Post by Hudd on Mar 31, 2015 15:47:19 GMT
King Goblin stamped about his swamp in a right old temper. Grovelling snotlings scattered from under his feet in all directions. He tore off his helmet and threw it at to the floor in disgust. Splosh it went, splattering mud in all directions.
‘Not appy about somefin, boss?’
King Goblin glared menacingly at his lackey. ‘Four. Nil. That’s wot’s wrong, Arris.’
Arris looked confused. ‘But we killed a load of players, boss.’
‘Yes. But mostly they woz are players. And puts them bombs down! For godsake, you will get us all killed.’ King Goblin sighed. ‘Tell me Arris. What is wrong. Us Gobbos should be the best at this game. We don’t care about dyin – as long as we don’t fink too ard about it anyways. We iz the are only ones that sneak weapons onto the pitch. Chainsaws, bombs – even fookin pogo sticks! And we still get smashed, game after game. It’s just not right…’
‘Not right chief, yer right there, boss.’
King Goblin brooded for a few minutes while Arris picked his nose. ‘It must be da coach. We need to get one of dem big name coaches to come and elp us.’
‘They never want to coach us Gobbos though, do they, chief? Glory hunters, the lot of em!’
King Goblin thought some more. Then he smiled. ‘Bribes! The answer to everyfin! Send out word, Arris. If any coach can win us a tournament, he will be rewarded with… well, whatever he wants, eh?’
About five minutes later, there was a knock on the tree trunk nearest King Goblin’s throne. A tall, slim, cloaked figure stood there, an aura of dark majesty surrounding him.
‘King Goblin!’ yelled Arris, jumping excitedly. ‘Coach Udd is ere! That one off the telly!’
‘Hmm,’ said King Goblin. ‘That one known as Nuffle’s Bastard?’
‘Well… he has won three titles…’
‘They were only in Tin.’
‘Tin is by far the greatest gauge of a coach’s skill,’ coach Hudd replied icily. ‘Anyway, I also won with the White Handz in Bronze…’
‘Pff. Some skillz that needed. What d’ya do there? Point them towards the pitch and run like fook? I coulda won with them lads…’
‘Perhaps you want to wait for another coach to offer his services? I did see Coach Jounisii not far behind me…’
King Goblin’s eyes widened. ‘Really? The Mushroom’s coach is ere? They have won over fifty percent of their games!’ King Goblin began dancing with excitement.
‘Not really. He won’t touch you losers.’
King Goblin glared. ‘You is mighty brave for someone in somebody else’s kingdom…’
‘You’re only gobbos…’
‘Fair point. Let’s hear yer offer then. Do yer really think yer can do it?’
Coach Hudd sat himself down on a tree stump. ‘Yes. Goblins are gonna win a tournament, with my help. Obviously… we are going to need to cheat though.’
‘Obviously,’ King Goblin nodded, vigorously.
‘We just need to make sure that our opponents are carefully picked…’
‘Yer best not be talkin about them rubbish stunty cups – no one watches them…’
‘No. No a stunty cup. But we don’t want elves or dwarfs ruining our tournament, do we now?’
‘But it needs to be open invite, or it is not a proper tournament!’
Hudd settled back, looking pleased with himself. ‘This swamp is a dangerous place. Full of monsters…’
‘Not really,’ replied King Goblin. ‘Why’d I want to live wiv a load of monsters?’
‘Well. No one else knows that. I am sure certain tournament applications could easily be… lost somehow.’
‘HurHur,’ laughed King Goblin. ‘I like it. So who’d we let in then? No elves! They stink funny!’
‘Goblins.’
‘Of course.’
‘Ogres.’
‘HurHur. I love seein dem big lummoxes tryin to it us.’
‘Halflings.’
‘Yep, they are well tasty.’
‘Now it gets a bit trickier. Chaos Dwarfs…’
‘What???’
‘But only those novelty ones that are actually all hobgoblins. Maybe a minotard too. Then we got the same with Lizards. Just the skinks and krox teams.’
‘Yeah, the’re a bit shit.’
‘We still need some more teams – I am thinking Khorne, Nurgle, Vampires and Underworld.’
‘Hmmm.’
‘But only the really crap ones.’
‘Eh?’
‘Amateur players. The ones who play just for fun.’
King Goblin still looked confused.
‘The ones that will never ever win any tournaments.’
‘Ah! Hey, I like it! It could be called King Goblin’s Speshul Invitashunal Tournament.’
Coach Hudd quickly checked to see if this had an embarrassing acronym. ‘OK! Now about my fee…’
King Goblin shifted uneasily. ‘We ain’t got that much gold yer know… but just about anything else you can fink of…’
‘Have you got any gold?’
‘Nope.’
‘We still ave some leg of our last bomber,’ said Arris, helpfully, holding out some maggoty meat. Coach Hudd ignored him.
‘Well we could do a sponsorship deal…’
‘Eh? I thought that sponsors give uz the money?’
‘Normally, but not this one. The tournament would be sponsored by my new book.’
‘Umm. You writ a book?’ asked Arris.
Coach Hudd sighed. ‘Yes.’
‘Tell me about it…’
‘How good of you to ask! It’s aimed at Game of Thrones fans. I’ll provide all the details somewhere for the fans to read…’
King Gobbo looked nonplussed. ‘Iz that it?’
‘No,’ said Hudd. ‘I also want you to invade the Kingdom of Floridia and install me as their new King.’
‘Meh, we were prolly going to do that anyway,’ replied King Goblin. ‘Cept for the making you King part. We were just going to nick all their stuff really…’
‘One other condition. The current King has three daughters – they are not to be harmed, they are to be handed safely over to me.’ Coach Hudd handed King Goblin a picture.
‘Mmm – they look good eating…’ replied Arris.
‘They aren’t for eating, fookwit,’ replied King Goblin. ‘They look a bit pale though. Are you sure you wouldn’t like some of our young Goblins instead?’
‘Err…’ replied Coach Hudd. ‘I think you are confusing me with Manco or Deano.’
‘Oh. Each to der own I spose. So, lemme get this right. You want us to mobilise the entire Goblin nation to go to war, and capture some scrawny humans – and in return you’ll be our coach.’
‘Yep.’
‘You gotta win us the whole tournament though.’
‘A formality! It’s a deal!’
‘Yeah,’ shouted Arris, juggling with his grenades. ‘This is gonna be great! We is gonna blow dem other teams to bits! Gobbo power!’
‘Ah, Arris…’ replied Coach Hudd. ‘I’m afraid you might not make the team…’
‘Not appy about somefin, boss?’
King Goblin glared menacingly at his lackey. ‘Four. Nil. That’s wot’s wrong, Arris.’
Arris looked confused. ‘But we killed a load of players, boss.’
‘Yes. But mostly they woz are players. And puts them bombs down! For godsake, you will get us all killed.’ King Goblin sighed. ‘Tell me Arris. What is wrong. Us Gobbos should be the best at this game. We don’t care about dyin – as long as we don’t fink too ard about it anyways. We iz the are only ones that sneak weapons onto the pitch. Chainsaws, bombs – even fookin pogo sticks! And we still get smashed, game after game. It’s just not right…’
‘Not right chief, yer right there, boss.’
King Goblin brooded for a few minutes while Arris picked his nose. ‘It must be da coach. We need to get one of dem big name coaches to come and elp us.’
‘They never want to coach us Gobbos though, do they, chief? Glory hunters, the lot of em!’
King Goblin thought some more. Then he smiled. ‘Bribes! The answer to everyfin! Send out word, Arris. If any coach can win us a tournament, he will be rewarded with… well, whatever he wants, eh?’
About five minutes later, there was a knock on the tree trunk nearest King Goblin’s throne. A tall, slim, cloaked figure stood there, an aura of dark majesty surrounding him.
‘King Goblin!’ yelled Arris, jumping excitedly. ‘Coach Udd is ere! That one off the telly!’
‘Hmm,’ said King Goblin. ‘That one known as Nuffle’s Bastard?’
‘Well… he has won three titles…’
‘They were only in Tin.’
‘Tin is by far the greatest gauge of a coach’s skill,’ coach Hudd replied icily. ‘Anyway, I also won with the White Handz in Bronze…’
‘Pff. Some skillz that needed. What d’ya do there? Point them towards the pitch and run like fook? I coulda won with them lads…’
‘Perhaps you want to wait for another coach to offer his services? I did see Coach Jounisii not far behind me…’
King Goblin’s eyes widened. ‘Really? The Mushroom’s coach is ere? They have won over fifty percent of their games!’ King Goblin began dancing with excitement.
‘Not really. He won’t touch you losers.’
King Goblin glared. ‘You is mighty brave for someone in somebody else’s kingdom…’
‘You’re only gobbos…’
‘Fair point. Let’s hear yer offer then. Do yer really think yer can do it?’
Coach Hudd sat himself down on a tree stump. ‘Yes. Goblins are gonna win a tournament, with my help. Obviously… we are going to need to cheat though.’
‘Obviously,’ King Goblin nodded, vigorously.
‘We just need to make sure that our opponents are carefully picked…’
‘Yer best not be talkin about them rubbish stunty cups – no one watches them…’
‘No. No a stunty cup. But we don’t want elves or dwarfs ruining our tournament, do we now?’
‘But it needs to be open invite, or it is not a proper tournament!’
Hudd settled back, looking pleased with himself. ‘This swamp is a dangerous place. Full of monsters…’
‘Not really,’ replied King Goblin. ‘Why’d I want to live wiv a load of monsters?’
‘Well. No one else knows that. I am sure certain tournament applications could easily be… lost somehow.’
‘HurHur,’ laughed King Goblin. ‘I like it. So who’d we let in then? No elves! They stink funny!’
‘Goblins.’
‘Of course.’
‘Ogres.’
‘HurHur. I love seein dem big lummoxes tryin to it us.’
‘Halflings.’
‘Yep, they are well tasty.’
‘Now it gets a bit trickier. Chaos Dwarfs…’
‘What???’
‘But only those novelty ones that are actually all hobgoblins. Maybe a minotard too. Then we got the same with Lizards. Just the skinks and krox teams.’
‘Yeah, the’re a bit shit.’
‘We still need some more teams – I am thinking Khorne, Nurgle, Vampires and Underworld.’
‘Hmmm.’
‘But only the really crap ones.’
‘Eh?’
‘Amateur players. The ones who play just for fun.’
King Goblin still looked confused.
‘The ones that will never ever win any tournaments.’
‘Ah! Hey, I like it! It could be called King Goblin’s Speshul Invitashunal Tournament.’
Coach Hudd quickly checked to see if this had an embarrassing acronym. ‘OK! Now about my fee…’
King Goblin shifted uneasily. ‘We ain’t got that much gold yer know… but just about anything else you can fink of…’
‘Have you got any gold?’
‘Nope.’
‘We still ave some leg of our last bomber,’ said Arris, helpfully, holding out some maggoty meat. Coach Hudd ignored him.
‘Well we could do a sponsorship deal…’
‘Eh? I thought that sponsors give uz the money?’
‘Normally, but not this one. The tournament would be sponsored by my new book.’
‘Umm. You writ a book?’ asked Arris.
Coach Hudd sighed. ‘Yes.’
‘Tell me about it…’
‘How good of you to ask! It’s aimed at Game of Thrones fans. I’ll provide all the details somewhere for the fans to read…’
King Gobbo looked nonplussed. ‘Iz that it?’
‘No,’ said Hudd. ‘I also want you to invade the Kingdom of Floridia and install me as their new King.’
‘Meh, we were prolly going to do that anyway,’ replied King Goblin. ‘Cept for the making you King part. We were just going to nick all their stuff really…’
‘One other condition. The current King has three daughters – they are not to be harmed, they are to be handed safely over to me.’ Coach Hudd handed King Goblin a picture.
‘Mmm – they look good eating…’ replied Arris.
‘They aren’t for eating, fookwit,’ replied King Goblin. ‘They look a bit pale though. Are you sure you wouldn’t like some of our young Goblins instead?’
‘Err…’ replied Coach Hudd. ‘I think you are confusing me with Manco or Deano.’
‘Oh. Each to der own I spose. So, lemme get this right. You want us to mobilise the entire Goblin nation to go to war, and capture some scrawny humans – and in return you’ll be our coach.’
‘Yep.’
‘You gotta win us the whole tournament though.’
‘A formality! It’s a deal!’
‘Yeah,’ shouted Arris, juggling with his grenades. ‘This is gonna be great! We is gonna blow dem other teams to bits! Gobbo power!’
‘Ah, Arris…’ replied Coach Hudd. ‘I’m afraid you might not make the team…’