Right then, here are the player pics for my new EEL Super 4 team the Nordland Craghammers. If it isn't blatantly obvious from the outset: the emphasis is on sheer, unadulterated manliness. After the pics comes a lovely little story for the brand new year.





Stonefist stormed into the main office.

'This is absolutely outrageous,' the Dwarf screamed. For once, the wretched little gnome hadn't heard his master stomping down the rutted path. There had been no time to find a suitable hiding place. 'Whose idea was this?!'

The gnome could only manage a tiny squeak. Those bastards, he thought - that old Dwarf Thori and the new guy - they've left me to deal with this on my own.

'Sir, you wanted some team photos done,' the gnome stammered. 'Something for the programmess. Somewhere cold, you said. Somewhere in the North.'

Stonefist hurtled forward, grabbed the gnome by the throat and lifted him off the floor. Elzebar's spectacles fell from his pointed, little face. Secretly, the gnome thanked Sigmar for this little gift as it meant he didn't have to stare into the whites of his master's cold, dead eyes.

'I'm going to try not to hit you, my lad. I'm going to try very, very hard. I'm going to set your arse down on the desk behind you, and then I'm going to show you the pictures I've just received by Dragonmail.'

The Dwarf did as he'd promised and then, with a flourish, presented Elzebar with a bundle of papers he'd stowed in his cloak.

'Um, sir,' the gnome piped up after a moment to breath. 'I'm incredibly sorry... But I can't see.'

With a ferocious growl the Dwarf stooped down and retrieved Elzebar's glasses and thrust them into his delicate hands. Elzebar poked them onto his face and pulled out the first piece of parchment.

By Sigmar's shining crack, he thought. Oh, Gods! If Stonefist has a blade on him he might actually kill one of us for this. Elzebar thought he might die after the OWCC incident with the Wood Elves but miraculously he came out unscathed. He still has nightmares after the Human League briefing. There was surely no light at the end of this tunnel.

'Well, sir...' he began. 'You see...' The gnome cast his mind back to a few weeks ago when the photos had been taken. Let's see, let's see. The Cryptic Gemstone Tour had decided to join the EEL. They'd signed Norse players. They'd gone on a training tour to get ready for the event. Gods, the booze! The women! By Sigmar's Bacon-lined Belt, the things they'd done! Some of it he remembered, but most he couldn't. He still had a little halfling's knickers in his...

'Let's simplify it for you with a few questions, shall we?' Stonefist spat, interrupting the gnome's train of thought.

Elzebar looked up at his master bleakly. He gulped; he nodded.

'Right. I told you to go to the Norseland to get these pictures taken, didn't I?'

'Yes, sir. You did.'

'In fact. As it happens: I specifically told you to go to Jaarvic to get these pictures taken, didn't I?'

'Yes, sir. You did.' The gnome was shaking uncontrollable and despite his tiny frame he was managing to rattle about so hard that quills and parchment a bone stapler had managed to crash to the floor.

'Despite these requests, in the background I notice a flowing waterfall and a noticeably unfrozen river running along quite merrily.'

'Aye, sir. But it was cold where we were, I promise!'

'Where were you, Elzebar?!'

'We were at Hargendorf, sir.'

'What?!'

'Hargendorf.'

'In the Nordlands?! That's still in the bloody Empire! These lads are supposed to be Norsemen!'

'Well it's North of here, sir.'

'Everywhere's bloody north of here, you idiot. Why didn't you take the crossing to Aarvik?!'

'We missed the boat, sir. I'm really sorry about that.'

'How did you miss it?'

'We were... erm... celebrating one of our pre-season victories.'

The Dwarf sighed and rubbed his temple with a gloved hand. After a moment, he pressed on.

'What the hell are they wearing?'

'Robes, sir.'

'What?'

'They're wearing robes,' the gnome repeated, squinting closely at the images to make sure he'd got his facts right.

Stonefist's voice was low: 'Why are they in robes, Elzebar? Why aren't they in the sodding Blood Bowl gear that cost me a wagon-load of gold coins?'

Elzebar looked at his master and then back at the pictures. He made the sign of the cross and said: 'Sir, well, you see... We were at a spa.'

Stonefist's dead eyes glazed over for a moment. He rocked backwards and forwards in his boots and then, for quite a long time, he scratched his beard. Then he punched the gnome so hard he flew backwards across the length of the room.

He stormed around the desk towards his little employee. Elzebar, a wretched little heap in the corner of the office, was spirited up into the air and pinned against the wall.

'Give my love to my mother,' Elzebar managed to splutter.

'Answer the following questions quickly,' the Stonefist said through clenched teeth, 'or I'm going to feed you to the goblins after I've stuck a warp stone or three where the sun doesn't shine, alright?'

Elzebar squeaked affirmatively.

'I told you to shave them and get their hair cut. Askelson looks like he's about to do a Dwarf Glam Rock gig. Have you sorted them out yet?'

'No, sir. I'm sorry!'

'Get it done.'

'Of course, sir,' the gnome said choking in his master's cold grip.

'Is Tung a wizard?'

'What?'

'Is Skolli Gra Tung a sodding wizard?'

'No, sir. Why?!'

'Er, nothing. The facial hair. Nothing. Get his beard trimmed.'

'Is Storþruma wearing ear rings?'

'I'm afraid so, sir.'

'Why?'

'I don't know, sir. I'm sorry. I think they're his mother's.'

'What the hell is going on with þrumu's chin?'

'Um, it's always been like that.'

'Really?'

'Yes, sir. I'm afraid so.'

'Well, he needs to grow a beard. Quickly. Before the season starts.'

'Right, sir. Got it.'

'Why is Mynt covering his eyes?'

'Uh, we took that photo after the linemen drew straws for LoS duty in the first game.'

The Dwarf smiled at this. 'Good,' he said.

He released Elzebar from his grip and let him crash, once again, to the floor.

'Sort all of this out Elzebar,' he said bitterly. He dusted himself off, cleared his throat and made for the door.

The gnome curled up into the fetal position and said quietly: 'I really must find another job.'