I've been on the road for seven cycles of the moon, walking from the Monoliths south of the Sea of Chill. The trees provide scant protection from the falling snow.

I know not where my feet take me, but I do know that I am out for revenge. Those evil rats had killed all my fellow riders. 319 had set out under the command of the great Gurrund Bracxk. We were going to cleanse the south lands of the ratmen scum! Now there is just me. Alone. Walking. Ever walking.

My journey began at the Monoliths, sacrificed my cold one at the Column of the priest Hotek. Offering prayer to allow me to survive long enough to wreck awful vengeance on those disgusting rats. I arrived in Chill Harbor, but I would find no solace here.

Past the Doom Gate and through the Black Forest. The beasts there gave chase forcing me to quicken my pace, faster and faster I ran, like I had never run before. The Black Forest gave way to the plains around the Hag Graif. Would this be the place to find my revenge.

I stayed for half a cycle. I found and killed many skaven slaves who dared to come to the surface of the sewers. This wouldn't satisfy the bloodlust of Khaine. The blood of the lowest of the rat men did not sate my desire for vengeance. To our greatest city I would head. Surely there I would find the sign I was seeking.

With my body on the verge of collapse, I finally sight the triple towers of the Tower of Cold. My breath quickened as I first lay my eyes on her dark towers, the scream of sacrificial slaves echoing down the cold and dark streets. As I stumble to the imposing Gate of Death, a guard pushes me out of the way to allow a seeress of the Cult of Morathi. I fall face first into cold mud.

As I pick myself up, I see a copy of the much heralded Narragond Citizen on the floor. Desperate for news from the world, I pick up the ragged remains of the newspaper and pour over the familiar script.

Flicking my way through the muddied pages, I stumble across an advertisement in a small corner of the paper asking the reader if the desire, fame and wealth by becoming a blood bowl player. All you need is to be able to run and handle a pigskin! Any of Khaine's children could meet those criteria. Bah! Who has time for such frivolities as blood bowl!

I continue to read through the paper, and then I see an image of the hated ratmen. What is this?! I read on and they are being crowned champions of the Fumbbl Cup. Worshipped! Revered! Showered in glory!

IN THE NAME OF KHAINE AND HOTEK! How dare they put those repugnant rats on our pages and revere them no less! This cannot be! I am about to lose my mind, when from the depths of my mind comes a vision. Death, destruction, rats beneath my feet! Yes, I can my revenge on the field of blood bowl.

I tear back through the paper and rip out the address. I shall be a blood bowl player. I shall conquer the arena and rip those filthy rats to pieces on the field, and beat them in a way the world understands!

My feet lead me straight to the Plague Arena, where I am just in time for the trials, or so I am told. I am the only one who has answered the ad in more than a cycle. The place is mine, I shall have my VENGEANCE!