TEAM BIO

In the final valley before the Great Maw live the Lazargh tribe. Spiritual ogres steeped in the wisdom of the butcher and the law of the maw. They dress in sack cloth and disdain worldly possessions. Their only concession to vanity being to hammer great rocks into their gums as and when their teeth rot away due to their proximity to the Great Maw. A ancient, simple, Maw-fearing tribe...

... and a really awful place to be gnoblar. The Lazargh don't have stuff! No trinkets, no broken weapons or discarded armour. All the lovely, shiny treasure that makes a gnoblar glad to be alive!

After many years of living in gnoblar poverty (that's really poor) it was a gnoblar known as Mawson who finally growing bored of fighting over interesting shaped stones and hardened Rhinox droppings, came up with 'da big plan'.

Mawson's most prized possession was his 'amazing hat'. A odd, bowl shaped thing which he had stolen from a cart that had fallen foul of bandits and been left to rot in the inhospitable mountains the Lazargh call home. Mawson had no way of knowing that in reality his 'amazing hat' was a deflated Bloodbowl ball.

Whenever Mawson wore his 'amazing hat' he would have the most strange dreams. Dreams of huge open roofed buildings filled with screaming people. Rectangles of grass covered in strange markings. And blood, so, so much blood. It was in these dreams that Mawson received the message that would change his life. He met a god called Nuffle. Nuffle sung to him a sweet song of elfish shenanigans, butter-fingered pestigors and a terrible ritual called the '2-1 Grind'.

Mawson awoke and knew exactly how the gnoblars of the Lazargh tribe would get the treasure so cruely denied them. They would form a Bloodbowl team.

Keeping the details of 'da big plan' a carefully guarded secret Mawson began to instruct the gnoblars of his tribe in the ways of Nuffle. When to run away and when the rush in. When the put the boot in and when to put the boot in again. All the skills that would be necessary for 'da big plan.'

The ogres of Lazargh looked on in disinterested bemusement as every feast day their gnoblars would split into two large groups and run around a patch of wasteland shrieking and squabbling over a small, round stone. Little did they know that this was 'da big plan'.

After a particularly successful practice game Mawson felt ready, solemnly removing his 'amazing hat' he spoke of how the gnoblars of the Lazargh could finally get their hands on all the brilliant, shiny stuff they truly deserved... They would form their own Bloodbowl team and set out into the world to challenge other Bloodbowl teams. A nervous murmuring broke out among the gnoblars. So much so that a nearby orgre was forced to rip out a stone tooth and throw it with much force at the noisy gnoblars who hurriedly fell silent. Especially the one who the stone tooth directly hit.

Mawson carried on. They would form a team and they would set forth. Win or lose it didn't matter. Because at Bloodbowl matches there would be people called 'da fanz'. 'Da fanz' were people who brought treasure to the match as an offering to nuffle. Bottle caps, nut shells, missing shoes. There was no end to the generosity of the 'da fanz', strange worshipers at Nuffle's temple. The gnoblars would play their game and then when it was over be free to collect all of this bounty for themselves.

A cheer erupted from the gnoblars. Mawson was hauled onto their shoulders and the ogres of the Lazargh tribe watched as a swarm of gnoblars ran hither and yon carrying a gnoblar wearing a deflated Bloodbowl ball on his head.

The next day Mawson and around 200 gnoblars set out into the world. Full of hope, not of victory on the Bloodbowl pitch but of the chance to collect all the junk left behind by 'da fanz'

The ogres of the Lazargh tribe didn't even notice they'd gone. What with gnoblars breeding like... well, gnoblars. And as far as ogres are concerned all gnoblars basically looking identical.

The glorious career of the Stonetooth Swarmers had begun...