STOMP! STOMP! STOMP!
Lord Greenfire steps into the hall, the whole team sitting around a big table waiting for him. The mighty warrior, leader of the team, grabs a tankard of rotten beer, takes a vigorous sip and belches. He starts staring around with a fiery look, grinding his teeth. Silence falls in the hall. Rotters are trembling.
Finally, Lord Greenfire smashes his tankard on the table and shouts: "WHO THE HELL ARE THESE GUYS? WHERE ARE THEY FROM? BLACKBOX?!? IT MUST BE A JOKE!!!"
"Er... Blackbox is a FUMBBL division, my lord..." a rotter tries to say.
"SHUT UP! THERE AREN'T OTHER DIVISIONS, JUST RANKED! I LEARNED IT IN SCHOOL!"
"He dropped school after two weeks" someone whispers to someone else. Lord Greenfire goes on, furious:
"LOOK, THEY SENT US AN INVITATION! LISTEN AT WHAT THEY WRITE!" he produces a piece of paper and reads:

Dear Losers
cherServiteurS, home of debog, invites you to the Fumbbl Cup game, tomorrow. As you probably know, debog is the top Fumbbl star of all times and top Fumbbl scorer of all times, so it is really a huge honor for you underdogs to play against him. If he's in good mood he will only score 3 touch downs and kill some rotter. But if you insist in trying to win he will get angry and erase your team from the world. Please, be aware of who you are and restrain to compete with us, this game is a mere formality and there is no need for you to die.
Since you are nothing to us, we're not giving you a scheduled time to play. Just go on the pitch and wait for us there, we will come whenever we like. And please don't get offended, but we already booked a suite at the Fullmoon Tavern for the after-game party, and we took the liberty to invite your wives, fiancées and daughters. debog will be a gentleman with them, and pay a good price to the widows and the orphans.
We look forward to meet you. Please don't concede before game starts.

Sincerely yours

cherServiteurS

"I WANT THEM DEAD!" roars Lord Greenfire. "I WANT THEM SKULLS ON A STAKE, I WANT TO SCRATCH MY BACK WITH THEIR SPINES! I WANT THAT VAMPIRE TO KISS MY BOOTS BEFORE HE DIES, WANT HIM TO LOOK UP AT ME AND BEG FOR MERCY! YOU ROTTERS! FOUL HIM AS SOON AS HE GOES DOWN! WE MUST GET RID OF THIS GUY!"
"But mylord, he's debog..."
"SHUT UP! HE'S DEAD MEAT!" WHOEVER FLEES IN FRONT OF HIM WILL BE KILLED BY ME! I WON'T HAVE MY WIFE KISSING THAT HANDSOME SON OF THE NIGHT!"
"No kissing!" screams someone, rising a glass.
"No kissing!" the others pick up.
"No kissing! No party with our women!" the chant roars in the hall, everybody drunk on beer, fear and rage.
"THAT'S FINE!" says the captain. "WE WILL DESTROY DEBOG! NOW EXCUSE ME. I GOTTA LOCK MY WIFE AND DAUGHTERS IN THEIR ROOMS UNTIL THE DAY AFTER TOMORROW. YOU KNOW... JUST IN CASE..."

So, tomorrow. At some hour in the afternoon. The great FC battle, broadcasted live by Rotten Channel. Don't miss it.

VS