There were thousands of them. Armoured guards held back the clamouring crowds as Head Coach Stonefist marched through. He put a hand up to his brow to wipe away sweat and dust, then he smiled: a dead dwarf could not sweat. Why did he keep forgetting that?

The team HQ building was new and made from clay-fired bricks. Servants were bustling around completing endless tasks like the ticking of so many clocks. One of them brought him a tray. On it was a steaming mug of tea and a flagon of ale.

'Ah, thanks lad,' the Stonefist said grinning. 'I'll take both.' He downed the ale and took the tea to drink as he walked.

Behind him, Elzebar, his tiny gnome advisor, cleared his throat.

'My lord, we should probably head out to the training ground. I think you need to meet our newest signing.'

'Ah, of course. The KPL draft mummy. Lead on Elzebar!'

They walked through the foyer, then through a grand room being readied by an army of busy workers in white overalls. Soon, they were outside again. The merciless heat baked everything; Nehekara was no place for the living. Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the light. Then he saw it.

If the Stonefist could breathe, his breathing would have stopped. If he could gasp, he would have gasped. An evil grin came over his face. He downed the hot tea and lashed the clay mug into the stone beneath his feet.

'My gods Elzebar, he is a monster!" Stonefist whooped.

Back in the land of the living he had coached a mummy of unparalleled strength for the Cryptic Humours. After matches, the Bretonnian crowds would flock to watch it lift caravans above its head or rip oak trees out of the ground with one hand. It was called Muncher and much munching did it do. But the creature on the pitch before him seemed even more terrifying.

Elzebar handed his master a signed contract but the Stonefist screwed up his face as he saw the length of it. Elzebar sighed inwardly and handed him a crib sheet with the main facts spelt out in basic Dwarfen runes.

'Hmm, it used to be an ogre... Hence the strength... Gods! A ball and chain is fused to its arm?!'

Stonefist moved quickly (for an undead Dwarf) as he scurried closer to the training pitch. Holding up a hand to block some of the sun he realised exactly what the mummy was doing.

Set up in large stacks were columns of red brick, left over from the building works. The mummy, a spinning-top of destruction, was whirling around the pitch swinging a huge cannonball affixed to a chain. It slammed into the bricks and Stonefist felt the ground shake.

Elzebar caught up with his master.

'It's beautiful,' the Stonefist said, a little choked up. 'I'm going to call it Cruncher.'

Elzebar looked at the ground awkwardly. He wasn't really used to this side of his master. The Dwarf cleared his throat suddenly.

Gruffly, and with a grin, Stonefist said: 'Well, my lad. We're going to need money for bribes!'