Coach Pearce and his all Skaven dance troupe, G-Man and Rat Pack, had been three days on the road north from Essics in the southern reaches of the Empire. It had taken that long for the warpstone disco biscuits they consumed in preparation for their latest competition to wear off – the memory of which would take far longer to fade.
They had been attending the annual Strictly Come Trancing rave-off – however their dreams and high hopes of reviving past glories had all ended too soon. The head judge had cut short their routine with the scathing words “…it ain’t ’93 anymore sunshine”, and so it did indeed appear that you could no longer cut it as a cheesy quaver by simply grinning like a loon and throwing some shapes….
It wasn’t long until a group of dejected Goblins and their Troll came shambling south along the same road from Stafforn in the north. After being kicked out by the rest of their tribe following a particularly rambunctious warpstone fuelled bender that even their fellow Goblins considered beyond the pale, it wasn’t long before this motley crew bumped into the Rat Pack.
Very soon a bonfire was lit, some tool broke out a set of bongo drums and the last of the warpstone was consumed. Amid the raucous laughter, goblin fart lighting contests and games of ‘name that sphincter’, Coach Pearce had a rare epiphany (all the more miraculous considering he’d spent the previous hour trying to work out if he could peel himself like a satsuma!). This ragtag bunch of misfits all needed a new purpose in life, and as G-Man and the Rat Pack were looking increasingly like a busted flush, so did he!
In a moment of divine providence, by who else but Nuffle himself as Coach Pearce would later claim, his eyes fell on a rather battered looking painted board nailed to a nearby tree. An arrow pointed in the direction of the nearby town of Wolfen-Hampton, with the following roughly scrawled words beneath:
“Do you like a good scrap and have a casual disregard for your own well being? Have you got some new moves you think the world should see, or just want an opportunity to try it on with a cheerleader? Then form a team and come join the WoWLoF Open Blood Bowl Championship!
*this sign is in no way officially endorsed by the WoWLoF ruling commission*”
As Coach Pearce finished reading this a goblin by the name of Crutch Flossing threw a flask of Coctang sports drink to one of the Rat Pack by the name of Carlton Dance, but missed completely. Carlton went to pick up the drink, but as he did there was a loud clunk from a pressure plate being triggered and a concealed net trap suddenly sprung skyward to envelop it’s prey. Except, there was no prey….. To everyone’s relief Carlton has dodged clear just in time!
That clinched it – for Coach Pearce the epiphany was complete.
Rising from a sitting position with his arms outstretched like a fourth rate messiah, surrounded by the scruffiest group of apostles there ever was, he declared…
“Brothers – from this day forth we shall join together and play…. Blood Bowl – and we will be known as…. The TrapBait Dodgers!”
And so the legend of the REAL one true Underworld Team of WoWLoF was born – HUZZAH!
Coach Gavin Pearce
- Current Team
- Trapbait Dodgers