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The Overlord’s Chalice

Long ago (some might say a year), a major blood bowl circuit whose name has long been forgotten came to a halt due to labor disputes. Owners and players had become frustrated with game times changing, strange forfeit procedures and an inability to reach the commissioner. Soon cities throughout the old world were left with empty stadiums and players were left without fans to cheer for them or throw them flowers or rocks. No records remain of that ancient league, all records were destroyed in a fire that authorities suspect may have been arson. So no one can truly say how chaotic the sporting world was during that dark time, but one can reason it must have been sheer madness. Little else could explain how a small collection of goblin overlords could have managed to convince so many to let them step into the void and organize a league to bring fans back to the stadiums of the Old World.

For all the things goblin overlords are not (wise, organized, rich, honorable, the list goes on for days), they are at least conniving and great braggarts able to tell convincingly grand tales about things that never happened or weren’t too spectacular to begin with. Such is the real story behind the forming of GOBBLN. So when a group of goblin overlords saw the chaos of a blood bowl work stoppage, they saw an opportunity to lure in the finest coaches and teams throughout the land with the promise of competing for a priceless chalice that would have all of the names of the winners engraved on it. They figured they could make a large profit from team entry fees and stadium concessions, and then use a small portion of these proceeds to fund a covert operation into an ancient dwarven hall and rummage around for something that looked like the previously described trophy.

False Marketing Image of Chalice

Such was the grandiose of the overlords’ marketing machine (and general lack of other options) that brought 30 of the finest teams in all the lands to compete for it. Sadly, goblin bookkeeping, math and corruption do not mix well when money is involved and almost no entry fees were ever collected. Goblin cooking isn’t too good to begin with, and selling rat on a stick doesn't work so well at skaven matches. So concession sales actually were negative due to numerous fans demanding refunds, and the aforementioned goblin mathematical challenges. So the Grand Overlord was forced to fund the “procurement expedition” with threats instead of equipment, and ordered his crack team to get back before the championship concluded. The blood bowl was indeed spectacular, even if the venues were not. The goblin procurement squad miraculously returned just before the tournament final. Unfortunately the only thing they came back with was a rather splintery wooden mug. It was at least a pretty big sized mug, but it kind of smelled like ogre, and quite frankly was worth more than most goblins can afford. Upon careful consideration the Grand Overlord decided that it was at least big enough to engrave all those names on it, and someone pointed out that he always had said the chalice was priceless and no one had actually paid for this thing. So upon conclusion of the match he awarded the victorious team’s captain with the splintery wooden mug with the funky smell coming from it. While numerous curious looks were exchanged on the podium, he insisted that this was indeed “The Overlord’s Chalice” and no one really wanted to offend the host.

The event was largely a success despite its many challenges. While the teams decided that in the future they would play most of their games back in their own stadiums, they also opted to allow the overlords to continue to run the league, which would soon need a name. In typical self-serving ways, the overlords came up with an acronym that at least preserved some level of their dignity, even if they weren’t going to turn much of a profit or get to host many games. Thus was formed the Grand Organization of Blood Bowl Lovin’ Nations. To this day, every year the finest teams from all across the globe still gather to compete and win at all cost for a large splintery wooden mug, that still smells rather a lot like an ogre but is always described to be much more than it ever was.

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