Coach had run them through a few warm-ups on the pitch and, in the dressing room, talked them all through a few plays. Then, he put down his huge notepad, and went down on one knee.
"Guys, this is a big moment for me. We only started the Renegades this year. I never expected things to happen so quickly for us. Getting to a semi-final in our debut season is beyond my wildest dreams. But today is not a big day for any of you." He looked at each of them - the starting eleven and the five replacements who would begin on the bench. "It might feel like this is an important game but in two, five, ten years' time, today will mean very little to you. That's because there will be more semi-finals, more finals, more big games, bigger games than this. You all have so much potential that this is only a stepping stone to where you could end up playing. So, relax, play how we always play, try your hardest, and don't worry about the bounce of the ball, just be better than your opposite number. Ok? Greta, who are we?"
"Renegades, coach."
"Benni?"
"Renegades, coach." Hertzbruch stopped, stood, and clapped his palms together.
"Who are we?"
The room erupted with the chant they had repeated before every game all-season.
"Renegades! Renegades! Renegades!"
Hertzbruch held the door open and sixteen armour-clad teenagers as near as possible flat-out sprinted out of the door, up the white-washed steps, out into the revealing daylight, and onto the pitch the green turf which would measure their efforts and skills and decide if they would depart from it with pride or with guilt.
The Rottfurt side took the idea of nominative determinism to new levels. Abdullah, the young Araby lineman, took the kickoff and had barely made contact with the ball before a Rams blitzer dropped his shoulders and spear-tackled Abdullah in the stomach with his helmet first. 'Abby' was sent flying, the wind knocked out of him, and the Renegades ordered to retake the kick and the offending Rams player received a time-out on the bench until the next break in play. Sasha Reinhardt took Abdullah's place and was only just able to evade the same fate. She palmed off the second Rams blitzer into the direction of Lucas Kim, who, checking first that the referee was watching where the ball was going to land, delivered a solid knee to the groin and, as the Rottfurt player crumpled, followed up with an elbow to the head.
The home team's bench leapt as one to protest but the coach, Damon Vellum, just gave a rye smirk of appreciation. The offending player gave a loud bleat and then blacked out. Lucas glanced back and suddenly realised that the Rams were not wearing elaborately fashioned helmets but had simply painted their scalps red and those horns grew from their beastman skulls.
His gaze followed the direction from where the now concussed Clovis Khnum had charged from and saw a horde of fellow beastmen - or perhaps beastboys? Lambmen? - charging hoof before hoof directly at the row of Sasha, Greta, and Conrad. Lucas knew the only option he had was to try to protect the team if he was to give them any chance of winning. Somehow, he had to stop the horde wiping out three players at once. In a flash, he had an idea.
Benni was already focused on the ball. It had been snatched up by a player called Paschal Darr, who was trying for a Rottfurt season record for distance carrying the ball. Benni's spying told him that, if Rottfurt received, he would be the player most likely to try to pick up the ball and charge through their lines.
Moritz was on the other side of the field to Benni, racing down the left flank. He was far away from the dugouts and any further coaching advice, but Benni told him all he needed to know. He made sure to wave his hands wildly in the air, as if signalling. The Rams wide receiver, Baamu Hershef, was not an intelligent teammate and Benni told Moritz that the home team's coach had had to tell him off more than once during their training session to stop chewing the astroturf.
The wild gesturing made Hershef turn his head and, instead of running into an area which would be ideal for receiving a thrown pass or could force the Renegades to defend deep, he began to chase down Moritz.
Now, Schrunk knew beastmen were fast, but he bet none of them could manoeuvre like he could and he set course for the two piebald players with menacing yellow eyes who formed up in front of the ball carrier.
Lucas tugged and pulled as if his life depended on it. He saw the Rottfurt wide receiver heading his way at speed. With an almighty yank, he succeeded in tearing the red Rams shirt from the comatose Khnum. It was torn in half which would work better than an intact jersey. Lucas waved it above his head like a flag and ran a covering run around the back of the Renegades defence and off of the pitch completely.
When Lucas and his flag appeared from behind Conrad, Greta, and Sasha, the charging players turned and looked. All they saw was the bright red rag waving and flapping. They turned as one, swivelling towards their new target.
Paschal Darr was making ground and, if Benni didn't stop him, he would get into their half and make up a lot of ground before the Renegades could reorganise. He now had two bodyguards who would flatten Benni before he could tackle Darr. And if their frontline of blockers knocked out the wall of Renegades players, then the Rams would surely take an early lead.
Baamu Hershef was only thinking about being a hero. If he could wipe out this human catcher with a swift arm bar to the neck, he would no longer be an option for their thrower to get the ball to. And he might even force a fumble if the ball was thrown. Or he might be the first Rams player to ever make an interception. He, Baamu of the Hershef herd, would be a legend. A 'barn of famer'. He chuckled at that joke. He had always been the funny one in his flock. Baamu was always saying things which made others laugh. If Blood Bowl didn't work out, maybe he could try writing some comedy, perhaps do some stand-up. Chaos worshippers are not all blood sacrifices and village pillaging; they needed a way to relax, to blow off some steam. There might be a growing comedy circuit in the towns in the northern Chaos wastes. Maybe even Naggaroth. Maybe that was too much. You wouldn't want to offend a witch elf as she could rip your still beating heart out before you could say...
Lucas timed his run perfectly. At almost the last possible moment, the players who were bearing down on the Renegades defensive line, saw Lucas appear as if out of nowhere. Lucas crossed the side line, level with the two huge blockers. Their eyes were locked on to the flapping red shirt; nothing else mattered and nothing would distract them.
The beastmen were anticipating a hit from the front. One or more of these little human babies might just be foolish enough to try to push them out of the way. Even if they fell, they felt that they would take three or four of the humans down with them, leaving the path clear for Darr to sprint home. And if that happened it would be double feed for dinner.
What they didn't anticipate was an impact from the side. They failed to see Moritz running at them as their peripheral vision was limited at best. They also failed to see Moritz swerve away from them just when it seemed more likely that he would try to tackle them. That meant that they were truly shocked to be met with the dipped horns of Baamu Hershef, whose place in the team had been assured because of his power rather than his ability to carry out plays any more complex than 'hit the little guy'.
Lucas knew that this would be a selfless act, but he had seen Benni do it and Moritz do it in past games and receive praise from Mr Hertzbruch, so maybe it was his turn. He could never quite have known just how painful being selfless truly is.
The two beastmen hit Kim above and below the waist and drove him and themselves into the entire Rottfurt Rams bench. The replacements, apothecary, veterinarian, kit man, waterboy, and weather mage were all buried, along with Kim and both of the Rams players, under a mountain of wood and sporting goods. Clouds of dust billowed from the touchline. The home crowd gasped and then murmured urgently. They saw what was coming next.
Three gasping and writhing Rams players were in a heap in front of Sasha, Greta, and Conrad. The three Renegades players jumped over the bovine bundle and ran straight towards the unprotected Darr.
Benedikt got to him first with a waist high tackle. Greta Schnecke used all of the power in her forearm to hit Darr in the throat. He immediately let go of the ball to protect himself and Conrad Popaj snapped it up in mid-air and threw a short pass to Moritz, who remained unmarked behind all the carnage. The grappling ruminants succeeded in yanking their opponents down into a ground-level scuffle, but the ball was already in the end zone.
The umpire's whistle blew and the Renegades took a one to nothing lead.
The scoreline did not change all through the first half. There were some tussles between evenly matched players. Greta tried to find Conrad with a long throw part way through but the ball was slapped down by Borghor Smitmarks, who had shaken off the collision with the home team bench. Renegades lineman Kim did not make it back on the pitch; he, like Abdullah, spent the rest of the game in the quiet of the changing room with a junior league appointed apothecary administering cold presses and smelling salts. Their places were taken by Weiss and Haas.
In the changing rooms, Hertzbruch scowled at the team, his frown boring a line through his skull.
"You've all done so, so well. Great plan, Benni. It worked perfectly. But we can't do it again, they will be expecting it."
"What are you worried about, coach?" asked Greta.
"Who says I'm worried?" He tried to crack a smile, but it immediately faded. "Ok, I am worried. I overheard their coach. He was telling his team not to worry about the ball but take out some of you and deal with the ball afterwards." He paced back and forth, wringing his hands together. "I've never faced a Chaos team before and I would feel terrible if anything awful happened to any of you."
"Me too," mumbled Moritz.
"Benni. Any ideas?" asked Hertzbruch. The dark-haired lad looked around the locker room. All eyes were on him, and he knew just what to say.
"Remember that game against the Dockers?" They all nodded. "They tried the same idea. Knockout first, get the ball later. But what did we do? We gave as hard as we got!"
They all cheered 'yeah!' It was loud enough to rattle the wooden, planked seating that housed the spectators a little way above them.
"Didn't we lose that game three-nil?" asked Moritz. The mood fell as players felt for wounds and bruises renewed by the depressing memory.
"Exactly. So, the Rams must know that we can't get physical with them. But M and Lucas showed us something out there. They might be quick in a straight line, but they can't change direction. We focus on the passing game." Conrad paled and Greta gulped hard. "But not only you two. All of us."
The second half began with a Rams kick. It sailed deep into the Renegades half where Schnecke was waiting. The ball bounced a couple of times, but she didn't attempt to pick it up until it was still and she could see two beastmen headed right for her.
The offensive line had split, leaving a wide gap in the middle, and two groups - Popaj, Reinhardt, and Weiss on the left, Freitag, Schrunk, and Haas on the right. As soon as Greta scooped up the ball, the trios scattered; one ran deep, one drifted inside, and one came short, turning a 1-3-6 formation into a 1-3-2-2-2.
The beastmen were on her but she faked a handoff left and switched right. She took several strides and looped a casual pass over the head of another opponent to find Benni. Gallak Shofar's huge arms scooped up Greta and smashed her, hard, purposefully, into the ground. His bare chest glistened as he towered over her and roared a guttural prayer to Khaine. Thankfully, there were so many apocalyptic verses that Greta had time to crawl away.
Benni pulled the ball into his stomach and saw another bare-chested warrior, his muscular physique making him look like a set of lighting globes stuffed into tights. This was Skarr Baal-Hammon; he held the Rottfurt record for teeth collected from opponents and proudly wore them on a necklace. And a pair of matching bracelets. And a series of stud earrings. He was registered with the league as sixteen but had played for three straight seasons at the same age. Skarr grimaced, showing off a perfectly white set of his own teeth which was surprising as the Chaos warrior dental hygiene program is not one one often hears about in polite society, but Skarr's were filed to knife points. He roared and threw himself into crazed pursuit.
Benni dared to look away to seek out Haas, the slender half-Altdorfian, half-Tilean who had only recently joined the team, and saw him free, unmolested, in centre field.
This was the play. Get the ball to Haas, take the hit enabling Haas to go wide, fake a pass to get free from the tackle, and toss the ball to Moritz, who would score. Easy.
Out of nowhere came the gargantuan Narn Chrysanallos. Some people say he was half-minotaur, half-beastman, but then that would make him three quarters beastman. Benni had no time to do the maths as he watched Haas, waving towards Benni with a satisfied smile on his face, disappear beneath twenty beer barrels of prime beef.
Even the dust cloud which replaced Haas in almost identical shape and form, shielded its face from the crunching, groaning impact. The crowd, both home and away fans, took a sharp intake of breath and turned away from the carnage.
Chrysanallos, who it was said had been found on an island to the south of the Empire in a labyrinth, relentlessly pawed the ground. He snorted great geysers of hot breath out of his flared nostrils. His eyes, like peeled oranges, strained against the vast, horned skull which kept those giant orbs unfairly imprisoned. And then he paused.
"Oh god. Sorry, man, I didn't see you there, little buddy..." he whispered, before wiping away a tear and retching uncontrollably at the sight of the bloodied, crumpled Haas. The umpire put his whistle to his lips before realising that no rules had been broken.
Speaking of broken, Benni had little time to think before he too could expect to be maimed on behalf of the shadow gods. But it was enough time to take one big step to the left and then jump almost vertically. The rabid pit warrior lunged to tackle but found himself grasping thin air. Benni landed perfectly and took off.
Up ahead, Moritz was identified as the scoring threat and the other three as a decoy, leaving Baamu Hershef as the only Rams player still chasing the three-man dummy on the Renegades left.
Two more Rams players were playing in Safety positions and trying to get a double team block on Moritz. He saw Benni with the ball and realised what he had to do. This time, he'd make the sacrifice so that the team could score.
Benni could not make the pass. There were two players between him and Moritz and the left side was buttoned up. He heard Baal-Hammon's growling getting closer behind him so knew there was no footrace he could win.
Moritz let his opponents gain ground. Clouds of hot, sweaty breath were almost upon him. He weaved this way and that way, tempting them to commit. And then they did. One went for the groin and another went for the throat. They should have gone for easier targets.
Moritz turned his foot sideways and came to an almost complete stop. As he did, he let himself go limp, falling to a heap on the turf. The two beastmen clattered into one another with a loud crack of skull striking skill and came down on top of him. Moritz squirmed loose and took to his feet again, followed by nothing but the rapturous cheers from the spectators.
Skarr was close. Close enough for Benni to hear hundreds of teeth jangling against each other. Close enough for one last stretch of his arm to yank Benni to the ground where he would surely make a generous donation to Baal-Hammon's next item of jewellery.
Then there was a gurgle and freedom.
Moritz clasped at Skarr Baal-Hammon's necklace, turning it into a choker. He tugged hard on it and the big man's face went an even brighter shade of red and his progress was ended. But up came a hand which prized Moritz's fingers away with almost no effort. Skarr turned, gripping Moritz's digits. The fingers he used to pass, to catch, to repair the things his father gave him to practise with, the fingers perfected by generations of Schrunk master locksmiths. Moritz went green as Skarr lifted him off the ground with those same fingers. The very ligaments and sinews strained and threatened to tear away from bone.
"Let go, you squig brain!" A whistling fast, leather object cracked into the side of Skarr's head, drawing blood. Without loosening his grip, the titanic warrior turned his head as slowly and deliberately as the turret on a steam tank. All he saw was fist.
Benni's hand thumped into Skarr's eye socket, knocking him backwards. His grasp loosened and Moritz shook himself loose, cradling his hand against his body. He snatched up the loose ball, which had come to rest after bouncing off of the thick Chaos warrior's skull, with his uninjured left hand and flicked it out to Sasha. She left Conrad and Elena grappling with the last remaining beastman. Sasha set off uncontested and crossed the line to score the Renegades second touchdown.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Benni slumped at the feet of the definitely not sixteen-year old Skarr Baal-Hammon.
"You're lucky, kid." He grinned again with his arrowhead teeth.
"I know."
"No," he growled. "Lucky I didn't kill you."
Crack!
The Chaos warrior brought his considerable body weight down on Benni's ankle. The pain did not register until he saw the angle his boot was positioned in in comparison to where his leg was. With a callous twist of his heel, Skarr stomped away.
Benni instinctively curled up, clasping his bent ankle, his mouth opening and closing like the whistle on the spout of his mother's kettle. Gasping and exhaling and making a barely audible whistling cry.
Moritz considered picking Benni up, carrying him in his arms off of the field. The rest of the players who could still walk ran over to Benni. They could only look down at him. Tears tumbled carelessly down his cheek and his eyes bulged.
"..." Benni tried to speak but found nothing but air passing through his lips.