Forge

[GALA] Sornieth Winter Games '23


And somehow that's not even how it should have gone... The year before, the clan's main Ice representative had held the reins of the team. He'd gone head to head with the Clan leader for leadership this time, and that's when Sooty had had the idea to get his brother in arms, legs, and other body parts, Forge, to (bog)sneak past and co-lead the team.

It's not as if any of the new members really knew how to play anyway, the previous year had been a disaster, and no one had trained since... Maybe with larger limbs, this time...

The team, half comprised of Ridgebacks, had finally stopped complaining that water, even in solid form, was wet, and had now gone on to point out that it was also cold. They'd lived there for years, how was ice a novelty for them? Sooty was a newcomer, having only joined the clan after their move to warmer climates, but Forge had pointed out that it had always been this way. Except this time Permafrost wasn't pressuring anyone into it, so he suspected they were secretly enjoying the thrill of it. Either that, or the promise of roasted Ghostcrabs and Wetland Ghosts aplenty in the snack tent afterwards was enough of an incentive...

They sure weren't aiming for victory, but one goal, just one goal, that wasn't too much to ask, was it?

As they approached the rink, Forge realised where they'd gone wrong... They should have thought to recruit a Gaoler, preferably one with dyslexia. Surely, out of all those slumbering... Although the breed was, somewhat ironically now that he thought about it that way, better known as keepers.

No, there really was nothing more they could do but get on the ice and hope the combination of brute force and sharp angles would do the trick. Everybody was holding their stick the right way up at least, that was a good start!