Frankin Speneramon, Dam to the Sands of Time , Chief Executive of Beebeesi, Lord of the 8th Hell, Unliving King of the Hordes of Eastenendas and huge fan of Elf style Blood Bowl.

Queen Beti Speneramon, Mistress of the Damned Legions of the Ceebeebise is truly a Mummy, that is to say despite her somewhat bulky appearance she is a fine figure of a (dead) woman and has her daughter Betty along with the team, much to Franks chagrin.

Being Franks fine concubine is a stressful job, Franks a very demanding Tomb King and requires constant mothering.

The hard word Jessica does means more often than not she forgets to fully adorn her Blood Bowl gear, leaving her slightly less armoured than her fellow bandaged ones.

It had nothing to do with ageing, she doesn't look a day over 300.

Quininamuun , High Chair of Beebeesi, Lord Advisor to the King.

To be honest, Mr Quincy doesn't believe in all this 'PLAY LIKE THE ELVES! I COMMAND YOU AND MY WILL BE DONE' stuff that Frank aspires to, but then he has no fingers left and is perhaps jealous.

With some fine training from Frank, including an inspired session of Pyramid Yoga and some Desert Aerobics Mr Lewis has become incredibly agile for a pile of bones, admittedly his amazing dexterity only barely matches that of your average living person, but it may be that someone can now catch the ball!

With an astonishing display of bony agility Mr Lewis became the proud bearer of the title of First Passer of Beebeesi when he succesfuly threw the ball into the ribcage of Father O'Hara for the teams first completion!

That he deftly plucked the ball from the air after a magnificent pass from a lesser cohort later in the game was not as well recieved, though it led to the Mummies managing to score their first TD from a true 'passing play'.

Uharra, a great Liche Priest of Beebeesi was brought along as his hands were thought to be highly nimble (only really due to the fact he still had some skin...).

In fact, his greatest strength has turned out to be, well, his strength, as after his first game long rotting muscles began to regenerate and while to the casual observer he's no more than skink and bones (mostly bones) theres a couple of mighty biceps in there which make him a highly effective carrier of the ball.

This is a problem for Frank, as Frank demands the ball be passed and Uharra clings on, who knows how this little internal squabble will end.

The liche priest Colloli had big bony shoes to fill , so far his exploits have been unimpresive.

This once fine figure of a skeleton is now more selotape and glue than bones, having been smushed into his constituent parts twice upon the field.

It is with hope for the ancient Khemrian saying 'He who fails at the first attempt, should try a second and if this should fail then the great Sun god should surely smile upon his most devout countenance if he should try a third time for his fortune shall rain down upon thee and grant thee the gods boon'

<most often known throughout the lands of the livign as Third Time Lucky>

Mr Wilson is a bit short for a Skeleton, for some reason he followed the team from Beebeesi and spent his time trying to peer over the fence, obviously cut from a different cloth to the rest of the players Frank at first scorned him, though after recieving some sage advice on more than one occasion Frank told him it was Time to dop the Tools he carried with him and join the team.

Admitedly he was asked to join so he could primarily hold the half time oranges (yes they do) in the dugout but maybe he'll play sometimes.

Somehow, Dr. Jones, an explorer from Somewhere in Tilea (that's the name of the city) not only became lost deep in the jungles of the far south but subsequently died, was raised into a skeletal afterlife and ended up playing Blood Bowl.

It's all very strange, though still the streets of Somewhere in Tilea echo at night to the sounds of a chilling lament sung by the ghost of some woman who noone really seemed to know...

'Dr Jones, Dr Jones, Calling Dr Jones,
Dr Jones, Dr Jones wake up now...'

Mr Conway is really quite unremarkable. Honestly. He's boring.

Mr Barker tried very hard to fit in with Franks obsessions, and for a short time managed to play a little. However, since injuring two little chaps in a single game he has become withdrawn, consumed by guilt and not a little self loathing.

Far gone are the days where Frank would attend the workshop of Mr Barker and indulge in the art of Woodcraft. Many fine spice racks were constructed by the great lord of BeeBeeSi under the Barkers tutelage.

Those days are past now, and the grim future beckons for the peace loving Mr Barker. More emotional nights spent feeling sorry for himself and wishing he could grow long hair to hide his shameful face, hopeing beyond hope that they pass somewhere that sells black paint so he can decorate himself.

He has become what the anciant Khemrians would call Emo'tep.

Little is known about Mr Smith. He is a recent addition to the team, having been recruited from an ancient tomb the followers of Frank came accross in their travels through the so called 'Old' World.

He has two features, and bizarrly only two. The first is his unerving neck cracking habbit, something that irritates many of his colleagues. The second is his bizarre obsession with a man by the name of Mr. Anderson, whom he seeks here , there and everywhere.

Having been a part of the team since the beginning seems to have had no effect on Mr Laurence, he is ot a particularly good Blood Bowl player, at all.