“Corbis and Kondor rode in the luggage wagon of the caravan as it bounced and thumped along the rutted dirt road that would lead the team back to Avelon. The Archers of Avelon had just concluded successful four match road trip and everyone was looking forward to comfortable beds and familiar faces.

Corbis could not restrain his curiosity any longer. “How did you choose these matches? They worked out but the choices were odd to say the least. I can’t even pronounce three of the team names. Fish Sauce Fried, Minor Surgery, Caustic Dregs, and Passing Pharaohs? That last one cannot be correct. I’ve never seen a skeleton throw the ball.”

Kondor laughed. “They were all from different countries with different languages. I have no idea how they should be translated. I think the first three are wrong, but the last one is correct. You got it confused because the lizard that coaches the skeletal team has a thick accent.”

While it was clear that he did not agree and equally clear that Kondor was not going to answer the question, Corbis decided to change the topic slightly.

“The elves played well this stretch. They even had a shot at beating the Dregs until Nuffle stepped in.” he said.

“Nuffle had nothing to do with it.” Kondor replied. “They earned the wins and the loss. I hate to say it but they are playing pretty well. The worst thing is that the opponents couldn’t really even hurt one of them. Sure Throthradir and Maylin missed a game but what did that accomplish? Here I thought I found some suitably nasty teams but all of the elves are still walking. Not even a pack of skeletons could foul anyone into retirement. Corbis….Sometimes I feel like I am losing my touch… that I am failing at my job.”

The old gnome did not know what to say. He had been successful at everything he set his hand to. Kondor leaned back against the wall of the wagon and closed his eyes in thought. Maybe. Just maybe. Things would change in the next game or two.”