“How the convict elves laughed when they learned of the next opponent their owners had arranged for them. "Halflings?" exclaimed Dances With Orcs. "Not one of those horrible little creatures would ever get near me; and if one did - why, I would merely swat it away!"

In the corner the coach their malevolent management had appointed chuckled quietly, and continued his haggling with a discount coffin-maker.

Stepped on Grass agreed with his Wardancer team-mate: "We beat up Chaos Dwarves! We ran rings round Khemri! Now you want us to fight Halflings? I thought the purpose of this team was to face dangerous opposition?"

New signing Mistaken Identity was the only elf to voice words of caution: "Haven't you heard of this team? These are the Cookie Crumblers! The meanest, dirtiest, foulingest Halflings to ever stalk the Blood Bowl pitch. They eat Orcs for breakfast, Trolls for lunch, and Storm Giants for supper: then wash it down with a pint of Ogre blood. They are _pure_evil_! And as for their coach … We'll be lucky to survive!"

But no heed was paid to poor Mistaken Identity, who stood on the line, and soon paid the price for his team-mates foolishness and their management's cruelty - although he was one of the lucky few to escape with his life. Stepped on Grass, Branch Breaker, Tuneless, and leading player Blank Verse Poet went to meet their maker, faces unrecognisable with the imprint of tiny boots. Dances With Orcs woke up the next morning with no memory of anything after his majestic flying leap into a pack of halflings.

Shocked, under-manned and dispirited, the Condemned to Death side await news of their next opponent …”