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by Mytannion » Tue Jan 08, 2013 2:13 pm

by Darmen » Tue Jan 08, 2013 2:51 pm

by Svengarda » Tue Jan 08, 2013 3:09 pm
by Kandorith » Tue Jan 08, 2013 3:17 pm
☾ Great Empire of Kanyori | 大宮来国 | Arashi Kanyori Yokoku ☽
Overview | Constitution | Anthem | Imperial Anthem | Armed Forces | Foreign Affairs | Emperor
BIOTECHNICA UNVEILS ORGANIC REGENERATION BREAKTHROUGH • ETHICS DEBATE INTENSIFIES OVER ADVANCED A.I. CONSCIOUSNESS TRANSFERS • HACKING ATTACKS ON PERSONAL DATA VAULTS ON THE RISE • KAITO INTERNATIONAL SECURES RECORD DEFENSE R&D CONTRACT WITH KANDORESE GOVERNMENT
by Ko-oren » Tue Jan 08, 2013 3:18 pm


Name: Cold Ground
City: Mayara
Built: 2001
Capacity: 31.000

by Kiryu-shi » Tue Jan 08, 2013 3:28 pm

by Vettrera » Tue Jan 08, 2013 3:36 pm

by Western cuba » Tue Jan 08, 2013 4:17 pm

by West Angola » Tue Jan 08, 2013 4:31 pm

by Lymantatia » Tue Jan 08, 2013 4:48 pm

by Cyborg Holland » Tue Jan 08, 2013 4:54 pm

by Mesoland » Tue Jan 08, 2013 5:04 pm
Mesoland 4
Nukaba 1, 19, 33, Balotelli 22
Traila 3
Von Lictenshtine 58, 74, Lima 80
by New Montreal States » Tue Jan 08, 2013 5:19 pm

by Secundus Kasius » Tue Jan 08, 2013 5:24 pm
Deer Electronic Farts
My name is Milly Guilder and i am 9 years old and i want to be in your futball game. i am very interested in futball, and am the mascot for the Feenixes of Secundus Kasius. We are a good team and have one two matches this world cup but lost yesterday and all my friends are sad. Please let me be in your match so i can cheer them up. i am good at scoring goals but mr Arkwright says id be good at goal keeping if i work on my scary face. If you let me play in your match i promise to work hard on my scary face and be a good goaly. i am top of my class in PE and my teacher says im good at things. also can i bring my mum please cos i cant go places on my own yet please.
i have also included a drawing of me with my scary face and the Feenixes.
Yurs
Milly
XxxXXx

by Super-Llamaland » Tue Jan 08, 2013 6:04 pm

by Taeshan » Tue Jan 08, 2013 6:08 pm

by Socialist States Owen » Tue Jan 08, 2013 6:22 pm

Group 7 Pld W D L GF GA GD Pts
1 United Gordonopia 6 6 0 0 11 3 +8 18
2 The FSSO 6 5 1 0 18 5 +13 16
3 Saugeais 6 5 0 1 14 4 +10 15
4 Sandwich Territories 6 3 1 2 7 11 −4 10
5 Western Cuba 6 3 0 3 8 12 −4 9
6 Yelvoldia 6 2 0 4 9 7 +2 6
7 Mashiki 6 1 3 2 9 9 0 6
8 Newmanistan 6 1 1 4 5 8 −3 4
9 Darknesssssss 6 0 1 5 5 13 −8 1
10 Lunar Republic Islands 6 0 1 5 3 17 −14 1

by Lymantatia » Tue Jan 08, 2013 6:25 pm

by Maklohi Vai » Tue Jan 08, 2013 6:29 pm

by Blouman Empire » Tue Jan 08, 2013 6:31 pm

by United Gordonopia » Tue Jan 08, 2013 6:47 pm


by Karditan » Tue Jan 08, 2013 7:03 pm

by Sandwich Territories » Tue Jan 08, 2013 7:09 pm

by Chunnan » Tue Jan 08, 2013 7:26 pm

by Polar Islandstates » Tue Jan 08, 2013 7:35 pm
Five years is a long time to wait for vengeance. It seemed like forever ago that Kasheyev had gone behind my back and betrayed the entire team to feed details of our contract bid to Hartmann's crew, but the consequences of his defection had set us back years as a company. We'd been relying on that contract. Orrstar didn't sub-contract often, but when they did there were usually plenty of monetary rewards on offer. In this part of Northbrook, there were only two crews that could tackle a contract of that size. Mine, and Hartmann's. And usually, we won them as well.
When I heard that they were going to open up another one of their contracts to a sub, I was all over it like a rash. My number two, Juha Kasheyev, was behind me all the way. Aiding here, helping there, going the extra mile at every opportunity. I made a mental note as we entered the room to present our bid to the Orrstar execs that he should get a raise when everything was sorted. That was before he stabbed us all in the back, of course.
Two minutes into my presentation, he stood up and walked over to the Hartmann crew, sitting down with with them. Unsettled, I delivered my pitch poorly, and when Hartmann stood up to give his, it was full of details that undermined and counter-acted my proposal at every detail. There was no doubt about it, Kasheyev had sold us up the proverbial creek with no means of propulsion. He'd even convinced me to hedge much of the business on getting that contract, which was just cruel in my opinion. I nearly lost the business after that. I had to lay off nearly half of the entire workforce. It was as if I was having to rebuild from scratch all over again. After two years of struggling along, I finally accepted help from my brother, and we started to get things moving again.
The mining industry in Northbrook is a complicated one - especially for us privateers when it comes to battling the big dogs for a bite of the pie. But we kept our heads down, and slowly but surely we were able to start bringing the head of Eriksen International Mining Concerns back up again.
There was still that aching burning feeling in my chest however. That desperate need to settle the score with that traitor Kasheyev and the dirty-dealing Hartmann. So, when I heard that Orrstar were going to be offering another one of their contracts up to the privateers in Hartmann's usual patch in the next couple of years, I knew there was only one way to go about things - we had to win that contract from right underneath Hartmann's nose. I wanted revenge. I wanted vindication. I wanted to rub the best bid imaginable in the faces of those smug worms from Hartmann's. This wasn't just business anymore, it was a personal vendetta.
We didn't know exactly when the bidding process was going to be opened by Orrstar, nor which specific seam of rock they'd be asking us to go for, but that didn't stop us from doing our research. Oh no. I wanted this to be our crowning glory. I hired extra staff against the advice of my brother and I set them to work on the surveys that I paid top dollar to get commissioned specially for the occasion. They had to know the rocks in Hartmann's usual area of operation like the back of their hands. The rest of us were left free to get on with the day to day tasks of making money at our current contracts, but every night I found the time to discuss with my brother and our secretaries just what the bid from us would entail.
Six months were spent drawing up different scenarios for submission based on different possible circumstances asked for by Orrstar - size, length of time, area, things like that. Every conceivable combination had been thought up by me and my staff. By the time the actual bidding process was announced by Orrstar, we'd already spent a cumulative total of more than eighteen months working on the bid. The late nights were killing me, but the thought of rubbing our success in the sour expressions of Kasheyev and Hartmann kept me going. That was my fuel. That was all I was living for. The closer the bid deadline came, the more fixated I became on the task of bidding. I started neglecting the day to day running of the business, leaving it up to my brother much to his protestations, and I hired several new members of staff to help me prepare the best possible bid I could ever conceive of creating. With the deadline two days away, we were nearly finished, and I felt sure that we would win the contract.
Then, just a single day before the bids were due, my new assistant Jesper came to me with some news that changed everything. Whilst booking the courier for the delivery of the bid to the presentations the next day, he'd made the discovery that the courier was coming to us straight from Hartmann's firm, and then going straight onto the Orrstar offices. Best of all, the courier would be Jesper's cousin Stanislav.
The opportunity for sabotage was almost too good to pass up on. Finally, I would have my revenge.
I could almost taste it.
Full of anticipation for the glorious day that would be the bidding day, I gave Jesper the go ahead to do some switching around of labels. First of all, he was to load up a bunch of old documents that we had lying about the office and replace the Hartmann bid with these packages. Then, he was to take the labels off the Hartmann and place them on these new bundles of rubbish. It was so simple. It was perfect. It was going to be spectacular.
The next day, I had a lie-in. Leaving the organisation at the office to Jesper, my brother, and Stanislav, I allowed myself the luxury of getting ready carefully and making myself look impeccable for the executives that would be watching my presentation. It was the best presentation we'd ever prepared. I couldn't wait to present it. Making it ever sweeter would be the fact that the Hartmann crew, complete with the treacherous rat Kasheyev, would be sat there with nothing but a bunch of old rubbish that was plucked from our wastepaper recycling box.
I allowed myself a small chuckle, and set out for the Orrstar office. I arrived just as Stanislav was leaving. He gave me a wink and a knowing smile. I smiled back, and went up to meet the rest of my team in the office. When I got up there, the Orrstar execs were all ready and waiting, as were the Hartmann crew. Fashionably late, I nodded curtly at Kasheyev, who eyeing me from across the room.
"Juha," I nodded.
"Rikyard," he nodded back, his expression impossible to read. Was it fear? Or maybe amusement. Cockiness? Self-assuredness? Oh how satisfying it would be to see the crooked smile wiped from his horrible little face.
"Rikyard, Petter," nodded Hartmann curtly at me and my brother.
"Hartmann," I nodded back, noting that Hartmann at least seemed to be taking things seriously.
"Right, gentlemen, shall we get started?" said the woman in the centre of the judging panel brightly, shuffling her papers with anticipation. "I see no surprises in that we have Eriksen and Hartmann bidding today?"
'Well, we'll just see about 'no surprises'...' I thought to myself with a smirk. Hartmann continued to stare at me quizzically, probably wondering just why I was so confident. I glanced at Kasheyev again, who simply mirrored my own smirk in turn. Misplaced confidence? Or bravado? I couldn't tell.
"Absolutely." I replied to the board, not taking my eyes off the Hartmann crew.
"Would you like to present first, Mr Eriksen?" asked the man on the right of the board. I briefly considered last time I'd been in this situation, being utterly humiliated after presenting first. How nice it would be to turn the tables this time.
"Er, no, no thank you," I said as graciously as I could manage, "let the Hartmann side go first this time."
I sat down with a grin and watched my rivals stand up to humiliate themselves. I nudged my brother and Jesper in the ribs and made myself comfortable. I was going to enjoy this.
So, imagine my terror. Imagine my horror. Imagine the sheer depths that my stomach plummeted to when I realised that I was watching Kasheyev and Hartmann give an incredibly good presentation.
My presentation.
Unable to watch, I held my head in my hands as I heard them recite the lines and read from the sheets that I'd spend hours practising and knew by heart. Even looking away didn't spare me the details, as I knew the presentation so well that at any point I knew which image they were displaying on the flipboard just by the words that they were saying. It was my presentation. Somehow, they'd obtained our work, and were now presenting it, complete with their own Hartmann touches, as if it were their own.
Twenty excruciating minutes later, I managed to stir from my catatonic paralysis just enough to squeak out the most basic of answers when they'd finished the talk.
"What's the matter, Rikyard?" asked Kasheyev with that awful smile of his, "Why, you look like you've seen a ghost!"
"Egah..." I stammered in response. I felt ill.
"I believe you've already met my cousins Jesper and Stanislav?" continued Kasheyev as Jesper stood up and walked over to the Hartmann team. History was repeating itself. The corners of my vision blacked out. Without even checking what was inside out bid folders I knew what they would contain - all the wastepaper I'd been encouraged to switch the Hartmann bid for. Only, they hadn't even got as far as making a bid - Jesper simply stole ours away from us.
"Are you okay, Mr Eriksen?" asked the woman on the left of the board of three, "You really don't look well."
"I... I..." I stuttered, unable to find any words to express what I wanted to say.
I could feel my brother's eyes boring into me. All those extra staff. All those hours spent neglecting the bread-and-butter of the business. All that money spent in the process. All that time spent building us back up once already.
Unless I could think up something incredibly soon, we were ruined...
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