AutoAxpert grumbled. Much to his surprise, in the last months he had learned that he was able to adapt to a lot of things. He adapted to the bizzarre geometry of the Hall. He adapted to ticking noises and sleep deprivation. He adapted to live with mutated monstrosities of all sizes. He adapted to nightmares, allucinations and visions.

What he couldn't adapt to, though, was the existential dread of training the group of misfits the Hall produced as a team. They played terrible during winter; they were badly outmatched during spring; at least, the team didn't look flatlined during summer, but the level of play still felt disappointing.

A third place it's still a third place though.
"Yeah, right. A third place with a sub-.500 win rate, and we got to that only because we were really lucky in that last game. I'd hardly call that a win."
A third place it's still a third place. And, I mean, we got to Bronze tier. I mean, that's not good but not bad either.
"Again, do we really deserve that though? Many teams in copper didn't even play yet - we just got here due to being in the league for a long time."
Aren't you a bit too harsh with yourself and with the team? Sure, it hasn't been a good start, but you never thought it would be. And we kept a lot of those game closer than they had any right to be, the team just needs to get a bit more experience and we should be fine.
"Yeah, right. In bronze. We're going to get kicked in the butt day in and day out, let me tell you, and we're not even in a top tier. What am I even supposed to..."

The man was interrupted by a loud knock on the door.
"I'M BUSY!"
"Coach, it's me, Horok! You asked to see me!"
"Ah, right. Come in then."

The lean, young Tzaangor entered the room. He was beaming with pride.
"First I wanted to thank you for this chance, I won't disappoint you and I'm ready to give my best performance every night to ensure..."
"You've been on the team for a whole MONTH, Horok. You have already played once. You have even made the exact same speech a couple of times. I fully know what you're capable of."
And it's not much, he thought.
Hey, that's not fair. He played okay for a complete rookie.
"Shut up" AutoAxpert hissed under his breath.
"Uh, coach, I didn't say anything."
"I'M NOT TALKING TO YOU"
Horok looked around in confusion.
"But there's nobody else he-"
The man grabbed the jersey of the Tzaangor, leaning in a bit too close for Horok's comfort. The coach's breath smelled like that of a Centigor after a bad night, and his eyes were bloodshot and scary, like he was completely unhinged. Horok trembled like he never did since he was just a little calf.
With a calm and cold voice AutoAxpert spoke.
"Now listen up. First, never interrupt me again. Ever. Second, the reason I called you here today is to talk about the gameplay for tonight. We are going to face sea elves. Have you ever seen Sea Elves play?"
Horok vehemently shook his head in denial.
"Well, I did. In fact, I passed the last nights watching replays of them on Cabal Vision. So you better listen to- yes, right like I COULD SLEEP ANYWAY WITH YOU GUYS NOT SHUTTING UP!"
Again, the man started screaming to nothing. Horok heard a faint ticking sound intensifying somewhere in the room. The coach turned again his head towards his player.
"We were saying - a right! You might think they're some kind of wussy team, that doesn't like getting up close and personal. But these aren't your usual elves, oh no. They have good armor and they aren't afraid of us. But they have a flaw. They are slow, and they're not particularly strong. Now, we're not fast either, and our familiars are probably going to end up as goo under somebody's boot any minute, but we can pass. And a pass goes faster than any elf. So that's what we are going to do, or we get stomped again. And I won't be happy, because the Master isn't going to be happy. You know what happens when the Master isn't happy? That ticking machine is going to tick a bit louder and a bit faster. This place chews the mind of people like you and me, Horok. It makes us mad, it shapes us so we can help Tzeentch do whatever the hell it wants. Have you ever spoke to one of your teammates? Everyone of them is a freak. Windhelm has dementia, Vol'arth is a scheming idiot, trying to get the Herald to speak clearly is as hard as nailing water to a wall, M'zart loves his fire puns a bit too much and don't even get me started on Emminoth or the familiars."
"What about Eltrith?"
"I'm not even sure he's alive. You see, if you remain here you and I will become like them. But I don't count on staying here forever, and neither should you. So you need to be my man out there, because they won't listen to me but to the Harbinger. And I want to get out of here. So, are you with me?"
"But I like being a player..."
"Are you with me or not, Horok?"
"Coach, you strangling-"
"WITH ME OR AGAINST ME, HOROK. WHAT IS IT?"
"Ack, ok, I'm with you"
"Good boy. Now go get me a crate of Bloodweiser. Double malt. Put it on our bench. See you on the field. We're going to do great things together."
Horok ran out of the room, massaging his neck.

Really sane what you did there.
"The best way to make Blood Bowl players do what you want them to do is to make them feel threatened. And shut up, you're not even real."
I'm your reflection after all. I know what you're thinking. You are not that sane any more. I mean, you're talking to ME.
"You're not really here. I just talk to you to meditate a little bit."
Sure. Keep telling yourself that. Look at the bright side. At least it's me and not somebody else.
HI
"Oh Sigmar here we go"
IT'S REALLY QUIET IN HERE YES
Oh boy. Have fun. Hear you later.
I HAVE BUGS IN MY EYES TAKE THEM OUT PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

In another room of the Mirrored Hall, a shapeless form floated in front of a mirror. If somebody was there at that moment, they would most certainly had been sure that the thing was smiling.