Once upon a time, there were four noble Paladins. They traveled the lands of the Auld world and fought evil and Chaos wherever they found it. There was Paladin Herinous, The bravest and most handsome of the knights. He was always the first to charge in to a fight and would never back down while innocent people were threatened.
There was Paladin Light, the wisest and most learned of the knights. She always came up with a plan to lead the knights to victory and was able to discern evil no matter how well it hid.
There was Paladin Bob, the kindest, gentlest and... thickest of all the knights. Lost in the woods at birth, he was raised by Owlbears and ever since has been aided by small furry animals when in need.
And there was Paladin Sigmar, The strongest, toughest and most determined of the knights. He led the knights through all dangers, personally slew the dragon of Ferchin tower and was known far and wide for his righteous fury.
As the knights grew in fame they attracted an entourage, numerous brave squires, men at arms and a bard called Lovebloom. There was no evil the knights could not overcome, and after defeating all the Daemons of grock wood Paladin Sigmar thought they should rest for a while, and perhaps play a bit of sport.
The knights turned to bloodbowl with passion and determination, gave their all and played with great honor and sportsmanship. There was but one problem. They were monumentally, incredibly, unbelievably shit at it. Like you wouldn't even believe. All of Paladin Lights plans crumpled on every kick-off, Paladin Herinous blitzed once and was immediately gang-fouled, Paladin bob could only cry for help as he was chain surfed from the pitch and Paladin Sigmar was left in the pitch while goblins pass the ball back and forth over his head, mocking him.
The noble Paladins tried for months but at the end of each day all Bard lovebloom could sing were tales of woe. But then one day, while clearing out a deranged cult, Paladin Sigmar came across a strange helm. When he pick up the helm, a voice whispered to him, promising him glory, and the power to rule the world! Paladin Sigmar ignored the voice, and took the helm with him back to the city where the cursed object might be properly destroyed.
However before handing the helm in, the Paladins had one last match to play. They were playing against a team of underfed halflings who had tragically lost both their treemen to moot blight the match before. Paladin Sigmar was cautiously optimistic of a draw. But the Halflings destroyed the paladins, with a battered Paladin light, who might never walk again after the injuries the halflings inflicted, screaming at the referee to do something while almost the entire halfling team jumped up and down on Paladin Bob.
At half time Paladin Sigmar looked over his battered knights and their followers. He almost wept with rage. Then a voice whispered to him. The helm called to him. If he only put it on then he might become a great and glorious champion! Paladin Sigmar wavered. He looked across his team with their faces filled with despair. Then, his gaze came to the tournament calendar. They were facing dwarves next. He cracked.
Paladin Sigmar rushed over to the saddlebags, pulled out the helm and put it on!
The sky immediately darkened, the ground shook and a great surge of magic engulfed the Paladins and their followers. The cloud of magic dissipated and the sky cleared. The crowd looked on and were awed as the Paladins walked onto the pitch. All four Paladins were now seven feet tall and armoured in glorious black. Their squires and men at arms stalked onto the field, their forms twisted and bestial.
Bard Lovebloom became an enormous minotaur, but squealed and ran away into the woods. Paladin sigmar shrugged. They would find him later.
The game ended with the entire team covered in halfling blood, victorious. After sending some of the men at arms to go find Lovebloom, Paladin Sigmar looked to the road ahead.
"Good! You have slaughtered those pathetic creatures and their sacrifice has completed the transformation!" whispered the voice from the helm "Now you can travel north to the wastes! Unlimited power awaits! You shall rule the world!"
"No"
"Ahahahaha...wait, what?"
"I do not care for the wastes. I have another, goal."
"But...Unlimited power! Glory! Treasure! Concubines! Huge armies at your command! Did I mention all the pow...none of this is selling you is it."
"I want something more!"
"What?"
"I want the Crunch Cup."
There was Paladin Light, the wisest and most learned of the knights. She always came up with a plan to lead the knights to victory and was able to discern evil no matter how well it hid.
There was Paladin Bob, the kindest, gentlest and... thickest of all the knights. Lost in the woods at birth, he was raised by Owlbears and ever since has been aided by small furry animals when in need.
And there was Paladin Sigmar, The strongest, toughest and most determined of the knights. He led the knights through all dangers, personally slew the dragon of Ferchin tower and was known far and wide for his righteous fury.
As the knights grew in fame they attracted an entourage, numerous brave squires, men at arms and a bard called Lovebloom. There was no evil the knights could not overcome, and after defeating all the Daemons of grock wood Paladin Sigmar thought they should rest for a while, and perhaps play a bit of sport.
The knights turned to bloodbowl with passion and determination, gave their all and played with great honor and sportsmanship. There was but one problem. They were monumentally, incredibly, unbelievably shit at it. Like you wouldn't even believe. All of Paladin Lights plans crumpled on every kick-off, Paladin Herinous blitzed once and was immediately gang-fouled, Paladin bob could only cry for help as he was chain surfed from the pitch and Paladin Sigmar was left in the pitch while goblins pass the ball back and forth over his head, mocking him.
The noble Paladins tried for months but at the end of each day all Bard lovebloom could sing were tales of woe. But then one day, while clearing out a deranged cult, Paladin Sigmar came across a strange helm. When he pick up the helm, a voice whispered to him, promising him glory, and the power to rule the world! Paladin Sigmar ignored the voice, and took the helm with him back to the city where the cursed object might be properly destroyed.
However before handing the helm in, the Paladins had one last match to play. They were playing against a team of underfed halflings who had tragically lost both their treemen to moot blight the match before. Paladin Sigmar was cautiously optimistic of a draw. But the Halflings destroyed the paladins, with a battered Paladin light, who might never walk again after the injuries the halflings inflicted, screaming at the referee to do something while almost the entire halfling team jumped up and down on Paladin Bob.
At half time Paladin Sigmar looked over his battered knights and their followers. He almost wept with rage. Then a voice whispered to him. The helm called to him. If he only put it on then he might become a great and glorious champion! Paladin Sigmar wavered. He looked across his team with their faces filled with despair. Then, his gaze came to the tournament calendar. They were facing dwarves next. He cracked.
Paladin Sigmar rushed over to the saddlebags, pulled out the helm and put it on!
The sky immediately darkened, the ground shook and a great surge of magic engulfed the Paladins and their followers. The cloud of magic dissipated and the sky cleared. The crowd looked on and were awed as the Paladins walked onto the pitch. All four Paladins were now seven feet tall and armoured in glorious black. Their squires and men at arms stalked onto the field, their forms twisted and bestial.
Bard Lovebloom became an enormous minotaur, but squealed and ran away into the woods. Paladin sigmar shrugged. They would find him later.
The game ended with the entire team covered in halfling blood, victorious. After sending some of the men at arms to go find Lovebloom, Paladin Sigmar looked to the road ahead.
"Good! You have slaughtered those pathetic creatures and their sacrifice has completed the transformation!" whispered the voice from the helm "Now you can travel north to the wastes! Unlimited power awaits! You shall rule the world!"
"No"
"Ahahahaha...wait, what?"
"I do not care for the wastes. I have another, goal."
"But...Unlimited power! Glory! Treasure! Concubines! Huge armies at your command! Did I mention all the pow...none of this is selling you is it."
"I want something more!"
"What?"
"I want the Crunch Cup."