Clash of Egos – Athloren Arrows


Fenrir strode onto the field like a colossus, head and shoulders above his fellow elves, a champion. Hair shining like a thousand suns, eyes glinting with unprecedented talent, ready to take his new team to…

“Ar thats total squig crap.” Penny Wordsworth puffed out her cheeks, ripped up the paper and long bombed it into a pile of similar missiles in the corner of her office. It had been a long day. Pushing up her glasses she spun on the rickety chair, and gazed wistfully at a poster on the wall.

Fenrir smiled back at her from the pristine poster. Decked in the glorious colors of Olympus Risen, with medals proudly displaying around his neck. She sighed a quiet sigh. Thoughts drifted back to the championship winning game, where from seat Z5 she had watched them rise to victory. Well squinted a bit. A Spike! journalist salary didn’t cover box seats, but at least she was there.

In fact, she was such a fan that a Fenrir tattoo was inked on her left cheek. The celebrating and Bloodweisser after the Championship game had instilled her with supreme confidence. Unfortunately, the artist was an elf hating dwarf, and her tattoo actually said ‘Fatrear’ in elvish. Still, a memento of the game she guessed.

What a game, and what a career so far for a majestic catcher. Yet, here he was back in the CL with…she double checked the team name…Athloren Arrows?

Penny raised an eyebrow. Why was the coach name familiar?


Fenrir strode onto the field like a..


The throw from Longshot came from the other end of the field like a searing meteorite, with accuracy only an elf could produce. Unfortunately Fenrir wasn’t prepared. In fact, it was custom for him to have his energizing stingleaf tea before doing two reps of stretches and a then he might be ready to train.

“What in Orions fraggin spear are you doing?” The new signing yelled. Nursing the growing welt on his face.

“I said go long, but you were too busy lookin at your medals” Longshot replied, shrugging his shoulders with a cocky smile. A few laughs from the rest of the Arrows ruffled Fenrirs fur even further.

“I don’t see any medals on you or anyone else here? And the trophy cabinet looks a cosy home for the mice that have taken residence there. ” The catcher chuckled to himself, then bent down to tie his laces.


This time the ball caught him on the ear, causing a ringing that felt like a black orc had clocked him.

“You know for a catcher you don’t catch well.” Longshot, tightened his glove and went to grab another training ball. Turning his back he had misjudged the distance at which Fenrir could cover. Quickly cover.


The eleven catcher impacted the teams captain with a bone crunching diving tackle, that caused the tangled ball of star players to roll into the light refreshment stand. Blows rained from both players as fists and egos collided in swirling melee. To a wood elf this was brutal, to maybe a Chaos Warrior it was a pillow fight, but whatever. There was blood!

Crossbow gracefully spun in there, the Wardancer separating the two stars with a vice like grip.

“Going into the season injured isn’t going to help anyone, although I was really entertained. ”


They turned to see coach Cav.

“Welcome to the Athloren Arrows Fenrir! I’m sure you will help us win some silverware? You might need the rest of the team though ey? Now run some laps before I set Donk on you.”

Donk stood motionless. The hulking Flesh Golum was still confused after a wyrdstone explosion took out most of Coach Cavs previous team, the necromantic Wyrd Science. Now Donk was the new defensive coach slash inspirational therapist for the team. Roles he was still admittedly wresting with. Donk drooled a bit.

It had taken months for the Coach to locate his Wood Elves after a bender of a festival took them across the old world. Even longer to get them back into shape. They had gone so far west they now had to play in the western conferences. Still, at least the coach was miles away from the crazy owner of Wyrd Science…

“Hey coach!”

The female voice made Cav jump. He turned to see Penny Wordsworth. A now familiar sight every time he signed a big name.

“Celeborn…Longshot…and now Fenrir? How do you keep getting these winning elves to play for your two bit teams?”

Cav sighed. “Donk”

Penny caught a brief glimpse of Fenrir before the massive hand of the flesh golem grabbed her by the scruff of her best overcoat. “I know there is a story! I’ll sniff it out!…get your hands of me you meat head!!”

“Come see us play Miss Wordsworth, i’ll get you a seat in the Z row. Maybe a tattoo.”

There was a long string of expletives to make a norse blush, that perhaps shouldn’t come from the mouth of a lady. But the Coach cared not, and watched the elves train. Could they pull anything out the bag in S18?…


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