Post by rocketdeath on Mar 9, 2015 2:30:16 GMT
There are not many beings living on this plane that understand the true nature of The Reaper. The Norse believe that he is the overlord of the 3rd level of hell. Many humans believe The Reaper to be the Devil's servant who collects the souls of those who die, The Reaper of Souls they call him. Lots of elves believe the Reaper to be a fairy tale, a story character invented simply to help the lesser races come to terms with their mortality. However, The Reaper is in fact quite real and much more closely related in nature to the major races of this plane than they realize.
Hundreds of years ago on a parallel plane of existence there was a happy and peaceful land known as Quinsaneland. Quinsaneland was a land full of magic, a utopia of sorts. A peaceful race similar to humans, but with subtle features of the canine variety, were the dominant species in Quinsaneland. There was plenty of food to go around for everybody, colorful butterflies as big as eagles filled the sky and the ruling monarchy was fair and good. In fact, everything about Quinsaneland was fair and good. Unfortunately though, nothing can last forever and there must always be a balance.
There was one little boy Quint who did not share the happy-go-lucky temperament as the rest of the Quintfolk. This boy grew up as an outcast to the other children for he frightened them. He lived a solo life as he aged, an omega, separate from the pack. During his ample free time as a loner this boy found that he had an affinity for magic, dark magic and as his body grew up his magic grew as well. One day this boy had captured one of the colorful megaflies, as they were known to the Quints, and he experimented on it. First he sucked all the color out of the megafly’s wings. It no longer looked beautiful as the rest of the species did now its wings looked black and leathery like a bat. Then he turned the megafly’s antennae into sharp horns and the new weight of the horns caused the creatures shoulders to slump, and its head hung low like a vulture. Next, he added claws and sharp teeth to the beast and it swiped at him and snarled. The little Quint had turned something so beautiful into a ghastly unrecognizable monster and he was proud of what he had done.
Something changed in the boy that day. When he turned black the megafly’s wings he had also turned black his own heart. As the creature’s outward appearance had changed its inner spirit had changed as well. This was now an evil little monster and as the megafly changed so too did the boy. He was now an evil monster himself. The creature snapped at him to bite him and the boy reached out with his magic and snapped its weighted neck. The boy looked down at what he had done and then he had an idea. A light bulb went off in his head and he unlocked a new tier of power. He placed his hands out in front of him in the cursed megafly’s direction and he raised the creature from the dead and bent its mind to his will.
As the years went by, the reaper used his necro magic powers and raised an army of undead, laying waste to and blighting the land of Quinsaneland. Eventually he overcame the forces of the living and created a massive realm of darkness and death, earning the title of The Reaper by those minute few that survived and escaped to other realms. For hundreds of years The Reaper ruled his new plane of nightmares, sustaining himself as a liche by absorbing the souls of those imprisoned in their corpses. As a cursed instrument of violence and power, naturally The Reaper loves Blood Bowl. He watched the first half of the Rivendell Invitational and admired the carnage that the dark elves left in their wake.
Suddenly it came to him, he would start a new blood bowl tournament. It would be open only to undead teams. He would send out invitations to the greatest necromages known throughout the many realms and have them raise new teams to display their black regenerative prowess. Never before has there been such a contest. So come now practitioners of death, regenerators of corpses, nightmares of the pitch, raise your teams from their shallow graves to come and do what they do best. Come to The Reaper's Realm and play... Blood Bowl!
Hundreds of years ago on a parallel plane of existence there was a happy and peaceful land known as Quinsaneland. Quinsaneland was a land full of magic, a utopia of sorts. A peaceful race similar to humans, but with subtle features of the canine variety, were the dominant species in Quinsaneland. There was plenty of food to go around for everybody, colorful butterflies as big as eagles filled the sky and the ruling monarchy was fair and good. In fact, everything about Quinsaneland was fair and good. Unfortunately though, nothing can last forever and there must always be a balance.
There was one little boy Quint who did not share the happy-go-lucky temperament as the rest of the Quintfolk. This boy grew up as an outcast to the other children for he frightened them. He lived a solo life as he aged, an omega, separate from the pack. During his ample free time as a loner this boy found that he had an affinity for magic, dark magic and as his body grew up his magic grew as well. One day this boy had captured one of the colorful megaflies, as they were known to the Quints, and he experimented on it. First he sucked all the color out of the megafly’s wings. It no longer looked beautiful as the rest of the species did now its wings looked black and leathery like a bat. Then he turned the megafly’s antennae into sharp horns and the new weight of the horns caused the creatures shoulders to slump, and its head hung low like a vulture. Next, he added claws and sharp teeth to the beast and it swiped at him and snarled. The little Quint had turned something so beautiful into a ghastly unrecognizable monster and he was proud of what he had done.
Something changed in the boy that day. When he turned black the megafly’s wings he had also turned black his own heart. As the creature’s outward appearance had changed its inner spirit had changed as well. This was now an evil little monster and as the megafly changed so too did the boy. He was now an evil monster himself. The creature snapped at him to bite him and the boy reached out with his magic and snapped its weighted neck. The boy looked down at what he had done and then he had an idea. A light bulb went off in his head and he unlocked a new tier of power. He placed his hands out in front of him in the cursed megafly’s direction and he raised the creature from the dead and bent its mind to his will.
As the years went by, the reaper used his necro magic powers and raised an army of undead, laying waste to and blighting the land of Quinsaneland. Eventually he overcame the forces of the living and created a massive realm of darkness and death, earning the title of The Reaper by those minute few that survived and escaped to other realms. For hundreds of years The Reaper ruled his new plane of nightmares, sustaining himself as a liche by absorbing the souls of those imprisoned in their corpses. As a cursed instrument of violence and power, naturally The Reaper loves Blood Bowl. He watched the first half of the Rivendell Invitational and admired the carnage that the dark elves left in their wake.
Suddenly it came to him, he would start a new blood bowl tournament. It would be open only to undead teams. He would send out invitations to the greatest necromages known throughout the many realms and have them raise new teams to display their black regenerative prowess. Never before has there been such a contest. So come now practitioners of death, regenerators of corpses, nightmares of the pitch, raise your teams from their shallow graves to come and do what they do best. Come to The Reaper's Realm and play... Blood Bowl!