexive rage. It wasn't so much that he'd faked his own death -- and he'd done that remarkably well, she had to admit. It seemed that he was smarter than she had given him credit. No, it was that he'd had the gall to steal her vial of hagpox, right out of her own office! The former she could have forgiven with a sound thrashing and prompt reinstatement onto the team roster; the latter was an outrage! When she got her claws on that runty little git of a goblin...

    "Eh, Sis?" interrupted Gretchen from behind. "We doin' this, or wot?"

    Eugenia composed herself and glanced back at her sisters. Gretchen's piggish scowl of dull impatience contrasted with Aneira's cocked head and tight-lipped, almost girlish smile. The two sisters usually used glamers of one sort or another in the clubhouse, but had chosen to wear their true forms for this momentous occasion.

    Bringing up the rear was Gretchen's ogre, Groxx, hefting a very special cask of toadbrew.

    "Of course we're doing it!" she hissed under her breath. "Now shush, Sister, or ye'll tip our hand!"

    "Jus' sick o' waitin', is all," muttered Gretchen as she sank her fangs into the haunch of roast venison she carried. "It's been a long time comin', this 'as. Been pushin' fer it fer seasons, Oi 'ave." The obese hag spoke gutterally through mouthfuls of her snack, drops of greasy deer fat spattering out of her mouth.

    "Well, hush a bit more, Sister," whispered Aneira, fixing her inscrutable white-eyed gaze onto her much larger sibling. "Let Eugenia do the talking for now."

    Eugenia sighed. For once, wild-as-the-winds Aneira was talking sense. Thank the Dark One for small favors. She turned and opened the door.

    "Dearies!" she exclaimed, immediately putting a stop to the fracas. Blightfang and Vourk froze and dropped Grovel, who they had been stretching by the wrists and ankles, and Frang Toebiter stopped gnawing on Ferelan Foulfang's tail. Gorbo, who Garble had apparently let out, spat Churr out of his mouth and retreated back to his cage with a whimper. Snatcher, Wheezy, Bogger, and Wink pulled away from Skek Skulktunnels, who they had been beating on the flagstones, and the beleaguered skaven rose to a crouch and slinked over to his fellows, never once taking the beady black eyes of either of his heads off of the hag sisters.

    "What's the cause of all this mayhem, eh?" she asked with mock sweetness. "My sisters and I could hear you lads fighting from my office!"

    It was Bogger who answered, of course -- he was her favorite, after all, and feared her the least.

    "We're outta toadbrew," he said.

    "Well is that all, Dearies?" asked the Bog Hag with a look of chilling sympathy. "What a fine coincidence! We've brought you all a whole cask!"

    She motioned for Groxx to come forward, and the stoic ogre did as instructed, leaving the cask on the table before shuffling back behind his mistress.

    "Ah, ah, ah!" she cautioned, wagging a talon at the first of the players to reach the cask. "No drinks until I've given my announcement! This toadbrew is for celebration!"

    "Celebration?" asked Snatcher in puzzlement, scratching his head. "Wot fer? Der Big Crunch be dead an' done, aye?"

    Vourk's tail whipped from side to side as the other skaven twitched their whiskers quizically. "This be only-last batch of toadbrew, yes-yes?"

    "Such good questions!" laughed Eugenia, clapping her spidery hands together in delight. "And the answers are even better."

    She savored the moment, enjoying the look of bewilderment on each player's face. No doubt they had assumed that they'd be asked to clear out of the clubhouse in short order, and forced -- or allowed -- to return to whatever pathetic little lives they'd had before joining the team.

    And they might have been right, if she hadn't found Swindlegrin.

    Even after she'd managed to decipher Garble's rambling half-words, Spider had been infuriatingly difficult to track down. Perhaps the goblin freak had mutated again and grown a bigger brain to match his hand. She'd never managed to actually catch him, and once he'd figured out that she was on to him he had used intermediaries -- goblin fans of his who never seemed to know his exact location, as she'd learned through torturing three of them to death -- to broker a deal with her for the return of her precious hagpox.

    He'd demanded an exorbitant amount of money -- almost enough to found his own team -- which in the end she'd been forced to clean out the team treasury to pay. It was that or bargain with Festus the Leech Lord again -- and even the hag sisters preferred not to have to deal with him.

    And he'd never slipped up! Never made that fatal mistake of accidentally revealing his true location or allowing her or her sisters to sniff him out! She ground her crooked fangs momentarily as she thought of it. She wanted to wring the goblin's scrawny little neck then and there...

    But that would come later. No one hid from Eugenia forever. She would sniff him out eventually. And for now, there was business to attend to. She snapped out of her vengeful reverie, once again seeing the motley crew of expectant players from throughout the underworld.

    "There is another league, Dearies," she crooned.

    A grumbling murmur crept through the assembled players. "Big Crunch Two-Next?" chittered Ferelan incredulously. "They not allow-take transfer-teams; we already ask-check!"

    "Right you are, Dearie -- but you're forgetting that old Eugenia has a few tricks up her sleeve!"

    The players listened with interest at her words, sparks of hope and greed lighting in their widening eyes. They almost seemed to forget about the cask of toadbrew on the table.

    "We've just signed on with the Big Crunch Two, Dearies -- and we're bound for far-off Cathay! Now, drink up in celebration!"

    A raucous cheer rose up from the throats of the assembled goblins and skaven, as former combatants clapped each other on the backs with scabby hands and ragged claws. They turned as one to the cask of toadbrew, tapping it with haste.

    Eugenia and her sisters grinned unsettlingly as the players raised their glasses to their mouths. The cask would be drained within an hour -- but the hagpox would take at least a day to incubate. And then they'd see what sort of team they'd be bringing to the Big Crunch Two.
    Last edited: Mar 8, 2017
  2. Werebat

    Werebat Well-Known Member

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    Note from Werebat:

    How fitting that my last post started a new page in Wyrmwood's saga! If it isn't clear already, the remaining rats and goblins (and Gorbo) will be joining the BC2 as a rookie Nurgle team, with the skaven taking Pestigor roles as the little greenskins bloat up to rotters and warriors of Nurgle. Gorbo, of course, returns as a Beast of Nurgle -- with abilities surprisingly similar to those he already has (here's hoping he rolls doubles early on for Block!)

    I was on a fence about going Underworld or Nurgle way back when, and decided long ago that I would roll Nurgles in the BC2 whenever the original BC folded. So here we are! Looking forward to learning how to play a generally more powerful, but also much less mobile, team.

    And if I decide that Nurgle is not the team for me, well... Underworld is making it to BB2 pretty soon, and Spider did make off with a large amount of gold...
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  3. Werebat

    Werebat Well-Known Member

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    "It was a win, Sister," crooned Aneira in her most sympathetic chill rasp. "A win!"

    "Aye, an' wit' plenny o' carnage!" gobbled Gretchen as she feasted on the dead Wheezy Hoptoad's pestilent leg. Ordinarily, Wyrmwood's dead players were eaten by their teammates after the match, but these days their apetites were not what they used to be. Meanwhile, hags were immune to hagpox, and Gretchen's palate was indiscriminate at the best of times.

    "Y'sure ye wanna be savin' 'at biggun?" Gretchen asked between smacks and belches. She hungrily eyed Bogger Hagthrall's bloated corpse, which lay in repose on her sister's table.

    Aneira shot her obese sister a baleful look with her dead-white eyes, while Eugenia the Bog Hag simply continued to stare out the window of her hovel. Her green shoulders slumped.

    "Gretchen!" admonished Aneira. "Ye know old Bogger was her favorite! How would ye feel if the same were to happen to Groxx?"

    Blue Gretchen shrugged and licked Wheezy's blood and pus from her fingers. "Dere's allus anudder thrall, Sis," she said nonchalantly. "An' great shame in th' wastin' o' good meat!"

    "Sister, pay her no mind," consoled Aneira, speaking to Eugenia but continuing to fix Gretchen with her evil eyes. Gretchen ignored her and noisily ripped an arm off of the hagpoxed goblin's torso, sinking her crooked fangs deep into its corrupted flesh.

    "Leave me be, Sisters," said the Bog Hag wearily, never tearing her gaze from the window. "I wish for privacy."

    "As ye wish," snorted Gretchen, hefting what was left of Wheezy over her shoulder. She carelessly knocked a horned skull off one of her sister's many kitchen shelves as she waddled roughly out the door.

    Aneira paused to return the skull to its rightful place. Her weird senses told her that it had belonged to the skaven blitzer, Reeka Venomscratch.

    "Do take care, Sister," she said to Eugenia as she shuffled crookedly towards the door. She turned to face Eugenia for a moment before she left, but she could tell that her sister still stood sullenly with her back to her. She shook her head and crossed the threshold.

    When she was certain her sisters had left, the Bog Hag turned and gazed silently at Bogger.

    "Oh, Dearie," she sighed wistfully. "Sister is right -- ye were indeed my favorite."

    She stroked his greasy, pustuled forehead with a black claw. There was always another thrall, it was true, she thought to herself. But where would she find another like Bogger? So loyal, so tight-lipped. He had been her eyes and ears on the team for so long -- since before she'd taken over as coach! She'd used her powers on more than one occasion to heal a permanent injury, something she'd never have done for any other player. And he'd tolerated her kisses so stoically, never flinching. She'd almost been fond of him.

    It had all seemed to work so well at first -- the hagpox. The boys had taken a day or so to show any symptoms, and at first it had been easy to mislead them into thinking that their violent illness was the result of some rival's dirty trick. The skaven were paranoid enough to assume it on their own, and the goblins -- bless their black little hearts -- were almost to a man too stupid to believe anything other than what Bogger had insinuated. Only Bogger himself had known the truth from the start, and he had gone along with it because he had been loyal to his mistress. A rare trait in a goblin.

    Of course she'd have eaten him in a heartbeat if he had ever betrayed her, and he had known it. But he had been intelligent enough to avoid that consequence, and such restraint was a rare trait in a goblin, too.

    Despite her general preference for subtlety in a thrall -- in constrast to Gretchen, with her hulking ogre -- she had been pleased to see the wrack of hagpox work itself in a particularly extreme way on Bogger. The disease was a magical one, and tended to grant the afflicted with their deepest desires (after a fashion, and at great price). Unsurprisingly, the little goblins had all puffed up in size and strength until they had rivaled orcs in both departments, but Bogger and the rookie Wink Razormouth had grown to truly immense proportions, as large as black orcs!

    For their part, the skaven had all grown darker fur and horns -- marks of greatness and prestige according to the bizarre traditions of their kind. She wasn't really sure what Gorbo had wanted, but being a troll it was likely that he had sought satiety, and like the others he seemed much less hungry now; or at least less able to keep his food down. Of course there had been other drawbacks to the plague besides nausea and vomiting -- extra heads rendered blind from the constant flow of pus from their eyes, withered limbs, pain-wracked and in other ways inconvenienced bodies that would require a great deal of time to get used to, and more. Gorbo had lost his legs, although this meant that his smashed ankle was no longer the problem that it used to be. And the new blitzer, Blightfang of the Dark Spire, had succumbed completely to the disease, dying in a fit of spasmodic coughs a mere week after first getting sick.

    It was of no consequence. The team still had eleven members. Her ploy to get Wyrmwood into the new Big Crunch had worked -- although she was still irked that she'd had to change the team's name slightly, and increasingly regretted not breaking more completely from the past by simply changing it to "Hagpox". Especially now that Bogger was gone, the team just didn't feel the same.

    She frowned pensively as she continued to caress Bogger's dead face with her talons.

    "What now, Bogger Dearie? Only nine players left. What'll we do come next match day?"

    Bogger's dead face gazed wordlessly up at her through vacant, rheumy eyes.

    She sighed. Of course she knew, there was nothing for it but to find some more gullible goblins and expose them to hagpox. Knowing the deranged little greenskins, she might even find some who were willing to subject themselves to the disease.

    For now, though, there was the matter of Bogger's corpse. He couldn't just lay there on her kitchen table forever.

    She lightly scraped the festering skin of the dead goblin's face with her iron-hard nails as she thought. She could always bring him to her cousin Sycorax and have him reanimated as a zombie, but... No.

    Her eyes fell on her oven. Baking had always made her feel better. And Bogger had always been so good about helping her cook...

    Her frown slowly straightened to a thin, resolved line. Gretchen would be pleased, at least.

    Giving the goblin's blasted face one last little scratch, she reached with her other hand for her carving knife.

    "Help me one last time, will you, Dearie? I feel like making some nice meat pies..."
    Last edited: Mar 14, 2017
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  4. Werebat

    Werebat Well-Known Member

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    "Sister!" cried Aneira, happy to bring her sister some good news. She had been in a dark way -- darker than usual -- since Wyrmwood lost its last match, 2-0 no less, against the rookie Chaos team Nuffleheim Nightmare. It hadn't helped that one of the goblin rotters, Snatcher Greedwheedle, had been killed on the pitch. Despite Eugenia's claims, the hagpox didn't seem to have done much to improve the survivability of the little gits.

    "What is it, Aneira?" asked the Bog Hag, pinching the bridge of her warty green nose with spindly fingertips. It took care to keep her black talons out of her eyes.

    "Trashpicker! Garble Trashpicker! He's caught the hagpox!"

    "Wot's this? Oo' cares?" growled Gretchen from her chair in Eugenia's office. "Some gobbo got sick -- so what? An' dat runty Trashpicker be so bashed up 'e ain't never gonna be good fer nuttin' but th' stewpot. Come ta think on it -- why we ain't never eaten 'im up, eh, Sis? 'E can't even TALK!"

    "It's TrashPICK," corrected Eugenia, noting the mute ogre Groxx's impressive lack of reaction to his termagant mistress' words as he continued to fan her obese frame. "And that goblin has a rare talent for troll wrangling, as I've said before."

    "'E's still bustit up," shrugged Gretchen, stuffing another handful of toasted wasps into her maw. She cradled an enourmous bowl of the dead insects between her vast thighs, shielding them from the breeze of Groxx's fan with the fat of a bloated, blotchy indigo arm.

    "Not now," grinned Aneira with what might have passed for a twinkle in her dead-white eye. Despite the withered pinch and wrinkles of age, her face looked almost girlish in its giddiness. "He's HUGE!"

    "Huge? Huge muscled?" asked Eugenia, her curiosity piqued.

    "He's swollen up as big as Wink Razormouth!" tittered Aneira, clapping her knobby white hands like a child.

    "As big as Bogger got?" asked Gretchen. "Say, y'got any more o' dem meat pies, Sis?"

    Aneira managed to shoot her indelicate sister a nasty look, despite her lack of visible pupils.

    "Oi'm jus' sayin'," grumbled Gretchen. "Dem were good meat pies, dey was."

    "As big as Bogger got?" asked Eugenia. She still missed her thrall, but if he could be replaced on the team...

    "Oh -- eh, yes, Sister," reassured Aneira.

    "A right proper bruiser, den!" whooped Gretchen. "Too bad 'e's krumped up so bad."

    "Not necessarily," mused the Bog Hag, stroking the warty point of her chin. She wondered just how Garble had gotten infected when hagpox spread primarily through ingestion and blood to blood contact. What had he been doing with Gorbo?

    She decided she'd prefer not to know -- goblins were filthy little things, even to a bog hag.

    "I mean, it's not like any of the goblins who really bulked up had much in the way of agility, is it?" she continued. "Perhaps our Garble's broken neck will be less of a liability if he's strong as a bull centaur!"

    "An' 'is bustit ankle?" asked Gretchen, snarfing down another mound of wasps. "What about dat, aye?"

    "Sister," soothed Eugenia kindly, "Surely even you have noticed that the ravages of hagpox have slowed the entire team down? If Garble can serve as a wall of flesh, then that should be enough."

    "Oh, he can! That he can!" cackled Aneira. "He'll be so excited to be back on the pitch with Gorbo!" She'd left the diseased goblin face down in a pool of his own sick.

    "We oughter scrounge up some more gobbers an' infect 'em," drawled Gretchen. She let loose a long belch before continuing her thought. "See if any o' dem bulk up too."

    "Indeed," agreed the Bog Hag, calculating. In retrospect, she thought that it was a pity she'd let Wirt Nosebender and Squighead go before infecting the rest of the team; but money had been tight after dealing with Spider's treachery, and she'd reasoned that a hagpoxxed Wyrmwood would be able to get by without an apothecary.

    Still -- there were always other goblins. Always plenty of them.

    "Aneira," she said. "Let's put word out to the night goblins. Tell them we're interested in hiring on some new team members. Tell them -- tell them we'll give a free bottle of toadbrew to any who show up to apply."

    "Oi! We'll be swamped wit' th' lil' buggers!" squawked Gretchen.

    "We'll only hire the ones who get really big," said Eugenia, an evil twinkle in her black eyes.

    "An' th' rest o' 'em?" challenged her massive sibling. "Th' ones what we don't hire'll be makin' a nuisance -- gettin' inna way, nickin' anythin' what ain't nailed down..."

    "They'll be infected, of course," clarified Eugenia. "I'd thought that was obvious."

    "Pukin' an' worse, den," grumbled Gretchen.

    "Well, Sister," said Eugenia with a smirk, "You did say you liked those meat pies, didn't you?"

    It took Gretchen a moment to get it, but Aneira's wild and gap-toothed grin finally clued her in. She snorted. She guffawed. She choked and coughed momentarily, clearing wasps from her windpipe.

    "Wewl done, Sis," she approved. "Wewl done!"
    Last edited: Mar 19, 2017 at 8:28 PM