“The silence that hung in the dank air was broken only by the moans of the injured and the slow, repetitive drip, drip, drip of fetid water oozing from the slimy, stone-clad ceiling. Arn Arnson Jr. looked around the visiting team's locker room; which, he observed, could be more accurately described as a damp rat-infested dungeon, buried, as it was, deep within the bowels of ‘Arra ‘Ed stadium. He’d been on the losing side before and knew the sullen silence associated with defeat, but this was different, he could sense something else in his comrades’ reaction… he sensed fear.

This confused Arn, sure they’d lost, he thought to himself, but it was only one-nil and they’d played well in the first half. Added to this he remembered that they’d only been training together for a week… heck, the coach didn’t even know all the players’ names yet! His curiosity got the better of him, he took a deep breath and broke the silence, ‘c’mon guys, lighten up! We were unlucky. It’s not like anyone got killed is it?’ With that last comment the team’s Blitzer, Dancred Dunkel, sitting opposite Arn on a rotting wooden bench glared at him drawing attention to his heavily bandaged head and two black eyes. Just as the Blitzer was about to utter an expletive laden retort about people getting killed the veteran lineman Goldie Schuster cut in, and with a grim face spoke ‘You don’t know about our boss do you son?” At this Arn looked even more puzzled, Thinking about this for a second he answered “The boss? Sure I know about the boss! He’s ‘Crazy’ Joe, I remember him from when I was a kid in the nineties, a real larger than life character. He’s the reason I came to play on this team.” Schuster gave a sad smile and looked down at his boots. Arnson scanned the room and saw all of the team were also studiously avoiding eye contact. Finally Schuster answered, ‘you know he had a lot riding on this game. Not just money, but pride. He wont be pleased at that tactical screw-up we made in the second half, it made him look stupid.’ At this Arn became indignant, “For Sigmar’s sake! One lousy miscommunication in the huddle, that’s all it was! Who cares? What’s the worst he can do? Fire us?” At this comment he felt everyone in the room suddenly recoil at a terrible collective thought. “You’ve never heard the story about the butler and the fourth storey window then?” asked Schuster. ‘Or how he got the name ‘Crazy’?’ added another teammate. ‘Or what happened to the clowns at his kid’s party?’ said someone else with a shudder. Suddenly Arn got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Just as he was about to suggest that it may be preferable to take their chances with the Orcs again the large iron door creaked open. The boss, ‘Crazy Joe had arrived.

”