Rarakod was the last original member of my first real team, and my 2nd ever legend. He was also my highest-SPP player, and the #1 all time dark elf lineman. Not only that, but he was also a ST4 pomber and all-round badass. He's the kind of elf who grows a full beard and laughs at his smooth-chinned brethren. Over the years, he had gotten a bit slower after a twisted ankle, and a bit less agile after a serious fracture of his C3 vertebra. He got even rougher around the edges, so to speak. Some said he resembled a chaos warrior, more than he did an elf. Still, he did his job with pride, stomping enemies into the ground with abandon.
When, after a 134-game carreer, a fireball shattered his right shoulderblade into three roughly equal-sized pieces, Rarakod knew he would not recover his strength. The Sage told him he could take the next game off for a well-deserved rest, but Rarokod already knew deep down that he was no longer a pointy-eared chaos warrior of doom, but just a slow clumsy bashy elf with a far too high paycheck. He realized that his coach was just delaying the inevitable, so it came as no surprise when coach wanted to meet with him late one night:
S "Rarakod. We need to have a word. In my office, please?
R sigh. "OK, coach"
S "You know I gave you bit of a break, right? You deserved it"
R "Thanks coach"
S Pointing to the sling "So how's the arm?"
R "..."
S "Yeah, I thought so."
The coach takes something from his safe, and locks the door. He places a stoppered bottle on the table "Here, take this." Rarakod looks down at the bottle, a dark blue with strange luminescent bits swirling within.
R "Look coach, blood bowl is my life, but... that doesn't mean I want to die, all right? Really, I'll pull through. I gave it some thought, and with the money I saved, I think I'll buy some more slaves, maybe get into the mushroom farming business."
S "What? You think I'm letting you go?"
R "Well, yeah. Aren't you?"
S "And lose the best Elf basher ever?! I don't bloody think so. You just go and quaff that, and then come on down to the training grounds tomorrow. Oh, and be careful with the concubines tonight; you wouldn't want to break anything."
Rarakod looks down, eyes filled with apprehension. Finding his resolve, he pulls back the stopper and downs the draught in one big gulp. Immediately, he can feel a tingle spreading through his body. As the potion fills the far reaches of his mind and body, his eyes widen. Rarakod stands up, knocking over his chair. He pulls off the sling, and smashes his right fist into the table, leaving a big dent in the hardened oak.
With a mighty yell, he roars: "
I'M BACK!"