Coach Gunnarsson was nervous. He paced anxiously amongst the stained marbled halls of the corrupted city of Bel-Aer and occasionally strained an ear to attempt to discern the sounds from within the throne room of the team owner, Flesh-Prince Hakkalazhar, Champion of Slaanesh, Lord of Seven Hundred Perversions. He had good reason to worry; his team had just completed a massively disappointing debut season in the DBL, managing a measly two wins in eight games and falling at the first hurdle in the post-season consolation cup. Gunnarsson was not hopeful that the famously capricious and sadistic Prince would accept excuses. In fact he was so terrified, he had taken the step of bringing his season’s salary to return as an apology. He eyed the heavy, gently clinking sack sadly as the doors swung open suddenly and one of Hakkalazhar’s typically wan servants screeched theatrically, ‘His majesty will see you now!’
Gunnarsson winced and peered into the throne room to see the grim spectacle of the aftermath of one of the Prince’s famous orgies. Bodies, some moving, some not, lay on couches and across the floor. Fluids of every colour and viscosity covered seemingly every surface. On a tarnished golden throne, a blotchy, corpulent creature sat in half-slumber above it all. One of the eyes blinked open lazily and fixed for a moment upon Gunnarsson, at which point both eyes sprang open and the figure lifted its bulk in an instant.
‘Coach? How dare you?!’
Gunnarsson’ heart sank. His life was forfeit. Visions of myriad excruciating tortures flashed before his eyes.
‘Prince, I can-’
‘Don’t bother! I don’t want to hear it! I am mortally offended! What possible excuse could you offer?’
‘My Lord-’
‘I want answers!’
‘I don’t-’
‘Why were you not at last night’s orgy?’
Gunnarsson, open-mouthed, did a swift double take.
‘You know, I’m so put out, I’m almost thinking of not inviting you back to coach the team again.’
His life was not forfeit! And the mad Prince was only angry about him missing the party! Gunnarsson suppressed his look of relief and affected an apologetic and frustrated aspect.
‘My...carriage was delayed your highness, I have just this moment arrived. I had the driver flayed on the steps, of course!’
‘Hmph! Well you missed such a time, coach!’ Hakkalazhar leaned closer, an overpowering
smell of vile perfume assaulting Gunnarsson’ nostrils. ‘I know it was wonderful because I can’t remember any of it!’ he laughed.
Gunnarsson fell to one knee to provide some small distance between them.
‘A thousand pardons my Lord. But did you say something about next season?’
‘Hmm? Oh yes! I’m already so excited just thinking about it! Who shall we have on the team? Oh! What about a new kit?’
‘My apologies, Prince, I thought you might be disappointed in the team. In me.’
‘What? Coach, I’m absolutely delighted! I haven’t laughed so much in years!’
Now Gunnarsson was utterly confused.
‘I am...glad you enjoyed it.’
‘An absolute masterpiece of physical comedy!’
Gunnarsson smiled. His fists clenched..
‘You are too kind, your majesty.’
‘If I had to pick a favourite moment, it would be when that insufferable Elf - what was his name?
‘Illariel. Illariel The Golden.’
‘That’s the fellow. What a bore! Utterly self-obsessed. Anyway, yes, all that talk and then that Goblin cut his head off with a chainsaw in the second game!’
The Prince roared with laughter at the memory.
‘I don’t mind admitting I absolutely soiled myself! What a hoot! I had his head brought here, you know. We had quite a time with it!
Gunnarsson faked a laugh as his mind recoiled in horror. Hakkalazhar clapped a clammy hand on his shoulder.
‘In short, it was fantastic entertainment, and you must stay with us!’
‘Well thank you Prince -’, Gunnarsson began, but his heart sank as he watched Hakkalazhar’s eyes travel down his body and rest upon the sack of coin he still gripped tightly.
‘But what is this? A gift?’
‘Well, my Lord-’
‘Oh you shouldn’t have, coach! Oh what a wonderful gesture! Why there’s enough here to make arrangements for another orgy tonight!’
‘Yes, yes there certainly is,’ Gunnarsson said through gritted teeth. He stood powerlessly as Hakkalzhar took the money from his hands, and with a grand flourish, emptied the contents across the floor, to the cheers of the reinvigorated hedonists. The sounds of perversion soon began once more.
Another orgy. Another season. Had there ever been any doubt?