World Cup 63 RP Thread

by **Paradystopia** » Sun Jan 06, 2013 10:10 am

(OOC: This continues directly from my previous post. Should of all been one chapter as it were but RL had other ideas)

"The Commune is real?! You seriously mean that the rumours were, I mean are, true?"
"Mr. Hjken, the commune has existed for many years now. We maintain a low-key existence and are mostly self-sufficient."
"So, where exactly am I? I mean, where in Paradystopia is this commune based?"

Alpha chuckled. The ex-minister was blissfully unaware that during his previous nights drinking, three men had stealthily broke into his apartment in P.C.G., rendered him unconsious with a cocktail of tranquillisers and transported him in this catatonic state half-way across the multiverse.

"We are no longer in Paradystopia. We are a completely independent country Mr. Hjken. Commune-PDT.v2, in the region of Esportiva. The great city of Mogd-Syrdusha and this is room 6.74AF1 of building 001; The central government building. Is that an adequate level of concision for you?"

Friedrich didn't know what to say. He wasn't particularly happy about being abducted but there was nothing he could do now. In this new country, with three indimidating gentlemen and a splitting headache. And of all places, The Commune. It was apparently a place of nightmares. An anarchic wasteland. A secret facility with the sole purpose of human experimentation. He silently prayed to any available deity that these were just exaggerated rumours. Why was he here? Oh shit. What were they going to do to him?!

"Why am I here? What do you want me for?"

Alpha was preoccupied with gazing nonchalently at a poster on the wall, the only discernable decoration in the room. It displayed a woman, a young beautiful woman with a gaunt, yet muscular face, flowing locks of blonde hair and radiant blue eyes. She stood strong and proud, almost defiant in her dark grey uniform. Beneath it was written 'The Communado Enforcers. Join us in the fight for justice.' Friedrich hadn't even noticed it before and his fleeting glance still failed to notice the metallic claw where the womans right hand should have been. Alpha spoke without turning to Friedrich.

"You are here because the Holy Father wishes to speak with you. He will explain what he wants of you in person and you are currently unready to be in his presence."
"Unready?! What's that supposed to mean?!"

He feared the worst. Was he to be the next subject? Alpha turned with a weary look.

"For one, your blood alcohol level is currently 0.021%. Our nation does not permit alcohol so in your current state I cannot permit you to see the Holy Father. Secondly, you are currently wearing your pyjamas. Though not illegal here, there are certain degrees of social etiquette to be adhered to and thirdly, your ... "

He rolled his eyes as he deliberated how to finish his sentence.

" ... your ... I find your aroma rather unpleasant."
"Oh, I see."

Friedrich was trying hard not to panic. Please let there be a reasonable explanation. Maybe they wanted to offer him a job? Or he'd won a free holiday here? Maybe the Holy Father just wanted a nice chat about football?

"An audience with the Holy Father has been scheduled Mr. Hjken. You shall see him tomorrow. Until then you shall remain in this room. My brothers and I will ensure that your needs are catered to but also that you do not leave. Do not attempt to escape Mr Hjken. For your sake."

He gestured towards the other two men

"These are my brothers; Beta Sigismund and ..."
"Gamma?"

The left brother's aggressive advance was halted by Alpha's hand on his chest and his remonstrations were silenced simply by a finger to the lips. He moved back into alignment with Beta, a frosty glare fixed on Friedrich. Alpha continued.

" ... Delta Sigismund. Gamma was our brother but alas, he was weak and was duely extinguished after complications during his second procedure. We do not talk about him. To think that we all share those potential genetic imperfections is a great embarrassment to us and your interruption has greatly offended my brothers and myself ... "

He leant in towards Friedrich. His tone lowered and took a menacing edge and his left pupil transmuted, via white, to a dark red.

" ... Please refrain from insulting me again Mr Hjken. I am not a pleasant person when upset."
"Sorry?"

With a blink, Alpha's eye returned instantly to green.

"Indeed you should be. I'd advise that you get some rest ahead of your audience with the Holy Father. Beta will be outside should you need anything. Have a glorious day Mr. Hjken. I shall see you again tomorrow."

Alpha left the room. Maintaining his icy stare, Delta cracked his knuckles and grinned maliciously at Friedrich allowing the light to glint off his jagged metal teeth. He followed Alpha out of the room. Beta looked disinterestedly at Friedrich.

"I'll bring some food, drink and a clean suit. There's a shower room just down the corridor, room 6.74B02"

His voice was exactly like Alpha's, though the measured rhythm of Alpha's speech was lacking.

"Thank you"

Beta looked at Friedrich. His face was completely emotionless.

"Fuck you"

He left the room. Friedrich was alone again. Everything hit him at once. The panic, the fear, the dread. Curling into a foetal position, he sobbed quietly to himself.

by **The Archregimancy** » Sun Jan 06, 2013 10:13 am

MEMORANDUM

FROM: The Monastic Football Association

TO: The Holy Synod of the Archregimancy

Dear Brothers in Christ,

We greet you in this Advent season* to briefly report on the Archregimancy's progress through World Cup 63.

It is our sad duty to report that our new tactic of completely ignoring the tournament has, so far, been a dismal - indeed, potentially unprecedented - failure.

We have won every single match so far, including matches against teams that might have traditionally been considered stumbling blocks, such as Armed Bears and Beaverriver. While our Slavic-tradition hermits are no doubt quite used to bears and beavers, this is disappointing. Worse, the team currently top the group, have the best goal difference, a three point cushion over Eastfield Lodge (whom they - to our considerable embarrassment - defeated last night), and a four point lead over group first seeds Andossa Se Mitrin Vega, whom we were really hoping would run away with the group. Alas, the Vegans are proving most disappointing in that regard for the second consecutive cup.

Should the team continue to perform this ~~well~~ badly, it will be difficult to pretend to our brother monks that the tournament is not taking place at all. Certainly, we shall do our best to studiously ignore the World Cup to the best of our abilities - tomorrow's Christmas celebrations should at least provide a ready distraction - but we might perhaps ask you to consider three possibilities:

1) That our team and manager aren't nearly as bad as we'd hoped they were, despite all evidence to the contrary.

2) That perhaps God's plan is being revealed to us in an unexpected manner.

3) That if you're really that worried about monastic humility being damaged via international sporting success, perhaps we shouldn't enter at all.

Yours in Christ,

The Monastic Football Association +

*OOC note: The Monastic Republic follows the Julian Calendar. Christmas is therefore Monday the 7th on the Gregorian calendar

by **Alasdair I Frosticus** » Sun Jan 06, 2013 10:47 am

Surviving scraps from the diary of Professor Alexander M. Brookington-Smythe

....John found two more of the things earlier today, their bodies frozen in the permafrost. As we listened to the Holy Empire's 2-0 victory over Lymantatia, Xavier attempted a dissection. They were not altogether birds, nor moles, nor buzzards, nor ants, nor vegetable; but something I cannot and must not recall. Their webbed feat and membranous wings spread at impossible angles over the dissection table, and Xavier was forced to desist as a foul, nauseating ichor began to leak from their defrosting pith. He seemed unusually disturbed by the experience, but I told him not to concern himself, as...

...the news that Cassandra and John have still returned. They left soon after the Holy Empire's victory over West Angola, so this is a matter of some concern. Three more of the sled dogs were found dead this morning. Again, there was evidence that their internal organs had been ripped from their bellies as if by some hideous feeding beast. We have, of course, hidden this from the native porters, who continue to persist with their ridiculous superstitions about the 'Biakee', whom them claim serve the octopoid 'Unspeakable' one. We men of science often struggle to overcome these primitive beliefs, but I am sure that...

...Xavier was found dead this morning, shortly after I had finished listening to the Holy Empire's surprisingly narrow victory over Vakolic. His head was missing above the jaw, and clear teeth marks could be found around the jaw. The inscription "Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Tzimisces D'ree-m'relm wgah'nagl fhtagn" had been written in blood next to his body, the still-warm vital fluid leaking through to the ground beneath the snow. I perhaps write more calmly than I feel, for am I now the only surviving member of the exhibition. The native porters abandoned us soon after finding Cassandra's body, her belly ruptured as if she had forcibly delivered some dark and nameless alien child from her womb via an involuntary caesarian birth. I feel now as if I have no choice but to venture forth alone into the structure we discovered on the second day, but...

...base and nameless rites serving the unspeakable one, the ancient glyphs hitherto unseen by human eyes showing its servants crossing the tartarean leagues of interstellar space...

...cowering in the corner, hiding from the feeding octopoid form, which lurched inhumanely through the room, neither sliding nor walking, when I heard the two men. "This isn't going to be as easy as defeating Anollasia, you know, old friend" one said, as the other nodded acknowledgment. What this 'Anollasia' might be, I cannot fathom, but it cannot be as hideous and malign a monster as the unspeakable thing which lurks within the...

...two men left. I dared not make myself known to them, lest they be in league with the things within. I overheard them state that they had 'eliminated the cultists', but I know that they have not eliminated all the Byakhee, for as I scribble these last lines, hoping beyond hope that they may, in time, be found, one crawls towards me, its loathsome mouth glistening moistly, waiting to feed - and this time, I cannot see how I might escape...

by **Kiryu-shi** » Sun Jan 06, 2013 10:59 am

Dear Mother,

I do have to say I thought you might have been a little bit more concerned regarding my well-being following my previous letter, although I will grant that I do not seem to be suffering any serious long-term consequences following my time in Backyard Sports. With that being said, I cannot say that I am too excited to learn of your new artistic experiments regarding driftwood. I know that our family has some tradition of driftwood art, but I’m a bit worried that your enthusiasm may be misplaced. Not that I don’t think that your art is amazing - I do - but I just worry about how well your pieces will sell as a part of a big, international market. I don’t even know if foreigners would recognize the intricacies of the highest quality driftwood, to be honest.

But yes, your cursory concern regarding my well being was noted. Thank you. As a matter of fact, I’m doing fairly well, and although we didn’t meet our high expectations in the Gyatso-kai match, we still managed to take a point and retained our first place position in the group. It is worrying, however, as Falconwhereveryouare has overcome a worryingly dull start with two huge wins in consecutive matches. Not that you would know; I have a sneaking suspicion that you don’t know anything about our opponents prior to our matches against them. Not that there is anything wrong with that; I wouldn’t want to deprive you of the time you need to put into your new masterpieces…

I suppose you’ll be interested to know that in the match against Gyatso-kai, my tactics were fairly effective in controlling the progression of our attacks. While our opponents were noticeably the fastest and most talented that we’ve faced thus far, by a good margin, I was able to get our forwards in rather decent positions a few times throughout the match. While our only goal came when Lilly Yume came unmarked up the field and cleaned up a loose ball in front of the Avatarian net, it was a good showing for our squad, even though we couldn’t seem to put the ball away in tight situations. That last chance when Tziganes’s shot banged off the left post was pretty terrible. And, while the draw was disappointing, I’m feeling pretty good about how the team rebounded from the Backyard Sports match.

As for your last question, I don’t even know how to dignify that was a response. No, I’m not trying to make friends with any of my players. I am their coach. Yes, it still counts even though I’m the assistant. Yes, being their coach does mean that I shouldn’t be too friendly with them. I believe I’ve already addressed most of these concerns, and I don’t think that we really need to go over them again.

Finally, have you heard word of any political news on the radar in the university system? I know that you tend to stay out of those types of conflicts, but I couldn’t help but notice that the crowd against Gyatso-kai seemed a little bit more boisterous and perhaps more nationalistic than usual. Not that we didn’t appreciate it, but our nation isn’t really known for its rousing patriotism or its football fandom. To see the entire national stadium sold out and in Kiryu-shi colors was surprising, to say the least. I mean, I suppose it could have to do with the fact that we’re playing against the top team in the group, but I wouldn’t have expected it to mean this much.

Thanks,
Kayla

by **Svengarda** » Sun Jan 06, 2013 11:00 am

Helsingborg Gallery of Art
6th January, 22:36pm

"Shit"

"Stop fucking complaining and keep looking. There has to be another way out of here"

"Kirt & Var have been looking for the last 20 minutes. There's just the main exit and the security exit. Both are pinned down."

"Kirt's still in the vaults, he's just checked in. But Varijn hasn't checked in over two minutes, should we be worried?"

The leader of the gang was frustrated with the incompetence of his partners. He kicked angrily at at a bronze pole which stood in front of the now pale, empty space on the wall. The pole fell to the floor with a metallic clang. The leader turned around and marched towards the doors. He had to keep the police forces on their toes, and he removed a grenade from the Army standard wooden box. He hurled the device out of the shattered door, and he retreated to the sound of shouts and frantic movement outside the museum. There was a dull explosion as the grenade detonated, and there were more shouts.

The second member came back from his position at the back of the reception area and moved towards the leader.

"Kirt thinks that they've gotten in via the security entrance. Var's most likely dead, or captured and no doubt helping them."

"I'm hearing lots of fucking problems, but no solutions. Go and keep looking for an exit."

The second member picked up his gun, and checked his bullet-proof vest before going into one of the countless corridors to search for an exit. The leader sat down against the wall, and started loading up the various weapons they'd moved into the museum months and weeks before the final raid. He counted out all his various handguns, assault rifles and grenades and counted them back in. There was enough here to equip a small army, but there was only three of them now, unless Varijn came back, which was unlikely.

"Come look, quick!"

The leader turned his head and stood up quickly. He moved to the voice, and the second member came skittering round the corner, panting.

"There's...a...workmans hatch....I don't know where it goes, but it's...a way out"

"Great. Fucking awesome! Call in Kirt, but leave Var, he could give us away. I'll leave him some weapons just in case he's underground, but best to leave him. Get your weapons, we leave in two..."

*****

"This place is a fucking maze, where's the reception?"

"Just through hear, I swear"

The muzzle of the gun pressed harder into Varijn's back. The hot taste of blood was still there in his mouth, as he hadn't had a chance to clear it up since he was ambushed in the vaults. He hadn't seen it coming, and next thing he knew he was being lead through the gallery, hands bound, surrounded by Armed Policemen.

They entered the bright space that was the museum reception. It was a picture of terror. Shattered glass, walls devoid of the valuable works. Four bodies lay on the floor. Bullet holes riddled the plaster wall above the slumped body of the second security guard. The gang had rammed their van into the museum front, before bursting out and taking the reception. They rounded up the hostages and stole all the main artworks. But the police had responded a lot quicker than any of the gang had expected. They were stuck inside the museum, but had gone when the first Police team arrived.

"They're not fucking here!" shouted the commander of the Police squad, angry at the lack of results.

"Where ARE THEY!" he shouted again, right in the face of the Varijn.

"I don't know" he cowered "we were going to be in and out before you even got here. Our plan screwed up. There are only two exits, and they haven't come out either, so they're probably still here"

The squad leader talked into his radio "Get some more teams in here, search the entire area"

Kalstørm Airport
Helsingborg
23:24

Flight number: 14 to Wight is now boarding

Who knew those tinny words from the Airport Tannoy would be the words to save the three remaining members of the gang. They'd posed as college students wanting to grab a last-minute summer break. Although Wight wasn't a particular tourist destination, they'd posed as students studying the culture of the country, so had passed the security checks.

They walked to the desk and the leader, posing as a 22-year old named Jazpe, handed over his fake passport and waited nervously as the checks were carried out by the airline staff. After a few nervy seconds, the assistant gave a brief smile and they walked into the tunnel, and into the awaiting plane.

The flight was a relitavely short one, only four hours, but the gang still managed to get some sleep in the rather spartan economy class.

The leader woke groggily and opened the shutter of the window. It was a glorious sight, the sun setting over the mainland, the capital city of Spit perched on the peninsula. He rubbed his eyes and stretched his limbs, before asking the air-hostess for a whiskey. He took a sip of the drink, before glancing at his compatriot, sitting one row behind him in the middle isle.

He offered a single, solitary smile and dreamed of new beginnings...

by **Boring Paradise** » Sun Jan 06, 2013 11:26 am

Previous time
Location: Paradisian International Airport, Third Floor, Arrival, Waiting Room from Amelio (Tanos)

"So were nearly a quarter the way though the Qualifiers. What do you think will happen Luke?" Gary Hughes talking with a big grin on his face.

"Not sure yet but, we will be doing good towards the end, I was hoping for a great end to the qualifiers. Not first but one of the best six second placed team. I know we won't come first in our fourth attempt. That would be really surprising." Luke Homewood responded with the newpaper

"Yeah that would be very surprising, What is that?"

"It is called a newspaper." Luke replied with a sarcastic look. "I have already read it. It has the daily blog from the manager from the last match against Amelio."

What happened in the eyes of the manager
Matthew Johnstone

Another day for my team to shine there best. This time is the region of Tanos, nation of Amelio. How would we not win this match?. How bad must they be for us not to be threatened of them. They are scared of us. We had our best line-up from the very first match playing now. I hope the game goes well for us mighty Paradisians. The match up had a big disadvantage on Amelio. We have better players all round the field. It was 20:00 Amelian Time when the whistle was blown for kick-off. But I am not sure what time that is in Boring Paradise.

Amelio took an early lead with a stunning goal by the Unknown Amelian Striker. Osama Homwood, didn't stand a chance against the striker. This was shocking for me, the staff and the fans. Thi was unbelievable to see the screen saying Amelio 1-0 Boring Paradise. Now that was not good. I made sudden action.

Bringing out the secret weapon would have been great to use. So I did do that. Boredom was coming back to strike. They should never underestimate the might of our weapon. I used it until Half-time. The weapon always takes them out in the next few minutes. Then that was the perfect time to do that move. My next plan is to bring some remote controlled ball and an expert who likes to see the Paradisians win and his ball controlling was top style. Even the greatest controllers can't beat him.

But he wasn't needed at all. In the second-half. The weapon already done enough, but it malfunctioned and the amelian spectators were bored as well. So bored, I saw some go to sleep and some even leaving the match altogether. This plan wasn't meant to happen at all. In the 66th minute, finally came the equalizer by Raiyaan Malik in top form. Amelian are worse than a twelve-year-old. Raiyaan Malik coming from the wing. The defenders didn't challenge him at all he just got into the box with no harm done and scored.

In the 70th minute the weapon's time was up and the players and fans were back to normal challenging my players. But they were not good enough to finish the match in a draw. Hishaam Ali coming from the other-half with a counter-attack. He ran all the way from one side to the oter side and scored. Beaten by a twelve-year old one more time. They need to practise.

by **Yesopalitha** » Sun Jan 06, 2013 11:29 am

Nirdasil's Corner

So, here's a question for ya.

Will the Flames lose first, or will they win a game by more than a single goal first?

For the fourth straight game, Sir James Handel's side just escaped with a one goal margin of victory as the team remained tied for first in the group (only second to Megadia due to goal differential) following a 1-0 victory away at Estope.

Perhaps, the inability to score goals may come from the fact that Sir James continues to rest his starters against the "easy" teams. Terrance Housen got the start in goal instead of Jonah Calhoun, and only Naisi Von Helz started in the defense, as Sir James rested Michael Kevin and Noah Galvin.

An exciting development has to be the continuation of Jacques Kemp and Park Sung Hwan as the two midfielders who look like they will be taking the spots of Hilary Vander Rox and Ivan Dostoevich permanently. Jacques scored the only goal in the second half.

Brianna Carheim and Victoria Hellion both started at forward, but at this moment, neither one has the edge to who should start next to Nadya Dostoevich when the important games commence.

Next, Yesopalitha will try to continue their momentum with their second home game of this cycle, against Legokiller. All the reserves are expected to start again against this low-ranked team.

Matches against The Equestrian States and Megadia loom on Matchdays 8 and 9.

by **Western cuba** » Sun Jan 06, 2013 11:41 am

The Skies of Tempalia, Rushmore

"Hey Tito, do you know how far away we are from Western Cuba? I just can't want for the next away game, can't believe I'm saying that. It's only the fans that keep us from leaving", taking his headphones off, Tom Dawson grabbed a granola bar out of his bag and began to munch on it. "The food on this plane is shit as well, can't believe I bring my own food because of it".

"I think we're over Tempalia, so we're not too far away from the goose coast. We'll be there soon. This time though, we at least should be able to freely speak in our rooms. I forgot you told me, but either Perez or Mendoza said they have a few "friends" that supposedly helped us with that issue".

"Can't believe they bugged us Tito, the government doesn't give two shits about us. Especially me, perhaps I should focus more domestically than for country. In a way, I don't even feel like I'm playing for country".

"Of course you are Tom, your playing for all the oppressed people back home. When we go to play in that stadium, we have around 60,000+ people cheering us on. We give them hope. And they give us hope as well. The government is just another opponent we need to beat".

"And that's what is keeping me here, along with you guys as well. I don't know what I would be able to do without you guys."

"You know, perhaps I could get you a transfer to Saugeais for soccer. Perhaps you could join Pays de Croix, I might be testing new waters. But if you moved there I would defiantly stay. And there you wouldn't have to worry about no government".

"That would be awesome if it would happen, I doubt that though. Saugeais's league is a lot higher up than Western Cuba's domestic league.".

"And it will make you into a great player. I was in the same position as you when I left for Pays de Croix when I was your age. A young talent, but not yet discovered by the rest of the soccer world. Your a man of persevering Tom, remember the first day of tryouts for Havana City you had".

Mumbling Tom said, "Yeah I was cut...nothing spectacular about that".

"Not true, you didn't just give up. You even went to another whole area of the game, dominating the beach pitch. And look where that took you now. Tom you have determination, and in my opinion that beats athleticism. You can be good at something, but if you don't have heart you won't succeed. I'll put in a good word for you, try to find you a good club. Hopefully with me".

"Thanks Tito, I'm going to listen to some music before we land back in Western Cuba", placing his headphones back over him, Tom lowered his chair and shut his eyes. As he did so, an enthusiastic Edgardo Mendoza walked into the room.

"Damn Tito, that was a heck of a night. A hat trick, just spectacular. Your final goal in the 68th minute, pure amazement. You were in your Pays de Croix form last night. If you play like that every night, the opponent might as well forfeit.".

"Ah its nice to see you Edgardo, we didn't see each other much of the game yesterday. Who were you with in celebrating your victory yesterday?"

"Me, Perez, Ruiz and a couple of young girls from the Lunar Republic Islands. Haha, last night couldn't get much better. Perez had a fantastic game last night, just like you. I think our little meltdown is over".

Turning over towards Dawson, Tito sighed. "Almost, sleeping beauty over there is still pretty upset. You know, with him being half Britannian. The last time we were in Western Cuba against Gordonopia, things didn't go too well for him".

"Yeah that was a shame, I wanted to slug the manager of that one hotel when they refused service towards Dawson. Damn people can be such thugs. Glad that nobody on this team is like that, that's what makes us broders. We stand by each other".

"Yep, I told him I could potentially get him to play club internationally. That would be fantastic if we secured a deal for him. It would be even sweeter if we got him to play at one of our clubs.".

"It would be hard as hell though Tito, the rest of the world doesn't know how skilled Tom is. And I'm getting older, not like a can holdout against Scott City unless they signed Tom. They would just release me and find another forward to there liking".

"Pays de Croix owes me though, I launched there club to the top of Saugeais's league. When I joined they were a middle of the pack team. Now I got them playing for the champions cup. They should at least sign him to the reserves. And knowing Tom, he could easily move himself from there".

"I very hope so, hey did you hear how Esteban Reyes is doing coaching Cyborg Holland?".

"They tied there game last night, he's had a decent showing so far. Would be amazing if both of our teams qualified though, would love to face him in the group stage for the world cup. Heck, we both would love to qualify".

"Very true, before we land in Western Cuba, do we want to have one last celebration of our latest victory? Perhaps a few shots".

"Do you really think I would say no Edgardo?"

by **Mytannion** » Sun Jan 06, 2013 12:08 pm

OOC: Yeah, this is a different tack to the role-plays I have been doing thus far but it is something that will be ongoing for a while I hope. Mainly because it's actually quite a long story and I haven't prepared more than this first part yet but also because in the next few weeks I won't have much time for role-plays so I may have to work on one part over two or even three nights so I'll be interjecting these with the blog style posts by our travelling friends. This story is done by an independent journalist who is finding out more about the person who brought full-scale communism back to Mytannion.

Part One.

The first thing you have to understand in all this is that history is written by the victors. The history books are written as they choose, for they have won, the losers are not involved anymore and the story of whoever actually won is told to the masses. They often have no choice but to believe it, not knowing what really happened. This is a bit different. I travelled around Mytannion to find different people who were involved in events that took place not so long ago, all of this having to be done undercover, the government not wanting the full story told. I interviewed various people who were involved, former political prisoners, dissidents, refugees and a large number of generally normal people. This is an account of their stories.

I travelled to the port in the far north of Mytannion, Ebor, a city with a subarctic climate. Long and cold winters and this almost personifies the people here, bitter, cold, hardnosed. It took me a while to find someone who would be willing to talk to me here, but I knew that this was where I had to start my journey. It was where everything had started for Taras Kasprzak, after all. Kasprzak had returned here after the Border War, a two year War between Mytannion and Swartaz, focused on the area around the Mytanar city of Pahranichny. Kasprzak had been a soldier in that War and had returned to Ebor after the war, jobless and friendless.

Eventually I found someone who had known Kasprzak in that period after the War, Niko Doran, a 72 year old pub landlord. Doran usually catered to sailors and railroad workers, but when the young Kasprzak had gone north to Ebor, this changed. Doran found Kasprzak outside his pub one night and took him in, finding that Kasprzak had been left homeless after the War and that the government weren’t giving him any help in order to fix that. Doran agreed to put Kasprzak up, in return for odd jobs and errands that Kasprzak would regularly perform.

“How did you find Taras Kasprzak to be, as a person?” I asked.

“He was generally pleasant. He didn’t cause trouble, he was organised, he was very helpful.” He replied.

“Were there any problems with him, was he as erratic as later shown or did he seem normal at the time?”

“He seemed normal. There were times, when you saw the sailors coming in after being out for a long term at sea, you know, a good few weeks working out there. They came home, dropped everything they had caught off at the depot and then the company’s owner – whoever they were working for – sold them on. The sailors got a small fraction of the price the owner got for the fish and as soon as they had finished they’d come to the pub to spend their money. I wasn’t complaining, but on these occasions, Taras always seemed off with me. When he poured the sailors a pint, he seemed off with them. I tried to approach him about it, but the only line he gave me was that they – meaning the sailors – deserve more. I never fully understood what he meant; he was always so vague about it.”

I enjoyed my time with Niko, he presented me an opportunity to look at the old, democratic Mytannion. It was largely socialist dominated in political terms, but there were chances for businesses to thrive. His stories were a throwback to a bygone era, with democracy ruling and so many political parties actually serving to show what people wanted in their politics – although, I can see why Kasprzak eventually came into power because of this. So many political parties meant that there were rarely solid governments and most of the time it resulted in coalitions. Nobody could get much done, it weakened the power base in Mytannion and with what came afterwards, deep recession and such, this was not a good thing, leading people to turn to more radical options which eventually led to the abandonment of democracy.

Sure, democracy is the best way forward, but the era Niko looks back on with pride is gone and when asked about how he feels about things now, he was evasive.

“Things have changed so much, it’s not really fair to compare the two times, it’s all so different.” He said, completely avoiding any mention of his own personal opinion on the change.

One thing I did learn from visiting Niko in Ebor, was that Taras Kasprzak was already showing signs of communist tendencies as early as 1990. This really shows how fast his rise to power was and then how sudden his fall was. Kasprzak, in 1990, already felt that the sailors in Ebor deserved better than they got. They did the most work and the owner of the company they worked for did relatively little in comparison – and Kasprzak was already showing a sign of thinking this was inherently wrong.

A couple of weeks later, I was in Ouverjavaa, an overflow town just south of the capital city, Esca. I knew I had to discover the next part of Kasprzak’s life in order to understand just how he had become fully ingrained in Mytanar politics and more specifically, just how he had become so attached to the far-left of the political spectrum. When Kasprzak had come home after the Border War, he – like most other soldiers – just went wherever they chose. For some, that meant home, if they had one. For others, like Kasprzak, that meant wandering wherever they wanted to. The person I was going to meet next was responsible for tracking down these soldiers in the second category, the ones who weren’t accounted for.

See, the soldiers who had homes were a lot easier to find. They had a registered address and Army officials went straight to that address to find them. The ones who wandered and didn’t have a registered address, well, things were a bit more difficult for them. This was an exercise to try and discover the official number of War dead, if you could account for a soldier that had signed-up at the beginning of the Border War, you knew he was alive, if you couldn’t find them, you could record them as MIA.

It took Yury Urolenko the best part of five months to track Kasprzak down, he had to rely mostly on travel documents and word of mouth – as it was never recorded if Kasprzak had returned home or not after the Border War. Urolenko had been an official in the Army Intelligence Department for three years before this and had previously been working with a group in Swartaz, behind enemy lines, trying to gain intelligence on the Swartazian tank unit movements. Urolenko made a mistake, allowing Swartazian police to compromise the ‘cell’ causing Urolenko to flee and three members of the ‘cell’ to be killed.

Urolenko managed to get home, to Esca, to report what had happened. He told the truth and was promptly demoted from his position and sent to spend the rest of his days in an office job – compiling statistics about casualties for the official figures. Urolenko didn’t like the job – he told me as much – and he preferred having to hunt down those who hadn’t been recorded following the War.

“I didn’t mind it really. Moving around the country often, it was quite good, it gave me a chance to visit lots of places and meet lots of people. I always – and I mean, how couldn’t I – remember having to hunt down Kasprzak though. With most people, it was two, three weeks at the most before I managed to find them, if not less. With Kasprzak, it took me five months and four days exactly. It was strange, this guy seemingly had no family, no friends, nothing. All we had was a conviction for robbery when he was 17 and his birth certificate. He was born in Zvukkakfunt, so I thought he’d probably live somewhere up north. I searched around there for a while, then Severyan and Cassia. I never thought he would have gone that far from his hometown. I had to visit family in Ebor, one weekend, so I thought I’d give that a punt also, in the days before I met up with my family.”

“Did it take you long to find him?” I interjected.

“No.” Yury smiled, ruefully. “I went into the docklands, thinking he might have gone there, to find work, you know, before I ran into these sailors. I asked them if they knew of a Taras Kasprzak and they replied, ‘oh Taras! Yeah, we know him’ and told me where to go to find him. It didn’t take me long after that. It turned out that the pub he was living in was pretty popular in the local area.”

“So what happened next?”

“Well, it was mostly official procedure. Asking him how he was getting on, coping with civvy life and all that. He seemed fine, I just told him why I was there and all that and he seemed okay with it all. I was about to leave when I remembered that I had to tell him that there were still possible careers for him to go into now that he had left the actual Army. You know, jobs similar to my own. This seemed to spark some interest in him. It was like a lightbulb had lit-up in his head and he knew exactly what he wanted. He was very interested to know how he could get involved, so I told him he’d have to travel down to Esca, to the offices there – get in contact with me and I could send him onto a work advisor, who would present him with a list of Army related jobs that he could get himself involved in.”

I was beginning to understand more about how Taras Kasprzak had become involved in politics, of course, we know what happened when he went to Esca – and Yury confirmed this for me. He told me of how Kasprzak had saved up for a couple of months in order to get the train ticket down to Esca and to also be able to afford a few nights stay in a hotel there. He didn’t want anything too expensive, just something similar to his room at the pub in Ebor. He stayed in correspondence with Yury, who admitted his mind had already turned to different cases.

“It was a difficult job. You couldn’t focus too much on individuals, there were lots of people you needed to find and if your mind was stuck on one person you couldn’t concentrate on the job in hand. Kasprzak didn’t strike me as particularly interesting or anything like that, he did seem to be coping find with his life as a civilian, he was one person who had made the transition fairly well, and others just couldn’t do that. I didn’t worry about him too much, obviously there are just some things that are truly undetectable and I never thought in a million years that he’d go on to do what he did. I mean, he did seem to change from when I first met him and by the time he had got into power. Power corrupts people, it changes them.”

This was something I found interesting, like Yury said, ‘power corrupts people.’ How much had Kasprzak’s personality changed from the time he had left the army, until he had managed to get into power in 2002. It was what came next that truly got him interested in politics, though.

When Kasprzak landed up in Esca, he thought he’d only be there a week or so, believing that all the jobs that were going were beneath him.

It seemed that he thought of himself as a thinker by this point. When I had spent time in Ebor with Niko Doran he spoke of diaries that Kasprzak had kept, detailing thoughts about the sailors and how they should ‘come together, united, against the common foe that is the capitalist, the one who tramples all over the workers and takes the spoils of their work for his own.’ Quite communist sounding already, even before the time he had ended up in Esca.

Kasprzak was in for a shock when he met Yury and he sent him to an advisor who presented him with the opportunity to join the Army’s Political Department as a researcher. He was told that he would have to go and sit-in on the meetings of different political parties, to see what their ideology was and if they had any so called, ‘dangerous’ ideas, such as a racist ideology or communism.

Sure, social democracy and moderate socialism was fine at this point – but the state needed stability and no radicalism in order to rebuild after crippling reparations which had been imposed by the Rushmori Union after they had decided that Mytannion should bear the full brunt of the blame for the Border War and should owe Swartaz massive reparations.

So the Army needed a department that could research these parties in order to see if any did have so called ‘dangerous’ ideas, any parties with the word ‘Worker’s’ or ‘People’s’ were given special attention as they looked to find any left-wing radicals which had caused such instability in the past and in other nations. Kasprzak immediately accepted the job and began to seek accommodation in Esca. He sent his final month’s rent up to Niko Doran in Ebor in December of 1990, things were beginning to get interesting for Kasprzak around about now. The next few months would truly shape his life and what would happen in later years that would change Mytannion and Rushmore forever.

by **New West Guiana** » Sun Jan 06, 2013 12:22 pm

The office was small, though it was outfitted with a oak desk and large black leather office chair sitting idly, on the opposite wall behind the desk was a small laptop, Coach Hernandez sitting in front of his desk studying the past two matches sighing at all the missed chances that the teamed had to at lest not draw. But though still he was in a good mood as they haven't lost...yet. though even the next match they should have a good chance, they play New Ecopia. But Felipe has had enough of going over his work, he gets up and walks out the door but stopping only to lock it.

His office was on the second floor of the West Guiana Sports Association(WGSA) building in downtown Gemsbrook, walking out onto the street which was busy with people coming to and fro well it was after one and many having to get back work. But walking down 65th avenue walking south towards the St. Johns River Felipe in the cold weather wasn't noticeable to those few soccer fans that were at The Bar, a well known sports bar in downtown Gemsbrook. The wind was brisk and even though the temperature was around 33, the wind made it feel like 25 and Felipe luckily had earmuffs so he was nice and warm. The street was filled with empty white and green cabs awaiting for tourists or others to fill up on. Felipe never took a cab or the bus, he instead liked to walk to work or home, though on a night like tonight he'll take the cab, thus bus at night...um..no.

Reaching the banks of the St. Johns which the edges were slightly frozen over, but with the barges shipping grain and coal down to the loading docks of Winston ice never has the chance to form. Sitting down at a bench and took out his phone to look at the days news, of course the headline for the Gemsbrook Times Day:

Times Day
West Guiana draws two in a row! Should Felipe get canned?

"*sigh* Whats new." Felipe scrolling through chuckled a bit, the Times Day always disliked Felipe after he showed them up one day at a news conference three years ago, telling the other news outlets that the Times Day was nothing more than talking points for the city of Gemsbrook. Felipe was from Ft. McCarney then from St. Johns. He never liked living in Gemsbrook, sure it was the nations capital but other than that he felt that the cities inhabits were nothing more than stuck up babies.

Looking out across the river just as a old wooden riverboat was starting to make its journey up the river, maybe to New Haven or St. Johns, Felipe decided to get up and start making his way to the Stadium walking over the bridge there. The next game on the list is against New Ecopia and Felipe knows that has got to be a win, or else this World Cup round isn't going as he had hoped, he doesn't mind ties, but would rather get one or two more wins in, though before the bye that seems unlikly, as the next three matches after New Ecopia are against top 50 ranked teams; Mytannion, Thatius and Milchama. Out of those three a draw and maybe a win is possible, that is what he would like.

by **Kishrael** » Sun Jan 06, 2013 12:38 pm

KISHRAEL CLAIM FIRST WIN - ANNOUNCEMENT OF NEW SPORTS INCENTIVES

Chief KFA executives at the launch of Total Football - Total Access, one of many new sporting incentives announced yesterday

An 86th-minute goal by Bibras Tapuah breathed much-needed life into Kishrael, snapping a three-game winless streak by giving the team a 4-2 victory over Vakolic at a drenched Banana Nest.

Kahol Yam were finally showing some spark that had been missing in their previous games, but it finally got back on track and closed to within two points of sixth placed Bloodbath Generation thanks to Tapuah’s fourth international goal of the season.

“We controlled the possession, and that allowed us to create a lot of chances,” said Kishrael’s relieved coach Menashe Harel.

“I hope that we can kick on from here. We have tough games ahead of us and so the momentum from this game will really help us.”

The Holy Empire established a three-point gap after Starblaydia failed to get a result against West Angola.

Peter Wilson gave West Angola the lead in the seventy-first minute, and Starblaydia just couldn't hit back effectively.

“These were three priceless points for them,” said Menashe Harel after seeing West Angola conclude their match after Kishrael had finished playing.

Also this week the Kishraeli Government have announced new sporting incentives for young people, so as to develop their skills and give the nation a bright sporting future.

Executives at the opening of Total Football - Total Access one of the new schemes to allow everyone from whatever background successful in sport are very happy at being able to make the game more accessible to all, Kofi Yanachov said: "It is great that we can immerse younger people in sport, and as sport as great as this, we are happy that this day has come."

In other news, with a 75% public vote, Hava Nagila has been announced as Kishrael's footballing anthem, and as of today, will ring out during forthcoming international games.

by **Birolika** » Sun Jan 06, 2013 12:58 pm

The Daily Sheep
Birolika fall short due to own goal and then are destroyed by Geisenfried

Tyrrin 1–0 Birolika
Birolika 1–5 Geisenfried

Birolika had their first real chance of some points on away ground to Tyrrin last night, however the chance of taking away some points against this fallen giant were lost with an own goal in the 76th minute. The game was a dull and tense one with a borderline muderous midfield battle, the only real chance of the game was one from Tyrrin (and even that wasn't that close).

The game kicked-off late due to a spot of snow, however it stopped quickly and melted away quickly. Tyrrin had the best of this, but this isn't really the best term for it as their 'control' of the game consisted of short strings of passes in midfield leading to nothing. Neither team really attempted to assert any pressure, although Tyrrin took a vague shot at goal in the 27ths minute which went comfortably over the bar. Most of the time was spent attempting to build up and then being tackled and having it tumble down, of course this led to tension and eventually Orick Blaines got sent off for repeated fouling. Half-time came as a relief, but not a great one. The second half was essentially the same, except it started raining and the players and fans looked slightly bored. The goal came in around the 80th minute when a cross into the box was met by the head of Jane Wass and it poked it into the net. The Birolik fans groaned at the second own goal to be scored this campaign, meanwhile the team hasn't managed to put a goal in at the right end. The rest of the game was spent as before and the own goal had no impact besides giving away three points to Tyrrin and leaving Birolika on 0 and with a 9 game losing streak in world cup qualifying (we also have a 1-1-16 record overall which might just be terrible beyond belief).

Next came the game against Geisenfried, it was also a massive let down. You would have thought we could have pulled something together in front of a home crowd, however you might just be wrong. The turn out was appaling to start off with, only 400 Biroliks turned out to support their national team, however by the end most of them had left as a poor performance led to a massive thrashing from the Geisenfried side. I won't really bore you with the details, but basically Birolika conceeded three in the first half, scored one in the 47th and then Geisenfried scored 2 more. The Birolik goal wasn't anything decent despite the four games it took to score, it was a scrap in the box which was finished off by Rex Malone who managed to poke it over the line.

***

The Shadowman found himself walking slowly and awkwardly down the streets of Dalton, it was of course difficult to walk with the weight of a stereotypically looking sort of bomb. It looked like it belonged in a cheap cartoon, although most of the Shadowman's life was like something out of a poor piece of fiction. He had to target something important, but where? There was the obvious answer of bombing the presidents house, or possibly the house of representative of the senate; but they were well guarded and he wasn't great at getting things past security, he once ended up being detained for three hours for trying to take a bottle of wine into the country. Eventually he picked Freedom Square (built to celebrate the end of the war with Greater Travoknia) which was packed with people and the mayor of Dalton happened to be making a speech.

He walked off after he planted it under the stand that the mayor was making his speech from, it went off at exactly the right time. The mayor was killed, so were several other people and a few were injured. The press went mad and eventually they found what they thought was the culprit, a small group of fascist based in Mulberry. Sure they weren't the culprits, but the Shadowman felt it hard to feel sorry for them though as, while he was mostly apolitical, he still found fascists rather unpleasant. But now he felt sick, he was responsible for the deaths of many innocent people for a cause he didn't believe in (although he believed in having loads of money, but I meant ponyism). He shrugged, he would head of, get his payment and run away before they could change their minds.

by **Carmadin** » Sun Jan 06, 2013 1:23 pm

The Greats of Carmadin Literature-The Quest for the Orb

As my RPs this cycle, I'll be posting some of the rough draft and ideas of the novel i'm beginning to write, which is IC written by Carmadese authors. I hope you all enjoy.

Prologue

For centuries, the Ya'oxžufa, or Wizards, were the most respected and esteemed members of all the human race. Even amongst the other races of the world, the Ya'oxžufa were held in great reverence, and the kings of the forest-dwellers, mountain-dwellers, and water-dwellers would come from far and wide to seek the council of an Oxžufa. They could do amazing things, bending the power of the elements with only their hands, and channeling their will into the energy of fire, water, earth, stone, or shadow.
Whenever a pestilence or some evil was to fall onto one of the great kingdoms, the Ya'oxžufa would dispense of it with not a thought, and in this way, the world was free of evils and hate, and the world's great Kingdoms lived in peace for many thousands of years

It was Three Thousand years to the day before our story starts, that a young teenager named Tlareð came to the great tower of the Ya'oxžufa. He had journeyed many miles to the tower, come to receive training to become one of the great wizards himself. He had discovered, at an early age, his ability to bend the forces of shadow and darkness to his will, and had come to train with Ikeðep, the master of shadow. Ikeðep was a kind man, and he taught how to use the shadow's power for good, and how to bend dark into the usage of the light. Even his name meant "ink", a darkness used for good.
After years of training, Tlareð became one of the most powerful Ya'oxžufa the tower had ever seen, powerful and mighty beyond all others. He went and did good wherever the forces of shadow caused evil, and his name was known far and wide.
It was the custom of the Ya'oxžufa in those days to impart their knowledge and training into small marbles, imbued with a powerful magic. These crystal marbles could then be used to impart their teachings to younger trainees, and much of the knowledge of the Ya'oxžufa was stored in these marbles.
When Tlareð turned thirty, he was given the crystal that he would use to create his own marble, and to impart his teachings, as the greatest shadow master, onto younger Ya'oxžufa. He spent many days and many nights in a tower chamber with his master, Ikeðep, working the crystal, and imbuing his knowledge and expertise into it.
In the seventh month of the crystal's 8-month creation, he journeyed to the Cave of the Shadows, where the most powerful energy of the Shadow and Dark was held.
This was raw, wild elemental energy, not bent toward the force of good, as had been all the other energy he had encountered.
What visions Tlareð had in that cave, what horrors swirled around him in the dark as he meditated, we could only guess. But when he left that cavern, the tendrils of the shadow still clinging to him, he was changed forever. He had seen visions of power, of victory, and of a new world. Of the great kingdoms, united under one banner. Of the Ya'oxžufa, acting not to protect, but to enforce.

He strode back through the gates of the tower, and stole seven more crystals, then climbed the spiral stairs to the hall of the masters.
His power unleashed from his fingertips, the shadow was terrible to behold. He was to be the sole master of the Ya'oxžufa, and none would stand in his way.
The great Ya'oxžufa, the masters of their elements, fell before his power. All who were in the tower were killed. Only Ikeðep remained, on a cushion, meditating in a corner. He barely looked up when his former apprentice raised his hand to kill his beloved master.
As the shadow's tendrils reached out to strike Ikeðep, eyes still closed, he drew his blade, allowing the dark energy to be absorbed into the shadow-infused metal. The battle that ensued would go down as one of the greatest ever.
As the two fought on the top of the tower, Tlareð struck Ikeðep down. As the master lay at his feet, Tlareð proclaimed himself king of the earth, the grand Oxžufa, the Necromancer. But the Necromancer's reign over the world was to last only seconds.
With his final breath, Ikeðep gathered all the energy he possessed, his life force, his dark and light energy, the energy of the tower, of his blade, and released it all in a massive explosion of shadow. Both the physical and spiritual was ripped apart by the force of the darkness. The tower that had stood for millenia, crumbled. The forests turned to waste, the mountains shuddered. The ocean roared. And the Necromancer's spirit and soul was torn into eight parts, one part seeking refuge in each of the crystals he had stolen, and the greatest crystal, that which contained his knowledge and power, was turned into the very embodiment of his consciousness.

For six hundred years, the eight crystals lay with the ruins of the Oxžufa Tower, when, quite by chance, a king of one of the Seven Kingdoms happened upon them. Thinking them magnificent jewels, he took them back to his palace, polished them, and had them sent to the kings of the other six kingdoms as a gift of goodwill, for tensions were high in that day, without Ya'oxžufa to keep peace. He kept the large orb, and one of the jewels, for himself.
That night, the Necromancer saw his chance. He began, slowly at first, to channel his consciousness from the Orb into the King, slowly but surely poisoning his mind, making him ever more attached to the one marble he had kept. Soon, he became so corrupted he needed the other six, and he sent messengers to reclaim the crystal from the other kingdoms. But the Necromancer had corrupted the minds of all holders of a crystal, and all had become jealous and cruel.
That night, the Necromancer possessed the King, and sent out the armies of what was now his kingdom to reclaim the crystal.
Thus, the Great War started, and it lasted for three hundred years. The crystals of power were jealously guarded, and millions of lives were lost, as war raged for centuries.

When the King Keropal came to power, he inherited the Orb and the crystal, and became the Necromancer's target. But he, seeing what the crystals were, spent his life building a dark fortress to hold them, blocked with powerful spells and magic. Here, the Orb was placed, and on his deathbed, King Keropal smashed the crystal.

The war was over, and from it the world had been decimated. The earth and forests had been stripped bare. The rivers were dry, and what had once been cropland was now bleak waste. On the plains of Þlarð, the Dark Tower dominated the wasteland, and inside it, the Spirit of the Necromancer, trapped once more inside the orb, screamed and wailed, for it had been imprisoned at last.

For a thousand years, there was peace in the world. The forests grew back, the land became green. The plains of Þlarð became a place of legend, of myth. The Ya'oxžufa were all but forgotten.

But today, a dark cloud gathers over the plains of Þlarð. Lightning whirls and strikes at the fortresses surrounding it, and the Kings grow uneasy. The deep vaults where the crystals are held begin to shake and rattle.

For the Necromancer is rising.

by **Cowardly Pacifists** » Sun Jan 06, 2013 1:23 pm

The Cowardly Pacifists'
World Cup 63 Report

Bringing you up-to-date exploits of the Chickens Football Club, as well as other notable football news

RARE DOUBLE EDITION!!
CITY-WIDE BLACKOUT SPOILS MD3 MATCH

0 - 0

Fresh off their first win of the qualifiers, the Chickens returned to Phrytton for MD3 expecting to finally meet the enigmatic team from Free Swiss States. Unfortunately, just after the FSS team landed a rogue wave knocked free one of the primary cables connecting the Cowardly Capital to the off-shore wind farms it relies on for power. As a result, the whole city - including the Chickendome - went black for about 4 hours. Coach McKinney pleaded with World Cup officials to postpone the match while a repair crew could work on the lights, but officials insisted that matches must be played according to the strict Qualifier Schedule.

As a result, the match was run with both team forced to "play" in the dark. With absolutely no light, the Chickens couldn't even see their Free Swiss States opponents, much less play the ball up field and try for a goal. As would be expected, the fiasco ended at regulation time in a 0-0 draw.

The incident has Chickens management looking into emergency generators for the stadium so this won't happen again. An official grievance has been filed with the WCC.

Notable Injuries: Chickens substitute Defender Allan Ford accidentally ran tripped over the team bench in the darkened stadium. He is expected to miss the match against Wight with a bruised knee.

Quote of the Day: "*Bleep*ing green energy my *bleep*. I missed a whole game!! Do you know how much I spent on those tickets?! Yargle Bargle!! Blaarg!!" - angry fan Bill Frankle; on the power outage that blackened the Chickendome during MD3.

DEFENSE STIFLES SONDRY FOLK; CHICKENS LAY SECOND EGG IN A ROW

0 - 0

With a 1-1-1 record wrought under strange circumstances, the Chickens wandered into the peculiar land of Wight not knowing what to expect. As a nation, Wight is remarkable (ironically) only for its extraordinary average-ness. But one look at their World Cup team full of zombies, "enhanced" big men, and ant colonies leads one to wonder whether they've been lying on international census forms.

The Chickens, unaccustomed to such an unusual opponent, responded with unusual tactics. FB Daniel Woods was was tasked with shadowing Pseudomyrmex Myrme. Armed with a can of Bug-Bee-Gone, Woods excelled at the assignment. In an abundance of caution, Coach McKinney tasked Cruz, Lynch, and Malone with tripling-up on performance-enhanced striker Cleve Scrivenor. Though the player looked more than capable of handling any two Chickens at a time, the constant triple-team ultimately seemed to frustrate him.

With their primary scorers effectively neutralized, the Sondry Folk struggled to find looks against the Chickens. The few shots Wight managed were deftly saved by Goal Keeper Roosevelt Austin, who was obviously fired-up to record his third clean sheets of the qualifiers - especially against the normally prolific Sondry offense.

Unfortunately, the improved backfield came at the expense of the Chickens middle, and the squad seemed incapable of setting up any good looks of their own. Particularly disappointing was the play of young forward Alberto Park, who seemed spooked by Atta Myrme and badly missed on two shots at an essentially open net.

The back-to-back scoreless games puts Pete McKinney in something of a quandary: on the one hand, the defense is undeniably playing at a high level; on the other the offense has been absolutely inept. There are rumors that the Coach is considering a realignment: possibly moving Barber into a forward position, or giving substitute forward Simon Walton more playing time. But as of yet, no official word of a personnel change has come down from the organization.

Notable Injuries: Allan Ford missed the game with a bruised knee but is expected back for MD5.

BONUS Quote of the Day: "What?!" - FB Daniel Woods, on being handed a can of bug spray.

Group 18 News

Battle lines have been drawn over the Group 18 Qualifier Spot, as both New Montreal States and Boring Paradise will enter MD5 with a perfect 4-0 record. NMS, who most recently downed the Free Swiss States 3-1, has a slight +3 GD lead. Boring Paradise's slim win over Amelio has some wondering whether they can close that gap.

Not to be forgotten is Octinstine. Currently ranked 3rd in group, Octinstine is clearly on the war path after beating down Slembana 5-2. After Octinstine come Wight, Slembana, and the Cowardly Pacifists (respectively), who are currently keeping the middle spots quite competitive between them.

Rounding out spots 7-10 are Secundus Kasius, Nation M, the Free Swiss States, and Amelio. Secundus Kasius and Nation M are still to be regarded as competitive - they are only a couple points behind Cowardly Pacifists. Secundus Kasius beat M by a score of 2-1 recently, so there's a little doubt about which team is more likely to be more competitive going forward. With their draw against the Chickens, Free Swiss States is marginally ahead of basement-dweller Amelio.

Did You Know?: Drug use is particularly high in Amelio (the Chickens next opponent), leading some to speculate that the Amelio FC may be on steriods. Or... something else (or both).

by **Vettrera** » Sun Jan 06, 2013 1:47 pm

The military council met again to discuss the terrorist attacks in Vettrera, only this time Antonia had uncovered some new information on the subject.

"Can we hurry this up, I'm really getting tired of jetting from Huddleston to Cape Marshall every damn time someone finds a new nugget of info about the terrorists." said Drew Brierra, a Huddleston representative.

"Yes, I'm honestly over all of this as well. If the terrorists want to divide the nation, let's just beat then to the punch and go ahead and split up. We do this every 50 years or so. We might as well get this over with." Kensley Yeats said.

"My God, can we please have one meeting without you right-wings bringing up secession." said Democratic Party leader, Aaron Parkes said.

"Oh wow, I"m surprised you even believe in god." Kensley Yeats replied.

Antonia finally walked into the strategy room, telling everyone to shut up per the norm.
"Okay, okay, that's enough. Thanks to my brilliance, I now have a decent idea of who could be behind the VEA murder plots."

"Are you going to tell us, or are you just going to leave us in suspense?" Marshall said jokingly.

Antonia ignored him and resumed speaking "So, we have been able to capture 8 of the cops who are believed to have acted in some of the VEA Murders. After a bit of research, I realized that they were not born in Vettrera, but they were born in the protectorate of Oakbrook, and all held prominent roles before they immigrated to Vettrera."

"So you think that the Oakbrookian Government is behind this." Leslie Melbourne said, begging the question.

"I wasn't finished...It's obvious that Oakbrook wouldn't be behind this because we told them that they can have their full independence whenever they want. Now I also did some more background research and found out that all these people are of Detrian Heritage. And, as you all know, Detria was the nation which we defeated in the war to free the now semi-autonomous nation of Oakbrook. Not ONLY that, but the 'cops' also had ancestors who were prominent members in the Detrian government. So we have reason to believe that this uprising is being orchestrated by a Detrian Pride Group. Of which, only 5 exist in the entire world."

"So to recap. A Detrian Pride group is interrogating & murdering Vettreran spies in an attempt to find sensitive information and leak it to the public, so the provinces of Polluxia and Castor will start a civil war? " said the Huddleston representative.

"Precisely." Antonia said.

by **Darmen** » Sun Jan 06, 2013 2:41 pm

Darmen secures three points from Velkomorave
Showdown with Jedi8246 awaits the All Greens

Tor Tong Lee scored two spectacular goals in the 17th and 43rd minutes, and George Pele played well in the place of Bryan Faulkner, scoring the game winning goal in the 79th minute. Velkomorave scored in the 28th and 58th minutes.

Tor Tong Lee's first goal was created all by the great man himself. After sending the Velkomoravan defender the wrong way (in fact the poor defender twisted his ankle on the play, and hobbled around for the next ten or so minutes), Lee proceded to perform a rainbow kick. It was this rainbow kick which scored the goal, as the Velkomoravan Goalkeeper could only watch helplessly as the ball went over his head.

Lee's second goal came off of a Gene Turko corner, as Lee rose higher than everyone else to score the third goal of the match, and putting the All Greens once again on top, 2-1.

George Pele, who replaced Bryan Faulkner in the lineup, put his rare start to good use. Playing well through much of the match, and creating several chances which were not capitalised on, Pele finally scored in the 78th minute, after recieving a long pass from Luca Cormio, and volleying the ball past the Velkomoravan goalkeeper. The final 3-2 score, and the three points from the win, pushed Darmen into third place in the Group Six table, behind Jeruselem and Super-Llamaland.

Next up, the All Greens will face their hardest challenge yet, as they will have to take on Jedi8246. The Wyverns are fourth in the table, two points behind the All Greens, and are coming off of a 3-0 win over Kericia.

Duke Francisco Lyons the XXth coronated by the Holy Pupá in Tempala
Lyons the XXth becomes twenty-second Duke of Darmen

Millions of cheering Darmeni's welcomed their new Duke as he exited the Temple of Our Lord in Tempala, following his coronation ceremony. The new Duke will now travel to Scott City, where he will have his first meeting with Prime Minister Scat Peari, and Peari's cabinet.

While the Duke will rule just as his father had, a new Constitution, which is being written by a Constitutional Convention, may limit the new Duke's powers. The Constitutional Convention has not been in session since the 3rd, due to the former Duke's death.

The new Duke did not make any public remarks before or after the coronation, but looked extremely happy as he exited the Temple of Our Lord. He stood alongside the Holy Pupá, Matthew Wilkerson the Ist, and was followed by his son, Lyons the XXIst, and his sister, Janessa, her husband, Marcherian General of the Armies, Maxim Romanov, and their son, Maxwell. The former Duke's wife, Deanna, followed them, and was in turn followed by several other members of the family.

The Duke's distant cousin, Naitpyge Emir Tjak Herumpk, was present at the ceremony, and congragulated the new head of the Darmeni Commonwealth.

by **Hutt River** » Sun Jan 06, 2013 2:42 pm

The team were sat down at the dining room table, having their dinner. Kryten had cooked a variety of meats for their Sunday roast dinner: gammon, beef, lamb, pork, chicken and tuna steaks, along with a variety of vegetables and two dish full of yorkshire puddings. Gravy was included as well, of course, along with some Mustard and mint sauce, which was never ever used because they all thought it was disgusting. Of course it was all too much, but Kryten got all excited when they all sat down at a table together for Sunday dinner, and of course over prepared to the maximum. The leftover could be used for sandwiches, toasties and perhaps a stew or the next day's dinner.

The Cat entered the room. He was often late, which he claimed wasn't his fault because the time of dinner conflicted with his sleep schedule. Almost everything conflicted with the Cat's sleep schedule. But Lister didn't really care this time. He had scored 4 goals the last match. Cat sat down at the table at the only remaining seat, which was to the right of Lister, and began to grab some food. Lister watched as he put 5 tuna steaks on his plate.

"Enough fish for you?" he said
"A cat's gotta eat. I deserve it anyway" the Cat said before attacking the tuna
"You're right about the last part. You were brilliant out there. That free-kick was fantastic." Lister said, staring at the Cat. He then turned his eyes to Kryten. "Hey Krytes, come over here. Have a sit down. You've done enough work for today."
"I suppose you're right, sir. I'll be over in a second"

When Kryten arrived, Lister pulled up a chair and invited him to sit down between him and the Cat. Lister continued eating his food for a couple more minutes, until he stopped, swallowed and turned to talk to Kryten, who was twiddling his mechanical thumbs, looking around.

"Have you got anything to tell me, stories, about you day, major, or minor announcements?"
"No, sir, nothing to tell you. I can't think of anything."
"Aw, come on. Haven't you got any stories to tell?"
"Like?"
"Like...", Lister searched for an example, "what happened with you and the Cat when me and Rimmer were marooned on that moon."
"Haven't I told you about this before? Or were you distracted by Mr. Rimmer chasing you around the ship with a hacksaw?"
"I can't remember you telling me, so probably the latter."
"Ok then, I'll tell you"

Full length dress mirrors take up a lot of space. Blue Midgets aren't built to be spacious. Cramming ten full length dress mirrors into a compact ship is no easy task, but it was one the Cat was willing to undertake for the sake of fashion. While Kryten navigated the Midget away from Red Dwarf, Cat wrestled with the mirrors, trying to set them up so he'd be able to see himself at all times. Occasionally he'd be distracted by his own reflection, and would stop to admire it for a while before getting back to work. He finally managed to get the last mirror in place by taking up the fridge and moving it to the rear of the cabin.

Cat stood in the middle of the room to revel in his handiwork. He could see himself from all angles, his image echoing through an infinite series of reflections. There were thousands of him, each as beautiful as the last. He imagined that each reflection was another universe, where somebody looked in a mirror and saw a glimpse of him. They'd probably faint on the spot, then put out their own eyes in the knowledge that they'd never see anything so gorgeous again for the rest of their lives. Then Kryten walked in, and the mirrors caught the mechanoid in their crossfire. If people saw that, Cat thought, they might still put their eyes out, if not for quite the same reason.

"Sir, would it be possible for you to move this mirror?" Kryten asked, indicating the one that was furthest to the back of the ship.

Cat wondered what could possibly be so important that his shrine to self needed to be desecrated. "No it wouldn't. Why?"

"It's blocking the rearview mirror. I suppose we could leave it there, if you insist, but if we get pulled over, we'll almost certainly get a ticket for it."

Cat turned his head this way and that, admiring his latest hair-do. "I'm willing to take the risk, bud."

Kryten looked between him and the mirror, receiving no attention from the feline. "If I may ask, sir, what is the aim of this activity? ...Sir? Hello?" The Cat, mesmerized by his own gaze, jumped when Kryten waved a hand in front of his face. "My rudimentary understanding of recreational activities has lead me to find that there is usually some end to be achieved, whether it be getting drunk out of one's skull or pinning a pointy stick on the picture of a scantily clad woman who purports to forecast the weather. I wanted to know what yours was."

"You're asking me why I like looking at myself? Bud, the answer's staring you in your so-called face. After I was made, God broke the mould, threw in the towel, left the building and locked it behind him."

"Are you really going to keep this up for the entire twelve hour trip?" Kryten asked, worried that he'd have to leave a space around the Cat when he mopped the floor.

"As much as I'd love to, I got a busy schedule to stick to. I have a nap coming up in half an hour, followed by you serving me lunch, and somewhere in there I have to come up with the time to respray this place. I can't let my scent fade, otherwise people will forget who this big shiny thing belongs to. In fact," Cat said, checking his watch, "I should probably get a head start on that nap." He struck one last pose, then headed for the cockpit, walking backwards and throwing kisses to the mirrors. He settled down in one of the passenger seats, tilted back so he could drift off comfortably.

Kryten started cleaning the glass on the mirrors, contemplating as he scrubbed. Mechanoids weren't built to sense beauty in others. They had to be able to tell people apart, certainly, but as far as telling if a humanoid was attractive or not, most droids not designed to aid in the fashion business were out of their depth. He could find the shape of a toilet bowl or a vacuum cleaner appealing. Maybe if somebody's face resembled a really well-made feather duster, the kind where the feathers didn't fall out all over the place, he might begin to grasp the concept.

It certainly was a fascinating concept, vanity. Kryten searched through his internal library for information on the phenomenon. It was usually considered a character flaw, although small doses of it seemed to be beneficial. Whatever it was, it was outside of his programming. Kryten wiped the last smears of cleaning fluid from the mirror he was working on.

The inside of Blue Midget resembled a day-care center at the end of the day, with all the little oddments lying around just begging to be put away. Kryten tried organizing as best as he could, although he couldn't really see any reason that a wig, a stuffed hippo, or a book about Spot the Dog should be on board. He put the wig on the hippo and set it up on a shelf with the book as though it were reading it.

"Oh, jellyfish!" Kryten exclaimed when the ship suddenly stopped moving, and he flew with a crash into one of the mirrors at the front of the cabin.

by **Cambirano** » Sun Jan 06, 2013 3:05 pm

Part 1

The Kid Who Only Played Chess

Part II

A small town in Cambirano, 18 years before World Cup 63

The torn, threadbare jacket wrapped around his shoulders did little, if anything, to stop the onslaught of the frigid weather. He tried to keep its heads within its confines, but this prevented from seeing the sidewalk in front of him, another of his necessities.

Although maybe the most danger came from behind him, back where he was coming from, back where it was familiar, where he knew how to live, how to get by. Out here, everything was unknown, strange, foreign.

He looked around, into shop windows, into other people's daily lives. Here was a baker, selling two loaves to a petite woman in a faded blue dress and olive green overcoat. There was a shoe salesman, measuring a little girl's foot, as a well-dressed man with a gray suit coat looked on, calculating the cost of footwear in his head.

It was this image that jolted Theo back to the gravity of his situation. Right now, he had nowhere to go, no warm fire to recline by, no guarantee of a warm meal. He'd left that all behind when he'd embarked on this new chapter of his life. It wasn't a decision he'd made lightly; in fact, he'd been considering it for almost a year. He had really planned it out, quite expertly, he felt. He thought he had considered every contingency, every possible happening.

But he hadn't.

"Kid!" he heard someone shout behind him, and, unable to stop himself, Theo turned.

It was an elderly man with a receding, graying hairline, a wispy charcoal gray mustache, who wore a golden spectacle and a pinstripe suit with jet black shoes. He looked like he had money, lots of it, and for some reason Theo was terrified of him.

"What are you doing away from the orphanage?"

He almost ran right then. Who was this man? An agent of the orphanage? Someone who worked like a slavecatcher, but for orphans? What would they do to him? Torture him? Rip off his fingernails? Would Ms. Swanson whip him? Deprive him of food for a week?

Another question troubled Theo. How did he know he was from the orphanage? He hadn't exactly broadcasted it to the entire world. In fact, he'd tried desperately to make sure no one would find out. After all, if anyone saw him, they'd know immediately where he belonged, and then he'd be back at Norterre's instantly.

"I'm talking to you," said the man, still eyeing Theo cautiously. Now he started to walk towards Theo, who merely stood there.

"Now, I see you've got this jacket. You're from the orphanage. Now what are you doing away from there? Answer me."

So that's how he'd figured it out: the worn label of Norterre's Children's Home on the back of the jacket that Theo had only grabbed at the last moment as he snuck from the boys' bedroom. It had been his downfall.

"Well sir," he said, "I'm getting away."

"Why, boy?"

Theo thought for a moment. What could he tell the man? How he cried himself to sleep every night out of shame and humiliation at the day's events? How he always embarrassed himself on the athletic fields, being the last person picked? How the overseer had burned his collection of books the first day he'd gotten there?

But it was deeper than that, and so right then and there, Theo let it all out: his sorrow at the deaths of both his father and mother within a week of each other, his torturous week with Aunt Jenny, how he'd pleaded with her to let him live in an orphanage, only to be let down by the poor treatment, the hazing, the bullying.

And by the time he was done, he was staring at a dilapidated house with yellow panels peeling, shingles hanging off the side of the roof, and the front door off its hinges. And when he looked down, he was staring at the sleeves of the old man's suit. And when he turned around, he saw the smiling face of a man who had seemingly understood and sympathized with everything he'd just said.

"I think we should play some chess," was all he said, as he carried Theo into the house.

by **Socialist States Owen** » Sun Jan 06, 2013 3:09 pm

Second half blitz brushes Sandwich Territories aside
Minister of Sport: ST President 'Al Fresco' is 'most likely a twat with a name like that'
Clint Covey reports from Bastion Arena

FSSO - 5
Pizza 32
Thompson 70
Sharp 73
Feeney 87
Riley 90+2

SANDWICH TERRITORIES - 0

Clinical finishing was the key in Bastion tonight as Sandwich Territories were thrashed by the FSSO, falling victim to five goals including Lee Sharp's 150th for his country.

In a deceivingly even game, the Sandwich Territories had plenty of chances; at least until the 70th minute. The first real chance came after a quiet fifteen minutes, for the away side, via a Luke Havalotti shot which deflected off Julesk Paranaya's boot and wide of the post. Shortly after Havalotti had another opportunity, blasting wide from the edge of the box. Soon though the FSSO got their first shot on target, and displayed their ability to deliver a killer blow by scoring spectacularly from it. Joe Arne Pizza who is so often a threat down the left proved why his left foot is called the deadliest in Eura. Cutting inside Kevin Williams about 30 yards from goal, he ran up to the left hand corner of the box and drove the ball into the opposite corner, leaving Tolliver Ments without a chance of saving it. Before half time Lee Sharp would have a chance to double the advantage, but could only shoot wide when given possession 20 yards from goal by a poor Ments punch away. Sandwich Territories then had a chance of their own, but Devin Alton could only bend the ball wide of the post when awarded a free kick outside the box.

The second half opened as quietly as the first did, before the away side had a flurry of chances starting with a Havalotti shot which struck the bar in the 55th minute. Two minutes later Jackson Barnes forced Daniel Belgrave into a stunning diving save before Zach Banks headed over from the resulting corner. Williams then somehow volleyed wide from the edge of the six yard box, before Banks clipped the post with a curling shot. Sandwich Territories were playing remarkably well but had failed to take their chances, and when they went 2-0 down on the 70th minute the floodgates opened. After Bruce Ments tripped Tom Riley 30 yards from goal, Steve Thompson stepped up and fired in a spectacular free kick from range with great power. Several minutes later it was 3-0 and game over as Lee Sharp turned the ball pass the experienced away team goalkeeper after being supplied by a ground cross from the right by Kieran Kane. Nick Feeney then bagged his second goal in as many games, thumping the ball into the top right hand corner after Ments cleared the ball off the line from a Kane shot.

Tom Riley would then go on to complete the scoring in controversial fashion in stoppage time. Josh Stevenson whipped the ball into the box from the left, and as Riley attempted to control the ball in the air it bounced off his knee and struck his hand, fooling the goalkeeper and allowing the ball to rebound into the net. Riley did not handball intentionally, but nevertheless was lucky to be awarded the goal. Perhaps it wasn't the most convincing performance from the FSSO - and the away side were distracted by the death of one of their star players parents, who had been a great supporter of the team. Regardless of the drama in their private lives the consummate professionals that are the FSSO team had no such issues, and dispatched of the opposition with lethal finishing and satisfactory defending, regardless of the plight of their opposition.

ANALYSIS

Player Ratings

FSSO

1. D Belgrave - 7/10
2. N Feeney - 8/10
5. M Robertson - 7/10 YC
4. J Paranaya - 6/10 (Calaga - 79)
3. JA Pizza - 7/10
16. K Kane - 8/10
6. T Riley - 7/10
8. S Thompson - 8/10
11. J Stevenson - 7/10
10. L Sharp - 9/10
9. S Needle - 5/10 (Xavier - 50)

Substitutes

13. S Neeson
15. M Humphrey
19. D Calaga
20. S Marshall
18. J Cotterill
14. S Xavier
17. S Oslograd

MoM: Lee Sharp
Attendance: 94,504

Possession
EUR - 59 % 41 - SAN
Shots
EUR - 13 12 - SAN
On Target
EUR - 10 5 - SAN
Corners
EUR - 6 7 - SAN
Pass Completion
EUR - 80 % 64 - SAN
Fouls
EUR - 13 17 - SAN

TABLE AND SCORERS

Group 7 Table

Group 7                   Pld    W   D   L    GF   GA   GD   Pts
     1 The FSSO                    4    4   0   0    14    2  +12    12
     2 United Gordonopia           4    4   0   0     7    2   +5    12
     3 Saugeais                    4    3   0   1     9    4   +5     9
     4 Yelvoldia                   4    2   0   2     7    3   +4     6
     5 Western Cuba                4    2   0   2     7    8   −1     6
     6 Sandwich Territories        4    2   0   2     3    9   −6     6
     7 Mashiki                     4    1   1   2     7    7    0     4
     8 Newmanistan                 4    1   1   2     4    5   −1     4
     9 Darknesssssss               4    0   0   4     3    9   −6     0
    10 Lunar Republic Islands      4    0   0   4     2   14  −12     0

FSSO Scorers

Lee Sharp - 2
Nick Feeney - 2
Steve Thompson - 2
Sam Needle - 1
James McCroft - 1
Josh Stevenson - 1
Skorji Oslograd - 1
Kieran Kane - 1
Jim Cotterill - 1
Joe Arne Pizza - 1
Tom Riley - 1

FSSO Assists

Steve Thompson - 2
Josh Stevenson - 2
Tom Riley - 2
Kieran Kane - 2
Jim Cotterill - 1
Skorji Oslograd - 1
James McCroft - 1
Nick Feeney - 1
Michael Robertson - 1
Mickey Smith - 1

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

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

What Sien and Garret did not realise was that this room was bugged. Every inch of it. Harker had listened to their conversation on an earpiece, and smiled innocently as they returned - he knew what their gambit was. "I think you misunderstand. The prisoner deal is...less critical now. You will pay damages, regardless of whether you sign this document or not. That much is clear. However, this offer is a different topic. It will be beneficial for your nation to come under the umbrella of the Euran community. This is not annexation; to state that is the case is simply incorrect. It is, perhaps, to some degree a submission - but only a submission by the West Angolan state, and not the people. They will remain under democratic rule by other West Angolans, we will make sure of that. The only area in which you lose autonomy to a significant extent is in the area of foreign policy. Otherwise you will only be called upon to dedicate yourselves to Eura in the case of an extreme national crisis, which I am sure will never occur. We won't disable your military though, in fact it will remain autonomous, but come under the overall command of Euran leaders."

Harker walked around the table, a pen in hand, smiling at Garret. "You look troubled, Mr Garret. Believe me, this is not an annexation or an occupation, a destruction of autonomy. It is an announcement of partnership, and friendship in time, where we will dedicate ourselves to you as you have done to us. While we do expect West Angola to pledge certain loyalties as a nation, and to submit to an extent as a state, you have our word that we will protect you. If your economy falters, Eura will help lift you out of the gloom of recession. If your defences weaken, Eura will defend you, and attack on your behalf if necessary. Moreover, the annual stipend you will be provided with will be moderately large and will provide your government coffers a significant boost to spend. Provided you spend it appropriately of course; there will be repercussions if you piss away our kindness on luxury yachts for politicians if a single man woman or child of your nation goes hungry as a result." Harker put the pen on the table, and stepped back. "I assure you, you are not signing away the freedom of your people purely for ten thousand football fans. The fans fate is and always has been irrelevant to the proposal."

by **Mesoland** » Sun Jan 06, 2013 3:16 pm

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

BLUEBIRDS STUN THE TERNS

Mesoland 3
Nazakofye 60, Bulu 70, Nukaba 75

Polar Islandstates 2
Kvitchenko 18, Oyen-Spekke 52

Tabarak's Pekolé Stadium, packed to the rafters with football followers from around the world. On paper, the Islandstates were clear favourites, however it was widely known that the on the pitch, the game would almost surely produce a footballing spectacle like no other.

Mesoland's defending during the first period of the first half was poor to say the least, with Kvitchenko and Elmsvikur having eleven shots on goal between them. Only Ziza Akazambaa's positioning and diving prowess kept the duo from breaking the deadlock, however the back line's abysmal tackling deservedly ended up putting the bluebirds 0-1 down to the terns after eighteen minutes, Diedrich Kvitchenko working his way past Wilfried Natasu and slotting the shot into the bottom right-hand corner, well out of reach of a motionless Akazambaa.

The defence failed to learn its lesson, however, and the two Islandstates' strikers were denied several times more by the woodwork or the glove of Ziza Akazambaa. Nukaba, who was being doggedly marked by Urfstadt had little to do but play passes; his usual style of explosive, running football and on-the-move footwork foiled by the strong Islandstate defence. The bluebirds were lucky to enter the changing rooms at half time just a single goal down, and Bert Giazanba's obvious frustration at the Meso defence was reflected by the fact that he had pulled off the two centre-backs, Natasu and Majukalile, to be replaced by LaFonte and Tufa. The double change made a drastic difference to the game, with Tufa and LaFonte both closing down on the Islandstates' attackers, drawing them in and dispossessing them as worked on at the training camp in Tabarak.

Despite the defensive turn-around, the terns scored once more, this time courtesy of an excellent Oyen-Spekke header, the centre back exploiting Mesoland's weakness at corners with a solid leap above his marker to nod the ball into the back of the net. Giazanba used his final substitute immediately after the 52nd minute goal, bringing Schmitt off for Zuraya Bahazio, the elder of the two Bahazio brothers.

Much to the delight of the home support, the blues pulled one back on the hour mark, the captain Nazakofye scoring his first goal of the tournament with a hurried effort from the edge of the six yard box following a raucous goalmouth scramble. Giazanba quickly ordered his men into an ultra-attacking style, fully aware that leaving just 18 year old LaFonte back to defend would leave the blues open to dangerous counter attacks. Luckily for Giazanba, his tactic of holding possession and pressuring paid off. Bulu found himself in space thanks to a cleverly worked pass from Nazakofye, and he chipped the rushing keeper to level the scores with twenty minutes left on the clock. Now it really was time for some Nukaba magic.

Giazanba continued to order his defenders forward, in the vain hope that the bluebirds would clinch a winner and steal all three points from Islandstaters, and his pluck once again paid off! Balotelli made a dazzling run into the heart of the Islandstates's defence before lofting the ball out right to Z. Bahazio, who volleyed in a cross for the ball to be met by none other than Beritata Nukaba, who chested it down onto his left foot and smashed it into the middle of the goal, over a motionless Rasmus to put the blues in front. The whole team spent the final fifteen minutes defending for their lives as Polar Islandstates went in search of a late equaliser, however thanks to some brave blocking and some fairly hefty tackles, the blues held out for a famous victory over the world number 8s. Man of the match was the Meso captain, Ikarba Nazakofye, who helped Mesoland to victory with a goal and an assist.

This most recent triumph has bumped Mesoland up once more, the blues now joint second (with Jukenia) in group 13, behind first placed Audioslavia on goal difference only. Amazingly, Mesoland have scored the most goals so far in the group (11) yet have conceded the most (9, in conjunction with Nethertopia), something which the defending coaches may have to look at. Mesoland next face unranked Jukenia away, in a game which Mesoland should win by a comfortable margin.

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

by **Audioslavia** » Sun Jan 06, 2013 3:50 pm

With Sue Dysos back to look after the bairn, Jeremy Jaffacake left Audioslavia to endulge in some proper, actual journalism work. The journey to Wight from the ancient land of Audioslavia, a sprawling mass of charred wasteland deep in the southern hemisphere, took fourteen hours by plane, with a stop-off in Falcania. Jeremy landed in Wight at midnight, stumbled into a hotel and slept for some sixteen hours, waking up on the Wednesday evening only to turn on his laptop to follow the minute-by-minute reports on Audioslavia's encounter with Traila in World Cup qualifying. 3-0. A job well done. A long, lazy night of sleep in fits and starts meant he was up and about at 7am, the earliest he'd risen in quite a while, with a hazy, odd feeling that he attributed to the jet-lag, later realising that it was simply how Wight was. He got to the meeting room at 8:30am, half an hour earlier. He lit a cigarette, looked out onto the street and....

"Oh god" said Jeremy, dropping his freshly-lit cigarette onto the floor. That thing. That monstrosity, it was here. Shining in the dim, early morning sunlight, polished and intricately decorated in brown and cream, like a bowling trophy in a 1970s council house, a huge Scammell Explorer 6x6 ballast tractor. It could only belong to one man.

"Jeremy" came a voice behind him. Jeremy turned round.
"You.."
"Yes. Me. How is it going? I haven't seen you since... hmm... I can't remember"
"You can't remember? I bloody well can" said Jeremy, picking his cigarette up off the ground and pointing it accusingly at the man. "I paid to you redecorate my house, must have been forty years ago. Gave you a few grand in good faith, and I left the country to go to Krytenia. I came back. Shakerssen, I came back to find... that thing"
"It was stylish"
"It was a vortex into the second circle of hell"
"Yeah, that was a misunderstanding. It was a very pretty shade of lilac, though"
"Misunderstanding? I'll say! I told you I wanted my living room to look like a penthouse, and you put a f***** vortex into hell in it"
"Like I said, misunderstanding" said Shakerssen, scratching his head, "I thought by 'penthouse' you meant the porn magazine. Second circle of hell was the one for 'lust' and so..."
"Why would i want a front room that looks like a porn magazine?"
"Well..."
"And why on earth would your version of 'room that looks like a porn magazine' have included a [i]vortex into hell. Couldn't you have just ripped up a copy of Razzle and glued the bits to the wall as wallpaper?"
"That would have looked stupid"
"Well, yes, but still.. how does your brain even work?"
"Well you got your money back, didn't you? And you only made the mistake of entering the vortex once"
"Oh, you can't complain, Jeremy" said Jeremy, mimicking Shakerssen. "my mistake only sent you to the fiery depths of gonorrhea-infested hell once"
The argument was stopped in its tracks by a voice, from behind the two Audioslavians. The voice said, simply, Gentlemen.
The two Audioslavians turned to see a posse of suits, and a rather imposing looking fellow standing in front of them.

---

Jeremy hadn't been allowed into the main hall. There, the heads of the Audioslavian government and the aides of King Bua would debate, among themselves, the best way through which to re-imburse Audioslavia for the 'Wight Catastrophe' of eight years ago. The diplomatic path had been a long, winding one, beginning with the near destruction of the Audioslavian island of Kjeligsted and ending, two weeks ago, with the agreement that Wight pay for repair works on Kjeligsted and the drainage of the islands around it, most of which Naitpyge had laid claim to, but that Audioslavia were confident of acquiring through international courts, if need be. Jeremy was annoyed that he'd not been allowed in to report on proceedings. The initial diplomatic agreement had included a provision that Audioslavia's media could attend the talks, but when only Jeremy Jaffacake turned up - for only he had sufficient constitution to brave the decidedly odd lands of Wight, it was generally agreed that he sit out the meeting. He had, however, had a word in Shakerssen's ear, and the old decorator-turned-removals man had agreed to meet him in a nearby drinking parlour.

Jeremy nursed his glass of odd-looking Wightling 'soda' and wished he hadn't given up drinking.

When Shakerssen finally arrived it was a number of hours later, after Jeremy's resolve left him and the solitary bottle of Audioslavian whisky the drinking establishment had behind the counter was halfway drained.

to be continued

by **Old Guard** » Sun Jan 06, 2013 3:51 pm

The team had returned home from the training camp in the hills and had gone back to usual life. Except for a few, as Iskander the Third, Rightful King of Old Guard had now joined the team and its entourage under the official title as 'chief assistant' which of course meant nothing and was merely a way of sneaking him into Oldem under the not very watchful eyes of the supposed ruler, Lord Askain the Wise, who didn't appear to be very wise at all.

Ken had been summoned to meet with Lord Askain after their slight surprise victory over Bordurian, after Xav the Fast, Richard of France and Cath the Unreasonable had all made their way onto the scoresheet.

After a short drive through the centre of Oldem in Lord Askain's very swanky car, they eventually made their way to his seaside villa, two miles out from Oldem. It was a majestic building and very much a grand house as you'd expect for a ruler of a small, generally underdeveloped country. After they pulled into the drive way, they were shown through to the house. Once they reached the study of Lord Askain, The Spectre was asked to remain outside, which he did so grudgingly, whilst Ken was shown in.

He entered into a medium-sized room, which large, quite garish paintings on the wall and a large oak desk placed in the centre of the room. Sitting behind it was Lord Askain, dressed in a silk gown and smoking a unnecessarily long pipe. He looked up as the door closed behind Ken, and said in a quite rasping voice;

"Ah, you must be Ken, it is alright if I call you that? Please, take a seat." he motioned to a chair sitting to the right of the desk, which Ken promptly took. As he sat, he noticed that it was in fact lower than the desk, immediately placing himself as a subject to the ruler.

"So, how's the football going," he continued, a hint of a smile playing on his face.

"Er, well, 2 wins out of 4 is a good start especially when you consider our ranking, especially as the losses were against higher ranked opposition." said Ken, trying to say it as succinctly a possible.

"Hmm, yes, and what do you think of Old Guard as a country?" To this Ken paused, to tell the truth or not?

"Well, it's certainly quite different, and travels at a slow pace, which is refreshing I suppose," he lied, although it seemed to please Lord Askain.

"Glad you think so," he leaned forward at this, "now to get to the real point of this meeting. Certain... men of mine tell me that you have been fraternising with a known enemy of Old Guard, Iskander the Third. I should hope these rumours be true, or, well the consequences will be severe." Ken gulped, how the hell did he know that? He sighed, this was something to be said,

"Well, as much as I'd like to appease you, sir, I'd have to say that its true, I am a friend of Iskander and I believe that his claim is a valid one." Lord Askain gave Ken a pained look, as if who was this foreigner to come in a tell us what was what.

"I don't think I can let this pass, Ken. As much as you're in quite a popular position at the moment, I give you two days to give up Iskander, or I'll call the Old Guard on you. You are dismissed." he said sharply, before turing back to the book he was studying. Ken slowly got up and walked out. As soon as Ken had turned around, Lord Askain leant down and pushed a button under his desk.

Ken marched into the waiting room outside the study and kept on walking. The Spectre leapt to his feet, before booming;

"WHAT IS OCCURRING!! WHERE ARE YOU GOING?"

"He's onto us. Run." said Ken breaking into a trot as he realised that men were heading down a corridor towards him. They were armed.

The Spectre caught up with surprising ease, and they ran out of the house. A shot rang out, clearly a warning shot.

"Shit" muttered Ken, continuing to run, whilst realising that the spectre had stopped. He turned around to see what he was doing just in time to see what appeared to be lightning shoot out from his hands, blasting the guards into the wall of the house. He caught up with Ken at the car which was still parking in the driveway, and after shouting at the driver, jumped into the drivers seat, and promptly started to car.

"GET IN!" he bellowed, as he began to drive. Ken scrambled in to here more shots ring out behind them. He looked over at The Spectre who looked back and then continued to drive. This was going to be a problem.

by **Cyborg Holland** » Sun Jan 06, 2013 3:59 pm

Community Project wins through as Dragons take on Exarsus

Although this match may not be that big in terms of the numbers, it could be very important indeed in the grand scheme of qualifying for the Dragons. The Brullik Highpark ground was originally going to be converted into a 25,000sq m mall, but a community project, which got over 250,000 signatures, saved the ground.

Located in the heart of the northern city of Brullik, the ground is home to Northern League side Lamschaar Brullik AFC, who narrowly avoided going into administration early last year. They are currently just one position in the table away from gaining that lucrative National Electric League spot. All that money would be so good for the club and the area.

The ground currently has the capacity of 2,700, with just 400 seats. Every week, they get about 1000 home fans plus anywhere between 10 and 100 away supporters. Despite the small numbers, they create a fabulous atmosphere for any match.

Last month, the Cyborg Holland Sports Authority, the Sports branch of the Cyborg Holland Governmental Cultural Board, ran a competition to get non-league teams to promote and develop their stadiums, in with a chance to host a World Cup Qualifier between Cyborg Holland and Exarsus, the lowest ranked team they would face.

Brullik Highfield faced competition from 32 other stadiums, and got through to the final voting stage, which was a public vote, against Graatsche Parke in Velthoven, Jaaske City Stadium in Pernerbaum and Röverin Stadium in Eindhoven. The Highfield won by a landslide, and to was chosen to host the game. The leader of the campaign, Martina Voltonova, spoke to CYBSports after hearing the announcement:

It's absolutely amazing, we've worked so hard over the last 6 months. Everyone in the area has got involved, we've wanted this so much, and it's amazing that we've got it.

The Cyborg Holland national team will travel to Brullik to play Exarsus on Matchday 16, with three games remaining. Despite the low stature of the game, it could be vital for the effort to qualify for the Finals/Pods.

The stadium has 400 seats, and can officially stand 2,500. However, it is believed that over 1,000 can be squeezed in, along with the construction of temporary stands to raise the accommodation of the ground to over 5,000. The eyes of the nation will be on the ground, maybe the world, but will it be remembered for the right reasons or the wrong ones?

by **Khytenna** » Sun Jan 06, 2013 4:36 pm

RNC:SPORTS

The Milverki show brings about another lose for Khytenna

Kulverint - 4
Milverki 17th, 61st, 65th, 69th

Khytenna - 2
Firestone 1st, 45th

With an extreamly early goal by firestone, the game looked to be going Khytenna. but an in form Milverki score all 4 goals giving Kulverint the win.

Only a minute had passed in the game, and it seemed that Firestone was the only player fully switched on, a high ball in to the box would of been normaly cleared by any awake defence, but someone how they didn't Firestone move past the defence, before the keeper and his defenders had a chance to get into action, Firestone ended it with a vicious volley into the top left corner, Unstoppable and unbelievable by Firestone, the wonderkid as come of age, and has become the living legend of Khytennan football!

Another player had similar calibre in this game, and that was Milverki who hit back 16 minutes later with a goal of his own, ball in from deep found him and he barged his way past the defenders and placed a perfect ball past troy for the equaliser. Both fan's knew that they where in for a great game. Before the half was out, Firestone put Khytenna back in the lead, the move was made by Carmichael dithcing he defender and moved in the box, he crossed it over Pellett to Firestone, he had all the time in the world, unmarked and unfazed Firestone powered home another past the keeper and gave Khytenna back their lead.

The second half however, belong to home team, it was simply the Milverki show, in the 61st minute and the 8 miutes that followed, he effectivly won the game for Kulverint, the first goal came from a corner, he sailed dangrously to the far post, Milverki ran in and dived for it, it court his head and went to the top right corner of the goal, the crowd went wild as he got back up and ran to celibrate.

4 minutes later he came again to give Kulverint the lead, he made mince meat of the defence as he ran past them with the ball at his feet, and with two players almost hanging of him, he managed to chip the keeper, Testerman nearly cleared it, but it bounced away from him and in to the net. And, after another 4 minutes, he got the 4th goal, a ball crossed from deep in the box was found by him, who ran past the defenders, who just couldn't keep up with him, he had timed the run to perfection. Onside, all he needed to do was put it past troy, which he did in one touch.

Khytenna couldn't get back into the game after this, and what shame, but the day truly belonged to Milverki and the home team. once again Khytenna's chances of a world cup look to faint

the next game will be home against Kandorith who sit one point above the strips, Khytenna will need give more then they are now to beat them if they stand any chance in going to world cup!

by **Falconwhereveryouare** » Sun Jan 06, 2013 5:11 pm

The Eagle's Eye
Reliable reporting year-round
SPORTS
Not in my Backyard!

By Otis Birmingham

If you thought how the Falcons handled Savski Venac was brutal, then the Backyard Sports game was utter insanity. It seemed the just the mere presence of the Backyardigan team twisted reality and confused the hell out of me. First off, the entire other team seemed to be a bunch of little kids. I suppose there's been weirder things to happen (and participate) in the World Cup, so that's not really a problem. So the match started, the Falcons almost immediately using their narrow formation to pump the ball up the field through the relatively disorganized Backyardigans. Chester Highfield opened up the scoring a mere three minutes in; he immediately turned to the almost entirely Falconian fans at Falcon Field and yelled "I'm not Val Kylx, I swear!" After that goal, however... it seemed like both teams gained some sort of supernatural power that would strike at random times, and all conventions of professional footballing went out the window. The first instance of the... well, what can only be described as "power-ups" was when Pablo Sanchez kicked the ball and it turned into a bowling ball. A gigantic bowling ball. That utterly flattened both Somer Liean and Somer Lann and equalized the match. Even more shocking? Liean and Lann just kind of reinflated and got back up after a moment, completely unharmed. Some other odd stuff happened, but they thankfully weren't as worrying as that.

Halth managed two assists on a new definition of ground-ball: he slammed the ball directly down so hard it went underground. And took a u-turn, and popped back up down the field (because fuck logic). Jarrel was nearby both times it popped up, and was able to get them past the rather short Mikey Thomas in goal. The Backyardigans struck back when little Vicki Kawaguchi launched a shot that should not have been possible for a little tu-tu wearing girl; Lann didn't have a chance to stop that cannonball. By that point all sense of form and strategy had disappeared, but it was still apparent that the Falcons were the much better side. Dempsy added to the gaggle of goals with a silly shot from way outside the box that somehow found net, but he comically tripped over himself doing it and scraped his knee. He walked over to the sideline with an exaggerated limp and Myles Marrero came on to fill the empty spot. Not really a specific spot, as everyone was just chasing after the ball, but he added to the blowout with a ball that took two sharp curves en route to the goal. Like someone was drawing a path and it was following along, no matter what physics dictates. If you've lost track (and I wouldn't blame you), that's a 5-2 lead for the Falcons. They did score one more, but in a much more conventional manner, but at quite an unconventional time (at least for the Falcons). For the first time in the Falcon's history of international competition, they scored in injury time. Perhaps the least injury time goal to have ever been scored. Îtem Dan Pacés ran onto the field after the scoreboard showed 90 minutes had passed, presumably for celebration, but was caught in a lurch when the whistle didn't blow and the ball was coming towards him. Thankfully, Liean noticed this and ran off the pitch before the referee could call us for having too many players on the pitch. Dan Pacés reacted as he naturally does when confronted with a football, running down the field and slamming it past the keeper. Wasn't much sense in it happening, but hey, it helps our goal differential.

Elsewhere in Group 8, the most beneficial thing for us happened in the Gyatso-kai vs. Kiryu-shi match: a draw. Both are now only two points ahead of the Falcons, and we take on Gyatso-kai next. A win would put us into at least second place, though that might be a little optimistic. The Falcons have been generating a lot of momentum lately, and I think they should at least be able to tie up the Avatarians long enough to steal a point. A bit further down in the standings, Conclepsia and High Heels are separating themselves from the pack with blowouts of Savski Venac and Vivedin, respectively. Even further down the struggling Torisakian team was held to a draw by the scrappy but overall unimpressive Mirelesins.

Falconwhereveryouare - 6
Chester Highfield, 3'
Art Jarrel, 23', 37'
Perry Dempsy, 53'
Myles Marrero, 64'
Îtem Dan Pacés, 90'+2'
Backyard Sports - 2
Pablo Sandoval, 11'
Vicki Kawaguchi, 42'

World Cup 63 RP Thread

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