World Cup 64 RP Thread

[Taeshan]

The pounding in your head, the thousands of screaming fans, the boos and cheers. The pressure, the hopes of a nation, the glory of winning, the horror of defeat. The brink of something great, the devastation of failing. All these things go through your mind when you stand ready for a spot kick, everything is in your head. You can push your team into glory it has never seen, but also be seen as the scapegoat for the failure of the nation. Everyone wants to be a hero, but few can be that hero. Few players have performed well in times of great struggle, when they do though they live in infamy, at least until the next time and they happen to fail in their bid for glory.

120 minutes is how long a game goes, plus added time, when the game is still tied the scariest and most heart wrenching spot kicks decide who gets the glory, and who gets to go home. The Purple Knights and the Purple Perils in a brilliant display of defense, 0-0 after 2 hours of regular time, and 3 hours of real time. The day was a beautiful day for some soccer, but even the day was not as good as the defensive battle on the field. No goals would pass either goalie for the whole afternoon. Ryleigh Voegael provided a stout defense, and a brilliant afternoon of stopped shot after shot, as did her counterpart for the Starblaydians. Defense would rule the day, but in the end who had the better strikers, who had the best of their nerves, and who would become heroes decided the fate of the day.

The Knights had the first kick as the "away" side and the lower seed. Forward came striker Brian Kljestan in for Brian Ibrahim in extra time to provide more umph. A nervous looking Kljestan proved his pick when he made the Starblaydi goalie look like a fool with a chip down the center as the goalie dived to the side. The Starblaydian's answered with their own penalty made. Then Andrew Müller came up and sent shockwaves through the crowd with a horribly missed shot, and brought the worry to the Knights and their fans. The Starblaydis took a 2-1 lead. Luckily the response came from Aaron Conrad with a strike hard into the corner, but the Knights fell behind once again at 3-2. Then with a brilliant kick from Gwyn Juniper the Knights were level again, but running out of time for a save or a miss.

Then it came, a shot off of the post. The frame of the goal shook like it was hit by an earthquake, and the cheers from the Knights fans could be heard round the stadium. The New Montreal fans getting into it as well, as no one in the world seems to like Starblaydians and to want them to win another cup, even if the Knights had just been rivals of the Knights only a few days prior. Then Ender Wiggin with the chance to put the pressure on the Starblaydians did just that. A strike so hard to the top left corner the net seemed to snap. The Knights had the chance to move on, and were so close to making it back to the quarterfinals. Back to a chance at glory.

Then Ryleigh Voegael with a chance to get the Knights there. A Starblaydian midfielder who looked like he had a chance to do it, to move on the penalties and make himself important for a few days. The Knights then held a collective breath, hoping for a miss, hoping for a save. The stadium grew quite, too quite. It was eery, very eery. The Knights fans looked in hope, the Starblaydian fans in a similar way. Then there it came, the shot, a hush around the stadium and the save. Then an uproar. The Knights won. They were back to the quarterfinals. Back for a chance to do something that could last forever, to make history. To be forever remembered as World Cup Champions.

Up next is the match the Purple Knights have looked forward to since their loss at World cup 63. The Purple Knights lost by two in extra time, so close to a second making of the quarterfinals in a row. But they unstoppable force beat the immoveable object on their way to glory, an Audioslavian victory over the Starblaydians in a glorious final. Now they stand once again between the Knights and glory. A defensive battle again, two teams who are feared for their defense, two teams not known to score a lot. A second meeting between the unstoppable force and the immoveable object. Can the object win in take two, or will the force be too great for the object to overcome? One wonders if this game will be more about the physics, the defense, or the teams?

[Osarius]

Excerpts from MetOffice reports, collated by MetCentral hours after the event

RENNEA, HEARTHLANDS :: 1443 NST (Nemyan Standard Time, AOCT +1)
We're detecting a sudden surge in atmospheric activity, in several areas of the region. It's unusual for this kind of activity to spontaneously emerge, and the area of coverage is almost impossible. Similar reports received from the Dynapolis, Turic and Kart Hago offices between 1424 and 1431 today also. The entire southern half of the nation is experiencing the same change in conditions.

Doctor Yuri Kovalyov has suggested the electrical activity in the atmosphere is man-made, as there are no documented explanations for the swift spread from micro scale to synoptic scale. We have no way of employing countermeasures to prevent this going global, but an official storm warning has been issued. It's not clear what level of storm we're looking at, but early estimates based on the volume of water rapidly accumulating, and the impending temperature change, suggests we could be looking at a nationwide super storm, at the very least abnormally heavy rain.



Excerpts from the Operation Annihilus debrief, K.I.L.L. Reaper Division, 400 days after the event

It is our belief that Special Agent Granath Three performed admirably in the execution of his task, but ultimately failed to correctly disseminate the techronophage. We know now that the majority of the nanobactechrium will be expiring, and a full recovery is anticipated. Commander Puente wishes to underline his belief that Jorge Valdez (State ID AR103721) -- formerly of K.I.L.L. -- was correct to insist on the presence of a Reaper Division operative at the point of dissemination.

We have not been able to decipher the final signals sent from Special Agent Granath Three's transmitter, and thus the exact reason for the failure is not clear, but it is our belief that he was compromised. His final report -- that we know of -- suggested he may have picked up a tail, causing him to perhaps rush the activation. A rushed activation would explain the Reaper Division recommendation is that our main priority be the concealment of any K.I.L.L. presence or activity within Osarius. It is only a matter of time before they trace it back to us, and they will discern our intention. While there is little threat of war with Osarius, the Reaper Division believes it is imperative that we maintain our isolationist appearance for the rest of Atlantian Oceania until we perfect the techronophage.

Commander Puente has requested permission to deploy two operatives as part of a K.I.L.L. subterfuge task force in Osarius. It is believed that their expertise will be needed to clean up after the inadequate handling of the mission by Special Agent Granath Three and the Annihilus Primary Task Force.

* * * * *

KYOBE, OSARIUS :: 731 days after the event

Doctor Ki're Ranatu'ro, Head of Nanotechnology at Kyoshiku University, meets with Doctor Jermaine Marko in a campus coffee shop.

"So you believe me now?"

"I believe you may be onto something Doctor Ranatu'ro. The files you sent over were certainly... illuminating."

"Tip of the iceberg, Doctor Marko."

"Please, call me Jermaine."

"Jermaine... I found some... organisms, in both the atmosphere and the blood of the athletes we tested. And I want you to work with me on this."

"Wait... work with you? Organisms? What are you talking about, Doctor Ranatu'ro?"

"Call me Ki're. But yes, I want your assistance."

"So what about these organisms?"

"They're nanomachines, but they behave like bacteria. Most notably I found some kind of transmission receiver system within the machines."

"This is starting to go a little outside my area of expertise, Ki're. But based on what you're saying... could these machines be remotely programmed."

"That is exactly what I'm saying. I've been reverse engineering the organisms I found, but I can't figure out the specific effects it stimulates in the human body. Physiology is not exactly my field of expertise."

"Have you managed to isolate the transmission frequency at least?"

"Not yet. It's heavily encrypted."

"Should we really be talking about this in public?"

"Good point. We can continue this discussion at the lab."

[Polar Islandstates]

We did it! I admit, I had my doubts at how we'd cope with a stronger, attacking side, but we've done it! Morten Rasmussen's side produced a wonderful display of counter-attacking football, and we simply outwitted the opposition on the field at Multitudinous Arena.

Setting his side up very much with defensive duties in mind, Rasmussen made three changes from the supposed agreed starting eleven, with the intelligence and ball-spreading skills of Jean-Eric Villeneuve preferred to the more direct running of Niko Lepka in the midfield, and Felix Saarinen replacing Diedrich Kvitchenko, who had been carrying a slight knock from the previous day's training. More eye-raising was the replacement of David Wien for Torre Urfstadt at centre-back. For such an important game, Wien was something of an unexpected preference over the infinitely more experienced figure of Urfstadt, and it was a big ask for the young by comparison to step up to the plate in such a high-stakes environment.

Looking at the opposition team sheet, we recognised nobody, of course. The only two names that counted a jot were those that would be sitting on the bench, organising things. Juan Tzimisces, and Simeone Di Bradini. Whatever rag tag bunch of halfwits The Holy Empire can cobble together, these two tactical geniuses have shown themselves time and time again to be capable of whipping them into a fiercely attacking shape. This time, far from the team of sprites and fairies that once knocked out the Terns, it was folk musicians. They sang their national anthem with gusto, I admit, though I don't recall it being about beets the last time we played.

Well aware that The Holy Empire would be relentlessly aggressive in their search for goals, Rasmussen set up the side to defend well and hit them on the counter-attack. It wasn't long, however, until his selection of Wien over Urfstadt was being called into question. Defending a set piece, Wien mis-cued his clearance, knocking it tamely into the path of Vassily!, who couldn't miss. One-nil to The Holy Empire after only seven minutes, and our worst fears were coming true.

But, Rasmussen didn't panic, he never panics, and he instructed the players to stick to the game plan. With a disciplined and resolve, our defence allowed the opposition to come at them time and time again, with Juul and Kungas-Vaga both sitting far deeper than their usual attacking positions. Two fine saves from Korzhanenko denied the front two of Ion! and Sava! from extending The Holy Empire's lead before half an hour had passed, but Rasmussen had confidence in the 3-5-2 formation of the opposition allowing the Terns a way back into the match, and he was vindicated in that. Not for the first or last time in the match, the Frosty midfield swarmed forwards with the aim of supporting their attackers, and allowing the Terns space to strike back. A lightning run from Illich-Svitych, picking up the ball from a hefty Juul clearance, was enough to force a save from Milan! in the Frosty goal, and from the corner came the equaliser; David Wien rising highest to atone for his previous mistake and nod home Alexsandr van Sorensen's wicked delivery. The Terns took the lead thanks to another lightning break, with Cornelius arriving late in the box to slam home his second of the tournament from Villeneuve's lay-off, and so the Terns went in for their half-time oranges considerably happier than The Holy Empire would have done to their half time beets.

Frosty football is relentlessly attacking, and though the Terns were well prepared for this, there was a somewhat sense of inevitability about the opposition's second goal when it came. Holding out for the fifteen minutes after half-time, the Terns were eventually beaten by a slick passing movement straight out of Di Bradini's little black book; Sava! getting in behind the wrong-footed Oyen-Spekke to chip the ball over the onrushing Korzhanenko.

The goal gave the musicians confidence, and they pressed and pressed further, looking for the winning goal. Rasmussen replaced an exhausted Oyen-Spekke with Rovanpera, and Juul made way for the fresh legs of Ituraitz defender Petersen as the Terns focused for the next fifteen minutes on simply not conceding a third goal. With Villeneuve's influence on the game growing by the minute, Rasmussen made the bold decision to replace van Sorensen with Kirvesniemi, favouring the latter's ability to run and play end-to-end over the ever-more static nature of van Sorensen's playmaking. With Villeneuve on the pitch, we already had a ball-spreader, and we didn't need two. All the same, replacing van Sorensen is like The Holy Empire suddenly deciding they didn't want to engage Juan Tzimisces anymore - almost unheard of, and many Twitchers in the stands voiced their displeasure at this substitution. I should know, I was one of them.

We should have known better than to question Rasmussen though, and his tactical change worked wonders, with the Terns looking far more solid at the back. With increasingly desperate attacks coming from the opposition, the Terns were sitting deeper and deeper. Soon, Vadim Illich-Svitych and Felix Saarinen were both seen sitting on the edge of our own box, defending set pieces with bravery and gusto. David Wien even threw himself at the feet of Ion! whilst already off balance to block a shot with his face.

And then with ten minutes to go, we hit them with a real knockout blow. Keeping the ball just outside the box, Yaropolk! and Vlad! were searching to find a crossing opportunity, when a fine piece of game-reading from Kungas-Vaga lead to him intercepting the ball. He launched forwards down the left wing and started a counter attack. He dodged a challenge from Pyotr! and just kept on going. Saarinen, Illich-Svitych, and Cornelius also pushed forwards in the counter-attack, and as Kungas-Vaga advanced towards the goal we were four-on-three. Looking up, he curled a magnificent ball over the heads of Illich-Svitych and Fyodr-Pyotr!, the ball bouncing just short of the six-yard-box at the far post, where Saarinen was rushing in to slide the ball home. Three-two, and the Twitchers dared to dream.

With The Holy Empire getting ever more desperate in their search, not for a winner this time but for an equaliser, we were able to turn defeat into resounding defeat on the ninetieth minute. With yellow and red shirts pouring forwards to attack a corner from the left, Eyvindur Sudesval, who had played magnificently all match, rose highest to head the ball out cleanly to Kirvesniemi, who ran. He ran, and ran, and ran, until he was clear of the last defender and rounding the D on the edge of the box. Stretching as his momentum carried his body over, he just got enough on the ball for his toes to send the ball arcing over the keeper and cannoning off the crossbar, falling neatly to the advancing Saarinen, who couldn't miss with his shot on the stride. Four-two, and The Holy Empire were broken. Not that you could tell from the rousing folk party they sprung in the centre circle after the defeat. Our players were presented with ceremonial beets, and they trooped off to the changing rooms, elated.

Three counter-attacking lightning strikes, four if you counted the corner that came from Illich-Svitych's run, and the Terns were in the quarter-finals yet again. With this performance, the Terns sent a warning message to the rest of the multiverse. Not only could they win in the face of heavy attacking pressure for most of the match, not only could they win without holding the bulk of the possession, not only could they score four goals despite a more defensive outlook on the game, but they could score without Alexsandr van Sorensen's help, as well.

Our reward for beating The Holy Empire? Darmen.

They may be the holders of the Copa Rushmori, but Darmen have still been something of a surprise package this tournament. Ranked a mere thirty-seventh in the world, I don't think anybody was expecting them to beat The Archregimancy except maybe themselves, and yet here they are. Like Eura and like ourselves before that, they are continuing the strong Rushmori tradition of going much farther in your first finals appearance than most would have predicted, and now it is up to us to make sure that they don't progress any further.

Their rank may be considered something of a false negative when you consider the kind of players they have; Tor Tong Lee is their Alexsadr van Sorensen. Caharismatic, enigmatic, inspirational, he will be key to everything good that comes from the team in green in the quarter final on South Lawn, and Sudesval is going to have to make sure we shut him down. He will be looking to supply the strong Faulkner in front of him, and we may see the return of Urfstadt to the starting line-up despite Wien's strong performance against The Holy Empire, just to match Faulkner's experience and wiles. It is a cruel irony of football however that the more experienced you are, the less able your body is to serve your wishes, and so I'd be surprised to see Urfstadt last the whole ninety if Faulkner and Gregio give him and Oyen-Spekke a tough time.

In playing another 3-5-2 formation dead set on scoring goals, and then scoring more goals, one has to wonder whether Rasmussen will set our side out in exactly the same fashion. Kvitchenko, if fit, might not even get his starting place back after Saarinen's dazzling display of fitness late on in the game saw him pick up two goals for his troubles, and van Sorensen has now shown himself able to be substituted off if circumstances require it. With Konovalov, Kirvesniemi, Villeneuve, and Einmark on the bench I'm confident that we have cover for any tactical situation, though certainly the fact that Darmen play a nearly identical system to The Holy Empire can only serve us well in terms of continuity of tactics.

Where does this leave Rasmussen then? Should we lose, we would be going out disappointed, I think. Despite being able to hold our heads high thanks to the way we qualified and the way we out-manoeuvred The Holy Empire, Darmen are a side that we need to be beating when the chips are down, and a defeat would be devastating. Should we win, well, we'd be hailing Rasmussen as a hero for getting us to our first World Cup semi-final since World Cup Fifty-Six. Andossa Se Mitrin Vega or The Sylvanaes Queendom would await us in the semi-final, and looking at the other half of the draw, a Polar Islandstates - Audioslavia final remains a possibility. How much would fans on both sides want that, I wonder? After all, The Babbage Islands are out, Valanora are out, The Holy Empire are out, Vilita, Starblaydia, Bears Armed, The Archregimancy, all out. Going by rank and by rank alone, the logical final would actually be Audioslavia against ourselves. I know we've only just gotten over our duck of never beating higher ranked opposition in knockout stages, but I still don't know how I feel about this. Darmen are one more hurdle on this path to the ultimate aim of winning a World Cup final, but they're a hurdle we are certainly capable of over-coming if we play well. And, in fact, so is everyone else. We proved that much against The Holy Empire

So, come on, Terns; you may never have another chance like this.

Pre Tenebras ad Lucem.

Eff out.

xx

[Andossa Se Mitrin Vega]

South Lawn in Spit might just have become one of the most intimidating venues to play in anywhere around the NS-verse. The Sundry Folk have come to be nearly undefeatable when playing on that pitch. Nearly. For the Sea Dragons marched in, played their game, and came a way with a narrow 1-0 victory over the World Cup 64 co-hosts.

And now it is the South Lawn that will play host to the Quarterfinal matches in Wight where upstart Darmen will see their All-Greens face off against Rushmori powerhouse Terns from Polar Islandstates as well as our own Atlantian Oceania fixture against those damnable Elves from the Sylvanaes Queendom. This pair of matches will insure that the two most powerful sporting regions in the NS-verse have at least one side with a chance to make the finals. Note - All eight remaining sides are from AO and Rushmore. Has that ever happened before? But in the NMS half of the bracket the regions face off today with Osarius playing Valladares in an offensive showdown and current Champions Audislavia facing the most defensive side in football in the form of Taeshan.

The first match at South Lawn today looks on paper to be a one-sided affair as the Terns are ranked 5th in the world and easily considered superior to 37th ranked Darmen. Now throw the paper out the window. The Terns always seem to end up still alive at this point only to find new ways not to win the Cup. And while Darmen may not be seen by many as a legitimate threat, let me remind everyone that their 37th rank is exactly the same as our own opponents, the Mystical Unicorns, sported when they wont the Cup back in WC53. Plus we have seen the All-Greens first hand as they held us to a draw on the final day of the group stage. That should give the Terns something to think about.

As for the Sea Dragons, we have our own problems to deal with. A huge set of pink and purple clad problems. Somehow our tight grip on defensive footy seems to fall apart when we face these Elf women. And what we like to call a stingy defense becomes suddenly porous while our opportunistic attack seems for haphazard and dull. Perhaps It is the quicker shifting pace the Mystical Unicorns can employ that throws us off. Perhaps our lack of numbers dedicate to the midfield comes back to bite us. Perhaps they use magic to keep us off balance. Whatever the reason, we have to figure this out now if we wish to have a shot at this one.

Xataru Enth'umii and Yseelle Tai'ran are the keys to our success today as they work against one of the best midfields in the World. Wend Rayghaest, Sison Nyifith, Laidiriel Roloeme, and Silwen Isilidilinmae have made far better sides than ours look bad, so our two stars will have to shine bright in this match.

[Darmen]

They say that when old foes face each other on the battlefield, innovation is key. Some say you can't teach an old dog a new trick. Some say that routine is bad, it gets you stuck in a rut. But enough about what others say. It doesn't matter. What truly matters is what you do.

Actions speak louder than words, it's true. But how will the All Greens act in their match against the Terns. The slight increase in emphasis on defense under new Manager William St. John de la Ware has worked, it's why we're this far. But the Terns are at a different level. They're ranked fifth in the multiverse, and they're a really tough bunch. But we defeated the number one team in the multiverse only last Saturday. It shouldn't be too hard to repeat that right?

Tor Tong Lee, since scoring three goals against The Babbage Islands, has fallen silent. Sure he's played well, a few assists as well, but not a single goal. Not even a single shot on goal. What's up?

"I can assure all the All Green fans that I'm trying my best to positively contribute to the team, whether that be on the defensive side of the ball or by scoring goals," commented Lee following Darmen's 3-1 victory over The Archregimancy.

As for Bryan Faulkner, he's been on fire, scoring Darmen's loan goal against West Angola, and once more in the final group stage match against Andossa Se Mitrin Vega. He also scored twice in the victory over The Archregimancy.

"I've been playing quite well," said Faulkner, "and I just hope that I, as well as the rest of the team, can keep it up against the Terns."

Gene Turko scored his first goal of this World Cup against the Monks, and has been very happy with his spot in the limelight. "Before de la Ware was manager, I really wasn't that big of a star, but all of that has changed, and I'm really happy about it. But with the increase in attention, I've had to increase the quality of my performances. I believe I've succeeded in that, and look forward to continue playing well."

The All Greens and Terns have faced each other three times, with the All Greens winning once, and the Terns twice. Now, for the fourth time, the two teams will meet again, and the victor will see themselves advance to the semifinals, and be guaranteed at least one more match following that. Will it be the not so little men in Green, or seabirds? Can't wait to find out? Neither can we.

[Polar Islandstates]

An island licked its wounds.

Sapper with the Federal Engineers, Johan Simic took a break from the hasty construction work that was going on own the side of the Natalis Straits. He grabbed a bottle of mineral water, ducked underneath the police tape, and strode out confidently onto the cracked tarmac surface of what was left of the bridge. He surveyed his handiwork. The explosives rigging had been his job, and he'd done a good one on it. At the signal of the officer-in-charge, the charges had blown, neatly dividing the truss at its critical points, and nearly two hundred metres of box steel truss had plummeted a one hundred metres down to the choppy, angry waters of the Straits below. He walked out onto the stump, stepping over a length of twisted metalwork. On the other side, he could just about make out the fifty metre stump that had been left behind.

A box steel truss on a steel supporting structure, the bridge had been a beautiful imitation of the old masonry bridges that crossed the many gorges and sudden valleys that dotted the Külmsaar countryside. Like all new Polarian bridges, it had been built with a certain amount of forward planning involved, and thus had weak points inserted into its calculations. It was those weak points that Simic had used to ruin it. He risked a peak down over the edge into the waters below. There was no sign of the four lane bridge that had plummeted into the sea. No surprise there.

A cursory glance up and down the Straits told him what he already knew - there would be no attempts to cross them at any other point from the Sargossans. The cliffs at Natalis may have been over a hundred metres straight up, but they were also the only part of the channel bordered and supported by solid granite. Immediately to the south, and stretching up along north, the heights of the channel decreased rapidly, but was also based on easily flooded siltbeds that would be near impossible to quickly build a bridge capable of transporting military hardware across. Let alone the fact that the Straits were at their narrowest here, at their highest point. There was a reason the Polarians, in all those years, had never attempted to build a bridge on the sites of the old ferry routes.

Sipping from the water, he winced as he raised his arm. He'd badly bruised a rib in the skirmish two days ago. The medical tent had dismissed it as bruising, anyway, but Simic had broken his ribs out skiing once in his youth, and he was beginning to feel some of those familiar stabbing pains. A sea fog was rolling in from the north, a proper haar of a thing. Visibility was down to about five hundred metres already, and he had no doubts it would be getting worse before it got better. Even so, he could see the activity down on the edges of the water up to the north, where Polarian soldiers were frantically establishing pillboxes and laying razorwire along the coast. Just because the Sargossans wouldn't be trying to bridge it didn't mean they wouldn't be trying to cross it. Not that that would have been wise, either. The Straits were a bottleneck for currents and tides, a site where the sea was squeezed and forced through a gap the size of the eye on a needle in aquatic terms. They were angry waters, rarely still, and had claimed more lives over the years than the Sargossans could have possibly hoped to have taken in their conquest.

He looked up, and saw a Sargossan soldier on the other side of the Straits, standing on the stump of what had once been the Natalis end of the bridge. Haar or no haar, Simic would have that shade of khaki uniform forever imprinted on his memories now, and he wondered if the soldier he could see was there the other day, firing bullets that Simic's comrades had dodged, and dodging those that Simic's comrades had fired back in return.

He wondered what kind of state the Sargossans were leaving in the west. He knew that unrest remained in the east. As civil unrest continued, half of the people were trying to clear up and regain some sense of normality in the face of ever increasing waves of Külmsaari citizens displaced by the soldiers in the west, just as the other half were packing their bags and trying to run towards the Sargossan military with open arms. It was complicated. There was broken buildings on the one side, broken promises on the other, and broken societies and families just about everywhere you looked. Külmsaar was in a mess.

Looking at the soldier on the other side also surveying the damage, Simic wondered how many of his fellow countrymen he'd seen dead and buried in the last couple of days. More than the eighty dead on the Polarian side? Or less? And how many of Simic's countrymen had the Sargossans been left behind as corpses? The soldier looked across through the rapidly descending haar, trying to gauge the distance that the bridge had fallen. Simic raised his arm and waved by way of bragging at the damage and destruction he still took a sort of perverse pleasure in causing. No response. He idly wondered if anyone would be re-building this bridge any time soon, and then turned back to the construction efforts. With the haar down, nobody would have to look at the events on the other side. They could even pretend for a short while that the other side wasn't even there. Kűlmsaar? What was that? This is Külmsaar, thank you very much. No blood spilt here, oh no. Nothing of the sort. Just for a moment, they could focus on nothing but the task in hand. Just for a moment, they could pretend none of this had ever happened. Just for a moment.

An island licked its wounds.

---

Back in Franz Josef City, a nervous President Iversen-Eklund was waiting frantically for a communication to come back from Soluca.

The past weeks had been trying on her, her cabinet, her opinion polls, and most importantly, Külmsaar. The Sargossans had landed after catching everybody by surprise with the blockade in the first place, and they had advanced quickly. Only some very daring and risky manoeuvres by the Polarian Navy had allowed the soldiers on the islands to fight back, and even then, they had been forced to sacrifice fully half of the islands to he hands of the so-called 'peacekeepers'. Things were looking bad for the islands, and for her. If she allowed the archipelago to be invade and fall into Sargossan hands, well, she'd be out of power before you could say 'Franz Josef City'.

And then she'd been handed a lifeline.

The people, the citizens, had come to her rescue. A cross party petition had been handed in to the acting Governor's representative in Agheim. They wanted an election. A referendum to decide once and for all whose sovereignty could lay claim to the islands. A referendum to allow the islanders to claim self-determination if they wanted to. It was a lifeline, and it was a gift from Thor himself. Immediately, Iversen-Eklund had had her aides write up a persuasive letter addressed to the powers-that-be in Soluca, hinting that such an election might not be such a bad idea.

Now, she was nervously awaiting their response.

The first proposed question was simple; "Do you want Külmsaar to remain a part of the Federation of Polar Islandstates?" Yes or no. Simple.

The second question was equally simple; "Do you want Külmsaar to enter the dominion and rule of Sargossa?" Yes or no. Simple.

Then, if the answer to both the above questions was 'no', a question on self-determination in the name of fairness and the human right to just that; "Do you want Külmsaar to break from the Union of Külmsaar and Terra Scotia to become its own self-determining nation?" Yes or no. Simple.

Simple, simple, simple.

Simple, and easy to manipulate in a Polarian direction. Iversen-Eklund had been very clear about not including any position for the islands to be split east or west, no way. And that was how they would win the vote. There were easily more Polarian-leaning Külmsaaris in the east than there were Sargossans in the west.

There was a knock at the door of her office. The aide entered without waiting for a response, knowing it was the message the President had been waiting for. Jumping up and grabbing the letter off the tray before the aid could open his mouth to say 'a letter from Soluca, Madame President', she scanned it quickly, looking for the answer she was looking for.

"Ha!" she shouted, triumphantly as relief washed over her, "They went for the election! This is perfect! How could they be so short sighted? With a referendum result on our side, international pressure will force them to leave the islands! Ha! Let's start preparations right away. We'll win the vote, easily! I can't believe they've been so stupid!"

Which is, of course, pretty much exactly what they'd said in Soluca when they'd received her original letter...

[Valladares]

The National Kickoff
The Online Home of Valladar Football!

QUARTERFINALS, HERE WE ARE?

Valladares reach the quarterfinals after finding their style

By: Alan Rosero

Quarterfinals, so here we are after a qualifying race full of stumbles and setbacks in which despite we incredibly struggled against weak teams like Altiplane, 19th Century Beards, Islo Aiz ens Islo Dorne, and East Shippensburg, eventually Les Gones were able to book their tickets to the finals here in New Montreal States with two wins against a talented yet inexperienced Thatius side.

We made it to the WC, but how did we get this far?

Interesting question, eh? And I know most of you are asking that because of the subpar performances displayed by the team in the qualifiers, especially in its first half with the Valladars dropping so many points to the aforementioned teams (and at home!). Maybe the answer can be found in the change of attitude displayed by some of the representative players of the squad after the useless 4-2 win over Darmen in the final match of the qualifiers, and the playoffs against Thatius. Apparently they finally got the message by the coach Campbell, and apparently Campbell also found a perfect style for the team. He finally understood that experimenting and was not the way to go. He finally understood that offense has always been a part of a Valladar team, with a speedy and very dangerous offensive line including men like Yoan Gignac, Miguel Flórez, and Jean-Pierre de Roux (just to list the usual names in the starting lineup), who always represent a danger for every defense in every event. And this is how Campbell stopped with his stupid experiments who were taking us nowhere, and with those 3 players in the starting lineup during the whole group stage, we could make it past a tough group including Starblaydia, Gyatso-kai, and Blouman Empire (who knocked out Qazox in the playoffs IIRC...by the way, thank you for doing such a huge favour to mankind!), and were also able to beat the hosts New Montreal States in an electrifying match which, to be honest, could have been won by either side.

So here we are, finding ourselves at the doors of a decisive quarterfinals clash against Osarius, a perfect example of "offensive team" just like us, and are also looking to write their name with golden ink in the books of WC history like us. Historically, these games between Valladares and Osarius have been highly contested and full of goals for either side, so be ready for another electrifying match in which loads of goals are guaranteed.

Drop of Poison: With only 3 rounds remaining to know which team will be lifting the World Cup trophy, and 8 teams still in contention, we can see this is going to be an Atlantian Oceania-Rushmore affair, with current world champions Audioslavia, ASMV, the Sylvanaes Queendom, and Osarius lining up for AO, meanwhile, the Rushmori quota comprises Polar Islandstates, Taeshan, the ones to the west of the Westlands, and us. Who wants an all-Rushmori final? Maybe an all-AO one? or the interregional final everyone has been dreaming of? Place your bets.

[Wight]

New Montreal States quarter-final results

[New Montreal States]

And the cutoff for Wight-region quarterfinals, as well.

[Andossa Se Mitrin Vega]

South Lawn, Spit, Wight. Who would have guessed that such a venue could have become a near second home for the Sea Dragons. But it really does feel like a second home considering the squad’s success on that pitch. Never mind that all the true amenities of home lay only a short helicopter ride from Spit at the Sa Tu’urk facility.

And now it is time to test that theory to its fullest as the Sea Dragons prepare to face the All-Greens in the semis of this World Cup. Yes this is the very same Darmen squad that caused us not to finish the group stage with a perfect record by somehow managing to earn a draw. That draw ended a nine match winning streak and the 2 goals allowed were the most given up by the Sea Dragons in 18 matches. It is surely the time for some revenge.

When looking over the draw for the World Cup proper, one would have been hard-pressed to see any manner in which Darmen could still be alive at this point of the competition. And yet the All-Greens remain a factor and have made some very high profile victories for themselves in the process. The Babbage Islands- defeated. The Archregimancy - defeated. Polar Island states - defeated. Hopefully we will not become the next victim on their list.

And this is a critical match as far as Sea Dragon history goes as well. Twice before we have managed to reach this point only to fall and wind up finishing third. We truly do not want that to happen again. So we must prove yet again that we are the superior squad and take care of business.

On the other end of Atlantian Oceania the semi final match pits defending Champ Audioslavia against Osarius in a battle of northeastern AO. (Funny that ASMV is playing in northeastern AO.) Conventional wisdom says to bet on Audislavia not only to win this one but to take home a second consecutive Championship. But don’t count out the Firebirds just yet. They, like Darmen, are a fiery (no pun intended) side that can be very dangerous.

[Audioslavia]

Part of David Radic's remit as assistant manager of the Audioslavia national football team was to research the opposition. The first port of call for that was to review previous games, no matter how old.

Audioslavia had first played against Osarius back in 2148, twenty-two years ago, on matchday three of AOCAF 34, Audioslavia's first foray into international football since the nation's re-inception. The score had been 1-1, with di Carradi's opener being cancelled out eventually by a last-minute strike by a player named 'Pegg'. That had brought back memories. David had listened to the game on the radio while in his car, and remembered excitedly bashing the steering wheel when Audioslavia finally got their equaliser. Osarius had been the better team, by a long chalk, but were undone by a goalkeeping error of fatal proportions. What this 'Pegg' guy's first name was, David couldn't be sure, but he never played for the national team again, making a handful of appearances as an un-used sub and just that one ten-minute run-out against Osarius.

There were some familiar names in that Audioslavia line-up. Calaesha Jeroen and Mantzio Janssens were decent players, born in Turori and Astograth respectively, and in defence was one Andre-Luis Partico, a mainstay of the back line who would go on to be his boss's predecessor as manager of the national side, before going on to coach Ao regionmates Pacitalia. Weverton Sporadic was the only player to still be in and around the national team set-up. He was seventeen back then, just a wee whipper-snapper but already the driving force behind the midfield. Weverton was thirty-nine now and was almost certainly making his final appearances in the claret and green of Audioslavia, mainly from the bench if at all. His father was still going as a manager, having left Audioslavia before cycle 62 and going on to manage the Licentiapacisterran and Euran national football teams, winning a little silverware along the way.

The most recent game with Osarius was, of course, the final game of the group stage to this tournament, just two weeks ago. A dead-rubber of a match that both sides were happy to draw.

Osarius were a solid team, capable at the back if less defensively-minded than the Taeshanis. Audioslavia had, as they had done against Bears Armed, stuck to the blueprint they'd made four years previously and attained another repeat win over former victims, winning out 1-0 in normal time as opposed to the extra-time victory four years ago. James COurier had, as he had before, managed to win the midfield battle, grabbing an assist for a square ball played to Van Wildernis to rifle home on twenty-four minutes.

David's concentration was ruined by the sound of his phone going off.
"David, come down, you've got to see this".

The voice on the phone was that of Israel Klimt, manager of the Audioslavian national team. Klimt had been threatening to bring him and a few of the players to the ancient Paladin Dome stadium in New Montreal States, an excursion that would serve as a history lesson for the Audioslavians. The stadium was situated on top of an artificial mountain, one created by Audioslavians over two-hundred years ago. The stadium had been in use for centuries, for various purposes, had been built and rebuilt on top of itself - as had countless training complexes and various other foootball-related 'stuff', meaning that when one arrived to the top of the mountain, one was probably standing at the very point where something historical happened.

As David would find out, the 'historical' aspect of the mountain section that his boss, Israel, was standing in, was only tangientally related to football.

"The graveyard of Belmores!' called Israel, happily. "I'd heard of this place. Back around the time of World Cup 10, everyone named Alan Belmore was rounded up and shot. They were buried here."
"Why were they shot?" asked David, with a look of horror
"I've heard the reasons were good enough. They were annoying"
"THey were killed just for being annoying"
"They must have been very, very annoying. Look at this one. "Alan Belmore #85435. Dead. Thank the Gods'. They all have the same inscription. I wonder which was is, or was, the famous footballer"
"Nice" said David, in a way that implied that nothing about the situation was particularly nice. "Anyway, are you nearly finished, because I've been doiing some research on this Osarius team and, well, I think I've come up with a couple of ideas...

[Audioslavia]

Wise Osarius?
Audioslavia's semi-final opponents have out-maneuvered the Bulls in recent games. Can Klimt and co finally overcome the men in red, black and gold?

At the start of the tournament, this reporter printed an article wherein she intimated that Osarius would be going home from the World Cup rather early, most likely propping up group C below the more fashionable Vilitans and exciting Apoxians, and ourselves of course.

Whether the Osarius team or staff read the article or not, they have set about utterly disabusing the notion that they are here to make up the numbers. The side won the group convincingly and, in the early knockout stages, usurped title-favourites Valanora and the dangerous Valladarans on their way to this, their first ever appearance in the semi-finals of the World Cup. Bookies and pundits put the Audioslavians as favourites for the tie, but only just, and some say the smart money is on the Firebirds to match the Audioslavians all the way up to extra-time and penalties.

For Audioslavia, this part of the tournament is traditionally where we excel. In major tournaments (the Baptism of Fire, Cup of Harmony, AOCAF Cup and World Cup), Audioslavia have played in twelve semi-finals and won eleven, the only defeat coming to Qazox in the semis of cycle 60's Cup of Harmony. It is a spectacular record and Israel Klimt has no intentions of seeing it fall to 11-2.

This time four years ago, we were slightly bemused to find ourselves in the deep end of the World Cup. We allowed ourselves to enjoy the moment, knowing that the bubble could, and probably would, burst at any given moment.That it didn't, and that Audioslavia won, finally, the World Cup, shocked us. We've spent the last four years coming round to the idea that is ourselves who are the team to beat, the World Champions, the face of the sport. That Klimt has managed to get his team to retain the championship of Atlantian Oceania, despite the pressure, was a wonderful feat and now, in the latter stages of the world's flagship tournament for the second time in two cycles - the sixth in our history - the onus is on him and the team to come good.

We are no longer the plucky underdogs, the battered old boxer making yet another comeback for a big old payday. We are the favourites, the 'big bad', the establishment. We owe it to ourselves to act like bullies against an Osarius side who may well be suffering from a little altitude sickness at this level. The same would apply to a possible final matchup against Darmen, although most neutrals would hoping for an Audioslavia - Andossa se Mitrin Vega barnstormer of a final.

IBSD, G'NB

[Osarius]

KYOBE, OSARIUS :: 733 days after the event

"Jermaine... are you sure we should be doing this? Shouldn't we call in the authorities? They're trained for this kind of thing."

"We don't have time for that. We need to get this information and crack this code. We need to know who's behind this."

"That's precisely my point. Do we? There are government agencies for this kind of thing."

"Yeah, and in the past two years, we've uncovered more than their entire operation."

Doctor Ranatu'ro went silent. It was true. His concerns would stir him to speech again, though. "But that's a financial issue, surely?"

"Oh you're not going to play the 'educational facilities receive the bulk of government funding yadda yadda yadda' card, are you?"

"Well it is the truth, Jermaine."

"Right, and the government could easily afford to trim the education budget if they were serious about this kind of thing. The truth is, there is practically no importance attached to national security, and that's why we're in this situation in the first place."

"And you, an untrained educator, are going to fix this problem?"

"Probably not, but I have to try."

"Why?"

"Because I love this godforsaken country."

An awkward silence followed. Jermaine grimaced as he took a hard right onto the dirtroad, following the directions on the screen of the makeshift tracking device the two had put together. "So... how bout them Steel Wolves?"

Ki're snorted laughter. "I appreciate the attempt." He laughed. "But I'm not much of a gridiron fan."

"GraviBall?"

"Oddly, no."

"OCF?"

"Sometimes."

"You're not one of those people who doesn't like any sports, are you?" Jermaine asked him, almost accusingly.

"Oh no, I'm a football fan."

"Wow. Never saw that coming."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Islanders tend not to be big fans of football. Too soft, I'm told."

"Ah, but it's the thinking man's sport."

"I'll take your word for it, Doc."

"I'm almost afraid of what we'll find when we crack this whole..." He paused, searching for the correct word. "...thing." He didn't find it.

"Impressive technical vocab, Ki're."

"Considering our short acquaintance, I often forget you are fluent in sarcasm, Jermaine."

"And proud of it!" Jermaine grinned broadly. "Anyway, why afraid? Worst case scenario, we've uncovered some biotech weaponry, and we'll be the reason Osarius doesn't fall."

"No, I was thinking about the sport angle."

"Oh, right. The effects on athletes. I've done some studies."

"I know. I read them all."

"I'm flattered."

"Don't be, I found some of it a little derivative, if I'm honest."

SCRRRRRUNNNNCCH!

Jermaine slammed the brakes on and ground the car to a halt on the gravelly trail.

"Now that was just rude."

"I did not mean it to be. I just feel that your case studies were from too narrow a selection of disciplines, and too similar to Doctor Carthy's work on performance enhancers a few years ago."

"Well I... Yeah I ... it is similar though."

"No, we both know there's something different about this... thing." There it was again, that undefined -- if it even could be -- technology they had uncovered.

"Yeah... I know."

"I think it could be part of the reason the national team are doing so well in the World Cup this time out."

"They are? Can't say I've noticed."

"Well, there's something that's been bothering me about the whole thing. My early theory was that it was some Kryosi technology to enhance their clones in some way, or something along those lines."

"Yeah... where are you going with this, Doc?"

"What if it is Kryosi, but it wasn't an accident? What if they deliberately manufactured this plague, this disease, with far-reaching aims?"

"I don't see how making us effectively immortal for two years could possibly be an aim of the Kryosi. They hate us."

"Right, so that's why it wouldn't make sense for them to risk letting this kind of technology fall into our hands."

"You're not making any sense, Doc."

"Something's off here. It just doesn't add up."

"Alright, well we need to get going, we need to get to this signal source before it gets too late. I don't fancy driving on these 'roads' at night."

"Leave it to the locals, then. Switch."

Ki're got out of the car and began walking around to the driver side door, before suddenly crumpling near the car bonnet.

"What the f-" Jermaine quickly threw the door open and was in the process of making his way to Ki're when he heard a voice through a megaphone.

"STEP AWAY FROM THE VEHICLE AND GET ON THE GROUND!"

He dared not defy the voice, and began to comply. Within seconds, two figures were upon him, forcefully pinning him to the ground.

"Sir, we have him secured!" One voice shouted over what Jermaine now recognised as the sound of whirring helicopter blades.

"The target is also down, sir!" Another voice, toward the front of the car. They had Ki're.

"What the hell is going on?!" Jermaine yelled over the din, but nobody replied. As he was hauled to his feet, arms bound behind his back, he yelled again. "What's going on here?!" Still nothing.

As they dragged him around the car, toward a large, unmarked black van -- the type you always saw people bundled into in movies, he noted -- he managed to glimpse one of his captors. He looked remarkably familiar, but he just couldn't place the face to a name. The sun was low, but still bright enough to make Jermaine squint as he tried to take in his surroundings. Then a name came to mind. The name to go with the face.

'I must be mistaken... that's not possible.' He told himself. But he must have spoken the words aloud.

"Sir, I think he made us." The first voice from earlier.

"Shit. Silence him." A third voice. Oddly familiar. But he didn't have much time to process the memory, a powerful blow to the back of his head rendered him unconscious.




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


UNKNOWN LOCATION ON KYOSHIKU ISLAND, OSARIUS :: 733 days after the event

"Do you know who this one is?"

"Sir?"

"It's not a fucking trick question! Do you know him?!"

"No sir."

"He's former R.D."

"But how?"

"No idea... but this complicates things. A lot."

Jermaine Marko blinked hard. His head felt as though it was going to split open. There was a bright light in the room, directly in front of him, blinding in it's intensity.

'What the hell is this?' He tried desperately to process his surroundings. In his effort, he let out a low groan.

"Shit, he's conscious again."

"Glitch."

"Sir?"

"Commence the extraction. We need to know what he knows."

"We're not going to eliminate him? He's a threat!"

"I said, commence the extraction. We don't eliminate non-threats. That's not how we operate."

"...Yes sir."

"I'm going to contact Alpha. They'll want to know we have a former R.D. Agent here. They'll also want to know how he escaped."

"Escaped, sir?"

"Kryosis."

"Wait... who is this guy?"

"An unfortunate man. Chances are, he's going to die soon. For the second time."

[Darmen]

It was happening again. And the Hotel's Manager wasn't happy at all. His face was bright red, and it reminded William St. John de la Ware of a tomato.

"They're... they're... they're trashing the hotel!" yelled the Manager.

"And the IG-2 will be around in a short time to fix everything up and present you with a nice, large check. They can even do a photo-op if you'd like that?"

"No, no, no, no, no! Out, out! You're ruining my hotel. And the carpet on the main-stair way! Four hundred years old, with gold woven in. They've ripped it to shreds!"

"No they haven't," said de la Ware, pointing to the two men standing in the corner, a rolled up carpet behind them. "The IG-2 replaced the carpet with a look-a-like. In fact they replaced everything of value with fake copies. There's no need to worry."

"But, but, but... the guests, what about the guests?"

"Each guest has been kindly instructed to stay inside their rooms, and they've also been given noise canceling ear muffs."

"And what about when guests need to leave their rooms?" asked the hotel Manager.

"We've requested that they phone down to the front desk, and inform one of the agents of their intentions of leaving their room. They'll then be escorted by an agent," said de la Ware. He was growing tired of answering the Manager's questions. He waved to an IG-2 agent sitting behind the desk, who responded quickly by leading the Manager away, dangling a new gold watch in front of him.

de la Ware began to climb the stairs to return to his room, but was stopped half way up by a man heading in the opposite direction.

"I'd get off the stairs if I were you Will," said the man.

de la Ware obliged. "They coming Colonel?"

"Ja. All fifty of 'em," replied Colonel Donald O'Donahaue, head of the IG-2 unit placed on this "mission."

When the two men reached the bottom of the stairs, they flattened themselves against the wall. The sound of footsteps grew louder and louder, until fifty young football players appeared at the top of the stairway. All of them begin t descend as fast as safety would allow them. Except for one, who didn't hold on to the railing, or go down each step cautiously. Continuing to run in full stride, he hit the stairs suddenly, and began to fall head over heels. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he rolled a few times, before springing to his feet.

de la Ware felt a rush of relief flood over him. He had winced as soon as he saw Sergio Autitore miss the first step. "You alright?" asked de la Ware.

Autitore ignored de la Ware's question. Instead he turned to the rest of his teammates, who had gathered around him at the bottom of the stairs. "Where'd the ball go?" he asked.

In all the chaos that had just occurred, everyone had lost sight of the ball. Except for one person. A little boy. His family had just walked into the hotel to check in, and the IG-2 agent who was supposed to have escorted them had been too enthralled in his magazine to notice the new arrivals. And the young boy was too enthralled by the ball to notice the fifty players looking for it. But when one of those players yelled, "THERE IT IS!" he had fled in terror, clinging to his mother's dress. The stampede of full grown men charging towards him and the ball had been too much to ignore.

The fifty players reached the ball almost at the same time, and a scrum that resembled an early game of "mob" football formed. The pack of footballers slowly began to move the ball back towards the stairs, but took a right turn and headed towards the pool instead. They had Water Polo on their mind. As they entered the hallway that led to the pool, one of the players was able to break free of the scrum with the ball. Sergio Autitore had been tripped up in the sudden increase in speed, and as he picked himself up, de la Ware took the opportunity to ask his star reserve forward how he felt.

"Autitore, you alright? Break anything going down those stairs?"

"No, sir," responded Autitore, as he took off to catch up with the rest of the team. He didn't make it very far though, as one of the room service ladies had appeared out of nowhere, pushing a cart full of dirty bed sheets. Both Autitore and the cart found themselves sprawled out on the floor. Autitore picked himself up, and headed off to his room. Walking this time.

"Today is a bad day for me," he said.

de la Ware nodded his head in agreement, before adding, "Better not be bad tonight, we need you."

"Yeah, sure," responded Autitore, just before he tripped going up the stairs. "I HATE MY LIFE!" he yelled, allowing one of the larger IG-2 agents to carry him to his room.

[Wight]

New Montreal States semi-final cut-off

[New Montreal States]

Belated Wight semi-final cutoff.

[New Montreal States]

Here's the third-place match!

[Audioslavia]

Not-so Wise Osarius
Bulls down Firebirds in Extra-Time Drama

Audioslavia are going to the World Cup final again after a hard-fought extra-time victory over Atlantian Oceanian region-mates Osarius.

No winner had been found in two ninety-minute encounters between the Bulls and the Firebirds, so it was little surprise when, just eight minutes after striker Karsten Eiger gave the favourites a twenty-third minute lead, Osarius struck back through a Gilberto Cuellar free-kick to send the two sides into the dressing rooms level at 1-1.

Audioslavia will claim to have been the better team in the second half, but the Osarians will point to the highlights reel to prove that they, and not the men in claret and green, should be playing Andossa se Mitrin Vega in the final next week. Brooklyn McGregor had probably the best chance of the half, firing across the face of goal from ten yards after running onto a poked pass from Sergio Estevez. Goalscorer Cuellar would also go close, firing a far-post finish over the bar, before a late Mario Donati header ricocheted off the top of the bar with Imaslavii well beaten in the Audioslavian goal. Despite their dominance in terms of possession, an errant Van Wildernis drive would be the side's only shot on target as the side struggled to create chances amidst the heavy-pressing Osarians.

It was the Osarians who looked the more confident of victory as the final whistle blew, but extra-time is where Audioslavia come into their own. Countless times throughout history, Audioslavia have failed to beat a semi-final opponent in normal time, only to thrash them during the added thirty-minutes and while Osarius continued to frustrate, the chances started to come for Audioslavia.

First Van Wildernis brought a reflex-save from Mason with a close-range shot, then substitute Nico Ferz would test the woodwork before, finally, on 115 minutes, Karsten Eiger popped up again to drive home the go-ahead goal.

For long periods the claret and green faithful had felt an ominous sense of forboding at the Osarian's ability to match Audioslavia all over the park. After Eiger's second, however, fans would tell one another that had almost been inevitable.

That said, the full-time whistle couldn't come soon enough for a fanbase that will need a good few days rest before final day on Saturday.

The A-Game
ASMV stand between Audioslavia and a second star on the badge

The paths of Audioslavia and Andossa se Mitrin Vega have rarely crossed in the centuries since either nation began playing international football - 240 years (A/SRPT) for Audioslavia, a century less for ASMV - yet there are a few parallels that are worth documenting.

The Vegaii's first foray into international football came in the qualifiers for World Cup 25, a tournament co-hosted by Audioslavia. Those Audioslavians over the age of two-hundred (of which there is probably only one, by my count) may remember the young, bright-eyed Vegaii team from that tournament, if only from the rolling the strange, exotic name around their tongue. Those with access to foreign television may even have seen this broadcast, believed to be the first Vegaii bulletin mentioning the World Cup:

Crowds of cheering fans gathered today as the Sea Dragons departed for the BoF. This marks the dawn of a new era for the nation as it expands its sports program to compete on the international level.
"Everywhere you look there is nothing but light blue and yellow. I LOVE IT!" cried a fan near our newsroom. There has never before been such a turnout. The nation has united to support this team
Shaun Conarky and Unami Banta-N'bai took time out of their busy schedule to sign some autographs earlier today at the Vegan School for Special Needs Children. Unami had this to say "We just glad we go to compete. All our fans very good to us. Is happiest day o me life. I have not words to say it"
Expectations are running high here for the BoF, followed by the chance to make some real noise in WC25. Good luck to our team.
This has been Adam Kane of the ASMVNN.

The young Sea Dragons were defeated finalists in the pre-tournament Baptism of Fire, losing out 2-1 to a Cuation team since consigned to the annals of history. More interesting, however, is the Sea Dragons' participation in the Jeremy Jaffacake Jamboree, a pre-qualifier invitational tournament that included the hosts (and eventual champions) Audioslavia and a range of the top sides of the day. ASMV, woefully inexperienced at this level, went 1-0-6 in that tournament, yet their solitary win would come against none other than The Archregimancy, a morale-boosting victory that would revigourate the side's confidence going into the World Cup 25 qualifiers. ASMV managed a respectable five wins in their group, and with that qualification for the Cup of Harmony. The hosts, Audioslavia, would reach the quarter-finals before bowing out to perennial thorns-in-the-arse Rejistania.

By the time of former-Audioslavia's World Cup 29 swansong, the Sea Dragons were already one of the big players in world football, qualifying for four finals on the bounce without troubling the deeper waters too much. After World Cup 30, however, ASMV would take a hiatus from international football, with their next finals appearance coming in World Cup 53, a tournament in which the side broke a long-standing record in finally reaching the last eight, succumbing to an Albundania side that would go on to reach the final only to be thrashed 5-1 by the Sylvanaes Queendom; a nation that, rumour has it, has placed various embargoes on the Vegaii since losing to them in this cycle's quarter-finals.

This period would be the most successful in the Sea Dragons' history, as the side took home three CoH championships and placed third in two World Cup finals. They could well have attained more silverware, however, if it weren't for the Audioslavians.

Audioslavia and Andossa se Mitrin Vega wouldn't meet until AOCAF34, Audioslavia's first appearance in the regional tournament after having turned down the advances of Atlantian Oceania during the nation's initial tenure in international football. The fledling Bulls would shock the Sea Dragons 1-0 in the semi-final, the youthful all-female incarnation of the Vegaii proving no match for dour Audioslavian hackery.

The sides would play off again in the final of the next AOCAF cup, with Audioslavia again victorious, winning their second major tournament, having previously gone one better than their yellow and blue counterparts in winning the Baptism of Fire tournament.

With a 2-0-0 record against the Sea Dragons, a string of recent titles that include being current holders of the World and AOCAF cups, the destruction of the 'Audioslavian curse', the slightly higher world ranking and a streak that has seen the side suffer only three defeats in the last five years, Audioslavia would have to consider themselves favourites to take the trophy come Saturday night. With expectation, of course, comes pressure, and it remains to be seen whether the Bulls can maintain their rich form in the face of a baying New Montreal crowd and against a team that can claim to have every bit as much talent as the Audioslavians. For Andossa se Mitrin Vega, the World Cup final is the only 'unknown' left in international football, after having experienced the final stages of the Baptism of Fire, Cup of Harmony and AOCAF Cup previously.

ASMV's record in major finals is 3-2. Audioslavia's is 5-6. Perhaps this, on a technicality, is the only paper-evidence that ASMV have an edge in the match.

---

Rubio Sanchez and Sue Dysos took to their seats in the Paladin Dome, taking in the atmosphere of yet another World Cup final. Between them stood their two sons, ten year-old Guillermo and two year-old Daniel, the latter at his first final (although he did technically attend the AOCAF39 final inside his mother), the former at his second final.
"You never get used to it, do you?" said Rubio, as the players took to the field, pre-anthem.
"World Cup finals? No, not at all"
"I remember my first one. First one i attended. How could I forget. Krytenia versus Aguazul, back when Aguazul were a team. The team. I'll never forget the penalty shoot-out for as long as I live. The tension, the drama, watching those brave men in cyan stride up to the spot, dust themselves down, eye the goalkeeper, and in one four-second rush of movement, play with the emotional heartstrings of a nation like the star's tennis balls. It was..."
Rubio was cut off by the sound of Sue singing at the top of the voice. The anthems had started. Alzar la Bandera was being played by a marching band, stood behind the two teams.
"Negras tormentas agitan los aires
nubes oscuras nos impiden ver
Aunque nos espere el dolor y la muerte
contra el enemigo nos llama el deber.
El bien más preciado
es la libertad
hay que defenderla
con fe y valor.
Alza la bandera rojo, verde, negra
Que llevará al pueblo a la emancipación
En pie el pueblo obrero a la batalla
Por el triunfo de la vieja nación"
A fervent roar from the claret and green section of the crowd.
"As I was saying.." started Rubio. He stopped as a bottle of Burung Brew was waved in front of his face. Rubio turned to his right to see a very familiar face.
"JEREMY!"
Jeremy didn't have time to reply before Rubio leapt forward with a hug. The pair embraced for a few seconds before realising, quickly, that they weren't exactly 'huggy' people. Each took a step back kand patted themselves down slightly, clearing their throats as blokishly as possible.
"You don't look six months older than when i last saw you, must have been three years ago"
"Well, that was the idea behind moving to Calorborne. Slow time and all that. Hi Sue"
Sue smiled and said hello, beckoming the two children to wave hello as well.
"I'd ask 'what brings you away from Calorborne', but I suppose it'd be a silly question"
"It's would, a bit. Couldn't miss an Audioslavia World Cup final. Good thing about living in Calorborne of course is that, presuming I return from NMS in a couple of days, my drink'll probably still be cold by the time I get back. Barely eight hours will have gone by over the week. Great stuff. You two are looking old by the way"
"Yes, they're both growing up to be very tall" said Sue, ruffling Guillermo's hair.
"I meant you two, actually" said Jeremy, with a smile. "Rubio's going grey"
"It's not 'grey' its 'defined'"
"Does Sue tell you that?"
"He moans if I don't. Spends more time in front of the mirror than me"
"Anyway" said Rubio, changing the conversation. "Predictions?"
"8-0" said Jeremy
"9-0" said Sue
"Reasonable predictions.
"8-1" said Jeremy
"10-0" said Sue.
Rubio sighed. It was going to be another long ninety minutes.

[Andossa Se Mitrin Vega]

Here we go. The Sea Dragons have managed to scrape their way to the finals of World Cup 64 with a string of one point victories broken only by a draw in the final match of qualification and an extra time thriller, both against new world power Darmen. The All Greens came quite literally from nowhere to mae the semi-finals and proved to be a pain in our ass at the same time.

Yet in the end it was experience, or rather experienced depth, that made the difference. While the All-Greens and Sea Dragons both made their substitutions in extra time hoping that the fresh legs would make the difference, It would be the blue and yellow who would take the advantage and put enormous pressure in the attack. Adam McKay, Javier Zakuani, and Scott Rydzik were no match for Bolexii Pol'age, Lijytukii Cha'ina. Cha’ina was probably most important as he was a wall in goal and keep the Darmeni from pulling even.

* * * * *

And now, as we travel to New Montreal States to face the defending World Cup Champions in the legendary Paladin Dome. Desite ther propensity for losing matches at this point in tournaments, the Bulls currently hold the two most prestigious titles in the world - The WieldCup and the AOCAF. We will have to be at the top of our game to have even a shot at winning.

Also of note - this is the first time that the Sea Dragons will face another defensive side in this tournament. Interesting.

[Wight]

Final

[Audioslavia]

THUMP...THUD... tsshh... ROAR

Andossa se Mitrin Vega winger Tai'ran wheels away towards the crowd, arms aloft, being pursued by most of the other ASMV side. The defensive wall that Audioslavia had created simply stood there, staring at the goal and at the ball that nested comfortably in the bottom corner of it. Audioslavian goalie Imaslavii picked himself up, dusted himself down, and booted the ball out. The contrasting emotions of both sets of players was echoed in the behaviour of both sets of commentators. In Audioslavia's commentary booth, the TV commentator was trying to remain neutral, commenting on how the free-kick was 'beautifully struck', albiet in a somewhat melancholy way. ASMV's commentary booth is a riot of colours and excited voices. "A superb free-kick... and the Sea Dragons.... are a goal up in the world cup final! Tai'ran stepped up and curled it beautifully round the wall... Imaslavii was well beaten, its in off the bar and the Sea Dragons are one step closer to the championship!"

The Bulls kicked off again, but couldn't muster up enough energy to get any decent attacks before the half-time break. 'Slavian manager Israel Klimt takes his men into the changing room.

"Ok guys" he says, looking around at the team, all of which look tired. "This is it. This is where all the practice we've been doing over the past year and a half has to pay off. We're a goal down, thats it, its not the end of the world. We outplayed them for the first twenty minutes and then we let them get back in with a few chances, we've got the midfield, lets use it. Instead of knocking it up to Karsten lets play it about, make the bastards run. You notice how, when you two get the ball in midfield, James? Zonny? You notice how theyre onto you like a shot? That is NOT a cue to try and take them on, thats a cue to pass it around them. Theyre man-marking you, so don't start fannying about when you have the ball! Knock it around, get into space, THEN fanny around, as long as it comes to something? You understand?"

And so, just like the opening minutes of the first half, the Bulls came out firing on all cylinders for the second. The midfielders started knocking the ball out and opening up the ASMV midfield, and all of a sudden the Bulls were getting chances again. 51st minute: Van Wildernis' through-ball finds Eiger. The striker turns his man beautifully and with a sweet, low drive, smacks the ball past the goalie. The world stands up to get a better look at the television, and then slumps down and eats more crisps/potatochips as the shot nicks the outside of the post and goes out of play. 55th minute: Jansen whips a corner into the box, Van Wildernis rises like the proverbial salmon and nods the ball down for Ryan who is arriving on the edge of the area. The centre-half smacks it like you'd expect a centre-half to smack a football and the world gets off its collective ass again. It cringes for a second, but then slump down as Zyh'athkim gets his hands in the way and palms the ball over the bar. The world then sighs as the Bulls waste the corner. Apart from those parts of the world which fall under the category 'pub in Audioslavia'. These places see people smashing glasses and bottles on the floor as Audioslavia come close time and time again.

Seventy minutes have gone and Jansen flicks the ball into the box, but his pass falls well short, and is intercepted by Kim'kalo. Kim'kalo goes to hoof the ball upfield, but instead picks out a perfect fifty-yard pass to Tai'ran on the left wing. Tai'ran sprints upfield, cutting in towards the goal. Garcia goes to intercept Tai'ran but slips and falls on his arse. Tai'ran carries the ball past him and plays it square to the centre-forward Tia-bel. With one touch he carries the ball in front of him and sets himself up for a shot. With Imaslavii off his line and in no-mans land he contemplates a lob, but instead thinks 'fuck it' and decides to bury the ball in the corner. He sets up, swings his foot, but before his foot can follow through and sweep the ball in for 2-0 his leg iis kicked away by a desperate Ruy Garcia. The strier tumbles to the ground and the ball bobbles towards Imasaviiwho doesn't even bother picking it up. The referee is already pointing to the spot, whilst reaching for a card. Its red, Garcia is sent off for a profession foul, and its all falling apart for the Bulls.

The players crowd round the area. With a quarter of an hour to go, a two-nil scoreline would definately bury the game. However if the striker misses, then it might just spur the Bulls on. Its Kel'tas versus Imaslavii. The Andossa se Mitrin Vega striker sets the ball down on the turf and walks back calmly. The referee blows the whistle, and he turns round and swoops in for the kill. With a blistering crack he lets rip and sends the ball crashing towards the goal. Its another moment for the world's heart to skip a beat, and for a split-second the guy-in-charge-of-the-scoreboard goes to change the scoreline to '2-0'. Imaslavii has different ideas though, and with a gallant leap he spreads himself accross to the left hand side of the goal and knocks the ball away for a corner. Ryan and Vazquez jump on his back to congratulate him, whilst Kel'tas looks at his feet for a second before getting ready for the corner. Tai'ran whips it in. Ryan rises for it, but can't out-jump Ther'tai who beats him to it and diverts the ball towards goal with his forehead. Imaslavii is left rooted to the spot and is forced to watch the ball dip over him, and off the bar and in the air. The goalie, now back-peddalling, is off balance and its anyone's ball, but Rijsbergen is there to beat Kel'tas in the air and head it away to safety.

Ten minutes left and the Bulls are struggling to get the ball out of their own half, let alone get an equaliser. The Sea Dragons constantly put pressure on the blank space in their defence, Courier has to cover and as a result the midfield is torn apart from the middle, allowing the Vegaii to run riot whilst Tai'ran gets in cross after cross. Kel'tas gets a half-chance from a deflection, and a Tia'bel header is cleared off the line before the Bulls embark on what looks like their last attack of the world cup, bang on the ninety minute mark. Ryan wins the ball on the edge of the box with a brilliant sliding tackle and knocks the ball along to Zonnestraal Jansen. Jansen's electic pace has not waned over the ninety minutes and he sets off, skinning his marker and getting the ball up down the left hand side. A square ball sends Van Wildernis through, and its three on three at the ASMV end with every player on both teams sprinting up behind them, even Audioslavia's goalie is making his way up the pitch. Van Wildernis plays a one-two with Eiger and, with the return pass, nut-megs Im'untu to let in Jansen again on the left hand side. Jansen's cross is fast and perfectly placed, coming to Eiger like a dart. Eiger however, leaves it and lets the ball run through his legs. It seems like the wrong option with Tas'dyn right behind him but the ASMV centre-half can't react quick enough and the ball rebounds off of the inside of his left leg, and falls straight to Matias Garrastazu.

Garrastazu steadies himself. He's nine yards away from goal, parallell with the right-hand line of the six-yard box. The goalkeeper is covering the opposite post, and is scrambling to get accross. He's basically on his own. The three defenders have been torn apart by the swift move and the midfielders aren't anywhere near the goal. The ball bounces towards him agonisingly slowly, and all he has to do is direct it into the goal. Garrastazu breathes, sets himself up for the easiest goal he'll score in his life, and with a swift movement of his left foot, moves to sweep the ball into the centre of the goal to get the match into extra time. Or maybe not, maybe the Bulls could get a second injury-time goal and turn the game around completely at the death. Either way, he was going to score. Meeting the ball sweetly, McLlroy swivels and hooks the ball goalwards. Collectively, the entire ASMV side groan whilst the 'slavian side get ready to celebrate like they've never celebrated before.

And then the ball hits the post.

And goes... in the goal.

And the referee blows for full time.

Up in the stands, Jeremy Jaffacake sighs and assumes Crystilakere or Vilita have just won the world cup. He can't quite believe that, in the last minute of a World Cup final, Audioslavia have scored a goal.

History has always had a tendency to repeat itself when it comes to Audioslavian football, and this occasion is no different. Deep into the first half of extra-time, Karsten Eiger receives a square ball from Zonnestraal Jansen and, after steadying himself, strides forward and blooters the ball past a stationary goalkeeper for 2-1. All Audioslavia have to do now is weather the storm, and Audioslavian football has been weathering storms for centuries.

FINAL SCORE
Audioslavia 2 (Garrastazu 90, Eiger 103)
Andossa se Mitrin Vega 1 (Tai'ran 37)

Sue Dysos had to rub her eyes a number of times during the writing of the article. Audioslavia and their domination of world football. Five years, only two defeats (technically three, but any mention of the defeat to Kry<REDACTED>ia has been rendered illegal), two World Cups in a row, two AOCAF Cups in a row, everything their hearts desired. It was supposed to be off-season with regards to football but, as with four years ago, she was utterly snowed under at work. Weverton Sporadic - an unused substitute in the final and semi-final - had finally retired from international football at the ripe old age of 39, necessitating various fawning recaps of his career - from that goal against Cafundeu in AOCAF34 to his assist in the semi-final of World Cup 63. The nation apparently wanted to know everything about Israel Klimt, the erudite yet reserved national-team manager who had lead the side to these two triumphs, and although Karsten Eiger was already a household name after his heroics during WC63 he now risked being mobbed every time he left the house, and had expressed desire to return to his home in Polar Islandstates as soon as the official celebrations had ended.

There was even an article, written by an un-known freelancer with a very familiar writing style, that highlighted similarities between the game and the finals of World Cup 19 and World Cup 20, similar only but for the last-minute goal.

As she hammered out the last hundred words to an article on the specific type of toothpaste used by winger Zonnestraal Jansen, her Krytenian husband leaned over her and watched the words appear on the screen.

"Are you Audioslavians still banging on about that World Cup thing?" asked Rubio.
"It was last week. You've got another forty years of it to come, my darling" replied Sue, making sure to make the last two words sound as sarcastic as possible.
Rubio grunted in annoyance.
"We beat you last year" he said, nodding.
"I'm sorry, I can't hear you" said Sue, "not over the sound of... do you hear it? Do you?"
Rubio stood and listened.
"It's the engine sound of the Champions Bus" said Sue. "Toot f****g toot, motherf****er"