"You see this ankle?" Deliberate Injury Gambit said, putting one gangly leg on the coach's mahogany desk. "Fifty grand."

"You insured the health of your ankle for fifty thousand gold pieces." the coach replied dubiously.

"Not just the ankle!" DIG beamed, kicking back in his chair. "I get another fifty if my hip goes, seventy five if I crack my skull, a hundred grand for a snapped neck, and if my collar bone gets smashed into dust I collect a cool one hundred and fifty thousand gold pieces!"

"A human could get dead, trying to collect that many injuries." the coach said pointedly, drumming his fingers on the desk.

"If I die? If I die?" DIG exclaimed. "I've got gold up to my eyeballs just for my meat shell, and you think I don't have a policy for if I die?"

"If you die, how will you collect? You can't take it with you."

"Sure, that's what they say, but the Khemri still try, don't they?"

Gentleman Thief is very definitely not the notorious Slashing Chessman of Aba Noir. When the Chessman was stealing the priceless Ruby of San Diengo, GT was very publicly waiting in line at the Troperiffic application booth. When the Chessman pinched the famous painting of Dame Buxmlove, GT was turning in big plays on the practice pitch. And when the Chessman left his calling card in the thoroughly emptied mansion of Baron Welthiman, GT was well documented in the start of his first career game (a respectable performance in which he threw half a dozen blocks, with his very first being a KO of the opposing Chaos Pact Marauder.)

The fact that Gentleman Thief has reputedly been seen selling, gifting, or personally enjoying all of these items is merest coincidence, and when asked about the strange link between these events and his name he has replied with a simple nod, a small smile, and expressed admiration for someone who does their job so very well.

Just before Troperiffic's 50th match, the Slashing Chessman of Aba Noir conducted an anonymous interview for a special Cabalvision investigative team. A shadowy silhouette which bore a striking resemblance to the armor issued to Troperiffic Blitzers spoke from the comfort of an overstuffed armchair in what appeared to be luxurious penthouse suite that Gentleman Thief had paid for himself (after also providing accommodation for the rest of the team at the posh inn.) In the interview, the Chessman artfully redirected any questions linking him to Gentleman Thief, instead expressing his own fanhood of Troperiffic, predicting that the team would win their upcoming milestone match, saying "the dwarves will be quite distracted when their ancestral Chalice of Dumathoin goes missing from the local Dwarven Blood Bowl lodge." The Chessman's predictions were borne out, as word came in the middle of the match that the Chalice was stolen, and the momentum shifted squarely to Troperiffic's favor. Gentleman Thief disavowed all knowledge of the theft after the game, instead preferring to discuss his own remarkable performance in the match, including scoring the game winning TD.

Perhaps the least imaginatively named of Troperiffic's initial squad, Ax Crazy showed up to team tryouts with nothing but a loincloth, a hatchet, and the need for urgent reassurances regarding the team's nondisclosure policies.

Though closemouthed about the specifics (as most Troperiffic players are when it comes to their background,) Big Brother Instinct did reveal that his primary motivation for joining the team was to raise money to help out his little sister. Speculation among the team ranges from medical problems, to drug abuse, to trouble with the Halfling Mafia and beyond, but the only certainty is that BBI lives a life of frugality, saving every gold piece that falls his way.

Big Brother Instinct's Spartan lifestyle carries over to Spartan play on the pitch, though in a different sense of the word. BBI became the second player in Troperiffic history to reach double digit CAS, and he did so in only 16 games, setting a team record along the way for most CAS in a match with 4 notches against the Slann squad Galaxy Hitchhikers.

The recruiter's question was simple: "What makes you qualified to be a Blitzer for Troperiffic?"

His answer was anything but: "I am a mighty warrior from the old shores, a fierce competitor who has traded blows with Norse Berserkers, run through the jungles with the wiliest of Skinks, studied anatomy and armor design with the Goblin Gang of the South and lifted weights with the strongest of Black Orcs! I can smell a ball from a hundred paces and pick it up with my feet! I can crack a Dwarf's skull while flat on my back! I can leap over a Troll and dance around an Elf! I can score more touchdowns than there are Tropes in your index, and inflict more casualties, too! If there's a block to be made, you can be assured I will knock them down! If there's a ball to be fetched, there's no number of tentacles that will keep me from my goal! Pass, catch, dodge or smash, there's nothing I can't do! Just you wait and see; the Legend did not start today, but here is where it will grow! The best is yet to come!"

They hired him anyway, but the Prologue was never truly forgotten.

Some things you'll never live down. Even in an organization that holds the secrets of the past to be the personal business of individual players, it only takes one drunken night on the town celebrating your new career for everyone to know you lost a fight to a girl. Not an Amazon, not an Ogress, just a girl half your height with twice your fight.

You might join the most brutal sport in the world and change your name and entire personality, but some jokes never get forgotten, especially when your teammates get to pick your name.

"New name?" Troperiffic recruitment officer Beleaguered Bureaucrat asked.

"Put me down as Disco Dan, boss man." The lanky young man responded, grinning broadly over his rose-tinted glasses and kicking back in his chair.

"Riiight..." A check went down on the registration form. "Well, the team will need your speed in the upcoming Crown of Sand qualifiers. We'll be issuing you your armor and then-"

"No need, boss man." Disco Dan gestured broadly at his brilliant orange bell bottom pants and mostly-unbuttoned shirt. "These threads have done right by me for years."

Beleaguered Bureaucrat put down the registration sheet, looking askance at Disco Dan. "You are aware that disco is dead, right?"

"Disco can never die, baby!" Disco Dan crowed, jumping to his feet and striking a pose.

"Right." Beleaguered Bureaucrat sighed, checking the "Probable Injury Risk" box on the registration form. "Only the players who listen to it..."

"No."

Shouldn't You Stop Stealing was inspired to join Troperiffic after reading about Gentleman Thief's exploits on the pitch. SYSS is certainly not the same caliber of criminal that nobody can prove Gentleman Thief to be; his rap sheet reads like the career dreams of an ambitious juvenile delinquent. Pickpocketing, forgery, petty theft, extortion, shoplifting; a whole bevy of minor offenses which would add up to substantial jail time if he weren't waiting for the statue of limitations to run out by playing some Blood Bowl.

His kleptomaniac tendencies have not halted on the pitch, however, putting him at odds with most of his teammates (and in harm's way of the stronger players.) When he tried to pick the pocket of team Ogre Trouser Space and found a rather more sensitive valuable, SYSS wound up in the infirmary. He doesn't seem overly daunted, however, even though he is regularly exposed and undefended on the pitch.

Faced with the prospect of facing the Nurgle team Pleasure Box without any reserves, Troperiffic's coach was heard to bemoan "I only want one extra member!" One Extra Member passed his physical mere minutes before kickoff, which understandably left him very little time to choose his new name.

Acquired Situational Narcissism was once upon a time the star Blitzer of the local Blood Bowl team. He was stronger than every other player, could throw the ball farther, and possessed a grasp of the basics that his teammates could only dream about.

Of course, he was also raised by Halflings, so his estimation of his own prowess might be a little off.

Zombie Infectee was nearly denied application due to an unsightly skin disease. However, team doctors were able to verify that his condition, though roughly analogous to advanced leprosy, was noncontagious. Better yet, the assorted sores, blemishes, and lesions were said to reduce ZI's sensitivity to pain, a trait which he claimed would help him stay on the pitch where other meatshields would be knocked senseless. Since his claims were borne out by a demonstration involving Mighty Glacier and a nearby fruit cart, Troperiffic accepted his application anyway.

Pockets are wonderful things. A Blood Bowl player can be reasonably expected to need a sweat rag, eyeblack, brass knuckles, armor rivets, extra padding, mouthguard, groinguard, a copper for the Bloodweiser Babe, a copper for the Apothecary, a copper for the boatman of the Underworld, spare teeth, spare spikes, and/or a resume on hand at any given moment. All of these can be comfortably concealed and carried in the pockets and dead spaces found in Troperrific's standard issue armor.

The team's third Ogre chooses to eschew these options in favor of an outrageously baggy pair of pants.