World Cup of Hockey 47 || Everything Thread

[Trolleborg]

Greetings, compatriots!
It’s TTV and we are offering you to relive those exciting moments of the World Hockey Championship final that brought us so much happiness and pride for our country. As you all remember, in the final our team crossed sticks with Banija. Of course, the atmosphere of the final was charged, so that is not a too much exaggeration say that ice melted, but charged in a good way. A huge army of fans from Trolleborg sang songs and chanted with might, without stopping for a second from the first lights in the ice arena up to the end, but the followers of Banija, although clearly outnumbered, were also well heard. In such a games, every little thing was important: the opponents are much more experienced than our hockey players, and, judging by what we saw on the broadcasts and with our own eyes, they are superior in skill, playing in the leading leagues of the world and gaining experience in the fights against the best clubs in the world - even if they have too many, in our opinion, aged players. And, who knows, whether the emotions of the fans did not add that smallness, which in the end determined what the result would be?

When both teams fell out on the ice before the start of the fight, the absence of conversations and other usual practices before the start of the game in the ranks of both of them caught my eye - apparently, everything has already been said in the changing room. Our head coach emerged from under stands last again, and looked concentrated and focused, but it was clear that he, who had seen everything in this world, was also affected by the stakes in this game. The players of both teams performed their pre-match rituals, Shelburn took his place in front of the net, and it seemed to us that he was somehow bent by a huge responsibility. It is clear to everyone that with the scheme of our team's game, a lot depends on the goalkeeper, and psychological weakness of the inhabitants of Trolleborg, who often break under pressure, are also known. But Ruud Hallgren, the most experienced hockey player on the team, returned to the ice and said something to goalie. And Shelburn straightened up. This shot is of two players who went through all the tests with the team from the beginning to this point, together on the ice before the start of the game, which does not fall to every hockey player in his career, to which they have come from the terrible and humiliating defeats of the first years of Trolleborg's stay in world hockey - undoubtedly, for a long time will become a symbol of what happened later.

And the game began.

In general, I must say that we have already seen similar scenarios at this championship on the ice: skillful opponents start pressing from the first minutes, have an advantage, move quickly, play combinations, but just can’t score. And our team tend to their duty near goal, but not as a besieged and overwhelmed. The first third of the game went strictly according to this scenario, in the second the game went more or less equal, but it was then that Banija had two of the most memorable goalscoring moments. At first, having received a numerical majority, the opponents almost opened the score, but two of the most dangerous shots by Émile Leroux were taken by a wall of players in green uniforms. Then, having guessed something, during a face-off in our zone, the head coach from the bench shouted to the goalkeeper of our team, ordering him to move slightly back. And these centimeters would make a difference for Shelburn if everything went as it went, without this directions. Because, having won the face-off, hockey players from Banija played the puck like in training - only instead of an empty corner at the end point of the combination our goalkeeper turned out to be here.

And the third period began just as the second ended, but it continued with what billions of fans in Trolleborg had hoped for - Soren Jespersen made a shot from afar, Trophimus Raila reacted to it, although a group players hindered his view, but puck nevertheless proceeded to the net after veteran Ruud Halgren correctly calculated what will happen next.

Miracles happen! Our lads are leading in score while there are thirteen minutes left. Just thirteen minutes or the whole thirteen minutes, that's the big question. But still, our hockey players were able to contain the natural impulse of the opponents to level as quickly as possible, and when there was just over five minutes left to play, the opponents’ experienced players, who were probably tired due to their age, made a mistake, Rolf Runar took possession of the puck and accurately sent it straight into the path of Jesper Sederland, he cold-blooded moved out one on one with the goalkeeper and managed to beat him

It was then that the most difficult part of game began, since our lads have not yet experienced such pressure at this championship. There wasn't much time left to play, but those were probably the most difficult minutes of the entire tournament. Shots came in one after the other - but Thorbjorn Shelburn managed them all, even when the opponents replaced their goalkeeper with a sixth field player and besieged his net for more than a minute and a half, while not allowing the puck to leave our zone at all.

When the final siren blared, the roof of the stadium seemed to rise slightly in the air from the enthusiastic roar of thousands of fans from Trolleborg. The whole team rushed to the ice, taking with them the head coach, who, as usual, was carried in their arms around the arena.

The whole country - and this is not an exaggeration, - celebrated the success

And about this day and about this path, no doubt, pictures and books will be written, films will be made and theatrical performances will be staged. Not to mention the expansion of the Museum of Sports History, which clearly needs a new halls.

And then our hockey players were given coveted prize, most prestigious in the world for every hockey player. It was raised by Ruud Hallgren's over his head and passed to Torbjern Shelburn, and it was very symbolic. It was a long and hard road from beaten 7-1 and 9-0 underdogs to the championship title, not many players were able to cope with it, but they did.

[Trolleborg]

Team arrived in Trolleborg to be honored for this success. Grand parade was arranged for such occassion. People occupied every possible spot on the route which open buses with hockey team use to move from Trolleborg International Airport to the city center, and cheering enthusiastically, singing and waving as heroes of the day was slowly moved by.

And much more folks await them at the city center, standing almost shoulder-to-shoulder

As our head coach, the national leader of Trolleborg, correctly noted, “We are celebrate victory today. But it does not seem that our victory pleased the hockey world. It seems that most hockey powers would be happy to congratulate some other team instead, and since things didn’t work out the way they wanted, they saved their warm words for some other time. Maybe, in the end, that they have a limited number of congratulations, and haven’t spare ones on this occassion. But it’s their choice and we can only to shrug while observing this. And we needed to work with that”.

Then he make a pause and announced that he is resigning as head coach, because he believes that he is not in a position to add anything else and does not consider it necessary to continue coaching. “I did my best and achieved some success, but it's time to give way to people who understand hockey better than me. Who it will be, or maybe are we needed hockey national team at all, you, dear compatriots, will decide for yourself, as it customary in our country. In the meantime, I must thanks everyone who is involved in this success - and those who fought on the ice, and those who were cheer for us in the stands and near the screens. We play and win for the whole country, and hope for best in the future! And now let’s celebrate, we all deserve it!”.

[Independent Athletes from Quebec]

Dr. Heo and the Portal of Madness

PART 20 - Vampires

Isabel unveiled the map of Quebec and Shingoryeo, pointing to the various points without a single word coming out of her mouth, and then would come to bridge them together in a web.

'The net is bigger than it appears, though it probably wouldn't be able to cover all that's needed to prevent us from breaking apart, or disappearing altogether,' said Isabel, looking back at the surrounding countries of the map. There one could see not only the familiar names of Ko-oren to the northwest and Huayramarca to the southwest, but also relatively lesser known nations of Lacfroid and New Gesem that had over time replaced their once-neighbours of Semarland. 'Do you see where the things have not exactly...gone right?'

Mmm, was all that was on Dr. Heo's mind, as he quickly noticed the direction her extra-regional colleague was intending to point out. This is not a normal map - the surrounding nations look a lot more populated in numbers, and all the routes south of Blood Sea lot more clogged up and tempestuous based on what this is saying.

The man his junior, however, would be quick to point out the problem. 'Yes, why is Andossa Se Mitrin Vega directly confronting Huayramarca? Most maps not from Quebec do not have this version, but the ones here and on the home soil do,' Joon-Gweon said. 'According to here you would go south of Montevicio and then to Baja Calania, where there exist two options. But elsewhere doesn't exactly have that.'

'Correct assessment,' commented Isabel, the time-master whose time had much been spent on 'theories of universal sentience, multiversal suprasentient agency, and exotic mathematics' (a 2021 roleplay by Tequilo was cited for a specific sake). 'I still remember witnessing everything a decade ago from now, of the Foxchester Accords and the Anaian Dawn, not to mention the return of the Licentiapasterra from the fog....but did not take into account the possibilities of a lack of...so-called, proper severance. Let's say.'

'So you are saying that there could only be so many maps from the outer circle, but those are imperfect because something's not done correctly when the Declaration and the Amendments were announced?' asked Joon-Gweon.

'Yes,' Isabel answered, though she had wished the Tamarindian in her would limit herself from saying much beyond what's needed for this purpose. 'There is a common saying back in now-lost lands of Wight that when something that's supposed to be as big as the Declaration itself, or travel to the Tea Party at the End of the Multiverse...time stops becoming time. And when that happens, sometimes you would end up with certain steps not being implemented due to checklists missing a box or two.'

'Okay, okay, okay, stop there for a second, please,' Dr. Heo asked him to stop. 'We all know that Gwangmoo-Twelve and the Cabinet had not noticed the impact the said AOxit would create. Almost as if they had gone without care and brought his friends, the guys to the left shore and the right shore alongside him?'

Isabel would just smile back, as she answered in a light smirk suggesting the level of difference in their understanding (for obvious reasons, duh). 'I do not know the mortal politics, my friend, and would rather speak of logistics and fallouts,' Isabel said, her eyes glowing up a bit. 'But what appears to me is that the plan, while valiant, may have flaws, one that would demand more without adequate preparation or consultation.

'It's like a certain foreign named...Fiktor Vin, whose name dances more like a Coq Au Vin, I don't even know anymore. Notes from the future would suggest that: "But it does not seem that our victory pleased the hockey world. It seems that most hockey powers would be happy to congratulate some other team instead, and since things didn’t work out the way they wanted, they saved their warm words for some other time".'

'Demanding respect when the state representatives would come to make accusatory comments against others without substantial evidence,' Joon-Gweon added. 'How classless. One that I wish I could agree, but cannot, because respect is to be earned both ways. As we have said for years with our rivals, respect comes in both ways. Like the Ko-orenites on cricket, Sylestonians on handball, Banijans on basketball and Mytanars on volleyball.'

'Okay, back to the actual topic please.' said Dr. Heo. 'So we have some serious fallouts from Foxchester that's causing cracks all over the Quebecois soil, ones that may or may not have caused the...higher above...to send that Sea Monster and have it come at all of us, and Hannah. Correct?'

'Correct,' was all that she said, as Isabel gave the map a light touch. With a single touch, each and every stroke of the map would glow into silver. 'Let me manoeuvre this quickly.' She then quickly gave a hand gesture to swipe over the map, which unlocked all the endpoints and sites from their symbols to a set of smaller, holographic sites with specific incidents occurring in those places.

The crack appears to be worse than indicated, thought Isabel, while Dr. Heo and Joon-Gweon would observe from some distance away. The scenes were a bit too small for her to notice the details, but from the initial impression, it was evident that something was wrong. From the sea monster and the Lounge's flooding, to the arson committed to the Rink of Dream and the rumours of darker, grimmer forces all the way out in the Pronghorn Island over the Blood Sea, everything was happening around them.

And while she didn't have the courage or crosscheck to confirm those suspicions just yet, all of the signs would suggest to the weakness of the barriers between the Spiritual and the Mortal realms over the Quebecois soil. While Isabel knew how to travel through the nearby alternative dimensions and alter minor human decisions in a matter of butterfly effect, something like this would require a different sort of magical practitioner.

Hannah, of course, was one of them, and others could also be procured. But Joon-Gweon, whose ability to rationalise matters with relative ease, was a rare kind. The potency of his magic was evident and perhaps it was inevitable he was going to have to use it.'

'Alright, let's have a look at this,' Isabel said, gesturing to Joon-Gweon and Dr. Heo that they should check what is going on. 'Actually, Jang. You are good. You should check up on Hannah rather - I will probably need Dr. Heo's thoughts on this. She's in the guest bedroom.'

[Celestial Dancers of Karegnondi Lodge]

OOC: Now, as promised, the long-overdue RP piece for Mt. Karegnodi before I move elsewhere. As it turns out...not a bad tool.

Dr. Heo and the Portal of Madness

PART 21 - Every Other Freckle

Mount Karegnodi

Mount Karegnodi is a weird, ancient mountain. At the height of it there's a lodge, one that's rarely used by the spirits of the Shingoryeoite 'Other-World', but there were occasional residents whose age and presence had gone far behind that of the original Shin-goryeo Fleet of 1404, and held reaches further and greater than that of even The Creator who had lived on the other side of the so-called Fourth Wall.

Words were that there used to be a troupe of celestial dancers who used to inhabit here. The dancers, dressed in the finest of silk and gold, were often said to be among the finest dancers, and their wings, filled with needles at the end of it, were more than enough to feed upon those who would fall in love with one of them. Of course, over a century had passed since the dancer troupe had last been seen, with most choosing to depart to the other worlds well beyond northern Calania, or to live with the humans who had long revered and feared them.

Nowadays, there were about a half-dozen who were there to enjoy a vacation from the usual caretaker duties of their respective local duties, and also to discuss the Quebec and Shingoryeo national baseball team's second straight appearance at the W.B.C. quarterfinals. While the WBC had already happened four to six months prior, with the Grim Reapers' heroic stories in Drawkland well documented, many were happy to recount the memories of their respective travels, ones that they had made in disguise as humans into the extra-terrestrial region of Sonnel.

The list wasn't particularly ordinary, for no living deity had an interest in visiting Mount Karegnodi. The 2000m mountain, which had located close to the southwestern tip of Mahan province in the City of Huronia, and facing against the South Detroit Free State, was designated to be a zone for that of the average spirits, the area they could enjoy on their own. And as with the nation where sporting legacies would be chronicled in lineages and memories by The Creator, the sportsfolk were reserved a ticket.

This had meant there would exist situations like that of the spirit of Sir. Kim Ji-Choon. Kim, the former Grim Reapers and Montreal Koreana manager, and Casey Sertbas, the five-time Quebec Series-winning manager with Montevicio Dodgers, would be able to enjoy their time on the balcony of their penthouse. Formerly the enemies on their past lives, the afterlife would come to see the two, symbols of their respective eras, come to make up for their differences, and end up lovers to complete a lover's knot conflict of the Quebecois sporting animosities between baseball and football lovers.

The lodge would also see occasional visits from that of political dignitaries, such as that of Inteachan-born Prime Minister Ali Ruaidhri Khan, and of course, civilians whose abilities as storytellers were rewarded by a rare ticket to enjoy an onsen or two in the space. Having let go of their past-life worries and grudges, the space would see the mending of real-life animosity that would fuel the self-functioning thermal power station at the bottom of the Mountain, and new-life relations developed. Some would call this the re-development of the 'Old Boys Club', sure but one could also argue that the Lodge was also a form of therapy for the dead souls.

Anyways the proceedings appeared to go as smoothly as one would expect. Video sessions were held, musical performances made, poker tables active, and invisible monis exchanged. For all that's concerned another weekend of discussing the Quebecois journey to the quarterfinals finish at the WBC-55 seemed to be going as perfectly as possible. And then, all of sudden, something had happened - it was late in the night - when the thermal generator had exploded at the bottom of the mountain, with the Lodge being blocked off from the bottom of the mountain, and into the humanly realms.

They were blocked off.

-----

Birdlands Highway

Now the scene's moved directly south, to the Birdlands Highway that crosses between inner northlands of Quebec and Shingoryeo to Lacfroid via crossing the Fleuve-Saint-Henri just north of Songak, before going along the southern riverbanks to Panmoon. Once the truckers reach Panmoon, the border town with a significant presence of the army base nearby, they would be given a quick customs check before being let into a tiny, twenty-kilometre strip of land that separates them and Lacfroid, a small, inland neighbour of theirs centred by the might of the 'frozen-lake' and its creator, the fittingly-named Riviere-Froide.

It was still early in the morning, at around five in the morning, when a container truck would come to have a rest stop halfway into the highway. For most part the Highway was quiet, with relatively little vehicle presence outside of fellow containers or a couple of vehicles involving commuters between the two cities. The border situations between the two countries, for the most part, have been stable anyway, with both nations having long-established agreements and enjoying regular travels. But there were no significant migration of people between the two nations, and thus the roads were mostly left for transportation of goods and occasional commuters.

It was then that Jean-Joseph Blount, a trucker who routinely travelled between Sangju, regional centre of Saguenay province known for its fresh produces of apples and many other agricultural products, and Lacfroidois cities, would come to notice the oddities just outside of the highway fence.

It was a particularly foggy, quiet Monday morning. It was around the equidistant point of the grey zone, with both Quebecois and Lacfroidois checkpoints ten kilometres away. The visibility was limited, especially with how heavy clouds were on the May morning, and there was exactly one rest stop in between. Radio stations from both nations were still working fine, but sometimes the drivers would have to be careful, for the unusual conditions may interfere on communications front every once ina few years.

'Good................morning everybody, this is Brent-A., this is not a test, this is Rock n'Roll-'

Then all of sudden the radio contact was lost, something that had come with particular surprise for JJ. That had caught particular attention for the 41-year-old, as he would look to the left and then to the right. 'Uh, okay,' said he as he tried to resume his radio connection, but to little success.

It was then that a shrieking cry would be heard from his left, out of nowhere. It would then be followed by a row of small lights flashing and exploding, at that moment which he turned to the left. He would only see the quiet, chrochet-like wave of lights, however, as they would develop like an ocean wave before exploding like kittens.

Jean-Joseph, finding it mesmerising, decided to hurry to move his truck faster and faster with hopes he could capture them while he's on his truck. So he rushed his truck to driver faster and faster, and about five minutes later, would come to make a stop at the service station on the highway.

The problem, however, was that it was not permanent. Once he had come to stop there and got off the truck, he could see nothing but the familiar woods of darkness, without light or noise.

Baffled and in loss, Jean-Joseph would immediately realise that he had tempted himself too much to look for something far beyond his right or authority, and returned to his truck.

-----

Rink of Dreams

The scene would quietly change. Now it was Alexandre Browne-Hahm's cottage in the Rink of Dreams complex out in the north. With this being mid-may, and the previously-mentioned Prospero Lounge flooded, he decided to move remaining items of his belongings there and plan out his next move. The words on the town were that his colleague and the Hockey Quebec President, Adolphe Grasset, had usurped his spot to make a bid for the World Cup of Hockey Federation presidency while he was out doing other duties, so combined with all the catastrophic happenings at the Lounge and the humanly-spiritual borders, he knew he wanted to take a break from it.

So for now, he settled comfortably into his cottage. The living room was filled with all the memorabilia from his playing days, and the copies of honours and photographs he had taken as a hall-of-game goaltender. To keep the room look more like that of the average, plain-sounding Kingstonian lad as he once was a half-century ago, all the items and furniture were removed of all working magic. Some extra-life guests, if he would even have them here, would not be happy, but he could not care enough about that.

At least I'll be at peace here, thought Alexandre, thinking a bit simplistic over it if not foolish. Besides, if The Narrator's in need of approaching me, he could always ring the ding-dong and call it.

'Oh really?' the invisible voice of The Creator said to his ears. 'Listen, dear child of mine. Do not underestimate me, The Creator, for that may cost you not only this cottage, but also make you liable for possible damage to this world after it's all done.'

It was at that moment that he saw the still forms of The Narrator, who was more than alive but contained in the mummified form. Alexandre stood back in horror, as he struggled to contain the horrors of watching The Narrator in a mummified form. 'What was that?' Alexandre said to the thin air, hoping that The Creator would notice.

'Well, you see,' said The Creator, his voice speaking to them in the absentee form. 'I was not kidding when I said that none of you should underestimate me. The Rink of Dreams, for all the successes attributed to the Federation and your part for negotiating with the Spirits, are my own creations after all.'

It was at that moment Alexandre tried to escape by exiting to the balcony, only to see that the door was locked. Not only that, everything outside of the cottage was falling apart, as the 40,000-seat rink, which contained massive stands that held fans from all across the Multiverse for the 44th World Cup of Hockey, was burning down. And while the flames were yet to hit the surrounding village of holiday houses, which were designed to hold tens of thousands of people who would stay, Alexandre would quickly notice that the destruction of the rink, with the boulders and the columns crashing to break and the seats to be melted, was serving its intended purpose.

That The Creator, if he wished to, could easily build and break his creations. And that his inventions, that being the dead and the living, would have to find the solution to whatever that have been causing the paranormal activities.

Alexandre turned around and away from the sights of the burning, to ask The Creator's voice. 'So what's the next?'

'Summon the Loungers and the young boy. And the two St. Croix professors who have been tracking all of this.' said the voice.

'But how would I know?' he asked.

'Just watch,' said the voice, before revealing his face.