A traveling banjoist, Reykjavik decided that going alone wasn't going to cut it, so he strapped on some armor and decided to find some other like-minded vikings who wanted to punch people in the face...and also maybe win some games of blood bowl.

Murdyrd spent his youth in constant problems with the authorities due to his affinity towards killing people. In prison, he learned to soothe his murderous urges through the power of the Banjo and has lived by the instrument ever since. When not bloodbowling, Murdyrd needs the banjo at his side at all times to remain harmless. When bloodbowling, the banjo awaits in its gold encrusted case in the dressing room. People know you don't mess with this banjo.

Wulf trained his whole life for the raids that never came. Although he comes from a long line of Nordic vikings, when he finally came of age the last longship of his village dissolved when too many of the sailors were recruited for the Blood Bowl team, "Altheim Convicted Rapists." Stripped of his dreams, he spent several years wandering at loose ends, until he eventually met the coach of the Banjo Brothers. Although Wulf hates Bloodbowl for destroying his dreams of sailing up and down the coast, killing people, and taking their stuff, he agreed to learn how to play the banjo just so he can get on the pitch. He has a lot of anger to work out, and Bloodbowl is a never ending source of ugly faces to punch.

Alvis's banjo always inspired those who listened to it. Unfortunatly, what it often inspired them to do, was riot. Not because the playing was bad or anything, they just enjoyed a good brawl.

During these brawls, Alvis often joined in with his throwing axes. When the agent/coach of the banjo brothers took note of this skill, he signed him up on a exclusive musical contract deal, as well as making him the thrower for the banjo brothers.

Howling Sigmund, never was much good at playing the banjo, he did a fair battlecry though which has kept him on the team. He still likes the banjos as much as the next guy it's just that he can't seem to get the hang of them and when he does get a good tune going the banjo is usually out of tune.

Ingmar has always been something of a prima donna. The other Banjo Brothers hate his "me-first" attitude, but can't deny that he has absolutely magic hands. Ingmar can play banjo notes that haven't even been invented, even when holding the banjo upside down, in his teeth, or behind his back.

He is the reincarnated spirit of Joe Greene, but Odin had a sense of humour and made him a wicked banjo player too. Chills out with the Valkyrie cheerleaders

Arngrim liked to hurt people and play the banjo so when he found this team he joined.

Gary was hired by the band for their last tour to act as a sound technician/roadie, tuning banjos for the less proficient members, re-skinning drums and kicking the band members out of bed when they'd had a hard night on the hooch. When money grew tight and the band made the switch to BloodBowl, Gary found himself locked in on his contract and given the option of playing or being used as minotaur food. His great hope is to pick up a semi-serious injury, sufficient for retirement but not death.

Olaf the Red is a huge, beefy, tuba player. He provides some bass note accompanyment to the cacophany of banjos that make up the bulk of the musicians. Olaf always brings his tuba on the field with him, often using it to bash other players with... his tuba is colored brass, but it's made of steel and he sharpens the edges of the bell so it will cut deeper. He's still trying to figure out a technique for intercepting the ball with his tuba, though.

You can take the minotaur out of the maze, but you can't take the maze out of the minotaur. Like just about every other member of his race, Ghnaarugh lives in perpetual confusion and rage at a world that an unholy synthesis of human and cow was never meant for. His eyes are too forward for the part of him that's a raging bull and his body's too big for the part of him that's a crazed man. Meat tastes horrible to the cow, and grass tastes terrible for the man. There are only two things he can agree a good idea, but only one of which they can agree on in practice; the man thinks the bull's taste in women is disgusting, and the bull thinks the man's attracted to the sick, dying, and horribly mutated. So hitting things is the order of the day.

The Banjo Brothers did not find Gnaarugh. Gnaarugh found them. Sleeping it off, helpless, in a forest. And as the beast pawed at the earth, waiting to charge, the only vaguely conscious bandmember remembered an old story about music soothing the savage beast.

Anyone with the tiniest smattering of woodlore would know for a fact that all such stories were dead wrong. However, on the grand list of Things Vikings Are Remotely Cognizant Of, woodlore comes in at a respectable six thousand, eight hundred and twenty-four.

Gnaarugh was not soothed by the drunken twanging. But he was intrigued. And when one of the band gave him a banjo, he was not above trying to figure out how this thing worked.

His relationship with the band is a tempestuous one; he more or less plays percussion by systematically destroying his instrument over the course of a performance. Any criticism he can even vaguely suspect will earn the band a tantrum that leaves intestines hanging on the walls. But as long as he's let into practices, he'll hang around. And as long as he is given regular Blood Bowl matches to play in, his tantrums are kept minimally homicidal.

Grandson of the famed King Canute, Canute Rock-Knee earned his last name playing junior-league Bloodbowl - his tendency to viciously knee opponents in the groin at every opportunity. The Banjos scouted him as an ideal addition to the team not only because he's norse and already knows how to play, but also because he plays the fiddle - OK, it's not a banjo, but they really don't need any more banjo-players anyway.

"Laughin'" Sven Bennson was once at the top of the Norse charts for his traveling revue, an icon in his own homeland. He was known for his up-beat drinking songs, his romantic drinking ballads and his funeral dirges for those many friends of his who had drunk themselves to death.

One summer his band got hired to play half-time at a Blood Bowl game where they were set upon by an Rat-Ogre who's keepers had failed to feed. Barely escaping the hungry clutches of the big rat, and being the only surviving member of his band, he set out to learn the game of blood bowl to take revenge.

After finally getting through his training and managing to get into a game against the skaven responsible for the demise and digestion of his band, he was called on to the feild just in time to see the ogre trip over his own feet GFIing and breaking its neck, killing it instantly.

Sven, who had for months not so much as smiled, literally passed out from lack of breath from laughing so hard and had to be carried off the field by apothecaries, without a single game under his belt. Deciding not to waste his training, he decided to stay in the game and found himself hired as a blitzer by another group of norse musicians-cum-blood bowl players, the Banjo Brothers.