THE TITANS

The Mountain Titans started off as a group of rabid Dwarf Giants supporters, that travelled to every game, home and away. A veritable orgy of greasy stadium food, strong Bugman's Beer and opposition cheerleaders with low self-esteem, meant it had never crossed the minds of this tight knit group of fanboys to do anything else. The year 2462 was a particular highlight, when the Dwarf Giants won the coveted Bloodweiser Blood Bowl Championship Winners' Trophy, although none of the Mountain Titans can recall very much of what happened over the week long party. It was when the Dwarf Giants faced The Gouged Eye in 2464 that The Incident happened. Making their way to Middenheim Stadium, where the game was to take place, they were in high spirits. Another final so close to the last was vindication of their belief that Dwarves, and only Dwarves should be allowed to play Blood Bowl. They arrived early, found their seats and then returned to the promenade to partake of the local food stalls. The variety at Middenheim Stadium was breathtaking and they gorged themselves silly. Roast mutton wrapped in bacon. Clam chowder with a side of giant oysters. Hamshaw's 'Whitecakes' with Hogstone's 'Bluejelly'. Stomachs full and arms laden with ale, they returned to the stand to watch what would surely be a mighty match. But it was the Gouged Eye who would take the honours that day. Beside themselves with the humiliation of defeat, and suffering the opposing fans jeers in response to their enthusiastic support during the game, they shuffled to exits to join the long line shuffling from the stadium. It was then that it hit. First they thought a Troll had got loose upon the promenade, so loud was the deep, glutteral rumbling. Then one, then another realised it was coming from their stomachs. Suddenly hot, and sweating profusely, the supporters group shuffled from one foot to the other, muttering about the line moving faster. Was it the Roast Mutton? It certainly couldn't have been the 'Whitecakes'... could it? Then a low rumble started, like distant thunder, as the group started burping uncontrollably. The oysters! Rancid sea fumes assaulted the crowd, who had started nervously moving away from the group. Terrible borborygormic noises, like the mating call of a lonely Ogre began to erupt from both ends of the unfortunate Dwarfs. They began to shove their way through the crowd, one hand to push, and one hand clutched to the back of their pants. The crowd reacted angrily, but upon seeing these pale, sweat drenched Dwarves, and hearing what could only be described as the rumbling of a malfunctioning Deathroller emanating from them, they started to let them through. BUT TOO LATE... Suddenly, with the noise of a Bloodthirster hitting a Goblin, a thick, palpable stench assaulted the nostrils of the now fleeing crowd. The Dwarves, wracked with ferocious cramps, collapsed to the ground where they feebly lay in puddles of their own brown shame. For what seemed an eternity they prayed to Nuffle to let them die. When that didn't happened they prayed to any other god they could think of. The Goblin groundskeepers, finally summoning the nerve to approach the source of the pollution, immediately collapsed from the malodorous funk and uncontrollably vomitted. The supporters group couldn't even bring themselves to move out of the way of this tide of fetid green sick. For three nights and two days they lay there, completely unaided and utterly unapproachable. Finally one of them gained the strength to stand. One by one they helped each other up, never looking each other in the eye, and made their way to the river to wash, each knowing full well that they would never, ever be free of the fusty pong. It took years of intensive rehydration with Slaughterade Sports Drink for them to speak a word again (so much so that the drink became the team sponsor) and other Dwarves could not bring themselves to even look into their empty, soulless eyes. Eventually, when they did speak, it was only to swear binding Oaths. A whole page was written in the Book of Grudges. They swore that they would form a Blood Bowl team, and that team would play Blood Bowl. They would play until they were all dead, or until they had won the Bloodweiser Blood Bowl Championship Winners' Trophy against the Gouged Eye at Middenheim Stadium. Whichever came first. They shaved their beards to show their resolve. They shaved their heads to better display their deep and everlasting shame. Then they went into training. It took 56 years for their hair and beards to grow back sufficiently, but in the winter of 2520, the Mountain Titans took to the field.