Weekly Waffle #415 – Hopefully not the Emperors new clothes.
Weekly Waffle #415 – Hopefully not the Emperors new cloths. 11th April 2026 Good morning and welcome to the new look Weekly Waffle. I don’t have much of a hobby update for you this week, although I have got some painting time in. Instead this week the update is going to be all about the new look for the site. Something I’ve spent far too much time working on. But to be fair most of that time has been spent getting things wrong and having to correct them. For anyone who actually knows what they are doing there has probably only been a mornings worth of work. But I’m not…
The Halfling Lineman – The Pint-Sized, Pie-Powered Paradox of Blood Bowl
Ah, welcome back to the Chronicles! Grab a stool, mind the crumbs, and make sure your shinguards are securely fastened. Today, we’re descending into the mud, mayhem, and magnificent aromas of the Blood Bowl stadium. We aren’t talking about the high-flying grace of the Wood Elves or the terrifying industrial violence of the Chaos Dwarves. No, today we are honouring the true backbone of the sport, the player who faces down Ogres with a smile, a spatula, and a very short life expectancy. Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for the Halfling Lineman. Picture this: a stadium packed with sixty thousand screaming fans. The air is thick with the scent…
The Biased Referee – The Best Justice Money Can Buy
Ah, welcome back, dear reader, to the grand and muddy spectacle of the Chronicles! Today, we’re stepping off the line of scrimmage and away from the sweating piles of muscle to focus on the most important man on the pitch. No, not the star Thrower or the legendary Ogre. We are talking about the man with the whistle, the striped shirt, and a very large, empty pocket just waiting to be filled with gold. Ladies and gentlemen, keep your voices down and your purses open as we discuss the Biased Referees of Blood Bowl. Picture this: Your star Blitzer has just been blatantly fouled. A boot has made contact with…
The Prince of Thieves – The Rooftop Royalty of the Guild
Ah, welcome back, dear reader, to the shimmering, shadow drenched streets of Venice! Today, we’re scaling the heights of the Serenissima, moving away from the docks and the dark alleys to find someone who treats the entire city like his personal playground. We are diving back into the magnificent world of Carnevale, and today’s spotlight shines brightly on the most charismatic rogue in the Guild faction: the Prince of Thieves. Picture this: A moonlit night over the San Marco district. A group of heavily armed Patrician guards are patrolling a stone bridge, their armour clanking with every step. Suddenly, a flash of red silk and the glint of a rapier…
Weekly Waffle #414 – The Pint-Sized Powerhouse of Pitch and Pub
Josef Bugman hits the pitch! Weekly Waffle #414 explores Bugman as a Star Player for the Gritty Grumps, his tactical lore, and the new Chronicles site section.
Bonesaw
When we start to look at the grim world of Guild Ball, where every match feels like a battle of wits and wills, there exists a figure who embodies the dark humour and brutal efficiency of the Morticians: Bonesaw. Imagine a player who thrives on chaos, wielding his cleaver with a grin that could chill the blood of even the fiercest opponents. Bonesaw is not just a character; he’s a metaphor for the Morticians’ philosophy, a blend of macabre joy and ruthless ambition. Let’s dive into the lore of Bonesaw, the man who is as much a part of the Morticians’ identity as their shadowy captain, Obulus. In the official…
Graves
In the Morticians’ lore, Graves is exactly what his name suggests — a man bound to the guild through his trade as a gravedigger. He’s not the glamorous face of the organisation like Obulus, nor the sadistic surgeon like Scalpel, nor the screaming banshee like Cosset. Graves is the one who handles the aftermath. Someone has to dig the holes. Someone has to make sure the dead stay where they belong. Someone has to get on with the dirty, thankless work while everyone else is basking in the limelight. That’s Graves. And there’s a quiet menace to him. He doesn’t need to shout. He doesn’t even need to threaten. His…
Scalpel – Cutting to the Core of the Morticians
Brainpan and Memory – Two Players, One Creepy Show
Obulus – Master of Strings
Now we can have a look at what Obulus brings to the table top and a bit of a look at his in game law. There’s a moment, in every game of Guild Ball, where you realise you’re not the one in control. You think you’ve got the ball, you think you’ve got the play lined up, you think you’re about to make the kind of move that wins you the cheers of your club night comrades and a pint on the way home. Then you look up, and you see Obulus smiling that smile. The smile that says, actually, friend, you were never the one making the decisions…
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