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Fiction The Bowl of Blood

Discussion in 'Fluff and Stories' started by Warden, Jun 13, 2020.

  1. Warden
    Slann

    Warden Tenth Spawning

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    April-May 2020 Short Story Contest Entry


    The Bowl of Blood

    Shrill cries of the voxsaurs announced the commencement of the games to delight of the roaring crowd. The High Skink Priest looked down from his palanquin as the stadium came alive with the loud cries of assembled skinks, and the roars of the saurus and kroxigors.

    First the warmup matches. Warmblood captives from the ongoing war, forced to play in the bloody arena, were led out into the pitch. The emaciated peasants and broken nobles alike played four successive games, each with respect to the impending end of the forthcoming Baktun, the next turn of the great cycle. At the conclusion of each game, the announcer skink and lord of the games, bedecked in the jaguar-costume of Huanchi, declared to the roars of the crowd the victory of the saurian team. The losing team, battered and bruised, were made to kneel at the feet of the victorious Lizardmen players, while the Lord of the Games pointed with his skull-topped staff to the podium where the High Priest sat, awaiting his command.

    As was tradition, the High Priest raised his arm, thumb pointed horizontal to the ground theatrically as he listened to the spectators. Only when the voices were raised to a fever pitch did he dramatically drop his thumb to point to the ground, signaling the executioners on the pitch. The warmblood losers were sacrificed on the bowl of the pitch, their blood running red in the channels on either side as the audience chanted in thunderous applause the holy words of the Cult,


    Sotek Nacom, Sotek Maka! Sotek is good, Sotek is Great!


    Now the field was sanctified, and the true game could begin. From both ends of the pitch the teams of the two rival temples strode forth.

    From the High Priests right came his home team, the Tzunki Terradons, fast and deadly warriors dressed in the green colors of the Water God. Green pendants fluttered through the stadium as his loyal supporters chanted the name of their patron god, flapping their terradon-wing pendants at their sides in a show of support for their team. The Terradons were unrivalled champions, the High Priest knew, with an untarnished record in this stadium and far abroad, having played in stadiums as far afield as Tlaxtlan and even Itza with great success. Today they would bring much honor and respect to his temple.

    From the High Priests left came the Sotek Stegadons, burly warriors dressed in red and wearing the skull-helms of their namesake, marched onto the pitch. The supporters of the Cult, painting the stadium red in their assembled colors, forever chanting in unison the bloodthirty words of the cult.


    Sotek Nacom, Sotek Maka! Sotek is good, Sotek is Great!


    The High Priest didn’t fail to notice the large turnout of the Cult of Sotek today, at his quick estimate more than two-thirds of the assembled audience wore the red colors instead of his own green.

    “No matter,” removing the irritant from his mind, “the fickle ones will soon regret their choice when the scions of Tzunki claim victory once again.”

    Both the Sotek Stegadons and the Tzunki Terradons lined up in the center of the bowl. Nimble skink in front of nimble skink, saurus linemen before saurus, barrel-chested kroxigor facing off against kroxigor, prepared to fight for the glory of their temple. Just before the Lord of the Games dropped his staff to begin the game, an attendant came rushing out onto the pitch. After a flurry of confusion, the Lord of the Games flourished his jaguar-skin robes and held aloft his staff with a surprise announcement from the Cult of Sotek.

    “There has been a last minute substitution! A star player from Chaqua has been drafted in by the Stegadons, and shall compete for the glory of Sotek on this field today!”

    The High Priest, as shocked as anyone else, sees from across the pitch the arrival of the leader of the Cult of Sotek, previously abscent from the games. Along with him was the largest skink the High Priest had ever seen. The skink was quite nearly the size of a saurus, maybe even larger than the smallest specimens of the species. His head crest was tall and red, giving him a monstrous appearance, and was bedecked in some of the finest golden player-armor that the Cult possessed. The High Priest and the followers of Tzunki looked on with some trepidation as the cries of the assembled cult rent the air.


    Immediately the game commenced.


    The High Priest and his followers looked on in shock as the Terradons were soundly beaten back. This new player was everywhere, easily head and shoulders above the other skinks, and far better and stronger than any of the players in his skill and ability, to include the mighty saurus. Time and time again he ran circles around his opponents, exploiting every opportunity, dodging every obstacle sent against him. It was no longer a competition, it was a massacre.

    The game ended in a resounding 63-0, victory for the Stegadons, with the champion Terradons completely shut out from even being close to scoring. Never had the High Priest witnessed such a game of Pok Tok, not in all his years in the service of his god. Nothing could contain the jubilation of the Cult, nor assuage the collective shock of the supporters of Tzunki, stunned in their seats as the cries of Sotek Nacom, Sotek Maka screeched throughout the stadium.

    All eyes suddenly turned to the star player down on the pitch. He had planted himself at the doors of the pitch, barring the defeated Terradon team from leaving in shame. The skink raised his arm, hushing the celebratory chanting.

    “High Priest!” he called out, his words echoing through the bowl as he addressed the assembled masses, “it does not do well to refuse the Gods their due!”

    He continued, now leveling his arm at the defeated players in front of him. “The Old Ones demand their sacrifice! Sotek Nacom, Sotek Maka!”


    Confusion rippled through the stadium as the meaning of the skinks pronouncement was digested. Chanting continued once again, shouts of dismay from the loosing team and spectators, cries of foul play from the assembled priests.

    The High Priest was himself stunned. Long had the tradition endured, of sacrificing the loosing team in a game of Pok Tok, and letting the blood flow for the glory of the gods. Many warmbloods, skaven, and other vile creatures had been sacrificed in this way, forced to endure a savage beating at the hands of the victorious Lizardmen teams. But these games were but fodder for the masses, training games for the saurian players, nothing more. No Skink, Saurus, nor Kroxigor had ever been sacrificed upon the pitch, not since the Old Days long past.


    Amid the discord the massive skink cried out once again for the High Priests’ blessing.

    Upon being instructed, the High Priests’ attendant moved forward to the edge of the podium to address the pitch.

    “Great Skink, master of Pok Tok, you have played well this day bringing much glory to your god.” The skink upon the field bowed low in deference to the High Priest as the attendant continued. “What is your name, that we of the Temple City know who it is that blesses the games with your unrivaled skill?”

    Cries of assent were called out from the crowd, even the Cult seemed to be unaware of the identity of their new star-player. The High Priest meanwhile was gauging the reaction of his rival, the Cult Leader, across the field, who sat with his own attendants with an air of smugness and satisfaction never before witnessed.

    With a defiant cry, the skink bellowed out his reply “I am Tenehuanin, the Prophet of Sotek, and I have travelled far in the Serpent God to do his bidding. The Second Coming of Sotek is upon us my children, and will commence with the arrival of the new Baktun. All his followers will be ready, and we shall purge the taint of warmbloods from our lands!”


    “Imposter” said the High Priest under his breath, as the stunned followers of the temple of Tzunki sat with mouths agape listening to the chants of Sotek Nacom, Sotek Maka echoing through the stadium.

    Panicked conversations began amongst the High Priest’s retainers as they debated amongst themselves the truth of the skink’s statements.

    “The Prophet of Sotek died many baktuns ago during the cull of the Skaven.”

    “No skink could have lived that long.”

    “Trick of the Cult. They seek to win over the populace of the city.”

    “It is a ploy to seize power of the temple city”

    The High Priest issued more instructions to his attendant, again addressing the skink upon the pitch.

    “Mighty Skink, those are high claims. The ancient Prophet of Sotek has not been seen in for many cycles. It is believed he perished driving the rats from the temples of Quetza and deep in the tunnels beneath the earth, a martyr to the end. What sign do you have to show the truth of your claims?”

    The skink below barred his teeth, confidently smiling at the High Priest. Turning to the followers of the Cult, he raised his arms and cried out.

    “The High Priest asks for a sign! As it is written, those who do not believe will be made to know truth. Behold portents of doom to those who fail to heed my words!!

    Far above the crowd, he pointed at the sun, now cresting high above the field. Once again to the collective shock of the assembled audience, the crowd was witnessed to the second miracle of the day. Slowly the side of the sun began to disappear, slowly at first, then faster as in an erratic display of unpredictability, the Chaos Moon covered the sun in a total eclipse.


    Terror and fear filled the cries of the skinks as the green moon was made visible. Panicked roars of the kroxigors as they bolted from the stadium, sending skinks flying through the air as bedlam struck. The High Priests and his followers scrambled for cover, the priests of the Moon in shock as such an eclipse was not predicted for this day.

    But then the voice of the self-proclaimed Prophet split through the commotion.

    “Fear not my spawn-brethren, behold now the power of the Serpent God!!”

    With his words, the green moon began to recede. Soon the darkness dissipated and the light returned, and the followers of Sotek again began up their chant of thanks, and even the followers of Tzunki took up the chant. Horrified, the High Priest and his attendants watched as the Tzunki Terradons, former champions of Pok Tok and masters of their craft, were grabbed by the arms and led to the center of the bowl and made to kneel at the feet of the victorious team. As the Lord of the Games, still bedecked in his jaguar-robes of Huanchi, entered the pitch, he lofted his skull-staff and pointed at the podium, awaiting the command of the High Priest while the Prophet led the thunderous chant of the ecstatic crowd.


    SOTEK NACOM, SOTEK MAKA! SOTEK NACOM, SOTEK MAKA!


    Numb with shock and overcome by the events he had witnessed, the High Priest raised his hand, and pointed his thumb to the ground, muttering to himself a disbelieving “Sotek is Good, Sotek is Great” as he watched his champions executed, their blood cast out onto the floor of the pitch.
     
  2. Warden
    Slann

    Warden Tenth Spawning

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    Reviews :bookworm:

    I appreciate it! Enjoyed putting this one together, despite not knowing much about Blood Bowl.


    I figure in the Warhammer/blood bowl universe, the Lizardmen being the first race and all, would have developed the game that the rest of the world wound up adapting in the future.

    Good points about too much of an overwhelming victory, could definitely be seen as too unrealistic.

    Thanks! I wanted to include a bit from Roman gladiatorial scenes, glad that was made pretty obvious. And I am glad the religious-manipulation angle was made apparent, that was basically the intent of the entire story.
    Thanks again, glad to see all the entries into this contest.
    I appreciate the review!

    I totally understand your frustration with not having much of the details of the game described in the story. Mostly my objective was the drama that unfolded outside the game rather than the game itself... but also I have never actually played Blood Bowl before. I did try watching a few Blood Bowl how-to videos on youtube while researching this story, but couldn't figure out a way to make it sound anything other than boring when I gave a blow-by-blow account, so I just glossed over it :joyful:

    That being said the new Lizardmen blood bowl team would be a treat to put together, so I may learn more in the future. Also does anyone know of any good Blood Bowl fanfic out there? That would have been useful as a reference now that I think about it.


    Thanks again all for the reviews! :pompus:
     
    Last edited: Jun 13, 2020

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