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1...2...3...Floor [FINAL VERSION]

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Slammer forced her gritty eyes open and tried to focus. Well, one of them, at least.

Raising her hand to her face she felt the swollen lump over her left eye. Her memory of last night was patchy, but she definitely remembered a fight.....Glancing around the dorm she noticed that she was the only one in the room, and that by the angle of the sun beating down through the window, she was late for practice. Her mouth tasted like Scum had slept in it. 

Of course no one had thought to wake her. Despite the camaraderie and loyalty the Guild's instilled in them, they were still rivals at the end of the day. No-one wanted more competition on the field.

Struggling to her feet she noticed the smell of vomit for the first time. She'd need to clean her kutte before she got to the field or get a beating for not respecting the garment and, by extension, the Guild. The Brewers were forgiving with a lot of the rookies behaviour, but not showing due respect to the kutte was unacceptable.

She stumbled onto the pitch just in time. She squinted over at the stands and saw several of the Brewers first string team had gathered to watch the game. Spigot stood waiting with the ball in the middle of the field looking at her disapprovingly, but said nothing when she neared. Maybe he felt she was suffering enough already. Barely fifteen years old, already she could outdrink most men twice her age, and three times her size. Even so, she had a tendency to push her limits. But where was the fun in staying within them?

Slammer and four of her fellow rookies were handed a blue headband, while the five across from them donned red ones. Tankard, a huge boy with a pinched face and barely a nip of brains in his skull, leered at her. He was convinced that his size and strength meant that the girls in the rooks found him irresistible. Slammer rather fancied putting him on his back, though not in the manner he was hoping.

Reds lost the toss and were to kick off. As they jogged to their respective halves, Gill came alongside her. 'Reckon Tankard has it in for you, Slam. And in more ways than one, I’d wager' he added with a chuckle. 'Aye' she agreed, 'I think it’s time he feels my touch, ay? Feed me the ball, Gill. I've a plan.' 

Jigger from the reds made the kick. The boy's powerful punt made the ball sail deeper into the blue half then he had probably intended, and the match began.

Hop, their fastest player, dashed out to recover the ball, sending it back towards Gill. Gill deftly caught the ball with the inside of his left foot, tapped it to his right and flicked it round the back of his left leg to send it neatly to Slammer, moving midfield to draw attention away from her on the left wing. 

Running forward, Slammer put her hand into her belt pouch and pulled out the first of three small bottles she had stored there before leaving the dorm. Seeing Tankard bearing down on her, she quickly necked the shot and launched the bottle straight at the lecherous bastards face. Despite her swollen eye, her aim was spot on, the bottle shattering across his nose and flinging glass shards into his eyes. As he screamed and clutched his ruined face, Slammer dashed past him, her left hand lashing out to deliver a strike to his crotch and drop him to the ground.

In the stands, she heard Stave let out a bark of laughter that sounded more like one of his barrels detonating than any expression of mirth.

Slammer saw two more red players, Chaser and Rotgut she thought, move to intercept her. Throwing the next measure of her concoction back, she neatly tapped the ball through Chaser's legs and delivered a swift kick to his knee to slow him down. As she turned to face Rotgut, she felt the world start to tilt. She went with the sway, knowing better than to try and fight it, and the wobble carried her out of the way of Rotguts haymaker. Chaser recovered and sent a sharp jab into her kidneys, making her grunt in pain. She rocked into a vengeful uppercut to Chasers chin and sent him to the floor. As she tried to focus on her remaining opponent Rotgut threw another punch, this one catching her on her temple, her swollen eye reducing her view on that side. The hit sent her reeling, but she managed to turn it into a spin behind him, bringing the top of her foot up and into the back of his head, knocking him out cold.

Somehow managing to keep her feet, she weaved past the boys prostrate forms and gathered the ball back up, the path to the goal now clear.

Bringing out the last bottle, she drained the sweet, burning liquid. Feeling the spirit starting to overpower her, and listing to one side, she urgently slammed a shot at the post, and was rewarded with a goal.

As the ball clattered into the post, the worlds insistent spinning overcame her and she collapsed heavily into the dirt. A smile spread across her face, and she slipped into unconsciousness.

Tapper watched the girl fall with a smirk hidden by his fulsome beard. A slight raise of his eyebrow was the only overt expression of him being impressed with Slammers performance. Despite her being unconscious, the blues had no problem capitalising on her 2 take outs and goal. They quickly scored again and ended the training game.The girl was exactly the sort of new blood the Brewers team desperately needed. She could be a real asset, to both the team and Tapper's struggle to retain control of the Guild. 'Though', Tapper mused 'someone needs to teach her to handle her drink'.

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