“The knocking on the door of the Six Feet Underdogs club house finally got the attention of one of the patrons. An undead night goblin answered the door. In the doorway stood a gnome with a medical bag.

“I’m here to see yer blitzer Xar’anx.” He said.

The goblin shrugged and pointed to the banquet table. The legendary troll who was also the team owner chatted with an elegant ogre whose mug seemed very familiar. Corbis could not quite put his finger on why he should recognize the ogre and it nagged at him. Still he was here on a job so he set himself to the task.

“You must be Xar’anx.” He said to the blitzer. “The Widow and Orphan Guardians have received a donation on the behalf of the deceased Saren of the Senile Salamanders. Due to your unique talents, you have been awarded a complimentary manicure and pedicure. Please sit here and we will get started.”

“Braaains?” queried the zombie rat.

“Indeed, and they have pitched in a helping of barbecued brains.” replied the gnome settling the rat into a recliner a few meters behind his boss. The seat was out of sight but within earshot of the conversation. “You can pick up the brains in the stand outside the locker room before tomorrow’s game. Now just place your feet and claws in these buckets of acid mix to get a good soak. Yer nails will be the envy of the team when I am done.”

The buckets sizzled and popped as they soaked, but as zombies are braindead Xar’anx felt no pain. Meanwhile Corbis pulled a hand grinder and pink polish from the doctor’s bag and listened to the conversation at the table.

Gerald was already in mid conversation. “I’ve already sent a spiked ball to the referee and hired a halfling chef. What else do you recommend?”

The ogre looked pained as he thought about it. “Make sure you pay that ref well. Hopefully he will ignore a couple of fouls, and don’t forget a couple of kegs of Bloodweiser Ale. Ahh, and don’t forget to give a custard pie to Ba’rat. You never know when it will come in handy.”

After twenty minutes in the acid bath, the rats nails had fallen off of both feet and the left hand. The right hand was tricky. This was the mutated claw Corbis had been sent specifically to deal with. First he started with a hammer and pounded the talons until they broke in half. Then he went to work with the grinder. As smoke billowed from the he worried that someone may notice the smell then remembered the stench of death in the air when he walked in the room initially. Fifteen minutes later, the claws had been ground down to the nubs.”

Looking at his mangled claw, Xar’anx almost sobbed “Brainsssss…”
“Ah don’t worry big fella” said Corbis taking pity on the blitzer. “I’ll fixe em up and they’ll regenerate in about a week.”

With that, Corbis opened the can of pink polish and quickly slapped a coat covering all ten toes then the five fingers of the left hand. Then he took the time to apply a nice coat to the manicured stubs on the right hand.
“There you go.” He said with pride.

The beast looked at his digits and smiled in glee “BRAIIINS!!!”

With the work done he gathered his tools and made for the exit glancing back only to see Xar’anx hold his hands in front of Gerald for inspection. Now sprinting out the door Corbis chuckled as he heard the cursing from Gerald and full throated belly laughs from the visiting ogre.

It was a job well done. But to be on the safe side he would be sure that the concession stand offered free brains to all players before the match tomorrow.

When the players took the field the next day, Corbis figured out who the ogre at the club house had been. The announcer holding the megaphone shouted through the cone.

“Now playing in this historic match for the Six Feet Underdogs, wearing number 90, none other than the great MORRRRG ‘N Thorg.”

Some of the rookie elves looked worried. Kondor was impressed. It was the team captain Revwe who kept her composure and rallied the team.

“He is big.” She said looking at Joelena. “So what. Treat him like any other big menace. Stay away. If he can’t reach you, he can’t hit you. The rat would have been the real problem but I paid Corbis well to take care of that. He will hit you as hard as an ogre, but I doubt he will get through your armor. Honestly, if we can get Ba’rat off the field, we will win this match.”

The game itself went exactly as Revwe had predicted. Morg was frustrated and only threw three blocks the entire match. Yet Xar’anx was easily the most infuriated. Sure he was able to temporarily put a few elves on the sideline for a breather but he was unable to do any damage. After each block he looked at his former claw with mixed emotions frowning at his ineptitude the bouncing in glee at the pretty pink fingers.

Unfortunately, the other half of the prediction was equally true. Despite several shots on Ba’rat, the Archers could not bring him down. His efforts single handedly earned the Underdogs a draw.

With the game in the books, the Archers of Avelon were not happy with the results but it could have been worse. Once Corbis calculated that the Underdogs had spent at least a million gold on the game their frustration turned to pride. If it had not been for that lucky rat, this would have been a glorious upset. In actuality, the draw would be talked about in Avelon until Avelon ceased to exist. This was the day that Morg joined the game and all of the Archers lived to tell about it.

While the Archers celebrated, Kondor made his way to the office outside the Underdog locker room and found Gerald.

“Hello Gerald” greeted Kondor. “Or should I call you Coach Squiglet?”

Gerald scowled “I have not been called that in a lifetime or two. What do you want Kondor?”

“Not much. Just a rematch sometime. And I will make sure your star player is not wearing pink to the match.”

Now Gerald smirked. “You’ve got yerself a deal Runt.”
”