Godsmoot…

Cronos led the band of elves across the wasteland that separated the Craftworld from this new world they had arrived on. There were 10 of them who had decided to join him, to look for a more permanent home on this new land. They had all been unsuccessful in being selected for the Harlequins, unsurprising really given the strength of the team and had applied for leave from the Farseer to look for local opportunities. Naturally this was the official line and the more insidious aspects of his agenda he would keep hidden.

 

The Farseer had seen parallels between the Harlequins and the new team that Cronos was to form. The most obvious being the coach that they would select. The coach of the Harlequins was Coach Thunden, but this was the Thunden from their universe, competent, successful and with an actual idea of what he was doing. Cronos wasn’t the slightest bit fooled by the Thunden from this universe. He’d managed in the leagues for 13 comical seasons and had never come close to hitting the big time. He’d been carried by great teams rather than push them onto greatness. What better cover could he have than the reality of averageness.

 

He’d begun the task of seducing this realms Thunden relatively recently… and been sadly proven right by how simple it would be. Within days he had floated the idea of coaching a glamorous band of Wood Elves from the Craftworld and proving himself better than his ‘other’ self. The human was annoyingly predictable… still he would play the well meaning elfish sap to this bumbling Blood Bowl coach. The rest of the team, some of them knew what the real goal was, some were actually coming with the intent to play Blood Bowl.

 

Within time they arrived at their new home… he groaned when he saw the team name adorning the entranceway to the stadium. Olympus Risen? How crass… is that the best this human could come up with? He couldn’t wait to see his ‘adventurous’ and ‘unique’ game plans…

 

With that Cronos trudged into ‘Godsmoot’…

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