Oh... These sweet memories of times long forgotten... Guarding the goat herds on the mountains at night... Guarding trade missions to Zhufbar in the east, to trade goat cheese… Drinking goat milk and ale after a long day of traveling… Enjoying clan festivities in the circle of rocks that formed the centre of our beloved settlement… Watching the sun set over the flat plains, hills and woods in the west… Knowing that the strong mountains in the east would protect us…

We damn and curse all Haunted Hill necromancers and their pets, the Necromantic Werewolves! They were the start of our downfall. In the first attack by these vile beasts, we found out their thick furs were left almost undamaged by our spears, herding sticks and goat dung shovels. We gathered a big sum of gold and traveled to Zhufbar, this time to not only to trade goat cheese, but to have a powerful Silver Runehammer forged by a highly skilled master runesmith. This runehammer would easily penetrate the werewolf fur and was destined to protect our settlement by the plains, Khazid-a-Gazan.

At the height of our power and might, we swore a mighty oath, in the stone circle of our settlement, empowered by the runes on the hammer, engraved with powerful runes in an oathstone, sealed by dwarven ale and goat dung: To protect the hammer until eternity, never to let it fall in enemy hands, ever to wield it to defend our settlement, ever to cleanse our land of necromantic werewolves. As we made our pledge, lightning struck the hammer! From the hammer it sparked to the circle of rocks around it. A clear sign of approval of our oath by our ancient ancestor Thungni! When the lightning transfered the rune power to the circle of rocks, they became our silent sentinels. Normally asleep, but alive and deadly when our town was under siege.

We were henceforth known as the Barazgrundal, the Oath-bound Hammerers.

But our enemies were smart... When we thought we were safe, while we were playing a friendly bloodbowl match versus a nearby town, our Silver Runehammer was stolen from under our very noses! Which vile creature or evil mastermind could have stolen our powerful artifact? It must have been a sneaky thief. Perhaps a Skaven assassin, hiding in the dark? A rivalling Dwarf clan, their hearts corrupted by chaos? A necromancer that disguised himself by dark magic, and that wanted to use the Runehammer in dark rituals as a source of power? We did not know who stole our precious relic or were it was. But without it, we could no longer properly defend our settlement…

Now, after hundreds of years have passed, our town has almost been forgotten... Its goats ran off, its dwarves died out, its houses destroyed, its hallways collapsed. The sounds of bleating goats and singing dwarves is no longer heard. There is no Dwarf left to witness the wonders of the sunset over the plains. But we, the Khazid-a-Gazan Barazgrundal, still continue. Held to our task by our Mighty Oath, we are forced to continue searching for our lost Silver Runehammer. We know it is still out there! For it's powerful runes are the only reason why our bones did not yet crumble to dust, our flesh did not yet (fully) rot away, and our stone golems are still active. Only when we have recovered our Runehammer we can find our final resting place.

But where could it be? We still suspect it might have been taken by one of the nearby Necromancers. So we should spend most of our searching efforts in the Haunted Hills. However, it might also be in other places... We have to travel the world and investigate all major towns and cities, drink ale in the local bars, and collect information. What better way to get close to seats of power, visit many cities, and put special focus on the Haunted Hills region? What better way, then to form a Blood Bowl team, and enlist it in the Haunted Hills competition?

Our home matches are played in the pitch carved out in the mountainside next to our former settlement. The audience consists of what remains of our band of undying Dwarves, occasionally supplemented by townsfolk that escaped the rule of their vampire counts in Sylvania, and sometimes even by wandering groups of Dwarf traders from Zhufbar. We gladly welcome any supporters to our stadium. Using the coin earned with the blood bowl home matches we can finance excursions to all parts of the world, desparately looking for our artifact.

Y11 Winter	Winter Friendlies Mid	no matches arranged
Y10 Autumn	Clay Division	3/3/1, 3rd place
Y10 Summer	Pleasure Principal	4/0/3, 4th place
Y10 Spring	Haunted Hills	0/1/3, 4th place
Y10 Winter	Winter Friendlies Low	4/0/1, 1st place

Stone golems, rocks from the circle of stones in our town center that came alive	Stone hands, at some point in time broken off from a stone golem
Longbeards, the strong Dwarf guards of our clan turned into undead dwarf	Linedwarfs, regular town inhabitants turned into undead dwarf

	Triple X awarded to Elstok Hillfall for scoring 4 casualties in this match during CIBBL Y10 Autumn.
	Horrific Award won by Max most completions and blocking thrower during CIBBL Y10 Spring.
	Triple X awarded to Vabam Rocksmasher for scoring 3 casualties in this match during CIBBL Y10 Summer.