Ol' Split Claw is thirsting for blood! After his rampage in the first game, it took the entire team to subdue him, before he finally calmed down. The issue was later found in that nobody had bothered to feed him, before the match! Thus, the cretaceous crustacean was beside himself with frustration, as no matter how hard he swung, his limbs never did more than pass through the Haunted Spirits of the Revenge Street Reapers, and the wraiths were too agile to suffer many wounds.
To add insult to injury, all the foes he smacked around regenerated, and rejoined the match on the next drive.

In the Runners' second game, Ol' Split Claw felt the touch of a familiar hand, and resisted his unending hunger for destruction. With exact precision, he sent Xavier Clearwing flying down the pitch, to land on his feet, and run in the first and only Nautican touchdown of that game.

After the second game, he felt a new rage burning inside of him, the team's loss cutting deep, even with his fantastic throw. The next time he has the enemy within his grasp, he'll tear them apart with even more fervor than before.

In his fifth match, he learned that decaying flesh tastes just as good as fresh blood.

Alas, sabotage! Came the cry in the first game. Someone had snuck into Ol' Split Claw's enclosure, and slipped him some drugged meat during his pre-game fast. As a result, the crab's hunger was momentarily quelled, his fury dampened, as he stood in a stupor, whilst the first minutes of the match raged on around him. Nevertheless, as moments passed, the sight of the sharks awoke something deep inside of him. The so-called Alpha Predators of the sea... By rights, that title should be /his/. Wading into the fray, Ol' Split Claw slammed back and forth, effortlessly cleaving his way through the cultist's ranks, eventually landing a punishing blow on a certain Blackfin.

Ol' Split Claw had awoken, and by the gods, they would pay.