It all began long, long ago, on an ancient battlefield somewhere in the known world. The battle ended in a grim bloodbath, and both sides slumped beneath the circling vultures on the reeking, gore-soaked battlefield, fickle Madame Victory remaining firmly out of reach of everybody. Mutual exhaustion led to a truce being called, whereupon the leaders of both sides attempted to parley.
As the leaders argued, the ordinary troops fell where they stood, thankful for any respite from the slaughter. Mungk, the leader of a small Orcish band, was sitting with his first sergeant, indulging in his favorite sport of bogey-flicking. Having won this absorbing competition with a deft over-under move, Mungk waved his scrawny companion away. The Orc leaned back, wondering when this parley nonsense would be over so he could get back to the fun of wholesale slaughter. He gazed out over the battlefield, grinning with fond recollection at the piles of Dwarf corpses. Their last stand had taken place in a bowl-shaped depression. At the southern end of this stood a strange silver dome, undoubtedly another of the many ancient constructions left from a previous, more peaceful time. It was against this dome that Mungk now rested his head. Bored with simply sucking his teeth and motivated by a thunderous rumbling in his belly, the Orc began scrabbling in the sodden earth in the hope of finding a juicy earthworm or two on which to snack. His battle-blunted claws hit something hard and smooth. He pulled, but to no avail.
He scrabbled: nothing happened. Then he pushed. Something went in, something else clicked, and finally, something was the side of the ancient building, which slid upwards to let stale, dry air pour from the dark interior. Mungk, who would have been in serious trouble with the washerwoman had he been wearing any form of underwear, gazed goggle-eyed into the glittering hall now revealed inside the dome. Strange armor adorned the walls, peculiar mosaics lined the floor, and at its center, on a great bejeweled pedestal, sat an enormous book… After the parleying leaders of the two great armies had been informed of the Orc's peculiar discovery, they adjourned their sofar-fruitless meeting in favor of this new mystery. Since none of the generals could actually read, however, they were unable to establish much beyond the fact that the building was obviously an ancient temple.
Messengers were dispatched with utmost speed in an effort to find some literate being who could reveal the secrets the dome held. Eventually, a half-blind Dwarf was led up and introduced as an expert in all languages, both current and arcane. The book thrust before his warty nose, the Dwarf sat cross-legged on the floor and began poring through its forgotten secrets. Three days passed, during which time the Dwarf hardly moved from his chosen spot. At last, he was ready to make his report. A podium was hastily erected before the silver temple, and the stunted fellow hoisted up onto it to deliver his findings to the assembled multitude. "This book," wheezed the ancient seer, blinking his heavy-lidded eyes, "appears to be the religious text of a group of warriors who came from a land called Amorica. The book is dedicated to the lost god Nuffle. The head priests of the various sects of this deity, known as coaches, led their bands of warriors into great arena's and attempted to exterminate each other. The object was not, however, violence simply for violence's sake. No! It was in truth of great ritual significance!"
There was a subdued murmur from the crowd as they attempted to absorb this outlandish concept. The Dwarf continued: "A pig's bladder was inflated and carried or thrown from one end of the arena to the other, in an effort to, erm, score. Carrying the bladder over an opponent's end line gave a sect a number of things called points. The battle lasted a set time. At the end, the sect who had amassed the most points was declared the victor. Apparently, you didn't even have to maim all your opponents, although the coaches seem to have encouraged the practice as much as they could. Furthermore, the book also states that Nuffle's sacred number was eleven and that only eleven warriors from each side could be on the field of battle at one time." At this, there was a great deal of shuffling in the goblinoid ranks as they removed their footwear in a desperate attempt to find out just what the number 'eleven' was. Typically, this degenerated into brawling after a Goblin discovered what a great joke it was to keep his boots on and stamp on all his mates' bare feet with his hobnails. Ignoring the infrequent howls of pain, the Dwarf continued.
"This does not mean that there were only eleven members of a sect, or team, as they were also known. Warriors could go off and come on at will, as long as the sacred number was not exceeded. One could also hit an opponent at any time, as long as one did not use a weapon! Nuffle said that one's body was one's weapon, and – although he allowed armor – all weapons are forbidden from the arena. It is also written that the arena for this conflict was a rectangular field, set within a huge bowl!" All eyes turned to regard the shape of the battlefield in which they had gathered, where large squadrons of over-stuffed vultures were making feeble attempts to get airborne again.
"It seems to me," continued the Dwarf in a loud voice to regain their attention, "that Nuffle has seen our dilemma and is trying to resolve it. I suggest that a team is put forward from each side and that our differences be resolved in this fashion." A murmur of assent rippled through the crowd, soon rising to a roar of the agreement; except, that is, from the corner in which the Goblins were standing, since they were all still exploring the intriguing new possibilities of foot-stomping! And so it was that the first game of Nuffle Amorical Football, as it soon became known, took place. A pig's bladder was inflated, much to the pig's consternation we must add. Armour was taken from the temple and placed on chosen warriors from either side. The teams lined up, a shaman 'referee', dressed in fresh zebra skin for the occasion, blew a whistle and the game was away.
There was no proper pitch, no lines, and very few rules, and to this day no-one is quite sure who actually won. There was a suitably large amount of carnage, however, and everyone agreed that they had really enjoyed themselves. The battle was forgotten, and the various sides dispersed to carry the exciting news to their homelands, where every tribe quickly rushed to field a team. It was while those who remained swept up the mess that they discovered a strange green surface just under the bloody mud of the battlefield, a surface engraved with peculiar symbols and lines. The field was scrubbed clean. The workers were hushed, aware of the significance of their find.
At last, the sacred Gridiron spoken of in the Book was revealed. The Dwarf seer, who had adopted the name of Sacred Commissioner Roze-El, after a priest of high standing mentioned in the Book, offered a prayer to Nuffle and began to organize the first sect meeting. His mind burned with plans for the future, plans that would culminate in the toughest sects meeting in a physical offering to the great god – THE BLOOD BOWL!
Three Decades Later
In the small village far to the north the Choas Lord and Captain Of the well know blood bowl team the black legion. Minato Namikaze or as he was called the flash warrior of Tzeentch due to his ability to disappear and reappear everywhere on the blood bowl field. ran to the medical tent of his village the reason for him going to the tent is because of one thing his woman his wife kushina was pregnant and was having the baby right now.
as Minato ran into the tent his gold and black blood bowl armor clanking as he entered. the tent he saw KUshina holding a baby as Minato went close to her and the baby his breath was caught in his throat. "kushina" he said as he stared at the most beautiful woman he had ever seen she was blessed by both Slaneesh and Khorne. also, that was another thing to remember Minato's Village praised not one but all four Chaos gods as Minato rubbed Kushinas red hair blessed to her by Khorne himself.
he kissed her as he took the child from her and held him up. it seemed his son had his father spiky blonde hair with his mother's red streaks in his hair he also had his father's blue eyes. even young his son looked like a carbon copy of his father as he held his son he smiled as he looked at kushina who nodded. and the chaos lord smiled as he walked outside of the tent and held up his son outside of the tent his warriors and village members had gathered around. "MY SON!" he yelled as he held up his son the entire yelled loudly his son cried loudly showing the power of his lungs which just made Minato smile more.
after he took his son back into the tent to his waiting mother he smiled as he gave her back her and his child. "what should we name him" asked kushina as she rocked the boy to sleep. "I was thinking of Naruto it means maelstrom in the language of the Britannia's" kushina smiled as she held up her son "Naruto I like it hey there Naruto welcome to the world," she said as she smiled at her she no Minato realized was the greatness that would be her son.
if any of you have any fantasy OC teams you want in or any fantasy OC girl you want to be paired with Naruto pm me and ill see what you have
