When the team carriage arrived at the stadium, I was informed by the tournament clerk that a note had been left stating a 2 hour delay to kick off.

No problem (he says, after much foot stomping had ensued), the zombies were tipped out of their trailer into a pit big enough for them to stretch their wonky legs, the wolves were fed some dead locals (rat on the menu), the flesh golems sat there idly, and the ghouls and wights did whatever it is ghouls and wights do - scare people I guess. The 2 hours passed, and the match began.

It seems anger was in the air, as a ginormous rock was hurled onto the pitch and into the head of Nestoroide - the minotaur badly hurt and no apothecary deployed to the amazement of everybody watching. I stepped out the back door for a few seconds to tap dance without embarrassing the team.

A bull made a run for it with the ball, the wizard said, "I don't think so!" Zap. Soon after, a wolf steals it and is racing near-clear.

*poof* My opponent, Punk77, vanishes in a plume of purple smoke. Conspiracy theorists are chattering amongst themselves, rumours circulate both good and bad. Is he kept in a tower and forced to grow his hair really long? (Which hair?) All I know is he's not responding to telegrams or carrier pigeons.

It looks like I may get through to the 2nd round without an opportunity to pen a match report.

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Bye confirmed. No word from my opponent, so I guess an easy decision for the tournament admins.