Adalbert Liebfleisch was a disappointment to his mother from the day he was born. His first trespass was to spoil her carefully planned and prepared martyrium by being born swiftly and without problems. For years she had imagined how she would suffer nobly for hours in childbirth, and how afterwards she would lord it over her spawn with all she had gone through for it.

Despite this initial disappointment, she maintained an optimistic approach: it, and throughtout her life she continued to refer to Adalbert as it, would mess up soon enough, and allow her to wallow in the glory that is dignified suffering.

However, he proceeded to grow up as a normal, even gifted child. He soon learned to walk and talk, as babies do, but from a very early age he displayed a certain prowess for athletic pursuits, quickly learning to run, and from then on being impossible to catch if he didn't want to be. If his mother called, however, he would dutifully obey.

Her last serious hope of being granted that sacred glow surrounding mothers whose children have hurt them beyond bearing was school, and once again, Adalbert did very well. A smart kid, if not the smartest in his class, then at least in the top half, and skilled at almost any sport you threw at him.

In the end, this became to much for his mother. In a frightful rage, she threw him out to fend for himself at the age of eight, and Adalbert spent months in the gutters of Stahnsdorf, suffering and starving. Then one day, he discovered the delights of readily available, free food at the town's cemetery. Here he revelled in the corrupting forces of the decayed flesh of men, until one day, he met Malefikaro Extrapolatus von SkaryMonk in the cemetery.

The latter had had a fortuitous day in the necropolis, scrounging up spare parts his newest project, a Blood Bowl team, and paid Adalbert a farthing to help him carry the goods home. Seeing that Adalbert was a nimble and dextrous assistant, von SkaryMonk immediately retained his services, both as a pack mule for cemetery runs and as a valued member of the team.

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His mother saw him play, incidentally, not too long ago, and her heart swelled with the proud pain of bearing a son who now subsided on a diet of rotten flesh and had to kill and maim to survive.

Spewn forth from the putrid spawning pools of Ng'Ktarn into the torturous barbed embrace of the many-eyed painfiends.

Sold into slavery in the skull quarries and latched to the throne of Khorne as punishment for tardiness, there to be whipped without cease for a thousand years.

Drafted to the demon armies and mortally injured on the fields of Niflheim, salvaged and stitched back together by the apothecary for Brawl All Stars.

Battered and broken by a thousand matches, finally killed the Flesh Golem Erebus, but torn from the peaceful slumber of sweet death by Malefikaro Extrapolatus von SkaryMonk and forced to serve the Stahnsdorf Gallowgods for all eternity.

Yeah, it's been a rough couple of days for Pikachu...