Xeno was amongst the first of the apostles to gather around Poogy's leadership, and whilst not being averse to violence in the least, Xeno is also a deeply contemplative Troll. Before joining Tiny Green Wrath Xeno developed a philosophy that attempted to prove that motion itself was an illusion. Despite constructing many convincing arguments to support his view he was nevertheless subject to intense ridicule by the philisophical circles amongst his brethren. As such he sought refuge under the banner of Poogy as he knew that no sane Troll would dare risk inviting the anger of such a deadly and powerful being. Nevertheless as a true philosopher Blood Bowl is secondary to Xeno and he will often stop in the middle of a game to contemplate a thought, or to speculate on whether any "motion" or "action" that he might take would in actuality have any affect at all.

Since Xeno's near death experience at the hands of an orc he has become a little more sure that actions may have consequences. Whether or not they take place in reality or merely in the perception of Xeno's mind, he is not sure, but nevertheless he is aware that when people attack him it SEEMS to hurt alot. Following this theory he is testing the effects of actions by attempting to injure everyone he comes accross, sacrificing the far superior skills of break tackle and guard for favour of the poverty stricken but more hurty skills piling on and multiple block.

Despite his misleading name, Fuzzy Wuzzy Smoodgie Woodgie is in fact a violent and intimidating opponent. - Ma -Ag = retirement? NEVER!!! Fuzzy embraces the pain. He LIVES the pain. He sleeps at night dreaming of the line of scrimmage, and wakes each day strapping on his kneck brace and replacement kneecap with glee, praying each moment will pass with swiftness until he can plant his decreped, mangled cleats on the glorious pitch once more. No enemy's vice-like grip is too strong for Fuzzy's fragile skeletal structure, nor any steel gauntlet-covered fist too hard for his tiny, squishy face. Fuzzy will continue his career until his smiling, blood soaked corpse is dragged off the pitch, and even upon that very day he will have instilled a common feeling of mild regret in the hearts, nay the very souls of the enemy

Causer of Minor Inconveniece is the only heretic of the team. Despite his constant assertions to the contrary, in secret he can be found drawing pentagrams and lighting those crazy little dribbly candles that you always see when any respectable evil worshipper goes about his work. The diety that he prays to is not Poogy's, but the lesser god of irritation; Jam Jar. It is not widely known but nevertheless true that Jam Jar is responsible for all forms of irk and frustration that plague the world, whether he is personally involved or not. It is also unknown to most that the containment device used for storing many popular flavours of toast/bread spreads bear the very name of this most evil and nefarious of beings. The common jam jar is often found confounding weak women, embarrassing strong men, and possessing an uncanny ability to slip from the fingers when the first attempt is made to open it. Each common jam jar's transparent, delicious, and innocent-looking exterior hides its numerous curses and enchantments, placed to achieve the effects that are so common, citizens don't even think to wonder why jars are truly so different from other household objects.

By devoting his life entirely to Jam Jar, "Causy", as he is known amongst friends has been blessed with superhuman/(supergoblin?) abilities. Abilities so terrifying that most do not even know that he possesses them. Abilities that enable him to sow the seeds of panic and confusion, nay medium amounts of frustration in the enemy! I dare not write of the evil deeds performed at half time, for fear of bringing attention to myself. Let it just be said that it is not unknown for goblin pee to be found in half time beverages, and fingernail clippings to be found in player's cleats. The wise would do well not to block him, lest they find themselves victims of his terrible work, and be mildly irate for the following drive.

Lithping Thauthage Tathter was amongst the first of the apostles of Poogy. Since his early childhood he has been ridiculed for his speech impediment, which is coumpounded by the fact that he is an avid fan of sizzled sausages, and thusly when he requests "thix thizzled thauthages" he is usually met with hysterical fits of laughter. On the plus side however, Lithping Thauthage Tathter has built up a phonomenal amount of repressed anger as a result of this. If this anger were to be channeled correctly, surely he would be infamous amongst warriors, cleaving a bloody swathe through all who stand before him. Sadly however it is not channeled correctly and so Lithping Thauthage Tathter travels the lands playing blood bowl, and cleaving a bloody swathe through all sausage vendors who stand before him....

In the year of 555 a great Chaos God of Vengeance and Hate descended upon the old world to instill his fury in the body of a great champion of chaos, Porgoth the Destroyer. This mighty and feared chaos warrior was to become the Avatar of the nameless God and through him His divine wrath would spread across the old world. However as a result of some miscommunication from His lesser demons (the secretary was new) and a small logistical error the power and fury was instead instilled in the body of a small goblin named Poogy. Poogy was ten years old at the time the whole thing had a seriously worrying effect on his grades at school.

-update-
Immediately after the famed match against Khemri, where the Wrath wrought terrible destruction upon their enemies Poogy was given the gift of the "block", and was determined not to let it go to waste. Up to that time Poogy had scored no casualties on the field but the next match was to take place against wood elves, and he knew if he ever had a chance to hurt anyone ever, that time was nigh. Unfortunately for the team the reputedly soft and squishy elves turned out to be anything but, and the goblins' originally belligerent plans were somewhat foiled. A chance did come however, when the wood elves thought they would do the star wardancer's young 9 year old brother a favour and let him come on the field and they would all pretend he was the best player ever to try to help him out with his shyness and kind of bring him out of his shell a bit. Poogy saw through their clever ruse however, identifying that his team's success or failure hung on exactly how permanently he could maul this unlikely, but surely magnificent star player. He didn't know much about him other than that apparently his name was: 'This is my young brother take it easy on him okay?'.

Taking him out was sure to be a dangerous task, but one that he could not and would not shirk from. His testicular assault part way through the next drive was blindingly effective, crushingly effective one might say. His victim died within seconds, (most likely for the better) and Poogy thrust his two grisly and somewhat squooshy trophies high, instilling something not so very far from fear, and certainly extreme discomfort in his foes, and causing lots of those short intakes of breath through clenched teeth that people reflexively seem to do.

The name says it all; Dwarven Bane, bane of dwarves everywhere. They hate the little bugger. Oddly enough though there's not really any reason for it. He just seems to be the bane of dwarves. Every time they see picture in a pre-match advertising poster they go crazy, ripping it down, and jumping up and down on it, spitting on it, cursing his name and generally being badly behaved, he just really gets on their collective goats.

There has been some speculation that the reason for dwarves' collective hatred stems from the fact that Dwarven Bane looks a little like a dwarf, what with all his armour and his crazy little goblin beard and his beady eyes. If you looked at him from maybe 30 paces and it was dusk and you had swum in a chlorine pool with no goggles earlier that day and you had an eye infection, acute short-sightedness, and you were red-green colour blind you could easily mistake him for a dwarf.

Strangely Strange Sam is unique amongst goblins for being strange in the strangest of ways. It would in fact seem that he is so strangely strange that he does not appear wierd at all but in fact almost the epitome of normality. If one were to probe his personality even further (doing so at one's own risk) one might find that he is perhaps so bizzare that he is strange in absolutely no way, making him far more abnormal than any other goblin. Defining exactly what is "going on" with Strangely Strange Sam is a dangerous undertaking and many have fallen to a gibbering heap upon examining his psyche in depth. As a result most have learnt to let him remain as strange or extremely normal (whichever is in fact the case) as he is and ignore it as best they can.

One thing of note however is that Strangely Strange Sam does like pickles...

Unlike his gifted and talented brethren, being true to his name, Bob the Completely Normal has absolutely no talents whatsoever. He is possibly the most normal and average goblin ever to grace the old world with his existence. He has the most common name, features, and the most common outlook on life that can be found amongst goblins. This can result in some serious confusion at post match celebrations where it can be ridiculously difficult to discern exactly which goblin, (of the many supporting crowd members that commonly invade the players' locker rooms) is in fact Bob the Completely Normal. No-one is entirely sure whether the team still has the original Bob the Completely Normal but taking into consideration his lack of talents this doesn't seem to matter.

Hamster Crusher, not a name but a title, and at that less of a title than a way of life. HC began life as any other, but upon reaching the age of 9 he realized that the world around him was a fallacy. It started when he discovered that the 'five grains cereal' he ate every morning contained a mere three different types of grains. A shocking revelation to the youngling, his mind could barely cope as he looked around him with eyes anew, seeing past every object, every concept, and seeing that behind every thin illusionary veil of normality is hidden a false truth. A watch has in fact no capacity to watch anything, and nor is it watchable itself for extended periods. Boxes have no capacity to box, or even perform any martial art of note, and shaving foam will certainly not shave of its own accord, nor foam without some serious coaxing.

Driven to a state of seclusion by the madness of the world around him, HC lived as a hermit for 23 years 7 months and 1 day. Upon that day HC was wandering the wilderness in search of a some 'food' when he stumbled upon a hamster. As had become his custom he stopped to reflect upon the hamster, gazing at it's form, noting that it was neither made of ham, nor engaged in the act of stirring. Upon further inspection he concluded that even if it was made of ham and one was to stir it in milk in the effort to de-falsify its existence through the creation of a ham milkshake it would taste terrible. Tasting terrible was an antithesis to the very nature of the inarguably cute and likeable hamster-being. It was at this point that it was revealed to his mind's eye that herein lay the point of friction in the equilibrium of the universe. Were hamsters to be expunged from existence the rest would fall into place; cereals would be made with five grains if they were named as such, boxes would be blessed with the ablility to at least compete at an amatuer level, and shaving foam would first foam itself on the chin and then proceed to carefully shave the areas to which it had been applied.

Upon that blessed day Hamster Crusher founded the monastic order of the Anti-truth Destabilisation Ancients of the Fifth Chi. HC is doubly honoured in being the only one hold the very highest and esteemed rank of Hamster Crusher among his order, and in being its only member. So pure and exclusively dedicated is his secret, deadly organisation. Having trained for years in the art of efficient hamster genocidal techniques (a common enough martial art ) he is one of only two living beings to master the 5 bladed - closed eye - open stone - defecating mantis - reflective chicken - imploding jugular strike. It is armed with the knowledge of this deadly technique that he cuts a bloody swathe through the nefarious hamster population that plagues the old world, and takes to the pitch to punish those that would harbour these terrifying creatures of evil in their very own childrens' rooms.

Slightly Overweight Sally has been on the team for some time now, and whilst certainly being more than "slightly overweight" no-one has quite dared to suggest that Sally change her name to anything more offensive to her. She has a fearsome appearance, and combined with her extremely bad hygene, she is a great asset to the team in terms of intimidation. As the only female member of the team, she becomes especially ferocious on around the 17th of each month, and as such Poogy ensures that Tiny Green Wrath always has a match for these sacred days, much to the fear and terror of opposing teams.

Captain Spanky has an illustrious pirating career behind him, being a retired terror of the shipping lanes of the old world. Throughout the years and with the support of his crew of very untrustworthy pirates, he has been in more swashbuckling adventures than 3. He has in fact been in four. As a result of this he has lost his a leg, an ear, an eye and his maiden raping equipment. After finding himself the victim of a mutiny on his treasured ship, the S.S. Spam Purse, Captain Spanky soon fell to wandering aimlessly, looting, pillaging and wanting really hard to violate all he came accross. He tired of this however and felt directionless, soon after joining Tiny Green Wrath in an attempt to fill the void that seemed to consume his soul. He is a mighty player on the field but is a pirate at heart and as such he can never truly give up his swashbuckling addiction.

Let it be known that no matter how well protected, no buckle anywhere is truly safe from being swashed.

Happy Happy Clem has also in the past been know as Disturbingly Maniacally Happy Clem. This name did not stick with him however as he did not appreciate it, and he had no problems with making this obvious in a most violent way. Features of note include his extremely toothy grin which he seems to bear 24/7, including when asleep...

Of further note Happy Happy Clem has been hitting the books recently. After some intensive training and study he completed his Art of the Boot 101 course and is now the only team member to have been officially bestowed the title "A Fouling Little Bastard"

According to the inescapable laws of the universe created by the lesser god of irritation, any player who learns the skill "dirty player" will immediately become god-like on the field, and soak up every spp for the next 537 games. And so it is that his skills sky rocketed to the point where he now rivals the team captain Poogy for power and prowess, making the decision to lay the tactical boot or refrain ever so much more agonizingly difficult.

ps - Happy Happy Clem uses McLeans new fresh twin power combo toothpaste. It combines the cleaning power of a paste with the minty freshness of a gel. It is available at any store near you for the low low price of 15 coppers.

Like Yun-Ji-Yong, Replacement #13 was another victim of Poogy's lack of imagination. The rest of the team hasn't really noticed but Replacement #13 is developing a brooding discontentment at his brethren for being treated like a number. He is currently considering transferring to a team that can offer him both low interest personal loans and personal service....

Yun - Ji - Yong came to the team at a time when Poogy was in a very unimaginative mood. Originally the troll joined the team with no name, but after some training sessions it became obvious that he needed one. Sadly Poogy was in a rush at the time of the naming and couldn't think of anything creative. And so it was that Yun - Ji - Yong was named after a random korean girl that Poogy knew. Uh or even um... an eastern part of the old world? or maybe a part of the old world that coincidentally spoke a dialect similar to what we might call Korean? Anyway since that time Poogy has wanted to change Yun - Ji - Yong's name but discovered that although team members' bios may be edited, their names may not. Oh uh I mean, ah........ ah yes. Ah Poogy discovered that the troll had become accustomed to the name and besides they had just had their shirts printed with the names and numbers on the back and it was non-refundable, and though the tailoring company did do alterations the stitching in the back where the name was would take too long to redo, and the girl who normally did it had already gone home to her grandmother's house for the weekend, and the team wasn't exactly rolling in cash to buy a whole new one as they had just shelled out a bazillion gold to hire the troll in the first place, and the company only did bulk orders. So they kept the shirt. He kept his name. Problem solved. Just ignore all that stuff about editing and bios and so on, that's not really there ok? You just imagined it. Maybe you need a rest. (And lay off the beers.)

True to his name Apocalyptic Spoon is truly a threat to the very fabric of the universe. Becoming sick of knives and forks early on in his childhood he was quickly convinced of the great superiority of the spoon when compared to other convential cutlery and weapons. Thusly he takes to the field armed with his Deadly Apocalyptic Spoon of Fury and wields it with such conviction that he instills at least mild confusion and some snickering amongst his foes. He holds no quarter....

ps - The reason you can't see his spoon is because it's invisible. Apocalyptically invisible.

Body of a goblin, mind of an elf, Limpleaf the Gay is amongst the happiest of his kind (hence the name), and though he was christened Stabkil the Vicious, the name did not stick. Early on in his development he took to making daisy chains, writing poetry and had a liking for turtle-necks. An abberation amongst his kind he was loathed and feared. His room was draped with purple linen, guarded by mysteriously sparkly plush toy beasts, and adorned with posters of David Beckham, clearly the trappings only the most powerful of sorcerors could ensorcel. And so it was that he was cast out from his village, with only his bright yellow happy scarf, and Lion King pyjama bottoms to shield him from the savage beasts that roamed the land.

Not to be discouraged however it was on that very day that he swore an oath that he would not rest until he avenged his father's death.... Uh... he would not rest until he brought the love and peace that he found within his heart to all of the old world. He cast off his old name and began life anew as Limpleaf, finding a sense of comraderie in the elves of the wood that like him were so happy and gay. And so he wandered the old world, organising charity events, adoring puppies and generally having a wonderful time, eventually crossing paths with Poogy and his team of expertly trained, finely tuned killing machines. Poogy was repulsed by Limpleaf, retching at his hideously pretty visage, and gagging from his intolerably pleasant stench. Poogy knew instantly that this meeting was preordained since before time began, or at the very least since before breakfast this morning, and that it was his unholy duty to corrupt this happy little goblin, thereby ending the terrible curse placed upon him. For if left to his own devices even in death his body would blight the land with pansy flowers, carnations and those cute little pixies you always see with twinkly stuff following them when they fly around.

Limpleaf the Gay is by far the happiest member of the team, and is resolved to play bloodbowl so that he may convince everyone else that the best game is a game where everyone plays nice, and everyone can feel good by letting each other get lots of touchdowns, and by not hitting each other, and everyone should hold hands on the line of scrimmage.