“Not really famed for winning, more for dramatic and messy draws, it was with no little apprehension that Things I Don't Like took the field. Granted 600ks worth of inducements can ease the harshest of differentials but a team front to back packed with stone cold hitters had left the gobbos quaking in their tiny boots. Things got off to a good start, their fans deciding to chip in to the effort- well it wasn't so much of a chip as a boulder actually and it smashed directly into the furry visage of Nord Frost killing him on impact. The apo, still in the dressing room at this time attending to his (ahem) medical supplies, arrived too late to save him. 1 down, and from thereon in panic seemed to spread like wildfire through the normally ice cool temperaments of the Norsemen.

Cheese got stuck in as only Cheese could downing 2 players and critically restraining another driving his wrecking ball through the heart of the defensive line. The unusually alert trolls did an excellent job of creating a cage through nimble(ish) footwork and the mighty Flatpack Furniture with able assistance smashed a lino into the treatment room. 2 down. The mercenary Fungus also did an excellent job downing a blitzer, after which a foul deeeeeep into T1 sent him packing for the rest of the game. 3 down.

Surprisingly the team also managed to move the ball with a minimum of fuss into the centre of the newly created cage The team pogoer was KO'd as the Norsemen attempted to reorganise defence keen not to engage the Loon but brave enough to knock the fearless Cheese off his feet and hoist him with his own petard (well smash him with his own hefty ball actually). T2 passed more or less without incident save a failed block at the end and a sneaky block as the whistle went which downed the remaining Ulfwerener. The Norsemen were in a quandary at this point. How to defend without leaving themselves open to even more disaster? A courageous blitz backfired when the frenzy attack brought Tarak into the lions den. A lazy and yet hammer like fist ended his ambition (and his breathing days) for good. The cage reformed, the goblins eyes glittered as they surveyed the rapidly emptying field and wondered who might be next.

The chainsaws on the sidelines were being lovingly oiled and sharpened, their owners champing at the bit to get in on the action and urging for a quick score. However they were to be denied. Not even bestowing the earned honour of a single score the fearsome looking Northern Marauders all hairy and trained in the arts of combat turned tail and fled the pitch. Howls of rage went up from the goblin stands and a shower of objects followed the fleeing players as the Goblin team began to comb the field for trophies (Selfies thinks he found a spleen but Naughty Words reckoned it looked more like a squished kidney).

They all took a moment in remembrance of Gerald. and swore vengeance upon his captors the Ranked Invasion Cube 008. Their once bruised and battered bodies now resurgent with the potent force of VICTORY!

”