Development:

Game 6: Took a break (temporary retirement) to sort some family affairs. The Club approves - it's always family first.

Background:

Born in a large swampy city on a small swampy island, the catcher who calls himself Pentalarc began life as a third assistant scribe in a small guild that often hired out to a local temple. Said guild had a commission to transcribe part of the temple's secured vaults, strange and mysterious, often dark tomes from around the world.

Not willing to risk the sanity or loyalty of any of their actually good scribes, they sent their worst, dimmest and least experienced, putting Pentalarc in charge of them, since, despite his skill, he was still expendable.

It was while copying one of these books, that the young scribe first saw reference to the game of bloodbowl. Fascinated, he immediately stole some of the more valuable books, and sold them for safe and comfortable passage to the nearest area with a league.

His academic manners and speech however at best confused the other teams and at worst caused derision as he offered his services. Downtrodden, he made his way to an upper class tavern to drown his sorrows and began a conversation with a group of welldressed gentlemen who, themselves seemed educated and cultured. Imagine his joy when he found out that they were in fact the most recently formed team in the area. Finally a place where he speak with proper grammar and quote philosophers while butting people with a spiked helmet!

(Thanks to to Pentalarc for this story!)