World Cup 63 RP Thread

[Yesopalitha]

Nirdasil's Corner

Welcome, Jing Wang, to international football. Sorry that Sir James started three youngsters before you, and glad that five other youngsters scored four goals so that you giving up two wasn't the end of the game. Not really sure myself if Handel's interesting take on resting his starters will work out better or worse for the Flames, but I suppose... as the old adage goes, only time will tell, eh?

Legokiller. A team that shouldn't be any kind of a problem for the Flames, pounced on early with two goals, as Wang looked dazed out there with Tern, Peirot, and Briollet not doing a decent job at all guarding her.

Thankfully, Jacques Kemp and Park Sung Hwan came to the rescue, along with Clarence Patterson, Justinian Marquette, and Kelly Vanasse. The midfield scored two goals, and assisted on two others by the Captain for this match - Nadya Dostoevich - as the Flames ultimately did prevail, 4-2.

The Flames are the only undefeated team left in Group 11, as Megadia lost for the first time to fall to 4-1-0.

Next up, the Flames will go away to The Pazhujeb Islands. Megadia and Equestrian States still loom in the horizon. Time to start the starters again, right, Sir James?

I don't even know with the way he's calling it these days. Disgraceful, I reckon...

[Mytannion]

OOC: continued from Part One.

---

Part Two.

I spent a while in Esca, looking through the minutes of meetings that Taras Kasprzak had to sit in on and listen to, noting down what was said and basically keeping tabs on the political groups that were basically seen as ‘undesirable’. Obviously this didn’t really reveal anything about Kasprzak’s personality or his beliefs but it did show what kind of man he was. He was meticulous, there was no detail missed out, everything was noted – from what the speaker was wearing to what sort of mood they were in, if they were sweating, showing nerves or whatever else. Everything was covered, this carried through to when he was in power, dealing with his enemies, every angle was covered when they were... ahem, ‘disposed of’.

After I had looked through the stacks and stacks of paper though, I knew I had to find someone else, someone who was actually sat in one of the meetings of these so called ‘dangerous’ political groups. Someone who eventually may have become an ally to Kasprzak even if he never really knew their name or knew who they were or indeed actually knew that they even existed. I needed more information really, that was the pure and simple thing, after all, I was trying to find out more about the man who brought full-scale communism back to Mytannion after it had been the system once and failed, under the Tolikist regime.

This led me to meet a man who was a bit younger than Taras Kasprzak, almost a generation behind the man who would eventually come to power. He went by the name of Arho Lykkula – he always insisted this was his real name but I always had my suspicions about this and after a bit of digging discovered that this was an alias of his, I will not reveal his real name unfairly but safe to say ‘Mr. Lykkula’ had a very colourful past, including spells in prison and similarly to Kasprzak, time in the army – although this was when Kasprzak was in power.

Lykkula was difficult to find actually, he lived in the Votavova District of Esca and stated that he was aged 41 and admitted that he had been in trouble in the past for football hooliganism. He was actually quite a clever person, when talking to him, but when he was young he received the normal, sub-par standard of education that everybody of his generation had if they were not of a certain stock. If you weren’t born into the higher classes, you would be stuck in a manual job. Hard labour would pretty much be your life and there was no real way out of this until social reforms under Kasprzak occurred in education and of course healthcare too – but that is for another time.

Arho informed me that he had attended meetings of the WPP (Working People’s Party), for about three months before he had began to notice this man who was there, noting everything that was said in the meetings.

“I was actually surprised that he was allowed to sit in there and note everything down really, I didn’t understand why he was there but I assumed he was just took on as someone to do that job, to detail what was said if anybody needed to go back to it in the future.” Arho told me. “I never assumed anything different, occasionally when I was having a cigarette after a meeting he’d join me and I’d just wave him off, assuming one of us.”

The thing is, Arho talks about Kasprzak as if he was an enemy, someone who had lied to them and almost betrayed them. This was not the case, he used the WPP as a platform for him to eventually go on to get power. This was the party he was named leader of and then changed the name of. I asked what Arho’s opinion was on Kasprzak and then things became clearer.

“Well, once he got in power, things didn’t really change. He said all these noble things about the workers getting more power and rights and actually getting paid according to what they did and so on. But once he was in power, this didn’t really happen, workers were still paid as cheaply as possible to try and strengthen the national economy as much as possible, which it did. People were happy, but only because they were in a strong nation that seemed to be doing well and because they were actually lied to about their wages. They could have been paid nearly one hundred per cent more but they weren’t because they thought they were being paid fairly.” Arho was riled a bit by now, almost reminiscing on what happened as he saw it occurring. “As I watched the system becoming decadent and almost the exact opposite of what it said it would be, I became more and more disillusioned with the ideology. I am no longer a communist, no longer even a socialist. I don’t agree with any of them.”

When I asked what he was he answered evasively.

“A moderate,” he smirked.

A term that nobody really has a definition for in terms of political standing, it can mean anything really, just centrist, it is neutrality on its most basic level.
Kasprzak was almost a pariah to Arho, someone to blame for his own inability to get out of the situation he was in. He was pretty much unemployable himself due to his past scrapes with the law in his youth and so had to join the army when Kasprzak was in power. The army wasn’t the highest paying area, there were so many people willing to defend their country with the fierce patriotism that was drilled into them by the state that wages did not need to be high. The state could afford to pay very little because there wasn’t a high demand for soldiers. Arho seems bitter about the situation and seems to twist the truth slightly to fit his own story and opinion on the matter.

Kasprzak diligently did his job, recording what was said and reporting back to the Army’s Information Department. Even if these were the things he believed in he needed the money he was getting from the job, almost spying on the group that he wished to be a part of. This may have been more of the reason behind Arho’s sniping at Taras Kasprzak and the reason behind the hatred he had for the man, almost.

One meeting, Kasprzak got more than he was banking for. One man was making a speech on social equality and was apparently speaking of how the situation did not need to be radically changed – for if the WPP wanted to actually do anything, they had to moderate their policies in order to appeal to the public who did not want another radical party coming in and either causing another Tolikistesque regime that allowed few civil and political rights. The public also did not want another war, such as the Border War with Swartaz.

Kasprzak had been furthering his own political ideas in the weeks preceding this, this is detailed in his own diaries which are kept by the government and which I was actually allowed to gain access to – although I was not allowed to record any of the details inside them or take photos etc, so most of this is memorised. He had become a little bit more radical in this time. The writing was mainly based around how there would have to be a violent revolution if there was to be any change – something which is quite shocking when you think that the nation was democratic, something that has seemingly rarely ever occurred. I’ve not really noticed a violent revolution against democracy ever, but he did note that the conditions were quite unique in that people lived in quite abject squalor and poverty was widespread, people stricken and often unable to afford even the most basic of items, food, was sparse too as farming techniques were outdated and frost, ice and snow caused problems across the country regularly.

When this man made this speech about moderating the WPP’s policies, Kasprzak could no longer go unnoticed and stay quiet. He apparently stood up, something which was prohibited by the small group whilst speakers were at the podium. The shock was apparently obvious and the atmosphere tense as Kasprzak went on a length speech that argued against the idea that the WPP should be making their policies more populist. The rhetoric was said to have ‘pulled everybody in’ and even Arho described himself as ‘hanging on his every word’.

When he was finished, the whole room stood up in applause, around 70 odd people were supporting his ideas and the man who had initially called for the WPP to moderate its policies was ejected from the party and told not to return. Kasprzak was asked to speak more regularly and to join the party as a full member. He took up this option but did not inform his work colleagues for the fear of losing his job. He also thought he could be of use to the party as he could feed them information on other parties who opposed the ideals of the WPP which could help them to disrupt the other group’s meetings and cause havoc in general.

He would be a useful new member of the WPP and they knew this, if they knew how much more useful he could become for them they may have asked him to become a key member earlier on, when he first attended meetings – as he was the one who truly put them on the political map.

[NSCF]

ignore plz

[Old Guard]

Ken Rickwright strode nervously up and down the touchline as his team eased to a surprising victory over Birolika. He did this for two reasons. Firstly, he was worried for the team, and anxious to see them win, although Jeff the Great had just scored their 5th, so he was less nervous now. Secondly, he was watching out for Lord Askain's men who would surely be wandering around looking for him and Iskander by now.

Suddenly, there a man was, clambering through the crowd. And another, and two more over there. Slowly, around the ground, men, who were clearly members of the Old Guard, who were coming for Iskander, and, by extension, him. He hurried over to the team dugout where Iskander and The Spectre were sitting.

"Their here! The Old Guard are here!" he hissed, as he sat down next to them. Iskander momentarily stood up, and looked.

"Tits, they're onto us," he hissed back, worry etched across his face. The Spectre stood up.

"LEAVE THIS TO ME, CHAPS." he said, before striding off into the crowd. Ken wasn't convinced that even The Spectre could sort out these men scattered around the ground, they were too many and too widely spread out. One man was getting close, and still The Spectre hadn't done anything yet. As Ken searched frantically for a weapon, the men tripped over someone drink, knocking it over. A scuffle quickly broke out, between an increasingly large number of the crowd. The unfortunate man was cause in the middle of it. Eventually the scrum broke out across the entire crowd from the top to the bottom of the crowd, hindering the men's progress to them. From the other side of the stand, they could see a flash of light, clearly The Spectre sorting the men out.

Suddenly, a booming voice interrupted the fighting and halted play on the pitch, the crowd falling silent pretty much immediately.

"SILENCE MORTALS"

The crowd was utterly silent, and Ken felt Iskander stand up next to him. Murmurs filled the crowd, some people recognising with amazement the man who now stood before them. Iskander walked out further and turned to face the crowd, smiling slightly. More recognised him, and now there was a wave of excitement and happiness that the rightful leader was back. The voice boomed again,

"ISKANDER THE THIRD, RIGHTFUL KING OF OLD GUARD!" at this applause started, quietly by only a few at first, but rapidly increasing in number and volume. Clearly, this was a people ready to embrace a new leader.

"THOSE WHO WANT TO HELP OUT IN THE REVOLUTION, COME TO THE TOWN SQUARE NEXT WEEK! THANK YOU AND GOOD NIGHT!"

Iskander turned and sat back down, and the crowd bursted into loud conversation, ready to hear what was happening. Ken turned to Iskander who was smiling, and it was he who spoke first.

"It begins."

[Osarius]

((OOC: Posted with the wrong account earlier. My bad))


When you're an aging footballer, being considered a fringe player -- no matter how talented you are -- seems to be par for the course. The absence of Alessandro di Corradi from the Osarius team in the past three games wasn't ringing alarm bells. Not yet, anyway. Amandeep Sahota had displayed an unusual degree of sensitivity toward his plight, and declined to even name the younger di Corradi child on the bench of late. When questioned about the playmaker's condition, he'd lied.

"Alessandro is currently suffering from a niggle that he can't really afford to risk playing with at this stage in his career." The manager had told the press. They didn't see fit to question further. Older players often sat out for extended periods of time with minor injuries. Precaution, they said.

The reality had been a little different, of course. And the truth behind his own reasons, combined with Sahota's willingness to accept them -- and even help cover them up -- had made Alessandro briefly consider how much darker this world was.

"I don't feel well, boss," Alessandro had told him in the dugout before, "I can't explain it."

"It's okay, Alessandro. Take time and recover. If there's anything I can do, you'll let me know, won't you?"

"'Course, boss." A bare-faced lie. He had no intention of talking to anyone about his problem.

Except maybe Dr Bocchetti. But that plan hadn't gone down so well last time he'd thought about it. Blurred vision, sweaty fingers. He couldn't even read the number on her business card, let alone dial it into his mobile phone. He'd since tried again, and the same thing had happened. He'd tried memorising the number, to no avail.

'It's hopeless.' He told himself. 'I just can't do it'

As a child, the world of professional football had looked like a glamourous world. Bright lights, flashy suits. None of this murkiness and moral ambiguity. Malcontent and misdirection. He'd realised over the past few months that the world he'd dreamed of as a boy wasn't a city of crystal with gold-paved roads at all. It was the same as the rest of the world, and smelled worse.

'I don't know how I didn't notice before.' He'd thought to himself. 'How stupid.'

The overnight sports news broadcast was on in the background. Alessandro couldn't hear the words, though. Just a dull buzz, a sort of humming sound. Muffled words from the newscasters. The familiar red, black and gold of Osarius Sports Network and their various panels and banners on screen.

*knock knock knock*

Three sharp raps on the door of his hotel room stirred him from his dazed state. It suddenly occurred to him that he'd still been asked to travel with the team, and had accepted, even though he'd had no intention of playing; 'Why am I here?' he thought, for a brief moment.

*knock knock knock*

There they went again. And a hushed, muffled voice. Sounded familiar. Sort of. Female, probably. Wasn't very low.

*knock knock knock*

What was that knocking sound? It was coming from the door. Probably. 'I should go check that.' Alessandro thought to himself. Halfway between the armchair he'd been slumped in at the foot of the bed, and the door, another thought occurred to him. 'What time is it?' He stopped and glanced at the television screen. The on-screen clock said it was a little past three in the morning.

*knock knock knock*

That bloody sound. And the muffled voice. 'What do they want with me? I'm tired. Go away.' Alessandro wanted to shout, but found he had no voice.

'It's hopeless.' He thought as he flopped onto the bed and closed his eyes. 'Maybe I won't open them again.' He mused.

[Traila]

Official TISN Channel

Another devastating defeat for Traila at the hands of Liventia
bringing us down to 8th place. this hopefully wont be a reapet of last year.
win the first few then lose the rest. Traila better stick up if the're to get ahead.

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

Maria Christensen sat in her chair at the hotel room in Liventia she had done
this year after year, sat in a chair and drank herself drunk. of course she knew she
would be hungover the next day at the game but what did she care. things looked grim for
the team, morale was low. she could here the headlines now back home
"Traila loses again" or "coach loses again debate whether to keep her or not is in the works".

About an hour later...

she sat in the bath. lying still, very still. she put the razor blade on the bath room counter and lied
down letting the water in the tub go red. she was there for half an hour. then she looked over to the picture of her
husband and her son. then the epiphany set she was leaving... but not today. she stood up
walked over to the mirror wiped off the steam, and proceeded to wipe herself off with special sterilization towels which she kept
for special occasions. she put on a nice dress and went to her team. they were gonna celebrate there loss.
why mourn something that happened yesterday. there's a whole new game happening today. why mourn the past.

[Super-Llamaland]

Group 6
Jedi8246 4–3 Darmen
Jeruselem 0–1 Kericia
Carmadin 4–1 Powersith
Pacificius 2–3 Super-Llamaland
Velkomorave 0–2 Cuboneland
CODE: SELECT ALL
Group 6 Pld W D L GF GA GD Pts
1 Super-Llamaland 5 4 0 1 13 8 +5 12
2 Jedi8246 5 3 1 1 13 9 +4 10
Jeruselem 5 3 1 1 8 4 +4 10
4 Carmadin 5 3 0 2 15 8 +7 9
5 Darmen 5 3 0 2 13 11 +2 9
6 Powersith 5 2 1 2 6 6 0 7
7 Cuboneland 5 2 1 2 6 9 −3 7
8 Velkomorave 5 2 0 3 8 11 −3 6
9 Kericia 5 1 0 4 2 10 −8 3
10 Pacificius 5 0 0 5 4 12 −8 0

Kericia upset Jeruselem yesterday, paving the way to an easy first place for the Llamas.
The Llamas don't lead in Goal Differential, but take the more important stat: the point lead.
Meanwhile, Super-Llamaland defeated woeful Pacificius 3-2.

Bobby Crosby kicked off the game in minute six with an easy goal. Crosby's goal was his first in international play.
Trevor Duncan shocked the world by dribbling the ball for about half of the field, turning on the jets at the end for a thirty-third minute score. And while Pacificius fought back against goalie Blake Bennett, tying the game at two apiece, substitute Mark Wayne found the back of the net in a last-second play that was literally last second: timed at 89:13.

Wayne: "That was amazing, I can't believe I did it!"

Next, the Llamas face Velkomorave, ranked #231 to the Llamas' #152. Another easy matchup should see the Llamas' victory again.

[Darmen]

Darmen loses to Jedi8246 by a goal
O'Donahaue blames poor defensive effort, praises Bryan Faulkner for three goal night

As the first real challenge that the All Greens faced, Jedi8246 must've expected a tough night. And they got one too.

Nicolas Hem opened up the scoring for the Wyverns in the 9th minute, striking an absolute cracker of a goal past Troy Osborne. Sam Leon put the Wyverns up 2-0 in the 17th minute, nutmegging Mikael Adan on his way towards goal. Things looked bad for the All Greens early on.

Bryan Faulkner though was one All Green who wanted to win badly. Scoring in the 25th and 33rd minutes to equalise the score, Faulkner had the Wyvers defense scratching their heads. His first goal came as a result of an inderect free kick, which he hammered past Dan Triboult. The second goal came as a result of a corner, Faulkner drifting back to the edge of the box, unmarked, and volleying the ball past Triboult.

The rest of the first half wasn't that spectacular, in fact it was actually quite ugly. Charles Hem was yellow carded for a careless tackle on Gene Turko, and Turko responded a few minutes later with a rather blatant charge on the Wyverns forward, making no attempt at the ball. The Referee immeadiately showed Turko the red card, and Turko recieved a torent of taunts from the fans, and O'Donahaue gave him quite the talking to. Several minutes later though, and just before the Referee was about to blow his whistle for halftime, Charles Hem was yellow carded once again. The double yellow card meant that both teams were playing with ten men, and would be missing two of their most important players for the next match.

The second half started slowly. Nicky Salapu, who has delivered an impressive performance several matches earlier, was substituted off, and replaced by Josimar Son. Son didn't play well at all, and was yellow carded only two minutes after entering the match. Charles Ramirez made his debut for the All Greens, as O'Donahue feared that the All Greens could go down to nine men.

In the 65th minute, Manny Hem rose above the All Greens' defense, and headed home a corner, putting the Wyverns up once again, 3-2. In the 71st minute, Manny scored his second, this one off of a Kris Hutchenson cross into the middle of a box, being volleyed past Osborne. Tim O'Donahaue made his last substitution of the match, replacing Osborne with Kimi Siesman. It was a rather useless substitution however, as the All Greens launched a series of several ferocious attacks at the Wyverns, and the Wyverns never had another shot on goal for the rest of the match.

Only one of those ferocious attacks actually succeeded however, as Bryan Faulkner sent a one timer past Triboult for his third goal of the match, in the 78th minute. It was the final major event of the match, although several shots from the All Greens were close to going in the goal.

Following the match, O'Donahaue was not happy. "It was quite a poor performance, mainly for the back line, and the only thing that even remotely kept us in the game was Faulkner." O'Donahaue planned several changes for the next match against Cuboneland. "Siesman will get the start in goal," said O'Donahaue, as he sighed in disbelief at his team's poor performance, "Vue, Rydzik, and Goodwin will be the back line, while Cormio, Beasley, and Lee will be the midfield. We're going to be playing in a 3-3-4, hopefully that will allow us to score more goals than our opponents. 'Cause, you know, that's how you win games. Anyways, Faulkner, Gregio, Autitore, and Pele will play up front, with Autitore and Pele mainly playing on the wing."

All three defenders chosen for the next game play for Eau Claire Aris, something O'Donahaue hopes will give the All Greens an advantage. "I think it will help with the communication. Obviously you hope that your national team defenders wouldn't have a problem communicating, but from what we've seen, they have. Perhaps it's the rivalry between Scott City FC and Aris that keeps those three (Adan, Nguyen, and Vue) from communicating well."

[Cyborg Holland]

(I'm quite into the whole Law, Crime and Police, so, y'know...)

---

Amzterdam Special Police Department HQ
25 Centralstraat, New Amzterdam

Another warm sunny day crept past without event. Chief Detective Simon Aarle sat with his feet up on his desk, his suited body warmed by the summer sunlight. The small TV in the corner was displaying the latest Buckenheimer Premiership match, live from Kanveer Park. He let himself a brief moment of happiness as his team crossed the line for their fifth try of the afternoon. But, as usual, it was cut short by that short, sharp rap on the door.

Aarle took his feet of the desk and stood up and walked towards the door. He opened it and let in High Comissioner of Amzterdam Maria Heimans. The elderly woman walked in, following Simon to the desk. She dropped a file of papers of the desk and looked glaringly at him.

"What do you call this?"

"Call what?"

"Last week. The crime scene at the deli. The Press got into the actual room. Media figures actually held the murder weapon"

"There were hundreds of them. You know nothing baits the Media like a public crime scene. We left de Boer and van der Beek at the scene, go talk to them"

"You left two junior operatives at the scene of the biggest homicide in 10 years? What were you thinking?"

"Look, ma'am, with all due respect. We had the case wrapped up. The perpetrator was in jail."

"But 8 major news reporters held the murder weapon. It is a PR disaster"

"It is a PR blip, ma'am. We got the killer, and all the victims families are happy with the results"

"OK, any further complaints, reports, interviews. You are taking the heat. 100% of it"

Simon out his hands up in a sarcastic way, shaking his head slowly.

"Of course ma'am. 100%"

The strict woman turned and left the office, leaving the office door ajar. Simon got up to close it, when another man came hurrying through.

"Mr. Aarle, we have our first case of the new year. One death, 23-year old male, side alley by the University. de Boer is already down there, van der Beek and Seegers are on their way from Main Office..."

Simon Aarle = Chief Inspector of the Special Police Department
Max van der Beek = Deputy Chief Inspector
Julie Seegers = Special Police Department Field Agent
Frederik de Boer = (Junior) Speical Police Deparment Field Agent (SPDFA)
Njord Koumans = SPD Technician/SPDFA
Varina Dekker = SPD Media Spokeswomen/SPDFA
Markus Pennerschmidt = SPD Tactical Advisor/SPDFA

Maria Heimans = Amzterdam Police High Commisioner
Guus Redcht = Deputy High Commisioner
Rudolf "Rudi" Roben = SPD Head of Communications

[Hutt River]

"Mr. Lister. Mr. Lister are you okay, sir?" Kryten's voice came from what seemed like far away from Lister's mind.
"What's happened?" said Kochanski, who sounded like she was panicking
"The monkey's fainted", said the Cat. The voices were coming a little closer now. He felt a little shove on the side of his body.
"Is he alright", Rimmer's voice was the loudest of the lot. A blurred view of the surroundings entered Lister's eyes.
"Of course I'm not alright, I've just fainted onto the ground during the middle of the match and I can't see properly. Now can you please get the physio on."
"But, sir. I am the physio. You left me on the bench in case something like this happens." Kryten replied
"Oh, sorry Kryten. Could you please take me off then?"
"Can't see why not sir. Now come on get up, here hold my hand." Kryten extended his right hand for Lister to grab hold of.
"I'll see whether I can get up myself first." Lister cautiously rose to his feet, immediately lost balance, and fell over to jeers from the crowd, "OK, maybe not." Lister grabbed Kryten's outstretched hand, and the two walked off the field, stumbling occasionally.

After what felt like forever for Lister, he was finally off the pitch and the substitute was given the go ahead. The other subs shuffle up one spot as Lister sat in the first seat in the row, and Kryten sat next to him.

"What happened Kryten?" said Lister, wiping his forehead. He was exceptionally warm for a cold spring afternoon like this one.
"Well, you fainted, sir. I thought that was obvious."
"No, not like that."
"Oh, I see what you mean. It just happened randomly out of the blue, you just crumpled into a heap. Lucky you forewarned me about this happening. You said you'd been feeling ill all day. I'll get reports on you after the match"

---

"The results have come back in sir." said Kryten holding up a piece of paper. He'd been examining Lister for the past 45 minutes, asking him questions and looking almost every part of his body, apart from the bit just below his waist, Lister kept Kryten away from that bit for reasons that were beyond him.
"What is it then?"
"Just your common or garden flu, sir. But evolved other millions of years into another strain, something much worse than the original, but not life-threatening."
"So no need to worry?"
"No, sir just get some rest, maybe a few days in bed and you should be as good as ever."
"That's good. I'm a little tired myself. Night."

Lister had a bad sleep that night. He dreamed strange things, like it raining haddock, and the Mayor of London combusting internally. What was weird is that he could feel the fish. It was very realistic, like someone was whacking a haddock on his arm at irregular intervals.

Kryten walked by Lister and Rimmer's quarters, with a pile of sheets. He saw the floor filled with haddock which appeared to be falling from the ceiling at an alarming rate. Kryten dropped the sheets. Just before he ran to wake Lister up, a blonde haired man in his late 40s came up to Kryten, saying, "anyone up for a game of whiff whaff." before internally combusting without any trace of him left. Kryten, ignoring the exploding Boris Johnson, squelched his way through Lister's room, batting away the live fish landing on his head, and poked Lister. He awoke with a start.

"Hey Kryten. What's all them fish doing on the floor?"
"No time to explain, sir, you might need to get out of here." Kryten and Lister squelched their way out of the quarters and into the corridor, where they bumped into the Cat.
"Hey, buds. I've been looking for you all over the place. Apparently there are two people in the other building that want to see you..."

[Mesoland]

OOC: Sorry for the short RP tonight, been busy with school work.

MBC Sports News
Coverage of the LXIII World Cup in Aguazul and Turori

BLUES FALL SHORT AWAY TO MINNOWS

Jukenia 2
Ximelez 38, 90+3 (pen)

Mesoland 1
Nukaba 45

Bert Giazanba's position as Meso head coach is today under scrutiny after the bluebirds threw away their chance to go top of group 13 thanks to their despicable away loss to unranked Jukenia. The minnows, who are proving difficult to beat, have now hopped up to second place in the group, leaving Mesoland sprawling in fourth behind Audioslavia, Jukenia and Akbarabad, Polar Islandstates following closely behind the blues on goal difference.

The underdogs went ahead first, their lead 'striker' netting a simple tap in after rounding a rushing Ziza Akazambaa, the home crowd of 22,567 inside the Arc Stadium going wild with joy. Their joy was short lived, however, with Nukaba equalising on the stroke of half time with a hard, low shot past the Jukenian goalkeeper.

The blues played poorly in the second half, allowing Jukenia to get into the match and allowing the little side to play at their own tempo. As the game drew to an end, a stoppage time foul in the Meso penalty box by Wilfried Natasu (who was red carded for the challenge from behind) led to Ximelez converting Jukenia's second goal with the last play of the game. As the players trudged off the field, Bert Giazanba's job was already being scrutinised, his position reportedly hanging in the balance depending on whether he can pick his side up from this humiliating defeat. Ximelez of Jukenia received man of the match, while Nukaba scores his fifth goal of the qualifiers.

The bluebirds next host 314th ranked Traila, another side the blues should theoretically hammer by a hefty margin. A game that could possibly decide the future of coach Giazanba, the blues will evidently be required to put in a sterling performance if they are going to save their dream of qualification, and maybe more importantly, save their beloved coach from the sack.

All World Cup and CoH news and results can be found on the MBC website, http://www.mesolandbc.mz, under the sports section. Article by Jonjo Tikali.

[Wight]

.

[Socialist States Owen]

Blackhall COB-105
Centre of Operations for the Foreign Office
Euran Government Parliament District
Bastion

Harker shrugged. "We were implying that martial law would be declared if the West Angolan state ceased to be able to enforce law and order in its borders. This last measure would ensure law and order is maintained, the people are protected, and Euran assets remain undamaged. If the government collapsed we would simply install a new one. We took it for granted that there would be a deliberation period so yes, you would have prior warning. Time to sign this document, I think!" Harker and the other two ministers signed off on the documents, as did Sien and Garret. This took about twenty minutes; the room was silent during. When Garret finished signing the last document, those in the room broke out in applause and shook the hands of the two West Angolans. "To the partnership," toasted Harker, "and benevolent leadership! I will have these documents forwarded to the Prime Minister and the Chairman immediately."

Several hours later in the day, Sien and Garret had been escorted to luxury accommodation in the parliamentary district, and had been allowed to regroup with their advisers and secretary's. They now had an itinerary to attend to; the King would draft an official decree to announce to the West Angolan people before flying back the next day, Garret would prepare a speech, and the Euran Minister of Overseas Territories (As well as the Deputy PM) would come with them. They would then dismiss the West Angolan government for a week to allow some planning for what changes would have to take place, before the government would reconvene as normal - and now as a dominion of the Euran Federation. In the meantime, Garret had been instructed to make the necessary calls to prepare for the transition, while ensuring that the West Angolan military would stand down so that the Euran military command could take stock of their capabilities and decide the future shape and substance of West Angola's defences.

[Cambirano]

CAMBIRANO 2 THE HOLY EMPIRE 5

The #1 team in the world paid a visit to Pennington Stadium in Scherten yesterday, and predictably, won comfortably, handing Cambirano its second 5-2 thrashing of the campaign. The Holy Empire so outplayed Cambirano that manager Klaus Handel was quoted as saying Cambirano's team "didn't even play the same sport."

"Look," he said at the post-match press conference, "I think we were just outmatched there. They are an amazing team. They're so crisp, so powerful, so quick. It seemed like we didn't even play the same sport. Were we playing tennis?"

Although he tried to make light of it, the 36,000 or so fans who packed into Pennington Stadium seemed despondent for almost the entire match, only briefly receiving something to cheer about when Cambirano put two goals past the keeper late in the match.

The Holy Empire opened the scoring barrage early, with Alexius Philanthropenuso receiving a low cross at the top of the box and calmly placing it past Theo Walden in net just 7 minutes in. Although the Cambiranan squad didn't really expect to win, this goal seemed to discourage them. Defender Joseph Flanden immediately dropped his head and shuffled around for several minutes.

THE made it 2-0 just 10 minutes later, as Philanthropenuso put home a cross from midfielder John Lascaro. It was 3-0 in the 32nd minute, on the back of Carlos Stilbes' volley from 10 yards out. Cambirano striker Xavier Camette ran to the sideline, got a water bottle, and then hurled it away, something he was fined S1,000 for.

The 3-0 lead held until halftime, but THE scored two more, in the 52nd and 55th minutes, off of corners. The goalscorers were Juan Andres Tornikes and Lascaro, respectively.

Cambirano gained some consolation when it placed two goals past THE's keeper, Alexius Ducaso, in the 70th and 81st minutes. The first goal came when Henri de Camouette ripped a shot from well outside the box that hit a THE defender and fell to William St. Mark, who put it in the upper left corner. The second Cambiranan strike was scored by substitute Stefan Vlachinovsky, who had a corner land right on his head for the final goal in a 5-2 game.

Match Summary: Cambirano vs The Holy Empire
7th: GOAL A. Philanthropenuso (THE) 1-0 The Holy Empire
17th: GOAL A. Philanthropenuso (THE) 2-0 The Holy Empire
32nd: GOAL C. Stilbes (THE) 3-0 The Holy Empire
52nd: GOAL J. A. Tornikes (THE) 4-0 The Holy Empire
55th: GOAL J. Lascaro (THE) 5-0 The Holy Empire
59th: SUBST S. Vlachinovsky (In) S. Gurley (Out)
70th: GOAL W. St. Mark (Cambirano) 5-1 The Holy Empire
78th: SUBST K. Feldman (In) W. St. Mark (Out)
81st: GOAL S. Vlachinovsky (Cambirano) 5-2 The Holy Empire

[Secundus Kasius]

Television viewers in Secundus Kasius were glued to their screens, whether within their own homes, down their local, or gathered at the big screen in Nexus Square. Whilst some had tuned in to watch the match (and these people were obvious from their high spirited cheers) all had been 'requested' to listen to Haxtes Sicara's post-match speech.

The Colomba^TM logo faded from the broadcast as the Kasian national anthem swelled into existence. Sitting in a chair so opulent it was a jewel away from a throne was the Unifier herself, making a rare public appearance – despite the inconvenience of having to watch at a certain time, many were intrigued as to what she had to say. She was attired as only a member of a ruling class can be, with every inch of her clothing to the highest quality and meticulously cared for. Her style was reminiscent of romanticised corsairs - a corseted shirt, high leather boots, and golden hoops dangling from her earlobes, a tiny stylised dove perched upon each one. The nation appeared to hang onto her every word as she cleared her throat most elegantly, and began to talk.

“People of Secundus Kasius - I wish to join with you today in celebration of our nation's latest victory! Our team fought bravely, and showed how persistence always prevails. We are climbing up the group, and we will continue to do so!

“A year ago – even a month ago – I would never have expected to be making such a speech. Football has captured the soul of Secundus Kasius in a way none of us could have predicted. The nation's support and patriotism brings joy to my heart, and should to all of yours also, for it shows how we as a people remain strong in the face of defeat, and will always rise from the ashes. As such, I bestow upon our glorious team a new name to call themselves: the Phoenixes. A symbol of beauty, strength, and above all – resilience.

“For this day and age other nations do not look towards our superior forces or population, but instead judge our performance in sport instead. It is important that we show them how competent a nation we really are, without bowing before the might of supposed superiority. Where we do not win, we will fight all the harder next time. And where we battle to victory, we will celebrate it with the force it truly deserves!

“Today was a glorious day for football and for our nation. For his resounding efforts both today and throughout the World Cup, I will be bestowing honours upon Ed Holt, alongside others amongst his team. Johnny Arkwright shall also be highly commended for his superb defence of our goal borders. Let it never be said that we do not recognise greatness in this nation! 3-0 in an international game is a huge triumph for our small country, and we shall not let them forget it. In honour of this occasion, I hereby declare that the working day shall begin 2 hours later than usual tomorrow, so people may celebrate with impunity.

Let us learn from the Kasian squad: work together, man and women, nobles and others! Become a cohesive, tight-knit family, fight in the face of adversity, and above all – strive to better the glory of Secundus Kasius!”

[Audioslavia]

"So" said Jeremy, the longest and most cohesive question his journalistic mind could forge after half a bottle of Audioslavian whisky.
"It is done" said Old Shakerssen, solemly.
"So what's the deal? What's the timeframe?"
"All of it, and an hour ago" replied Shakerssen, sitting down. A barmaid brought over a glass of whisky from the same bottle Jeremy had been drinking, even without Shakerssen asking. He must be the reason this Wightling establishment even stocked the stuff.
"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Jeremy, with a frown.
"It means what it means. It is done. Audioslavia is drained."
"What? You mean Kjeligsted, you mean the islands around it, right?"
"No. Well, yes, the islands around Kjeligsted, yes. That is now Audioslavia. Your previous landmass has been retired, its inhabitants will begin to realise, soon"
"What?"

Shakerssen's explanation was... interesting.

"What is the quickest way to plough a field?" he asked, rhetorrically. Jeremy, being a city-dweller, wasn't even sure he knew what ploughing entailed, short of the violently graphic sexual entendre. "You might be thinking, 'in a straight line' " said Shakerssen, "but you'd be wrong". The quickest way to agree to plough the field yesterday, and have it done then, but have the person ploughing the field yesterday to do so fractally, in three dimensions, internally, if you will"
"What" said Jeremy. It wasn't even a question, it was just a general 'what'.
"I'll put it in simpler terms. Imagine a piece of paper, folded in within itself to a factor of n"
"What"
"Ok, so fold a piece of paper in half, in your mind"
"What?"
"OK. So imagine a piece of paper"
"OK"
"There's a dot on both ends of the piece of paper, about a centimetre from the edge of each side. Now, what is the quickest way to get from point A to point B?"
"Which is which?" asked Jeremy
"Designate a letter to whichever point you like"
"OK" said Jeremy, "I'll call them O and K"
"Fine" said Shakerssen, trying not to lose faith. "Now, which is the quickest route from one to the other?"
Jeremy thought for a moment.
"Aha!" he exclaimed, finally, "It's a trick question. You just curl the piece of paper around and travel, like, a centimetre"
"Good"
"Hooray"
"But incorrect"
"Oh"
"It's much, much quicker to simply travel the width of the paper. Fold the piece of paper in half so the two dots connect... do you see what I mean?"
"Oh. Right. Fine" said Jeremy.
"So, on to the next, more complicate part"
"About the fractally retro-ploughed fields?"
"Yes. Kind of. Look, is it imperative that I tell you how we've done it?"
"Well, I *am* a journalist" said Jeremy, "I need to be able to explain to people exactly what's happened"
"OK. I'll try to put it a different way. You have heard, I presume, that we can literally sing something into existence? Not me, of course, but there are people in Wight who have mastered the technique. My company makes use of it a great deal, when merely fractal-depth space-time logistical homoterraforming isn't quite enough to get the job done.."
Jeremy looked blank.
"What"
"OK, but you've heard we sing things into existence"
"Yes"
"Well... it's very similar to that, only a different note, or, rather, chord, as it involves more than one singer"
"What note is that?"
"A secret one, of course, but the closest reproducable chord for this project would be an A over high C"
"Meaning?"
"Meaning new Audioslavia rising from the sea. An apt note, I think you'll agree"
"So, when does this happen?"
"Well that's just it. Going back to the piece of paper"
"Oh god"
"...going back to the piece of paper, once you realised the trick you could do it any time you liked, with a regular piece of paper. So why not do it yesterday?"
"But you can't.."
"Here, they can, and they did. They did it yesterday, in fact"
"I think my hangover is kicking in already"
"Drink through it" said Shakerssen, as his compatriot pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "That's what I do"
"I can tell you that Audioslavia will win their next game, 1-0, over Fewmist" said Shakerssen, after a sip of his whisky.
"Because of the time thing?" asked Jeremy, still with his hand over his face
"No" said Shakerssen, "because it's Audioslavia playing away, and it's bound to be a boring match"

[Blouman Empire]

THE EMPIRE TIMES

EAGLES WIN IN LACKLUSTRE GAME

Johnathon Briggs-Way's late goal gave the Eagles their first win in 4 games as the team continues to battle for a qualification spot for the 63rd World Cup. Briggs-Way back from a one match suspension set out to prove himself and made short work of Megadia to give Megadia their first loss of the campaign.

The 76th minute goal was the only real talking point of the game as the rest of the half failed to show any real quality. The most fluent move of the opening 45 minutes saw George Sinclair and Christopher Kovarch swap possession in the centre of the park before William Goodfellow broke free from his marker slipped a pass to Baden Lakes who bent a low, first-time effort around the far post. Megadia went close as goalkeeper James Solomon had to palm from underneath the bar as a looping, deflected cross from Megadia looked like creeping in at the far post. Both sides struggled to get a foothold in the game, neither having the craft or invention to string together a passage of play, as both keepers spent most of the game untroubled. Lakes bent an effort around the near post and Robert Schmitz powered one over the bar as openings were limited to speculative attempts from distance.

The second half didn't improve much and any attacking threat the home side had was restricted when manager Sir Nathan Kolson beefed up his back line by replacing centre forward Robert Schmitz with sweeper Hamish Alpin. Kovarch missed a sitter by scuffing his effort wide, unmarked, from deep inside the area and the midfielder went close again, bouncing it off the woodwork from the edge of the area. The game was showing itself to not be a classic on a lazy afternoon, but the travelling support were in fine voice throughout as they cheered and sung the Eagles on. Kane Ancap was substituted for his first taste of international football since the last Cup of Harmony, replacing Lakes midway through the second half. And, spurred on by the song "Kane is your bane" he made an immediate impact putting pressure on the Megadia defence and keeper. The Megadia forward sliced the ball harmlessly wide as the hosts pressed for a breakthrough. The deadlock was broken with 14 minutes remaining when Megadia defender was booked for a foul on George Cardol near the touchline. Cardol's free-kick looped over the wall with Briggs-Way, running in and rising high above the defenders expertly headed the ball in to give the Eagle's the goal and the game. Megadia applied further pressure desperately seeking the equaliser but were unable to get past a 5 man back line or beat Solomon.

The win breaks a three game losing streak for the Eagles as they seek to improve their qualifying chances now only two games behind, the team will be playing at home against Estope, a team that has had similar results. A win will keep the Eagles in contention while a loss will see them move further down the table.

[Lalo Limahina]

OOC: Lack of time shortens it down a bit, sorry.

"How in the heck did we lose to Ossidusf... Ossidiakan... Ossdiaca... That team with the O! HOW? We're superior, we shouldn't lose to them! Them must have some sort of secret agenda! That's the only way!

Ok, Oss sounds like east. Di means two. Acqua is water. Two eastern waters. Hmmm... Aha! There's two bodies of water to the east! There's... There's... Aw friggin hell, I can't even come up with a conspiracy. My gosh, I'm losing my edge. I need to get some time off. Serious time."

"Coach, are you resigning?"

"No, I'm just... I just need to some time to rest. Wait, I've got it. I need to... to..."

"Sir, are you ok?"

"I don't know. I don't know. I need to end this conference. Thank you."

---

It remains to be seen how long Coach Cole will be able to stay on. His health, or at least his mental stability, appears to be decreasing. Stay tuned for updates.

[Lymantatia]

Lymantatia 2–2 Vettrera
It was Matchday 5 when the Tempests of Vettrera were who the Multicultural Peoples of Lymantatia tied with 0-1.
Goals Scored:
Jacques Bressler (1)
Sylvius Johnson (1)
Antoine Dubois (2)
DYK:
Did you know that the other goalkeeper on Lymantatia's BoF44 team, Arthur Beauclerk (1917-1997) was a candidate for Lymantatian Prime Minister in 1964?

[New Montreal States]

Part One is here.
Part Two is here.

Watterson emerged from the locker to Narnia blinking, and hoping he wasn't in too much trouble with Coach Kirkkegaard - he had lost track of time while in Narnia, but the dinner, the conversation and his nap had to have lasted several hours. He pulled out his cellphone from his jeans only to find that fifteen minutes, at most, had gone by since he first entered the locker. As he was holding his phone, it buzzed - Fred Nguyen, letting his teammates know that the horde of reporters had charged directly into a darken, disused, 250-year-old men's room on the bottommost level of the old Paladin Dome and that it was safe to head back to the clubhouse.

Watterson made his way back up, not seeing any of his fellow escapees, and found himself the first one back in the clubhouse. After a brief explanation to a relieved Sol Kirkkegaard, he and his fellow players started laughing about the reporters trapped in the bowels of the Paladin Dome. Still, Watterson found himself wondering just what the hell had happened in that old locker room. Had the forest been real? Had a combination of fumes from the parkas in that locker - God only knew what kind of chemicals were in the linings of those things - and the adrenaline from being chased by paparazzi made him hallucinate? Had he found the old pitch from the Paladin Dome, gone to seed, with giant unnatural trees - were they even trees? Were they maybe fungi shaped like trees? He hadn't looked too closely - and populated by bizarre species not yet know to science?

He could already hear the sounds of his teammates laughing at him if he brought it up to one of them. So he kept it under his hat, at least for the next two weeks.

But after a tremendously entertaining, fast-paced 2-2 draw at the Dome between the Paladins and a Sondry Folk side that was trying to avoid falling too far behind the Boring Paradise juggernaut, Watterson, Flowers, Nguyen and center midfielder Albert Rochon found themselves staring down another horde of starfuckers, some of them looking a bit worse for the wear after several days buried in the bowels of the Paladin Dome, but all of them had kept their vocal cords strong and healthy and all of their questions were about Fred Nguyen's impending love-child:

"FRED-dy, dahling, any progress on choosing a name for your little bundle of joy?"

"Will you be going with organic hardwood toys to avoid the dangers of chemicals in plastics, or will you be buying soy plastic toys to avoid the dangers of infected splinters from easily shattered wooden toys?"

"Mr. Nguyen, what tax shelters are you considering for you and Whitney's kid's college fund?"

And off they all went, sprinting into the depths of the Paladin Dome before any more of their brain cells died horrible deaths from inanity.

Rochon was the first to split from the group - he had the least to worry about from the paparazzi, and he maintained a fine man cave, not too far from the stairs down, with an 80' diagonal LCD and an 80' artisanal bong. Watterson, seeking a chance to clear his conscience about the locker, as well as get away from the slavering masses, ducked right into the same room he had gone into last time and headed for the same locker that had lead him into Narnia the first go-round. This time, however, he was followed by Sam Flowers.

Flowers, in fact, followed him so closely they both ended up in the same locker, with their faces smashed into the old stadium parkas that still hung right by the door.

"Ooof! Sam, is there a reason you followed me in here?"

"Well, I was kind of hoping you'd lead me to safety, and not directly into an old locker. Why the hell did you go diving in here, anyway?"

"Well, the other day after the Secundus Kasius game, this is where I hid. And there's something odd about this locker. It doesn't have a back to it, at all. There's some kind of forest back there, covered in snow."

"Really."

"Yep. And there's a faun named Juan Tumnusces. He had me over for dinner."

"Uh-HUH. Bill, are you sure we haven't accidentally stumbled into someone else's LSD stash?"

"Nope." Watterson was taking down one of the parkas and putting it on.

"You're seriously putting one of those things on? They smell like grilled brie! Are you sure you weren't just hallucinating from the fumes?"

"Quite sure." Watterson pointed towards the lantern in the distance. "See? That's a lamp-post that marks the edge of the forest. I'm gonna head over to Mr. Tumnusces and get smashed, he's got some pretty strong local hooch of some kind in his pantry." Watterson began walking off towards Mr. Tumnusces cave.

"Are you fucking crazy?"

"No, I'm fucking sober, and I aim to change that!" Watterson began trudging off towards the lantern, leaving a confused Flowers behind to process everything he'd just seen. Five minutes later, Flowers decided to put on another one of the parkas and follow his teammate out into the darkness. When he made it to the lantern, he froze yet again, unsure whether to strike out into the woods ahead of him or double back and take his chances with the tabloid media.

His mind was about to be made up for him, though...

[United Gordonopia]

Played by billions around the world...
Bringing innovative ideas to the sports genre...
Called one of the greatest football games ever made...
And it just. Got. Better.


Play football in legendary stadiums with the world's best players... and zombies.
Nail insane headers in Big Head Mode.
Take on your foes in over-the-top two-on-two action in Jam Mode.

And best of all?
Its. 100%. Free.


Your Game, Your World

---

Gordonopian Games Marketing Office
Imperial Gordonopia Corporation Headquarters Complex
Gordonopia City

"Free DLC?!? Are you insane?!?" Michael Fritz, chief of marketing, screamed. He seemed as if he was on the verge of breaking his desk in half, and moving on to Jacob Weiss.

"Sir, I understand that it's a bit odd, but think about it from this perspective?" Weiss replied, trying his best to stand his ground.

"What perspective, Weiss? Think of how much revenue we'd be making off of it!"

"Look, sir, I know it's a revenue loss, but it didn't really cost a lot. The 1,000,000 console giveaway, which was well within the budget you assigned, worked like a charm. Think of how many gaming sites had us plastered all over their front page, and most of them we didn't even pay for advertisements in! People like free stuff, and people who didn't win either saw the game on their favorite blog or whatever, and a lot went out and bought it, or they saw some buddy win a free Cronos Elite, and maybe thought about getting one for themselves."

"Weiss, I don't need your damn explication," Fritz interrupted, though he was visibly less furious.

"So if they like free stuff, why not give them this? It cost next to nothing to make; some of the components were from background mods some of the devs created for fun, and for the rest we brought in some outside modders on contract. Don't worry, it's all tested and debugged, we're ready to ship. The money you'd given us for the giveaway, well, there was a bit left over." Weiss explained.

"So that means we can make even more off of it!"

"No, sir. It means we won't lose anything. Then think about the only thing Electronic Farts still seems to have over us: novelty. If we release something like this, checkmate."

"I understand where you're coming from," Fritz said, almost calmly, "But I still don't see how you get free."

"Like I said before, sir: people love free stuff. Think of the rep games companies have for tacking on DLC to make a quick buck, ourselves included. Then think of the goodwill, the free press, and most importantly, the additional sales of the full game, we'll get from something like this."

Finally, Weiss could see Fritz coming to his side. As much as he respected the man, a legend in the game marketing business but perhaps a bit past his prime, he certainly took his time. But when he finally, and maybe still a bit reluctantly, gave Weiss the go-ahead, the young Project Manager couldn't have been more excited. If Arcade turned out to be a success, who knows where he could go next.

[Silar]

Monday, January 7, 2013

The Silaran Evening Telegraph

Chevaliers take Second Win, Play Difficult Opponents Tonight

The Chevaliers took a massive 4-0 win last evening in a home game against Kerblaekistan with the return of the previously injured striker Luther Lewis to the field. A contentious first half ended in Silar's single point lead before a second half proved to break the Kerblaekistanis and earn Silar three more points before the final bell.

The Chevalier's success, however, has done little to shift the team's group placement, where the remain at sixth with two losses, one draw, and now two wins. The Silaran team remains at home for their match against Free South Califas, one of the best teams in the group who currently hold second place in the group rankings. Previous win aside, the atmosphere is tense as the team prepares for what will prove a grueling match.
"Who knows," says Sir Archibald Dent, the teams manager, "Miracles happen.. let's just say that I will be spending a little of my morning in Church today."

Fans too are preparing, hundreds flocking to the sold-out match at the Royal Stadium to cheer their team on to whatever awaits them. Lucas Fen, a fan who has gained something of a cult following for his presentation of the ancient Royal Standard at home games, is brining out his famous banners and hopes other fans will as well.
"It stands for a lot to Silar.. it represents our attidute of no surrender, even if that means we go down with the ship. I think that's very much the attitude the team needs to bring to the field and the fans to the stands."


RFRAS President Arrested on Corruption Charges

In what will prove to become a hot legal battle, Count Eric Balding, President of the Royal Football and Rugby Association of Silar, has been arrested and indicted on charges including misuse of crown appointment and corruption. Balding lawyer has promised to fight the charges stating that there is little evidence and, even if there were, the law is not on the state's side.
"This is a dangerous precident the state is trying to set here. My client is the head of a private organization funded with private monies. The charges brought against him treat him as a public employee. Should they be allowed to stand, nobody is safe from a possible corruption charge for everyday matters of business."

[Beaverriver]

Beaverriver lets in a late goal against Andossa Se Mitrin Vega to lose 0-1

Everyone arrived to the game laughing and smiling before a huge game against Andossa Se Mitrin Vega. With in the locker room, all the players were talking to each other and pumping up for the game. A very different atmosphere in the locker room then in the past four games. Then Nate Villo brought the team together and gave his motivational speech. They can hear the fans from inside the locker room. Both teams walked out to the pitch. The fans chanting about how the team will win the game.

Beaverriver had the ball first and the game started. Both team had a lot chances to score including some chances where the goalkeeper came up big. The midfield was able to keep the ball better then in past games despite rough play from the Sea dragons of Andossa Se Mitrin Vega. This game had a lot of fouls on both sides including a yellow card by Ian Quirzo(BVR) and Lyxat Im'untu(ASMV). The yellow from Ian Quirzo was costly as it gave up a free kick. Fylen Kel'tas was able get it over the wall into the back of the net to give Andossa Se Mitrin Vega the lead in the 81st minute.

After the game, the team was satisfied with result. interviewing with some of the players revealed that they were happy because they weren't getting dominated unlike past games. Even coach Nate Villo was happy with the result. "We are playing much better then we had previously done against the teams towards the top and unlike the the other games against tougher opponents where we gave up three goals, we only gave up one goal" Said Nate Villo. "We are preparing for our next opponent and hopefully have a great performance like we did today."

[Polar Islandstates]

And so the team played far better than they had done all cycle up til that point. They were patient, and went in at half time only one-nil up thanks to Marten Cornelius' fortunate deflected strike. However, they went in at half time richer in terms of knowledge about their opposition than they were in terms of numerical advantage, and they knew just how to inflict damage on their foes after the interval. Striking with power, the Terns ended up five-nil winners and boosted Schwartz's standing with the press and fans thanks to Elmsvikur, Kvitchenko, Juul, and Saarinen late on. The Storyteller was most pleased with their performance, and so the players heard the rest of the story.

---

The next match for the Terns was away in Nethertopia - a side that they Ters had never played before. However, a lack of experience on the field of play does not always equate to a lack of knowledge on the team in question, and the players were more than aware of the fine history that the Nethertopians could boast.

They will be a tough opposition, started Jorgen Hauge, their history speaks for itself and we cannot afford to take a win for granted.

Eyvindur Sudesval agreed, adding that the Nethertopians had been a highly rated side long before the Federation even existed, let alone capable of sending a team of footballers to compete in international events.

Iulian Finnibaturinn also weighed into the discussion at this point, bringing a story up from memory that his father used to tell him about seeing Nethertopia play whilst on a business trip a long time ago, when football was still in its infancy in the nations that preceded the Federation. Apparently, the experience had made a huge impression upon Papa Finnibaturinn, and he had always praised the Nethertopians in discussion ever since.

They are indeed a nation with a strong and proud history, agreed Henning Tir, entering the room. But perhaps everyone should see what the Storyteller has to say about it.

Obediently, the players congregated at the front of the changing room, sitting down around the whiteboard that had as ever made the journey to foreign climes with the players, still bearing the marks from Schwartz's teamtalk.

A reputation is a fine thing, said the Storyteller in his trademark hissing rasp, laden as it was the weight of centuries of legends and tales of creation. Just be warned however, he continued, that a reputation can work both ways. According to his warning, there had been a great deal of shadows that he had seen in his life, many of which were cast by figures not nearly as intimidating as the shadows themselves...

It was the fourth solid month of rain. It had rained in Holderlin ever since the Vallone family had moved into the old Tonnesen house next door. I didn't trust them. Something about them just put my hairs on end. And it wasn't a race thing, either. I knew several Acquan children at school, they were fine, they were people, they were just like you or me. But not the Vallone children. They had deep hooded brows, their eyes peaked out from under them with a cold hard gaze of flint that chilled me to the bone, and they never talked to anyone. Ever.

Mother had forced me to come round with her to welcome the new neighbours when they'd moved in. That was the first day of the rain. I didn't want to go with her, but she insisted. According to the gossip, they had a twelve year old, a ten year old, and an eight year old, welcome playmates for her eleven year old son in the head of my mother, who had somehow become convinced that I was a headcase and a loner. Us being the only two houses at our end of the street wasn't helping that of course, nor the fact that the Tonnesen place seriously creeped me out to start with. I even found a pamphlet in the kitchen one week - 'how to deal with your problem child'. Very reassuring. I resisted her calls to come round with her, of course - I'd seen them moving in earlier that morning, I already knew they gave me the creeps. But my mother can be an insistent woman, as the Vallones found out later, but for that afternoon in particular I was the focus of her stubbornness.

So we went around that evening, basket of muffins and all, with me in my best suit. I'd even had my hair combed. Mother rang the doorbell as I shifted nervously on the doorstep, and we heard cautious footsteps approaching the door. There was a quiet murmuring behind the door, and a twitch at the net curtains.

"Hello? It's Sonia Milevskyi, from next door?" said my mother, nervously, "Welcome to the neighbourhood! I believe you have children too?"

But there was no answer. The footsteps went away again, and the house fell silent. Nonplussed, my mother left the basket of muffins on the doorstep anyway, and we trotted off back home. The basket was still there two days later, untouched, when the Vallone children left the house for the first time, dressed impeccably from head to toe in their weird private school uniform. Of course they were going to my school. Just the kids left the house, you understand, never the parents. I could barely even remember what they looked like. Instead, every day, that's all we saw. The kids. Coming out of the house in the rain, going back into the house in the rain. Always dressed impeccably.

Other than that, all we saw was plenty of deliveries. Their furniture arrived by van. Their food arrived by van. Strange packages arrived by van, signed for quickly and with as little fuss as possible by whichever of the adults answered the door. Weird noises came from the house at night, too. I had never liked the Tonnesen house. Even when old Mr Tonnesen lived there, the strange elevated perspectives of the building seemed at odds with his friendly demeanour. The windows were tall and long, the shutters were battered and flew around in the wind. In the rain, the lights shone off it menacingly. The noises only enforced this image, and now with the kind old Mr Tonnesen replaced by a creepy new family of Acquan immigrants that talked to nobody, the house's power over me only increased. We had no idea what was going on in there, but as the rain continued day by day, week by week, month by month, the rumours started flying around. I used to spend hours at the fence squinting and trying to look in through the dark windows at what was going on there. People were even talking to me at school. The fields around our houses at the end of the cul de sac were often full of kids from my school playing. They rarely if ever asked me to play with them, but they knew I lived there alright, and now with the status of the Vallones in the house next door I was hot property at school.

"I heard they're making a teleporter machine," said Thijs at yet another indoor playtime at Holderlin Junior School.

I shrugged non-committally. Thijs was a bully. I didn't like him, and tried to avoid interaction.

"Don't be stupid," piped up Sofia, "isn't it obvious from the rain? They're controlling the weather from in there! They're so unused to rain after being in Ossidiacqua that they're making it rain all the time! Isn't that right, Casper?"

I shrugged again, trying not to get involved.

"Well, I heard they eat people!" shouted Marten rather loudly in my ear. "The vans drive up containing people and bits of people, and they eat their brains! That's why they look so strange, cos brains don't taste nice and it makes them crazy.

I did my best to ignore the stupid things the kids at school said and tried to go back to sitting on my own, but I was like a celebrity at school by that point. My proximity to the Vallones everyday meant everybody came to me to talk about their version of what was going on next door - and something definitely was - not that I cared much at first. Over time, the stories started to get to my head though, and before I knew what I was doing I was bragging. I was taking pictures of their house on my mother's phone and then stealing it to take to school and show my classmates. I took photos of the vans and delivery trucks, I took sound recordings of the bumps and whirring that eminated from the house at night, I even snuck right up to the gate and took photos of the children as they left for their posh school. I was notorious, now.

Soon, kids at school were asking me to take them to see the house next door. One by one, I took them to see the house up close, as close as they dared, whether that be through my garden fence, from my bedroom window, or from the bottom of their drive. My mother didn't care. As far as she was concerned, I was making friends. Thijs even ran up and knocked on their door. We all ran away after that, terrified.

Before I knew it, I was obsessed.

All day long, I dreamed and fantasised about what was going on in that house. Who were they? What were they doing? Why were they so secretive? Eventually, halfway through the third month of rain, I settled on a conclusion - they were spies. Two adult Acquan spies, sent to the Federation with three children as a cover story of being a family, all working on trying to figure out what it was that makes us Polarians so naturally athletic. Thor knows the Acquan frame isn't up to much, physically speaking, when compared to us. Yeah, that was it. I was convinced. They were shipping in their tortuous devices, smuggled in by fellow Acquan agents. They took them into their house, assembled them, and them took custody of Polarians that were captured on the streets and brought to them. That was the source of the noises I heard at night. Dissection and torture. I was sure of it.

I spread my rumours at school - they spread like wildfire. As far as the other kids were concerned, the closest neighbour to the enigmatic family that everyone was fascinated by had come up with a theory. Stood to reason that it was the right one, right? And so the fascination continued with the torturing, possibly cannibalistic, 'family' of Acquan spies. It all felt so exiting to a child.

One week before the incident the entire fabric of Holderlin changed, however, when the Vallone children joined the same school as the rest of us. We were stunned. No more would they be seen sneaking out of the building in their impeccable uniforms. Instead, they came out of the house dressed impeccably in 'normal' clothes, and walked to school. The first day, I followed them at a distance, baffled and fascinated in equal fearful measure.

At school, they were left well alone by the rest of the children, who were all scared and terrified by the cannibalistic rumours that preceded the new kids joining. Fortunately, it would appear that the three Vallone children had little to no intention of joining in with the rest of us anyway. They kept to themselves, speaking only when spoken to directly by the teachers, and answering back in their broken english - the only common language between Ossidiacqua and the Federation. As a whole, we kids were all fascinated by them. It was like a cult.

On the second Thorsday of their time at our school, the cult experience reached a head. The chants started going round the halls at yet another wet playtime.

"VALLONE, CANNIBALS, EAT THE KIDS AND TEST THEIR BALLS!"

Over and over again. We could all see them getting wound up. Standing as a trio, they attempted to hold rank, drawing themselves into each other in order to protect their siblings from the cruel chants of us children. But then Thijs got too close, and the eldest Vallone lashed out. The punch drew blood, and the crowd were hushed.

"Are you going to eat him, now?" asked a quiet voice from the back of the crowd.

The whispers went around and the next scandal was already brewing in the minds of my classmates. The Vallones were going to eat Thijs. We were all there, we'd all seen the proof, right? The teachers arrived to break up the fighting just as the bell went for the afternoon's teaching however, and so we were all left to our own minds for the afternoon to mature and ferment the idea even further.

By home time, things were at a fever pitch.

Running straight out of school at the home time bell, the Vallone kids made for our cul de sac. Catching a break on the rest of my classmates, I was the only one to notice their flight, and I gave pursuit.

I was revelling in my new role as chief intelligence officer for the cult of Vallone, and I considered it my duty to chase them down. Slowing to a brisk walk as we entered my street, I followed them at a distance, chanting and taunting them all the way. I was enjoying myself. These kids were cannibals from a cannibal family of spies, it was all there in the school gospel, right? There could be no doubt!

"Running home, are you?" I shouted as the rain fell around in the evening light. "Running home for your afternoon snack?"

They turned to look at me briefly as they reached the bottom of their drive. They continued walking.

"What's for dinner tonight, kids?" I jeered, "Brains on toast, perhaps? Or maybe one of your parents has served you up something special? Valhallan fingers?"

Reaching the bottom of their steps, they climbed them and opened the door, the old house leering up above them. Still not brave enough to follow them down their path, I stood at the bottom of their drive as they turned and walked into their house. They slammed the door behind them, and then peered out at me from under their heavy brows from the net curtains. I made a rude hand gesture and walked backwards off their drive and into the road, fixated on their evil cannibal reactions.

I was so fixed on their faces that I didn't even notice the delivery van aquaplaning behind me.

When I opened my eyes, all I could see was the they thick grey sky, with the little ashen pellets of the falling rain coming at me with a dizzying perspective. My torso was warm. Instinctively I could tell I was bleeding heavily. Everything hurt.

The faces of the Vallone adults appeared above my eyes. With a dreadful lurch in my stomach, I realised that my arch-enemies were attempting pick me up and bring me into their house. I tried my best to protest, but I could make no words. I blacked out again on the way into the house, only waking up again when we were at the top of their stairs, on their landing on what looked like the second floor.

"No, no!" I could hear the children shouting, "He is evil! He is mean! They torment us! He stares! Do not help him!"

'Help me,' I thought to myself, 'what are they on about? Surely they are about to eat me?!'

Eyes looking wildly around in fear, I looked at the dark eyes of the father as he placed me gently on the floor next to the unconscious driver of the delivery van, bright uniform clouded with blotches of copper crimson blood. Two prisoners of the cannibal-spies. If I had breath to, I would have been sobbing.

I heard a dull noise behind me. Evidently, the father was saying something to the children. They protested once again in return.

"No, no! He stares! He stares! I think he is a witch! He must be a witch! He stares, and he talks, and we then have no money. He is using spells! He must be a witch! Do not help him, Papa!" they yelled.

"You know why you had to move school," said the father, "we needed the funds for our machines. It was no spell. We will help him."

'Thor's Beard!' I thought, 'Machines? What horrible machines of pain have they constructed here. How are they going to test me and see how Polarian bodies suffer when in pain and injured? What do they mean by help? What a cruel way of describing their activi-...'

"Listen, boy!" said he father, interrupting my train of thought and thrusting his face into mine, "If you can hear me, do not be scared! We were sent here by the Acquan government..."

'I knew it!'

"...to make health equipment without electricity so that we can make them back home. We have been collecting and copying your health equipment here as a result. Now, hold tight, we are going to look after you until the ambulance arrives, yes?"

'Healthcare? What?' I thought, 'What is he on about?'

My thoughts were then interrupted again by a terrible pain in my side. I looked down, the father was wrestling a drip feed into my arm against the backdrop of his children's screams.

I passed out.

So, you see, said the Storyteller, reputation works both ways. Respect is fine, awe, perhaps. But fear is not helpful. Too much respect for a reputation is not helpful. Appreciating Nethertopia's history is a measure that will likely warm you to your hosts, but please do not be too far in their shadow. You have a reputation of your own, do not forget, and they will likely be just as fearful of yours - more current as it is.

The players, seeing their error, resolved to go into the match with confidence. They could outplay Nethertopia, they knew in their hearts that in the here and now they were the better team. This was not the same Nethertopian side that was once rated one of the best in the multiverse, oh no.

With a respectful nod to their hosts' past glories, Jorgen Hauge led out his side to claim their own present glories.

[Groteberg]

Groteberg 1–0 Ko-oren
It was Matchday 5 when Ko-Oren were whom Groteberg defeated 1-0.
Goals Scored:
Charles Winston (1)