World Cup 91 [roleplays]

by **Tumbra** » Tue Jun 14, 2022 10:00 am

Tumbra 3-1 Pemecutan

TMB (4-2-3-1): 1 - Nick Barker; 2 - Ryan Hughes, 4 - Stephen Kerr (14 - Ashburn, 66'), 5 - Harry Henderson, 3 - Nigel Harris; 6 - Trudy Harrison, 8 - Vincent Hicks (16 - Andrew Fisher, 75'), 10 - Phil Cole; 7 - George Hilton (17 - Valerie Wells, 75'), 9 - Robin Vaughn, 11 - Nick Riordan

TMB scorers: Nick Riordan (16'), Phil Cole (37'), Robin Vaughn (88')

Player of the Match: Robin Vaughn [TMB]

Tumbra's second upset of the World Cup would see them come out on top over rapidly-rising stars Pemecutan, as they were put to the sword by a vintage performance from Tumbra's main attacking trio. The game, however, would start off more shakily for the Black Eagles than any of their three group stage matches; with Leo Olivando, one of Pemecutan's stars whose stock has risen dramatically since their run to the Finals two years ago, scoring first in the seventh minute. An uncharacteristic mistake from Nick Barker after a superb shot from the young Pemecutanian would lead to him spilling the shot into the Tumbran net. It would be the first goal Tumbra conceded at this edition of the World Cup; ending his run of clean sheets and putting Tumbra in real danger for the first time this tournament. Despite Barker's mistake, the goal would still be counted as one for Olivando; and Tumbra's difficult task was made harder, just ten minutes into the game.

The Black Eagles would strike back, however; within ten minutes Nick Riordan would strike back with a goal of his own. A cross from George Hilton would meet the striker's head, and send it past Aksabala Jandisuga after just six minutes to tie the game. Tumbra would hold the game from then; a remarkable reversal of fortunes from when the game just began. Trudy Harrison in particular was praised for her presence all over the pitch; her heat-map after the game was widely shared as a quintessential example of just how good the box-to-box midfielder was. It would be her relentless pressing that would deprive Pemecutan of control over the midfield, starting many a counterattack and allowing Tumbra to press further up the pitch than the Eagles normally would; as a result, putting much more stress on Pemecutan to try and break out of it. In the end, Tumbra would once again take the lead in the thirty-seventh minute of play, with a Phil Cole near-post shot.

Tumbra, with the lead and confident that there wouldn't be many more defensive lapses on their side, eased off the gas a little bit; Harrison was advised, too, to save energy for the second half. The second half would see Pemecutan attack, attack and attack again; the Kitara AA star, Dewa Putu Mahardika, would have a clear shot on goal that was brilliantly parried by Barker in the eightieth minute, as the White Mynahs sought to come back into the game. Yet, it would be the Black Eagles' Captain Tumbra Robin Vaughn who would come through in the end; getting on the end of a Valerie Wells low cross to finish the third goal and put the game's result well beyond doubt.

The win represents Tumbra's felling of their strongest-ever opponent; the second-in-the-world Pemecutanians toppled the record set by the fourth-ranked Vanorians just three matches ago. That record, however, may yet be toppled after just one more match — as the Black Eagles' next opponents are none other than The Holy Empire.

The top-ranked team in the entire world.

The Holy Empire
Previous Appearances: 61 First/Latest Appearance: 1/90 Best Result: Champions (5x - 48, 60, 62, 69, 90)
Captain: Constantine Lascaro Key: Juan Tzimisces
vs Tumbra: Quarter-Final @ Háttmark
DÉJÀ VU — Tumbra has been here before.

It ended up being a 2-3 defeat to the juggernauts of world football, Stephen Kerr's seventy-fifth minute goal against the Imperials failing to produce the needed third to force an extra thirty minutes of play. In hindsight, it was probably the most normal team the Empire had put out in a while; a brief look at the annals of the World Cup reveals the veritable wealth of...teams that have turned out for the Empire. A team of the Great Old Ones, previously thought of to only exist in the words of authors. Jumping lima beans. A cloud of fog.

This time, however, the Empire have put out a team of something is terribly wrong. They are people as you and I would understand them, of course; they have two arms, two legs, two eyes, ten fingers and all the other human-related bits but something is terribly wrong. They have sprouted extra body parts after little parasites, it seems, which renders the previous sentence somewhat inaccurate; they do indeed have two arms, two legs, two eyes, ten fingers and all the other related bits. The only qualifier needed here is that they now have at least two arms, two legs, two fingers, ten fingers and, uh, a bit more of some of the related bits. Tumbran parents have reported their kids crying after unpacking stickers containing the Holy Empire's team in the little football albums, claiming something is terribly wrong.

Of course, Juan Tzimisces — he of the present, past, and forever — has denied claims that anything is terribly wrong with his team. Reactions to this in Tumbra have been mixed; some accept that the long-serving football coach's explanation, some rubbish it and claim that the The Holy Empire's team requires medical attention, not to be thrust onto a football pitch, while others have been strangely drawn to the substitute midfielder Andronicus Cantucazeno's...features. Still others claim that nothing is terribly wrong with The Holy Empire's football team, or the Empire in general; that instead of being located in another realm, they are simply located far, far away; or that they can't even see anything terribly wrong with the Empire's players, insisting that they are perfectly normal humans with two eyes, two legs, two hands and almost every other regular feature of any human being, and nothing more.

The human mind goes a very, very long way to rationalise what is going on around them. The Great Old Ones could've been men in costumes, as were the lima beans. The fog? Just a weather condition that masked the actual players for the Empire. Juan Tzimisces' Eleven from World Cup 87? Just eleven people who looked perfectly like Tzimisces, achieved by plastic surgery or were just born that way, and who changed their names via deed poll. This batch? Prosthetics, more lurid plastic surgery; any explanation that could possibly preclude the existence of concepts that simply do not make sense becomes clung to, like a safety net. Two years ago, we wrote that Tumbra's encounter with the Holy Empire would be a journey off the placid island of ignorance into the black seas of infinity, in which Tumbra was not meant to journey far. Two years on, that journey resumes; but hopefully with a better outcome for the Tumbrans than previously.

After all, they did beat the world's number 2 team.

PREVIOUSLY ON DEFENDER MEETS MIDFIELDER

Straton has proven to be considerably more welcoming than Kingsbury for world-class midfielder Trudy Harrison; but naturally, she's still nervous about having dinner with her boyfriend's (who's also her team-mate, and world-class defender Stephen Kerr) family. Even more so, now that she knows that Stephen's sister, Stephanie, is planning to reveal that she's in a relationship with a girl at the same dinner. As the sun sets on another day in Tumbra, how will dinner with the Kerrs go? And is Charles Harrison truly out of the two's lives yet?

Link to previous part | Link to arc home
defender meets midfielder: season 6, part 11
the kerrs

Straton

As Trudy Harrison ate, it became increasingly obvious where Stephen had gotten his cooking talent from. Sylvia Kerr had gone all out for her children's homecoming; and there was a lot of food, even for six people. The vegetables were perfectly sautéd; the snapper in the middle of the table was grilled to perfection, and the meat was oh-so-soft (though she had shyed away from the eyes, which Stephen's father Bertram relished with aplomb), the steamed eggs the perfect temperature and consistency; the rice soft and fluffy. It took a bit of time to get used to the chopsticks, and she felt Stephen snigger slightly when she dropped yet another piece of tofu; but every time, he would pick it up for her and place it on top of her rice, for her to eat.

The atmosphere, though, was palpably tense; sitting opposite Stephen and Trudy was Stephen's younger sister, Stephanie; and the lady who was presumably her girlfriend, Helle. Both the two had been remarkably quiet since stepping into the Kerr household; and they'd politely rebuffed most attempts at conversation, the two of them huddled together on the sofa. Trudy noticed the two of them holding hands whenever Sylvia wasn't looking, but quickly stopped whenever Sylvia came into the living room to talk to any of them. They'd stopped entirely once Bertram had come home; he'd made some pleasantries with the three of them in the living room, but was otherwise in the kitchen, helping Stephen and Sylvia with the cooking.

Glancing across the table, Trudy saw Helle and Stephanie exchange skittish glances at each other, still afraid of what was coming up. Stephanie looked much like Stephen; her shoulder-length hair ending in a calming shade of aqua, her round-framed glasses accentuating her face nicely. Helle's rush of blond hair set her apart from the rest of her dining companions; but apart from that, too, she struggled with her chopsticks.

In the end, it was Sylvia who decided to break the silence; after pointedly asking how the food was, and receiving nods of affirmation from everyone around the table.

"Well, uh, how about you tell us about your guests, both of you? Stephanie?"

"Uhh...maybe after Stephen," while shooting a pointed glare across the table.

"Yeah! Yeah, yeah, yeah, sure." Stephen kicked into gear, smiling widely. "Mom, Dad, Steph, Helle," he said, acknowledging Stephanie's girlfriend with a nod and a small smile, which was duly reciprocated. "This is, uh, Trudy."

"Hi." Trudy waved.

"Uh, I'm not sure whether any of you follow football, but Trudy is my team-mate at my club. I play in defense, she plays in midfield. Uh. We met each other when we went for the Under-18 World Cup, all that time ago; and, uh..."

Stephen looked at Trudy and inhaled before continuing.

"We've been going out for a while, now, and I thought today would be a good time to tell both of you that we're official. Uh...Yeah."

Sylvia smiled almost immediately; Bertram, on the other hand, remained rather po-faced. Trudy glanced, worried, at Bertram; then a kind smile emerged on his face.

"I'm proud of you, Stephen; and, well, you two look very good together. I don't follow football much, but, uh, I've tried to follow your club, Stephen; and I've always thought that you, Trudy, are an excellent footballer. I'm glad you and my son are an item; I think you'll be a good fit for him, and I hope he's been a good fit for you so far."

"Uh, yeah! Yeah, he has. He's been with me through...a lot. A lot of things." Trudy felt Stephen's hand grasp hers, and squeeze it thrice; she squeezed thrice in return. "Yeah."

Chromatika. The league. Feelings. Kingsbury.

"A lot of things. And I'm very grateful for that."

"Are you living together in Chromia? I heard rent there is pretty crazy."

"Uh, yeah!" Stephen jumped in. "She moved in after we started dating."

"Mhm! Rent is fairly high there, yeah. We live together."

"Well, I think your dad and I now know where we're going on our next holiday." The table shared a laugh. "You two look very happy together, and I'm very happy that you two have found each other."

"Thanks." The atmosphere around the table had warmed significantly; presumably this was something that Stephanie and Helle had wanted. Trudy sneaked a glance at the two of them, and her suspicions were proved correct; the expressions on their faces had lightened considerably, and they looked way more relaxed than at the start of the evening.

Sylvia, still smiling, turned to Stephanie and Helle.

"How about you, Stephanie? What about your guest today?"

"Uh, well, this is Helle...I met her while studying in Serrapince."

Helle nodded.

"Before we go on, though, there's something I gotta tell you. Mom. Dad."

"What would that be?

"I...uh..." stuttered Stephanie, the usually-confident art student at a loss for words. A quick glance at Helle, though — almost similar to the one Stephen gave Trudy — and she found the strength to continue. "Well, uh, Helle is my girlfriend. I've been in a relationship with her since senior year. And, uh, yeah. I'm a lesbian. I've known since secondary school, but I was too scared to tell anyone, except, well...Stephen. That's what I wanted to tell you."

"Oh, Stephanie, that's wonderful. I'm happy you found someone to love."

"R...really?"

"Yeah. We're just happy that you're with someone that makes you happy."

"To be honest, Stephanie, we did have our suspicions that you weren't really that interested in boys for a while. It took us a bit for us to understand what that meant, but in the end we came to the conclusion that as long as you're happy with who you are and who you're with, we're happy with that too. And you certainly seem happy with Helle."

Stephanie's face lit up, as she glanced at Helle and both her parents, who were both smiling. "Oh my God. This...I didn't...I...Thank you."

Trudy had volunteered to do the dishes; partly a way to let Stephen rest after the evening he'd spent cooking, and partly a way to be nice to her hosts. Sylvia had tried to stop Trudy from doing it, but Stephen had told her to just let Trudy have at it. She was joined by Stephanie; who'd was presumably trying to get away from the hubbub of the living room; but she suspected Stephen's sister was also trying to get to know her better.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"So, big night, huh? You finally coming out to your parents."

"Yeah. I mean, I was terrified that it wouldn't go well. But I'm glad it did. Y'know? I'm glad I get to finally, heh, be myself. Remaining in the closet did get kinda suffocating."

"Stephen told me...I'm glad it went well. I'm glad to see you being able to be yourself. I get that." Trudy grabbed a plate from the sink and began scrubbing.

"Yeah. Stephen told me a lot about you. Kinda why I'm here. Y'know, I'm proud of you. I know, we've barely met, and we don't know each other, and this is a lil' strange to say to someone you've just met, but good God does your dad sound like an absolute bitch. Don't worry. I didn't tell anyone. But I'm proud of you for staking your own path."

"Thank you," she quietly said. It felt nice to have her decision backed up by someone. "Wait. How much does Stephen tell you?"

"Relax, it's only the basics. You should've seen him before you confessed to him, though. God, I was trying to help him through his indecision every day! It was really funny. Really sad, too. But mostly funny."

"Eh?"

"Oh. He kept talking about how great you were. How pretty you were, how much of a good friend you were to him. He didn't want to confess to you because he was scared that if he did, he'd mess everything up. I'm glad you took the lead, if I'm being honest; if you hadn't done so, I think he'd still be trying to figure things out. He loved you. Well, he still does; that much is very obvious. I'm not one to say this normally, but treasure him. Urk. Saying those words felt weird."

"I know." A soft smile emerged on Trudy's face.

"Y'know, go and join him. He's out in the front garden. I'll do the dishes. No, you won't be able to convince me. You're literally a guest in his house. And my parents love you. No dish-doing required to get them on your side."

"Alright." Headstrong as Trudy was, she knew that Steph only had her best interests at heart. "Thanks, by the way. I really appreciate it."

"Don't mention it. After all, you're basically part of the family now."

Trudy found Stephen in the front garden of the house, staring silently into the night. Approaching from behind, she put her arms around him; then kissed the top of his head.

"Hey there, cowboy," she said in a low voice. "How's it hangin'? God, I can't —" she coughed "Yeah, no, let's forget I ever did that."

Stephen laughed. "Didn't expect you to come out here. Thought you were doing the dishes and all that."

"Steph told me to come here, spend time with you. Y'know, I could ask you the same thing. Poor old Helle's being bombarded with questions in there."

"I know. It's just...actually. The ground's dry. Have a seat?"

Tentatively, Trudy dropped to a squat and felt the ground with her hands. After confirming it, she sat down, and leant into Stephen. Stephen put his arms around her.

"Okay, bear with me. Right." Stephen inhaled and exhaled, evidently trying to phrase his words carefully. "You know how on our last night in Kingsbury, Charles said something along the lines of 'be careful what you wish for?'"

Stephen felt a nod hitting his chest. Gently, he continued.

"I've been thinking about it ever since. Well, dinner aside, which went pretty well, but I kept thinking about it. I mean, he's a pretty powerful guy. He could do...well, pretty much anything. I mean, Aurora's probably the biggest media group in the country."

A bit more burrowing into his chest.

"And, well, I'm...I'm not one to doomsay, or whatever. But I need you to be prepared. Both of us will have to be. Okay? Because I get a feeling this isn't over yet. Even with the fifty million. Even with you not being part of his family anymore. Actually, that's...what I'm most scared of."

"What?"

"You're not part of the Harrisons. Not anymore. Listen, I've been doing some digging online — okay, it was ten minutes — but the one thing that newspapers in this country refuse to report on was your family. Nothing about your mom. Nothing about your dad. Well, nothing negative, anyway. Nothing on the sort of thing John Ashburn experienced when it turned out his brother was an alcoholic, and he'd been trying to keep it secret. Trudy. Do you see where I'm going with this?"

"No...not particularly."

Another deep breath. "Well, until two nights ago you were a Harrison."

"Mm-hm."

"The media refuses to report on the Harrisons."

"Right."

"Well, you're no longer a Harrison. We cast off that last anchor. We're in danger now. He knows we're in a relationship. Who else knows? My family. The Chromatik dressing room. That's it."

Trudy's heart began to sink.

"But now that he knows that we're together, and since you're not under his protection..."

"Fuck." Trudy unwrapped herself from Stephen's arms. "I can't believe this is happening because of me. I made a mistake, didn't I? Oh God."

"It's not because of you, Trudy. You made the right choice, and I'll support you wholly." Stephen remained resolute and calm. "We...we just have to be prepared for the eventuality that our relationship is going public."

"I don't want it go to public...I've put your family in danger, now. Stephen, I'm a danger to you. I don't know what to do."

"You're not a danger to me. I'll be here with and for you, whatever happens. I'm ready. We'll all be here. And I've got a few ideas."

"What...what do you suggest we do?"

"We could beat him at his own game."

Lineup for The Holy Empire vs Tumbra, World Cup 91 Quarterfinal

Starters: 1 - Nick Barker; 2 - Ryan Hughes, 5 - Harry Henderson, 14 - Ian Ashburn, 3 - Nigel Harris; 6 - Trudy Harrison, 16 - Andrew Fisher, 10 - Phil Cole; 17 - Valerie Wells, 9 - Robin Vaughn; 11 - Nick Riordan

Bench: 12 - Andrew Taylor, 13 - Victoria Jones; 18 - Nicholas Moss, 4 - Stephen Kerr, 19 - Chris Carter, 20 - Raymond Perry; 8 - Vincent Hicks, 15 - Mark Finnemore, 23 - Susan Monaghan; 7 - George Hilton, 21 - Lynne Crossley, 22 - Bruce Nolan

by **Zwangzug** » Tue Jun 14, 2022 7:38 pm

"A shootout, I can't believe it. Roll the tape!"

"Okay, hold on, give me a minute."

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for the tape, it's back here somewhere."

"...It's not a literal tape, it's a metaphorical tape. We have advanced digital technology, it's all in the cloud somewhere."

"I'm well aware of our technological capabilities, I just thought--never mind."

"What--" (the Zwangzugian flat question accent) "--even is that tape."

The metaphorical tape, the advanced digital technology, says this:

"Greetings from Bojno Polje! I'm still Melinda Pross, and this is Tobias Hilbert. What's the outlook?"

"Pasarga are an experienced side--it took a coin-toss to separate them from the host Farves in Group E."

"Meanwhile, the World Cup Commitee is expected to issue 'unofficial guidance'--although given the kinds of teams we see these days I don't think they have very rigorous standards about anything--that may allow national teams to have more substitutes on the bench or in individual games."

"And that's timely, because Zwangzug have picked up an injury in training camp--not through collision or muscle exertion, but because of an unfortunate jellyfish attack. Fortunately, Fedya Troy-Vee is expected to make a full recovery, however, he will be unavailable for the rest of the tournament."

"Which could be a brief hour and a half for Zwangzug, all things considered. But let's send it down to the pitch..."

"...universities hoping to snap up another round of international students during this year's transfer window."

"Imomenba with a long pass up to Axelrod-Conway, who relays it over to Dulk-Fough, who...sends it in! Twenty-four minutes elapsed, and Zwangzug draw first blood against the Wanderers!"

"I think that's a bit uncalled for, Melinda, in these trying times."

"What?"

"They're dealing with civil unrest, there was an assassination attempt, and political violence is on the rise. First blood is not what anyone wants to be drawing."

"Excuse me. Zwangzug get on the scoreboard first, thanks to Quincy Dulk-Fough, but a lot of football still to play..."

"...Nándor Slots one of the players whose career is threatened by the instability in the...oh I can't pronounce them...Siovanija and Teusland league, but his national team form still solid."

"As the match passes the hour mark, Ginoud-Sachs dispossesses Slots in midfield. Kayla Haugen sees an opening, steps back to avoid the talented Viktor Szôcs, trying to stay onside. Here's the pass from Ginoud-Sachs, Haugen shoots--caught by Mezei! Szescõ Mezei denies Haugen and he'll send it back upfield now. Nice reaction, the Zwangzug midfield didn't look prepared for that--Vojmil Topić comes up with it, and the CA Paulinthal man will push forward. Vizirani can't keep up, and that's a goal! A brilliant turnaround for Pasarga, and we're all square here in minute 61..."

"...the Eagles' Cup providing Zwangzug with lots of experience in extra time situations. The Wanderers are fortunate to sport plenty of talented players up front, but aren't a particularly offensively-minded side, they may prefer to exhaust their opposition and hope for more counterattacking opportunities."

"Szölösi will take the kickoff for the beginning of extra time, and we're underway..."

"...Rakeruth featuring an enviable dilemma in having both Topić, who tied things up, and Vojmil Topić available at left wing. And at the added interval, it sounds like he's going to sacrifice tactics for skill, throwing the Mâ Âlâmëómë youngster in on the right. Considering how difficult it is to navigate in this country, you'd think Farfadillis-based players can barely tell left from right anyway."

"Kate DiMarini has been more hesitant with her substitutions--we saw Richardson come on for Sokhi and Mibang for Gannett, but still holding back on the third. Is anyone on this team a penalty specialist?"

"Maybe Waugh instead of Jackson to add more finishing ability. Let's hope it doesn't come to Helsen-Roan or McWhorter..."

"...the fourth official has only signalled for one more minute, but DiMarini stalling, she seems to be...what's this? She's bringing on...Ketevan Igreli, allegedly the birthday girl, for the shootout!"

"With Troy-Vee out of commission...huh. Pimbura struggled in the Eagles' Cup against Tumbra, but held her own against Chartistan. She's relatively stronger in open play when she can react to opportunities before they occur, but is taking this chance away from her likely to hurt her confidence?"

"Tobias, it's the World Cup knockout stages, anything can hurt people's confidence. I prefer to think of it as a bold stratagem from DiMarini, Igreli mostly known for her interest in chess problem loopholes. But what a time for her to step up!"

"Well, we'll know soon enough."

Zwangzug win the coin toss and shoot first; Quincy, still the consensus finisher, taps his just right of center, and Mezei is a touch too slow. Topić is first up for Pasarga, but his hits the crossbar and collapses limply in front of the goal.

Kayla is next, momentum in her favor--her team is ahead, there should be no extra weight on her shoulders--but her shot is weak, and this time Mezei dives to the left and palms it away. Elek Salai steps up for the Wanderers, and hammers it into the far corner. 1-1.

Farrokh takes his time in the runup, tracing a wobbly loop, and then putting plenty of lift on the ball. Too much lift; if not row Z, it heads for at least row Ç (this being Farfadillis). Boriska Nagy is speedier and more direct, but similarly errant, as hers caroms off the left goalpost.

Esther cannot be benefitting much from home-league advantage at this point--this is football abstracted away, simplified down so it is no longer football, the surreal violence and fires beyond them no longer a distraction--but she gives a half-deke and then blasts with her right foot. 2-1. Biró, her teammate from Mâ Âlâmëómë, is just as purposeful, keeping his focus low. But this time, Ketevan moves with the ball--a pawn, capturing diagonally, diverted from her normal course in time to bat it away.

Kausalya is, again, the choice for the fifth kicker. Again, the announcers say, it's probably not due to her kicking so much as her resilience if she falters. Which she does, or rather, Mezei's instincts are sharp, a kick save to his right. But Kausalya has always been one to take her own ability in stride. The only question is how much she can extend that aura over her teammates.

Szölösi mirrors her for the Wanderers, and Ketevan's posture is hardly one for open play when someone might step up for the rebound--she drags herself sideways so the ball can collide with her, and blinks, numb-eyed--the rook, castling, protecting--and it falls away, where an astute Farf stadium worker will later think to nab it, long after she has been hidden from sight by her teammates' limbs.

by **Turori** » Wed Jun 15, 2022 10:36 am

Eels Snag Dragonflies for First time in History

La Gran Avenida, Farolera, Farfadillis :: As teams and fans made their way treacherously through the dangerous froests within Farolera, they were ultimately rewarded with the prize of reaching La Gran Avenida, one of the most captivating and modern stadiums in use at the World Cup 91 Finals from Farfadillis. Their second reward would be the most high-stakes matchup of the entire Round of 16, regardless of location being in either Farfadillis or Græntfjall as the two nations competing on the day were both ranked inside the Top 5 of the latest World Cup Committee Rankings and would be labeled among the favorites to win the World Cup Title... should they advance from the Round of 16.

Although Turori would enter the match on paper as minor favorites - coming in as the top seed in their group as well as being ranked one place higher than Ko-oren in the World Cup Committee Rankings, history would suggest that there was only one possible outcome for the match: A 3-1 victory for Ko-oren.

Although the Dragonflies now pride themselves in an ultra-restrictive approach to footsport that resulted in the best goals against record in World Cup 91 Qualifying, the previous matchups between the two historically defensive teams have not always gone the way of the Karelan prophecy. Turori and Ko-oren have met once approximately every ten World Cup cycles and the World Cup 91 Second Round matchup would be the third all-time World Cup meeting between the two sides with Ko-oren having won the previous two matchups during the Group Stage of World Cup 74 and World Cup 84 by an identical 3-1 scoreline. While they didn't wait all the way until World Cup 94 to be drawn against each other again, it was to be the first ever knockout round match between the two teams.

With perhaps their toughest opponent of the campaign in front of them, Turori National Team head coach Tarek Edgeli brought some experience back into the squad handing 37 year old veteran and set-piece specialist Daliora Toru'u a rare start. Although previous matchups between the two nations have been higher scoring, Edgeli was preparing for a match that would be played between the defensive lines and was gambling that the Eels best chance to get on the scoreboard might be from a set play opportunity. While Daliora Toru'u has not been as effective from open play throughout the previous cycle of World Cup Qualifiers, the Yeaddin Owls midfielder had not lost any of their famous set piece skills.

Edgeli's decision to sacrifice play making for skills in dead ball scenarios ended up being the critical decision in the match. As expected both defenses were able to effectively deny quality goal scoring opportunities with the Dragonflies slightly outplaying the Eels in the middle of the field. However, when Minne van Schelven took down Tulaki Rauogba while the Turorian was turning twenty-two yards from goal, Toru'u took the ball from a timid Tulaki to tee up a textbook training ground play. Toru'u called directions like a gridiron quarter back with arm in the air guiding the players where to be and giving the appearance of a two pronged play. The Turorian's gained position in the wall then strategically gapped right where Toru'u had informed them to leaving just enough room for the ball to squeeze through with it now having a clear view to the back of the net. It was vindication for Edgeli on twii.tur after many initials threads questioning the wisdom of starting the veteran player than many considered too far past their prime to represent the national team any further.

Turori would hold on through to half time with a 1-0 lead where Edgeli would make some slight chances to the tactic while introducing Naraiza Ruaplal in an attempt to help the Eels get back more of the possession they were losing in the midfield. For all the tactical considerations, however, it was a mistake in the 55th minute that ultimate sealed the match in favor of the Eels. Whether it was a wet patch of grass or simply a poorly weighted back pass with miscommunication between defense and goalkeeper, Turakia Diijelhma was gifted a goal just 10 minutes into the second half simply by getting the first touch on the back pass that was intended to be punted clear by Dragonflies goalkeeper Edou Bittencourt. With a small touch Diijelhma was clear past the momentum of the rushing Aminey CS netminder and left with a simple tap in to double Turori's advantage in what would be the final goal of the night. Ko-oren would continue to push but with a strong defense, a two goal advantage and two substitutions left in hand, the confidence from the Eels sidelines was real. After introducing Loala Inkabu and Kinabo Telioa to help see out the match, the Turori National Team would secure their first ever World Cup Victory over Ko-oren and set up a tantalizing Quarter Final matchup with fellow Eagle's Club members Zwangzug for a place in the World Cup Semi-Final.

 Turori 2 - 0 Ko-oren	
	Turori Goals:	:: 36' Daliora Toru'u:: 55' Turakia Diijelhma             
	Stats :: Turori 	:: Possession: 41%:: Shots: 4:: Corners: 5 :: Ko-oren :: Possession: 59%:: Shots: 4:: Corners: 2
	Turori Lineup :: 	Derizi Amatopa, Amakli Inuro'o, Moumouni Verre'elali, Karek Edgeli, Planio’o Nrujsa, Cuoabaza Orani’aoa (Naraiza Ruaplal 45'), Kiidallen Aeroluzzi (Kinabo Telioa 65'), Daliora Toru'u, Tulaki Rauogba, Nua'oma Aikiki, Turakia Diijelhma (Loala Inkabu 58')

World Cup 91 - Quarter Finals :: Turori v. Zwangzug

While a simple look at the history between Turori and Zwangzug may initially seem to just be a couple of matchups in the World Cup Group stage, the two nations have met numerous times in other pre World Cup cycle competitions - particularly in the Eagle's Cup.

The first such meeting between the two sides came during Eagle's Cup VI, at a time when Zwangzug were not regularly investing to send their National Team traveling through the multiverse to play World Cup Qualifying matches. The Zwangzug National Team had previously seen the Eagle's Cup as a lower-burden means of providing experience to their players as they eased into the merits of a return to the grueling World Cup Qualification schedule and by many accounts the team was already overachieving having reached the Eagle's Cup Semi-Finals at the Eagle's Club in Eelandii. Zwangzug would not stop there, however, winning 3-1 to eliminate the Eels and advance to the Eagle's Cup Final for the first time, they would go on to Win the Eagle's Cup VI Competition in Turori.

With the Turori National Team having won the third edition of the Eagle's Cup and Zwangzug having defeat Osarious 2-1 in Extra Time to with the sixth edition of the Eagle's Cup, the two nations both became eligible for continued particpation in the competition on a cyclical basis by virtue of the Eagle's Group in the Cocoa-bo Challenge Trophy.

As a result, the next meetings between the sides would come after the passage of some time when Eagle's Cup VII was held. It would be, as of now, the last Eagle's Cup competition that saw participation from another former Eagle's Cup Champion: Bedistan, in a group that contained Bedistan, Nephara, Turori and Zwangzug. It wouldn't be until the third match day where the two would meet at the Almintora National Stadium in Turori's capital city, Almintora. The first ever meeting between the two sides would be won by Zwangzug 3-1. It would also, however, be the first real memory for fans of footsport in Zwangzug of Meldi'ita Mungwaii - the Turorian striker and all time leading scorer who later in their career would make a switch to play their domestic competitions for Zwanguzg based club Arlington City. Over the numerous head-to-head match ups to follow between the team, Mungwaii would be one of the most common pieces of the budding rivalry.

Flag of Zwangzug as previously depicted by Turorian fans

Another interesting piece of the fanfare surrounding the Eagle's Cup VII Group of Eagles was the Turori National's feature article that ran during the Eagle's Cup group stage where fans were given the stopped on the street and asked to draw the flags of Turori's group mates in the VII Eagle's Cup. Then a professional designer with the Turori National would review the sketch work and come up with a composite design that represented what the Turorian people thought those flags looked like as a whole. The flag of Zwangzug (Inset) was best depicted according to the editors of the Turori National with the checker pattern in the shape of a giant Letter 'Z'. While the article made no waves in actually causing a change to the flag of Zwangzug to map public perception, there are some who argue that it did have an impact on the flag of Nephara which, at the time, did not actually depict a cormorant but now does. Heading into the final group stage match day of the 7th Eagle's Cup Competition, Turori and Zwangzug were sitting atop the Group of Eagles table with the possibility that both could advance to the next round only if Turori had could better the result of Nephara and the Nephara v. Bedistan matchup did not result in a Nepharim victory. Unfortunately for the Eels that is not how the scenario played out. A 2-2 draw with Group Leaders Zwangzug would allow Nephara, who defeated Bedistan 2-0, to top the Group and knock the Turori National Team out of the knockout rounds entirely having, to this point, having never won a match against Zwangzug in three attempts.

That would finally change during Eagle's Cup VIII when - in the only match of the tournament that the Eels went with Inland peaks FC youngster Timaala Hualtia as their goalkeeper, they came away with their biggest victory. After having conceded three goals to Zwangzug in two of their three previous meetings and 8 goals overall in those match, the Eels finally found a way to keep Zwangzug off the scoresheet to take their first ever victory over Zwangzug at home in a 3-0 result. Turori performed well in a group that also included Nephara and Cosumar but ultimately it would be Zwangzug who handed Turori its first and only defeat of the Group Stage, re-taking the upper hand in the rivalry with a 2-1 victory in Zwangzug.

At a time when the Turori National Team was struggling to decide whether it was going to commit to its Citizen National Players or its Cocoabo National Players, the Eagle's Cup often offered an extra opportunity for the citizen players to prove themselves and their worth to the National Team that the Cocoabo Squad simply were not afforded. While they never achieved amazing results in the competition during this period it still helped the Citizen Squad get extra matches and experience under their belt so they were more prepared when called upon.

While Turori's record against Zwangzug in the Eagle's Cup was relatively poor overall, they would finally get the chance to play each other in a competition other than the Eagle's Cup when drawn together during the World Cup 85 Group Stage in Farfadillis. Because the World Cup was being hosted in Farfadillis, the Turori National Team completed an extremely rare feat - winning all three of their Group Stage matches - something they have only repeated in their modern era during the current World Cup 91, also in Farfadillis. The Eels opened World Cup 85 against Zwangzug - the two sides first ever meeting at the World Cup, and Turori were fortunate to come away 2-1 winners in that match. Riding on that momentum, The 9th Eagle's Cup competition would be the Turori National Teams best showing against Zwangzug of both up to that point and in the period since. After a 2-0 victory on the opening matchday of the competition at home, the real test would come during the return leg in Zwangzug. This time - with Hualtia in net once more, Turori would hang in the game thanks to a pair of goals from Meldi'ita Mungwaii to earn a 2-2 draw and, for the first time in their history, ended an Eagle's Cup competition where they played Zwangug but did not lose to them, updating the all-time record between the sides to three wins for Turori, three for Zwangzug and two draws - an even record for the first time after many early victories for Zwangzug in the matchup.

The 10th Eagle's Cup competition would be the fourth consecutive but also most recently Eagle's Cup competition that would see Turori and Zwangzug play home and away matchups as Turori's subsequent results in World Cup 88 would push them to the Cup of Champions half of the Eagles Cup draw and out of the Eagle's Group. The two matchups during the tenth Eagle's Cup competition were the lowest scoring of the lot between the sides with each going into the other teams home stadium and stealing a 1-0 victory to keep the all-time record between them level. While the two sides were not drawn together in the group stage of Eagle's Cup XI, they would still face off in what would become the most important match ever between the two sides until, arguably, the upcoming World Cup 91 Quarter Final matchup. With Turori having won the Cup of Champions for the first time in their history and Zwangzug taking their third Cocoa-bo Challenge Trophy, the two would meet up in the Eagle's Cup Final at Eels Park in Eelandii, Turori in a matchup guaranteed to produce the first ever two-time Eagle's Cup Champion. Much like the previous meeting between the sides the match would be decided by the lone goal, scored once more by the hero Meldi'ita Mungwaii.

While it would be far from the last National Team goal scored by the veteran Zwangzug-based Turori National Team Striker - who also participated in Turori's Eagle's Cup XII Triumph hosted in Zwangzug, it would be perhaps one of the last crowning moments in the career of one of Turori's best strikers. During the World Cup 90 Cycle Mungwaii would make just one starting appearance, taking more time off and appearing mainly as a substitute. While Mungwaii has not made any started during the World Cup 91 cycle nor scored any goals during their two substitute appearances in qualifying, the attacker still provides a veteran presence on the Turori bench and could still play a part if needed in Turori's World Cup Quarter Final clash with rival Zwangzug.

by **Valanora** » Wed Jun 15, 2022 11:26 am

It is an interesting time in the sport of football inside the Eternal Empire. Star strike Lothas Ludwig is set to move clubs during the transfer window after two seasons of the Siovanija and Teusland not submitting clubs to any IVVs. Meanwhile in the Empire proper the sale of the stored and historic club of Soldarian FC is underway with at least one confirmed bid from abroad and two from within the Empire itself. Additionally the youth national team is in search of a new manager after Faeron Soldarian stepped down from position following the most recently completed Di Bradini Cup. The latter two events are tied together with Faeron marrying the Empress of the Empire. A very interesting time indeed for the sport here in the Eternal Empire.

That is not to say anything about the Marauders competing in the World Cup itself, having to fight their way into the knockouts. The loss against Tumbra on the first matchday of the group stage had initially stung quite a bit, feeling like an instance where the side had been caught out looking ahead of themselves instead of the next game. Yet as the tournament has progressed, it is looking more likely that the Marauders were just caught blindsided by a dark horse title contender that had come to the Finals with a chip on their shoulder and looking to send a message. Following their victory over new darlings and second ranked Pemecutan in the Riund of Sixteen and having a perfect World Cup so far, the message has been heard loud and clear.

The Marauders themselves were taking on the interstellar Empire of Drawkland from Sonnel. Drawkland had made it into the knockouts by virtue of upsetting teams that were looking at their rank and seeing them as an easy three points to put on the board. Unfortunately for those sides, Drawkland had come into the Finals with a point to prove that they were no walkover and did so in quite the style to end up as the group winners of a very contentious group involving Baker Park and Vilita as well as the aforementioned Pemecutan. That is by noeans an easy group to escape out of, nevermind winning it and yet they had done so as the fourth seed in the group, proving their mettle and then some.

The elephant in the room is the sheer physical differences between Vanorians and those from Drawkland. Vanorians by the by tend to be what most would call a lithe to athletic build and tend to average a height of around five feet ten inches or so. Drawkland people are renowned for being closer to seven feet tall on average and a build that is significantly more muscular than your traditional Vanorian, outside a dwarf or dragonkin. Though you will not find any of those on the roster of the Marauders, with both species mostly keeping to themselves in the hills and mountains of Arrosia. In gridiron it would andndoes cause severe disadvantages but football is a bit more forgiving and rewards teams of high technical prowess like the team from the Empire.

The two engaged one another in a clash of physical and tactical differences, with the Marauders seemingly gaining an edge through the middle. Yet the Elite Eleven were not going to make themselves an easy foe, with Roger Apollo finding an opening the Marauders backlike and firing in a shot that caught Julius flat footed and unable to react in time. It was an early lead for the underdogs but this qualifying campaign had drilled into the side the mentality of having to chase. The midfield began to squeeze on the Drawkland team but despite a flurrybof attacks before halftime, the Marauders would go in trailing. Fresh off an unexpected Premiership title, Pánfilo Veliz was playing with a lot of confidence and it took such to launch an audacious effort from the left corner of the box that curled just inside the near post for an equalizer in the fifty-seventh minute. Then it was the star man himself to win the game, Ludwig cheating down a freekick from Hawk and hitting it past the keeper on the half volley. It was a well worked move and one that was the difference between the two sides.

The Marauders now move into the pivotal Quarterfinals stage, a win here would guarantee at least two more matches and spur renewed hope in the hunt for the sixth title. Standing in opposition shall be none other than the cohost themselves, Græntfjall. The Rushmori cohost somehow made their way into the knockouts in a less than conventional fashion but got here all the same. Taking down regional giants Nephara in the first knockout round proves that although their progression was unusual it was not undeserved. Keeping Nephara off the scoresheet speaks volumes to their defensive capabilities and presents a stern challenge for the Marauders. Can the possession based attack unlock their adversaries or will the hosts use home comfort to spur themselves forward once more?

by **Farfadillis** » Wed Jun 15, 2022 12:31 pm

Farfadillis thrash undisciplined Québecois team
Unprecedented natural disaster and anti-police demonstrations throughout Farolera follow

On a very hot (more on that later) night in Farolera, Manguele's team secured a place in the quarterfinals, where they will face Brenecia, after taking advantage of a flurry of indiscipline from the Grim Reapers, who have certainly earned their nickname (more on that later).

One day after the match between Turori and Ko-oren, La Gran Avenida was set to be set on fire, figuratively, by the hosts in their round of sixteen match. The stadium itself would survive the match, but the same cannot be said of 30% of the surrounding forest, as well as officer Tristán Torrecillas and two pigs. Two more pigs, if you ask those assisting the protests that have sprung up as a result of the match.

The match itself started out very entertaining, with both sides playing their usual high-octane style of football, throwing caution to the wind and both scoring and conceding far more frequently than the average side. It took the Grim Reapers merely eleven minutes to open the score, as Ruland-based midfielder Erin Kang—booed throughout the match by the home crowd precisely because of her connections to Ruland—managed to surprise the midfield by venturing forward completely out of position, dribbling past der Efer despite her age, then firing far too precise a shot for Defigueroa to save.

Nothing changed after that: both teams kept looking to score. Farfadillis wanted to equalize, but couldn't exactly dial it up anymore, while Québec were not stupid enough to try and sit back to preserve an eleventh-minute lead against Farfadillis of all teams. Eighteen minutes after Québec's opener, la Vherderoja would equalize. A great piece of individual play from Rigozsoldos down the flank would end with a wrongful clearance by Québecois defender Chewbacca. Edmün Çídh would effortlessly chest down the ball, then fire past Middleton from the edge of the box. A brilliant goal from a brilliant player who would have a stinker of a match from there on out.

It would take Farfadillis only four minutes to then take the lead themselves, as Ígnîgo Çí Xôrí would copy Erin Kang's goal from earlier by surprising the Grim Reapers with an incisive run, but he would dribble past the goalkeeper instead. And yes, both teams were defending badly enough that this sort of thing could reasonably happen.

The first half ended with both teams wasting a couple more clear-cut chances. All in all, the first half had been nothing out of the ordinary, at least when taking into account both teams' styles of play. Any neutral who knew the slightest thing about football was expecting a similarly exciting second half... they were, arguably, very, very wrong.

The second half would start where the first half had ended, with both teams trading blows and any result looking plausible. Eventually, twenty-one minutes into the second half, the Grim Reapers would equalize, thanks to none other than S-FPL star Kate Huitema-Omeasoo. With the Farf defense in typical disarray, she dribbled past Izotzubia and der Efer before smashing the ball top bins. Simply put, one of the best goals of the tournament.

After the equalizer, for a few minutes, the Grim Reapers took complete control of the match. In just the two minutes after the goal, they forced Defigueroa to pull off three magnificent saves. Alas, manager Lele Manguele would have an unorthodox trick up his sleeve. Cameras filmed him uttering the following words: “Release the hogs.”

Within thirty seconds of the Ferdullaelan manager giving those instructions to a person that nobody saw and for whom there is now a hefty sum for his capture, dead or alive, no fewer than five pigs entered the pitch. They were marked 1, 2, 3, 4 and 6 but nobody fell for the trick because we've all heard the joke by now. Also, you can very easily count the number of pigs by just taking a look at the whole pitch. Anyway: what was clearly meant as a silly distraction to wind the game down as the Québecois were starting to look like the better team soon turned into a literal historical event.

Marco Hertel, presumably annoyed by the pigs, quickly ran to the bench to grab a shotgun, then promptly dispatched two pigs. The referee technically didn't get the chance to send him off, as the police present arrested him and took him off the pitch themselves, but not before he could make short work of Tristán Torrecillas—off-camera, thankfully.

After a wild eight minutes, the game restarted, with the Farves now looking far more on point, especially with the one-man advantage. In the seventy-ninth minute, a through ball from Eslejes Aljojí found a generous Vâásk Çêwé, who passed the ball sideways to an incoming Édmün Çídh. The elder Çídh fired off a strong shot, but it was not particularly well-placed. Nonetheless, Middleton gave up a rebound and the younger Çídh was there to coolly slot it in. Playing against ten men, leading and at home, there was little that could go wrong for the Farves, and a lot that could go wrong for the Québecois.

Perhaps disturbed by the pig incident, the Grim Reapers completely lost control of the game after that. Just three minutes after Röémün Çídh's goal, Alxíkí made his way into the Québecois box and got tripped down by a desperate Chewbacca. The defender was then correctly sent off and a penalty was awarded. The Grim Reapers surrounded the referee to protest the decision, while La Gran Avenida's surroundings started noticeably catching fire. The fire spread fast, and by the time the Québecois players had calmed down the players were already under scorching heat. Thankfully, our generous President-for-life Alex Terán had recently remodeled La Gran Avenida to be fireproof, so there were no casualties among the fans inside the stadium. The government has offered no information as for the fans immediately outside it, so we can only assume they made it out alive as well.

Holding a two-goal, two-man lead, it was clear who would win on the night. For good measure, however, as the forest fire expanded and only increased the temperature, Kate Middleton tripped Eötrenois Rigozsoldos inside the box on a counterattack. Once again, Edmün Çídh took the penalty, and he once again took it terribly. Devlyn Harris, who'd gone from left-back to goalkeeper as her team had already wasted all substitutions, managed to heroically save the penalty. However, Röémün Çídh got to the rebound first and increased the lead once again. The game was now 5-2, but there was still time for more.

When the clock finally hit ninety minutes, the referee displayed absolutely no mercy by (correctly) giving fifteen minutes of injury time. With the Grim Reapers low on morale, tired but valiantly insisting on attacking in search of three goals that would never come, la Vherderoja managed to add a further two goals to the tally, with Çí Xôrí securing a brace on a counterattack and Röémün Çídh getting his second hat-trick this World Cup thanks to a brilliant shot from afar in the twelfth minute of injury time, which was really only insult to injury.

In the aftermath of the match, owing to the symbolism of Hertel killing two pigs and then a police officer, anti-police protests sprang up throughout the nation. Within two hours, Ministro del Interior Paco Cerdeño had already managed to survive three attempts on his life. This is an ongoing story for which we are giving live updates on another article.

As for the forest fire, it continues to ravage the country, with the economic damages potentially big enough to bring the wood-industry-dependent Faroleran industry to a screeching halt. This, too, is an ongoing story for which we are giving live updates on another article.

TODAY'S TOP STORIES
1: Québecois footballer Marco Hertel becomes symbol of Faroleran resistance
2: Visiting in-laws? No need to worry! Three great recipes that will make them love you
3: Faroleran forest fire: Live Updates
4: All three S-FPL Rulandese clubs reportedly interested in signing Marco Hertel ‘to spite Faroleran authorities’
5: Faroleran anti-police protests: Live Updates

by **Brenecia** » Wed Jun 15, 2022 1:19 pm

Comes a point in a game where momentum swings one way and doesn't feel like it can ever be taken back.
Brenecia thought they'd reached that forty minutes in. Two headers, both well-taken; the Patriots were just larger and stronger than the Mekahi and were using it to good advantage, bullying the team all over the place. And in Lienke Covolan, they had someone who could put a cross or a corner right where it needed to go. But it had been a strong half in general, this was no snatch and grab. The margin was deserved. Surely, then, they'd simply ride it to the end of the game... ?
An hour later, Brenecia were clinging to life, and only barely at that.

Kandorith had come out of the blocks hard and fast, taking a shot just twelve seconds after kick-off - Brenecia's kickoff, a slack pass from Lofthouse cut out by Yamakawa and blazed over the bar.
Brenecian fans played it off as desperation. It wasn't. Kandorith dominated the second half, swarming Brenecia all over the pitch, pinning them back in their own half. The Patriots resisted gamely, hurling bodies in the way of shots, but it wasn't long before it became clear that either a goal was going to come, or Kandorith were going to get properly Football Managered. Thoughts of a Brenecian third that would surely clinch it just didn't register with anyone watching the game, with attacking play reduced to hoofing the ball at Lofthouse - who earned a second caution of the tournament for nearly decapitating Tsuchiya with a flying elbow, ruling her out of the next round. If they got that far.
When it came, it came in a pair. The bold call of a bombing long cross from the fullback Mayeda drifted over all blue shirts; Tanner tried to come out, got caught in no man's land and was helpless when Oshita cushioned the ball effortlessly and drove it into the unguarded net. And the second? Kanaga, the other winger - a fresh substitute - coming on, scything through Lovibond and testing his luck with a low, drilled shot. Tanner saw it late, and couldn't quite reach the bottom corner, fingertips brushing the ball as it skidded beyond her.
And now, suddenly, it seemed inconceivable Kandorith would not win. Even as Tanner atoned with an ugly but effective half-crouched fingertip save to deny the substitute Honda scoring from his first touch at close range, even as Oshita buried what he thought was a second only to be caught well offside. Even as Brenecia mounted a sudden, desperate late surge, Wake going on a gut-busting run, cutting inside... it seemed inevitable he'd drag his shot wide, and so he did.
So they entered extra time and every neutral knew, just knew, Kandorith were going to win. They were the better attacking side. They were the favourites. They were younger, fitter, and fresher, and it didn't take long for Honda to drive home a third for Kandorith.
Twenty-five minutes left. Do-or-die. And what a pity it would be to go out like this, even if this was the weakest Patriots vintage in ages, even if this second round was, already, a victory by every measure.
They conjured something.
It was Iseult Conway who delivered the decisive blow. Arriving late in the box, a sudden extra man, too many blue shirts for the white shirts to track, a cutback from the effervescent, exhausted Byrne finding her as she arrived. It wasn't a pretty shot, but it was an effective one, bobbling slowly and horribly into the inside netting, past the desperate clawing grasp of Maruyama.
So it was, then, to penalties. Both sides exhausted, physically and mentally. Athelney Shrine won the boss, and they would go first, though in front of where the Kandorese fans were thickest.

Kendra Carpenter, aging by the standards of mayfly wingers but more dignified than ever, stepped up first, fresh and confident. She drove hers low and hard into the bottom corner, unsavable.
Honda, fresh and high in confidence, sent Tanner the wrong way. The Southern Star goalkeeper grunted and kvetched as she picked herself up. Not a great sign.
Siobhan Baker, another substitute, a late bolter into the squad. She had accomplished little since coming on, though her one snap-shot in extra time had almost found its way past Maruyama and made her a hero regardless. She stuck her penalty poorly, at a comfortable height... but Maruyama went the wrong way. A sigh of relief. 2-1.
Hamada, the first taker to have actually started the match. Tanner guessed right, but the strike was leathered beyond her. 2-2.
Clovette Bravender, veteran of over a hundred caps. A clean striker of the ball. And yet another substitute. A perfect candidate, in paper, and the rightback did strike it clean... only far too close to the middle. Maruyama fell to a knee, readjusted his weight at the last moment and punched it away with both fists. Oshita made no such error; 2-3.
Conway stepped up, dripping sweat. Hers was a tired penalty, rather chipped like a dubious panenka, but it scraped past the goalkeeper anyway. She tried to rouse herself, applaud the boys, but hers was the body language of someone who knew that Kuronuma could - and did - make it 3-4.
Up stepped Katua Byrne. Brenecia's star had only missed 11 minutes all tournament, and she took a long time to steady herself. But her penalty was nerveless, drilled past Maruyama; she would feel no guilt. 4-4.
Kanaga stepped up, another goalscorer, another substitute. Sorcha Tanner puffed out her cheeks. Scanned his face for clues, and found to her chagrin there were none to be found. Fuck it, she thought; she'd leap left regardless, as far as she could.
The ball flew past her.
It clanked.
Tanner celebrated like she'd done something. The fans celebrated like Brenecia had won. The referee, eventually, reminded them they had to actually pick someone to go next, and it was clear nobody had thought that far. Briggs stepped up, though, and drove hers low and hard; Ishibashi sent Tanner the wrong way. Emotions flattened again. 5-5.
Garrard went for pure power, and it could so easily have gone over the bar... but it snuck inside, rolled in across the ceiling of the goal. And suddenly, Brenecians felt confident. A 19-year old centre-back stepping up next for Kandorith? One who had played the whole game, been run ragged at points? Surely he couldn't stick it in? Oh. 6-6. This was getting ridiculous.
By now they were reaching the dregs, and Casey Giltanan's penalty reflected this. Thumped far too comfortably and telegraphed far too clearly, it was no great feat for Maruyama to spring across and claw it away. Asato's took the other approach; hesitant and weak. Tanner waited late and was not punished, able to stretch across and hook it clear with a foot. 6-6, still.
Ophelia Haywood stepped up next. She wasn't meant to be at the World Cup, but Mynah Seeler was injured. She wasn't meant to be starting, but... Nimue Culpepper was injured. She had been a fairly good A-League fullback and made the successful gamble that the Tumbran league would rise to eclipse it, but she wouldn't see her 20s again. Nevertheless, she struck her penalty true, with just enough pace and height to take it out of the reach of Maruyama.
The occasion got to Tanji. It was an anticlimax, in the end, the young fullback screwing his shot wide, Tanner hurling herself the right way and skidding to the edge of the goalline as she watched it pass, grinning madly before her limbs tangled each other and she ended on the floor, just as her teammates ran to jump all over her...
Hadn't been pretty. But they were in the quarterfinals, and Brenecia were never going to feel confident enough to turn their noses up at that.

It had not been a vintage game from Sorcha Tanner, but still; she'd thought she'd done enough to be considered a hero. And she was, at home. Penalty saves lingered in the mind, even if she'd only actually made one, and understandably so. It had been a vintage game for Iseult Conway, the best of her Patriots career. Even in that terrible second half, she was out there putting out fires.
So Derdriu Wright knew, dropping them for the game against Farfadillis to come, that if this went wrong, there would be hell to pay...

Brenecia 2 - 2 Kandorith (3-3 AET, 7-6 pens)
(4-3-3) 12 - Tanner; 17 - Lovibond (2 - Bravender 73'), 5 - Shrine (c), 6 - Giltanan, 3 - Haywood; 8 - Conway, 4 - Briggs, 11 - Covolan (13 - Garrard 68'); 15 - Wake (7 - Carpenter FT), 21 - Lofthouse (9 - Baker 86'), 10 - Byrne
BRE: Lofthouse 17', Shrine 39', Conway 114'
Carpenter ✔ Baker ✔ Bravender - Conway ✔ Byrne ✔ Briggs ✔ Garrard ✔ Giltanan - Haywood ✔

KND: Oshita 58', Kanaga 63', Honda 95'
Honda ✔ Hamada ✔ Oshita ✔ Kuronuma ✔ Kanaga - Ishibashi ✔ Tsuchiya ✔ Asato - Tanji -

Maruyama
Asato / Tsuchiya / Omoro / Tanji
Hamada / Ishibashi / Koronuma
Oshita / Honda / Kanaga

Suspensions: Lofthouse
Injuries: Culpepper (heel)

Lineup vs. Farfadillis:
(4-2-3-1) 20 - Dundalk; 17 - Lovibond, 18 - Killen, 5 - Shrine, 3 - Haywood; 19 - Mikoliunas, 4 - Briggs; 15 - Wake, 11 - Covolan, 10 - Byrne; 9 - Baker

by **Alasdair I Frosticus** » Wed Jun 15, 2022 1:45 pm

A STATEMENT FROM THE HOLY EMPIRE FOOTBALL ASSOCIATION

The Holy Empire Football Association wishes to protest in the strongest possible terms the base slander and lies emanating from Tumbra sources. We appreciate that the Tumbrans may still feel resentful over their defeat in the previous World Cup, but this is no excuse for the extraordinary untruths that they are attempting to promote.

Let's first deal with the frankly insulting claim that the current squad's admittedly unanticipated medical circumstances are the result of 'prosthetics' and 'lurid plastic surgery'. This shows an astonishing lack of sensitivity towards disability awareness. We can only assume that Tumbra is a country utterly devoid of equality legislation that would recognise the need for inclusion of those with specific accessibility needs. While the Dreamed Realm is above such petty considerations, this shocking lack of sensitivity will no doubt give pause to all civilised nations in Ordinary Reality, and cause them to re-evaluate their relationships with Tumbra.

We would next like to address the shocking assertions that 'this time ... the Empire have put out a team of something is terribly wrong' and 'Tumbran parents have reported their kids crying after unpacking stickers containing the Holy Empire's team in the little football albums, claiming something is terribly wrong'. If this is an accurate reflection of Tumbran attitudes towards the Holy Empire - and we stress that we have been unable to gauge the opinions of ordinary Tumbrans on this important matter, instead being forced to rely on these media reports - then we can only assume that citizens of Tumbra are close-minded towards inclusion issues, and actively deny equality and diversity within their nation. At the end of the day, who doesn't have a friend with three extra heads, a family member with an extra torso or two, or a colleague with a leg growing out of their heads? That the Tumbrans would attempt to claim that there's something 'terribly wrong' about these perfectly normal and in no way unusual physical features says more, we venture to suggest, about the priorities of the Tumbran government than it does about the Holy Empire. We are sure that all fair-minded football supporters across the multiverse join us in condemning this petty bigotry.

We would close by noting the bizarre obsession of some Tumbrans with the ... features ... of substitute midfielder Andronicus Cantucazeno. Mr Cantucazeno is an entirely innocent party who never asked for his new body parts, and who suffers from considerable shame and embarrassment on an almost daily basis from what we would simply refer to as unanticipated blood flow causing additional prominence of his new body parts. It's bad enough that small-minded mundy nations censor this phenomenon when it does occur, blocking out Mr Cantucazeno from appearing on their screens when this passing phenomenon occurs. This is discriminatory, but at least can be put down to the inevitable range of cultural values that impact how these things are shown. It's quite another thing, however, that the Tumbrans should choose to emphasise the extent to which they're driven by base lust and strange, unnatural perversions that they would draw attention to ordinary body parts that 50% (or thereabouts) of the mundy population live with on a daily basis. Upon reading the Tumbran reports, Mr Cantucazeno locked himself into our training ground dressing room, and refused to come out again until he had been reassured that his additional body parts could have happened to anybody, and that the entire team stood by his efforts to overcome the scandalous and wholly unexpected mockery being produced by Tumbran media.

We stress that we have nothing but respect for our forthcoming opponents on the Tumbran national team, and wish them nothing but the best (and a 3-1 loss) in our upcoming football match, but we also feel we have no choice but to call out the bigotry and shameful opposition to equality, diversity, and inclusion being shown by their national media.

We hope that all right-thinking mundies will join us in condemning the painful, insulting, and derogatory messaging of the Tumbran media.

Yours,

The Holy Empire Football Association

by **Graintfjall** » Wed Jun 15, 2022 4:37 pm

Howl! Hey kids! Did you know that over 3500 teams have appeared in World Cup qualifying over the years? That's a big number! Howl!

QF cutoff

Results

by **Graintfjall** » Wed Jun 15, 2022 7:06 pm

Græntfjall – 1 (1)
Björnólfur; Alyssia, Grímúlfur (66’ Eyvar ), Hjörleifur (71’), Emeli; Tinni (81’); Vanessa, Amanda (71’ Valtter ), Sara; Kæja (16’); Röskvi (45’ Jason (71’))

Nephara – 0 (0)
Clevinger (52’), Scales (87’)

A free-flowing exhibition of attacking football; less a knockout round, more of a celebration of the beautiful game; finally decided by one team’s superior offensive genius on the ball; a competitive match, but one between two ultimately friendly rivals, able to leave the pitch in good spirits after a sporting and fair game.

Anyway enough about Tumbra v Pemecutan, let’s check in on the Græntfjall v Nephara game…

“That was never a foul, are you blind, ref?”

“Oof, me ankle.”

“Leave it out, Tinni, she’s not worth it!”

“Get off me you big fucking half-troll!”

“Oof, me kidneys.”

“Are you blind, ref? Are you actually blind? He had both arms around my neck!?”

“Have that you jumped up…” “Ha! Offside! You were saying?”

“**** you.” “Oh yeah? **** you!” “****you!” “**** ****ing you!” “**** you!” “**** off before I cut off your head and **** down your neck.” “Well that was jolly uncalled for, old bean.”

“Does it ever stop raining in this shithole?”

“Oof, me sternal plexus.”

“You are literally blind, aren’t you? You’ve left your stick and guide dog back in the changing room at half-time, haven’t you? The laser surgery didn’t work, did it?”

“Oh no, it’s OK, not like I was using this kneecap anyway.”

“Just give me back the ball? Are you literally hiding it up your shirt, you child?”

“Oof, me scapula.”

“What are the tuneless twats singing now?” “‘Stand up if you hate Reniira Clevinger’.” “We play for the same damn team, you thick berk.”

“Help me… get him… off me! Gah! How much do you weigh, you fat lump?”

“There are fish hat have spent their entire lives living a mile under sea in black caves that have a better sense of sight than you do!”

“So after we’re done playing in this muddy slagheap, the actual game pitch is where, exactly?”

“Oof, me appendix.”

“You ****. You ***ing ****. You absolute ****ing ****ing son of a ****ing ****. I hope you ****ing die of a **** ****ing you in your ****ing ****hole you ****ing ****head ****. Get the ****ing **** out of my ****ing face before I **** all over your ****.” “OK, can I stop you there, Madam Prime Minister? Your language, is atrocious.”

“No, I’m serious, because I’m a big supporter of disability rights. I think it’s tremendous social progress that we’ve appointed someone who’s lost the power of sight to referee a World Cup Round of 16. Bra-flippin’-vo.”

Some blamed long simmering geopolitical tensions stirred up by Nephara’s support of the KPWC regime in Nyowani Kitara’s civil war. Some pointed to the exceptionally strong strain of republicanism in Nepharim political thought at fairly violent odds with the ingrained monarchism of Græntfjall that had survived eighty years of communist suppression and exile. Some just thought the Snow Wolves were absolutely sick of losing to the Cormorants of Round of 16 games after all this time.

Whatever precipitated it – and precipitation, in the form of about as much rain as could humanly fall in 90 minutes being dumped on the ground during the game courtesy of a rolling thunderstorm that must have left many residents of Hofvinger fearing the Bollonischian artillery were back – Græntfjall’s greatest ever World Cup victory, their first ever in a knockout round of a World Cup finals, and against no lesser a team than Nephara, will go in the history books for the outcome, but not for the quality of football. On a pitch that mud wrestlers would have deemed unfit for competition, with a sufficiently strong cross-wind that an Emeli Vilbertsdóttir throw-in ended up in the stands, the two teams hacked and butchered their way to a grim conclusion.

A 1–0 win is meant to be decided by a late thriller, perhaps a substitute coming on and finally proving their worth, or a tiring hero managing one last effort before falling to their knees victorious. Instead, here the lone goal came barely a quarter of an hour into the game, and was no particularly special moment: Kæja Finnvarðsdóttir finessed a nice pass from Amanda Guttisdóttir, span a turn that wrong-footed Cassander Southsea, faked a through-ball to Röskvi Tyrfingsson and fired off a hard but not spectacular shot that Arenea Provost couldn’t quite reach, high to her left. Græntfjall’s diminutive number 10 looked as surprised by the goal as she was pleased.

Both teams had their chances to make a more entertaining scoreline out of it. Lindse Kvasina found herself with time and space to line up her shot when Björnólfur Ernestisson let go the slippery ball after charging out to corral a corner; assuming she was aiming for Row 16 in the stands, Kvasina hit her mark with precision. Felix Vetive nearly set things on fire barely 90 seconds in the second half, stretching to poke home a Kvasina cross, but the flag was raised. Jason Þórhallursson, who fought a heavyweight bout with Anaximander Scales over the second 45 minutes (or rather 42 minutes, whereupon one last chirp from the mouthy striker proved too much for the center half, who lashed out, seeing red, in every sense) did manage to get free a couple of times, but his header found Provost’s midriff and his backheeled flick was such a clever bit of improvisation that aiming it remotely at the goal would have been entirely too big-brained.

Vanessa Marvinsdóttir, small, flighty, and elegant, opted for a power blast when confronted with an open goal as Jason, despite his goal drought, unselfishly and intelligently drew in two defenders then flicked a header over to her. She, equally unselfishly, though somewhat less intelligently, declined to score, settling for taking out one of the ball-girls. A surging leap from a corner saw Hjörleifur Reynarsson reach the ball first; his header thudded off the cross-bar. An inspirational moment from a captain barely capable of walking at this point, much less outjumping younger men. But inspiration doesn’t add to the scoreboard. Kvasina shot, again, and missed, again. Alyssia Noahsdóttir tried to clarify the ongoing doubts about her selection by scoring an own-goal, but was too inept to get even that on target.

When Tinni Grímólfursson smashed a long free-kick that whipped past the post, Græntfjall clearly decided it was not a good day to die, and gave up on trying to score. Bringing on Valtter Marvinsson as an extra defensive midfielder was a throwback to the old days. Þórhallursson less a striker now and more a power forward. Only the mud obscuring the field of view could have explained the general absence of discipline. Finally Vetiver, joined up front now by the impressively named Bravura Harper, worked a deft 1–2 to go through on goal. The tackle from Reynarsson, sliding in like a man who wasn’t, say, in crippling agony every waking moment of his life, was probably the first moment the Snow Wolf Pack started to believe. But it was still out for a corner.

Kvasina’s corner found, unexpectedly, that most integral of Nepharan offensive forces… right back August Kovacs. He’d never scored before, but it was him the ball fell to with Vetiver swarmed by defenders, March and Reed unable to escape their markers, and Harper and Björnólfur Ernestisson appearing to be engaging in an unnatural act in the goalmouth. He controlled it, took aim, and let fire with a powerful drive. In came Tinni Grímólfursson, bravely putting it all on the line. And it really was all, as he blocked the shot with an unspeakable part of his anatomy. The ball rolled away from his corpse to be hacked wildly upfield by Eyvar Mathiasson, and Þórhallursson had to wear Clevinger like a shirt as he took it up to the corner and withstood her attempts to win the ball back and murder him in cold blood, not clearly in that order, until the shrill whistle blasted.

“Good game, good game.”

“Oh **** off.”

by **Farfadillis** » Wed Jun 15, 2022 7:17 pm

Cut-off. Who will die?

by **Drawkland** » Wed Jun 15, 2022 11:48 pm

E N D L E S S . . .

The gunshot caught the attention of everybody. Nicole, Cam, and Sarah all turned around right before they got to the tunnel entrance at the end of the bridge. Andrew and Liam, who'd just hit the deck to avoid the lunging serpent, also whipped around to see what the noise was. Most importantly, the huge serpent itself stopped what it was doing and turned to see Katie Madison.

"I hope you have some sort of trick up your sleeve," Jaxon said, holding his sword out defensively, despite knowing it wasn't going to do a damn thing about the creature from a position like this.

"Maybe one more," Katie breathed, coolly setting in her firing stance, aiming directly at the serpent's face. The serpent shifted in its position, pulling its neck higher, preparing to lunge again. Katie found her target and fired two shots. The first shot ricocheted off the scales on the serpent's face, but the second shot a split second later found its mark: one of the snake's left three eyes.

The serpent immediately started flailing about, clearly not used to receiving a painful blow such as this. It gave Katie and Jaxon just enough time to rejoin the others.

"Nice shooting," Jaxon huffed in between breaths as they sprinted across to the bridge on which the others were still standing.

"Let's hope it buys us enough time," Katie watched as the serpent started to calm down and attempt to collect itself.

Nicole, Cam, and Sarah arrived right at the serpent's midsection laid across the bridge as Katie and Jaxon were arriving as well. Andrew and Liam were trying to get around or under the snake's body so they could get out of the chamber.

"What are we gonna do? It's gonna come back any second!" Nicole yelled over to Jaxon.

"I'm going to climb on its back and see if I can make it up to the head!" Jaxon replied, raising his sword up so it can be seen. "This thing is enchanted, I should be able to breach the scales. You guys get out of here while there's still time!"

He didn't have to tell anyone twice. As Jaxon hopped on the side of the bridge and climbed on top of the snake's body, the rest clambered over and started racing to the door. Jaxon steadied himself, and started running in a crouched position along the spine of the serpent.

The beast had temporarily gotten over the pain in its face, and was looking around to find its assailant. It could vaguely feel something on its midsection, something ticking along its spine. It was a little difficult, getting used to having one fewer eye, but it could make out a figure scuttling on its back. Was that the creature that harmed it? A quick taste of the air indicated it was not the case. Well, perhaps this one could be a sufficient substitute. It cocked its head again, elevating by the neck, forcing Jaxon to stop running and hang on for dear life as the part of the body he was traversing went vertical.

"We have to help him!" Katie had turned around to watch Jaxon's progress. "He's not gonna kill it if it's aiming for him."

"He's immortal!" Nicole shot back. "He can handle himself. He's distracting it so we can save ourselves."

"What if we need him?" Katie replied, and she slowed to a stop. "I'm going to distract it. You guys go on."

"I'm not leaving without you." Cam turned and stopped running. "We can't get singled out again."

"We can't all stay!" Nicole yelled. "It's defeating the purpose of him even fighting it!"

"Then you go," Katie said coldly. "Lead them on, and we'll catch up. Don't you worry about us."

"Fine." Nicole didn't like that answer, but she knew she couldn't waste a single additional second. She nodded to Andrew and Liam, who helped her carry Sarah out of the chamber. Just like that, Cam and Katie were the only ones in the creature's chamber with Jaxon.

"Let's try this again," Katie pulled out her gun yet again, and fired another few shots into the air.

The serpent immediately whipped its head around, losing its focus on Jaxon. That noise, yes, that was the same noise the prey made right before it was injured. That must be the one that caused the pain. It flattened its head, remaining close to the water, making its head a less prominent target. It wasn't really paying attention to Jaxon now, who was taking advantage of the lower angle to run closer to the head.

As the serpent started slithering closer to Katie, something resembling a thought shot through its mind. These tiny, delicious-smelling snack creatures had injured it from a distance, first by some barrier and the second by some projectile. Obviously it couldn't get too close.

Fortunately, the serpent had a weapon at its disposal for this sort of situation. As it slithered ever closer, it opened its gaping maw, revealing the horrifying amount of teeth. Unbeknownst to Katie, it was also priming the glands on the roof of its mouth.

"Big teeth! Run!" Cam exclaimed, seeing Jaxon was making sufficient progress before bolting towards the exit.

"We agree on something!" Katie quipped, taking off a second later while still looking back to watch the creature getting ever closer.

The serpent saw its prey was trying to escape, so it had to act now. It raised its head one more time, and fired a blast of liquid from its mouth directly at Katie. The liquid shot out in a stream, and landed directly on Katie. The beast had hit its mark. Katie immediately screamed, because it felt like her entire skin had just been set on fire.

Jaxon got to the back of its skull a moment too late. He saw the blow, but before he could worry about it, he had to finish his task. He raised his sword, internally prayed it would work, and plunged the blade directly through the top of the serpent's skull. The creature flailed out once but went limp. Jaxon had just enough time to remove his sword and jump onto a bridge before the creature slipped beneath the waves. He ran over to where Katie was laying, just as Cam did the same.

Katie was still writhing and wailing in pain on the ground. Whatever venom the serpent shot out must've been some type of acidic. Her skin almost looked like it was bubbling.

"It'd dead, Katie." Jaxon almost instinctively asked if she was okay, but it was clearly not the case. "You don't have to worry about it now."

"I've got ... a lot more ... to worry about here," Katie strained for every word.

"I've got burn cream in my bag. Would that help?" Cam asked quickly. She had never liked Katie, but seeing her in such abject pain was still really difficult.

"I'm not sure anything will help," Jaxon murmured so Katie couldn't hear. "Let's try it, though."

Cam obliged, and quickly produced a green plastic tube from a backpack pocket. She shook it up, and squirted some on both her hands and Jaxon's. Together, they carefully and lightly put a layer of the stuff on Katie's skin.

Katie was clearly still in immense pain, but she felt slightly better, enough to sit up and not involuntarily groan every few seconds.

"This is ... horrible." Katie dropped her head back to lay against the side of the stone bridge, looking with sightless eyes at the ceiling of the chamber.

"Don't worry, I'm here for you." Jaxon put his arm on Katie's shoulder where her shirt was, as to not touch her skin. Slightly quieter, he turned back to Cam. "You go and catch up with the others. I will catch up with you all once she's gotten better."

Cam was skeptical that Katie was getting better, but she nodded. She opened her mouth to say something else, her eyes lingering in Jaxon's gaze, but she turned and left without saying anything, dashing to the exit where the others had already gone.

"You think I'm gonna be okay?" Katie asked, voice cracking over the final couple words. "I really don't feel okay."

"You'll be fine soon, one way or another. I'll be here with you no matter what."

"Augh!" Katie was overcome with another wave of agony. She hesitated for a few moments, then spoke again. "I'm going to die, aren't I?"

"I don't know." Jaxon couldn't get himself to say anything definitive. He didn't want to be right. "I don't know what this thing's venom does."

"Why did this happen?" Katie asked. Tears were starting to form in her eyes. "I thought I did everything good. I thought I was prepared. I thought putting myself in danger was the right thing to do."

"That's what I was doing." Jaxon wasn't usually a crier, but after the Allison incident and this, he could feel the pressure mounting in his throat and eyes. "You should've left. I would've found my way back."

"I ... I didn't want to leave you." Katie tried to focus her eyes on Jaxon, to some success. "I don't know why. I just felt it."

"You should've thought twice. I was trying to help you."

"I couldn't go."

"Katie ..." Jaxon started, but he stopped himself. He took a few deep breaths, but ultimately kept talking. "I have something to tell you."

"What?" She breathed.

"The ancestor you were talking about earlier. That person was me." Jaxon squeezed her shoulder a bit.

"W-what? How?" Katie was already starting to feel delirious from whatever the venom was doing to her, but this was even more jarring.

"Your father's dream? That was my dream." Jaxon continued. "Over the years, I forged the Madison family into what it is. Very few of them ever went into sport, and fewer still succeeded. Eventually, due to my immortality, I had to hide myself from the future generations. I was still in their lives, though, as a friend or a coworker or other sort of colleague. It took years, years to get to this point. By the time your grandfather was born, I had almost given up on the idea. Your father though, he inspired me to try one more time.

"He took after sports as a young age. Like you know, he played basketball and football, even baseball before college, but he never went pro. Still, his love for the games never wavered, and he tried to be a coach or broadcaster. It was then that I "met" him for the first time, when he was a low-level coordinator at Sadeg State. We became friends, and one day when we got drunk together at a party I accidentally let out my idea for having a family full of athletes. I thought he'd forget about it, but he took those words to heart that night.

"Honestly, he was not a very good coach, and you know that's when he switched to broadcasting. He couldn't hold down a job long enough, he was just not good enough of a commentator to make the cut. Still, he got his second, third, fourth, and more chances. It was me. I've had influence in many teams, and I pulled enough strings to keep him around. I just felt like it was the right thing to do. Finally, I had a great-great-whatever-grandson that cared about sport as much as I did. I wanted to give back to him secretly to show my appreciation.

"Finally, he stuck at the Drawk Corps. That's where he took the Madison family to the next level, just like I had always envisioned. I never expected it from him, but apparently my words from that party so many years ago really resonated with him. That's why your family is the way that it is today."

"How ... how am I supposed to respond to this?" Katie asked, still suffering on the ground and barely registering what Jaxon was saying.

"I want to apologize." Jaxon looked back at Katie's eyes. For most of his monologue he'd been staring into space. "You told me about how you and your siblings were treated. I had expected that your dad was hard on you when training but I hoped that you guys would still love each other, like a real family. But you don't. Your siblings mistrust you, they rarely talk to your parents or each other. What I envisioned was a happy family, a loving one, one that stuck together and succeeded together. Instead, what I influenced and brought into this world was one of dysfunction, infighting, and envy. I failed."

"No," Katie replied weakly. "I told you earlier, I wouldn't have it any other way. I like what I have now. Maybe my siblings would feel different, but I'm not them."

"I still have to apologize to you," Jaxon insisted. "It's my fault you're in this mess, twofold. If I'd never let your father turn into the sporting patriarch he is, you would've never become what you are now. You wouldn't have gone on this stupid quest. The only reason this quest is happening is my fault, too. I told Nicole she had to break up with Mike, but instead she chose this option, and you ended up along for the ride. You shouldn't be here. It's my fault that you're here and ... well ..."

"It's okay, really." Katie's voice was starting to become strained. Over the past few minutes, her skin had started to turn a sickly yellow color. "I told you, I wouldn't want it any other way. This is who I am, and I like it. Liked it."

"Don't say that," Jaxon choked out, face twisting in a grimace. The tears were definitely coming.

"I can feel it coming." Katie's head almost looked limp against the bridge, and she rolled it over to look back at Jaxon. The whites of her eyes were starting to turn a pale yellow as well. "I wouldn't have made it this far without you. Thank you."

"I'm so sorry. God, I am so, so sorry." Jaxon leaned forward and hugged her. "Nobody should have to die like this. I shouldn't have come here. I shouldn't have let anybody do this."

"Jaxon ..." Katie breathed. Jaxon pulled back from the hug to look back in Katie's eyes, but they had gone out of focus. He noticed her arms had gone limp, and her skin grew even paler than it had been.

"Katie?" Jaxon's quiet voice echoed through the chamber. He touched her face with his hand, and it felt cold. "Katie ..."

The Grid Corps guys sat in the cavern tunnel for a long time. After Riley had cut himself loose, Leo was able to pull Jack up from the ledge with his remaining strength, and the two laid out on the ground. Both of them mourned their friend, Jack longer than Leo. No words were said, until Leo slowly got up to his knees.

"We should go." Leo shook Jack, who was laying facedown on the ground. "There will be time to mourn Riley later, and we can't stay here much longer."

"It hurts," is all Jack could get out. Regardless, after a couple seconds, he pushed himself to his knees, and eventually to his feet.

The pair walked in silence. The cave seemed to be giving off some light. In the distance there was even a faint green glow. The boys didn't exchange words. They gave each other a glance, nodded, and walked towards it.

As soon as Cam and Katie decided to stay back, the rest booked it out of the chamber and back into the maze tunnels. Nicole was leading the way with Andrew alongside her. Together, they were holding up Sarah and allowing her to just walk along with her one good leg. Liam was taking up the rear, just a step behind the others.

"Where are we going?" Andrew asked. He was worried about the three they'd left behind in the chamber, but he figured now was not the time to think about that.

"I don't know," Nicole answered. "I just have a feeling. Something is drawing me closer, I feel like it's the center of the maze."

"How do you know it's not some trap?" Sarah asked, cynically. Her bad leg bumped against a small bump in the path and she cringed as the pain shot up her body.

"It feels ... good. Like energy, like life. I dunno how to explain it. Jaxon said it might be residual feelings from that magic blast I did. Maybe it's the charm Kanyo gave me that's helping out."

"What charm?" Andrew asked, becoming increasingly alienated. He didn't know anything about Drawkian magic, though he had purchased some books about basic arcane theory last time he was in Drawkland. He hadn't gotten around to reading them, though.

"It's a lot to explain. I'll talk about it some other time. I'm trying to concentrate right now."

"But how are Cam and Katie going to find us?" Liam asked, still looking over his shoulder to see if anybody was following behind them.

"I think I'm leaving a trail. I'm not sure." Nicole raised her hand, and showed that it was giving off a faint green vapor. "I'm hoping this works."

Cam Cross had left the chamber, against her better judgement. She didn't want to leave Jaxon or Katie there, but it was clear that Jaxon wanted Cam to leave. That, or he was just being pragmatic and didn't want Cam to fall too far behind the others. Was he doing that for her own sake? Did he not care about her and just wanted her to leave so he could be alone with her? What were they talking about? Was she going to be okay? Was he?

These questions were whirling through Cam's mind at a thousand miles an hour, in addition to the images of Katie suffering that were now firmly planted in Cam's mind. She was probably going to be having a couple very long sessions with her therapist if she got back. That didn't matter right now, though, what did matter is catching up to Nicole and the rest of the crew.

As Cam went down the path, she started to notice a very faint feeling. When she approached a fork, indecisive on which path to take, she could almost feel which way Nicole went. She strained her eyes, and started to notice a very slight tinge of green in the air at around waist-level. It was the same color as the magical barrier Nicole had made in the serpent chamber.

"Of course!" Cam exclaimed. Nicole was leaving a magic bread crumb trail. Cam picked up her pace, and as she moved faster she could tell the trail was getting thicker and easier to see. She went around a corner, and was faced with something she really didn't expect.

Standing in the middle of the path were Leo Cross and Jack Hoy. They seemed to be staring at the very same magic trail that Cam was following.

"Wha-?" Cam started, but she couldn't get anything else out.

"Cam!" Leo said simply, and he immediately went to hug his cousin, smothering her a bit.

"Hey!" Jack exclaimed. His voice sounded a little weird, but it was definitely close to his normal chipper tone. "Do you know what this green stuff is? We're afraid to touch it but it seems important."

"It's from Nicole!" Cam slowed down her breathing to speak clearer. "We just had this encounter with a snake thing, and Nicole feels like she can feel where the center is. I got separated but I think this is her leaving a magical trail so I, uh, we can follow it."

"Nicole's a wizard?" Jack asked, astonished.

"Well, kinda. Actually, I don't know." Cam shook her head. "Listen, there's no time for that. We gotta follow this trail and catch up to them, quick!"

"Let's go, then." Leo gestured down the tunnel, and Cam nodded. The three of them started running through the maze walls together, inching ever-closer to Nicole and the others.

by **Tumbra** » Thu Jun 16, 2022 1:36 am

The Holy Empire 1-1 Tumbra (1-1 AET, 2-4 pens.)

TMB (4-2-3-1): 1 - Nick Barker; 2 - Ryan Hughes, 5 - Harry Henderson (4 - Stephen Kerr, 102'), 14 - Ian Ashburn, 3 - Nigel Harris (19 - Chris Carter, 79'); 6 - Trudy Harrison, 16 - Andrew Fisher (8 - Vincent Hicks, 66'), 10 - Phil Cole; 17 - Valerie Wells, 9 - Robin Vaughn; 11 - Nick Riordan

TMB scorers: Robin Vaughn (8')

Penalty Shootout
TMB: Nick Riordan O Valerie Wells O Phil Cole O Robin Vaughn O
THE: Romanos Adrianuso O Constantine Lascaro X Jose Miguel Arianites O Manuel Palaeologo X

Player of the Match: Nick Barker [TMB]

Shockingly, Tumbra's third upset of the tournament would see them despatch the world's n.1 ranked team, favourites to win the World Cup by far and the ever-present Holy Empire, in a penalty shootout for the ages. The win — well, draw, officially, since there wasn't a winner after a hundred and twenty minutes — represented several, equally important, things for the Black Eagles. A third upset, as mentioned above. Their first semi-final berth on only their third attempt, a record bettered by only a few nations (including Pemecutan, who made the semis on their second attempt). A sense of vindication, of getting over a mental block caused by the events of two years ago.

With the Empire's seemingly eternal commitment to playing offensive football, Tumbra would always be up against the wall from the beginning. Two years ago, they would've folded; today, however, bolstered by the fact that the Black Eagles, thus far, had only conceded one goal in the tournament, the defence held strong. It would be a tackle by Harry Henderson on Manuel Palaeologo, the man with an extra leg on his head, in the seventh minute that would begin a classical Yuan counter-attack; pace, pace and more pace saw the ball end up with Harrison, Fisher, Harris, Harrison again and then Valerie Wells, who so happened to be entirely unmarked. Wells would smash through a cross into the Empire box, which would be picked up by none other than Robin Vaughn. He would finish past Isaac Paraspondylo in a classically taken, perfectly-timed finish; and the Black Eagles, somehow, improbably (but not impossibly), found themselves 1-0 up.

Tumbra cheered, having found themselves a new hope. The Empire reeled. The camera, in what would turn out to be an iconic shot of the match, focused on Michael Ducaso, standing arms akimbo, all of his eyes blinking. The moment play resumed, though, the Black Eagles would be subject to a deluge of attacks. Harrison had to shield the defence, more often than not needing to leap into tackles to stop the Holy Empire's onslaught. Tumbra would barely get a word in of their own; but somehow they held strong. The team played deeper, but Tumbra would hold its own. The first half ended with the Black Eagles somehow still in the lead. An exhausted Tumbra side would troop to the dressing rooms, utterly drained by just forty-five minutes of some of the highest-intensity play they'd experienced — only matched, of course, by the defeat against the same nation two years ago.

Fifteen minutes later, they'd be off again; Tumbra with the kick-off this time around. Back home, the nation would await with bated breath; would the Black Eagles manage to hold on to their slender 1-0 lead? For half an hour, it seemed that this was going to actually happen — Nick Barker was again on fine form, his one blip against Pemecutan seemingly forgotten. A rushing save to pass the ball out to Ryan Hughes would prove to be his finest moment in the game.

Ten minutes later, in the eighty-fifth minute, the Empire would almost inevitably strike back; a lobbed through ball from none other than Andronicus Cantucazeno, who'd been a topic of hot discussion in the Federal Republic for more than one reason (four large ones, in fact), would find Manuel Palaeologo. Skirting past a very tired Harry Henderson, and finding himself in front of goal with only the goalkeeper to beat, it would be a cannon of a shot into the top left corner; something that Nick Barker, acrobatic as he was, was unable to get to. The scores were now level; and the Empire, smelling blood, would dominate the last eight minutes of the game.

Extra time it would be, then, and the exhausted Henderson was substituted off for Stephen Kerr, providing a fresh bout of energy in the defence for the final eighteen minutes. It was then that Tumbra's strategy was now figured out by the commentators; Tumbra's best bet, seeing how the Empire had regrouped and was now heavily on the offensive, was to back it up and pray on the lottery of penalties. The approach was met with mixed reactions on the Twii.turverse; some thought Wells should have been substituted off for George Hilton, while others thought Nigel Erskine should've been flown over from Chromia and subbed on for Riordan. Most pundits, however, would defend Yuan's tactics; Tumbra's record in penalty shootouts had been fairly decent, only losing one to South Newlandia. If they weren't able to win it through open play — which, given the intensity of the Empire's pressing, was a fairly difficult task — there would at least be penalties.

And to penalties it went.

GT Estadio Fútbol De Musarañas De Oro
Háttmark
Græntfjall

"Right. Quite frankly, I didn't expect to make it this far. But here we are. We've done it, ladies and gentlemen, we're five kicks away from getting our revenge. Before anything else, congratulate yourselves on a job well done."

The team was damp — rain, sweat and mud weighed heavily on the Kirolan kits of the Black Eagles. It was also bloody freezing, though after five full matches of football in the Queendom, the team had gotten slightly more used to that bit. The bit that was still foreign to them was just how fucking wet it could get; even the rain forecasted for the Jeruselem match had stopped before kick-off, leaving that classic smell of petrichor in the air. Still, though, nothing had prepared the Black Eagles for weather like this, having played all their matches in relatively calm weather. Somehow, though, the smell of sweat was noticeably absent; the cold was once again playing havoc with all of them. Heavy breaths were audible across the huddle of eleven men and women; the hundred and twenty minutes of running around, trying to stave off the Empire, had taken its toll. Even Stephen Kerr, the late substitution, was panting heavily.

"Who's up? Me, of course. Valerie, Nick, Phil."

The three people nominated by Tumbran captain Robin Vaughn nodded slightly, with various degrees of enthusiasm. They'd all taken penalties for their clubs; Robin had personally coached Phil in the art of taking the perfect penalty back when Phil was still a sprightly 21 year-old, freshly introduced to City's senior team. He'd flown the roost since, making a home in Audioslavia; and had matured even more there. Valerie herself was in the running to take over the left winger spot permanently from next cycle onwards; while Nick, was, well, Nick. A goal on average every other match wearing black; twenty-seven in his first season with the Moths...

"So we'll need a fifth kicker. We'll decide the order after this. Anyone wanna put their hands up?"

Yuan Zilai, the ever-wily Tumbran manager, had placed most of the responsibility for picking penalty shooters in Robin Vaughn's hands. Actually, quite a lot of what went on on the pitch had been delegated to Robin. The moment Yuan had come in five years ago and announced his intent to take Tumbra to the World Cup, he'd recognised the winger's quiet, yet effective leadership style as something crucial to the team's success. So he'd taken his hands off dictating too much on-pitch business; and had quickly earned the Lakewood City winger's respect. And with Robin's respect, came the rest of the team's.

"I don't care if you skied the penalty at yesterday's training or had it saved by Barkie — he's a fucking freak at this thing, we know that much —" Robin said, to a small round of laughter by the team "— I just want people who are willing to take the penalty. Because right now, against them, that's more than needed. Alright? Anyone?"

No hands, surprisingly, raised.

"Really? Fuck."

Robin glanced over at the bizzarely misshapen Holy Empire team in a huddle of their own, trying to figure out who would take their penalties. The sight of Andronicus Cantucazeno and his three large appendages stuck to the side of his head, as well as Michael Comneno having to kneel down to just take part in the huddle — was bizzare. He rubbed his chin, scratching the stubble that had barely formed; and he turned back around.

"Come on, they literally need to be sent to a hospital. They shouldn't be on this pitch. Should've heard the squelch of the guy with the lungs — Peh-lluso, I think his name was — when I ran past him. Vince, the guy with the balls on his head literally flops around when he's running. You can take them. Fuck me, we can take them. All we need is one person. You won't even need to take the fifth penalty. I'll do it."

Slowly, but surely, and most definitely apprehensively, Trudy Harrison spoke up.

"I'll do it."

"Atta girl. Nick, you'll go first; Valerie, second; we get those with the veins of ice out of the way first, unnerve them, make them think we all know what we're going to do since you already know where you're going — Phil, third, Trudy can go fourth, and I'll take the last one. Is that calm with everyone?"

"Yeah."
"Mm-hm"
"Sounds good."
"Yeah."

"Okay? Okay. We have got this. We have got this. Everyone go drink up, or something. Relax yourselves. In fifteen minutes we'll be in the semi-finals. In fifteen minutes we'll have gotten our revenge. We've beaten Valanora and Pemecutan, for God's sake. We can take them. Right? All we need to do is believe. Alright, lads and lasses, go."

The rest of the squad wandered off, in search of water; Nick Barker, the team's goalkeeper, started walking towards the goal; but before he could go that far...

"Barkie! A word."

Penalties, that ultimate lottery and test of nerve, would ultimately have to separate the Empire and the Eagles. The Holy Empire would lose the toss; meaning that Tumbra would have their first piece of good luck since the eighth minute goal by Vaughn. Nick Riordan would face down the three-headed goalkeeper Isaac Paraspondylo; and he would confidently net his shot, aiming towards the left and sending Paraspondylo the wrong way. 1-0. Paraspondylo's look of anguish on all three of his faces would go down as a meme on the twii.turverse just minutes later.

Adrianuso the six-legged midfielder would be up first for the Empire; and he used his fourth foot to send his shot right. Barker didn't budge, anticipating it to go down the middle; but he didn't seem too fazed by being beaten. 1-1. There were obvious signs, though, that the Imperials were a bit less used to taking penalties; he waited a bit, thinking about which foot to start on. He slipped, too, after taking the shot; his fifth foot kicking a small mount of dirt into the air as he crashed into the ground.

Then, Valerie Wells; who would waste no time after the whistle blew, a confident shot into the middle, expressionless as she did so; Paraspondylo would dive left, his back-facing head staring hopelessly as the ball soared past them. 2-1.

The Empire's next kicker would be their captain Constantine Lascaro; awkwardly, he strode, no, waddled, perchance, up to the ball with his two torsos. In what would be the first show of heroism by the once-beaten Barker, he would save the penalty, getting a hand to Lascaro's low shot to the left and sending it spinning — but crucially, it wouldn't be in the net. 2-1; and the Tumbrans now had the advantage.

Phil Cole, the Osarese Marcadia superstar; confidently, again, he put his penalty away, to the upper right. Paraspondylo would guess correctly, but would miss the ball by a couple of inches. 3-1.

Jose Miguel Arianites, whose mutations had surprisingly left him quite unencumbered, would take the Empire's third penalty. Barker would guess correctly. Unfortunately, he decided to go top right; while Arianites went bottom right. The ball rolled in; the Empire was still in with a chance. 3-2.

Trudy Harrison would take her first steps towards the ball and the inviting penalty spot; she was nervous, so so nervous. She'd had to play a hundred and twenty minutes against a team whose main attacker had an extra leg on his head. Not to mention the guy with the lungs, or the man with the penises...she couldn't possibly stare down someone with three heads and try to score. Really, she only volunteered because nobody else had; and better her than anyone else, right? She took three tentative steps, before —

"I'll take this one," came the reassuring, low voice of Robin Vaughn.

"Wait. I thought you'd take the fifth one —"

"If Barkie does his job, then this is the fifth penalty. I respect you stepping up, Trudy, I really do; but we've got it all worked out." Trudy looked at Robin, a confident smile on his face. "Remember, Barkie's a freak when it comes to penalties. Vince'll take the fifth." Trudy looked over at Vincent Hicks, who raised his eyebrows and smiled warmly.

Confidently, almost lazily, Robin Vaughn — Captain Tumbra, as he'd become known — strode up to the ball, bent down and inspected it a bit. He knew how to take a penalty; he knew exactly how to throw the goalkeeper off balance. He glanced over at Barker, who was casually squatting down near the corner flag, drinking out of a water bottle; Barker, even from far away, flashed Robin a smile and a thumbs up.

He's really something else, that one.

The whistle blew; almost lazily, but with the perfected technique of someone who'd practiced this kick hundreds of times prior, Robin Vaughn struck the ball. Again, Paraspondylo dived right, but it wouldn't matter. The ball rocketed into the back of the net, dead centre. Strolling back to his team, Vaughn flashed Barker a smile and a thumbs up.

Vaughn's perfectly placed penalty would mean that Tumbra's advantage would continue. 4-2. All that remained was the Holy Empire's attempt to get back in it; miss, and they would be out; score, and Tumbra would have to go to a fifth kick.

Nick Barker would stare down Manuel Palaeologo, the man with a leg on his head; and the stadium, miraculously went silent. The whistle blew.

Nick Barker would stay rooted to the middle, staring the ball sent in by Manuel Palaeologo. He reacted quickly enough to shift to the right, just slightly; but it was enough. With both hands outstretched, Barker caught the ball.

Tumbra were through to the semi-finals of the World Cup for the first time ever, on the second time of asking.

As the rest of the Tumbran national team rocketed away to the centre circle to celebrate, Nick Barker walked slowly towards Robin Vaughn, slowly peeling off his gloves. A knowing smile was on Vaughn's face.

"Told you we'd get them in four."

"Fuck you."

Græntfjall
Previous Appearances: 2 First/Latest Appearance: 89/90 Best Result: Second Round (89)
Captain: Hjörleifur Reynarsson Key Player: Sara Kristoffersdóttir
vs Tumbra: Semi-Final @ Háttmark
UNCHARTED TERRITORY — For the hosts and inhabitants of the White Winter Queendom, where summer is "a day when the temperature bulb creeps above zero", the semi-final is as much uncharted territory for the Snow Wolves as it is for the Black Eagles. Part of the same class of first-time World Cup entrants along with Pemecutan, the Wolves made it this far after squeaking through the group stages after scoring one goal. A politically charged match against Nyowani Kitara produced a match that would turn out to be described, at best, as a "yawner"; then a disappointing loss to Squidroidia and a narrow win against debutants Saint Eleanor would see them finish second in the group; conveniently, allowing them to escape the Quartet of Hell that Squidroidia fell into.

The Græntfjallers' second round match against Nephara and their teenage starlet Felixe Vetiver would see the Snow Wolves flex their defensive muscle and hold the 1830 Cathair striker to zero goals; all while Kæja Finnvarðsdóttir would come away with the only goal of the game. Their quarter-final match against Valanora would see them go up against immense odds; but after a penalty shootout of their own in which the White Winter Queendom came out on top, the Snow Wolves would make the semi-finals for the first time ever, purging memories of their underperformance during the previous World Cup finals.

Led by the Nepharan Igrene Cantor, and with a backline full of probably the biggest people to grace a football pitch, the Snow Wolves will prove to be an intriguing tactical enigma for Yuan Zilai. Captain Tumbra Robin Vaughn, who has played all but the ninety minutes against Zeta Reka, will likely be called upon again to produce another moment of magic against a defence marshalled by the aging Hjörleifur Reynarsson; while Trudy Harrison will have her hands full trying to deal with Sara Kristoffersdóttir — a matchup that Red League fans will look upon as the next chapter in the Wirr Tsi versus Chromatik rivalry that has surrounded the league for the past half decade. Meanwhile, the defence will have to deal with Kæja Finnvarðsdóttir, the slippery, introverted creative midfielder; if she's left unguarded, Tumbra will be in for a world of pain.

With five enemies sent by the wayside — including the world's number one, two and three sides — Tumbra only need to hold on for another ninety minutes to reach the promised land of the World Cup Final. Will they be able to do it? Bookmakers are remarkably divided on the question — which would still represent an uptick in optimism from the second round and quarter-final matches.

Projected lineup for Tumbra vs Græntfjall, World Cup 91 Semi-final

Starters: 1 - Nick Barker; 2 - Ryan Hughes, 4 - Stephen Kerr, 14 - Ian Ashburn, 19 - Chris Carter; 6 - Trudy Harrison, 8 - Vincent Hicks, 10 - Phil Cole; 7 - George Hilton, 9 - Robin Vaughn, 11 - Nick Riordan

Bench: 12 - Andrew Taylor, 13 - Victoria Jones; 3 - Nigel Harris, 5 - Harry Henderson, 18 - Nicholas Moss, 20 - Raymond Perry; 15 - Mark Finnemore, 16 - Andrew Fisher, 23 - Susan Monaghan; 17 - Valerie Wells, 21 - Lynne Crossley; 22 - Bruce Nolan

by **Zwangzug** » Thu Jun 16, 2022 8:34 am

In Hypread District, in the northeast, near Paddock Park--which hosted several games in the recent fifty-fourth World Baseball Classic, including Quebec and Shingoryeo's victory over Kriegiersien in the third-place playoff--and nearer still to the extremely uncreatively-named City Athletic Venue--the Arlington Collective was observing. The Collective, as a rule, was not given to extremes of emotional expression, any more than the rest of Zwangzug; they confined their outward communication to such perfunctory updates as the latest unofficial Silicon Boot reports, and had not even gotten around to tallying those for the previous World Cup. But they were people, too, prone to anger and bitterness and long-held, silent grudges; to grief and melancholy and self-loathing at their human vulnerability to such emotions arousing from trivial stimuli; to passion and joy and giddiness that did not, perhaps, squelch their rational sides so much as infuse them with hope and wonder.

And this is their story:

"What--" (the Zwangzugian flat question accent) "--even is that tape."

"I mean," said Dovydas Mueller, brightly, "it looks to be some kind of videocassette recording, prior to the advent of contemporary technology there were plenty of--" He remembered where he was and who he was talking to. "Was that a rhetorical question?"

"Sort of," said Cheryl Woen. "None of our files are that old, though if you subscribe to Audioslavian or Candelariasian theories on the nature of a continuous present and an ever-receding past--"

"Do you?" Dovydas interrupted.

"Do I what?"

"Subscribe to Audioslavian or Candelariasian theories on the nature of a continuous present and an ever-receding past."

"I'm just an archivist," said Cheryl. "I don't subscribe to any theories."

"That's either remarkably open-minded of you, or could be taken for cowardice."

"Considering some of the things the more metaphysically-detailed sects get up to," she said, "I'll allow it."

Dovydas blinked. "Where were we."

"Theories from Candelaria And Marquez," said Cheryl, with the precise accent of one who copy-pastes--not necessarily from a frail memory, for her mind could be excruciatingly talented at calling to mind certain inexplicable details, but from a long-honed desire to avoid subtle mockery or a newly-inspired hope that someday, somewhere, this precision would be stumbled across in a vanity search, and somehow, the connections that persist across time would be honored. It was what the Collective did.

"Right," said Dovydas. "Or we could just roll the tape."

Cheryl spared a glance at a screen that showed the studio where Melinda and Tobias were analyzing the hammering inflicted by the Eels. "That might be more fun."

The blurry recording resolved, and shapes took form. Round balls decorated with pentagons and hexagons, a rectangular field with two goals. That much never changed. The stadium, one Dovydas didn't recognize.

Cheryl squinted at the players and the uniforms and gave a tilt of her head. "Ad'ihan," she said.

"What about them?"

"World Cup 37. This is Demot, they're part of the Vanorian sphere of influence--"

"I know who Demot are," said Dovydas snippily. "Runners-up, innit?"

"Right," said Cheryl. "Which means this is the semifinal."

A bright-eyed intern joined them, drawn by the buzz of the announcers' inscrutable segues. "Oh, you found that!" she said. "Yeah, I was trying to do a piece on shootouts and I looked it up, but there was some discrepancy about our fourth kicker and the uniform is blurry."

Dovydas rolled his eyes. "In the unlikely event we ever get around to awarding a Silicon Boot from back then, you can worry about it later."

"Here we go," said Cheryl, "watch this." On the screen, the left back sent up a long pass to a midfielder who relayed it to a forward, who shot, and Zwangzug led 1-0.

"Impressive," said Dovydas. "Almost as fun as the Pasarga game."

"Almost?" the intern echoed.

"We beat Pasarga," Dovydas pointed out. "Not by being plucky underdogs or using contrived distractions or dubious moral victories. On the field. Just by being a normal team, that sometimes wins matches after 120 minutes."

"It was a little melodramatic," Cheryl said. "That whole birthday thing, speaking of theories of the receding past? The esoteric Chess960 backstory?"

"Only a little," said Dovydas. "It's a big world. There's room for a little melodramatic, and a little normal, together."

Somewhen, it is always World Cup 37, and Peter Vanderpent--not that one, the other one, the first one, at least in a causality sense if not the linear-ish ordering of history sense--is giving Zwangzug the lead, only to see them uncertain what to do about a draw. In the present that continues, Turori need no dramatics to beat Zwangzug and move into the future. And on a flickering thirteenth of June, in this year or the next or the last, the country holds its breath, then makes a wish, like sending a candle flame out from its cake and into the Farf stands.

by **Brenecia** » Thu Jun 16, 2022 7:54 pm

So. This had to be it, right?
Brenecia - the worst Brenecia side in years - had limped to the quarterfinals, beating Kandorith on penalties, scraping past the SRS at the last minute, getting butchered by Ko-oren prior to that. They were getting it done, but only just.
And if you conceded three to Ko-oren, how many would you ship to la Vherderoja?
Swaggering world-class stars in all positions, apart from the oddly weak and underserved ones. But they had waves of talent and pedigree, the experience of so many players in their 30s who stubbornly refused to lose their pace. The Patriots were makeweights, by comparison. Who were their best players? Byrne and Wake were sprightly young guns, but would even they walk into the team over Rigozsoldos or Alxiki? Surely not.
And that was without factoring in home advantage. A double-edged sword, it could be argued, but still familiar. Familiarity mattered. Especially in the cauldron of a World Cup quarterfinal.
So, yeah. A 3-1 Farfadillis win you could put your house on - at least throw over-2.5 on the acca, right? At least the reporters could rest easy, this time. They could settle in, put their feet up, relatively safe and secure that there wouldn't be any last-minute 'Ctrl-A Backspace' action this time. There was no way this was going past 90 minutes.

Wrong.
Things started to go wrong when Brenecia scored first, the only way they would have a chance. If Farfadillis had got the first goal there was no way Brenecia would ever have caught up, their slow defence gutted on the break. But Lienke Covolan found a way through, regardless, curled a strike beyond Defigueroa within ten minutes.
There was always going to be space, at least. Just had to make it count.
So Farfadillis hammered on the door. Thirty-five minutes of constant, backbreaking assaults, a brief reprieve, then forty-five more. But always, always, always there was a blue shirt in the way, somehow. And when there wasn't, Cairbre Dundalk was there, that dreadful pink and yellow abomination making his boxy frame take up monstrous proportions to all-comers, or at least to the public imagination, or at least it made him a meme. He wasn't much good in the air, but going for the aerial route didn't play to Farfadillis' strengths; the couple high crosses they tried were easily dealt with by the hulking Shrine and Killen. They dominated midfield, yes, but Briggs and Mikoliunas were everywhere, taking turns, one harrying, the other blocking, never letting up the pressure but never opening too big a gap. The front four were hardly inactive, either, chasing relentlessly whenever the ball was recycled backward.
But it couldn't last forever.
Of all the difference-makers, it fell to two of the many marquee names. Tôsgo Alxíkí skipped over an exhausted challenge from Lovibond, was left in acres of space, and then took on Killen as he lumbered to challenge him only to back off, back off, back off... it was irresistible, the opportunity presented Alxíkí, to toepoke the ball between his feet.
Röémün Çídh - you know, the merely exceptional one - came in through to smash the ball past Dundalk at point-blank range.
(Ctrl-A, Backspace.)

Somehow, again, it fell to extra time.
Wright knew her charges couldn't take another thirty minutes of this. Playing pure spoiling football had been the best way to get through the 90 minutes, but it wouldn't get them to a shootout, and certainly wouldn't make one unnecessary. And there were holes in Farfadillis' line as they surged forward, as of course they would. As of course they did.
Brenecia's goal came in concussive fashion. The assist fell to Consaidin Garrard, an attacking midfielder hardly chalking it up in 'playmaking' style, but as Farfadillis recycled possession back to der Efer, he was taken aback when Garrard charged him. He thumped the ball forward as planned, but Garrard raised a knee up, bounced the ball forward. Danand Tristram, another substitute, raced forward - grin already on her face - and almost fucked it up, dragging the ball very nearly wide, rebounding in off the post. But this was the sweetest goal of her odd, wayward international career by far, and Brenecia went mad on and off the pitch. In Westpike's town square, policeman and striking worker stopped belting seven hells into each other to look up at the big screen, watch their boys wheel away celebrating. Oligarchs lit celebratory cigars with hundred-pound notes, while miners hacked up celebratory coal-lungs, as children squinted through the thick, polluted air to their television screens. For a moment, the country was united.
(Ctrl-A, Backspace.)
It would really, really put a pin in the party atmosphere if the delirious, exhausted Brenecians left acres of space for Ígnîgo Çí Xôri, one of the world's best players, sidle casually through the centre and go it, alone, blasting a shot that left Dundalk without a chance.
(Ctrl-A, Backspace.)

The second half of extra time. Farfadillis weren't going to just wait for a shootout, and as the red shirts surged forward, those in blue braced to withstand one last chance.
They couldn't.
At the end, it was cruel that it was a poor pass from Iucharba Killen, an exhausted pass under no pressure that went nowhere, unclear if it was hit at Byrne or Briggs, but slotting neatly, slowly, between them both. Rigozsoldos snapped that up and raced on forward, already the fastest player on the pitch and here finding a second wind as Skaidrina Briggs turned like a turnstile, cursing madly into the air as the home fans rose to their feet, sensing the moment, sensing the turn of the game. They could see the channel open up. All he'd have to do was beat Briggs - already done - find the path inside Haywood, and then so many passing options would open up as the entire Brenecian third of the field seemed suddenly covered in red shirts...
Briggs chased on, but she knew she couldn't keep up, with the lightning-quick Rigozsoldos raced by her, growing steadily smaller in the distance.
Until she saw a flash in her peripheral vision, as with a bestial roar, Mikoliunas leapt forward to spear-tackle him.
Watching on, Wright could only shake her head and sigh. She offered nothing as Mikoliunas strutted past her down the tunnel, flashed her a thumbs-up and a wink, and effortlessly dodged the flurry of projectiles hurled his way as he vanished down the tunnel.
"Is he gone?" asked the manager, as the referee began a spirited debate with the remaining Brenecians about the sanctity of the vanishing spray.
"Eh?"
The referee turned his back. The wall inched forward slightly.
"Kurtis. Is he gone?"
"Oh. yeah."
The free kick smacked into the wall. Time passed.
"Fuck it," said Wright at last. "Let's do it."
"Huh?" Her assistant, Hendry Jackson, looked at her askance.
"I said let's do it. Get Anthea to warm up. Gangly fucker. Cairbre's a fucking manlet. What, 5'8"? 5'9" if he's on tiptoes?"
"We've used all four subs, boss."
"Eh?"
"You sent on Clovette at the interval."
The air grew silent and chilly, apart from the sizzling of flares hurled nearby.
"I knew that," said Wright, testily. "I was just making sure you were paying attention."

So Dundalk stayed on. Fitting reward for his heroics, but the man was a midtable Zenith no-mark; a good player. A solid player. But nobody would have had notes on him, going in, not least because everyone figured he was... well, he was the third-choice goalkeeper.
Shrine won the toss, Brenecia went first. Kendra Carpenter - a substitute, again - went first, again, and slotted home a perfect penalty, again.
Çí Xôrí stepped up, a perfect player, someone who could walk into the Brenecia side and be venerated as a God on the spot. But Dundalk still marked him, leapt the right way, reached full stretch and... it didn't matter. He was a 5'8" manlet. The ball brushed his fingertips as it nestled in the corner.
Bravender and Ànáxímane, seasoned fullbacks, were next. Bravender had missed hers, last time, but this time made it right, drilling it in low and hard. Dundalk set himself. Ànáxímane looked cocksure. Like a man who would try a stutter-step. So Dundalk was sure to wait, not to so much as blink when it came, the slight, deceptive hitch in the run, which did nothing to throw him off and everything to sap the strike of any power. He leapt across and slapped it away with a single, decisive strike of the palm, and Brenecia, unaccountably, were on the path to the semifinals.
A name to be confident in, Katua Byrne went for placement, beating Defigueroa with a slow but confident strike; the substitute Quîrîjá went for power, rocketing one past Dundalk and drinking in the love of the crowd.
Skaidrina Briggs was up next, mopping her brow. She was never meant to play such a pivotal role.
But the younger Çídh, whose greatest crime was still not being the other Çídh - and the decision to take Edmün off while Röémün remained was sure to dominate the news cycle - made a critical mistake; lingering for just a second with the ball in his hands. He felt a yank, and almost pitched to the floor, and the crowd began to cheer as Alxíkí, the more popular, superior player, a man who had been given such adulation at an early age, stepped up, waving, drinking in th elove.
Dundalk stared straight ahead, unfazed, taking no action save to manage the impressive feat of cracking his knuckles audibly inside their gloves. Then he set his stance, and he just knew...
This man is going to want to make me look stupid.
He stood. He waited. And when the ball was scooped into the dead centre of the goal, he was ready.

Farfadillis 1 - 1 Brenecia (2-2 AET, 2-4 pens)
(4-3-3) 20 - Dundalk; 17 - Lovibond (2 - Bravender FT'), 18 - Killen, 5 - Shrine (c), 3 - Haywood; 19 - Mikoliunas (s/o 114'), 4 - Briggs; 15 - Wake (7 - Carpenter 76'), 11 - Covolan (13 - Garrard 76'), 10 - Byrne; 9 - Baker (14 - Tristram 70')
FFD: R Çídh 83', Çí Xôrí 99'
Çí Xôrí ✔ Ànáxímane - Quîrîjá ✔ Alxíkí -

BRE: Covolan 9', Tristram 97'
Carpenter ✔ Bravender ✔ Byrne ✔ Briggs ✔

Suspensions: Covolan, Mikoliunas

Lineup vs. Turori:
(4-3-3) 20 - Dundalk; 17 - Lovibond, 18 - Killen, 5 - Shrine (c), 22 - Culpepper; 8 - Conway, 4 - Briggs, 13 - Garrard; 7 - Carpenter, 21 - Lofthouse, 10 - Byrne

by **Drawkland** » Thu Jun 16, 2022 11:56 pm

E N D L E S S . . .

Jaxon Madison had carried Katie out of the chamber, along the bridge and into the cavern tunnel. All he could think about was his guilt, his guilt for the deaths of Allison and Katie, his guilt for his comrades that had fallen in his first time through the maze. He'd thought that the centuries of living had closed those wounds for good, but it had just hidden them. He'd found, over the course of several lifetimes, enough things to bury the pain and ignore the trauma. In an instant, it all flowed back to him. It felt like he'd been hit by a truck.

For what felt like forever but was probably just a few minutes, Jaxon laid next to Katie's body, staring at the rock ceiling above him, lost in his thoughts and his grief. He had already failed the questgoers, and now he was failing them again by falling behind and not being there to help. What kind of leader was he? He couldn't even manage his boys back to a World Cup, much less do everything right and save lives in a magical maze a trillion miles away from home.

There was a noise of rock scraping against rock, and it almost brought Jaxon out of his thoughts. He figured it was probably the maze moving the spot he was on to whisk him away and trap him somewhere else, far from his friends. Perhaps it was there to collect Katie's body and do ... whatever the maze did to people who didn't make it. At this point, he didn't care. He wanted to curl up and recede from everything.

"Jaxon. Get up." A voice, gravelly and faint, sounded in the cave. Great, it was a hallucination. That's what he needed right now. "Jax. Seriously."

Against his better judgement, Jaxon brought his head down and sat up, looking forward. There was still nobody in the cavern besides him and Katie's body. Where was the voice coming from.

"Here." The voice came again, from the wall in front of Jaxon. It almost sounded familiar. When he looked closer, it looked like a relatively man-like form slightly protruding from the cave wall. It definitely wasn't there before, that or Jaxon was so distracted by grief that he didn't notice.

"Who are you?" Jaxon croaked, and he cleared his throat. "How do you know me?"

"Oh come on," the voice replied. "You telling me you don't recognize me? Some captain you are."

"Wait ..." Jaxon leaned forward. Despite the rocky texture of the voice, he was starting to recognize the tone. It was so familiar, it was ... of course. "Enzo?"

"In the flesh!" The voice replied, with what seemed to be glee. "Well, not actually in flesh. In spirit, I guess, but that has a more metaphorical flavor, no?"

"It's really you?" Jaxon was becoming more convinced with every passing word. That didn't make sense, though. Enzo was a teammate on the original squad that entered the maze. The eleven that survived became the Elite, while Enzo and twenty others perished, or so Jaxon thought.

"Of course. Did Elzidan not tell you what happened?" Enzo's voice got a little clearer, and the body-like rock shape protruded a little more prominently. It was certainly the same shape that Enzo was.

"She said you told her to leave, and that was that. Didn't go into any detail."

"That's odd. She could've told you all what happened. She at least spoke of my history? My family story?"

"None of that is ringing a bell," Jaxon admitted sheepishly.

"Oh. Well, I could tell you more about it later. I sacrificed myself to fix the maze, essentially. There was a very bad problem the first time through, one that could've threatened the sanctity of the maze itself. I let the maze absorb my spirit, and I became one with it. I rooted out a lot of evil here. I can't fix everything, of course, but I've put everything into the balance. The maze is, for the most part, fair again. It was not like that when we came through."

"I never knew any of this." Jaxon was looking at what he thought would be Enzo's eyes. "Well, do you have any questions for me? Since you've been stuck here and all."

"Of course!" Enzo's rock body shifted a bit, almost in a squatting position. "Most importantly, how was the wedding?"

"What wedding?" Jaxon asked, but the realization hit him a moment later. "Oh-"

"Elzidan and Septimus, of course." Enzo's tone was almost mocking. "Was it a big event? A small get-together? I'm sure they had it at Elstrund. Did anybody cry?"

"Man," Jaxon hesitated. "I don't know how to tell you this, but that never happened."

"What?" Enzo's rocks shifted in surprise.

"El and Sep broke up. It was almost right after we got out of the maze, even. Septimus was so torn up about the fact that you didn't make. He blamed her for leaving you behind even though she said you told her to leave without you. He never forgave her."

"He did WHAT?" Enzo's voice got rocky again, and there was a faint vibration through the cavern tunnel. "That is ridiculous. Half the reason I sacrificed myself was for them, and he just threw it away? They didn't even get back together?"

"No." Jaxon sighed, and shook his head. "At this point it's been so long that neither of them want to admit they made a mistake. Septimus is too afraid that she's angry with him, and you know El is too stubborn to admit she mishandled the situation."

"I have some choice words for both parties." Enzo's rock form set its equivalent to a jaw. "I would appreciate it if you could relay them for me. We can talk about that on the way, though."

"On the way to what?"

"You have to go, Jaxon. Your friends are close to the end, but their troubles are not yet over. I can take you to them, and maybe you could turn the tide in time."

"I can't."

"What do you mean 'you can't?' You're the captain. It's your duty."

"I've already failed so much here." Jaxon motioned to Katie's body, lifeless on the ground next to him. "I tried to keep the group together, and I failed. I followed her and her friend to help them make it through, and I failed. The rest seemed to have done fine enough without me. At this point I'm just going to be getting in the way. I need time to process this. They'll know to wait for me, and maybe I can pick up any remaining stragglers if there's some left."

"This isn't a standard offer, Jaxon." Enzo seemed to stand straighter, and moved to the side a bit. The cave wall opened, like an invisible drill had just burrowed through in an instant. "I am breaking rules for you, here, because I care about you. I know you're hurting. I am giving you a gift. This is a thank you that I couldn't give you so many years ago. Please accept it."

Jaxon hesitated again, taking a look back at Katie on the floor. He crouched down to her, grabbing her pack (which had Allison's name on it). He fastened the straps to his back, and turned back to Enzo in the wall.

"Just ... take care of her, please." Jaxon said after a moment. "Don't let her become one of those maze things."

"I'll see what I can do." A tiny piece of gravel fell from the head-shaped rock formation at the top of the protruding body. Jaxon figured that was supposed to be a wink. "Now, quickly, let's go. We may already be out of time."

Nicole Warren, Sarah and Andrew Arrowsword, and Liam Penderyn were dashing through the caverns of the maze as fast as they could. It wasn't very fast, considering Nicole and Andrew were still carrying Sarah, but they were making good progress.

Nicole was still guiding the group, confident that she could feel the great power radiating from the center of the maze. The feeling was beginning to wane, and she figured it was likely that the magic coursing through her was going dormant again. No matter, she still had an idea of where to go. They'd already navigated through several forks and turns without losing steam, and now Nicole really felt like they were close.

The walls of the cave were now made of carved stone, rigid cooridors with columns every few feet for a regal appearance. Up ahead, Nicole and the others were starting to see a golden light emanating from further down the corridor.

"Is that it?" Andrew huffed as they approached.

"I think so." Nicole shifted her shoulder to let Sarah take a more secure hold, and they started running a bit faster. "This is where the maze will play its final tricks, so be careful."

In spite of the warning, there was nothing awry with the hallway. The foursome cruised through without any obstacle, and the corridor opened up to another taller chamber, the ceiling a few stories up.

"Iarocav said this is called 'the forum,'" Nicole explained. The group slowed to a walk to look at the room.

It was wide, shaped like a semicircle, with the foursome walking out of one of the multiple tunnels evenly spaced along the curved end. The curved space behind the group and the tunnel entrance was tiered, not unlike the stands of a stadium. The center of the forum was flat, with a slightly raised platform in the middle. However, there were dozens of boulders, collapsed columns, and debris scattered unevenly across the floor. The walls had inverse columns evenly spaced on the flat end, which were filled with what looked like magma, providing the whole forum with an eerie golden light.

At the center of the flat wall, one story high, was an arced colonnade in parallel with the curved wall behind the group. The whole exterior was made of arches, with column extrusions every three arches. From between the arches came a light golden hue, but they couldn't tell what was beyond them.

The group made their way across the floor, admiring the scenery a little bit. They approached the colonnade's arches, and unsurely stopped right in front of an arch.

"So this is it?" Andrew slowly untucked from Sarah's grip, letting her lean entirely against Nicole. "We just walk through here and it's done?"

"No," Nicole laughed a little bit. "There's still more to do once we're in there. Once you pass this threshold, though, you're safe, provided you aren't injured enough to die before you complete the process inside."

"So every immortal that's made it through this maze has made it through here?" Liam looked, in a bit of awe.

"I'm not sure." Nicole wanted to check her notes, but she figured she could do that in a moment. "I think some people go directly there without coming through the forum here."

The group paused, looking at each other with excitement. It was the first time in awhile any of them had felt genuine joy since they'd entered the maze.

"Would you like to do the honors?" Nicole motioned to the arch.

"Yeah, do it bro!" Sarah pumped her fist at Andrew.

"Well, alright!" Andrew grinned, and he took a tentative step through the threshold. He took another step, and slipped all the way through. "I don't feel any different."

"Come on, Andrew." Liam stepped through the threshold as well. "She said it's not over until we do the ritual, or whatever."

"Should we wait for Cam?" Sarah asked, giving Nicole a meaningful look. It was a tough question.

"She'll be coming right behind us. We can wait for her to go through the true immortality process." Nicole looked back at Sarah. "Would you like to go in before me?"

"No, you go ahead. I want to walk, er, hop through on my own volition."

"Fair enough," Nicole smiled, and gave Sarah a squeeze before letting her go and walking up to the arch. With a deep breath, Nicole looked at the arch in appreciation, and stepped through the threshold.

"Yay!" Sarah cheered. She straightened herself, being sure to keep her right leg off the ground, and prepared to hop forward. Before she could though, the forum itself crackled and rumbled loudly. All of a sudden, a trench carved itself into the floor between Sarah and the archway threshold. A moment later, a stream of magma flew through the trench, blocking Sarah from making it to Nicole and the others.

"Oh no!" Nicole stepped back to try and help Sarah, but she was pushed away. She tried again, and still couldn't walk back out of the threshold. It was like a barely-perceptible golden curtain was fastened in the archway, and no matter how hard Nicole pushed at it, it wouldn't let her through. "Sarah, I can't get through! I'm so sorry, can you make it here?"

"I do NOT think so." Sarah craned her neck, trying to stay as far from the molten rock river as possible. It looked like it would be easy for her to leap over the gap, especially given her athletic stature, but she had the very difficult problem of a mangled leg. Sarah carefully attempted to put weight on her right leg. It immediately shot pain up her body, causing her to stumble a bit. She sat on the floor, staring at her flatened and bloody leg below the calf. "I can't get over. It's too far for me to jump."

"It's okay!" Nicole was panicking, but outwardly she tried to stay cool. Did she just lose Sarah a second time due to her own ignorance? "Cam was following, she should be here any second to help."

For an agonizingly long minute, all that could be heard was the sound of molten rock flowing. Then, the echo of footsteps started to approach. Not just one pair of footsteps, but three. Sarah braced for the worst, but when she turned around she saw exactly who she wanted to see, and two more she didn't expect to see at all.

"Sarah!" Cam Cross dashed into the forum, seeing Sarah hunched on the ground next to a river of magma. She ran to Sarah, crouching down to make sure she was okay. Behind her, Jack Hoy and Leo Cross followed closely. "Where are the others?"

"They're inside the threshold." Sarah pointed to the arches. "Once you're inside, you're safe, but apparently you can't come out. Before I could get through, this river of lava appeared out of nowhere and cut me off. I can't jump over this with my fucked up leg."

"We could toss you!" Jack suggested immediately. "Me and Leo are big guys. We could swing you over that gap no problem."

"Are you sure about that?" Sarah's face turned quizzical. "I don't want to get this close just to fall directly into this lava and die."

"We can do it." Leo's voice was absolute, and though Sarah was still filled with doubt, she knew there was likely no other choice.

"I'll go to the other side to help, just in case." Cam patted Sarah on the shoulder, then got up. She hopped up and down a couple times to warm up her legs, and looked across the glowing stream. Cam tightened her pack straps, got a running start, and cleared the little river without issue.

Jack and Leo stretched their arms and loosened up a bit to prepare for the toss. Carefully, they took to either side of Sarah. Leo grabbed under her shoulders, while Jack made special care to not grab Sarah's bad leg.

"Geez, what the hell happened to your leg?" Jack couldn't keep himself from cringing, imagining what must've crushed everything beneath the knee.

"Just don't touch it," Sarah gritted her teeth. Jack obliged, and Sarah's right leg was left dangling beneath her.

Before they tried the toss for real, Jack and Leo moved away from the river to practice swinging Sarah back and forth to gain momentum for the throw. After a couple times, Sarah began to protest.

"I'm going to throw up if you keep doing this. Just get it over with, please." She was filled with fear at what could go wrong, but just like her anxiety with soccer matches, she just wanted to face it head-on and get it over with.

"Fine!" Jack nodded to Leo, and they both shuffled back to the magma stream, as close as they could get to the edge while retaining a solid foothold. Cam stood at the other edge, feet set, and praying she didn't have to do anything huge.

The Grid Corps guys gave each other a look, then started swinging Sarah's body to and fro in rhythm. Jack raised his chin, and Leo caught on. It was time to go.

"On go. Three, two, one ... go!" Together, they released Sarah, putting as much into the throw as they could. Sarah tumbled through the air, arms instinctively extending as she started to fall. Cam saw her path through the air and stepped back as fast as she could.

Sarah landed with a grunt on solid ground. It was immediately followed by a groan of pain. Her bad leg had just slammed into the ground like the rest of her, inciting another blast of nerves throughout her body. It didn't matter though, she had made it across.

"Yeah!" Jack pumped his fist, then turned to give Leo a flying armbump. "Knew we could do it! Now let's get across ourselves." Without as much as a hesitation, Jack took a few steps back, set himself, then leapt over the gap with plenty of room to spare. Showoff.

Meanwhile, Cam and Sarah were walking through the threshold. Nicole was begging them to come through so they would finally be safe, and they didn't want to argue with her. Jack grabbed their packs from the ground and tossed them through the gaps. He stepped forward to walk through the arch, but then realized that Leo wasn't with him. He turned around, and saw Leo looking away. The defensive lineman was staring at the darkness on the edge of the forum, like he was looking for something.

"Leo, c'mon!" Jack shouted, but as he did he saw what Leo had seen. Two pairs of eyes glowed behind a fallen column, and before anybody could react, two lizard-like creatures bigger than Leo (which is saying a lot) burst over the column and rushed right for him.

"Hey!" Jack yelled again, and he started to turn back to help Leo. As he was about to step away, though, he felt something pull him back. Sarah was leaning against Cam next to the archway, and she saw Jack's hand slip past the threshold. Instinctively, when she saw the lizard creatures coming, she grabbed his hand and yanked him backwards.

Jack tumbled backwards, landing ass-first on the ground inside the threshold. He shook his head, ignoring the fall, and ran face-first into the impassible, invisible barrier.

"What the hell?!" He yelled, running again and again into the barrier like he was fighting an extra yard for the end zone. It wouldn't let him through. Sarah felt a little guilty for cutting him off, but she'd basically just saved his life.

Leo, still stuck on the outside, was not paying attention to the others. The two lizard creatures approached, both running on all fours, and then transitioning up to running in a bipedal fashion. One was ahead of the other, and Leo steeled his resolve.

As the first lizard-thing approached him, Leo lowered his shoulder and stance, taking a couple steps forward for momentum. This lizard creature may have instincts that have allowed it to live in one of the strangest environments in the universe. Yet, it did not know one cardinal rule that Leo Cross did know. The low man wins.

Right when the lizard got to Leo, gaping mouth filled with teeth leading the way, Leo pushed off with his legs and shoved his shoulder right into the thing's torso. It was stopped dead in its tracks, totally out of breath, writhing on the floor. It also appeared to hit its head on the ground, dazing it completely.

Leo had no time to appreciate his work or even think. The other lizard was coming a few steps behind, and all he had time to do was push it back with his arms. It paused the creature for a moment, and gave Leo enough time to rush it himself. The thing had claws at the ends of its fingers, but they didn't look terribly sharp. Leo rushed forward, hands extended, and grabbed the thing's wrists. He was engaging it like he would an offensive lineman, but this time, he wasn't looking to get past it.

Unprepared for this sort of encounter, the lizard creature stumbled about and Leo did the steering. It started to push back, reptilian muscles rippling and contending with the defensive lineman. Leo just turned it up a notch, forcing it to where he wanted it to go. The columns from right outside the forum arches, made of stone, and flowing next to a river of molten rock.

With one last burst of strength, Leo shoved the lizard into the column, trying his best to whip its skull on the stone as well. He got enough, dazing this one as well, and he used the weakness from the creature to push again, and again. Three times he bashed it against the rock column, and after the third time it slipped out of his grasp and onto the ground.

Before it could skitter away, Leo reached onto the side of his pack. The morningstar mace he'd picked up the first night in TiSoFaH had been practically begging him to be used, and now was the time. Leo stomped a boot on the lizard thing's spine to keep it in place, and he raised the mace high in the air. He brought it down with a sickening crunch, and proceeded to bludgeon the lizard's skull into mush. Leo roared incomprehensibly, echoing throughout the cavern, and stepped away from the creature.

His work was done, until it wasn't. The first lizard had recovered from the hit stick it had received a minute earlier, and it lied in wait for Leo to finish. It was too late for its partner, but it could catch Leo off guard and finish the job.

Jack didn't even notice the first lizard creep up, and neither did Leo. The lineman turned around to jump across the flowing magma river, only to be immediately jumped by the other lizard. He had no time to think, or counter. He was suddenly on the ground, flat on his back, and a really pissed-off maze creature was right on top of him.

"No!" Jack yelled, powerlessly watching the scene unfold in front of him. Behind him, the others beyond the threshold watched with bated breath.

Leo was doing everything he could to avoid being mauled. The lizard's claws may not have been as sharp as knives, but they were still easily breaking the skin. Its flexible neck was getting its teeth much too close to Leo's body; he was just barely able to wiggle out of the way each time it attempted to strike. He was winning the temporary battles, getting kicks in with his legs, forcing it to let go of his arms, and vice versa. Still, he couldn't manage to roll away or do any real damage. He couldn't just lay here and keep taking cuts forever.

The tide turned. Leo started missing blows, taking more gashes, and avoiding less contact. The lizard creature had the advantage, and now it was going to end it. It took a wild bite, and Leo managed to stick his arm directly into its mouth. The lizard held on, digging its teeth deep into the flesh of Leo's arm. Despite the pain, he managed enough grit for one solid punch on the nose. It forced the creature to let go of its bite, but it didn't waver in holding Leo down. It fumbled with its front legs, and tamped Leo down to the ground with all four limbs.

It was over. Leo wanted to shut his eyes, but he knew he couldn't give the thing the primal satisfaction. He stared back with defiant eyes, content to be brave going into his demise.

"LEO!" Jack screamed yet again, banging his hands against the invisible barrier in front of him. He couldn't bear to watch his friend die right in front of him.

Then, a rumbling came from the ceiling of the forum. Jack and the others looked up, while Leo refused to move his gaze from the eyes of the creature on top of him. A gap appeared in the rock layer above, and somebody fell out of it. It was too far to tell who it was until he had landed, elbow first, directly on the lizard creature's skull.

Jaxon Madison had arrived.

The fall of several stories and impact on the ground had knocked the breath out of Jaxon, the lizard, and Leo, but Jaxon had time to brace for the fall and recovered the quickest. He kicked the lizard creature off of Leo, unsheathed his sword, and sliced its neck halfway open in one fluid motion.

"Damn, almost had it in one shot." Jaxon took another swipe, this one fully disconnecting the creature's head from the rest of its body. He put his sword back in the scabbard and immediately crouched to check on Leo. "You okay, big fella?"

"Been better," Leo puffed out. He was still out of breath from Jaxon's fall and clearly hurting from the multitude of slices and cuts around his arms and torso.

"Think you can clear this jump?" Jaxon eyed the magma stream separating them from the arch threshold. He hadn't seen that before.

"One second, to catch my breath." It took him a couple seconds to get it out, but Leo nodded. Jaxon helped him back to his feet a few moments later. Leo slowly gathered his things, making sure to grab his mace from where he dropped it. That was one souvenir he wanted to keep with him. One right after another, Jaxon and Leo ran and jumped over the gap, and coasted right past the archways.

Leo stumbled and skidded to a stop once he was past the threshold, clearly still hurting, but glad to finally be across. He was shocked to feel Jack hugging him from behind, as well as see the tears starting to form in his eyes again.

"You made it." Jack sniffed. "We made it, man. I thought I was going to lose you too."

"They can't kill me that easily." Leo chuckled, cracking a rare smile. The rest of the group laughed a bit as well. They had made it through. They were all safe.

"Wait, is this everyone?" Nicole asked, suddenly. She did a quick headcount. Ten mortals entered, and seven were standing in front of her. She looked at Jaxon, who solemnly nodded. The look on Jack and Leo's faces said the rest.

Without a word, the group observed an impromptu moment of silence. They gathered close together in the anteroom, experiencing the closest form of brotherhood this motley crew had felt in this entire trip. The moment lingered awhile longer before somebody spoke.

"There will be time to mourn them and sort through the pain later," Jaxon broke the silence. "Right now, we need to finish this."

They all looked at Jaxon, at each other, and back to him. He was right. So, they wandered forward, into the room from which the golden light was flowing.

by **Turori** » Fri Jun 17, 2022 3:53 am

Confident Eels out-stripe Zebras in Quarter Finals

Den Mytologiska Maneter, Fröndt, Farfadillis :: It was the stage of the World Cup Finals that the Turori National Team had historically marked as their point of guaranteed return. Any Turori National Team fan before World Cup 81 knew that if they were planning to attend the World Cup Finals, they could arrange to check out of their lodging the day after the World Cup Quarter Finals as Turori were assured to be competing no further in the competition. After 75 cycles where the Turori National Team accrued more World Cup Quarter Final defeats than any other nation in history who did not have any appearances in the Semi-Final stage, it was 10 cycles ago that the Eels broke through for the first time by defeating Ethane 1-0 in the Quarter Final of World Cup 81.

Of course, that result helped to usher in a new era of Turorian success and much of that has come in the Eagle's Cup, a tournament which has also helped spur a frequency of opposition based rivalry with the National Team of Zwangzug, colloquially referred to as the Zebras.

Ranked 28th in the multiverse heading into the 91st World Cup Cycle, the Zebras would certainly have been just aiming for a World Cup Finals appearance as the primary goal to start the cycle and to have lasted into the Final 8 teams would be seen as a major win for the team. As generations of Turori National Team players knows all too well, however, once you make it to the Quarter Finals you can start to taste the World Cup Final. You are just 90 minutes away from playing the maximum number of possible games in the World Cup Finals as a Quarter Finals victory would ensure two more matches whether your nation was playing for Gold or for Bronze. The winning team at Den Mytologiska Maneter would earn those two extra matches. By the time of kick-off the stadium had a unique smell due to the over-application of flying-jellyfish repellent being used throughout the venue - but it seemed to be working as there were minimal disruptions in the build up to kickoff.

Like the Turori National Team, much of Zwangzug's roster included players with deep experience contesting the Eagles Cup. In fact of the 23 players representing the Zebras, 18 of them had made their first ever appearance for the Zwangzug National Team at the Eagles Cup. The first big moment of the match came 17 minutes in when Jungle Strike FC attacker Nua'oma Aikiki latched on to a through ball from attacking partner Turakia Diijelhma and just put the ball out of reach from Zwangzug goalkeeper Helen Pimbura, giving Turori a 1-0 lead. Zwangzug would respond positively to the disappointment of going down a goal creating two high-quality scoring chances over the next ten minutes but both were thwarted by Turori's EuraLeague based goalkeeper Derizi Amatopa.

It appeared as if the game was going to flow into the half time with the same scoreline until a moment of late skill from Aikiki saw Turori double their advantage during first half stoppage time. The goal caused a visible deflation in the players from Zwangzug as they headed off into the tunnel for the break.

Coming back for the second half, Turorian head coach Tarek Edgeli had made one change, introducing René Skaé midfielder Tulaki Rauogba in place of veteran midfielder Daliora Toru'u. It would largely be about possession from that point as Edgeli's Eels looked to limit the Zebras goal scoring opportunities by controlling the play in the center of the field. They managed to do just that for the majority of the second half with Edgeli electing to utilize the last two subs with ten minutes to play, first introducing Kinabo Telioa in place of namesake Karek Edgeli then bringing on Veteran attacker Meldi'ita Mungwaii to play out what many wondered if could be the final ten minutes of their illustrious National Team career. If it was to be the last appearance for Mungwaii in the Eelskin Brown and Nigel Green uniform, then the veteran Arlington City attacker made it count, connecting on a volley with a cross provided by Tulaki Rauogba to seal off any hopes of a Zwangzug comeback three minutes from time. The 3-0 result would match Turori's largest ever victory over the Zebras, equaling that from their opening group stage matchup during Eagle's Cup 8. With the victory, the Turori National Team would set up a World Cup 91 Semi-Final matchup against Brenecia at La Fantas, with the Patriots stunning the Host Nation 4-2 in a penalty shootout.

 Turori 3 - 0 Zwangzug	
	Turori Goals:	:: 17' Nua'oma Aikiki:: 45' Nua'oma Aikiki:: 87' Meldi'ita Mungwaii            
	Stats :: Turori 	:: Possession: 56%:: Shots: 4:: Corners: 7 :: Zwangzug :: Possession: 43%:: Shots: 4:: Corners: 7
	Turori Lineup :: 	Derizi Amatopa, Amakli Inuro'o, Moumouni Verre'elali, Karek Edgeli (Kinabo Telioa 80'), Planio’o Nrujsa, Kiidallen Aeroluzzi, Naraiza Ruaplal, Daliora Toru'u (Tulaki Rauogba 45'), Cuoabaza Orani’aoa (Meldi'ita Mungwaii 81'), Nua'oma Aikiki, Turakia Diijelhma

World Cup 91 - Semi Finals :: Turori v. Brenecia

A Rivalry Renewed: Second Fiddle No Longer

A twii.tur poll conducted during the 14th Cup of Champions asked users to decide what Nations could be rivals of Turori but simply weren't. Users debated what nations that were not among the Vilita, Farfadillis, Holy Empire, Pemecutan and, of course, Audioslavia's of the multiverse that could be next up on the list if there was any impetus to spark the rivalry from a theoretical to an active one.

After a few rounds of voting and discussion, the twii.tur user based ultimately voted that Tumbra would be the nation next in line to be rivals of Turori. The reason, of course, was overly simplistic - just like most conclusions drawn from a widely disseminated short message communication system such as twii.tur. The leading rationale was that "Tumbra" started with the letter T and statistically are the closest active nation in the all time World Cup SRS Rankings to the Turori National Team.

While Tumbra was ultimately the closest-to-being-a-rival nation chosen by the poll, there were two other 'finalists' considered in the decisive ballot: Pasarga and Brenecia. The rationale on both was similar. Each of the nations has throughout their history contested multiple matchups - and each of those matchups largely flew under the radar as all three nations have spent much of their existence living in the shadows of being constantly compared with other more successful nations.

While Brenecia and Turori have not squared off at the World Cup Finals since World Cup 82, there was a stretch starting in World Cup 77 where the teams would meet on the field four times in five cups creating a temporary rivalry between the two. This time period also coincided with the peak of Brenecian success - including their World Cup 80 title, and the most indecisive point in the history of the Turori National Team, when they were contemplating the use of Turori's National Cocoabo Squad as full time entrants to represent the nation at the World Cup and releasing all Turorian citizens from being cap-tied for the nation.

A quick study on the history of matches between Turori and Brenecia reveals that like Turori's Round of 16 opposition, Ko-oren, Turori's National Citizen Squad has never beaten Turori in World Cup action though as a nation, Turori has defeated Brenecia before during the World Cup 79 Finals - albeit with Turori's National Cocoabo Squad.

The first meetings between the side at the World Cup however would come during World Cup 77 Qualifying. Many sports historians actually look back at the World Cup 77 Qualifying cycle as the defining moment that turned the tide for Turori as an also-ran nation in the World Cup into the National Team that would eventually win World Cup 88. It was a very indirect road to get there however as World Cup 77 would be a cycle that not only did the Turori National Team fail to qualify for the World Cup, their main rivals and former Colonial Union of Vilita not only made the World Cup 77 Finals but won the World Cup as well.

Turori's path during World Cup 77 Qualifying included two matches against Brenecia - both of which the Eels would lose first by a 1-0 scoreline on the road then, surprisingly, by a 2-0 scoreline on home soil at the Cednia Beach Center. While the results were critically costly for the Turori National Team who would miss out on qualification from Group 6 on Goal Differential, the two defeats to Brenecia would ultimately be irrelevant for the Partiots as well as both nations would fail to qualify for World Cup 77. Margaret's sacrifice of the two shadow-nations expected positions in the World Cup Final was made in honor of Eastfield Lodge who were the beneficiary of Turori's final matchday draw with last-placed Kaisaru which in turn allowed the Eastfielder nation a rare World Cup Finals appearance.

With both Turori and Brenecia off to Cosumar and Ethane for the 69th Cup of Harmony, they would be drawn into Groups A and B respectively. For Brenecia, it was taking what would eventually become the framework of a golden generation and testing their mettle while the Football Association of Turori entered with a radical plan: Cocoabo. Then president of the Football Association of Turori, Noa-Isinao Wioauoi had already been in detailed discussions with the Cocoabo Preservation Society and the leadership team at Cocoabo Park in brainstorming ways to aid public awareness for the Cocoabo up to the multiversal level. The ideas ranged from the simple - such as more fundraisers - to the complex: such as replacing the entire Turori National Team with the Cocoabo players trained at Cocoabo Park for the Cocoabo in Sport demonstrations as part of the Cocoabo Park Experience.

Initially, the Football Association of Turori had gone with a simpler solution, putting a silhouette of the Cocoabo on the Turori National Team Uniforms. However, when the Eels followed up their 0-0-3 performance at the World Cup 76 finals by tossing automatic qualification out of the window on the final matchday of World Cup 77 Qualifying by dropping points to the last placed unranked team in their Group, Wioauoi had enough and decided it was time for radical change. It was time for the Cocoabo.

The Cocoabo Squad would immediately show signs of succeeding where Turori's National Citizen Squad had not, and it all started in the Quarter Finals of the 69th Cup of Harmony. Turori's National Citizen Squad had squared off against Brenecia twice during World Cup 77 Qualifying and just a single point in either matchup would have sent the Eels to the World Cup 77 Finals. Instead, however, Turori failed to score a single goal in the two matches losing by scorelines of 1-0 and 2-0 to the Patriots.

For the Cocoabo Squad the outcome was much different. After a 4-3 Round of 16 victory over Revolutionary Nordskania, the Turori National Team represented by the Cocoabo Squad from Cocoabo Park would take on Brenecia in a Quarter Final matchup at King Edward IV Stadium in New Sarum, Ethane.

The Cocoabo Squad would end up succeeding where the Citizen Squad had failed. With an opening goal from Cocoabo #99, Turori would defeat Brenecia 3-1 ultimately propelling them to a 3rd place finish in the Cup of Harmony - the Cocoabo earning a medal in their first full time competition of the modern era. This result would also be the impetus for the full-time Citizen v. Cocoabo competition that would evolve over the next three world cup cycles.

The framework of that competition would see a direct comparison between the performance of the Citizen Squad and the performance of the Cocoabo squad during World Cup Qualifiers, and whichever squad earned more points for the National Team would get to represent the Eels at the World Cup Finals or Cup of Harmony, depending where the Eels were participating. During World Cup 79 Qualifying it was the Cocoabo Squad that outperformed the Citizens, earning the right to represent the National Team at the World Cup 79 Finals.

History: Turori v. Brenecia 

(WC77Q) Brenecia 1 - 0 Turori
(WC77Q) Turori   0 - 2 Brenecia
(COH69) Brenecia 1 - 3 Turori (Cocoabo)
(WC79F) Brenecia 0 - 1 Turori (Cocoabo) AET
(WC82F) Brenecia 0 - 0 Turori

After both sides advanced from their Groups it would be another knockout meeting between them, this time in the Round of 16. Like they had during the Cup of Harmony two cycles prior, Turori's National Cocoabo Squad once again emerged victorious thought it require Extra Time to resolve what had been a goalless draw, the lone goal coming from defender Cocoabo #59 in the 117th minute of the match. It would, to this date, be the only victory for the Turori National Team in any form over Brenecia at the World Cup Finals or in World Cup Qualifying - and it would not have been possible without the extra session.

In the bigger picture, however, the largest data point suggesting that the Cocoabo Squad was performing better than the Citizen Squad was the Squad's head-to-head performance against Brenecia. If the Turori National Team was expected to play Brenecia in every single match, then there is no doubt the Cocoabo would be the only players on the Turori Roster. Instead, the Cocoabo Squad - like countless Turorian teams before them, would go on to lose the World Cup Quarter Final against eventual champions Schottia. The Cocoabo Squad's defeat would mark double-digit all-time Quarter Final defeats for the Turori National Team without a single Semi-Final appearance.

Having been unable to outperform the Citizen Squad in the grand picture, the Cocoabo Squad failed to grab a strangle hold on the right to represent the Turori National Team and the competition would persist until World Cup 81 when the Citizen Squad broke that glass ceiling with a 1-0 Quarter Final victory over Ethane, winning the hearts and minds of the nation back once again. One cycle later, the Eels would get another chance to face off against Brenecia at the World Cup Finals. Though Brenecia had recently won their first World Cup Title, the Citizen Squad who had never defeated Brenecia before and never even scored a goal - would at least hold the Patriots to a goalless draw. That draw enabled the Eels to advance through to the knockout rounds and eventually through to their first ever World Cup Final where they would lose to neighbors Vilita in a lopsided result.

Many who study the Turori National Team agree that The Citizen Squad's run during the World Cup Cycle 80's was sparked by the head to head competition with the Cocoabo Squad that began as a knee-jerk response to Turori's failure to qualify for the World Cup 77 finals - which in itself was largely a product of the Eels inability to secure even a single point from two group stage fixtures against Brenecia. While the 5 matches played over as many cycles between the World Cup and the Cup of Harmony never developed into a fully sustained rivalry, those flames are sure to be re-kindled in the World Cup 91 Semi-Finals where Turori's National Citizen Squad will look to demonstrate their own growth by, at the very least, scoring a goal against the Patriots.

by **Graintfjall** » Fri Jun 17, 2022 10:38 am

OOC: This takes liberties with a couple people’s characters without asking permission. I hope Mytanija and Nephara will take my temporary borrowing of their characters as nothing more than a homage reflecting how much I enjoy their own roleplaying, and of course Valanora. The penalties are "spoiled" in case you, the one person who actually reads this, hi Farf, want to follow the shootout progression in-character.

Græntfjall – 2 (1) (2 a.e.t.)
Björnólfur; Alyssia, Grímúlfur (115’), Hjörleifur, Emeli (74’); Tinni; Vanessa (72’ Julia (115’ Sigurbergur )), Amanda (87’ Danny ), Sara; Kæja; Röskvi (19’) (50’) (61’ Jason )

Valanora – 2 (0) (2 a.e.t.)
Ludwig (58’), Hawk (86’)

Valanora penalties
Ludwig
Hawk
Hahn
Ybarra
Lieven
Veliz
Græntfjall penalties
Sara
Jason
Hjörleifur
Danny
Kæja
Alyssia

“…sends it up, but there’s no time, the whistle blasts, and we will go to penalties! Grímúlfur Gunnþórsson sinks to his haunches, Matthias Lieven breathing hard. Valtter Marvinsson comes on the pitch and ruffles the hair of Kæja Finnvarðsdóttir, who looks like she has the weight of a nation on her small shoulders right now. Johanna Álvgeirsdóttir hobbles out too, she is an excellent penalty taker and what a shame her services are out of action in this moment, it will have to fall to one of the 11 left standing, or not quite standing in Tinni Grímólfursson’s case, as the big man falls to the ground and wearily tugs at his socks. Having an exceptional tournament, but two hours of relentless pressing has him pushed to the limit. Indra Söderström talking with her replacement, Jaimes Ybarra. Tension crackling through the stands, the buoyant mood of earlier replaced by one of nerve jangling anticipation.

“Hjörleifur Reynarsson, he’s been a giant through 120 minutes, and you can see the toll it’s taken on him as he drags himself to the center spot one final time. What a contrast to Laborious Hawk, who still looks light on his feet, as they shake hands yet again, in front of the watchful eyes of Nemanja Jovancic, the Mytanar match who’s overseen a fairly clean and fair game so far, total contrast to the Snow Wolves’ Round of 16 game, but nothing less than would be expected against the ever-disciplined Marauders. The coin, a specially minted 1 króna, spins high, and Jovancic points to the Whalebone End. Another toss of the coin to determine order, Valanora look to have won the toss and will kick first. Reynarsson can barely summon the energy to shake hands a final time before turning and trudging back to his team as they assemble in the penalty circle.

“All, except Björnólfur Ernestisson, recovered from the injury that saw him miss the key group deciding tie against Saint Eleanor, who is off down to the goal, after some final words of encouragement from his stand-in, Mikkel Rúnarsson. Ernestisson has had an excellent tournament so far, but has never kept in a penalty shootout for the Snow Wolves. Indeed, this is just their second ever penalty shootout, the first coming some years back in the Rabastor Unity Trophy. Never in a competitive WCC game, although some of the young players have more experience, including in the 52nd Di Bradini Cup, which Græntfjall won, along the way defeating Adab in a tense penalty shootout, and in the Copa Rushmori Juvenils. As for Valanora, they’ve seen it all before. Both teams huddled up, going over the names that will be submitted as five brave players from each team volunteer. We can guess at some of those names, Jason Þórhallursson, Kæja Finnvarðsdóttir, but beyond that, who knows who the crucial winning kick could come down to.

“First up for Valanora is, as expected, Lothas Ludwig. The striker calmly striding to the penalty spot. Has already found the net once this game, pulling the Marauders back to all score in the second half with a composed bit of skill. Ernestisson, flapping his arms about, trying to look big, which is not exactly hard for him. Fans behind the goal baying, wolf toys being waved, lots of howling, anything to put the Vanorian striker off, but for naught, as he steps up and slots home in every composed fashion, perhaps sending Ernestisson the wrong way with his eyes and that seven plus foot reach not much use sprawling in the opposition direction as the ball fairly trickles over the line. First blood to Valanora!”

Valanora penalties
Ludwig

In a hotel room in Chromatika, some months ago.

“It’s too big, Sara!”

“It’s fine, it’ll fit, just relax.”

“No, Sara, it’s way too big! Slow down!”

“Stop freaking out, it’ll fit. Look we can just use a bit more oil.”

Bigger Mbala-Ekakia continued to panic as he watched Sara Kristoffersdóttir spoon a healthy dose of fish oil into the stewpot before adding what was, in his opinion, an excessively large helping of onion. She stirred the simmering concoction, inhaled the savory scent, and sighed, satisfied.

“Coming along nicely.”

He bit his lip to stop from speaking up lest she beat him with her stirring spoon again. The Mytanar defender was a hardy fellow, but Sara took criticism of her cooking about as well as she did critiques of her training attitude.

“Sara, can I ask you something?”

“Oh my valkyries, Bigger, it’s an onion. Let it go, man.”

“No, no. Why do you do this?”

Sara arched an eyebrow, questioningly, as she looked up from the stewpot, set on a hot plate on her hotel room floor. “Do what?”

“Cook what is basically hobo stew. You’re one of the best players for one of the best teams at one of the best leagues in the world…”

“Look who’s talking,” she said, toasting Bigger with a tilt of her glass, which contained some of the ‘wine’ she’d… no, wait that’s not enough, the ‘‘‘‘‘‘‘wine’’’’’’’ she’d been fermenting behind her radiator. Bigger toasted back gingerly, trying to ignore the impression that something was moving of its own volition within the sugary concoction in his glass. He had signed for a Mytanar national record transfer fee, and had since been a key part of the Shocker defensive unit.

“Yeah, but, you’ve been in Chromatika a while. There were those rumors about you leaving. They must… pay you. Calania Motors would’ve backed up, well, a Calania Motors™ truck to keep you. You can afford to go out for a meal, to have delivery, room service. Not to eat like you’re still back in training digs.”

Sara opened up the instant noodle flavor packet and poured it into the stewpot. Ah, home cooking… “I like my cooking.”

“So do I!” lied Bigger, not very convincingly. Her last stew had tasted like feet. Specifically, the feet of a plague victim. One who’d been going ripe for a while.

“I like to be independent. Do my own thing. It’s easy for you, lot of ‘Bigger Mbala-Ekakias’ back in Mytanija, were there? You know how many ‘Sara Ks’ there are? I had three in my grade three class. I’m an individual. I’m one of a fucking kind.”

Bigger took a sip from his glass, trying to ignore the overpowering taste of eye-of-newt. “Yes you are, Sara K, yes you are…”

“First to reply for Græntfjall is Sara Kristoffersdóttir, the industrious Wirr Tsi midfielder. She’s really coming into her own now in a starring role for the Snow Wolves, and this her biggest ever match, a World Cup quarter final. Marching towards the spot, and she straight away picks up the ball and repositions it exactly to her liking. Gives the headband a flick, spraying sweat everywhere despite the chilly ambient temperature. Bouncing from foot to foot, she looks absolutely hyped, as she sets off on a long charging run, blasts it with her left, miles high! Oh no! Not a flicker of movement from Julius Miljeteig who would have needed telescopic arms to reach that. Sara stares into space, which is where the ball ended up, and finally turns on her heel and marches back. Brushes off a consoling hand from Kjárr Þorfinnsson. Evyar Mathiasson offers a water bottle and she takes a sip with a thousand yard stare.

“Meanwhile another talented midfielder is heading down to the penalty spot, in the form of World Cup legend Laborious Hawk. Supplied the crucial late equalizer to break Snow Wolf hearts just when they looked on the cusp of an astonishing upset. How many times has he been through this process. Won’t be put off by Ernestisson waving his arms around in the goal. Sets down the ball, very determined look, short run – saved! Nearly bobbles in anyway but gathered on the rebound! Terrific full stretch dive from Björnólfur Ernestisson, Hawk went for placement over power and that meant a half-hand was just good enough to knock it down, and the gangly goalkeeper smothered it as it threatened to back-spin into the goal. And so instead of going 2–0 down, Græntfjall have a chance to square it all up. And no one is happier than Sara Kristoffersdóttir, who is roaring with delight and punching the air.”

Valanora penalties
Ludwig
Hawk
Græntfjall penalties
Sara

In a hotel bar in Háttmark, the day after the Round of 16 game.

“…and the final whistle goes! Græntfjall have beaten Nephara and will advance to their first ever World Cup quarterfinal! Oh, it was written in the stars!”

“You know, I fucking hate that.”

“Really? You masked your disappointment pretty well.”

Jason Þórhallursson looked around, and then up, as Reniira Clevinger, his Herzegovina teammate, seated herself – with all the customary difficulty of a satyr addressing a barstool made for human customers – beside him at the hotel bar. She tapped a cloven hoof on the bar for service, and then gestured it towards the screen, which was replaying footage of the game. It showed the post-match celebrations, Jason with his shirt off, wheeling Kæja around before hoisting her up on Mikkel’s shoulders. “Yeah, you look downright distraught,” snorted Reniira. Then, at the bartender, “I didn’t say stop pouring, did I?”

Jason chuckled and clapped a hand on approximately where he thought a shoulder was on a half-satyr, or in other words, about the same bony lump as she had spent much of the second half of the match driving into his ribcage whenever he came within her orbit. His body bore the bruises a day on, but then again, he knew he’d given as good as he got and she’d have a nice set of studmarks on her calf to remember him by. He respected his domestic teammate too much to console her with any ‘sporting’ words now that combat was over, however.

“No, I mean that ‘written in the stars’ bullshit.”

“Oh.” She began drinking, and he didn’t think she had any immediate plans to stop, so he continued.

“‘It was fated’, ‘it was poetry’, ‘it just had to be’. GS SuperSports+ did a twenty minute segment before the Saint Eleanor game about how fitting it was it was Igrene’s last game.”

“Maybe they’ll re-run it before the Valanora game,” Reniira joked. “You’re saying you don’t believe in fate?”

“Not really, no. I believe in the laws of physics. What goes up, must whatever.”

“Come down is, I think, the uh…”

“But anything else is just, well, coincidences. So we’ve played you guys in Round of 16 games a few times. Same region, bound to crop up more often than average. That game wasn’t ‘fated’, it wasn’t ‘meant to be’, it certainly wasn’t written in the fucking stars. It was written in blood, sweat and…”

“Tears?”

“I was going to say mud, actually.”

“Aye, I’ll drink to that.”

They clinked glasses. They’d fought the length of the pitch in Hofvinger. But when they met again in Banija, it’d be as teammates.

“And here I thought you were the great romantic.”

Jason blew a frostberry. “Tabloid gossip, I wouldn’t believe everything you read in the…”

“Hey, Jason? I really need to talk to you.” Kæja Finnvarðsdóttir had appeared, waving hesitantly at Reniira before addressing him.

“…papers.”

“…thrashes it home! Jason Þórhallursson may not be a big part of the Snow Wolves’ plans these days but he remains a first-rate penalty taker and that was absolutely clinical.”

“Yes Brian, the stats show when you go high it’s near impossible to stop – if it’s on target. And that was absolutely perfectly placed, and so fiercely struck that even had Miljeteig got a hand to it I’m not sure he could have stopped it.”

“Absolutely right, Brian, Græntfjall level it up 1–1 after two penalties for each team! And it looks like it’s Torsten Hahn, the Soldarian FC striker. He replaced Jutta Palminger in extra time. Always very difficult to have to take a penalty but doing so after being on the field only a few minutes, perhaps even harder. Hahn, sets down the ball. Nowhere near as experienced as the first two Vanorian strikers. Ernestisson, flaps his arms, dances left, right, left – right! But Hahn goes left! Thumped, not perfect placement but no way Ernestisson could get over to it, very safe penalty, excellent job by Hahn to put the Marauders back in the lead and shift the initiative back in their favor again, and the Snow Wolves need to respond…”

Valanora penalties
Ludwig
Hawk
Hahn
Græntfjall penalties
Sara
Jason

In a hotel room in Holdenberg, Eura, before the start of the tournament.

“…and then they stuck a big needle and honestly, so much pus was coming out that I thought – you’re not going to eat the rest of your carbonara?”

Amanda Guttisdóttir pushed the plate away. “I think I’m done.”

Hjörleifur Reynarsson shrugged and pulled the Cucinan cuisine towards him. He began shovelling it down. In between mouthfuls: “Now, my back, they did this thing where they cut the…”

Amanda regretted asking Hjörleifur “how he’d been doing”. Half an hour in and he hadn’t stopped talking about his latest round of surgeries and treatments. “So, in summary, pretty well, with a couple of medical issues?”

“Mhmfff,” he confirmed, cheeks bulging like a Schutzenphalian hamster.

“You didn’t fly all the way to Eura to tell me about…”

“The abscess on my groin? Gods, it was huge. Dumpling?”

She waved off the offer of the bulging white sac with a hand over her mouth.

“No, I came to ask about the World Cup.”

Amanda sighed. “Hjörleifur, we’ve been over this. The World Cup is a competition between 32, which is a big number,” she held up 3 and 2 fingers, “Teams, who all try to win…”

He shook his head. “No, I mean, you in the World Cup.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Hjörleifur, Igrene really doesn’t want me. She has Kæja now, Sara, Johanna. Danny, Kjárr, Tinni… I’m not in her plans. She made that much clear in Pasarga.”

“So? I’m the team captain. I go to KG and tell them I want someone in the 23, they’re not going to say no to me.”

“Don’t do me any favors.”

“Favors, favors, what are favors.” Hjörleifur set down his fork. “Amanda, despite appearances, I’m not a complete idiot…”

She glanced at his fork, now resting in his drink cup. “Uh huh.”

“I know sometimes it takes me longer than Emeli or Tom or Jason to work out what’s going on. I know I’m no great tactician or any kind of ician really. Maybe a physician, not sure what it is, but it sounds fun, I like fizzy stuff. I don’t want to do you any favors. I want you in the team. I want you in my team.”

“As… what? A mascot?”

“Amanda, we’re going to have some really tough games at the World Cup. These kids, they’re good. They’re also young. Remember the dumb mistakes we made when we were young? Remember how scared we were, first time we played Nephara, Eura, Farfadillis? You’ve been around the houses. …not, like, in a slutty way.”

“Hey!”

“I said not! I want you there. And not as anybody’s mascot.” He picked up his fork and resumed eating, seemingly oblivious that his steak now tasted of milk. “Promise me you’ll at least think about it before making any rash decisions?”

She gazed at her old friend as he calmly chowed his way through what appeared to be the entire agricultural product of eastern Rushmore spread out over his plate. “I promise, Hjörleifur, I will think of you before I make any rash decisions…”

“Somewhat unexpectedly, it will be captain Hjörleifur Reynarsson to take the third penalty. Brave moment from a man who’s sacrificing his body every minute he gives to this team. Even more bravely, he’s walking towards the wrong end. Emeli Vilbertsdóttir chases after him and redirects him back towards the right end. Very slow procession down towards the penalty spot, and the whole ground is rumbling, whether from his lumping strides, or the crowd going absolutely crazy as their beloved captain puts the team on his back one final time. Not normally a penalty taker but you sense he’s a man who’s out to show he’s not asking anyone to do anything he’s not willing to himself. Miljeteig stands tall, one experienced customer staring down another, and Reynarsson charges in and blasts it into the top corner!”

“Thumping penalty, Brian, Miljeteig got a bit of a hand to it and probably regrets it, nearly took it off at the wrist. High, just like we said, and rocketed into the corner.”

“The crowd are hanging off the rafters after that one as Reynarsson grabs the badge and gestures. And the challenge to respond to that will be for Ybarra, the substitute left winger who replaced Söderström. Made a good impression in his appearance, providing the cross that Hawk turned in for the equalizer, lively all through extra time. Still deafening noise here at the Florus Stadion. Ybarra stands over the ball and sizes up the massive Ernestisson in goal. Ybarra – saved! Ernestisson roars his delight, Reynarsson, who is now on bended knee, which puts him about head-high with Amanda Guttisdóttir, exchanges a high, shall we say medium, five, with her. Well struck penalty by Ybarra but Ernestisson went the right way and had strong hands, looks like it came off his forearms actually, to block it. Græntfjall with a chance to take the lead for the first time…”

Valanora penalties
Ludwig
Hawk
Hahn
Ybarra
Græntfjall penalties
Sara
Jason
Hjörleifur

In a hotel room in Altendalur, the morning of the quarterfinal.

“Ohyou’resocuteyesyouarewithyourlittlebootywooties.”

An example of the ribald knee-slapping humor that permeated Græntfjaller culture was the joke that whenever the Snow Wolves defenders’ group were training together, they were the greatest collection of footballing brainpower in the country, except for the last time Emeli Vilbertsdóttir dined alone. Certainly, the chess-playing, strategy-game enthusiast stuck out a bit from the likes of Hjörleifur Reynarsson, who had once asked to have his pizza cut in six slices because he couldn’t eat eight. And yet in the presence of little children (and cats, regardless of size thereof) she was reduced to a babbling idiot.

“I’mgonnaeatallyourtoesupyesIamohthey’resoyummygobblegobble.”

Júní screamed with delight as the cultured and intellectual left-back faked eating the infant’s booty-clad feet. Júní was the daughter of Tom Ernestisson and Elektra Lúthersdóttir; Tom, who’d visited the squad to check in on his brother, goalkeeper Björnólfur Ernestisson (a man who, in a move more befitting the average intelligence of a Snow Wolves defender, had once turned up to play for the wrong team in the Vilitan League for two seasons in a row before he noticed they had a different name) following his injury scare. Björnólfur was back in training now, but Tom had promised Emeli he’d bring ‘Junebug’ on by so she could see how the little one was growing. The two had played together at Altendalur, before Tom transferred overseas to Siovanija and Teusland; he’d since joined his brother in the Vilitan League (for the correct team, in his case).

“So I got an invite, from the club secretary. To a leaving do? Something in the works?”

Emeli picked up Júní and bounced her on her knee for a moment. “My she’s getting big. Yesyouarearen’tyougettingsobigandtalljustlikeyourdaddy!” She hugged the little one, and over her shoulder, nodded.

“Trying to keep it on the hush for now.”

It made sense: announcing she was leaving the club while playing a crucial game in said club’s city was likely to lead to the Chessmen’s fans voicing their displeasure, and given they tended to come to the stadium wielding steam irons, possibly demonstrating it in other ways.

“No problem. Pastures new?”

“Zwangzug. Sporting Esper.”

“No shit! Well, I can see that…”

Altendalur and Zwangzug had historic links. Zwangzug had been the first country to supply foreign players to the newly international GPL, when a couple of college graduates had headed to Altendalur (one of them, Ryan Lippe-Berg, still held the record for the fastest red card in GPL history; they were considering building a statue of him hacking Jason Þórhallursson in the shins outside the Whalebone End). Rarely had talent flowed the other way given the disparity in the two countries’ footballing pedigree, but then, Tom wasn’t surprised that Emeli would fit in well in the famously chess-playing country.

“I’d raise a toast to you, Emz, you deserve it, but…” He didn’t have a drink on hand, except for a sippy cup with a cartoon bunny rabbit, containing some milk for Júní.

“Ohlookatyourlittlesippycupohyou’resogoshdarncute.”

“Cheers.”

“And there’s a surprise. Danny Oddkellsson. It’s not Emeli Vilbertsdóttir, it’s not Tinni Grímólfursson, and it’s not Kæja Finnvarðsdóttir, who they must be saving back for the fifth penalty in a very risky move. It’s young Danny Oddkellsson, the bustling midfielder whose first major tournament this is, what a brave volunteer to take this crucial fourth penalty. He looks energetic chewing gum vigorously, bouncing on the spot. He was a penalty-taker for the Snow Pups in their CRJ and DBC runs, and I believe he scored every one of his penalties there, so let’s hope he can find the target tonight and give the senior team a 3–2 lead, and a chance to win. Oddkellsson, slow shuffling run, trying to watch Miljeteig, send him the wrong way, Miljeteig dives as Oddkellsson dinks it, and it barely crawls into the post and out! Oh no! A miss! He seemed to outthink himself there, tried to be clever, rather than going for raw power, and it remains 2-all.

“It’s another substitute for Valanora, Matthias Lieven, came on late in regulation for Gideon Riemann as the Marauders looked to refresh their midfield. Fairly quiet during the game, but a chance to make a big name for himself now. Lieven, from the penalty spot. Valanora 2, Græntfjall 2, here at the Florus Stadion. Ernestisson… is beaten! Lieven fairly leathered that straight into the back of the net, Ernestisson ended up sitting down as he went the wrong way and couldn’t correct, and the contrasting styles have contrasting rewards. Oddkellsson can’t look, he’s got his head in his hands, Emeli Vilbertsdóttir is talking to him and giving him some words of encouragement, we have to remember, this young man volunteered.

“But it remains 3–2 and Græntfjall must score here to remain in the World Cup. It is Kæja Finnvarðsdóttir, just as we expected. Assisted on both goals tonight, her free-kick finding Röskvi Tyrfingsson who broke his goal drought open finally. She’s having a solid tournament but it could all down to this one kick here tonight. The short, blonde, midfielder, daughter of a dockworker right here in Altendalur, played for the Chessmen for four seasons before moving to Pasarga, but tonight she’s very much a home favorite.”

“I’m looking at the Snow Wolves players, Brian, they’re linked arm in arm, Amanda is hiding her face, she can’t watch, Tinni chewing voraciously, Mikkel vigorously applauding, Jason with a stoical expression. Spare a thought for Johanna, watching from the sidelines knowing she might perhaps have taken that penalty in place of Danny. Nothing that can be done now.”

“We’re ready. Kæja Finnvarðsdóttir, to keep Græntfjall in the World Cup. She sets off, fires, and with implacable calm scoops a chip shot straight over the diving Miljeteig. Ice in her veins there, and the stadion crowd comes alive again. Röskvi and Sigurbergur dancing, Emmely and Valtter embrace. And on we go, into sudden-death penalties…”

Valanora penalties
Ludwig
Hawk
Hahn
Ybarra
Lieven
Græntfjall penalties
Sara
Jason
Hjörleifur
Danny
Kæja

On the center circle of the pitch.

They stood in a line. Tinni looped his arm around Emeli’s shoulders, and when Grímúlfur joined on the other side, she ended with her feet dangling several inches above the ground. Valtter and Kjárr were at least a little better matched for size. Jason saw that Johanna hadn’t joined the group and gestured her over to stand with them, which she did, reluctantly; she accepted the offer of some gum from Kæja, who blew a slow bubble at her friend then snapped it. He laughed and rubbed her head for luck. Amanda still couldn’t watch, arm in arm with Sara, who cupped her head and rolled her eyes at Sigurbergur. And on the end of the line, arms crossed, stood Igrene Cantor.

“Emeli,” murmured Grímúlfur. “Is it true you’re moving?”

“Grímí, can we talk about this later? Not like, right in the middle of…”

“No, I just heard, and I wanted to say, well, I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, I’ll especially miss the way you dangled be my shoulders so I couldn’t breathe.”

“When did I do that?”

“Right now!”

“Sorry Emeli.”

“No don’t…”

As she picked herself facefirst off the pitch, Emeli missed the actual moment that Pánfilo Veliz struck the ball, but her head snapped in time to see the save. Balletic was not a word that came to mind when one first saw Björnólfur Ernestisson. But at full stretch, adjusting late to bring his weak hand up and solidly claw the well-hit shot out, there was something beautiful to behold in it. She would have celebrated, but Tinni trampled straight over her as he charged forward in jubilation.

“Thanks, for talking with me the other night,” said Kæja.

“No problem, kid,” said Jason.”

“I don’t know why everyone thinks you’re such a dick. You’re not that bad.”

“Give it time,” deadpanned Johanna.

The stadium was near rioting. Julia felt for Veliz, the aging star, as he had to do the long slow walk back with a baying Wolf Pack behind him cheering his failure. Julia had got to play, adding a burst of speed, but then was taken off as the Snow Wolves had to shut up shop in the final five minutes. She wasn’t sure what felt worse, being unable to contribute in the penalty shoot-out, or contributing, and missing. She looked at Veliz’s face. Yeah, she was sure, actually. And even surer when she turned to the woman beside her to comment, and found herself alone. Ahead of her, Alyssia Noahsdóttir strode out.

“Alyssia Noahsdóttir, is the surprising name on whom all of Græntfjall’s hopes now rest. Amidst a team of stars and national heroes, the quiet little right-back who’s struggled to really assert herself this tournament and nearly lost her place to Sigurbergur Geirröðursson. Right-back traditionally Græntfjall’s biggest revolving door. The crowd are still cheering after that Ernestisson save, of course, they’ll be cheering until next week. But there’s still the matter of the 3–3 tie to break, and there’s nothing Ernestisson can do now, watching from the sidelines. The defender sets down the ball and walks back four purposeful paces. Can’t here the whistle above the crowd noise. Glance at Jovanovic, helplessly. Alyssia Noahsdóttir, with the world at her feet, steps up, fires…”

Valanora penalties
Ludwig
Hawk
Hahn
Ybarra
Lieven
Veliz
Græntfjall penalties
Sara
Jason
Hjörleifur
Danny
Kæja
Alyssia

In the changing room, after the game.

Emeli was crying, whereas Hjörleifur’s eyeballs couldn’t move. The tiny nod of appreciation he gave Amanda as she paused before him and touched his shoulder was a heroic effort in itself.

“You really don’t believe in destiny?”

Jason looked up from untying his boots to see Kæja standing over him.

“No. I believe a lot of crazy crap happens in no particular order and then we die, so let’s have fun first.”

Danny and Sara were competing to see who could get drunk before even leaving the stadium. They were both winning.

Hobbling, Johanna slipped in beside Igrene on the bench. “You realize what this means?”

“I think I have a vague idea.”

“‘Igrene Cantor’s last match’ is a two-part special now.”

She shook her head. “I hope you don’t take this personally, but…”

“You can’t wait to leave this crazy country?”

Igrene nodded.

by **Farfadillis** » Fri Jun 17, 2022 9:28 pm

Who will be in the final? Who will not? This is your cut-off for the first semifinal.

by **Farfadillis** » Fri Jun 17, 2022 9:29 pm

Who will be in the final? Who will not? This is your cut-off for the second semifinal.

by **Tumbra** » Sat Jun 18, 2022 7:28 am

Tumbra 0-1 Græntfjall

TMB (4-2-3-1): 1 - Nick Barker; 2 - Ryan Hughes (18 - Nicholas Moss, 74'), 4 - Stephen Kerr, 14 - Ian Ashburn, 19 - Chris Carter; 6 - Trudy Harrison, 8 - Vincent Hicks, 10 - Phil Cole; 7 - George Hilton (17 - Valerie Wells, 63'), 9 - Robin Vaughn - inj (21 - Lynne Crossley, 35'), 11 - Nick Riordan

GRÆ (4-4-2): 1 - Björnólfur Ernestisson; 2 - Alyssia Noahsdóttir, 4 - Hjörleifur Reynarsson (21 - Eyvar Mathiasson, 70'), 5 - Grímúlfur Gunnþórsson, 3 - Emeli Vilbertsdóttir; 18 - Tinni Grímólfursson (17 - Valtter Marvinsson, 84'), 16 - Amanda Guttisdóttir, 7 - Sara Kristoffersdóttir, 14 - Vanessa Marvinsdóttir; 10 - Kæja Finnvarðsdóttir; 8 - Röskvi Tyrfingsson (9 - Jason Þórhallursson, 63')

TMB scorers: Nil
GRÆ scorers: Sara Kristoffersdóttir (77')

Player of the Match: Sara Kristoffersdóttir [GRÆ]

OOC note: As my final RP of the cycle I thought I'd provide some closure for the various RP lines I'd started over the cycle. One, especially — the Northlands one — I didn't manage to develop enough, because I simply couldn't find the motivation to build up even more characters than I was already doing for defender meets midfielder. Congratulations to Græntfjall and Turori for advancing to the Final; I wish both competitors the best.

Tumbra
Previous Appearances: 2 First/Latest Appearance: 89/90 Best Result: Quarter-finals (90)
Captain: Robin Vaughn Key Player: Nick Riordan
Next Match: vs Brenecia @ Ferdullaele
MATCH 183 — Six matches ago, if you'd gone on the street and told any Tumbran that they'd be in the third-placed playoff, having beaten The Holy Empire, Pemecutan and Valanora to get here, you'd probably get slapped in the face. That alone should tell you how lucky Tumbra are to be here. In the final four of the World Cup. After just three World Cup entrances in five cycles, and a hundred and eighty-two senior level competitive matches.

Yes, Tumbra's luck ran out against the hosts, Græntfjall; but that simply cannot gloss over the explosive start Tumbra had to the World Cup. An opening-day beatdown of third-ranked side Valanora, the ever-present juggernaut of world football. Two more-or-less more dominant wins over Jeruselem, the top-ranked team in Pot 3, and Zeta Reka, our Esportivan neighbours. A stunning comeback over Pemecutan, the second-ranked team in the world. Resisting the deluge of attacks from The Holy Empire, and holding on to their nerves to beat the Imperials on penalties. No matter how it ends, this has been a summer of memories; as Tumbra broke through to the semi-finals for the first (and hopefully not last!) time, on the back of personalities such as Nick Riordan, Stephen Kerr, Trudy Harrison, Valerie Wells, Lynne Crossley, Susan Monaghan and others. The future of Tumbran football, hopefully, will be bright; as their recent successes in youth football will show.

Tumbra's one hundredth and eighty-third competitive match will be an important one. It could have been the World Cup final; but regardless, Tumbra will have played the maximum seven matches at a World Cup. It will mark the first ever time Tumbra places in the top four at a World Cup. It will also mark, after the tournament, Tumbra's highest-ever ranking in the world — third or fourth, depending on the result of the match in Ferdullaele, the ex-capital of the entity known as Farfadillis. And it will also mark the departure from the national team of Ryan Hughes (though there are rumours personalities like Harry Henderson and Nigel Harris are set to follow, Hughes is the only one who has confirmed his retirement from international football after the tournament). One of the few members of the Century Club — comprising just five members, but hopefully with many more to add to its lifespan over future tournaments — Hughes dutifully served the country at left-back a hundred and eight times at left-back, a tough-tackling, no-nonsense defender who played a major part in mentoring Ian Ashburn. His farewell will likely leave a gaping hole at left-back; one that Yuan Zilai will have to patch up soon if he is to keep bringing success to the team. A generational change is on the cards — the generation of Lennon, Hughes, Vaughn and McGrath will soon be giving way to the one of Riordan, Kerr, Harrison and Wells — and this match, more than anything, will be the beginning of a long farewell to the pioneers of the Black Eagles in international football.

Match 183 may not be the most important match in world football — certainly, almost all of the eyes will be focused on the final between Græntfjall and Turori in Háttmark, and rightly so — but for Tumbra, it will certainly be the most important match of their lives so far.

Brenecia
Previous Appearances: 17 First/Latest Appearance: 70/90 Best Result: Champions (80)
Captain: Athelney Shrine Key Player: Kendra Carpenter
vs Tumbra: Third-place play-off @ Ferdullaele
THE PATRIOTS — It's probably fair to say that Brenecia were not much expected to make it this far. With an ongoing political crisis at home, and the imposition of martial law, the oil-poor nation has definitely seen better days since winning the World Cup twenty-two years ago. Football-wise, with the thinnest Brenecian squad in generations — according to the Brenecians themselves — many were expecting either a group stage exit or a second round exit.

Somehow, though, Brenecia have made it this far. It took them a narrow 2-1 win over the Squornshelous Remnant States to confirm their progress to the second round on the last matchday of the group stage. In doing so, they'd pipped Ko-oren, whom they'd lost 3-0 to, to the group title and avoiding a second round class with Turori in doing so. It then took them two penalty shootouts to separate themselves from their opponents in the knockout rounds. A 7-6 nailbiter over Kandorith, after Kandorith turned on the charm and attacked helter-skelter to turn a 2-0 deficit into a 2-2 draw; then a 4-2 win on penalties over the hosts, Farfadillis.

Is it luck? Is it skill? Is it a weird mix of both that will see Brenecia attempt to reach their best finish in a World Cup since the time they won the World Cup twenty-two years ago? Yes. Is Tumbra ready for the hard-tackling, hard-playing style of the Patriots (interestingly, sponsored by Tumbra's richest businessman John Ashburn)? History suggests maybe; Tumbra have faced the Patriots once before, in the quarter-finals of their victorious Campionato Esportiva 31 campaign; and that time, the Black Eagles came out 1-0 victors en route to their first regional title. It's not the Campionato now, though; and it's a whole new generation of players that have graduated and are well on the way to becoming Brenecian stars. The old names like Kendra Carpenter and Clovette Bravender are still there, amidst a new generation of talents like Rajmund Sitko, Siobhan Baker and Sylvia Marusak, providing one last test for Yuan Zilai's Black Eagles. It will be a test, that, for Tumbra, stands between them and being regarded as the third-strongest side in world football; for Brenecia, it will be a test that they can succeed, whatever is going on in their home country.

Lineup for Brenecia vs Tumbra, World Cup 91 Third-Place Playoff

TMB (4-2-3-1): 1 - Nick Barker; 2 - Ryan Hughes, 4 - Stephen Kerr, 5 - Harry Henderson, 3 - Nigel Harris; 6 - Trudy Harrison, 16 - Andrew Fisher, 23 - Susan Monaghan; 17 - Valerie Wells, 21 - Lynne Crossley; 11 - Nick Riordan

Bench: 12 - Andrew Taylor, 13 - Victoria Jones; 14 - Ian Ashburn, 18 - Nicholas Moss, 19 - Chris Carter, 20 - Raymond Perry; 8 - Vincent Hicks, 10 - Phil Cole, 15 - Mark Finnemore; 7 - George Hilton; 22 - Bruce Nolan

Injured: Robin Vaughn

by **Turori** » Sun Jun 19, 2022 11:42 am

Turori Outlast Brenecia to Face Græntfjall in World Cup 91 Final

La Fantás, Ferdullaele, Farfadillis :: The Turori National Team returned to the heart of the Farfafiero North-East, the closest geographical point to the Island Emirate of Turori and the home of la Vherderoja - the National Team of Farfadillis with a motivation as strong as ever to make up for their shocking defeat in the World Cup 85 Quarter Final. It was then - also in Farfadillis - where the Turori National Team was defeated on penalty kicks by the National Team of the Free Republics prematurely ending what many felt could have been a first ever World Cup Title run for the Eels. Having now cleared that hurdle with their 3-0 Quarter Final victory over Zwangzug, Tarek Edgeli looked to lead the Turori National Team to the World Cup Final for the second time in four cycles - though they would face a difficult opposition in Brenecia. During five previous meetings against Brenecia, the Turori National Team only had two recorded victories but both of those were achieved by Turori's National Cocoabo Squad. Turori's National Citizen Squad had not only never beaten the Esportiva-based Nation during a World Cup Cycle - but the Citizen Squad had never even scored a goal against Brenecia in three previous World Cup and World Cup Qualifying matches against the Patriots.

The most recent meeting between the two Nations offered perhaps some hope that there was a change in momentum coming, but the 0-0 draw between Turori and Brenecia was nearly 10 cycles prior during the World Cup 82 Group Stage. Now, having broken free from the shadow of their more highly-regarded colonial relations, Turori and Brenecia would try to leverage the flame from the Stadium on Fire en route to the World Cup Final. With both sides having previously achieved their greatest success through a victory over The Holy Empire, they would now have the opportunity to fight head to head for the honor of top colonial nation in the multiverse.

While Edgeli's Eels had a comfortable Quarter Final experience in defeating Zwangzug 3-0 to book their place in the Semi-Final, it was a much more difficult match up for Brenecia who had to contend with the host nation Farfadillis before having the chance to face off against Turori in the Semi-Final. While the Eels were able to rest players late on in the going against Zwangzug, the Brenecia v. Farfadillis matchup was a high energy, high stress affair for the full duration of the match through full time where the scoreline was tied 1-1, then extra time after goals from Danand Tristam and Ígnîgo Çí Xôrí had extended the match once more - then finally through to a penalty shootout where Brenecia silenced the local fans through the heroics of goalkeeper Cairbre Dundalk and the eventual winning tallies from Katua Byrne and Skaidrina Briggs. While the job was certainly done well for the patriots they will have used up an entirely different level of their energy reserves when compared with Edgeli's Turori National Team.

From the kick off of the World Cup 91 Semi-Final, neither side appeared to show any clear signs of either exhaustion from having played through a lengthy extra time and penalty shootout in their previous match in the case of Brenecia, or of excess energy and confidence in the case of the Turorian's who had waltzed through the Quarter Finals in comfortable fashion. There was one player on the Turorian side who was beaming however, the incredibly good-looking, diacritic loving, super strong, powerful, pacey and skillful midfielder Tulaki Rauogba. Rauogba, who plays their club footsport for one of the greatest clubs in the multiverse, René Skaé, had their own fan club in the stands lighting fires of their own throughout the opening moments of the match and they were rewarded when Rauogba dispossessed the Patriots in the 21st minute and began a charge up the right side of the pitch. Drawing in the Brenecian defenders, Rauogba then audaciously split them and maintained possession as they crossed into the box from the side. The Farfite based midfielder wound up to shoot but then cleverly hit the ball with the outside of their foot instead, as the ball dashed across the goal and onto the foot of Turakia Diijelhma who simply redirected it into the back of the net to give Turori a 1-0 lead.

It was the first ever goal scored by the Turori National Team against Brenecia by a player of non-Cocoabo origin and it was yet another big moment for Diijelhma this season. The long time Yeaddin Owls Striker had switched home to Turori to play for Cednia Beach AFC four seasons prior and had established themselves as one of the Coconut Fans favorite players. Diijelhma's form had peaked during the recently completed Vilitan Stellar Division Campaign that saw Cednia Beach AFC victorious on the final matchday to complete a remarkable second half run to climb from 7th to 1st in the Stellar Division table, winning the Vilitan League for the first time in over 20 seasons. It was the first and biggest Turorian triumph of the cycle - but not the only one. For the first time in Vilitan League history, both the Vilitan Stellar Division and the Vilitan Cup were won by teams from the Island Emirate of Turori - with Mliona-Lpaka AFC stunning favored side Eastal Lunar in the Vilitan Cup final to complete the Turorian Sweep. As if that wasn't enough, it was even coming up Eelskin Brown in the Tropicorp Youth Challenge where the Eelandii Academy, the primary feeder and prospect academy for the Turori National Team, would prove that the future is perhaps just as bright as the present for the Turori National Team by winning the Youth League for the first time in their history.

As play continued at the Stadium on Fire in Farfadillis, Brenecia continued to press through for a way to get a goal past Derizi Amatopa and keep their World Cup dreams alive. With the team playing a perfect defensive formation, however, Turori National Team head coach did not feel the need to make any changes at the half.

Brenecia would control the possession in the second half and would have a run through just passed the hour mark with 4 corners in quick succession as they twice forced Amatopa into a critical scoreline-preserving save. With the pressure still coming, Edgeli would finally call to the sidelines and look to slow the pace of the game back down to where the Eels preferred it, making a pair of substitutions back-to-back over the course of 3 minutes to break up the play. The first move was to introduce star attacker and possessor Loala Inkabu from the Euraleague in place of Inura Forests attacking midfielder Cuoabaza Orani'aoa. Two minutes later it would be Edgeli's namesake Karek leaving the field in favor of the veteran midfielder and set piece specialist Daliora Toru'u.

The expertly timed managerial interventions would do exactly the job they were intended to, squashing the energy of momentum that Brenecia had built up and equalized the mood in the stadium heading into the final ten minutes of play. The changes allowed the Turori National Team to push Brenecia from a calm, confident attack into a more nervous and desperate approach as the clock began to wind down. This was exactly the scenario that Edgeli had been hoping for and the Turori National Team would withstand the pressure. As the final whistle blew it was a third consecutive knockout round shutout for Derizi Amatopa (and 14th of the World Cup 91 Cycle) and a 6th goal of the World Cup Finals for Turakiia Diijelhma that would vault the Eels back into the World Cup Final. As the players celebrated on the pitch, back in the media room the comparisons had already begun. With the other Semi-Final matchup having already been completed, it was known that it would not be a head-to-head showdown between the two remaining "T" nations in the World Cup Finals, but instead, a trip for the Turori National Team over to Rushmore where they would face co-host nation Græntfjall for the first time ever at the World Cup Finals... in the 91st World Cup Final.

 Turori 1 - 0 Brenecia	
	Turori Goals:	:: 22' Turakia Diijelhma              
	Stats :: Turori	:: Possession: 46%:: Shots: 4:: Corners: 9 :: Brenecia :: Possession: 54%:: Shots: 3:: Corners: 7
	Turori Lineup ::	Derizi Amatopa, Amakli Inuro'o, Moumouni Verre'elali, Karek Edgeli (Daliora Toru'u 78'), Planio’o Nrujsa, Cuoabaza Orani’aoa (Loala Inkabu 76'), Kiidallen Aeroluzzi, Naraiza Ruaplal, Tulaki Rauogba, Nua'oma Aikiki, Turakia Diijelhma

World Cup 91 - Final :: Turori v. Græntfjall

For a Couple of Teams that have Never played before, they sure have played each other a lot. The World Cup 91 Final will be the first time that the Island Emirate of Turori and the White Winter Queendom of Græntfjall will face each other at the World Cup Finals. For Græntfjall it marks just their third appearance at the World Cup Finals. Without considering nations that competing during World Cup 1 through World Cup 10 including Crosshill, Jurassica and Al Quds, it is extremely rare for a Nation to reach the World Cup Final so soon after making their first ever appearance in the World Cup Finals Stage. Of course the nation of Pemecutan recently accomplished this feat just one cycle prior before Losing to the Holy Empire in the World Cup 90 Final. World Cup 90 was just the second ever appearance at the Finals for the White Myna and resulted in their first ever appearance in the World Cup Final. Prior to Pemeuctan you have to go all the way back to World Cup 79 to find a nation who has done what Græntfjall have done - when Bonesea advanced to the World Cup 79 final in just their third cycle, only to lose to Schottia in the Final. Following with that trend, the most recent side to win the World Cup Final in only their third trip to the finals or less was Wight who lifted the 65th World Cup Trophy.

While Turori and Græntfjall avoided each other during the World Cup 89 and World Cup 90 Finals, the odds of the two teams facing each other would increase every single round that went by during World Cup 91 in Græntfjall and Farfadillis. However, it was not until the final whistle blew on the Turori National Team's 1-0 victory over Brenecia in the World Cup Semi-Final at La Fantas, the Stadium on Fire, did the first ever World Cup Finals matchup between Turori and Græntfjall become official.

Yet while The Eels and the White Snow will compete on the field at the World Cup Finals for the first time at the Estadio Fútbol De Musarañas De Oro in Háttmark, the two nations are actually quite familiar with competing head to head and are actually the Turori National Team's most common competitor in all competitions during the previous four World Cup cycles.

The first major matchup between Turori and Græntfjall actually came back in the third place playoff for Eagle's Cup 9. Both nations were coming off disappointing Cup Final losses with Græntfjall having been defeated in the Cup of Champions final by Banija and the Turori National Team having lost the Cocoa-bo Challenge Trophy final to regional rivals Valanora. While Banija and Valanora were off to Eels Park to contest the Eagle's Cup Final, Turori and Græntfjall were left to play the final match of the tournament - the Bronze Medal match which in a rare quirk of the Eagle's Cup is actually played after the Gold Medal Game - allowing time for the teams from that match to arrive at the Eagle's Club location in Eelandii and for all three teams to join each other on a medal podium following the completion of the Gold Medal Game.

While most consolation matches between third placed teams often find themselves relegated well below the footnotes of history, this particular one may at least remain a proper footnote as the Turori National Team coaching staff under the leadership of Klaillal Tuirma would call up a young goalkeeper prospect to make their first ever National Team start in the match: Derizi Amatopa.

After being trained up at the Turori National Team's feeder Academy in Eelandii, Amatopa was offered a professional contract with local side Sporta Eelandii once they turned 16 years of age. However, as the Sporta Eelandii Nationals had just been relegated from the Vilitan Declasse Division, Amatopa decided to look elsewhere and found a home in the EuraLeague with Revolutionaries. After riding along the locker room at the Olympic Games but never seeing any match time, Amatopa was drafted in as a reserve player for Eagle's Cup 9.

Amatopa's first career start for the Turori National Team was about as low stress as it could get for a 17 year old debutant. While there was absolutely a prize on the line: The Eagle's Cup Bronze Medal, and while there were absolutely tons of people watching - the atmosphere was far more colloquial at the arena with both teams having made changes to their lineup introducing a number of players, like Amatopa, who were just happy to be starting a game.

Græntfjall themselves were in a transition heading into the 9th Eagle's Cup competition as the former coaching staff of Sigtryggur Brynjólfursson and Særún Toresdóttir were relieved of their duties after an underwhelming performance at the Copa Rushmori. Due to scheduling conflicts and the logistics of participating in the Eagle's Cup, caretaker coach Torsten Oliversson called a team consisting entirely of players based in the Græntfjaller Premier League allowing opportunities for some players to jump into the spotlight who might normally have not been granted that opportunity - much like Turori's 17 year old goalkeeper Derizi Amatopa. One such player was 22 year old Elektra Lúthersdóttir who entered the competition with just one career appearance for the Snow Wolves but would play their way onto the Overall Eagle's Cup Best XI by the end of the tournament. While some players like Amatopa and Lúthersdóttir were breaking onto the National Team stage at the very start of long and succesful careers, others like Dögg Ymirsdóttir were just proud to put on the Nations colors one more time in their career.

Græntfjall would get on the board first with Ásvarður Bergmundursson's 24th minute tally - the first goal ever conceded for the Eels by Turori's Derizi Amatopa. However, Turori would not concede and fought back quickly when just minutes later Meldi'ita Mungwaii fired past Kauko Jorgesson to level the scores. Jorgesson, the most capped goalkeeper on the Græntfjaller roster heading into the match, had taken over the goalkeeping duties from 25 year old Christian Einvarðursson.

With the scoreline level at 1-1 heading into the second half it is often rumored that temporary Snow Wolves head coach Torsten Oliversson had decided it would be more sporting for their side to lose "If it came down to it" rather than fight to keep the scores level and potentially delay the medal ceremony for the teams coming over from the Final at Eels Park. As such, when the Turori National Team scored just five minutes into the second half through Biliki Rona'atu'i - the Snow Wolves appeared to switch off and not press on the attack again in any large numbers. Meldi'ita Mungwaii would add a third for Turori - their second of the match, as the Eels would claim the Eagle's Cup Bronze Medal in a 3-1 victory, the first of many to come for Derizi Amatopa.

Of course, the rise of Derizi Amatopa as Turori's #1 goalkeeper is well documented. The next two cycles alone were impressive indicators of what was to come for the young Turorian who would win the Olympic Gold Medal, Under-21 World Cup and the EuraLeague after taking over as starting goalkeeper at Revolutionaries and earning Goalkeeper of the Season at just 18 years of age. During the World CUp 88 Qualifying campaign Amatopa would take on increased responsibility behind veteran goalkeeper Wiyauw An'maude and would take over for the Cedniavella netminder after a collision in the box brought on a concussion protocol discussion during Turori's 3-2 World Cup 88 Semi-Final victory over Banija. Now, Amatopa has full control of the Gloves for Turori having started every match of the World Cup 91 Finals, conceding just one goal in the previous five games since the shocking opener that the Eels won 5-4.

Following that Bronze Medal Game in Eagle's Cup 9, Græntfjaller Elektra Lúthersdóttir would make a switch to the Yeaddin Owls in the Vilitan League, having impressed the teams scouts who were in attendance at the Eagle's Cup Bronze Medal Game. Lúthersdóttir would help bring pride back to the Lirai Asku Castle, leading the team to winning the Season 66 Vilitan Cup - the first major silverware for the historic Northern Vilitan side in 45 cycles.

Over the next four cycles, Turori and Græntfjall would become regular opponent at the Eagle Cup, amassing a total of nine head to head appearances including two consecutive runnings where the two teams would play twice in the group stage then meet again in a Cup Final later in the competition. During the XI Eagle's Cup Competition the two sides would play what was, at the time, the most meaningful match they had ever contested. While the first ever meeting between the two sides was just for a Bronze Medal, this time they would clash for the Cocoa-bo Challenge Trophy with the winner moving on to the Eagle's Cup Gold Medal Game. It was the first ever Challenge Trophy to be contested in Banija as the two sides who had already played twice in the group stage would face off at Star Field, Moravica with a real trophy on the line. It would be in Banija where Græntfjall would record their first ever victory over the Turori National Team - saving it for the first ever game where it truly mattered, claiming real silverware and moving on to the final of another major competition. While Græntfjall would be defeated in the Eagle's Cup Final by Tequilo the result would still see Græntfjall placed higher than Turori on the Eagle's Cup X Podium.

After a succesful cycle for both Turori and Græntfjall, they would graduate from the Cocoabo Challenge Trophy for Eagle's Cup XI and instead meet up in the 12th Cup of Champions, splitting the group stage results with each team going into their opponents stadium and stealing three points - though both would advance through to the knockout round, taking care of their regional opposition in the Semi-Finals before meeting again in the 12th Cup of Champions final. While Græntfjall had contested the Cup of Champions two cycles prior it was the Turori National Team's first ever appearance in the Cup of Champions Final and goals from Turakia Diijelhma and Kala'a Yuliizala would be enough to overcome the Snow Wolves who were relegated to the Eagle's Cup Bronze Medal game for the second time in three cycles.

Overall in nine matchups between the two nations exclusively as part of the Eagle's Club family of tournaments, the Turori National Team have a winning record against Græntfjall. However, when that matchup is also a cup Final the two sides are on level terms with Græntfjall having won the Cocoabo Challenge Trophy over Turori, and the Eels having won the Cup of Champions over the Snow Wolves. Now the two sides will meet one more time with the ultimate prize on the line in the 91st World Cup Final at the GT Estadio Fútbol De Musarañas De Oro in Háttmark, Græntfjall.

by **Graintfjall** » Sun Jun 19, 2022 6:05 pm

Snow Wolves’ historic campaign gets a tiny bit more historic: “we’ve got history coming out our asses right now” says Reynarsson

Græntfjall will play in the World Cup final. A sentence that a mere ten years ago would have brought the same perplexed laughter as one like ‘there’s no such things as krakens’. Even two years ago, as Græntfjall limped home from Vilita with a solitary point to show for their group stage exit, the idea of a World Cup campaign that carried the team all the way to the final would have seemed comically improbable. And yet, in a little under a week, at the GT Estadio Fútbol De Musarañas De Oro in Háttmark, the Snow Wolves will face Turori, former World Cup champions vying for a second trophy as they chase their Vilitan Cove betters’ trophy haul. Do not adjust your sets, do not fear the reaper. This is real.

They progressed by way of a semifinal at the Grander International Arena, Háttmark. That match itself historic, marking one of the least seasoned semifinal pairings in modern World Cup history. For both Græntfjall and Tumbra, it marked a maiden World Cup semifinal and the biggest game of each nation’s respective footballing lives. In front of a tense crowd knowing the game was laden with meaning, it pitted together two teams who have been on the ascendancy in youth football, both having the Under-18 and Under-21 ‘double’ sufficiently recent memory that winners of the Di Bradini Cup and RTC Trophy were among those suiting up for both senior teams on the night; but who had yet to dream of anything like a World Cup final.

Given those stakes, it’s a pity the actual game wasn’t, then, of higher quality.

Unlike Græntfjall’s ill-starred bout with Nephara in the Round of 16, the pitch and conditions could not be blamed. It was fiercely cold, with the early winter frost (in Græntfjall, summer tends to fold straight into winter; autumns last approximately one afternoon – this year, it fell on a Thursday between 3.17PM and 8.53PM) crackling underfoot; light rain did fall sporadically, but the heavy skies held back their worst. The pitch itself held up. More to blame seemed an unfortunate though understandable reticence on both teams’ part. An early goal could have blown the game open, but when Björnólfur Ernestisson swiped a Vincent Hicks drive over the bar in the 23rd minute of the game, it marked the first shot on goal by either team.

An unfortunate injury did not help. The clash between left-back Emeli Vilbertsdóttir and right-winger Robin Vaughn, respectively arguably the two teams’ players of the tournament coming into the match, was highly anticipated, but Vaughn’s early runs were speculative and lacking his usual spark, and it soon became clear he was not operating on full fitness. After just 35 minutes he was limping off. Lynne Crossley did her best and had a couple of sights on goal, but never seriously tested Vilbertsdóttir. The Black Eagles’ best chance of the first half came through Nick Riordan, on whose back their offensive hopes clearly rested with Vaughn’s departure; he made an excellent run to reel in a slightly strong through-ball from Hicks, wrongfooting Grímúlfur Gunnþórsson and firing from a tight angle, but the tall Ernestisson dropped low quickly and blocked the shot, lunging forward to smother the rebound barely an inch before Riordan reached it.

It takes twenty-two to tango* and the Snow Wolves did not much pull their weight in the first half. Mentally and emotionally exhausted after their two knockout wins (but then, Tumbra had also slayed a giant in Pemecutan and won through a penalty shootout battle against an all-time great in The Holy Empire)? Or just cowed by the occasion? Sara Kristoffersdóttir was uncharacteristically limited in her touches through 45 minutes, effectively shut down by a strong pressing role played by Trudy Harrison. Perhaps predictably, the best chance of the half came from a set-piece: penalty shoot-out heroine Alyssia Noahsdóttir landed her delivery inch-perfect and Hjörleifur Reynarsson outmuscled Stephen Kerr to the ball, but his header was well saved by a sharp reaction from Nick Barker, who could only have seen the ball at the final split-second.

The frustrating first half gave way to a more open second one, but while neither team had really put a foot wrong in the first 45 minutes, the second produced more chances more through errors than through brilliant creativity. Tinni Grímólfursson has been in bulldozing form through the tournament but was merely dozing when he allowed Riordan to slip through to a Phil Cole ball over the top that Riordan controlled well, but Ernestisson came off his line lightning quick and the rushed shot was not Riordan’s best connection, comfortably saved. A rare Reynarsson lapse similarly turned over a routine clearance to Cole with Ernestisson well out of position, but Cole seemed not to be able to believe his luck, and spent so long contemplating the strange vicissitudes of the universe that he didn’t notice Alyssia sliding in to make the recovery tackle.

At the other end, Ian Ashburn misplayed a pass to Chris Carter, and Emeli pounced, finding Amanda Guttisdóttir in space to fire a hard snap shot that was bundled out for a corner by the tireless Barker; from the corner, Kæja Finnvarðsdóttir served a whipping cross that found Grímúlfur, who should have done better with his header. The brief sequence seemed to finally wake up the Black Eagles, who responded with more energy. Crossley cut inside from a sharp run but found little power in her shot; Carter had power enough to decapitate a few spectators ten rows back when she turned provider and played an excellent pass into space for him to run on to; and Nicholas Moss, replacing Tumbra’s defensive veteran Ryan Hughes, nearly made the most of his very first touch of the ball, sending a ball over the top that forced Ernestisson’s best save when he rushed out to block Riordan’s stinging half-volley, superbly taken on the bounce by the striker. Something had to break: more pity, after they proved the driving force in bringing the game to life, that it had to be Tumbran hearts.

Sara Kristoffersdóttir’s goal was not an all-timer. But she will doubtless look back on it as her most special. A sequence of five one-touch passes – Ernestisson finding Emeli, who linked up with Eyvar Mattiasson, on for Reynarsson; on to Vanessa Marvinsdóttir, and then flicked through by Kæja to Jason Þórhallursson, replacing Röskvi Tyrfingsson, who, with his back to goal, fought off Kerr’s attention and slid a pass across. In five touches and 90 yards the Snow Wolves had progressed down the field while the commentators discussed the relative aesthetics of the advertising hoardings: only at the last moment was it noticed that Græntfjall had split the defense, and that Sara K was racing onto the ball unmarked. It only took a moment’s indecision from Barker, who had played so well, and she had the perfect angle to commit him to go down and smother the blast – that never came, as she dummied back, and finished with her right foot, an impetuous chip out of his reach. The inevitable booking for excessive celebration (she removed her shirt and at one point it looked like it was all coming off) was barely noticed by a stadium, that had been snoozing their way through a few songs, suddenly brought to roaring life.

There remained 15 minutes and the potential for a sudden burst of excitement. End to end football as the Black Eagles fought for their lives, and the Snow Wolves looked to crush them with a second. Instead, Græntfjall resorted to time wasting, ball hogging, and, quite frankly, deeply cynical fouling that could have seen more than just the three yellow cards flashed their way. It was frustrating to watch. But it was 1–0 in a World Cup semifinal the most deludedly drunken Snow Wolf Pack fan never dreamed of seeing. It was, under those specific circumstances, entirely understandable. The match award flattered Sara, who had been somewhat uninspired – the hard-working Hicks might have been a more deserving recipient, or the clinical Grímúlfur. She responded in deeply classy fashion with moving words paying testament to the sporting spirit of the Tumbrans. And then she pretended the trophy was her dick and started miming spraying her teammates in the face.

But, nobody’s perfect.

Græntfjall – 1 (0)
Björnólfur; Alyssia (89’), Grímúlfur, Hjörleifur (70’ Eyvar ), Emeli; Tinni (84’ Valtter (90+2’)); Vanessa (87’), Amanda, Sara (77’) (77’); Kæja; Röskvi (63’ Jason )

Tumbra – 0 (0)

* The Tango is a Verdean dance in which dancers attempt to mimic the flailing tentacles of a kraken.

Also in the paper:

NEWS: Newspaper sales plunge after two years pass by with, apparently, shit all happening
BUSINESS: Überolía eye major acquisitions; climate activists fail in shareholder revolt
POLITICS: Dominant Progressive-Liberals eye unprecedented majority
RELIGION: Háttmark Chief Imam under fire following “equivocation” over antisemitic comments
SPORT: Ice Wolves return to semi-final, literally no one notices

by **Farfadillis** » Sun Jun 19, 2022 6:55 pm

Cut-off!

by **Graintfjall** » Thu Sep 29, 2022 2:13 pm

“Well it’s real simple.”

Igrene Cantor stood in the center of the changing rooms, arms crossed, turning very slowly on her heel to look over the players sat around her on benches, heads down, panting, spitting blood.

“For some of you, this is your first tournament in blue-and-white. You’ve got forty five more minutes left, and that’s it.”

In the corner, various support staff and reserve players were standing.

“And for some of you, this is your last tournament, perhaps even your last match.”

Distant cheers from the stadium above drummed on the roof of the changing room.

“Tonight’s where I leave you. And so I want you to know that win or lose, I’m proud of you. I’m proud of us, and all we’ve accomplished together. I inherited a side that had missed out on the World Cup and lost its first Cup of Harmony game on home soil. I told you then that I wasn’t going to take you to the World Cup: that you were going to take me there.”

In the far corner, Sara K bounced a ball methodically from left foot to right and back. Igrene watched her for a moment before continuing.

“And you didn’t disappoint. At our lowest moments, in our worst defeats, I’ve never had cause to be disappointed in this team. And I know that these last forty five minutes aren’t going to disappoint me either. But it’s not me I want you to think of when you go out there: it’s the fans, in the crowd, watching on TV, listening on radio from half the world away, who’ve believed in you every step of the way. It’s your family, your loved ones, who cheered you on from the school playground to the World Cup final. It’s Johanna.”

She gestured to the injured midfielder, her ankle encased in a cast, who was standing alone in the corner, staring down at the floor.

“Who would run through fire to be able to help you tonight. It’s Hjörleifur.”

The captain resembled a badly crippled whaling vessel, listing and taking on water as it shed its cargo, as physios quietly strapped various parts of his body that had fallen off during the first forty five minutes of the game back on to what was left of his shattered body.

“Who will probably never step foot on a football pitch again after tonight.”

Igrene nodded to him and he nodded back, an action that clearly caused him considerable agony.

“So you’re going to go out there, play for forty five more minutes. Maybe you’ll win. Maybe you’ll lose. But I have no doubt any one of you is going to give me anything less than all you have left to give.”

Behind her, the light warning players to be ready to return switched on. There was a rumble of approval as the players rose from their benches. Studs scratched across the concrete floor. Drinks bottles and tension wraps were cast aside. As Danny Oddkellsson lingered to let those playing take the line ahead of him, Igrene approached him.

“Still thinking about that penalty?”

It was clear from his eyes the thought hadn’t left his mind ever since he’d missed in the shootout. “No,” he lied.

“Good. Get warmed up. Ten minutes and you’re going on.”

He unzipped his jacket top with furious pride as Igrene moved past him towards the one figure remaining in the changing room. A mane of fabulous blonde hair. A shadow of significantly less fabulous, if not downright pathetic, beard-stubble.

“You too.”

The mane nodded; a hand ruefully scratched the beard-stubble.

Turori – 1 (1)
Diijelhma (41’)

Græntfjall – 3 (1)
Björnólfur; Alyssia, Grímúlfur, Hjörleifur, Emeli (74’); Tinni; Vanessa (85’ Arinbjörn ), Amanda (54’ Danny (90+2’)), Sara (26’); Kæja; Röskvi (54’ Jason (60’))

It was late, and the hotel bar was nearly empty. Which for a World Cup winning striker still meant three or four selfie requests, half a dozen handshakes, and every eyeball in the room on him. All he wanted was a drink. Apparently pouring out a wodka was going to take every single bartender on shift and a couple who’d punched out to assist.

For a World Cup winning manager, it turned out, it was much easier to navigate the room without recognition. And much harder to get service. Ungrateful bastards. You spend six years in a country turning around their football program, win the World Cup on home soil for them, and then it’s, just a moment, Ms Cortan.

Jason Þórhallursson looked down the bar and was surprised to see Igrene Cantor. As she waited for any of the serving staff to take notice of her she was watching a TV screen, which was showing some Eagl’e’s’ Cup football. Nephara were playing. And losing.

Jason approached her.

“Heard they invited you. Sorry I didn’t get a chance to speak to you at the premiere. I wasn’t with the others, had a place in the royal box.”

“So I’ve been told.”

He cracked first, hiding an embarrassed schoolboy smirk as he put his hand to his (clean-shaven) mouth. “You staying long?”

She shook her head. “Just tonight.”

He glanced up at the screen. “Oh? Big plans?”

This time she was the one to smile. “I couldn’t say. Just trying to get a drink.”

Jason gestured and the fawning wait staff immediately remembered that Igrene existed.

“What did you think of the film?”

“First of all, I’d never say ‘well it’s real simple’. And what the fuck was that accent?”

“Bit too sappy for your taste?”

“It was fucking diabetic. And the end, with the krakens? Lightsabers? I don’t remember…”

He shrugged disarmingly. “Look, it’s a Græntfjaller movie. They all end that way.” ‘It’ was The Last Wolf Pack, the ‘true story’ film of Græntfjall winning the World Cup that had been rushed into production immediately after the final two years ago.

“I didn’t say any of that, at half time.”

He thought back to what had actually happened…

Glissando harp strings.

Annoyed, they both looked over to where a musician was setting up for a late night folk concert.

“They’d have had a hard time using your actual speech and keeping a PG rating.”

Igrene frowned. “They’re not going to get sued by Friday Night Lights?”

“Nah, we’ll just claim copyright doesn’t cross the fourth wall.”

She sniffed. She was clearly more irritated by the actress playing Igrene Cantor and her atrocious attempt at a Nepharan accent than anything.

“Another drink?”

“No, thanks. I have an early flight.”

Jason glanced at the screen again. The Nephara–Turori game had finished, and the analysts were now looking at highlights from some of the Nepharan players not in the EC squad. One player in particular.

They finished their drinks – neither would have to pay for a drink in any bar from Altendalur to Hartburg as long as they lived – and headed off. They were staying on different floors, so it was at the elevator doors they said their final goodbyes.

“The film got you all wrong, you know.”

“I know.” She mimicked the terrible accent: “‘You got forty five minutes and that’s it.’ Fucking atrocious.”

“No, I mean… you didn’t say all that. Because they made it all about you talking about yourself. Which you never did. I remember that half-time speech: you didn’t mention yourself once. Afterwards, the papers… they made it all about us, too. Seems you never really got your due.”

She shook her head. “It was a job. I did my time. I got paid. And we all move on.”

The elevator doors opened. The smell of sea brine filled the air, and with it, a tang of some more noxious vapor. A dread boom echoed through the hotel reception as an eldritch creature unfurled its hideous body. Out rushed a dozen oozing tentacles, ensnaring Igrene and dragging her in to the abominable mouth of the kraken…

Jason shook his head. That wodka had been stronger than he thought. Igrene stepped into the elevator and nodded to him. They both knew that when she got to her hotel room, there’d be a red light flashing on her phone. A call waiting from the Nepharan FA.

“Vetiver’s good, huh?”

“She’s very good.”

“She could be great.”

“Just needs a good coach.”

“Or even a great one.”

The doors closed on her. On the other side, the other elevator doors opened. Ingþór Auðbjörnsson had a Græntfjaller-sounding name, but there was something about his manner that immediately marked him as an outsider. He stepped from the carriage, greeting Jason with a firm handshake.

“Jason, glad you could make it.”

“It’s no trouble, but I should say, I’m pretty tired, with the jet lag from Banija, and then sitting through the film.”

“Good movie! Wasn’t sure about the bit at the end with the krakens.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

“Perhaps, perhaps. Now, the reason I wanted to meet with you is to talk about the Copa Rushmori next year. I know you said you were thinking of hanging up your boots.”

“Yeah, I think I’ve done all there is to do at this stage…”

“Well, I have a proposal for you.” The talismanic Pasargan striker put his arm around the shoulders of the talismanic Græntfjaller striker. “Jason? I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

“I should probably warn you, the Græntfjaller cut of that movie ends with her being eaten by a kraken, too…”

World Cup 91 [roleplays]

WC91 Round of 16 v. Ko-oren

Endless, Episode 9

Endless, Episode 10

WC91 Quarter Final v. Zwangzug

WC91 Semi Final v. Brenecia

Who is online