So the nightmare became reality. I spoke about dwarves and dwarves is what I got. From the malevolent mists of some obscure land a pack of short warriors materialized to challenge the Slaughterhouse Gang in the first match of the FUMBBL CUP, and they are so damn skilled that my wrists trembled when I saw their roster. Look at them:

http://www.fumbbl.com/FUMBBL.php?page=team&op=view&team_id=647563

Yep, here they are: little bulky death machines ready to destroy my players, bearded demons hardened by countless battles with the only desire to tear apart every limb of my marauders and feast on the dead flesh of my three big guys.
Not to mention the goblin, a sacrificial victim on the altar of bloodshed and violence, a little innocent destined to perish in a whirlwind of fists and headbutts. You see, I got poor chances to get out of this alive, so I'm gathering you. I need you all. Come to see the match tomorrow, and support me in this suicidal mission. I'll call you the Followers of the Impossible Victory, and you will get my eternal gratitude, and if I win I will pay you a beer someday, that's a promise. If you believe that miracles are possible, if you got sympathy for the weakest, if you hate dwarves and think Chaos should rule the world you have to be there, cheering for those eleven heroes who are gonna put their lives on the stake to enter the legend. Don't disappoint me, my friends. I am counting upon you. Be there tomorrow, check the gamelist, make me feel your support. An epic clash is going to happen. Everyone is invited. Bring booze, chips and something to shield yourself from blood, and enjoy. It will be a great match, I'll play like never before.

See you on the pitch.

Long live the Slaughterhouse Gang.