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In ancient times, blood was power, and it was often shed at rituals designed to bring prosperity through fertility. Human sacrifice was rare - it was done only when needed, and then the faithful offered themselves freely to appease the gods and give their body and spirits fully to their people. They knew with utmost certainty that the blood that poured forth from their veins would feed the earth as well as empower the gods, and that their community would thus thrive.

Itzamná, Creator, Lord of All, watched over his people even more than they thought. Every time they offered him blood he was pleased, not at the deaths this brought to Earth, but that it indeed granted him the strength to protect them from the darker gods, and from the ravages of time and mischance. He accepted their songs of blood and fire as right for them and for himself, and so both he and his followers flourished for many generations.

When the invaders first came they seemed to be respectful of the followers of Itzamná, trading and interbreeding and working with them, and thus enriching both peoples. However, when the foreigners realized how much gold had been found and worked in the area, and how much more might yet be awaiting discovery, the venomous serpent of greed took hold of their hearts. They began slaughtering mercilessly, faster than Itzamná could gather his strength, though many gave themselves to him, hoping to fuel his power even as their brethren were killed.

For all his people's efforts, it was not long before there were so few left that Itzamná felt himself grow weak. In a burst of desperate inspiration he drew forth his god-blade and cut his own flesh, scattering his blood in a great torrent on the ground around his most secluded temples. There it sank in, hiding his remaining altars and their treasures from the invaders' eyes even as the rest of his people fell. Great tears fell from the god's eyes as he faded away, his influence and joy in the world forever broken by others' lust for gold.

Decades went by, then centuries... until all but the last vestige of the god's will had slipped away. In a place that was once deep jungle, a band of explorers pierced the thinning veil of Itzamná's disguising magic and discovered a clearing; at one end of it an ancient temple stood, shining in the sun. The explorers were so taken by its beauty and splendor they decided it must be shared. Perhaps a whisper of the old god's magic remained, for they chose to transform it into an arena dedicated to sports both ancient and modern. Before long the converted temple grounds were gathering thousands of patrons, and their awe at its builders, their pleasure at the spectacle, and the sweat - and yes, blood - of the competitors seeped into the ground beneath it.

One night, under the dim light of a crescent moon, the arena's energy had built up enough that the blood of the god awoke. Uncoiling and seeking, it bound itself around the collected raw emotion offered by those who visited and competed at the arena-temple. Aware but not quite conscious, it cast about, seeking a path to motion, and found deep underground the bodies of two of the fallen kings and their guards and servants, ready to be used. It infused them with the energy it had found and brought them to the surface, giving them what semblance of life it could.

Tearing themselves free of the soil, the ancient warriors were at first nearly overcome by their rage at the destruction and death that were all they remembered. As they built up their fury, though, they were startled to feel the last wisps of the spirit of Itzamná flow over and through them, and they realized that so long ago were the pains they endured that it would be despicable to allow themselves to go on a mindless rampage. So they paused and looked about, conferring in their long-dead language, full of wonder at their return from beyond the world they had known. Before long they reached the clearing near which they had risen, and though they were taken aback at first, they were wise enough to know an arena when they saw one. They moved cautiously about, remaining hidden as they waited to discover what occurred there before choosing a path for their future.

Over the years, the old god's followers learned the new language being spoken in the arena. Still they watched and waited, unsure how to interact with a world unlikely to welcome the walking dead... until Blood Bowl was finally brought to the temple. Watching, the old kings were enthused: they saw how the crowds cheered as much for spilled blood as for a successful goal. At last, they knew that they had found the path of their new existence: Itzamná's blood and Itzamná's spirit would guide their hearts and hands to revel in the joyful struggle of the Great Game.
New Team Page Beta
Player Ma St Ag Av Skills Inj G Cp Td It Cs Mvp SPP Cost  
1
Mummy
4 5 1 9
Mighty Blow, Regenerate
+MA, Block, Break Tackle
  18 0 0 0 17 2 44/51 180k
(200)k
 
2
Mummy
3 5 1 9
Mighty Blow, Regenerate
Block, Frenzy, Dodge
  19 0 0 0 15 2 40/51 190k
(178)k
 
3
Wight
6 3 3 8
Block, Regenerate
  1 0 0 0 0 0 0/6 90k
(105)k
 
4
Wight
6 3 3 8
Block, Regenerate
Tackle, Strip Ball
  19 2 6 0 3 0 26/31 130k
(145)k
 
5
Skeleton
5 3 2 7
Regenerate
  0 0 0 0 0 0 0/6 30k
(30)k
 
6
Zombie
4 3 2 8
Regenerate
Block
  6 0 0 0 0 2 10/16 50k
(65)k
 
7
Zombie
4 3 2 8
Regenerate
  5 0 0 0 0 1 5/6 30k
(40)k
 
8
Zombie
4 3 2 8
Regenerate
Kick
  19 0 0 0 2 1 9/16 50k
(65)k
 
9
Zombie
4 3 2 8
Regenerate
  3 0 0 0 1 0 2/6 30k
(40)k
 
11
Zombie
4 3 2 8
Regenerate
  13 0 0 0 2 0 4/6 30k
(40)k
 
12
Zombie
4 3 2 8
Regenerate
  10 0 0 0 0 0 0/6 30k
(40)k
 
13
Zombie
4 3 2 8
Regenerate
  0 0 0 0 0 0 0/6 30k
(40)k
 
15
Ghoul
7 3 3 7
Dodge
  5 0 1 0 0 0 3/6 70k
(75)k
 
13 players  
Coach: SongCoyote Re-Rolls (140k): 5  
Race: Undead Fan Factor: 10  
Current Team Value: 0k Assistant Coaches: 4  
Treasury: 0k Cheerleaders: 1  
Team Value: 1440k Apothecary: No  

Games Played:19 (9/5/5) |TD Diff:7 (25 - 18) |Cas Diff:26 (34/20/9 - 18/11/8)
Last Opponent: Shomer Shabbos!