Paradigm Shift.

Eadmond Eviring’ton entered the Stadium a hessian sack in one hand and the breakdown of last season’s fiscal year in the other. A down cast look mouldered on his face, he was done with Elves, sure they win games. They win some games before their opposing team has even got their kit on, but the expense my god the expense. Despite winning their last three seasons he was broke, down to his last few thousand crowns. The celebrations after the final last year had required the attendance of countless Nobles, multiple barrels of Ulthans finest wines, a fountain of Breton Champagne and silks everywhere. Eadmond winced recounting the costs in his head.
“I’m done with them, done with Elves” he muttered aloud to the empty stadium.
A brief gust brought the now familiar stench from the dugout Eadmond winced as he neared the team entrance. The smell by Sigmar, it would take some getting used to.
Pushing open the door to the changing room the stench hit him at full force almost knocking him over. Yes the smell would take some getting used to he thought quietly retching. But he should have thought of this sooner.
Forcing himself to acclimatise to the evil combination of musk and urine that pervaded the changing room. Slowly, very slowly a grin started to form on the esteemed managers face.
Why hadn’t I thought of this before, Eadmond returned to his musing, Rats.
I should have thought of this years ago. Rats are like Elves, their fast like Elves, have pointy ears like Elves, no ones gonna notice. The only difference as far as he could see was the lack of upkeep, a few Halfling bones to gnaw on, a corner to piss in that’s all.
No, no one’s gonna notice Eadmond confirmed to himself with a contented shrug especially not with the name, the grin breaking to a smile as he remembered his own genius Paradigm Shift.
What a name, no Rat’s coming up with a name like that. It took all of his managerial nouse to summon, simple yet progressive, synergistic even, it reeks of the ‘core competency’ of elves. Eadmond wasn’t sure about that last one, but he knew he’d overheard it somewhere. Somewhere important, high level and most importantly managerial.
“Boss this ain’t gonna work” Coach Ungar spat as he spoke rudely breaking his managers reverie.
The long time dwarf coach stood in a crumpled mass of papers. Each sheet denoting a beautifully crafted play, a play no doubt well beyond Paradigm Shifts understanding or ability.
Eadmonded regarded the Dwarf surrounded by his new team, he wasn’t happy, but then when is a Dwarf ever happy. Ungar stood broad as he was short, Surrounded by what would best be described as a nest of players.
The Skaven team breefiely peered at the new entrant to the room before their yellowed eyes resumed their endless darting from object to object. My god the smell was truly appalling.
“This ain’t gonna work boss” Ungar reiterated. “I know the name does a lot ‘Parah-dem shift’ brilliant boss, and I know their fast like elves and have pointy ears like elves” Ungar sighed as he reiterated his managers key points from their last nine board meetings. “I’ll also grant you the tail clips in the new kit mask that giveaway. “But boss, Elves ain’t furry.”
A great chortle erupted from Eadmond, his face reddening with self amusement, tossing the hessian bag he’d been carrying onto the changing room floor, Iron clippers rattling out.
“Get shaving Ungar” Eadmond declared purposefully striding out the changing room.
I really have thought of everything ‘Pecunia non olet’ mused Eadmond, rubbing his hands together at the thought of crowns yet to be won.

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