Independents Cup II [Everything Thread]

by **Schottia** » Wed Mar 29, 2017 11:24 am

Matchday One: Mercedini Side

Group A
Averyickan City 1–3 Mercedini
Kirisaki 0–2 Mampris

Group B
Union of Socialist Alpine Republics 1–2 Free Republics
Bonesea 2–0 The Iron Syndicate

Group C
Zaspeuwana 0–2 Zitru
Abanhfleft 1–1 Kitsunia-Deesse

Group D
Space 1–3 Kel Assuk
Tinhampton 1–0 United States of Devonta

by **Mercedini** » Wed Mar 29, 2017 12:18 pm

CUTOFF
Schottian Half: MD1

Today's Poetry In News

Roses are red,
Violets make me dazed...

Group E
Kebec 0–2 Hicaña
@ Ashley Road, New Belfast
Schottia 3–0 Kaboomlandia
@ Harbour Hill Stadium, Handon

Group E                      Pld   W  D  L   GF  GA  GD  Pts 
1 Schottia                       1   1  0  0    3   0  +3    3
2 Hicaña                         1   1  0  0    2   0  +2    3
3 Kebec                          1   0  0  1    0   2  −2    0
4 Kaboomlandia                   1   0  0  1    0   3  −3    0

Group F
Gim 0–1 New Lusitania & the Algarves
@ Lochend Stadium, Lochend
Drawkland 1–1 Spaam
@ Dyerton, Handon

Group F                      Pld   W  D  L   GF  GA  GD  Pts 
1 New Lusitania & the Algarves   1   1  0  0    1   0  +1    3
2 Drawkland                      1   0  1  0    1   1   0    1
  Spaam                          1   0  1  0    1   1   0    1
4 Gim                            1   0  0  1    0   1  −1    0

Group G
Kecrazia 0–3 Kalumba
@ Gannon Park, Soessch
Aupti 0–1 Velgouwen
@ Danu Park, La Gorla

Group G                      Pld   W  D  L   GF  GA  GD  Pts 
1 Kalumba                        1   1  0  0    3   0  +3    3
2 Velgouwen                      1   1  0  0    1   0  +1    3
3 Aupti                          1   0  0  1    0   1  −1    0
4 Kecrazia                       1   0  0  1    0   3  −3    0

Group H
Flardania 2–1 New Scaiva and Horshenwurst
@ Gauld Park, South Berwick
Scottopian Isles 1–3 Garifunya
@ The Rock Ground, South Berwick

Group H                      Pld   W  D  L   GF  GA  GD  Pts 
1 Garifunya                      1   1  0  0    3   1  +2    3
2 Flardania                      1   1  0  0    2   1  +1    3
3 New Scaiva and Horshenwurst    1   0  0  1    1   2  −1    0
4 Scottopian Isles               1   0  0  1    1   3  −2    0

by **The Iron Syndicate** » Wed Mar 29, 2017 12:33 pm

Our Great Divide

Chapter Two: Rise

The project to create a more talented national pool had taken an interesting turn for Drew C. The project involved drawing better athletes from all around the islands and territories and from all different sports, and they had pulled dozens of players from all over to complete that goal. Some of them had adapted better to football than others, but Drew was one that was surprisingly able to transition quickly to his new sport, while living in Portus and training with the staff that would eventually run the new national team. They had placed him at defensive midfielder, but he could play as a playmaker too, and he had played well enough that they were setting him up with a contract with Portus Central to further his career change.

And that change was bigger than Drew could have imagined, and it was still hard to believe, even as he officially joined the team for their first practice of the season. While the majority of the players had grown up with the implants that most Portites had, Drew had only just gotten his and he hadn’t yet gotten used to the heads up display that was now projecting itself over his vision, or the ability to alter his appearance just by speaking and making a quick transaction. It could be said that he was the odd man out on the team, regardless of his talent. But that didn’t change the fact that he was quickly becoming a popular figure among some of the more experienced players, who hadn’t seen someone like him around these parts before.

“Kid!” called out Alonso Cortes, the twenty eight year old winger that was likely to lead the team in goals this season. “I never found out, where is it that you’re from? One of the space territories? You have the territorial accent, that’s for sure. Don’t think I’ve met someone like you in person, before.”

“Aye, I’m from the Black Isle Station,” Drew replied with a nod, as the players started their warmups for the day and made their way into the massive indoor practice facility that had recently been renovated for Central. “The accent’s pretty distinct, yeah, but I could say the same about you guys’. When you’ve grown up around accented English and Territorial Creole, it’s hard to adjust to listening to the Portites like some of you.”

“Well, a lot of people, even some from the islands, would say the same. Red Hill certainly agrees with you. By the way, I’m Alonso… Alonso Cortes. You need any help with the area, with the tech, I’m the guy to come to. I spent most of my life in and around Portus, so I can explain the ins and outs of this city and island.”

“Thanks, I’ll remember that. I think I could use some help with this tech, though. I have no idea how any of you concentrate through these heads up displays,” Drew says, and as if on cue, another message from his family pops up and blocks the top part of his vision.

Alonso just laughed at that, gesturing to show Drew what to do. “You have to hide that thing during the games, man. Just swipe it away, it moves with your gestures. Or use a voice command. Most of us don’t play with those things on, except for Lucy. I have no idea how she does it, but she’s played with a full HUD since getting here.”

Right now, Drew’s vision was blocked by a number of things. The HUD was showing his vitals, a number of proximity arrows, his messages, his Iron Net feed, his bank balance, and a few smaller things that fit between all of that. One by one, he imitated Alonso’s gesture and swiped away every panel except for the proximity arrows and the panel at the side that showed his messages. “Damn, Lucy, you have my respect…”

Lucy Silverstone, the latest in the line of a family that was known for sports, business, and politics, just chuckled and shrugged at him. “At least you have the version of the HUD that the upper classes like us footballers get. You wouldn’t know this, because the territories don’t have this tech at all, but in the islands, they have different versions for different classes. Those of us on the islands who would be considered middle class always get a different version of the tech, and theirs blocks their vision all the time with ads. And if you don’t want your vision to get blocked, you have to accept advertisements and other dumb shit getting overlaid on everything that you look at. Like… You might look at a blank wall, but your implants project a Zombie Energy ad onto it. Or you look at a car, and see energy advertisements appearing on the side.”

After seeing the bewildered expression on Drew’s face, Lucy laughed and continued explaining some of the ins and outs of Portum to him. “You see, everyone in the Syndicate is linked to the database and to Iron Net, but the islands… They’re way more connected than the territories. These HUDS don’t just display stuff like what you saw, but they also project a lot of things to keep everything really connected to Iron Net and to the databases. You can see how much something costs compared to your bank account when you’re shopping, you can see how different foods will impact your vitals, and you can access the internet and make social posts from just about anywhere. It’s really cool, you just have to get used to it.”

“I’ll take yer word on that,” said Drew, who hadn’t really known that the technology went this far on the islands. “Sounds like one big threat to get hacked, for me. And, well, everything being connected to the government’s social network sounds kind of creepy. How much of this stuff gets stored on a server somewhere by the upper brass of the Syndicate?”

“All of it, mate. It’s pretty useful, actually, because you get tailored suggestions for different things. If you go shopping, you get suggestions for things based on what you’ve bought in the past. If you spend go out with someone else, your HUD can suggest similar friends to you based on comparing Iron Net profiles. I honestly think I wouldn’t last a week without my devices and my HUD.”

To someone that had never had this kind of tech before, all of that just sounded creepy. For the people of the territories, life was simpler than it was here. There was no tailored advertising, invasive data mining, or HUD projections that you had to pay to remove. Hell, not even everyone had a HUD in the first place in Black Isle. “Eh, I think I’ll opt out of that. I was pretty happy with how things were back home. If I want to need to know what to buy, I'll make a list or something.”

“Your loss, Drew,” shrugged Lucy, smiling at him and showing off her perfectly white set of teeth. She was a strange looking person, to someone from Black Isle. If there was an implant, you could be sure that she had it. She had artificially pink hair, artificially purple eyes, a matching purple tongue that almost had a sort of strange glow to it, and a slim but athletic figure that had almost certainly been obtained through weight control implants. Coming from the richest of the rich, it made sense that she'd be the one to have every imaginable kind of tech. “You ever want help figuring this stuff out, you can still call me though. I'm always here to help you out.”

“Ooooh, do I hear you flirting with the new guy?” asked the team’s nineteen year old top goalkeeper prospect, Ty Boldsword. Despite being young, Ty never had any problems letting everyone know exactly what was on his mind. That was both a blessing and a curse, something that often brought him to the attention of the older players but that also often annoyed those same players. “I never thought I would see the day when a Silverstone is flirting with someone from Black Isle-”

“Pipe down, boy,” Lucy replied quickly, calling Ty a boy even though she was barely older than him. She rolled her eyes and glanced at him from her peripheral vision, flicking her hair back in a somewhat sassy gesture. “You need to learn when to talk and when to keep your thoughts to yourself-”

“Why so serious, Luce?” Ty asked, squaring up and getting in Lucy’s face as she complained. There weren’t many people, on or off of this team, that would openly challenge a Silverstone like this. Especially not someone that was younger than the one they were challenging, who had everything to lose from a dispute with a big name celebrity like one of the younger members of the Silverstone family. As Ty challenged her and leaned into her face, it was like the training facility was frozen in time. Nobody moved, nobody talked, and everyone was staring at the one spot where the confrontation was happening.

“Back off,” Lucy said, with all of the authority of someone from one of the most powerful and rich families in the entire Syndicate. The two continued to stare each other down, Ty looking down slightly at the shorter young woman, and her looking up and glaring right into his eyes. “You want a fight? I’ll give you one, you peasant. You don’t know what the fuck you’re messing with here-”

Nobody could tell who shoved first, but whatever happened, Lucy ended up on her back in a few seconds and Ty would have been going to ground to finish the fight quickly if it wasn’t for getting pulled back by another teammate, one of the stronger central defenders named Jerome Ford. “Hey, hey, we don’t need any fights here,” he said, speaking to both Ty and Lucy. “I look away for a few seconds and this is what I get. If you all could not act like children, that would be nice. We’re Central fucking Portus, we have a target on our back from every other club in the country. Let’s focus on fighting all of them, not each other.”

“Well said,” states Alonso, clapping in a way that was hard to distinguish from being sarcastic or genuine. “However, it would also be nice if certain people could stop acting so damn spoiled and learn to take banter. News flash, family background isn’t important on the pitch. Being a Silverstone doesn’t automatically give you an out to shut up anyone that annoys you, nor does being older. If you want to make everything about your celebrity status, you can head straight to Sporting Ceres.”

“So I’m the bad guy for bringing up my family, but Ty doesn’t need an attitude adjustment at all?” asked Lucy, climbing up from the ground and dusting herself off. “Fuck outta here with that. It’s not just right now, Ty’s always being arrogant and cocky-”

“Because he’s earned that through his skill. You, on the other hand, expect respect for nothing-”

“Nothing? Have you seen me in the sims? You’re on my side for this, right, Drew?”

Drew just shrugged, raising his hands to show that he was a neutral party in this. “Sorry, Lucy, this ain’t my fight. I just go there, I’m in no mood to make enemies already. Can I just say that all of ya are my friends and that I’m neutral in all this arguing?”

“Wise choice, Drew,” Alonso nodded, before looking back to Lucy. “Sims don’t count as game experience. The fact that we know that is why we’re the top club in the city and the country. As I said, if you want to brag about your family and how good you are in a glorified video game, you can walk right out of this facility right now and go to Sporting Ceres. I’m sure Ricky Eaststar would love to have someone like you on his team. Understood?”

“Whatever,” Lucy huffed, rolling her eyes as some of the staff started to come over to check out the commotion. “I don’t expect to hear another speech like this after I prove myself in our opener, though. Or after I rise to the top midfield spot. It’s going to happen. You don’t believe me, but it’s going to happen.”

“Those are fighting words, Luce,” remarked Drew, and that seemed to annoy her even more as their manager got there.

“It seems that there’s a problem over here?” asked Christopher Blackstar, who had been in charge at Central for the past three seasons. “We couldn’t last a full day without the new players getting into some kind of trouble, could we? Lucy, you’ve been around us long enough to know that we on the staff don’t appreciate you picking fights and boasting about your family. And Drew, I have to thank you for not going full Territorial and knocking someone out after this scuffle broke out. After all, I’m aware of your background in fighting.”

“I do know when to pull my punches, even with my past experience fighting,” shrugged Drew, nonchalantly. “Now, like I said… This ain't my right, y'all are going to have to sort this out yourselves. I'd rather not end up with enemies after my first training session… I'm just here to compete for a spot on the team, for now.”

~

The Central Portus training camp seemed to go on and on, and different new additions that had signed short term contracts ended up washing out quicker than they had thought was possible, but one of the players that was still there was Drew. The only Territorial player to make it into the final squad by the time the season was here, Drew was exactly what the Syndicate wanted when they began recruiting for footballers and looking to the stars for new players. They were looking for ones like him, who didn't have the same technical skills as everyone else on the islands but had a certain kind of conditioning that you needed to have if you were to win at the international level.

Everyone knew the Syndicate had the best tech around, and the players all had good technical skills from spending hundreds of hours in the simulators, but those simulators didn't build strength or help with conditioning. They were a world class talent pool if only technical skill was being considered, but the truth was that it was impossible to come close to being world class without having the conditioning to match the ball skills and mental skills that the Syndicate’s footballers had, at even the amateur levels. And so they shipped in players like Drew, who played a rougher game from an area that didn't have the same technological advantages that Portum and every other island did.

Drew played in the typical style of someone from Black Isle, as a hard hitting defensive midfielder that wasn't afraid to put his own body on the line to stop his opponent. And he wasn't afraid of breaking some bones with his tackles and aerial duels, either. Yes, he hadn't played in the simulators all the time like the pros from Central had, and he hadn't learned the art of dribbling from the time before he could walk, like they had, but he had something that they didn't: pure strength, great conditioning, and a high motor that always had him running from one end of the pitch to the other. It made him the type of player that the fans loved to cheer for and that opponents hated to face, and it also earned him a year long contract with Central.

Additionally, he was learning the benefits to fame. For the first time in his life, he was no longer a person that was overlooked. Before, nobody had even said hi to him when he entered the room, like in school or when visiting others. Now, crowds would form around him on the streets and he was immediately spotted whenever he stepped into a restaurant or a bar. Sure, it could get annoying sometimes, but he'd take the fame and not being able to turn it off over being completely irrelevant and having the feeling that nobody could care less about if he was there or not. He'd also become a famous figure back home, and he was getting plenty of messages on Iron Net from fans back home and from people who knew him there that were showing him support. And girls from the islands wouldn't give him the time of day before, but now he was like a magnet for them.

Right now, as he was thinking of those changes, he was talking to one of those girls that was now interested in him because of his newfound success. Zandra Lux was her name, and she was part of the team rather than just a fan girl from the outside. “So you're telling me the team hires pretty girls like you ever season to travel with the squad and run after them to make sure that they're taken care of? What does that entail?” he asked, as the two of them walked out of the training facility and towards the parking lot, where she was going to give him a ride back to his new apartment.

“Basically, it means that we do everything we can to keep the players comfortable and focused on their careers instead of unnecessary stuff. You know the rumors about how spoiled footballers on the islands are? They're all true. We’ll cook for them, drive them around, provide ‘companionship’, train with them outside of the official practices, do the shopping for them, and some other stuff,” explained Zandra. “It sounds like a lot of work, but it's worth it because the club is filthy rich and they pay accordingly. And as far as I know, most of the girls serving as ‘interns’ like to hang around players all the time. I mean, it is a pretty decent deal when the alternative is selling your body to pay rent, even though we're kind of doing it already. Living in Portum isn't cheap, especially in downtown Portus.”

“Oh, I think I wouldn't know about that because the team paid for my apartment. All I know is that housing in Black Isle is cheap, but that's because there's no good houses unless you go into some gated community that wants to charge an arm and a leg just to get in,” shrugged Drew. “This isn't your full time job?”

“It is for now. I work for the Shadow Corporation, which believe it or not is actually named for its shady business practices. They do some legal stuff, some illegal stuff, but I've always been on the shady side of it. My parents were investors that were locked up for a long time on insider trading charges, and this is how I'm keeping myself from either going homeless or having to leave the island because of not having their cash to pay the bills with. It's an alright, life, though. I really like the city, and it's where I've lived for awhile now. Getting to experience the glimmer of the city and the football club, even from a distance, has always been fun for me-”

They were interrupted when they were approached by a rough looking man, who seemed to be from either the same place as Drew or one of the other territories that was known for being run down and impoverished. As Drew looked closer, he realized that he likely knew the young man from back home, but now, he was wondering how he had managed to make it to the big city in the center of the islands. “Drew, you remember me, right?” he asked, in his strong colonial accent that identified him as someone that had at one time, or maybe right now, lived on the surface of one of the planets controlled by the Syndicate. The accent was deep and raspy, and Drew obviously understood it more than Zandra. “It's been a long time since we've seen each other or talked… But I came all the way here to see you, and I have a proposal. Come on, let's talk.”

by **Scottopian Isles** » Wed Mar 29, 2017 12:54 pm

Number - Name - Position - Club Team
#1 Andrew Rimandos - Goalkeeper - Real Junipero Serra
#2 Graham Armstrong - Defender - Port Elisabeth
#3 Douglas McEdison - Defender - New Greenock FC
#4 Richard Goulding - Defender - Cuidad de Fresno
#5 Kyle Santos - Midfield - MacKenzie City
#6 Angus Ferguson - Midfield - Urquhart Rampants
#7 Scott McCulloch - Midfield - Rangers FC
#8 Jakob Van Drimmlin - Midfield - Paradise City
#9 Allistar Peterson - Forward - Scottopia City
#10 Micheal Baxters- Forward - Scottopia City
#11 Nick Hernandez - Forward - New Greenock United
#12 Andy Castle - Goalkeeper - Rangers FC
#13 Ian Jonstone - Defender - Colchester Landing FC
#14 Craig White - Defender - New Greenock FC
#15 Jaun Navarro - Defender - Deportivo Stockton
#16 Brian Moore - Midfield - Rangers FC
#17 Vince Loufall - Midfield - New Greenock United
#18 Paul Callaghan - Midfiled - Paradise City
#19 Clint Kingsbury - Forward - MacKenzie City
#20 Ken Hugen - Forward - Milpitas Bay
#21 Chris MacKenzie - Forward - Port-au-Prosperite
#22 David Watt - Forward - Scottopia City
#23 Marc Snelders - Goalkeeper - Jandara FC

Manager: Stuart Rafferty
Assistant Manager: Alberto Garcia
Team Medic: Dr. Jamie McCalvin

Style: +2.5
Formation: 3-4-3

Choose my Goalscorers: Yes
Godmod Scoring Events: Yes
Godmod Injuries to my Players: Yes
Godmod Yellow Cards to my Players: Yes
Godmod Red Cards to my Players: Yes
Godmod Other Events: Yes

by **Kitsunia-Deesse** » Wed Mar 29, 2017 2:39 pm

KITSUNIA-DEESSE'S CUP OF HARMONY 69 ROSTER
LES GUERRIERS


STARTERS
Num.	Pos.	Name				Species		Team
01	GK	Danette PASCAL			Bravian		Santerbourg Frontière
02	RB	Arantxa DURANT			Kitsune		Lorient Vulpina
03	CB	Claire-Lee SHIN-NAGORESC	Kitsune		Pone-de-Pon Magdamallet
04	CB	Jean Claude CHEVEAUXCOURTS	Kitsune		Cápitale Légion
05	LB	Yo-Lei HAN-DI			Kitsune		Yi-Pin Fumani (CAPTAIN)
06	DM	Nepissé SILANDÉ			Óscean		Glore Citadelles
07	CM	Doge BRAUNSCHWENKER		Basswulf	Ostreine Juvene
08	OM	Claude TRAFFIKANT		Basswulf	Wolfenstade Ehrgeiz
09	CF	Salvatorina REDIVILLANTE	Kitsune		Montblanc Sting
10	ST	Marie MÓNTPELLIER		Kitsune		Mortiise Reapere
11	CF	Fantina ZIROME			Kitsune		Guerriers Aztèques
BENCH
12	GK	Collie FELICITINNEAUX		Kitsune		Diablette Enmais
13	RB	Marc WISÉAUX			Kitsune		Bonanza Saints
14	CB	Bonksie GRAPHITER		Basswulf	Université de l'Arts
15	CB	Séammussie ARANAWAY		Marille		Neuf Solleana Eliséns
16	CB	Phillip VOLLARDINEU		Bravian		Caen Draveurs
17	LB	Shasha SOCIETISRESTIZÉ		Óscean		En Avant Fortune
18	DM	Jiamez LaVIEDEGUERRE		Kitsune		Montblanc Sting
19	CM	Néophille LeMISER		Óscean		FC Étoile-du-Nord 96
20	OM	Hanami LORENEAUX		Kitsune		Cápitale Légion
21	CF	Kliff REPAIRDINNERELDER		Basswulf	Croix Rouge Hélvetique
22	CF	Claire SAINT-LUNA		Kitsune		Joumex Panteroux
23	CF	Levi ANSISTEÁRANCE		Kitsune		Catavelles La Velle
--	COACH	La Déesse XI, CLARE		Kitsune		NONE				Style: +1

RP PERMISSIONS
Don't kill or injure them for too long. Cards are fine, zanny goals are even better. Also, no ideas on Kitsunia-Deesse's fertile land. Gracias.

"...Uh."

The eleventh La Déesse was certainly... confused.

"...Shouldn't there be... you know..." she asked to her assistant, Maurelinne-Déesse's Déesse, the still pretty young Marie Tempêté, "the ones that play outside of the country?"
"Eheh..." The younger kitsune looked a bit embarrassed towards the slightly more experienced leader. "I'm... I'm sorry... But the teams refused our request for them to play."
"B-but... It's an important tournament..." She muttered, so the players didn't notice her lack of trust on them. "I needed them here if I want to win it."
"Well... You know the first rule of a Déesse." Her reply was just as low as the tone used by Clare. "We can't force them to change."
Clare sighed, going past each of the players as they stood on a line.
Some of them were former Under-18 players, although they couldn't call the one that got to play outside of the country...
...
To be fair, she couldn't even remember the name of that one.
Most of the squad was composed of rather new faces and were playing on the lower leagues.
Clare imagined the LMF-K sides mostly had none of it as well.
She took another sigh as she stopped right in front of Bonksie Graphiter.
She sniffed around.
"...You smell like-"
"I smell like paint?" The Basswulf rudely stopped her mid-sentence. "I'm sort of a painter at my-"
"University." Clare replied back, looking up to the defender with some snark, mostly because of how he towered over the still growing Déesse. "I'm La Déesse, I know everything!"
"Figures." He scoffed back.
She moved forward, now stopping in front of Repairdinnerelder.
"..."
Kliff started to sweat buckets.
In a way, he feared what he'd hear from La Déesse.
He saw himself as a repairman kitsune after all.
No business on a football field.
"..."
She smiled.
"No need to fear me, Kliff."
He took a relieved breather.
"That eases things... Thanks."
She continued her inspection, finally seeing a very familiar face.
"Fantina Zirome."
The experienced center-forward smiled.
"Awaiting orders, La Déesse ma'am."
La Déesse smiled.
"Does win the Independents Cup sounds like some proper orders?" She jokingly asked.
Fantina laughed a bit, nodding.

by **Spaam** » Wed Mar 29, 2017 11:42 pm

"¿Cómo te sientes, amigo? Jugando para los grandes Spaamanians!"
"How do you feel, friend? Playing for the great Spaamanians!"

"Estoy emocionado, Núñez, nuestros nuevos compañeros han sido tan buenos para nosotros."
"I'm excited, Nunez, our new comrades have been so good to us."

"Entonces vamos, Coco. ¡Es hora de juego!"
"Then let's go, Coco. It's game time!"

TWEEEEEEET! "Penalty, and that is a yellow card, number seven."

"Coco! What did you do?!"

"Sorry, captain. I just went in too hard. Madison looked like she was clear to score."

"You've got to be more careful, we can't afford to lose you to a red card!"

"Sorry, sorry."

"Forget it, just get in there, she's got a killer penalty kick."

"Sure thing, Reyen."

"Coco, aquí, a mi lado!"
"Coco, over here, next to me!"

"¡Viene, Moreira!"
"Coming, Moreira!"

"¡Mantenga sus ojos en la bola, ella es un diablo con esa cosa!"
"Keep your eyes on the ball, she is a devil with that thing!"

"No te preocupes, amigo, todavía podemos ganar este juego."
"Don't worry about it, friend, we can still win this game."

"Sí, lo sé, Núñez. Sólo me siento responsable. ¡Fui un estúpido!"
"Yes, I know, Nunez. I just feel responsible. I was stupid!"

"¡Está en el pasado! Sólo asegúrese de que no anoten más!"
"It is in the past! Just make sure they don't score any more!"

TWEEEEET!

"Sehelin! ¡Asombroso! That was incredible!"

"Thanks, Coco! There's still time, we got this!"

"Sí! Let's go!"

"So, Coco. How do you feel after our first game?"

"I'm pretty happy, Fenzana, but I'm sad we didn't win."

"We've never beaten Drawkland, so don't worry about it."

"I know, but if I hadn't given them the penalty..."

"Hey, forget it! We've all been there. Important thing is, we got the point. Let's go celebrate!"

"Free-loader."

"Elzeros, what did you say? Hey, I'm talking to you!"

"Coco, leave him. He's not worth it."

by **Scottopian Isles** » Thu Mar 30, 2017 8:48 am

The final whistle blew and the Garifunya support erupted into their cheers, of which they had held high since placing their 3rd and final goal into the net just minutes from full time. The Scottopian manager, Stuart Rafferty, stood on the sidelines with a disappointing gaze in his eyes, watching as the same disappointment run off his players faces. He turned around towards Michel Bouwers, the 48 year old manager of the opposition. A respectful nod as he extended his hands for a handshake with him..."Well done, your players posses a lot of talent. Best of luck in the tournament" said Rafferty as the players made their ways to the locker rooms.

He turned once more to the crowds, and gave the Scottopian fans a wave. His lips tightened to hold back the emotion of letting them down. They had made the long journey to the Rock Ground in South Berwick, Schottia to see their team be better played, and most were not impressed. A mix of boo's and cheers for the Manager who was entering his 3rd year with the national side. He had to do better, he had to bring a win in the next game to keep any hope of advancing alive. With a final wave, he turned and followed his team into the tunnel.

Upon entering, his team was deflated. The boys were tired, their blue jerseys were grass & sweat stained. They had pushed most of the game in a fight back style after going down 2-0. Hugen had slipped one in for the Scottopians off a cheeky cross that caught the other team off guard. Although at first it did give them hope of making a 2nd goal soon after, a tough game in the center of the pitch made it difficult for either team to advance into the attacking third. Finally, the Garifunya squad had broken the deadlock on the field and solidified the game by taking away all 3 points from the contest after scoring the 4th goal of the night. He pondered if he had chosen wisely starting with the same line ups from the AstyCup Qualifiers back home in Astyria.

They had played a game just 2 days before travelling across the world to Schottia, and some had been playing for their clubs a few days prior to that. With just 5 weeks left on the domestic season, they were pushing their bodies to the limits as their was no International Break yet for another month. He decided to make a change, a redraw of the squad to give the exhausted players a break and switch with fresh legs. Instead of ragging on, being knocked out of the IAC and then returning to their own qualifying tournament with a worn out team, he pulled a quick roster for the next game by simply looking at how his players were reacting. HIs plan to rest his key players backfired with the loss and now a goal differnce of -2, but that wouldnt stop the Scottopians from making their comeback. The top squad would be going into the next frenzy.

"Well boys its tough but you've made it past the first hurdle. It wasnt the result we wanted, but remember we are just down, not out. We still have to play against Flardania as well as New Scaiva & Horshenwurst in the coming days, we still can make it out of the group stage alive. Everyone hit the showers, except the following...."

The manager called off the roster for his next match. The formation and style of the team would remain the same but a new squad would enter the pitch in the coming nights.

Number - Name - Position - Club Team
#1 Andrew Rimandos - Goalkeeper - Real Junipero Serra
#2 Graham Armstrong - Defender - Port Elisabeth
#3 Douglas McEdison - Defender - New Greenock FC
#4 Richard Goulding - Defender - Cuidad de Fresno
#5 Kyle Santos - Midfield - MacKenzie City
#6 Angus Ferguson - Midfield - Urquhart Rampants
#7 Scott McCulloch - Midfield - Rangers FC
#8 Jakob Van Drimmlin - Midfield - Paradise City
#9 Allistar Peterson - Forward - Scottopia City
#10 Micheal Baxters- Forward - Scottopia City
#11 Nick Hernandez - Forward - New Greenock United

by **Kalumba** » Thu Mar 30, 2017 9:28 am

On The Lash With The Lads

Here we go again, starting so well, getting all the hopes up soon to be followed by a demoralising draw and then a tame defeat to end agonisingly short of reaching the knock out stages of the cup. But let's stay happy for the moment and rejoice in the fact that the young lads are firing much like they do back home for the Spears.

Kabila and Watusi finally clicked together for the national side like they do for Kahali Spears and they alone proved too much for Kecrazia, with Watusi firing in two and creating the third for Kabila with a beautiful backheel. It really is a joy to watch the team clicking like they do at home where they have dominated the premiership for the last four years.

If they can keep this form up for the next game alone and produce another win Kalumba will progress further than they ever have in a tournament since the 43rd Baptism of Fire, having never reached the knock out stages proper of the Cup of Harmony and still failed to qualify for the World Cup proper.

Just one more win, that's all we fans ask. We don't demand the team come home with silverware from every tournament, or even expect them to qualify for the World Cup. We know full well that our small country cannot hope to compete for major trophies without major investment in footballing infrastructure, but just to have the thrill of a knock out game would be a reward for us who spend our lives neglecting our jobs and our families to follow the lads around the world.

Here's hoping,

Mr Spleen

by **Kel Assuk** » Thu Mar 30, 2017 2:23 pm

They Rose from the Desert
Chapter Two: Eric Meets the Team

Eric sped towards the Queen Dihya National Sports Complex on the outskirts of Marandet. He at least partially expected a decrepit stadium half falling apart at its timbers and poorly-watered practice fields, but what he encountered surprised him. In front of him was a modern stadium, enough to hold 40,000 people, as well as several well-maintained practice fields. He whistled in awe at the spectacle, which definitely exceeded his expectations. Maybe this job wouldn't be so bad after all, he thought to himself. But deep inside him, he still thought that he would have a lot of work to do with the team. First of all, he didn't think that Kel Assuk had that good of a youth development structure, or that much of a development structure at all. As far as he knew, Kel Assuk's league was semi-professional, meaning that most of the players would be employed in some other pursuits, with less time devoted to football. With football being such a minor sport until fairly recently in the nation, Eric also thought that the stadium might be something of a white elephant, built unwisely with oil money but then left to sit unused; the team might have even go so far as to rely on foreign players for the base of the team.

Then there were the cultural barriers. Although the KABS had thrown Eric into a crash course on Amalen culture, he was unsure that he knew the culture of the players enough to adequately coach them, and he worried intensely that he would commit a cultural faux pas and get fired for offending a diety, or spirit, or god or something with some snide remark, totally unintended. The Amalen might have a totally different respect for authority; for all he know, the team might just laugh at him and totally ignore his advice. Plus, he was a white Westerner, a Schottian in a world of Amalen; Eric didn't know the Amalen's view on race, so he feared they might look down on him as backward and uncivilized, just as many Westerners had looked down on the Amalen in decades prior, and, to some extent, still look down on the Muslim religion. The language barrier worried him the most - Eric didn't speak Amalen at all, and he didn't think any of the players spoke English. If they did, it was probably halting and would be a pain in the posterior to communicate with them without an interpreter. He stood around, staring at his watch, nervously pacing the ground outside the stadium, waiting for an interpreter to show up, but none did.

He was about to call the KASB on his phone and irately demand that they send him an interpreter, but at that moment, a man with a traditional Amalen blue turban and veil scurried toward him. At first, Eric thought he was a woman, wondered briefly why a woman would be coming out to greet him, and then remembered from his Amalen culture lessons that men were usually veiled in Amalen culture, not women. "Mr. Desmond?" he asked. "Yeah, that's me," Eric casually replied. "Please come this way." "Of course." He followed the man through a warren of hallways in the back of the stadium before emerging out of the stadium and onto a side practice pitch. On the pitch, twenty-three players in the ugliest kits Eric had ever seen were warming up on the field. "Gentlemen," the veiled man said, to no response, in English, which surprised Eric. "Gentlemen?" he said again, somewhat louder, but again to general apathy. "GENTLEMEN!" he yelled. That finally got their attention, and they stopped their exercises and congregated around Eric and the man. "May I introduced to you your new manager, Eric Desmond. He will be directing your training from now on. Please give him your undivided attention, and treat him with respect. Be tolerant with him, this is a new experience for all parties involved."

Eric was still puzzling why the veiled man was speaking in English, and came to the conclusion that it was for his own benefit, when a medium-height, somewhat heavyset man walked up to him and shook his hand. "Karim Khattabi," he said, "the captain of this team," in Shalumite-accented English. "Pleased to meet you. I hope we can develop a warm relationship," he said, without a stutter or indecision. Eric, momentarily struck by Khattabi's good English, took a second or two to respond before taking the man's outstretched hand. They vigorously shook hands. "Nice to meet you," Eric replied firmly. He quickly glanced around the team, noticing some very young faces staring back at him, before starting to speak. "As you may already know, my name is Eric Desmond, and the Kel Assuk Board of Sport has appointed me to be your new manager."

"First of all, we need to get some new kits. Let's go to Meski or somewhere and get some kits that actualy look good on you guys. I hate to ask, but who designed these current kits?" "The Board of Sport, who else do you think?" a voice responded, sarcastically, out of the team. "They don't have a sense of fashion, I'm afraid." "And do you, my friend? What's your name?" "Saden Khalej." "Alright, Saden, we'd better let them know this, so they can get some new kits designed, shouldn't we?" Saden nodded. "I hate these kits too, don't worry, Mr. Desmond."

"You guys can call me Eric. I'm alright with that." "But, Mr. Desmond, you're our superior. We ought to give you a sign of respect," another voice rang out. "And, Mr. ---?" "Ait Ahmed. Seyni Ait Ahmed." "Like the country Ceni?" "No, no, no. SAY-ni. Not SEN-ni." "I see, Seyni. You may call me Eric. I'm too young to deserve the title of Mister. It makes me feel older. Besides, I feel that you shouldn't give me respect unconditionally. I should have to earn it. With that being said, I do not expect snickering, name-calling, or anything else like that, and I do expect you to listen to me politely. I will expect myself, in turn, to treat you with respect, if you at least give me some of yours. The rest, I shall endeavor to earn. Clear?" "Yes sir!" the team responded in one voice. "Titles make me feel old!" Eric repeated, "You don't have to call me Mister or Sir. Just Eric will do, if you insist you can call me Desmond."

"With that understood, here's my game plan. I want to get to know every member of this team well - personally and professionally. I want to know where each and every one of you fits into the team so we can be working as a whole unit, not as individual players. And I want to challenge you both physically and mentally - improve both your physical and mental fitness in this enterprise. To do that, we need to train more often than you're used to doing. It will be a challenge, but I want to challenge you. Any questions? Good. Let's get started."

by **Schottia** » Fri Mar 31, 2017 5:54 am

Ruination

Part Nine

Sanitary products, toilet paper and a carton of wine - not even a bottle, a fucking carton.

Karen looked down at the shopping-basket and wondered if this were the most depressing assortment of items ever assembled. The cheapest seventy centilitres of wine in the supermarket, a visual reminder that her body clock was running down, and something to wipe your arse.

She stopped dead, in the middle of the frozen foods aisle. She couldn't possible go to the checkout with this. Maybe this was her life in a nutshell, but she didn't feel ready to let the sales assistant know that. She reached inside her jacket pocket and counted her coins once more. Eleven sixty. She could pay on her card, but then she would be eating into her Friday night pub fund. Karen did another quick subtotal in her head, and rounding up, she was probably at about nine fifty. There was a little leeway, but she would rather not push it. The only thing worse than bringing this cry-for-help of a shopping basket up to the cashier, would be having to put something back because she couldn't afford it. Maybe she could add something a little healthier to counterbalance the wine, something of sustenance. When Karen was a student, she had always bought a pint of milk and an apple whenever she went to the corner shop to buy a bottle of gin, to try and kid on that it was part of her normal shopping. She often thought back to those times, living with four other girls in that flat just off Calton Road. It wasn't unusual for them to share a bottle of gin between them before heading out, not getting back home before four or five in the morning. Somehow she would still get to her lecture by nine o’clock. The thought of going to work with a hangover these days filled her with mortal terror.

There had been nets of satsuma's for a pound on display as she came in; if she wanted to try and dilute the basket? Maybe a single banana? No! Fuck it! Why should she be embarrassed? She didn't pay extra for the judgment, the cashier could think whatever they liked.

Karen gritted her teeth and marched up to the checkout. It was eight in the evening, on a weekday, and as a result the place was almost deserted. The shop seemed somehow ghostly, with all but one of the long bank of checkouts unoccupied. The pre-recorded in store radio, had an echoy, tinny effect, as it blared down from the roof-mounted speakers into the shop's deserted aisles. She could only imagine that working here, in the evenings, felt like being buried alive.

Karen dropped her basket into the holder at the end and threw her items onto the conveyor belt. Despite the fact the young sales assistant could easily reach them, he still activated the moving belt, as if on autopilot. Given what she did for a living, if there were anyone who could sympathise, it was Karen. Once you had repeated the same set of lines thirty times a week, for four years, you didn't really take much time to think about what you were doing.

She unzipped her haversack and moved to the end of the belt, determined to get out of here as quickly as she could. Once she was home, with her carton of wine speed-chilling in the freezer, the day would finally be nearing its end.

'Is the wine any good?' The young man asked with what seemed like genuine curiosity, as he scanned it through.

'No.' Karen replied coldly, then added before he could ask why she was buying it. 'It's quite acidy, but if you chill it down, you don't really notice.' She held out her handful of coins, dropping them into the man's hand before he even had a chance give her the total. 'Thanks.'

'You want you're receipt?' The cashier asked as a matter of course.

Karen shook her head. 'Cheers,' she said finally, zipping up her bag and slinging it on her back. She pulled her hood up, and prepared to face the drizzling rain outside.

SBCNEWS Online...
Football special - Independents Cup II

Schottia 3-1 Kaboomlandia @ Harbour Hill Stadium, Handon
Line-up: McNott, Watt, Doig, Souter, Paul, Conjure, McDonald, Coultan (Luna), Rudden (Rexmont), Killanen, McCormack (Brankovič)
Goals: McCormack, Coultan, Brankovič

Schottia were facing questions, as they went into their first match with Kaboomlandia, a side they only narrowly defeated two years ago. The Schottic players were used to very little in the way of expectation, so suddenly finding themselves defending a title, and ranked 11th in the world, certainly saw them moving into new territory. What's more, they were going to have to do it without their top scorer over the last three years, Corinne Martel-Burns. Never known as a paragon of composure, the 21-year-old is currently facing trial in Quebec following an altercation with a fan. Despite her absence, the squad was looking fairly strong; and with only a few new faces in the line up, it seemed that Lionel Mah was taking this tournament very seriously.

After a good cycle four years ago, The Phoenix seem to have gone a little quiet as of late, and after a nervy opening ten minutes, Schottia managed to get a hold on the match. Using home advantage to good effect, the Auks got that all important first half goal, which allowed their supporters to sit a little more easy. In a long, sweeping move, an angled through-ball from Evelyn Conjure found Eoin Killanen in space down the right flank. Running on to the ball, the Mâ Âlâmëómë attacker showed a great change of pace, threading the ball into the path of John McCormack to open the scoring. Filling in for Martel-Burns, the Centralis Heart striker hit the ball first time, clattering his shot in off the near post. Schottia are undoubtedly an improved side, and the work rate and running, which Mah demands, was clearly on show in the opening half. However, despite a great chance for Chloe Rudden, the sides went up the tunnel with the scores at 1-0; the Sabrefell Athletic star being unable to keep her 38 minute strike down.

In the second half, Schottia survived a couple of early scares, and went on to extend their lead. Paul Doig's long-throws had been causing problems all day long, and on the hour mark, he was given the perfect angle to rocket another one into the box. Centreback-come-centreforward, Gareth Souter, was of course up for the set play, and despite not being able to find the target with his header, it cannoned back into the path of Kim Coultan who made it two. The Crawford City playmaker, in her preferred role just off the striker, found herself in the right place at the right time, to roll the ball into the back of the net.

As the second goal went in, it seemed to have the effect of lifting some of the pressure off the Schottian shoulders - and with the addition of Višnja Brankovič and Camila Luna - they were able to press home their advantage. The two almost combined to perfectly within moments of stepping on the pitch, but the Eastern Stars forward headed inches wide. Brankovič, who plies her trade in the Avon Isles these days, has never exactly been know for her aerial abilities. However, when she got a second bite at the cherry, ten minutes from time, she made no mistake. With Killanen's cross played along the ground this time, the 28-year-old was able to stab the ball home for Schottia's third and final goal. We haven't really seen much of Brankovič in a Schottia top, but she showed the home supporters just why she has been so prolific in south east Rushmore.

Next up for Schottia are Kebec, a somewhat unknown package, so it will be interesting to see how the team handle them. There are definitely going to be challenges in the road ahead over the next two weeks, but Mah's boys and girls will take some heart from this opening performance.

works? · by **Abanhfleft** » Fri Mar 31, 2017 5:59 am

Alternative Football, Part One

Samahang Futbol ng Abanhfleft headquarters
220 Yuschee Avenue, Government Compound
Riuwiee, Abanhfleft

Heinrich Wurzmann was, as of the moment, a happy camper. He had done all that he had wanted to achieve and more. Well, technically, he didn’t achieve everything that he wanted to achieve, but seeing as he had already managed to hit many of his personal goals and such, he was still a happy camper all the same.

No one had heard of neither Heinrich Wurzmann nor the Independents Cup at the start of the year 2019 but at the end of it, Wurzmann had made damn well sure that everyone not only knew about the Indepedents but also his name and his personal project, the Alternative Football Program. Heinrich Wurzmann was not Fleftic but Pridnestrovian, having emigrated to Riuwiee following the rise of President Field Marshal Stepan Stepanovich Stepanenko to the presidency of the country. Wurzmann was a decent enough football player but his true passion lay in management and finding hidden gems in places where no one else would think to look. It was this skill in spotting potential world-class players while they were still developing and going unnoticed by the big teams of the Fleftic Premier League made him a vital asset for some of league’s lower teams such as Kimmirut Panhandle, Athletic Dorfdifving, and Antslinngs Islands FC. Wurzmann even had a year-long association with Arsenal de Releinthi and Godric Wexler as part of the team’s scouting staff, and Wexler (whose eye for young talent was second to none in Abanhfleft) had heaped praises upon Wurzmann, declaring him to be “the best scout that I have ever seen.” Very high praise from the man with the calculating eye for young players, and Wurzmann had let it all get to his head.

About a year or so ago, Heinrich Wurzmann came upon a new and groundbreaking idea. The internet was always alive with claims from fans of all clubs why the national team should call up this player or that player so why not create a team out of all these players which the fans claimed would make great additions to the national team? After a few more months, Wurzmann refined this idea further by hiring a team of sports data analysts to help him determine which of the fan favorites would actually work well playing for the national team, and after adding his own eye for hidden and latent talent to the selection process, Heinrich Wurzmann unveiled the Alternative Football Program. Its aim was simple: assemble a team made up of players who have never been called up for the official national team, play against the rest of the multiverse and hopefully show the folks over at the Samahang Futbol ng Abanhfleft that the players that he had assembled were at least deserving of a consideration of a call-up to the official national squad.

There was just one problem with the whole Alternative Football Program, though: who was going to play against the alternative national team of Abanhfleft? International friendlies were a thing, of course, but would another football association recognize the alternative team’s status as an unofficial national team and still play against them? Wurzmann knew that the multiverse was much more lax with its laws than Antarctica, but who would want to play against a team which has never set foot on a pitch together?

Wurzmann didn’t have to look very far for the answer, though. Representatives of Bonesea’s football association arrived in Abanhfleft with a message: Bonesea was attempting to organize a cup competition for nations outside of the so-called “Big Three” regions (Atlantian Oceania, Esportiva, and Rushmore) in the hopes of easing nations into the sport of football before the next oh-so-hectic World Cup qualifying cycle rolls around. For their part, the SFA thought the competition, tentatively titled “The Independents Cup,” to be a splendid idea, but their only problem with it was that the competition would wreak havoc on the national team’s schedule, both internationally and for the individual players’ club commitments.

It was here that Wurzmann spotted his opportunity. He introduced himself to the SFA and said, “What if, instead of having the actual national team play in the Independents Cup and therefore screw up all of the scheduled practices and friendlies that they were supposed to play, another team composed of players eligible for Abanhfleft but not yet called up for the national team stepped in to play in the cup? Wouldn’t that be just fantastic?”

The SFA looked over Wurzmann’s proposal and thought about it. A week later, they came back with their response: “It would be the federation’s honor if the Alternative Football Program team would like to represent Abanhfleft in the Independents’ Cup.” So now Heinrich Wurzmann had a competition in which he could make his players play and shine. His next problem was now to find the players themselves.

There were a few obvious choices, of course. Roscoe Stubbs was one of them. Roscoe, or “Rocko” as he liked to be called, was the quintessential Fleftic defender of the early millennium: quick on the ball, impressive in the air, a little heavy on the tackle. Rocko Stubbs had actually been considered for a call-up to the national squad ever since he was 20 years old but these never really came to fruition. And when it looked like there was finally room in the squad for Rocko, he was implicated in an unsavory scandal in which he was accused of having an affair with his brother Willard’s fiancée. Rocko denied any part in the affair and aside from a few fuzzy images taken from a suboptimal camera, there was little evidence to back up the claims. It was eventually discovered that the accusation was just part of a scam plot directed at footballers by a scamming syndicate in the hopes of extorting money, but Rocko’s reputation had already been tarnished. Rocko was quietly dropped from the list of potential call-ups of the federation and even he had to forget about his dreams of representing the blue, orange, and green even as he became a fan favorite at Sporting Ceneisis and eventually became the club captain after Maksim Varamoninov transferred to Fluvique’s Mevosa. Just for that, Rocko Stubbs was an immediate shoo-in into the Alternative Football Program.

Another player who was worthy of immediate inclusion was Toumain Vincelot of Sarvusdalamoive. Technically speaking, Vincelot was not a Fleftic-born citizen; he was actually from the country of Patierre, currently occupied by the Empire of Anglatia as a colony of theirs. Vincelot’s family had fled Patierre during the Anglatian invasion and washed up on Abanhfleft’s shores. The Vincelot family were refugees and after the mandatory two-year residency required of refugees, they applied for Fleftic citizenship and got it. Toumain himself had proved to be a quietly efficient defensive midfielder, rising up through the ranks of Sarvusdalamoive’s reserve squads and playing on loan for a few Oontaznik and Pridnestrovian sides before he finally began starting for the Pinks this season. He was eligible for a call-up due to his legally acquired citizenship, but that wasn’t the reason why the SFA was reluctant to call him up. No, the reason was that Toumain Vincelot was quite vocal of his displeasure of the Anglatian occupation of Patierre and made no efforts to hide his feelings about this particular subject. He was also a member of the Communist Party of the Democratic Republic of Abanhfleft and while ideologies were not really valid reasons to deny any one person a call-up for the national team, the SFA was reluctant to call up Vincelot because they thought that membership in the Communist Party could spike up when Vincelot becomes a popular face of the national team. Wurzmann, for his part, didn’t really like communism that much as well; his family fled Pridnestrovia for Abanhfleft because Stepan Stepanenko was believed to be planning to return Pridnestrovia to communism if ever he took power, which he did, and he did lead the country back to communism (although he is lightening up in his later years). Nevertheless, for Heinrich Wurzmann, Toumain Vincelot was another shoo-in into the Alternative Football Program.

A third potential member of the alternative team was the half-Korean Ji Moon. Unlike the other players being mooted for the Alternative Football Program, Ji Moon had already represented the Democratic Republic in international competitions; he had suited up for the national beach soccer team which competed and made their debut in the Free Republics a few years back. But unlike some of the national futsal team players being mooted by the SFA, the national beach soccer team came back from the Free Republics empty-handed, which was probably why they weren’t even considered by the federation. And when Ji wasn’t busy kicking around a football in the sand, he was busy playing as a winger for Kimmirut Panhandle, a team who was been notable for producing a few international-tier talents, Valery Zolnerov being the most prominent among them. Ji Moon was as good on the field as he was in the beach so his place in the Alternative Football Program was also secured.

After that, Wurzmann had to use his own judgment to select the rest of the team. Out of the dozens of players he had shortlisted, a few of them managed to catch his eye, chief among them Vitaly Zima and Daisuke Ogigayatsu. Wurzmann paid particular attention to them not only because he spotted hidden talent in them but also because they were related to some famous (or in Vitaly’s case not really famous so much as infamous) footballers. Daisuke Ogigayatsu was obviously the brother of Ludogorets Markovsky Ladies’ Flardanian striker Eriko Ogigayatsu. As to why he was considered eligible for a call-up from Abanhfleft, Daisuke had actually been born in Abanhfleft which immediately afforded him Fleftic citizenship due to an old law which decreed that any person born on Fleftic soil was immediately and automatically a Fleftic citizen. Of course, if the person was born to non-Fleftic parents, it was their choice if they wanted to keep their Fleftic citizenship or acquire their parents’ citizenship instead, but in Daisuke’s case, he was both a Fleftic and Flardanian citizen and that made him eligible for a call-up from both countries, but it looked as if Abanhfleft were going to get Daisuke’s services first.

Vitaly Zima was the brother (twin brother, actually) of former Imperial Markovsky and current Revolutionary Nordskania midfielder Arkadi Zima. Everyone knows the story of Arkadi Zima: he went to Nordskania to fight for the anarchist rebellion against the ruling Communist dictatorship of Vasily Zharkov despite all the restrictions put in place by the Fleftic government against anyone looking to fight for any country other than the Democratic Republic. The story then goes that when Arkadi went back to Abanhfleft, his brother Vitaly helped tip off the Ministry of State Security, who immediately picked up Arkadi and held him for an indefinite period of time “reasons relating to endangering the sovereignty of the Democratic Republic.” Arkadi Zima, who was actually being considered for a call-up by the SFA despite playing for the fourth tier side Imperial Markovsky, then managed to make his way out of the MSS through back-door deals between the SFA and the MSS. But it was all to no avail: Arkadi Zima accepted the call-up from Revolutionary Nordskania and was now playing for FK National in that country. Meanwhile, Vitaly Zima, Arkadi’s twin, remained behind in Markovsky and was now biding the time that he would become a starter for the Imperials.

Needless to say, Heinrich Wurzmann spotted enough talent in both Daisuke Ogigayatsu and Vitaly Zima that they received invites to the Alternative Football Program.

After that, Heinrich Wurzmann considered selecting players who could have eligible for football associations other than Abanhfleft but had not yet received call-ups or even interest in being called up. And when it came to that, he was spoilt for choice. Most prominent among these players who could have represented another country other than Abanhfleft but was plying their trade in the Democratic Republic was Chestnut Durant of Marinos Thimpodopoulos. Chestnut Durant had arrived in Abanhfleft by way of the Fhulghamous Peninsula Colony alongside his many brothers. He and his brothers were originally from the State of Panem (winners of the 59th Baptism of Fire in which the Fhulghamous Peninsula’s national team also competed) but had fled to the Fhulghamous when Panem was engulfed by what the Bonesfolk of Bonesea only referred to as “Catastrophic Termination Events” or “CTEs” for short. Chestnut’s brother Walnut Durant had already represented Panem in the Baptism of Fire and the qualifiers for the 72nd World Cup and, when approached by the SFA for the possibility of representing Abanhfleft, had flat out refused, stating that Panem was his one and only country. Chestnut Durant, however, who had not been part of the Panem squad which won the Baptism of Fire or participated in the qualifiers, jumped at the chance when he was offered it. Chestnut’s other brother Almond also joined the Alternative Football Program alongside Chestnut.

That had all been many months ago. The alternative Abanhfleft national football team had competed in Bonesea against the other nations of the multiverse not affiliated with the Big Three regions and had come out, well, not exactly on top, but pretty close to it. The alternative team had gone through seven games, three extra time periods and one penalty shootout on their way to winning the bronze medal against Barunia, an opponent which many players remembered as having caused one of the biggest heartbreaks in Fleftic history (although one could argue that it was Cecilia Johnson who was the real heartbreaker as it was her shot which bounced off of the crossbar and prevented Abanhfleft from forcing extra time against Barunina in a long-ago Cup of Harmony round of 16 matchup). To tell the truth, the team had gone beyond all of Heinrich Wurzmann’s expectations. He had expected perhaps an appearance in the round of 16 or the quarterfinals at best. He hadn’t expected to push almost all the way to the title (but the victory in the third place match was a very nice consolation price). And that wasn’t the only reason why Heinrich Wurzmann was pleased. The SFA had come to him and told him that at least three players from the alternative team were now being actually considered for a call-up to the actual national team. And that was the whole point of this exercise, Wurzmann admitted. Sure enough, in the qualifiers for the 77th World Cup, Daisuke Ogigayatsu, Toumain Vincelot, and Vitaly Zima were called up for the national and were even included in the final 23-man roster for the World Cup proper in San Jose Guayabal and the Royal Kingdom of Quebec. That was all Heinrich Wurzmann wanted out of his Alternative Football Program and more.

And now there was another Independents in which the Alternative Football Program could strut its stuff and give the SFA another selection nightmare as more great players were sure to make themselves known in the coming tournament, now to be held in Schottia and Mercedini. Because Daisuke, Toumain, and Vitaly were now part of the official national team (Wurzmann always referred to his players by their first names) they were now technically ineligible for selection to the Alternative Football Program, Wurzmann had had to pick new players to fill in for them. In the end, he ended up drawing from his pool of reserves to fill in the gaps. Most prominent among the new arrivals were Kahaan Kazzblassart and Mauricio Emazagucci of Abanhfleft’s national futsal team. Like Ji Moon before them, they had already represented Abanhfleft in international competition, specifically the 1st Futsal World Cup held in Allied Omaha, and also like Ji Moon they weren’t able to lead the team to any silverware, although that was more to the strange rules surrounding this first ever edition of the Futsal World Cup, and the rest of the multiverse found enough irregularities in the competition format that a second Futsal World Cup, while mooted, was eventually not held due to the aforementioned competition irregularities. That left Mauricio and Kahaan, along with their national futsal team teammates, with a job but nothing to do. When Heinrich Wurzmann came along and offered them another chance at representing the blue, orange, and green at the international stage, they jumped immediately. At least seven of the players on the national futsal team which participated in the 1st Futsal World Cup had now joined the Alternative Football Program and more were sure to be on the way.

All in all, Heinrich Wurzmann was ready to face the 2nd Independents Cup. He had his team and his competitors had theirs. They’d won bronze in the first edition. Now Wurzmann knows that they were ready to win even more than just bronze. Yes, he felt confident that the Alternative National Team of Abanhfleft could go all the way to win the Independents Cup itself. Lofty dreams, sure, but the thing with dreams was that they always came true. Sure, it might take dreams a long time before they came true, but Heinrich Wurzmann was confident that he can win the Independents Cup while he was still around to manage the Alternative Football Program.

Onwards and forwards!

CRESCENT NEWS NETWORK
SPORTS CHANNEL - OFFICIAL WEBSITE
ABANHFLEFT • PRIDNESTROVIA • OONTAZ DERT LI NG • COPPER CUPRUM • TRENDSTART • FHULGHAMOUS PENINSULA

INDEPENDENTS CUP 2: ALTERNATIVE ABANHFLEFT VS KITSUNIA-DEESSE
By Malik Qazizadah

Alternative Abanhfleft's Kahaan Kazzblassart celebrates his goal against Kitsunia-Deesse. (Courtesy of Crescent News Network Sports Channel/Andros Tasasa)

ORGA, MERCEDINI - The Alternative Abanhfleft national football team of Heinrich Wurzmann opened their Independents Cup II campaign with a draw against plucky Kitsunia-Deesse.

Kahaan Kazzblassart, formerly of the Fleftic national futsal team, scored Alternative Abanhfleft's first goal in the 2nd Independents Cup when he got on the end of Ji Moon's through-ball and slotted past the Kitsunian keeper deftly, but Fantina Zirome immediately got Les Guerriers back on level terms when she got her head on the end of a cross from Salvatorina Redivillante.

Ji Moon should have gotten Alternative Abanhfleft the lead once again when his long-range strike curled right into the top left corner, but Danette Pascal was able to react very quickly and push the ball away from the danger zone at the cost of a corner, but Alternative Abanhfleft could make nothing out of the set piece.

Chances were few and far between in the second half, with the most notable ones being Hywing Torgilssen's cheeky attempt at chipping the Kitsunian keeper and Doge Braunschwenker smacking the crossbar with his header in the 90th minute.

Abanhfleft alternative national team manager Heinrich Wurzmann: "This isn't exactly the running start that we were hoping to get in this competition. Sure, it may not be the World Cup but it's still an internationally accredited tournament and that means winning this thing gets us a recognized trophy. We are doing this for the glory of the Democratic Republic of Abanhfleft, remember. We really could have won this game but instead we drew it. We will have to recover in the next game."

Abanhfleft will play Zaspeuwana at the ezMart Arena in Zholvi, Mercedini for the second matchday of the 2nd Independents Cup.

        ABANHFLEFT 1 - 1 KITSUNIA-DEESSE
KAZZBLASSART (29')       ZIROME (39')

KITSUNIA-DEESSE
GK: 1 Pascal
RB: 2 A. Durant
RCB: 3 Shin-Nagoresc
LCB: 4 Cheveauxcourts (Aranaway - 84')
LB: 5 Han-Di
DM: 6 Silandé
CM: 7 Braunschwenker (LeMiser - 69')
AM: 8 Traffikant
CF: 9 Redivillante (Repairdinnerelder - 77')
ST: 10 Móntpellier
CF: 11 Zirome

ABANHFLEFT
GK: 78 C. Durant
RB: 29 Emazagucci
RCB: 44 Yusuff (Luoming █ - 75')
LCB: 45 Jenks
LB: 4 Stubbs
RM: 60 Abellesi (Rivera - 80')
LM: 16 Santamaria
RW: 27 Pulzazin
CAM: 10 Abimelech
LW: 18 Moon
ST: 9 Kazzblassart (Torgilssen - 85')

MATCH STATISTICS
Possession
Alternative Abanhfleft: 50%
Kitsunia-Deesse: 50%
Shots
Alternative Abanhfleft: 12 (6 on target)
Kitsunia-Deesse: 11 (4 on target)
Corners
Alternative Abanhfleft: 6
Kitsunia-Deesse: 6
Fouls
Alternative Abanhfleft: 19
Kitsunia-Deesse: 14

by **Tinhampton** » Fri Mar 31, 2017 8:12 am

A hotel in Carvi, Mercedini - 22:03 Tinhampton Time - 30th March 2017:
It was free time in Carvi, seemingly permanent home turf of Space, right before the team were to doze off to sleep. With one hour of free time, Tinhampton's hero against Devonta was bored. The books were too political, the television too boring. There were only three videos: Wet and Wild in West Starblaydia? Not exactly the most current of sit-com series. Bigtopians Say The Darnest Things? Judging from the cover, he was sure that it was actually Eastfielders Say The Darnest Things - all of the unfunny racism (to many), with none of the originality. Welcome to the UN - Series 16? Firstly, that was the UN before the one that was forcefully shuttered; and secondly, "Repeal "Regulating the Importation of Munitions"" by Mousebumples was never the most entertaining of prepositions. But then he remembered - he had never returned The Olympic Massacre: 25 Years On to Tinhampton Airways...

Narrator: The eighteenth of August, 1991, was supposed to be the eighth day of competition at the Fifteenth Multiversal Olympiad in Glen-Rhodes. Instead, it turned out to be a day of mourning, not just in Grand Port, but in the entire sporting world.
At eleven o'clock at the Olympic Village, shortly after the end of the 1,500 metres race (where Reece Ford finished sixth), a group of terrorists from Absentius stormed the Tinhamptonian block, executing all in sight. Only two survived - Mr Ford, and renowned tennis player Lydia Anderson, who is now Mayor of Tinhampton. As we remember the 118 Tinhamptonians brutally executed by Absentiusian terrorists, we remember the vast diversity of incidents that culminated in what was then the most fatal terrorist attack ever seen in the South Pacific.

TITLE SLIDE: "THE OLYMPIC MASSACRE: 25 Years On"

Narrator: Before we start this documentary proper, it is important to recall the background to this story. The Commonwealth of Glen-Rhodes was always famous for its loose immigration laws... laws promoted by the Rhodesian Bid Committee, which helped it win out over bids submitted by Riemstagrad, Omigodtheykilledkenny, and Drasnia. In the final round on Halloween 1985, Grand Port had won out against Paradise City by 15,000 votes. As a result, the Kennyites boycotted the Olympics immediately, followed by a boycott across the Antarctic Oasis.
Further controversy was to be sparked up in December 1990, when Worldview 1990 results were leaked. The outcome of the surveys? That Glen-Rhodes had a negative tally in the World Census' Total War Preparedness Rating, which measures national defense forces. As a result, the Rhodesians called in a trans-Pacific defence force, which has only recently been delclassified by the Government. Whilst this was occuring, the nation's famously strong intelligence agency managed to trace back the leakers of the documents to hackers in Absentius - a nation that would be key later on.
Miklos Kanellis, President of Glen-Rhodes: No, I could not believe what I saw when I watch the files. To complain about our nation, that is one thing, but to threaten "blood across your blue-white flag" when the Olympics were being held? This, for me, was only to strengthen the need of a strong Feederite defence force.
Narrator: The Rhodesian delegation to the then-United Nations in its second incarnation were outspoken International Federalists, regularly calling for the repeal of UN Resolution 9, Convention on Defense, which passed in dramatic fashion in 1957 and which outlawed the creation of a UN-wide army, making the job harder. Despite this, the Pacifican Defence Accords were passed - against their wishes, but grudgingly accepted - in April 1991, just when the job was to be handed solely to the nation.
Reece Ford: I personally felt happy when I learned that there was to be extra security. Yes, there might have been a couple of traitors, but it was all for the best. Confidence in our team peaked when we learned about these deals, but we didn't know what was coming.
Lydia Anderson: If you had to compile a list of the world's 100 best tennis players as of the start of the 90s, I would not have been there. Sure, I may have been better in the previous decade, but I was not exactly the best. I was planning on retiring a few years later, perhaps delve into my passion of conservative politics, but even that was a bit doubtful.
Narrator: Despite a few more hurdles to jump, the Rhodesians were determined to put on a good show - as President Miklos Kanellis proclaimed, "the greatest show in the South Pacific". The nation that was otherwise only famous for its authoring of 17 UN resolutions in 1977, as well as one of the world's great Book Publishing industries, was set to prepare for the event of a lifetime.
President Kanellis: We were a fairly modest but influential nation, never the most famous other than for a few strange events, but it was our hope, our dream even, that we would succeed in doing this.

Narrator: Absentius was a notoriously devout Muslim nation, one of the Rejected Realms' more recognised ones. It was also a hot-bed of terrorism, with small movements cropping up across the nation. Despite this, there was no proscribed grouping more dangerous than the Soldiers of Allah - a movement with a deep hatred for almost every nation in the world, even their own, despite allegations that they were a state-funded terrorist group.
Fred Jackson AM (UCP), Minister for Foreign Affairs (1989-1995): You could have watched a single video of theirs, and it would be the single most horrendous thing you could watch in our life. It was so violent, so, so violent, that it would be banned by the film classification authorities based on the gore alone. That some people even managed to bear it and become a Soldier of Allah is unthinkable!
Narrator: 1991 was the most productive year in the short history of the Soldiers, with gains financial, physical and audio-visual. Although a Unibotian bank robbery on the 14th of May led to the loss of 37 million Eduards and over 60 lives, they were not prepared to stop yet, targeting the next most notable nation with an International Federalist delegation - the nation that happened to host the Olympics.
Fred Jackson: OK, so these so-called Soldiers were mainly interested in attacks on nations which supported greater powers to the United Nations. It was doubtful that we could be targeted, but we were on the lookout. There was always a fierce rivalry between your NatSovs and your IntFeds, but these Soldiers attacked in a unique style, which nobody could stop. Not even asset freezes could prevent the bombing of one of our polling stations in the March elections!
Narrator: With the Olympics approaching, the Soldiers substantially toned down their attacks - the deadliest shooting in the world in July 1991 involved 17 Sedgistanis being shot dead by a lone wolf, who was later apprehended in custody in neighbouring Crazy girl. Despite this, the Rhodesians were also lacking in police, although there were hopes that the PDA would keep the nation safe.
President Kanellis: I could swear that we would be safe, but the terrorists, they had different ideas. They wanted purity at first, then annihilation of our kind, supporters of the United Nations. This was especially concerning to those that supported greater powers, and even to the moderate sovereigntists.
Narrator: AFTER THE BREAK: Now you know the backstory, be prepared to be taken on a deep and dark ride - how exactly did the Soldiers of Allah managed to kill so many?

AD BREAK: Actual ads in the TV version, but just promotions for up-coming shows on the DVD version.

Narrator: On the night of the twelfth of August, 1991, the Olympics Opening Ceremony occurred - a spectacle of Rhodesian culture, not to mention being somewhat politically charged. It attracted criticism from National Sovereignists, but the Soldiers kept away - their leader bluntly stating that "we prefer to keep secret."
Reece Ford: Everybody in the team camp was happy that night. We had to go to sleep at 3am or something like that, but none of us were prepared for what was coming. Clearly we must have had a false sense of security then. I think we only ever saw a few security guards in our first week. This led me thinking: Why should I be living in an Olympic Village where security guards didn't even bother to go to Floor 12?
Lydia Anderson: Given the strong culture, I suspect that the World Census was right: our biggest nemesis at the time was the weather. It was generally raining for most of the time, and it's amazing we got to play anything at all. For a short while, I was the main focus, if the laughing stock of the media the world over - I doubted that I would ever live down my slip-up when I only needed a few successful serves to win. Mind you, I did succeed, but they never forgave me. I thought that it would be washed away (so to speak) by politics, if I was to be that lucky.
Narrator: As it turned out, Tinhampton were expectedly poor, winning only three bronze medals and one silver. However, hopes remained high on the morning of that fateful Sunday.
Reece Ford: We had a few players that refused to partake on the Sunday, or only played for fear of being chucked out. However, it was impossible to deny that we had a fair few important events occuring that day. The Soldiers of Allah? We didn't even care about them. The Tinhamptonians learned more about how "crescunt" wasn't a Latin swear word than we did about terrorism and how to stop it.
Lydia Anderson: We both had late-night matchups - my match with Angela Barber of Improving Wordiness at about 9 o'clock, Reece's 1,500 metre race at 10 o'clock. The Rhodesians run four hours behind us, which meant that only the hardiest of Tinhamptonians were expected to watch at home.

Narrator: Both matches were supposed to end at 10:10pm, just before the Soldiers intended to breach security and kill the rest of the Tinhamptonians - both players and coaches, indiscriminately. However, by quirks of fate, both matches were delayed due to rain - it took a while to get the roof up at the Grand Port Arena, whilst the rain kept on pouring for an hour at the Olympic Stadium.
Lydia Anderson: I had to fight my way through the match with Angela, only winning after about 100 minutes and a narrow sudden-death round or whatever you call it - I've been less of a tennis fan these days. It was narrow and I won out, but I had to walk back to the Village. I was in the middle seat of the car that broke down and was meant to take me back. At the time, I was seriously considering cursing my luck then. It took me about half an hour to get there, but I was shocked at what I saw.
Reece Ford: The rain just kept on pouring and pouring and pouring, and it was doing that for the past couple of hours. The race didn't even start until about five minutes to eleven. I was pumped up and ready to go once the rain had been cleared up. I was only just aware of what had happened when I returned.
Narrator: So, what exactly had happened? As it contrived, the main security guard (who originated from Flemingovia) told all in his 1994 account of the event, A Lucky but Unfortunate Escape. He stated that he was having a late-night sandwich when he heard a small voice speak in a language he did not understand. Owen Benson stated that "it was only my Flemingovial Hymn Book that stood between the mysterious man in black and my death." Various other statements - including from Ford and Anderson - were also published. It was a bestseller in the nation for almost a year.
However, in the immediate aftermath of the event, only limited CCTV footage was available, which showed the unidentified Soldier of Allah kick down various doors and kill the inhabitants, who were still wide awake. It took him about half an hour - between 10:40 and 11:15 at night - to conduct this. In addition to killing all 118 Tinhamptonians in the Village, he also executed each of the eight people in the canteen queue at Floor 10. It took the Grand Port Police Department years to find out what happened; the results were published within a few days of the release of A Lucky but Unfortunate Escape.
Reece Ford: It was about seventeen minutes past eleven then, when I saw the terrorist shoot wildly at me. He avoided hitting me, and he was soon executed after being extradited back to Absentius, but the death and destruction he reaped upon our squad was simply unbelievable. They shut down Floor 12, and we had to live in a spare room on the floor above. The occupants were not happy about this, and left the Olympics.
Lydia Anderson: I had only just arrived when I noticed a man wearing all black firing at me. He didn't hit me, although I felt it whooshing past, and he later hid behind a storage container before noticing Reece's arrival - I think, but I'm not sure - but he was taken away sooner or later. As for the chaplaincy meeting I was meant to have, I had to do it with the Electrumites. There were a handful of them, but I grew up to love them. We're supposed to be able to do our own trade deals soon, and if I'm still in office, Electrum is on the top of my list. For the record, I was beaten in the quarter-finals.

Narrator: It was a tragedy. 126 people killed, overtaking the Fudgetopian Airlines flight 584 downing, which killed 124 South Pacificans in 1976. The greatest terrorist attack in the South Pacific's history, and one that led to a day of mourning in Glen-Rhodes. All events were pushed back a day, and the Tinhamptonians that were meant to be in competition were removed after their death (following Olympic protocol), but the sports world was saddened. How could such an insignificant sports team be so vulnerable to attack?
Well, the Soldiers of Allah operated under a regime of "purity and extermination" - first executing the NatSovs in IntFed lands (and vice versa), before removing native IntFeds from their homelands and taking them to Absentius, where death awaited them. The grief poured out was stunning, and could fill up a documentary or three in itself. However, here are some highlights:
Angela Barber, Anderson's opponent on the Sunday: Today, a terror attack shook not just Tinhampton and Glen-Rhodes, but the world. I feel sorry for the small city, but I am personally appalled at how a controversial terrorist group could attack such a tiny delegation so quickly. This does not look like the attack of a lone wolf.
President Kanellis: Today is a sorry day for the entire world. 118 Tinhamptonians, and eight others, mercilessly killed at the hands of a terrorist group. We need a plan, and we need to strengthen it. From now on, there will be no more terrorists entering the nation - we will implement a sturdy scheme to keep the evildoers out.
Daniel Welsh, the only Olympian from Evil Wolf: Many people have a misconception, that the nations with high defense force statistics are among the worst possible people you can see; ruthlessly taking down innocent regions and flooding them with raider delegates. However, the attack on Tinhampton shows that the real bad guys are the people that have intentions to kill athletes who come in the name of peace for no reason whatsoever. We stand with you, Tinhampton.
Sammy Faisano, President of Omigodtheykilledkenny: You want to know how much of a literal bullet we dodged here? Our concerns about safety and security in the South Pacific have proven us undoubtedly correct! Of course, this is the obligatory message of solidarity with these Tinhampton people I've never even heard of until now. And now onto the more important issues of the day, like how we dodged another bullet by not claiming responsibility for this s--t...
Narrator: The Soldiers of Allah continued on their terrorist trails, reportedly killing thousands in the early 1990s. However, a crackdown soon followed, quickly spreading across the world. By the time the Soldiers disbanded in 1998, the damage was done, but preventative measures active across the world helped to prevent substantial spread of terrorist ideologies in states with a combined population of hundreds of trillions.
On the 15th anniversary of the attack, Anderson - now Deputy Mayor of Tinhampton - proclaimed a simple message, one that holds true even today: "Our men and women have been heartlessly massacred, but we have remained resilient, then and now. As we come together on the anniversary of this sad day, there are two words we must remember as we hold our values sacred: Never again."

It was then that Ford went to have a snack, before nodding off to bed a while later. Sure, the world might well be irradiated 24 hours later, but - to be frank - he never cared about the impendent danger.

NOTE: Based on a post in the original "Your Nation's...?" Forum 7 thread, when Absentius stated that assassins from their nation once killed our Olympic delegation. The link is lost (on the grounds that it was a spam game, and therefore unarchiveable), but the RP lives on.

by **Bonesea** » Fri Mar 31, 2017 11:09 am

by **Schottia** » Fri Mar 31, 2017 11:19 am

Matchday Two: Mercedini Side

Group A
Mercedini 2–0 Mampris
Averyickan City 2–2 Kirisaki

.                       Pld    W   D   L    GF   GA   GD   Pts 
1 Mercedini               2    2   0   0     5    1   +4     6 Q
2 Mampris                 2    1   0   1     2    2    0     3
3 Averyickan City         2    0   1   1     3    5   −2     1
  Kirisaki                2    0   1   1     2    4   −2     1

Group B
Free Republics 4–4 The Iron Syndicate
Union of Socialist Alpine Republics 1–3 Bonesea

.                                      Pld    W   D   L    GF   GA   GD   Pts 
1 Bonesea                                2    2   0   0     5    1   +4     6 Q
2 Free Republics                         2    1   1   0     6    5   +1     4
3 The Iron Syndicate                     2    0   1   1     4    6   −2     1
4 Union of Socialist Alpine Republics    2    0   0   2     2    5   −3     0

Group C
Zitru 2–4 Kitsunia-Deesse
Zaspeuwana 0–2 Abanhfleft

.                       Pld    W   D   L    GF   GA   GD   Pts 
1 Abanhfleft              2    1   1   0     3    1   +2     4
  Kitsunia-Deesse         2    1   1   0     5    3   +2     4
3 Zitru                   2    1   0   1     4    4    0     3
4 Zaspeuwana              2    0   0   2     0    4   −4     0

Group D
Kel Assuk 3–0 United States of Devonta
Space 0–3 Tinhampton

.                           Pld    W   D   L    GF   GA   GD   Pts 
1 Kel Assuk                   2    2   0   0     6    1   +5     6 Q
2 Tinhampton                  2    2   0   0     4    0   +4     6 Q 
3 United States of Devonta    2    0   0   2     0    4   −4     0
4 Space                       2    0   0   2     1    6   −5     0

Q = Qualified for round of sixteen.

by **Free Republics** » Fri Mar 31, 2017 11:35 am

Free Republics National Soccer Team

Formation: Pyramid
Style Modifier: +5
Colors: Blue and White
Manager: Lucas Gavius
Assistant Manager: Ethan Lees

Roster (age in parentheses)

Starting Lineup

Formation

GK: #1 Keir Wood (29)
CB: #2 Baldovino Lucchesi (34)
CB: #3 Tim Goldschmidt (25)
RH: #4 Joshua Fisher (34)
CH: #5 Guy Gervais (33)
LH: #6 Moore Paulet (31)
RW: #7 Vadim Kozlov (33)
IF: #8 Joacim Dahlberg (33)
ST: #9 Andrzej Kalinowski (29)
IF: #10 Lucas Pedersen (29)
LW: #11 Gualtiero Trevisano (27)

Bench

GK: #12 Lucas Saenger (28)
GK: #13 Jesse Conrick (23)
DEF: #14 Archer Chaffey (27)
DEF: #15 Pawan Kempen (23)
DEF: #16 Christoffer Hansen (26)
HALF: #17 Csorba Tamas (32)
HALF: #18 Yegor Vasilyev (22)
HALF: #19 Dennis Marshall (29)
FOR: #20 Liam Docherty (22)
FOR: #21 Nejax Ek (25)
FOR: #22 Gildo Serna (31)
FOR: #23 Quincy Lesperance (25)

Kits (made by Kirola Sports)

RP Permissions

I give my opponent permission to:
Choose my goalscorers: Y
Godmod scoring events: Y
Give my players yellow cards: Y
Give my players red cards: Y
Give injuries to my players: Y
Godmod injuries to my players: Y
Godmod other events: Y

by **Scottopian Isles** » Fri Mar 31, 2017 11:59 am

Scottopian Isles Football Association
@SIFAOfficial
Tune into @TeleScot at noon to see the Scottopian Isles National Football Team challange Flardania in Group H of the @IndependentAssociationsChampionship! #SIFA #IAC #LiveFootball #WeWantTheCup

RETWEETSLIKES
4.2M17.9M

11:30 a.m. - 31 March 2017

by **Hicanans in Exile** » Fri Mar 31, 2017 12:11 pm

Kebec 0 - 2 PHOENIXES

Starting Lineup: Costa; Hechavarria (Nuñez 71), Suarez, De Avila, Teixeira; Reyes (Rojo 68), Velasquez, Correia; Sanchez, Da Silva, Escobar (Santana 59)
Goals: Da Silva 41, Correia 65

An excellent start to the IAC - Emma Da Silva managed to volley a cross past the goalkeeper to cap off a dominant first half, and although Kebec was resurgent in the second, the defense held them off long enough for Santiago Correia to score a magnificent free-kick. The midfield was the key to this victory - Reyes was a major attacking threat, Correia scored the first goal, and Clayton Velasquez was utterly dominant, especially when coupled with Rojo towards the end of the game.

Lineup to face Kaboomlandia: Costa; Hechavarria, Suarez, De Avila, Teixeira; Ledesma, Velasquez, Correia; Sanchez, Da Silva, Reyes

More of the same against Kaboomlandia as the Phoenixes look to seal their berth to the Ro16. Only one change has been made - Guadalupe Reyes is moved to right-wing for the underwhelming Escobar, while Morgan Ledesma replaces her in the midfield.

by **Mercedini** » Fri Mar 31, 2017 12:33 pm

CUTOFF
Schottian Half: MD2

Today's Poetry In News

Roses are red,
Violets are fun...

Group E
Hicaña 1–0 Kaboomlandia
@ Ashley Road, New Belfast
Kebec 0–0 Schottia
@ Harbour Hill Stadium, Handon

# Group E                      Pld   W  D  L   GF  GA  GD  Pts 
1 Hicaña                         2   2  0  0    3   0  +3    6  Q
2 Schottia                       2   1  1  0    3   0  +3    4
3 Kebec                          2   0  1  1    0   2  −2    1
4 Kaboomlandia                   2   0  0  2    0   4  −4    0  E

Group F
New Lusitania & the Algarves 0–2 Spaam
@ Lochend Stadium, Lochend
Gim 1–4 Drawkland
@ Dyerton, Handon

# Group F                      Pld   W  D  L   GF  GA  GD  Pts 
1 Drawkland                      2   1  1  0    5   2  +3    4
2 Spaam                          2   1  1  0    3   1  +2    4
3 New Lusitania & the Algarves   2   1  0  1    1   2  −1    3
4 Gim                            2   0  0  2    1   5  −4    0  E

Group G
Kalumba 1–0 Velgouwen
@ Gannon Park, Soessch
Kecrazia 2–0 Aupti
@ Danu Park, La Gorla

# Group G                      Pld   W  D  L   GF  GA  GD  Pts 
1 Kalumba                        2   2  0  0    4   0  +4    6
2 Velgouwen                      2   1  0  1    1   1   0    3
3 Kecrazia                       2   1  0  1    2   3  −1    3
4 Aupti                          2   0  0  2    0   3  −3    0

Group H
New Scaiva and Horshenwurst 1–3 Garifunya
@ Gauld Park, South Berwick
Flardania 4–2 Scottopian Isles
@ The Rock Ground, South Berwick

# Group H                      Pld   W  D  L   GF  GA  GD  Pts 
1 Garifunya                      2   2  0  0    6   2  +4    6  Q
2 Flardania                      2   2  0  0    6   3  +3    6  Q
3 New Scaiva and Horshenwurst    2   0  0  2    2   5  −3    0  E
4 Scottopian Isles               2   0  0  2    3   7  −4    0  E

by **Kitsunia-Deesse** » Fri Mar 31, 2017 2:20 pm

The kids gelled well.
Móntpellier left the field with three goals over Zitru, names like Zirome and Traffikant did seem to tune well with the lesser-known Kitsunians.
La Déesse walked across her room, preparing for some rest before the final match on the group.
A loud noise stopped her, however.
She shook her head, pushing off her hair from over her face.
The new Sunrisian disguise machine had been working wonders and she liked the idea that she looked like a pretty cute girl instead of a fluffy fox-like humanoid.
Clare opened the room's door, finding a letter.

Nova Settlement, Sunrisian Territories
Hibiki Zaibatsu Complex
16:00 PM

The meetings had been somewhat rushed.
Ryo Hibiki stood in front of what seemed like a map of the NSS' Multiverse and its' regions. They were more or less a bunch of maps glued together and even the greatest minds on the Hibiki Zaibatsu admitted they couldn't quite get it down pat. Cartography had always been hard.
The room was hardly filled.
At a corner, one could notice the Fearsome Four, the nickname for the four heads of the Sunrisian Special Forces.
"So." London Audley said, clapping once as his skin turned from deep black to pale white. "We meet again after what happened back at Neorudo."
"Delightful city, that was." Kalypso said, finishing a glass of wine. "I didn't appreciate having to hold back the carnage but we did win in the end."
"If you went all out with the carnage, I'd kill you." Diang Jun quickly shot, his flowing white hair clashing against the Boss' katana. "And you really didn't have to bring a sword to this meeting, miss."
"Diang." The Boss smirked, her sunglasses covering her eyes. "When you have a katana, the question isn't where to not bring your sword, but rather where not to bring your sword."
"A sword has two edges." The Edenian replied back.
"And I'd do you if you weren't such a pain." She counter-replied. London kept clapping and switching colours while Kalypso had a good laugh.
"I'm not a pain!" Diang Ji replied back on a huff. For an Edenian, he was too much of a warrior but lacked the proper street wits.
"Is that a proposition, cowboy?" She laughed, lowering her sunglasses a little bit and winking. Jiang Di got furious.
"Relax you two." London said, clapping again.

Clare wandered in the room, looking around.
She uneasily took a seat near the Fearsome Four.
"Oh my. Who let their little kid enter the room?" The Boss asked, curious.
"Uh... I-I'm not a kid!" Clare rose her wrist, showing the cloaking device the Sunrisians gave her. "I'm La Déesse."
"Ah." Kalypso smiled, looking at the girl. "Clare, I take? I always thought it'd be a delightful trip to make at some point. Me and my boys."
"...Eh?"
"I'd suggest you not to." Jiang Di quickly alerted the Kitsune. "All he sees is destruction and all he wishes for is more destruction."
"Oh, Jiang Di, you paint me in so few colours." He laughed. "If I were such a monochromatic piece, I'd probably be against what the Hibiki Zaibatsu called us here for."
"What did they call us for?" The holy leader asked.
"Ah, girl." London sighed. "Don't you see those things Ryo is gluing? They're a Disaster Map."
"Yes. And we, as Sunrisians, have to do something about it." Kalypso said. "Although for some reason I don't expect this means going on war with everyone."
"...Well." Clare looked at him puzzled. "But I'm not a Sunrisian... I'm a Kitsune!"
"I'm aware, miss Clare." Ryo said, jumping over his desk and landing near her.
The girl, of course, was shocked by the surprise.
"I'm sorry." Ryo said, patting her on the head. "I've been studying other dimensions lately and... it turns out lands like Kitsunia-Déesse are tied to the Sunrise Islands somehow."
"...I see. They do tend to lump as all together, in hindsight."
"Yes." Hibiki sighed. "I'm sorry for that as well. In any case, what we want to do... well, it needs you all on board as well."

Clare looked at a big door by the side of the map.
"...What's that?"
"You'll find out soon, miss. Now please, enjoy the food my chefs made." He pointed to a table full of all sorts of sweets and fine dishes.
The Kitsune nodded, walking up to the table, followed by the Fearsome Four.

Turned out a Kitsunian leader was normally hungry.
"They're all some very hungry k-"
The five Kitsunes stared at Jiang Di as he stopped mid-sentence.
"Hungry leaders! Y-yeah! Leaders!"
The Boss laughed behind his back, opening a sake bottle with her sword. "Man, what a coward."
Jiang Di looked at the Boss with anger, trying to mutter something, only for the boss to shove half of the contents of a bottle of sake through his mouth.
The Kitsunes stared in shock and most of the folks that had arrived after Clare also seemed a bit surprised.
London ignored, drinking a glass of orange juice while Kalypso chuckled a bit.
"This should shake you up a bit." She shook him around, taking the bottle of sake back.
The Edenian captain was, indeed, shaken and slightly stirred.

Ryo took a sip of water, staring at the map on the wall.
His eyes lacked the usual determination, for some reason, but his focus on whatever it was supposed to mean was there.
"So." He turned around, finding Jean Mulhouse. "Old friend."
The USIFC president tried to sit down in a chair by his side, a funny sight given how the male Gardevoir looked.
"Mulhouse." He said, drinking again briefly afterwards.
"Hibiki." The Gardevoir remained with its' usual emotionless look. "Is it April Fools?"
"Why?"
"You lack fire." He said. "Normally, you'd have some sort of big plan."
The Hibiki Zaibatsu's leader simply sighed. "It's not the greatest of days."
"Something with the wife?" Jean pondered. "I'm sorry."
"No. They're all fine. I believe they'll be joining us soon... They just insisted on looking the best for this."
"...You're thinking of something. I can feel it."
"It's just..." He put aside his glass of water. "Ever felt... you know, disappointed?"
"World Cup 78 post-investigations. Most of our Campionato Esportiva runs."
"I never got you that title, eh?"
"Yes. Alas, you're not bad... There's some passion on a guy that brings the wave tactic back from the past."
Ryo laughed. "I'm just a fan of nostalgia. Times were better before, Jean, like it or not?"
"Our technology works fine, our contacts with magic have been so far well, people seem to like us in general and our culture... What's not to love?"
The leader got up from his chair. "Meet me at another room and I'll tell you it all."

Juca was sweating a lot.
A bit odd given the low temperature the room was in but this sort of thing happens when you're in front of just the three more impressive leaders the Sunrises ever had.
"...What?"
Queen Mizzellina looked at Juca with confusion. "Do I have something on my face?"
"U-Uh... N-Nothing..." He looked to the side only for one of the other two leaders laugh a bit.
Matthew Sioux, a former president of the Northern Sunrise Islands had been invited for reasons unknown to many, laughed a bit over the current king of Matthewsiania.
Eric Fahrenheit seemed to be more focused on his beer.
"I-It's just... I-I'm new to this..."
The surprise King of Matthewsiania was known for not being a fantastic leader, plus being the one that oversaw the Kingdom's integration at the Sunrise Islands was hard to forget.
"Heh." Matthew smiled. "I think you worry too much."
"We don't bite." Mizzellina replied, pointing her scepter up. "But if you have a problem-"
"Calm down, ma'am." Sioux lifted a hand. "I'm pretty sure he didn't mean to offend."
"Y-yeah..." Juca looked at her embarassed. "I-I.... I'm sorry."
"Jeez." She rolled her eyes. "Fine, but don't do it again."
The two went back to their dishes, while the Matthewsianian sneakily left the three.
"Nice fella, ain't he?" Eric noted after he departed.
The Queen rose an eyebrow.
Sioux merely nodded.

by **Elite Astyrian Football League** » Fri Mar 31, 2017 8:36 pm

Elite Astyrian Football League
@EAFL
BREAKING NEWS: Scottopian Manager Rafferty has resigned after teams elimination from IAC Group Stages. Assistant Garcia takes over as interm for final game.
#SIFA #EAFL

RETWEETSLIKES
17.6M327M

09:00 p.m. - 31 March 2017

by **Spaam** » Sat Apr 01, 2017 7:53 am

"Núñez! Well done on that goal!"

"Thanks, Sehelin, your penalty was beautiful too."

"Awww thanks! I'm so glad you were picked for our team; it's great that you found a home here."

"We are happy to be here too, and glad we can still play football international."

"With skills like that, they'd be fools not to have you on the team."

"Perhaps. Elzeros, he does not like us, does he?"

"I wouldn't pay much attention to him, he's probably just jealous he hasn't scored a goal yet."

"I don't know, Merlara. We've met many people like him in the past; it is why we had to leave. We who followed Margaret were looked down on, spat on. When San Jose changed, it just became too much, and so we fled. The way he looks at us, it is the same."

"I'm sure you're just overreacting, Sebastián. Orinos has always been a grumpy one. When I got picked for the national team, I was only seventeen, and in my first game I scored two goals. He didn't talk to me for a month after that! He just likes being the centre of attention."

"Perhaps you are right. I hope that you are."

"Don't worry about it! C'mon, let's catch up to the rest. We won't have much time for celebration before Faaberos makes us train again!"

"The coach, he is always a hard master, no? Let's go!"

Orinos Elzeros saw the exchange between his two teammates, and grimaced. It was bad enough when that little upstart started getting all the attention, now those barro men getting picked over pure-blood Spaamanians? The team was going down-hill, and he'd be damned if he would let anyone get in the way of the glory of Spaam.

by **Union of Socialist Alpine Republics** » Sat Apr 01, 2017 1:33 pm

Union of Socialist Alpine Republics National Football Team

Reprezentacja Alpejski w Pilka Nozna

Unija Socijalističke Alpske Republike Nacionalna Nogomet Momcad

Selección de fútbol de Unión de Repúblicas Socialistas Alpinas

Équipe d'Union des Républiques Socialistes Alpines de Football

Alpischen Fußball Nationalgemischtschaft

Sgioba Nàiseanta Ball-coise na Aonadh Sòisealach Ailpeach Poblachdan

Full nation name: Union of Socialist Alpine Republics
Short nation name: Alpine Union
Trigramme: UAR
Demonym: Alpines
Nicknames: Alpine Union, Alpines, Green & white, Bisons, Reprezentacja Alpejski
Team Colors: Green and white
Formation: 3-5-2
Style modifier: +3

Kits:
The U.S.A.R. doesn't have it's own kits and will use Prusy Krolewskie's kits which home colors are striped green and white kinda like Celtic F.C.'s jersey:

Our away colors are striped blue and black.

About the Union of Socialist Alpine Republics

History

Football is played in Prusy Krolewskie since the beginning of the 20th century. Prusy Krolewskie's first international games were in the baptism of fire 59, the Reprezentacja Pruski finished 2nd in group F and lost to Santaclausisgodistan in round of 16. Prusy Krolewskie also were in the World Cup 72 qualifications and finished fifth in group 5 with a 5-3-6 record. Prusy Krolewskie was then missing in action until we come back for the XI olympiads and the World Cup 76 where we finished 6th in group 6 with a 2-2-8 record. Prusy Krolewskie was invited at the Cup of Harmony and did very poorly. Then, the Reprezentacja Pruski participated in the 1st Independents Cup, for nations outside of the big three regions, but had a bad tournamant either. Prusy Krolewskie tried to qualify for the World Cup 77 and failed, but still had a pretty good run, enough to crack the top 100 in the KPB rankings and recieve an invitation to the Cup of Harmony 69. Prusy Krolewskie finished 3rd in its group with a 0-2-1 record.

All time record: 16-12-30

First game: 3-0 win vs Kaboomlandia @ baptism of fire 59
First win: 3-0 win vs Kaboomlandia @ baptism of fire 59
First draw: 1-1 draw vs Nova Anglicana @ world cup qualif. 72
First loss: 5-0 loss vs Panem @ baptism of fire 59
Biggest win: 4-1 win vs Arcantova @ world cup qualif. 72 ; 2 times 4-1 wins and a 3-0 win @ world cup qualif. 77
Biggest lost: 5-0 loss vs Panem @ baptism of fire 59
Greatest/Most memorable game: 2-2 draw vs West Saintland @ world cup qualif. 76

Venues

Schedule:

Staff:

Head Coach: Wlodzimierz Jastrzebowski
Ass Coach: Walter Madden
Ass Coach: Horst Engelbrecht

Roles:

Captain: Krzysztof Januszkiewicz
Penalty Taker: Zbigniew Zajaczkowski
Corners (left): Pawel Wawrzynkiewicz
Corner (right): Yannick Ksiezniakiewicz
Free Kicks: Sascha Welzmüller
Direct Free Kicks: Sarah Schroffenegger

Formation (3-5-2):

S----------ZAJACZKOWSKI-----------------KLEINEHEISMANN----------
ACM----------------------------ZALWOWSKA----------------------------
SM---WAWRZYNKIEWICZ------------------------SCHROFFENEGGER---
DCM------------WELZMÜLLER-------------KSIEZNIAKIEWICZ-----------
D---STRZYZOWSKI----------JANUSZKIEWICZ--------ZAWISTOWSKI---
GK----------------------------KWIETNIEWSKA----------------------------

Team Roster (starters in green):

#       Pos     Name                    Age     Team                      Birthplace
1	GK	Zofia Kwietniewska	26	Korona Malbork            Puck, WP
12	GK	Jennifer O'Byrne	24	VfL Schloßböckelheim	  Castletown-Bearhaven, HY
21	GK	Krzysztof Brzozowski	30	Puszcza Puszczykowo

2	SD	Wlodzimierz Szukielowicz 26	Widzew Pruszcz Ozorkowski Wloszczowa, WP  
4	SD	Bartosz Strzyzowski	31	Widzew Pruszcz Ozorkowski
9	SD	Przemyslaw Zawistowski	27	Gornik Ozorkow            Brzeszcze, WP
19	SD	Weronika Kaczorowska	29	Pogon Miedzyzdroje        Kostrzyn nad Odra, WP

3	CD	Krzysztof Januszkiewicz	31	Legia Puck                Puszczykowo, WP
13	CD	Grzegorz Radziszewski	29	Gornik Ozorkow
33	CD	Sabrina Hartmann	27	VfL Schloßböckelheim      Schloßböckelheim, AM
44	CD	Tearlach MacEachthighearna 25	Glengarnock Morton F.C.   Achnacloich, CD

6	SM	Sarah Schroffenegger	28	Pogon Miedzyzdroje        Sankt Katharinen, AM
7	SM	Pawel Wawrzynkiewicz	27	Legia Puck                Zlotow, WP
20	SM	Jedrzej Kosciukiewicz	25	Wisla Szczawnica          Szczawnica, WP 
22	SM	Krystyna Wisniewska	28	Lechia Krapkowice         Szczawno-Zdroj, WP

8	CM	Sascha Welzmüller	30	Borussia Ueckermünde      Buttstädt, AM
10	CM	Amelia Zalwowska	26	Gornik Ozorkow            Wloszczowa, WP
16	CM	Maciej Grzeszczyk	29	Gornik Mszczonow          Przasnysz, WP
17	CM	Bartlomiej Szczepankiewicz 27	Olimpia Szczebrzeszyn     Przeclaw, WP
27	CM	Slawomir Zoledziowski	25	Arka Wyszkow              Szonowo Krolewskie, WP
47	CM	Cristiano Fernando	25	Twyford F.C.	          Foz do Arelho, PT
71	CM	Zdzislaw Czereszewski	25	Zawisza Ozorkow		  Tyszowce, WP
77	CM	Yannick Ksiezniakiewicz	23	Pogon Miedzyzdroje        Ueckermünde, AM
		
11	S	Zbigniew Zajaczkowski	28	Pogon Miedzyzdroje        Miedzyzdroje, WP
14	S	Kevin O'Maoilsheachlainn 24     Rangers F.C.	          Knockskeagh, HY
15	S	Jean-François Kleineheismann 26	Borussia Ueckermünde      Longcochon, AM
18	S	Katarzyna Grzywinska	28	Korona Malbork            Wladyslawowo, WP

AM: Alsace-Mecklenburg
CD: Caledonia
HY: Hybernia
PT: Portugal
WP: Wschodnioprusy (Prussia East)

I Give My Opponent Permission To:
=================================
Choose My Goalscorers: Yes
Godmod Goalscoring Events: Yes
Injure Players: Yes
Godmod Injury Events: No
Red Card Players: Yes
Yellow Card Players: Yes
Godmod Other Events: Yes
=================================

by **The Iron Syndicate** » Sat Apr 01, 2017 1:43 pm

Our Great Divide

Chapter Three

“Drew, you know that there's a massive divide in this country because you grew up in Black Isle and lived it. If you hadn't been found by the scouts who want more star football players on the islands, you would still be living that divide, in Black Isle, hustling to keep the lights on and to not have to move back in with your parents. Don't try to act like it doesn't exist, just because you've been lucky enough to spend the last month or so living large in Portus with a new profession: footballer,” said Fau, the man who had gotten in the car with Drew C and Zandra Lux, who was trying to convince Drew to aid the secessionist movement back home on the stations. “This is how you can give back to the town that gave you everything before you were big. This is how you can make sure that your family has the best life that they can have back on Black Isle, until you're able to move them here-”

“So what do you even want me to do? Throw away this new career by joining the rebels and carrying out some attack for them in Portus? I'd rather give back to Black Isle in a way that isn't going to cost me my career. Or backstab the club that's actually giving me a better future,” Drew replied as they pulled out of the parking lot and onto the congested street that was heading towards the highway. One of the few bad things about living in Portus was the traffic, and it was a miracle that the traffic was able to move at all in such a massive city. “Let's not. It's not like I'm one hundred percent against the independence movements, because I can see how different the colonies and islands are culturally, but I'm not throwing away the only success I've ever had for this. Who are you working with, anyway?”

“The Space Liberation Organization, that you likely know as the SLO. We have a shaky alliance with the Feminist League that gives us a presence on the islands, and with the Green Alliance that splintered from them some years ago, but we still need support in every way possible. We could use your cash, Drew, and we know you have a lot of it now. There's not that many donors with enough money to make an impact, because us Territorial citizens rarely make it big, but you could make a big difference. And not only do you have money, but you have connections on the islands,” Fau continued, speaking like a salesman making a pitch for a car or some service. “You can set up one of our cells with places to stay, and use your importance as a footballer to get some access for them. You have more power than you think you do as a sportsperson in the capital… Bread and games, right?”

“If the SLO wants to blow something up in Portus, they'll have to get their own money and access to do it. I'm happy here, I'm not messing with that, and I don't necessarily agree with the SLO either. Yes, independence would be nice, but with the way that they're trying to get it, we’re just going to have plenty of bodies on the ground in the end for little gain. You'll see independent colonies, that have no real governance or reliable leadership, because of how weak the political wing of the SLO is. You want freedom so badly, but this ain't the way to get it.”

“And what way do you suggest going through? Ask them nicely to please leave our planets and let our space stations rule themselves? Write a letter to the Chief Executive explaining our plight?”

“I'm saying we have a National Council for decision making, and if you want independence, it would be better to follow the path of the Space Party. Sure, they don't hold enough seats to make a difference now, and they don't have many corporate sponsors to boost them over the competition, but they would be able to get more power if you all would support them instead of running off to play revolutionary and ruining their reputation by linking terror attacks and insurgency to them-”

“We aren't connected with the Space Party, there's nothing that we have in common besides the fact that we both have black and white as our main colors and both fight for the rights of Territorial citizens. We lean a bit more towards fighting for workers, they lean towards supporting the current capitalist system, they want to do everything through the Council and through lobbying, we’re the opposite. I don't know why people think we're the same group-”

“Doesn't matter why, bruv, all that matters is perception. Perception is reality and if people see you as the same group, it's going to negatively affect one or both of you. I'm gonna try to do something back home to help the stations, but I'm not joining this tinpot revolution that's going to hurt the only people who have a chance at actually creating a functional country. If you guys win, it's just going to be anarchy for a few months before the Syndicate uses it as an excuse to invade again and put even more boots on the ground than they already have.”

Fau sighed, staring out the window as they crept slowly through the gridlock. “Your life, mate, I just thought you'd want to help out the boys back home. I remember when we were buds, when you'd have my back with your fighting skills and I would help you out in other ways when I could. I know we haven't seen each other in forever, but I thought you would be up to give me some help. I've given my life to this thing, it's not like I can go back to living normally after becoming a marked member of the revolution. It's going to be hard enough just getting back home from here, especially if the security tightens up after our plans go into effect.”

“I'd help you if I didn't think the cause was going to be the source of more damage than benefit,” admitted Drew, looking at Fau through the rear view mirror. “Let's just wait and see how things pan out. You believe in the SLO, I believe in the Space Party, but… For now, neither of them are in striking distance to get what they want. Maybe I'll feel differently when they're on the edge of victory and what I can do will make a serious difference.”

“You act as if what you do now can't make a difference,” Fau replied. “As I said, you have more power to help us than you think you do. It's just a matter of whether you want to use it and take some risks, or whether you want to play it safe and sit this conflict out. That's the decision you'll have to make, and it's the one that I'm not going to be able to make for you.”

~

While Portus and the islands were as decadent as ever, and everything was going about as well as it was expected to go, there was a situation developing on the planet of Zalium, the home of one of the Iron Syndicate’s frontier colonies, the ones in deep space that were used for the purposes of mining and gathering resources as well as growing the population of the country without having to expand to more islands. The Syndicate was an extremely dense country where most of the people lived on islands that were filled to the brim with massive cities, and when they ran out of space, the need to head to the stars arose. That, along with the need for resources, had put them into space and brought them to the surface of two planets: New Portum, and Zalium.

Zalium in specific was becoming a political tinderbox that was ready to ignite, because the planet had long been inhabited by working class miners and factory workers who came here because of not having much and worked to produce the goods that would power the islands, but that culture was threatened. The cities that had become hubs of working class industrialism were becoming more and more gentrified as Ironite citizens from the islands arrived and set themselves up in fancy gated neighborhoods, and that gentrification brought a larger police presence than the planet had ever experienced. For a seedy place that had all manner of illegal activities going on in the background and that was known for large pockets of poverty and crime, that wasn't a good thing. The new colonists quickly became disliked by the locals, and the dislike quickly turned into fierce opposition.

When the governor of Zalium arrived on a spaceship that was heading back from the islands, he would find his capital city of Zalius filled with protesters who were turning an originally peaceful protest into a borderline riot that was seeing buildings being destroyed, police officers being injured, and cars burning in the streets. The mines weren't even open today because of the scale of the riots, and as soon as Laurent Cosmas exited the spaceport and boarded the armored truck that would be taking him from there to the gated neighborhood in the north, he was able to see just how bad things were getting. “How many are out in the streets today?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as they started down a street that the police were attempting to section off from the protests.

“I believe the amount is around six hundred thousand and is expected to grow as the work day ends and more protesters are able to join. However, the mines are already closed today, and that's what has such a large amount of protesters out early. We also believe that the SLO is involved in this, and that they haven't planned the protests but that they have inflamed the situation,” replied the adviser that was sitting next to him.

“All of this because the locals who have been here for slightly longer don't want anyone else colonizing their planet and doing the same thing that they themselves did? I see why nobody wanted to take the job of governor here, but this is worse than I expected it to be. What's the police force looking like right now? How many of them are out keeping this thing from getting too bad?”

“The force in Zalius is entirely mobilized right now, with the exception of the units guarding the capital district and the reserve units that are standing by in case this turns into an even bigger emergency. However, we may have to bring the reservists into this to contain the situation before it can get to that point. We do have reinforcements coming in from other cities, but they won't be here before evening when the numbers are expected to surge. The situation isn't looking great for us, but we do have the advantage of being able to deploy the special riot units that have been waiting for the order-”

“Do that,” said Cosmas, looking out the window as someone hurled a rock at it that bounced off after making a small scratch. The police were keeping the protesters away from the truck, but not from the street completely, and they'd been pelted with rocks since they arrived on the street and started heading to the north. “We need everyone we can get to be on the scene before it gets worse this evening… Though, I don't even see how it can get even worse from here.”

by **Kel Assuk** » Sat Apr 01, 2017 2:53 pm

They Rose from the Desert
Chapter 3: A New Direction for the Team

The first team training was - well, not quite a disaster or a fiasco, but almost. Eric preferred to think of it as an opportunity for improvement. Big improvement. To be brutally honest, the team sucked, badly. The defense needed a lot of work, and the offense tended to be of the classic "me-me-me" mentality that doomed many nations to failure. One player would take the ball all the way up to the other end of the goal, without passing to anyone else, in order to score the goal. Oftentimes, because they didn't work together, they would end up losing possession, and the whole cycle would start over again. Eric sighed; this team had a long way to go to improve their game.

"Stop playing like you're the only person on the field!" Eric would bark, but nobody would listen, and the team kept going on wallowing around the field like lost geese. In addition to the team's tactical disadvantages, they also had physical disadvantages, for the most part. Since the Kel Assuk league was only semi-professional and played mostly on weekends at night (to avoid the hot desert sun), most of them had not had the conditioning that they needed to compete truly against the world's best nations or even the world's middling nations. The team's sloth and languor was immediately evident to Eric, and he resolved to put the team through a challenging physical conditioning program to improve the stamina of his team and make them somewhat competitive on the world stage.

Plus, the Kel Assuk Board of Sport seemed pretty incompetent. Whoever had designed the team's kits obviously didn't have any idea in mind when he designed them, and the kits looked as if a six-year-old had thrown all the paint he had into a bucket and mixed them all together. The result - the ugliest kit in the multiverse. Eric theorized that if the team got better kits, they would start to have more self-confidence. He knew that Meski would design a stellar kit, but they were expensive; then again, Kel Assuk was awash in oil money. In addition to the poorly designed kits, the KASB often spent more time engaged in petty squabbling than in actually administering sport in the country. Paperwork routinely got "misplaced" in factional infighting over god-knows-what, probably who got a bigger cut of the bribe checks doled out in the office or whatever. It was clear that in order to improve the development of football in Kel Assuk, and bring it into the country from the grassroots level with adequate youth development programs, the country's governance would need to improve.

As practice wound down to a close, Eric called the team together and delivered a few choice words to the team frustratedly. "This team has a lot of work to do," he yelled. He drew a line with his vanishing spray. "If you don't want to put in the work to get better, then you don't belong on this team. If you want to go back to your old lives and go back to your old jobs, then step over this line. If you want to abandon your teammates and your team, then step over this line. Be warned: if you step over, you will avoid pain, you will see your wives and families more than you ever will if you do not. Take that into consideration. Is there anyone on this team that will step over the line?" Nobody budged an inch, nobody moved a muscle. "Are you sure?" Eric yelled. The team nodded solemnly.

"Good. I have some exciting news for you: the nation of Kel Assuk will be competing in the Independents Cup in two months' time. We'd better not disappoint the Board of Sport, and we'd better not disappoint the nation or the Amalen people. To do well, we must prepare. From now on, you will be training from dawn until dusk. I have faith in you, so I expect you to come out here every day and try your best to get better. We will be doing drills, lots of them. Shooting drills, tackling drills, goalkeeping drills, dribbling drills, running drills. You name a drill, we'll do it. We will be doing conditioning daily to improve your sorry butts. Push-ups, sit-ups, running, stretching. It will be a hard eight weeks, and you will be sore. But by the time they are up, you will be ready to compete with the best of them. You are dismissed. Get a good night's sleep, see you tomorrow."

Eric stormed off to his new office, a cramped corner in the depths of the Sports Complex, paid for by oil money, no doubt, although he wondered why they hadn't thought to build him a bigger office. At least it afforded him a good view of the sunset over the desert. As he packed up his things, he wondered if he had pushed the team too hard, too fast, and if he should have let the team off easy. But he eventually concluded that he had done the right thing, for, without his program of training, the team would go nowhere fast, and would never train. Then again, a tiny voice inside his head made him wonder if he would ever make his players truly passionate about football. After all, all he was going was external motivation; maybe his players needed internal motivation, so anything he ever did wouldn't work because the team wasn't motivated by itself to win. He dismissed such notions from his head; if he cared about the team, the team would care about itself. Besides, any player that wasn't passionate about the sport didn't deserve to be on the national team anyhow.

As he departed his office, one of his players surprised him from behind. "Mr. Desmond?" he asked tentatively. Despite Eric's earlier insistence that the team call him Eric or Desmond, not sir or Mr. Desmond, the team continued to call him Mr. Desmond, so Eric simply resigned himself to the honorific. "Can I help you?" Eric replied. "Saden, isn't it?" he asked the youth. "Yes. I just wanted to tell you that I've been talking to the rest of the team, and they're behind you. They honestly want to improve themselves and get better. Personally, I want to use football to get out of this heap of sand. Marandet is a new city and all, but the culture is still too conservative for me. I want to extend my wings and go out in flight." Eric put his hand on Saden's shoulder. "Believe me when I tell you this, Saden. You know what the rest of your team is like, and you are one of the bright spots of this team. You can do whatever you set out to do, and you will become a star. Just keep motivated, and keep the team motivated." Saden returned with a smile. "Can do, coach. See you tomorrow."

by **Tinhampton** » Sat Apr 01, 2017 3:17 pm

MAYOR ANDERSON WINS TIGHT ELECTION RACE

Her United Conservatives elected over Social Democrats by slimmest of margins, although coalition set to be more secure
GOVERNMENT: United Conservatives (34), Libertarians (19), Free Democrats (18), Tinhampton First (6)
OPPOSITION: Social Democrats (33), Green-Environmentalists (7), Equal Rights (6), Solidarity with Immigrants (6), Pirates (5), Humanist and Secularist (4), Miners' Party (4), Seriously Serious (4), Death to the State (2), Fluoride Free Tinhampton (1)

NOTE: Due to a lack of a roster from Space, I'm using the one from IndyCup 1.
"...what in the name of Boaty McBoatface is happening? We've seen a bunch of Margaretawful decisions being made today. It's already 11 o'clock in the p.m, and look what's happened - a fatal combination of elections, nukes, and the Mayoress wearing thigh-high boots! After all, it's not like three controversies have hung over Tinhampton before, right? WRONG!"
If you had the misfortune to live in Tinhampton, you had the misfortune of Election Day, the spectre of nuclear weapons, and the Anti-Government Hour on Tinner FM 103.2 - "The Most Politically Incorrect Show on the Airwaves!" Mayor Anderson was widely expected to become re-elected with her United Conservatives, but the Hour wanted to focus on something else entirely - current events. Nothing about the football, unusually, despite it being originally approved by Anderson. Sure, Tinhampton had its good years - 1928, 1966, 1983 through to 1985, 1989 through to 1992 or so, arguably 2016 - but, as ever, they were focusing on their bad years.

"Firstly, we go back to the end of 1939, when a combination of a looming World War, the question of a Tinhamptonian Army, and 10% unemployment faced the fledgling devolved settlement. By April '40, they were STILL whinging about whether it was supposed to be offensive or defensive, by which time the darnit fascists were days away from taking control regardless! We sorted out the employment and the army in time, but as for the war... that dragged on for FIVE YEARS!"
Meanwhile, Ian Jones' men were thankful that they were in the safety and comfort of Mercedini, whose main job in the whole mess - in lieu of being a faction member - was to target and defend without repercussions. They were up against Space, who had all-but claimed Carvi as home turf. With Tinhampton up against the unranked men, there was a question mark looming over the whole campaign. How did Tinhampton even get so lucky in the first place as to be in the perfect position to get to the octofinals? Would they survive? And what if radiation from elsewhere had somehow infiltrated into the game?

"Once that was done, we fast forward to 1959, the entirety of it, where Tinhampton was under the tyrannical reign of the Union of Communist Tinhampton - a government that made no sense, complete with a name that made no sense. Firstly, there was the mandatory a-the-ism and the Prayer Reportline. Secondly, there was a one-party system in all but functioning - sure, there were parties that weren't the Communist Party, but they were all pseudo-Communist SHAMS! Thirdly, the outright leader worship, the destruction of Tinhampton's values, very nearly the assimilation of Tinhampton itself!"
The match began with a reveal. After some negotiation between Jones and the Spaceans, an agreement was made for the literal stars on the other side of the pitch to tone their lights down to "regular levels". The bad news was that Tinhamptonians could barely see the opposition. The good news was that the opposition could barely see themselves. A few might have had recognised some of the Spaceans, but only the biggest die-hards. In the first 25 minutes, they missed countless good chances and two penalties; Tinhampton, on the other hand, missed two wayward shots by defenders.

"1965 was infamous, but we only saw the "invasion" of Brasilistan and lots of rain then, and two isn't equal to three no matter what our biased curriculum tells little Timmy, so that's being chucked out. Now we head towards 1972, when the madness could barely stop. Not only did we have a METRIC SLANITON of unnecessary amendment proposals which required an amendment in itself to outlaw the year after, but thousands died after "Big Max" smashed into the north-west - thanks, Unibotian scientists(!) - and a survey found that FORTY PERCENT of our kids were sleeping rough!"
For the Miners, the next 20 minutes went OK, but not superbly. One shot hit the woodwork, a couple of others were fairly close, and nothing on the scale of what happened at the start. The Spaceans, meanwhile, regressed to the mean (although a few regretted being mean, with yellow cards almost literally being thrown around the place - four of them, including one for us). This was the way they came into their dressing rooms at half-time - Tinhampton feeling better, and Space planning to go on the defensive.

"The hall of errors just kept getting bigger in 1982, when Mayor Brian Young gave us a few parting gifts: Abusing his power whilst engaging in bribery, deliberately ignoring international orders on the grounds that "we voted against them", and planning to release some of the worst campaign ads in our history! Actually, I think that's three-and-a-half. Regardless of what actually happened, he was impeached and replaced by Deputy Mayor Mark Johnson, who proved no match for our original Mayoress, Katrina Petroshenko, at the March elections. It took the Secessionist Riots to bring her down, but that was the only bad thing to happen in 1986, so let's skip that."
It is a fact of life - as much as Tinhampton is famous for its mines - that the Independents Cup is exclusionary of those from the "Big Three" sporting regions. You might be wondering how this ties in with Ursa Minor taking a drugs test, but let's start by saying that, at the start, the light was too much for the inspectors to bear.
"You know what? If I can operate a license to keep a Three-Toed Indecent Dolphin Mutant Thingy in Candlewhisper Anchovies or whatever they call the place nowadays, then I can operate this complex series of structure whatsits!" The workers were determined to find out the real identity of whoever Ursa Minor really was, if they were actually somebody else. Seven minutes (and a whole load of wires) after they started, the truth was unveiled - Ursa Minor was, in fact, a Krytenian who had only taken on the job "to keep myself entertained before the AOCAF". Ursa Minor was summarily chucked out for the rest of the tournament; it was to be 11 v 10 for the second half.

"1993 was, to put it frankly, one of the worst years in our history. Not only did we get a new government - which meant more stupid policies to deal with - but the treacherous scumbag that serves as our current Mayor got elected to office and immediately attempted to ram through some new proposals that fitted the new government's ones. To make things worse, gang violence reached an all-time high, and we saw one of our most violent years in history, as news footage from the 29th September shootdown at Canary Mall would testify. And also, the 35th Amendment. And also, Rubellan Measles. And also, thinking about it, 1993 really WAS the worst year in our history."
You may have noticed something different about Space once the second half kicked off - not only was Ursa Minor forcibly removed, but the lights were much dimmer. Of course, time prevented the stewards from detecting whether they were from here or there, but there was to be action regardless. It barely took the Miners 142 seconds before netting the first goal of the game - a corner kick was cleared away by Outpost Beta, but not before a short midfield tussle which led to a pass to Jackson on the wing. She then smacked it forward, ready for Evans to volley it in off the crossbar to make it 1-0. If there was ever a time in which (metaphorical) sisterhood was displayed so excellently in a world dominated by men, it was now.

"No discussion about this issue would be complete without 2003, when that treacherous scumbag somehow became Deputy Mayor of Tinhampton - under its beloved conservative government, of course. We had a heatwave, which led to people drinking more water and being indoctrinated into governmental beliefs as a result. We got that STUPID PSEUDO-STUDY from the University of Tinhampton, which claims that a girl's success in life growing up is related to their performance in beauty pageants. And yes, we got one of our four navy ships sunk in the Lahabana Harbour, which I can exclusively reveal to you had thwarted our planned invasion of a bunch of countries I don't have time to name here."
The goals might come in thick and fast; or they could have stalled instantly. This hovered around the game for a while, but hope was soon to come (or so many thought). Space had missed a free kick soon after the first goal, followed by a goal kick. How it found its way to James Wright, most of us will never know; how it found its way into the back of the net from 25 yards is a slightly more manageable preposition for most of us. But come what may, there was no doubt that Tinhampton was up 2-0 - not surprising, but not unsurprising either. The game would be on the edge if Tinhampton did not hold out for ten more minutes.

"We're nearly there, but let's talk about 2015 first, when that treacherous scumbag had found its way into the Office of the Mayor! Thankfully, its office has been relatively scandal-free compared to some of the horrid transgressions committed by the Social Democrats. Firstly, they really DID benefit from the votes of prisoners, and even from illegal immigrants purporting to be Tinhamptonians. Secondly, the "aid-for-trade" deal - not voluntary like the conservatives, but basically "If you don't sell your stuff to us, we're cutting off all ties with you". And thirdly, the Trolls from Tinhampton were exposed - supposed to spread pro-Tinhampton propaganda throughout the internet, and ended up sympathising with the Quaybeckian separatists and spreading the DEAT virus in Marche Noir. We might be going through some torrid times now, but they are infinitely better when compared to the old "Lisa Simpson Liberals" or whatever you wanna call 'em."
Thankfully, they survived those ten minutes, and dominated them as well. Tinhampton were now in a clear majority of possession (an otherwise unheard-of event for most), and their next goal was to be slightly less crazy than the last ones. A 30-yard free kick from Jackson - her again - had sailed into the penalty area, where substitute al-Khazr wound up netting a diving header through Mars' legs and the Milky Way's arms. It was clear that the match was getting crazy, but the result was anything but. Tinhampton were now in cruise control, with very little (if anything) to lose. As for Space? They had to throw everything at the Miners to succeed.

"And we fast-forward to now. Not only are we voting in perhaps the most contested election in a loooong time, and not only is the Mayoress faltering from widely-accepted custom, but we're being pummeled by nukes, and all because our STUPID GOVERNMENT thought that chucking two - TWO - test nukes at Testlandia would be a good idea. NOW look at how Reploid Productions and Luna Amore have nuked us to kingdom come! But then again, that's enough of my ranting about D-E-A-T FROM ABOVE for now. Sure, we created Talking About My Federation, but what does a good title give for an awful situation? Anyhow, with me in our safe underground bunker that we entered at eight o'clock is..."
For 20 more minutes, both teams attacked, only to be repetitively thwarted by the opposition, or the post. Eventually, after a long and tiring game, the result was in: Space 0, Tinhampton 3. With that scoreline, Tinhampton had made themselves the answer to a pub quiz question: "In the second Independents Cup, can you name the only team playing in Mercedini not to concede a goal after two games?" The situation back home was on the brink, with almost all of the city irradiated. Despite this, a group of workers had carried out overnight clearances (although one tourist from Mercedini complained that he was stopped 48 times on the way from the airport carpark to City Hall).

The situation back home was on the brink, with almost all of the city irradiated - thanks but no thanks to a Sedgistani puppet, it was all of the city. Despite this, a group of workers had carried out overnight clearances (although one tourist from Mercedini complained that he was stopped 48 times on the way from the airport carpark to City Hall). Unfortunately, Roosevetia - a fellow Fictitious State - did similarly bad, being pummeled with 22 nukes from Electrum, and then countless more by the International Geese Brigades (the semi-official faction of the sporting world). "We Kick Butt" was, for once, an appropriate motto for the Electrumites.
Of course, this was all exposed as a hoax on the 1st of April, ironically. Everybody was evacuated after the polls, with only those taking the ballots to City Hall able to see. One of them, identified only as Simon, stated that "it was a drill, an utter sham - thankfully didn't sway the election one way or another, but it sure scared a lot of 'em people". Turns out that everybody was safe. The real danger? An unexploded nuclear bomb, which was "six minutes away from irradiating Tinhampton". You see, there's an old saying circulating around back home that goes "it isn't really a day until there's reports coming in of an unexploded bomb". Or, at least, that was the watchword in the 1970s - it might have changed since, but our way of life barely has.
"At last...! We made it through, and it wasn't at all what I expected it to be. I won the election, only a thousand people died, and our brave WA officers are set to publish a new proposal in the Security Council for all and sundry to comment on. It could have been worse - I could have been lambasted for my clothing!" The Mayor listened to a lot of things on the 1st of April, but she was clearly not listening to Tinner FM as March became April.

SPACE 0-3 TINHAMPTON: IT'S A KNOCKOUT!

Tinhampton make the round of 16 on their first try after unbelievable second-half goals
Space 0 -- Tinhampton 3 (Evans 48', J Wright 56', al-Khazr 67')

Independents Cup II [Everything Thread]

IAC-2 MD-1 Caro Tyree 2/3

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