Weekly Waffle #417 – Blood Bowl’s Mohawked Missile of Mayhem

25th April 2026

The Mojo

I’ve had another good week on the hobby front. Progress has been slow but steady and I’ve really enjoyed my hobby time. On a none hobby front I’m love bike racing, the pedal powered version. And this week they announced the Tour De France Feemi will be coming to the UK for a stage between Manchester and Sheffield.

Both are cities I work in on a regular basis and the announcement was done right opposite our Manchester office. Which as something is a surprise. But a very nice one.

On The Work Bench

I’ve been cracking on with my blood bowl dwarves this week and it’s the turn of the loose cannons. Those crazed, Mohawk wearing Troll Slayers. I’ve never had a dwarf army but Troll Slayers have been one of my favourite characters / units so these have been a joy to paint.

The basics are all the same as last week but i thought i would take a little bit of time to take about the skin tones. I’ve used one of the Foundry paint sets, which I use a lot. But I started with a darker base. Trying to get a little more depth into them.

I like how they have turned out but I think I need to mix things up a little more in the future. My thinking is to go with a much warmer base tone, something with a lot more red in it. And then to push the highlights more.

Don’t get me wrong I like these but something I want to do more of this year is to critique my own work more. But then to actually try and learn from that by trying new things. Not just falling back into the safety of something the works ok. Try to learn things that work well.

But what do you guys think.

Painted dwarf miniature Barundin Bitterbeam, with a long orange beard, in a battle stance on a rocky base.

Painted fantasy miniature of a green orc-like warrior leaping with a large red spiked crest or wing behind him, on a rocky base with tufts of grass.

Back view of a painted fantasy miniature wearing blue armor and yellow shorts, with a red tail and a grassy rocky base.

Painted tabletop miniature of a muscular humanoid with a red spiky mane, blue armor plates, and tan clothing, mid-stride on a rocky, grassy base.

Painted tabletop miniature of a bearded dwarf in teal, yellow, and blue armor, posed on a rocky base with grass; nameplate reads 'Hargin Hardstare'

Tabletop miniature of a muscular orc/barbarian-wearing blue armor, mid-stride on a grassy base, with a decorative shield on its back.

Back view of a fantasy miniature rider in blue armor on a beast, standing on a grassy base.

Wargaming miniature of a tribal warrior or orc with a feathered headdress, blue armor plates, and a weapon, posed on a rocky grassy base with a decorative banner on the edge (text visible).

Painted fantasy miniature of a muscular warrior with skulls, braided orange hair, and blue armor, on a grassy base labeled 'Hargin Hardstare.

Colorful fantasy orc miniature charging forward, armed with a blue-and-gold shield, on a rocky grassy base.

Back view of a painted fantasy miniature: muscular figure in blue armor with a feathered crest, tan shorts, and dynamic pose on a grassy base.

Painted fantasy miniature of a warrior running, wearing a blue and yellow winged helm with brown hair and armor, on a grassy textured base.

Miniature dwarf warrior Barundin Bitterbeam, with a long braided red beard, raised hammer, standing on a grassy base.

Painted tabletop miniature of a rider on a red dragon-like creature, on a grassy base against a black background.

Back view of a fantasy miniature: armored figure sprinting with a blue chest plate, teal gauntlets, and a red energy trail behind, on a grassy base.

Miniature humanoid creature with a tall red crest, blue armor, and beige clothing, standing on a grassy base with a decorative banner nearby.

You can find more Blood Bowl pictures here

Tactical deep dive

Now that we have looked at getting these guys ready for the table. Pull up a chair, grab a flagon of something thick and suspiciously dark, and let’s talk about the finest sight in the world of Blood Bowl. No, I’m not talking about an Elf actually catching a ball or a Halfling surviving a single turn without being turned into a fine red mist. I’m talking about that moment when a vertically challenged maniac with orange hair, no shirt, and a look of pure, unadulterated hatred starts sprinting toward a Chaos Warrior twice his size. We are, of course, talking about the Dwarf Troll Slayer.

If you’ve spent any time around the Dwarf teams of the Old World, you know the drill. Most Dwarfs are sensible, stolid, and frankly a bit boring. They like armor, they like standing in a line, and they like grumbling about how the grass was greener back in the mountains. But then you have the Slayers. These are the lads who messed up so badly in their personal lives, maybe they lost a treasure map, maybe they forgot to polish their boots, or maybe they just accidentally admitted they liked a salad once, that they’ve decided the only way to regain their honor is to find the biggest, meanest thing on the pitch and die while trying to headbutt it.

The beauty of the Troll Slayer in the context of our beloved sport is that while every other player is out there trying to win a trophy or maybe earn a lucrative sponsorship deal with Orca-Cola, the Slayer is just there for the casualty roll. He’s the personification of that one mate we all have who goes to a quiet pub, finds the biggest bloke in the room, and starts questioning his parentage just to see what happens. Except the Slayer does it while wearing bright orange trousers and enough tattoos to make a pirate blush.

Let’s dive into the fluff for a second because it really informs why these nutters play the way they do. In the broader lore, becoming a Slayer is a serious business. It’s a life of wandering, seeking a glorious death against impossible odds. Usually, that means hunting dragons or giants in some lonely mountain pass. But some Slayers realize that the travel costs are high and the mountain air is chilly. So, they look at the local Blood Bowl stadium and think to themselves that if they want to find a violent end, standing in front of a charging Minotaur in front of fifty thousand screaming fans is a much more efficient way to go about it. Plus, the snacks are better.

On a Dwarf team, they are the wildcard. While the Longbeards are the wall and the Blitzers are the tactical edge, the Slayers are the heat-seeking missiles. They don’t care about the ball. In fact, if a Slayer accidentally picks up the ball, he usually looks at it with a sense of profound confusion, like he’s just been handed a wet fish in the middle of a ballroom dance. To a Slayer, the ball is just a distraction from the real goal: finding someone to hit, and then hitting them again until someone stops moving.

When you put them on the tabletop, you really start to feel that “do or die” energy. The first thing you notice is that they don’t wear armor. In a game where everyone else is cladding themselves in spiked steel and thick leather, the Slayer steps out in his birthday suit from the waist up. This is a bold choice. It’s the Blood Bowl equivalent of bringing a knife to a gunfight, but the knife is really angry and has a mohawk. From a gameplay perspective, this makes them surprisingly fragile for a Dwarf. While your Blockers have an armor value that could withstand a direct hit from a cannonball, the Slayer is significantly more prone to being removed from the pitch in a bucket.

But that’s the trade-off, isn’t it? Because what they lack in protection, they make up for with the two most iconic skills in the game for a frantic brawler: Block and Dauntless. Block is the bread and butter of the Dwarf team, making them reliable and irritating to knock down. But Dauntless? That’s where the magic happens. Dauntless is the great equalizer. It’s the rule that says “I don’t care if you’re a ten-foot-tall biological nightmare with horns and a bad attitude; for the next ten seconds, I’m just as big as you are.” Watching a Slayer successfully roll for Dauntless against a Treeman is one of the true joys of the game. It’s the ultimate underdog story, played out by a man who is literally an underdog in terms of height.

Then we have to talk about the Frenzy skill. This is the Slayer’s blessing and his curse, and it’s why he’s the most entertaining player on the pitch. Frenzy means he doesn’t just hit you once; if he doesn’t knock you down, he follows you and hits you again. It’s relentless. It’s the “I didn’t hear no bell” of Blood Bowl skills. But as any veteran coach will tell you, Frenzy is a double-edged sword. It’s the skill that leads to your Slayer charging headfirst into a crowd of angry Orcs because he just couldn’t help himself. It’s the skill that leads him right off the sidelines and into the waiting arms of the crowd, who will proceed to tear him apart while you watch on in horror.

Playing with a Slayer is a lesson in controlled chaos. You want him on the edges, looking for those juicy Frenzy traps. There is nothing more satisfying than using a Slayer to surf an opponent’s star player off the pitch. You line it up, you make the first hit, you follow up, and boom—they’re gone, lost to the fans, while your Slayer stands on the touchline looking smug. But if you miscalculate, if you forget that he has to follow up, you’ll find your Slayer isolated and surrounded. And remember, he’s not wearing a shirt. He’s going to get hurt.

The role of the Slayer in a Dwarf roster is often misunderstood by new coaches. They see the name “Slayer” and think he’s their primary killer. He’s not. He’s actually your primary psychological weapon. The very presence of a Slayer on the flank changes how your opponent plays. They have to stay away from the sidelines. They have to worry about their Big Guys getting tied up by a 100k gold piece nutcase who refuses to back down. He’s a tactical piece that dictates movement. He creates a “no-go zone” because no one wants to deal with the inevitable double-hit coming their way.

And let’s be honest, there’s a certain aesthetic joy to them. The models are always the best in the range. You get to paint orange hair, which is a nice break from the fifty shades of metallic silver you use for the rest of the team. You get to try your hand at some tiny tattoos that look like a toddler’s crayon drawing when viewed up close, but from three feet away, they look like ancient runes of power. They bring color and personality to a team that can otherwise look like a collection of very angry tin cans.

I’ve seen games won and lost on the back of a single Slayer activation. I once saw a Slayer take a flying leap at a Griff Oberwald who was inches from the goal line. He needed a miracle on the Dauntless roll, a miracle on the dice, and he had to avoid the “Both Down” result that would have cracked his unarmored skull. He nailed it. Griff went down, the ball went loose, and the Slayer spent the rest of the game standing over the greatest player in the world, probably calling him a “tall, fancy-pants poser.” That’s the dream. That’s why we pay the gold.

Of course, the other side of the coin is the Slayer who fails his first block of the game, rolls a double skull, gets armor-broken by a Snotling, and spends the next fifteen turns in the casualty box thinking about his life choices. That’s also part of the Slayer experience. You have to embrace the variance. If you wanted a safe, predictable game, you’d be playing with more Longbeards. You buy a Slayer because you want the drama. You want the mohawk. You want the chance to shout “Slayer!” at the top of your lungs while your opponent puts their head in their hands.

Every league has that one Dwarf coach who treats their Slayers like gods. They give them names like “Grom the Grudge-Bearer” or “Ulli One-Eye,” and they keep a meticulous tally of how many Big Guys their Slayers have toppled. These coaches don’t care about the scoreline. They could lose 3-0, but if their Slayer managed to put a Minotaur in the infirmary, they’ll walk away from the table with a whistle in their step and a grin on their face. They understand the true spirit of the character. It’s about the hunt. It’s about the sheer, glorious stupidity of it all.

The interaction between the Slayer and the rest of the Dwarf team is also quite funny when you think about it. Imagine the pre-game talk in the locker room. You’ve got the Dwarf Runner explaining the complex tactical plays and the importance of ball security. You’ve got the Blitzers discussing defensive formations. And then in the corner, you’ve just got two Slayers eating raw onions and sharpening their foreheads. They aren’t part of the plan; they are the plan’s chaotic insurance policy. When the careful, slow, grinding Dwarf drive inevitably stalls, you send in the Slayers to break the deadlock by breaking some ribs.

If you’re thinking about starting a Dwarf team, or if you’ve been neglecting your Slayers in favor of more “reliable” options, I implore you to reconsider. Yes, they are reckless. Yes, they will probably die or get seriously injured in a way that makes you question your tactical prowess. But they are the soul of the team. They provide the narrative. Without them, a Dwarf team is just a slow-moving wall of iron. With them, it’s a story of redemption, orange hair dye, and the occasional miraculous tackle.

The Troll Slayer is the ultimate expression of what makes Blood Bowl great. It’s a game of high stakes and low comedy, where the most serious of intentions, regaining lost honor through a glorious death, can be undone by a trip on a blade of grass or a particularly stubborn Halfling. They remind us that while the math of the game is important, the “rule of cool” is even more important. And there is nothing cooler than a Dwarf who has decided that clothes are optional, but violence is mandatory.

So, here’s to the Slayers. May their Dauntless rolls always be high, their Frenzy follow-ups always be successful, and their Mohawks always remain perfectly spiked, even after they’ve been trampled by an Ogre. They might be short, they might be unarmored, and they might have a shorter life expectancy than a chocolate teapot in a furnace, but the game would be a lot quieter and a lot less orange without them. Next time you’re on the pitch, give them the ball? No, definitely don’t do that. Just give them a target, point them in the right direction, and enjoy the show. It’s the Dwarf way, after all.

The Wrap Up

That’s all I have for you this week. I’m out to see a friend’s band tonight so I don’t think there will much hobby time tomorrow. I will be back next week with more blood bowl and I continue to line up future projects. The mojo is flowing well at the moment and I’m going to enjoy it while’s it’s here, a bit like the weather.

I hope you all have a great weekend and I hope to see you all back here again. Same place same time next Saturday morning.

Red Rose Wargaming

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