He knew it. Since a long time, Banshee had known that his fate was waiting for him, there in the far Skaven lands.

It was turn 2 of the second half, and the Screamers were heavily pressured, after a dorf blitz had caught them off-guard. Rookie James Brown dodged away, ready to screen of a potential blitz on his Captain. But Banshee pushed him away, "Run forward - he said - Victory is all that matters!". James had a bad feeling about it, but he did as Banshee said.

And then the inevitable came, filthy dorf Olgrim Anvilbeard charged in the Mad Legend, hit him with an elbow to the head, right where his skull had cracked twice. That did it, the splooshing sound that followed was horrible and mesmerizing at once. The crowd went loud, in aesthatic screams of joy and horror. Banshee's brains splattered all over the pitch.

It was the long awaited downfall of a legend.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Coach Uedder Street stood, he kept looking at the small bottle in his hands.

"It's all my fault - he thought - I should've given him the magic potion."

He knew, if it hadn't been for his previous injuries, Banshee would still be alive. But what is done cannot be undone, and Banshee knew well what he was going at. Now the only way to pass on his legacy was to win and keep winning.

At least they had saved his remains from the filthy rats, who had stormed the dugout to steal it, to run some crazy experiments on his corpse. But his teammates had fought for him one last time Max had went berserk and slaughtered anyone who got next to his fallen brother, while Chris kept on tackling droves of rats. Finally, Robert grabbed Banshee's body, leapt over the crowd and ran it to safety.

Uedder Street unfolded the letter Banshee had left him, as Banshee the first had done before him, to read upon his death. The Coach cleared his throat and started reading.

"If you read this, I'm dead. Don't mourn for me, for I lived and died the way I wanted to, and that's all that matters in the end. I'm proud I could share the fights of a lifetime with you, my brothers. One thing I learned wearing this mask: we are more than pawns, we are more than wandering freaks, we are more than individuals and more than players."

Coach Street took a dramatic pause.

"We are Screamers! And what it means is to fight until our last breath, against all odds and against all foes, to prove our legacy. The Madness we live by is our legacy, we live to prove the world that Blood Bowl is not just about numbers and stats, it's about something else, something words can't define, and that 'something' that's who we really are.

Do not mourn for my, my brothers, for I lived and died a Screamer, and that's all that matters.
Pass on my legacy to the ones who will come after me, and may the Mad Screamers rise from their ashes, harder and stronger, as we did so many times before.

We will meet again and play some more in the starry field of the universe.
Live Madly, Die Screaming.

Your friend and brother,
Banshee the Second."

A Long shattering scream broke the night. All Screamers and their fans, and many others screamed for Banshee one last time. Together, proving his legacy was not lost.

Farewell, fallen hero. May your scream be forever heard.