Cup of Harmony 58 [Everything Thread]

by **Falcus** » Sun Oct 06, 2013 6:01 pm

MD2 Results from Free Republics:

Group E
Free Republics 3–1 Felix
Andossa Se Mitrin Vega 2–1 Albaie

  Group E                     Pld   W  D  L   GF  GA  GD  Pts 
1 Free Republics                2   1  1  0    4   2  +2    4
2 Andossa Se Mitrin Vega        1   1  0  0    2   1  +1    3
3 Felix                         2   1  0  1    2   3  −1    3
4 Albaie                        2   0  1  1    2   3  −1    1
5 Qazox                         1   0  0  1    0   1  −1    0

Group F
The Licentian Isles 1–0 Callumackbar
Super-Llamaland 1–0 Asløtten-Bëðerbørg så Česky

  Group F                     Pld   W  D  L   GF  GA  GD  Pts 
1 The Licentian Isles           2   1  1  0    4   3  +1    4
2 Mangolana                     1   1  0  0    2   0  +2    3
3 Super-Llamaland               1   1  0  0    1   0  +1    3
4 Åsløtten-Bëðerbørg så Česky   1   0  1  1    3   4  -1    1
6 Callumackbar                  2   0  0  2    0   3  −3    0

Group G
Paradystopia 1–0 Crystal Empire
Estope 2–3 Iturributa

  Group G                     Pld   W  D  L   GF  GA  GD  Pts 
1 Paradystopia                  2   2  0  0    2   0  +2    6
2 Iturributa                    2   1  0  1    3   3   0    3
3 Jeru FC                       1   0  1  0    0   0   0    1
4 Crystal Empire                2   0  1  1    0   1  −1    1
5 Estope                        1   0  0  1    2   3  −1    0

Group H
Northern Sunrise Islands 3–2 New Sideburn
Vaugania 1–1 Saugeais

  Group H                     Pld   W  D  L   GF  GA  GD  Pts 
1 Saugeais                      2   1  1  0    3   1  +2    4
2 Northern Sunrise Islands      2   1  0  1    3   4  −1    3
3 Nouvel Ecosse                 1   0  1  0    2   2   0    1
4 New Sideburn                  2   0  1  1    4   5  −1    1
5 Vaugania                      1   0  1  0    1   1   0    1

by **Gregoryisgodistan** » Sun Oct 06, 2013 6:21 pm

The following is a speech by Lord Almighty Gregory to the people of Gregoryisgodistan

OOC: Only the first four paragraphs of this speech are actually true IC-wise. The rest are essentially propaganda and should not necessarily be regarded as fact. However, everyone in Gregoryisgodistan believes the whole speech is true. However, there are one or two sentences after the fourth paragraph that are actually true. Likewise, some material in the first four paragrpaphs (like Lord Almighty Gregory creating the universe) is not true. TG me if you’re unsure.

Greetings, comrades, citizens, and slaves. I am speaking to you today to clarify a few facts in response to an article that was published in the Free Republics. First, I referred to The Saint as “the Holy Book of Saintland.” I am well aware, that the Bible, not the Saint, is the holy book of Saintland. However, the Saint contains an interactive Bible video game, where anyone can learn outrageous lies about the universe and play games to boot. For instance, one despicable game involves catching animals to save them from a so-called “Great Flood” that some alleged God caused. There was never any Great Flood. I created the Universe approximately 2,013 years ago and there has not been any flood since that enveloped the entire world. And if I did make such a flood, why would I show mercy to this so-called “Noah” person who appears to believe in some alien and imaginary other God? It makes no sense. Sure, it does have some redeeming value like the Football Simulator, but when coupled with the book and game full of sin, it is entirely despicable and cannot be saved for value.

Second, Free Republics seems to think that the soccer team nicknamed the “Foot Slaves” consists of actual slaves. Although we used to put slaves on our athletic teams, we no longer do for fear of defection. At no point did any of our teams consist entirely of slaves. On rare occasions, we may liberate a slave who is good enough to play for us. However, “Foot Slaves” is just a nickname. Many other teams have nicknames which do not literally apply to them. For instance, the Super-Llamaland baseball team, who we are facing in the International Baseball Slam right now, is nicknamed the Tigers. Nobody would think that the team consists of actual tigers, and in fact all their players are human.

Gregoryisgodistan does practice slavery in some cases. Criminals are sentenced to slave labor if their crimes are too serious to warrant a mere fine but not serious enough to warrant death. These slaves are liberated upon completion of their sentence. Additionally, citizens can be selected in the annual slave draft to enter slavery for the remainder of their lives unless liberated. This is considered a civic duty, much like the military draft many nations have. Any child born to slave parents remains a slave until they turn 18, and they are then liberated unless they were selected in the slave draft prior to that point.

I have instructed my staff to forward a transcript of this speech to the Free Republics government to clear up any misconceptions.

There is one more thing I want to make perfectly clear - the Eastfield Lodge team did not arrive at the game tonight via time travel, no matter what propaganda the international press may spew. I should remind you that media from outside Gregoryisgodistan is banned in this country, so please ignore any reports you may accidentally overhear. Time travel is impossible for all except God, and I am the Lord your God. The Eastfield Lodge team is not full of Gods. While they may have appeared to arrive at the game via time travel, let me explain what really happened.

The Eastfield Lodge team was kidnapped by agents of the Church of Saintland, who apparently mistook them for our team because they were going to the same stadium. As you know, the Church of Saintland insists on publishing their lies and refuses to acknowledge the true Lord. I believe this attempt at terrorism is retaliation for our threat to burn as many copies of The Saint as possible. Unfortunately, they kidnapped the wrong team. Nobody said they were bright, and anyone who can’t even spell the name of their false God correctly probably isn’t. However, in my all-knowing glory, I realized the Church of Saintland had made a terrible mistake and I called them and attempted to negotiate the release of the Eastfield Lodge team. They refused, but the game had to be played. As a result, I used my sheer glory and power to teleport the Eastfield Lodge team from the building where they were being held hostage to the stadium, thereby allowing them to arrive in time for kickoff.

I wish to let the Church of Saintland know that should they wind up kidnapping our team, we will interpret it as an act of war and immediately commence with bombing Saintland. Should Free Republics ally with their neighbor, we will bomb them too. I should remind those two nations that we possess my own invention, the solar powered bomb, which is as powerful as your average atomic bomb but far easier to produce. We currently have about 750 in our arsenal, and are producing an average of one a week. It will be devastating to your countries if you force us to pursue this action.

Thank you, and good night.

by **Jeruselem** » Sun Oct 06, 2013 7:18 pm

Jeruselem coach Princess Melody and Julia Dallas watching the San Jose Guayabal vs Astograth game in Falcus because Jeruselem had a bye

Julia: Hopefully no one wins this game
Melody: Yes, considering we're last at the moment
Julia: It's not very exciting
Melody: Compared to our game
Julia: Maybe we should have gone to the other game
Melody: No, we're more concerned about these two teams

Julia: Someone thought I was your daughter
Melody: You are about the same age and height
Julia: Except I'm blonde, and not a redhead
Melody: Anyone in the know would know you aren't Amy
Julia: I don't even look like you
Melody: Exactly

Julia: Hope it stays like 1-1 now
Melody: Works for me, means we can catch up when they have their byes
Julia: Those guys are looking down your dress
Melody: And, cheap thrills for those who dare
Julia: Not wearing a bra today?
Melody: I don't need one

Julia: I do, I have pancakes for boobs
Melody: They aren't too bad
Julia: Compared the gold standard you set
Melody: 24 carat here Julia, none of that 9 carat rubbish
Julia: Shouldn't you be with the team in training?
Melody: I'm doing some intelligence gathering on SJG

Julia: I guess it's best done in a live game
Melody: Astrograth are a good opponent to see what SJG have got against us
Julia: I'm impressed by the team
Melody: But I'm here to find weaknesses as well
Julia: Did you have a wear such a short shirt?
Melody: Well, if it's too long it might get caught on a chair and rip off ya know

Julia: Never happened to me
Melody: I'm older than you, I done far more travelling
Julia: I guess these things happen
Melody: When I was coaching Jeru FC, one of the boys closed the door and ripped off my skirt when I was walking out one day
Julia: Yeah?
Melody: Of course I was standing there with no pants and just a top

Julia: Embarassed?
Melody: I just got cranky at them and made them train harder
Julia: Wow, I would have been paralysed
Melody: But you work for Naked News now
Julia: Well in the past, now it doesn't bother me I guess
Melody: See, you're a true Dallas.

by **San Jose Guayabal** » Sun Oct 06, 2013 7:27 pm

"Jasan nire lagun?" You suffered my friend?

Yesterday, some shoddy newspaper from Astograth called "The Rumiatzi Sentinel" or rather said, the "The Drunken Rumiatzi Sentinel" said some things that were a real joke to us at SJG.

"What the hell did you just say about us, you little quasi-'Butans? We’ll have you know we graduated top of our class in the Baptism of Fire, and have been involved in numerous secret raids on the WCC sandwich bar, and have over 300 confirmed goals. We are trained in gorilla formations and are the top chokers in the entire Confederación Rushmori de Fútbol. You are nothing to us but just another team of second-tier benchwarmers. We will wipe you the hell out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before in this multiverse, mark our zakinaka words. You think you can get away with saying that stuff to us over the press? Think again, losers. As we speak we are contacting our secret network of homicidal bears across the multiverse and your every movement is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, or the stay. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your win percentage. You’re zakinaka dead, kids. We can be anywhere, anytime, and can score in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just from penalty kicks. Not only are we extensively trained in getting away with professional fouls, but have access to the entire arsenal of the Astograthian First Division and will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable arses off the face of Falcus, you little wannabees. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little “clever” comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your tongue. But you couldn’t, you didn’t, and now you’re paying the price, you damn idiots. We will chant fury all over you and you will drown in it. You’re dead, lagunak."

And now I wonder, (In Astograthi) Nola ez egon sufrimendua sentitzea da aurkari baten aurka gutxietsi atzo azken unera arte? (English) How does it feel to be suffering until the last minute against an opponent who was underestimated by you yesterday? and my answer is this:

Game Resume:

Yes, the Olibondeka suffered last night against "Los Chaparreros"In a game that concluded 1-1, in which Domino SJG pleasure, but a costly mistake that took away the win but not the top of Group C, which we will fight it against Jeruselem, next Tuesday.

SJG started the game in good shape, with good possession of the ball from them and a "Olibondeka" so timid playing without proposals, SJG opened the scoring in the 25th minute, through Rudy Valencia, which based on a hotly contested move, removed the prescence of three defenders and unleashed a powerful shot to the bottom corner of the goal, then SJG had more scoring opportunities that could not realize.

Already in the second half, SJG continued to dominate the match until the 90th minute penalty Bakaikoa scored the final 1-1 draw, with SJG which maintains the lead Astograth sharing it with the next game is against Jeruselem.

SJG 1-1 Astograth

Goals: SJG: Valencia, 25'
Goals: AST: Bakaikoa, 90'

Substitutions:
No

Ball possesion: SJG 50%, AST 50%

Shots: SJG: 9, AST: 5

Yellow and red cards: There weren't any cards.

by **Saugeais** » Sun Oct 06, 2013 7:52 pm

"So we turn the momentum from good to crap by drawing against Vaugania?"

"Sure seems that way. It was their first match in the Cup of Harmony so there wasn't a previous match to look at their schemes and style of play, as I'm sure it would be different than what they used in the qualifying cycle. Either way, there should be no excuse for a team to put up a horrendous showing."

"Bad passing, bad tackling, just all around bad. And from a 12th ranked team, no less. Look, I'm happy that Baudouin Richelieu ended his international scoring drought last game, but going into a tackle two footed in the second half, knowing full well that you'll be sent off, is just bad form and I don't think he'll be back on the pitch."

"How do you know? You never know what Franco Delgado will do, coming from Bugny. He'll let anyone play if it means his team will have an edge. I'm sure he's sitting Baudouin down now, and telling him, "I love the play, but next time avoid the red card. The team needs you." Mixes the congratulatory with the persuasion to do it again."

"If it gets results, I'm all for it. But Saugeais were only up 1-0 at that point, 70 minutes gone in the match. Bumping down to 10 men really hurt the Knights' wing play, and in that regard, led to the Vaugania goal 5 minutes after Baudouin's sending off. That red card brought new life to that team, and they played with a purpose, whereas Saugeais just let Vaugania walk over them."

"Well maybe Franco can sit all the squad members down during the bye to watch their next two opponents, in New Sideburn and Nouvel Ecosse, and find a way to take the final 6 points and move on from the group."

"One can hope, especially after this dismal showing."

by **Jeru FC** » Sun Oct 06, 2013 8:09 pm

Princess Katy and Jeru FC coach Andre from NMS in the Free Republics at the Paradystopia vs Crystal Ponies game

Katy: This is Princess Katy for CoH in the Free Republics, I'm with the Jeru FC coach who's been watching the game Paradystopia vs Crystal Ponies today.
Andre: Afternoon everyone
Katy: A bit of intelligence gathering on future opponent Paradystopia
Andre: All legal, I'm allowed to. I just here to learn how they play football
Katy: Are you concerned?
Andre: Well, they are a solid team and deserve to lead the Group G team with good solid football

Katy: Crystal Ponies or Crystal Empire unlucky today.
Andre: Yes but they need to learn how to score goals. Goals win games. Draws aren't good enough.
Katy: Are you leaving the boys alone today is a good idea?
Andre: They will be training all day. My assistant will keep the boys under control.
Katy: There's claims by some you've been lobbying for the Jeruselem job
Andre: That's rubbish, I like my job here even if it does make one older faster

Katy: So where does this news come from?
Andre: Not me, I have no role in these claims.
Katy: Maybe people who want a man to coach Jeruselem
Andre: I'd say it's a campaign against your sister by men. I would ignore that. I'm happy here
Katy: Jeru FC need to pick up their game now for the next 3 games
Andre: I can't deny that, the boys need to stop slacking

Katy: Do you expect the boys to win this cup?
Andre: No, looking at the opposition we could face it's going to be hard to get to the final
Katy: 3 wins coming up then?
Andre: That's the target, although two and one draw might do
Katy: You do want to avoid bigger seeds by finishing first
Andre: As long as we make the 2nd round

Katy: Do you learn anything today?
Andre: Yes, and it is good to take a break from routine just to break the monotony
Katy: Good luck for the next game
Andre: Yes, we need a win really. Draws won't be much good to us now.
Katy: The pressure is on Jeruselem and Jeru FC
Andre: All teams are under pressure, but it's who delivers suceeds in the end

Katy: We hope you can succeed
Andre: That's why I'm here, these jobs aren't for lazy people. I work hard for my money
Katy: Football management is pretty hard work
Andre: You never know what will happen in this job
Katy: See you all later, and support our teams.

by **New Sideburn** » Sun Oct 06, 2013 8:22 pm

EDIT: I am Bad with Puppets, and this is meant to be Brenecia's post.

THE ROZELLE OBSERVER
4-4-2 The Herald Of A New Age?
by Derek Mackan

To the surprise of everyone, the Patriots lined up against Barunia in a 4-4-2 that had, to that date, never been used by the WCC-era Brenecian national team.

But changes to last match's team, including Gareth Farrell partnering Kuepper in attack, Lara Callan on the left wing, Althea Chenoweth as a defensive anchor alongside captain Fiona Sylver, Jack Dane as a left-back and Stephen Mansfield in goal proved very successful in not only stunting the aggression of the fast, deadly Suns, but of forcing them back in vicious, quick counter-attacks. Brenecia only managed 39% possession, and yet scored four times throughout the match.

But the purpose of this article is not to outline the match - see the front page report for that. This is to go deeper into the new formation; strengths, weaknesses, and Vance Sterling's own attributes as a manager.

This is, in fact, Sterling's first game as a full-fledged manager, interim or not. He's only recently even been an assistant; he retired at 33 after hamstring problems, and was then-captain of North Hall and vice-captain of the national team. He acted as assistant of North Hall under Brian Patrick for three years, moving with him to Echidnan Sutreich Crusade after that until being called to service in the national team. While a supporter of Hemingway while he was at the squad, he's not exactly taken pains to stick to the old regime, and the mark he's stamped on Brenecia is one that might well stay through the ages.

Issues with the formation? A primary concern will be depth. Farrell and Kuepper are the only dedicated centre-forwards in the side, though Fontaine is capable of serving in the role and Twining could go behind in a 4-4-1-1. Another will be that our wings are no longer our strongest aspect, Sterling seeming more focused on clamping them down then sending Allbeck and Dane forward. Granted, our wing play was hardly working as intended before, either. However, now we have an added forward thrust, as well as depth in midfield. Chenoweth, who is the first black player to play for Brenecia in the modern era, gave Sylver some much-needed defensive support and allowed Sylver to dictate the flow of the play at her own pace. Similarly, the addition of the larger, more physical Gareth Farrell allowed Kuepper to thrive in the more well-rounded role to which he is better-suited. Ash Twining, who had previously been seen as the engine of all Brenecia's offensive moves, didn't even make the team, and while she is undoubtedly a skilled player she simply did not fit into Sterling's plans.

Our next match... isn't. We have a bye. However, still to come are our greatest challenges, Astograth and Jeruselem. The former have somehow dropped the ball against San Jose, but will still likely steamroll most things in their path. Jeruselem are less consistent, and a draw with them is very much within reach... but still unlikely. However, with Sterling's new tactics in place, we could well fetch another scalp... but it remains to be seen for certain.

by **Astograth** » Sun Oct 06, 2013 8:26 pm

Laughably incorrect attack by the SJG Tribune
ZURE IZKANTZA MAILA HOBETU BEHAR DUZU, LAGUN?
Get your facts straight, mate!

In recent hours, it has come to our attention that the SJG Tribune, a tabloid of little journalistic value, has engaged in all-out attack on the Sentinel due to a message published some days ago, which has apparently distorted their perception of yesterday's 1-1 draw between Olibondeka and “Los Chaparreros”; that they feel the need to madly celebrate giving up the lead at the very last minute of normal time only increases the hilarity. Furthermore, there are some details that must be brought to the attention of the sports editors at the SJG Tribune:

Your headline is nonsense. “Jasan nire lagun?” is not standard Astograthian, and “yasan nire lagun?” would still mean something like “suffering [of] mine friend?”. You meant to write “Pairatu zara, lagun?”.
“Nola ez egon sufrimendua sentitzea da aurkari baten aurka gutxietsi atzo azken unera arte?” is such a convoluted mess it's not even worth correcting. It also employs an archaic dialect. We recommend you familiarise yourself with our language before trying to one-up us in it.
Our correct demonym is Astograthian.
Our correct trigramme is ASG.

We enclose a picture of the 50th Cup of Harmony trophy. And the 12th Copa Rushmori. Why? Because. Cheers.

by **Qazox** » Sun Oct 06, 2013 9:24 pm

QAZOX has day off still LAST.

Why is the first and last words of the open in all-caps?

Why has Qazoxian football sucked for two decades?

Why are we asking these questions, as if you will answer them?

How come I don't have a Samsung Galaxy watch phone yet?

Can the Wolves, or Eagles, or Pheonix, or whatever next the team will call themselves rebound against Free Republics?

Can I stop writing in Questions?

What do you mean, it's part of my contract?

Suzie, will you get my lawyer on the phone?

What do you mean he's dropped me as a client?

by **Estope** » Sun Oct 06, 2013 9:36 pm

Well it's official. Emanuel Inzer is out as head of Estope's national soccer team. The team came out flat in their Cup of Harmony 58 opener and were absolutely embarrassed in the first 45 minutes. Iturributa controlled the game from the very beginning and scored three goals in the opening twenty minutes to put the match out of hand before it even really got started. The few fans who were not already apathetic towards this team and made the journey to the Free Republics were utterly disappointed and started to chant Fire Inzer Now. RepublicSoft Stadium seats about 42,000 but only about 1,000 of them were Estope fans. The Iturributa traveled in droves to support their team and the difference was very noticeable. The atmosphere was basically one of an away game for Estope. By halftime most Estope fans had found their way to the exit leaving almost an entire section empty. The few remaining fans booed loudly as team entered the locker and shouted at Inzer a string of profanity. At home in Estope TV ratings were an all time low as an estimated 4,000 TV's were stilled tuned into the game, way down from the usual millions of viewers. The Estope Soccer Federation must have noticed and decided to promptly take action. Inzer was notified via text message of his dismissal at halftime. Thinking this was a cruel joke, Inzer continued to perform his duties as manager until finally Brian Monte, chairman of the ESA came down to tell him that he was in fact serious and it was effective immediately. Eli Gishal was selected to take over on an interim basis until the end of the Cup of Harmony when a permanent replacement can be found. Upon re-entering the field, the small fan base cheered as loud as they had all day because of the news. The team did better in the second half and actually scored two goals while not allowing any. This could be because of the new coaching or just because Iturributa had many subs in. Either way the fans were happy just to finally rid themselves of Inzer and also to have some results to prove he was bad for the team. This was an historic day for Estope Soccer because Inzer had been the only manager in the history of the national team. He coached 140 games and left with a 51-25 -64 record. But now the search begins for a suitable replacement who can make the next step for this program, something Inzer never could quite accomplish.

Estope 2–3 Iturributa

OOC: Please TG me any candidates for Estope's job opening.

by **Filopines** » Mon Oct 07, 2013 2:55 am

The train station was a mess. It was filled with fans, cameramen, journalists and to make it worse, it was 8:00 in the morning so many people were at the station to go to work. It was loud too. Louder than a school assembly before the principal arrives. The reason for the noise and the crowd was because the Filopines national football team for the Cup of Harmony 58 was on their way to Falcus. If only planes were allowed on Falconian territory. No one really likes their neighbors. But you gotta adjust.

A few days later...

Lucy felt lonely. Her fiancé, Shaun, was part of the team. Lucy had no family and only a few friends. That explains her loneliness.

She felt too tired to go to work, especially on a Monday morning, but she had to stay strong. Usually on Monday mornings, Shaun would prepare everything Lucy needed for work. But Shaun was gone. (Rhyme Count: 1) She slowly undressed and took a lengthy shower and didn't bother to dry her hair. She put on a white bra, purple panties, business trousers and shirt and a black blazer. She slouched all the way to the kitchen where she had one piece of toast bread for breakfast. She prepared everything she needed for work herself and left the house. I'm too tired to go to work!, she thought to herself. She missed Shaun. Badly.

The car turned on and along with it the radio. Her most hated song came on exactly the same time she turned it on. "Boom, diggity boom, boom, diggity, diggity dog-dog." It actually made her cringe. When she tried to change stations, it never changed. It just stayed the same no matter what button she pressed. She was in for a long ride.

She found her usual parking spot, marked: Lucille Eisenmann. It was going to be 'Albrecht' soon as she was to be wed in less than six months. She hesitated. I don't need to go work, do I? This might seem unusual as it has only been three or so days but Lucy misses Shaun very, very badly. She needed his hands, she needed his face, she needed his warm breath on her shoulder and what she needed the most was his penis.

She waited in her car for a few minutes until some of her fellow workmates started arriving. One of them told Lucy to roll down her car window and she was okay with it.
"Lucy, what are you waiting for? Early meeting today!"
She struggled to come up with an excuse. "I'm still fixing up my makeup, you know." She shouldn't have said that. The man he was talking to was among the smartest in their workplace.
"Then why isn't your mirror thing down?"
She struggled once more. "You know what, Dean? I'm feeling extremely horny today."
"I'm married, Lucy and you're soon to be married. I'm not as dumb as you think."
"I know you're not dumb. Sorry about that. Move on."
Lucy felt weird. She felt inclined to rebel. She hasn't felt like this since she was sixteen and didn't use protection. "You can be rebellious, Lucille. Let's do this." She did not go into work that day.

There was nothing to do. Lucy started to regret not working as she was bored. All she did for three hours was sleep. Naked. Yet she was still bored. Ughh..., she thought. What to do on this sunny day?

The phone rang. She did not answer.

The phone rang once more. Once again, she did not answer.

The phone rang for the third time. She did not answer. However, this time there was a voice-mail. "Hey, Lucy, how are you? I miss you very, very much and I need to see you. Immediately. I'm serious, Luce. I need to see you. Love you! Shaun."
"Alright. Next time, I'll pick it up."

The phone never rang again.

She became hungry and went to BurgerWich for some dinner. Four pieces chicken, one large drink, one large chips, one large gravy, one large coleslaw, one toy. Once she arrived home, she decided to call Shaun. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. The ringing stopped.
Shaun answered. "Hello? Lucy?"
"Shaun? Is that you?" Lucy felt unusually scared.
"Lucy! Hey! Why didn't you answer earlier?" Luckily, he sounded upbeat.
"I didn't know it was you! You should've called to my cell!"
"Oh, whoops. Guess I shouldn't have done that. Next time, I promise I will call you to your cell."
"Okay, honey. Is that all?"
"That's all."
"Okay, love you, honey. I miss you! Bye! Mwah!" A shoddy attempt of a kiss over the phone.
"Actually, wait. Come here. Come to Falcus."
"What?"
"You heard me, Lucy. Come to Falcus! I miss you too much."
"You know I have work!" She felt bad for lying, but whatever.
"Fuck work!"
Her mouth was open wide in shock. "Language, honey!"
"Sorry 'bout that, but who cares about work? Come here!"
"Um, alright." At first she slightly hesitated but then gained more confidence. "I'll come!"

Lucy was scared. She had never been to Falcus. From what she had learned from school, family, friends, work, news and the government, Falcus was dangerous. Very dangerous. She lived for one year in other neighboring nation, Taeshan but never Falcus. Falcus, the barren land full of crime and hostility. She wasn't sure if that was true or not but the sources seemed trustworthy to her. However during her conversation with Shaun earlier, Shaun never halted talking about how beautiful Falcus apparently was. She wasn't sure who to trust, but she wouldn't take any risks. She had to stay as safe as possible during her trip.

The very next day, as early as possible, she drove to Downham International Airport. Luckily, Downham was one of the closest major Filopinian cities to the land border along with Mandori and Fort Town if you count sea borders. The radio was stuck on the same atrocious station as it was yesterday and couldn't change it to her favourite station. She wondered why it was on this station in the first place. Looks like another long drive for Ms Eisenmann today. She casually walked up to a random counter. "One ticket to Upham, please!" she said happily and excitedly.
"The football?" asked the middle-aged lady at the counter.
"Oh, yes!"
"The team is playing at Nestingham. Maybe you should buy a ticket for a flight to Nestingham? Or if you're sightseeing, you could buy a ticket to Falcus?"
"Um, one ticket to Birdnestham, then!" said Lucy feeling even more excited.
"Nestingham."
"Whatever it's called."
"One ticket to Nestingham coming up."
"Yay!"
"I kid, I kid." Lucy grew confused. "I take it you've ne'er been to Falcus before?"
"That's right?" She felt scared. Really scared. And she didn't even know why.
"That means you haven't heard about the no cars and no planes rule." The lady at the counter began to laugh hysterically. Lucy felt humiliated.
"You're mean!"
"You're naive!" She laughed even harder.
"Fuck you. Fuck you and all you love!" She went from humiliation to anger and clenched fists.
"I love you. Therefore, you're saying 'fuck you'to your self." Lucy felt humiliated once again.
"You are a perfect example of a retard."
"Not as slow as you to find out about the trick I played on you!" The lady laughed even harder.

She drove back home as upset as can be. She had never been so humiliated and angry at the same time in her life. Possibly the most disastrous mix of emotions that has ever existed. It means: clenched fist, red face, especially on the cheeks, red eyes too, back slouched and biceps as large as ever. Shaun called again; this time on her mobile phone or cell or whatever the ordinary Filopinian refers to it as. Lucy mentioned the incident at the airport and that she will try the train station the next day. She decided to relax for the rest of the day. She was absolutely exhausted after what had happened at Downham Airport.

The next day, she walked approximately ten minutes to the local train station. She asked the man at the counter for a train ride to Nestingham. The man felt sad for Lucy after she explained, effectively her life story, to the man. The man, nametag: Crawley, told her that all trains heading north were suspended indefinitely. She didn't even bother to ask why, said goodbye to Crawley and walked away with her head down and on the verge of tears.

What to do, what to do? Lucy thought. Shaun called once again; to her mobile phone and the events of the past few days were discussed. Shaun was no help as he couldn't think of any solutions. Lucy suggested she would drive to the Falcus-Filopines border and walk to the closest train station. Shaun was concerned for her safety but failed to think of any other way so Lucy decided to go through with it.

The car radio was broken once again. She finally got the radio fixed and drove and danced simultaneously to the border. It looked like a desert. It was hot. But with her backpack and her current clothes, she was up to the challenge. This was going to be tough.

by **Paradystopia** » Mon Oct 07, 2013 4:24 am

Yes, like a Guayabalan speaking Astograthian, Paradystopi money is often difficult to understand and though most of our travelling fans had the foresight to convert to NS$ before their departure for the Free Republics, scenes such as the one above do still happen.

The Paradystopi Chunk is an oft misunderstood currency, mainly due to our government's insistence upon the use of standard index form rather than a great sea of zeros. Whether this is trying to overlook to occurrence of a long period of inflation in Paradystopia's history in which a single chunk became practically worthless or merely to make the money look neater/more futuristic is something of great discussion amongst people with nothing better to do. Needless to say, I have no intentions of broaching this argument. I just hope to clarify our monetary system.

At the time writing this, the exchange rate stands at 200,143 Chunks to 1 NS Dollar meaning Paradystopia is possibly the only country in the multiverse where it's not uncommon to meet billionaires. Usually most of the population are when they receive a monthly paycheque.

Let's take another look at that note ...

So where to begin ...

The ¤ is the symbol of the chunk and acts as both a prefix and a suffix. For example, ¤100¤. It is supposedly based upon the shape of Paradystopia's original currency, when it was simply misshapen chunks of metal. The most valuable the metal, the greater its worth. This system worked brilliantly for many many years until the discovery of more obscure metals (what's the exchange rate between Iridium and Gallium?) and the onset of alloy-forgery. To this day, an 'alchemist' in Paradystopi is a term for a forger or fraudster.

Anyway, the numbers ...

¤4x10⁷¤ ... or ¤40,000,000¤ if you want to take the fast track to a headache. This is our second largest banknote. The highest being the ¤8x10⁷¤. All of our notes use a binary system so the full set would be:

¤8x10⁷¤ equalling NS$399.7142
¤4x10⁷¤ equalling NS$199.8571
¤2x10⁷¤ equalling NS$99.9286
¤1x10⁷¤ equalling NS$49.9643
¤8x10⁶¤ equalling NS$39.9714
¤4x10⁶¤ equalling NS$19.9857
¤2x10⁶¤ equalling NS$9.9929
¤1x10⁶¤ equalling NS$4.9964
¤8x10⁵¤ equalling NS$3.9971
¤4x10⁵¤ equalling NS$1.9986
¤2x10⁵¤ equalling NS$0.9993
¤1x10⁵¤ equalling NS$0.4996
¤8x10⁴¤ equalling NS$0.3997
¤4x10⁴¤ equalling NS$0.1999
¤2x10⁴¤ equalling NS$0.0999
¤1x10⁴¤ equalling NS$0.0499

We don't use coins ... as the choice of metal would probably rile up many of the traditionalists and lead to a never-ending debate.

With so many different notes, you frequently find many lesser known public figures and locations appearing on them, usually to do with music or the arts as culture is high priority in Paradystopia, that and maths tuition.

So yes, our money is bonkers and probably a large factor in our dreadful economy. I simply ask that you empathise and whatever you do, never ask a Paradystopi to 'spare some change'

Thank you.

ISideWith UK · by **Eastfield Lodge** » Mon Oct 07, 2013 7:36 am

OOC: This is IC'ly written before Gregory's speech above.

Closer win than expected

So after that rather humiliating defeat against Taeshan, where we somehow conceded 5 goals against one of the most defence-minded teams in the footballing multiverse yet only scored 1, we went on to our second match against those blasphemous kufar from Gregoryisgodistan. OK, I'll admit I feel some slight sympathy for those ordinary citizens, because they're being brainwashed by propaganda being spewed out by the state state-controlled media, with no access to foreign media of any sorts. It's the government and its associates that I have beef with, especially their so-called "Lord Almighty" Gregory, the leader of Gregoryisgodistan, who as the nation name suggests, called himself a god. There can be no coming back from that for him, and Allah will surely punish him and his allies when the time comes. Or he may be merciful, who knows?

Anyways, he claimed in a recent speech that none can time travel except for Gregory himself, having heard about our time travelling ability (well, the Doctor and Rassilon's at any rate, the rest can if we go along for a ride). I heard about the speech, especially that bit lambasting us at the end, and then thought, why don't we enter the pitch by TARDIS, just to see how much damage we can do to their propaganda. Or just to see it work overtime really. I took the idea to Rassilon and the Doctor, and they agreed. The plan was to materialise in the TARDIS, walk out, walk back in and then transport the TARDIS a few metres away, and have it rematerialise just before the first TARDIS disappeared, before proceeding on with the game.

We did that, and it was quite funny seeing the reaction on the faces of some of the Gregoryistani (I'll now refuse to write the "isgod" bit; and I don't care if that's the correct demonym) players, especially those who would be the normal brainwashed civilians. No doubt that after the match they were told some cock-and-bull story, probably involving their main nemeses in the Church of Saintland (more heretics, but that's for another day). Anyways, we lined up for the more traditional match opening customs, and before long, that match started.

As you all should know, well you followers based in Eastfield Lodge at any rate, we beat them 3-2, a scoreline which suggests that it was a rather close match, but in fact we dominated almost the entire match, with their first goal coming against the run of play and with a large dollop of luck, and their second a mere consolation given the lack of time to build up another, yet alone an equaliser. OK, we took kickoff, and within a few minutes, play had already settled down, with us pretty much camped inside their half, passing it around and looking for an opening. In fact, it would be 7 minutes into the game before Gregoryistan strung together more than two passes before losing the ball, in which time we'd already taken a few shots at goal, the closest being Jack's curling effort clipping the outside of the bar. The first goal came not long after, when in the twelfth minute Jenny stole the ball from Soccer Jester CLOWNPIREPIE, poked it through to the Doctor, who knocked it past Secret Police Agent Dominic Button, rounded the keeper and rolled the ball into the empty net. 3 minutes later, Gregoryistan had their first shot on goal, with Bottlemaker LP913838 going for it from over 30 yards out but the ball sailed harmlessly past the post.

After another 10 minutes of camping, Gregoryistan managed to break on the counter, with Bottlemaker LP913838, Loyal Friend of ~~Lord Almighty~~ Gregory Possibe and Retired Soldier Commander Lieutenant Warlord McBurgerKing threading through ball to each other around our defence. We contained them well, given they had a man extra, but eventually Bottlemaker LP913838 found himself in space and forced a corner from Blon after a shot at the near post. The ensuing corner was volleyed clear by Pyrovile, whose leg nearly burned Retired Soldier Commander Lieutenant Warlord McWarlord, and it was our turn on the break. The Doctor, Jenny, Jack and Raston were all advancing, against a hastily retreating pair of centre backs. Their efforts proved futile, and Jenny ball over the top was cheekily backheeled by the Doctor into Jack's path, leaving him one on one with the keeper, and the rest is history. 2-0 to us after 27 minutes, and we were cruising.

The rest of the first half went by without much action on Gregoryistan's part, having switched to all-out defence to keep us at bay. For the most part, it worked, and I admire the craftmanship that had been put into making the woodwork of the goals, given the battering they were taking, 4 or 5 vicious shots hitting the post and a couple off the crossbar, with the Doctor and Jack mostly to blame for any damage. Moving on the second half, there was little change in proceedings, but the major change was that Gregoryistan did come out with a view to attack more. They did, and began pressing us further up the pitch, at which point the rain started (yes, it is relevant). They didn't get on the ball all that much, the closest they came to a goal in the first ten minutes was when Soccer Jester FunnyMan294's free kick was headed off the bar and out by Bottlemaker LP913838. We came closer, forcing keeper Prune Farmer 3818F into 3 or 4 top saves. But the first goal of the half would go to Gregoryistan, when Pyrovile slipped on a muddy patch of ground whilst back-pedalling with the ball, and in the process fired the ball towards our goal. Blon managed to head the ball away, only into the path of Bottlemaker LP913838 who couldn't believe his luck. So shortly before the hour mark, Gregoryistan made it 2-1. Whatever momentum boost they gained from that goal however, was wiped out within a few minutes, as we began to push forwards looking to extend our lead and cement that much needed victory.

Annoyingly, Prune Farmer 3818F was on top form, and he managed to save in some way all of the 18 shots we fired at him in the next twenty minutes, including a rather majestic triple save when he pushed Jack's free kick onto the post, punched half-clear the Doctor's ensuing header and clutched the ball gratefully to his chest from Jenny's volley. However, his luck didn't last, and with just 5 minutes of normal time to go, the ball broke free from a 6 player tackle melee on the halfway line. Vastra found herself on the ball, and switched the ball to Raston on the other flank, who touched it off to Creet. Creet then knocked it forward to the Doctor, who cut inside Government Advisor Lordborn Godsam, flicked the ball over the outstretched leg of Secret Police Agent Dominic Button and fired the ball into the top corner, leaving the prune farmer in goal rooted to his spot. 3-1, and we were looking good for three points. The remaining four minutes of normal time were locked in midfield, as we focused on just closing out the game as safely as we could. The fourth official's board went up, and it signalled two extra minutes of stoppage time to be played. And we played defensively, blocking off any and all attacks until with ten seconds to go, Rory was (falsely) deemed to have tripped up Loyal Friend of ~~Lord Almighty~~ Gregory Robert Possibe about five yards outside the box. Loyal Friend of ~~Lord Almighty~~ Gregory Robert Possibe took the free kick quickly, catching us off guard, and Bottlemaker LP913838 wormed his way through the defence, got to the ball, and slotted it home to make the scoreline 3-2. And at kickoff, we cleared the ball forward, at which point the ref blew his whistle for full time.

So there, we've gone and got our first points of this Cup of Harmony campaign, to avenge that opening matchday loss. But our defence remains leaky, and after both matchdays we have got the worst defensive record out of all the teams in the Cup of Harmony. And it doesn't help that the tiebreaker is not Goals Scored, but least Goals Conceded. And with 7 after two matches, that's looking like what will condemn us. Still, we've got a bye match now, so we can prepare for the challenge of the next two games, against Luzvimindia and that crucial fixture against Hutt River. Both must wins, and preferably we'd like a clean sheet in both. With Hutt River conceding as many as possible, thanks.

This is Shabeen Ahmad III, signing off.

by **Andossa Se Mitrin Vega** » Mon Oct 07, 2013 8:58 am

13 Pins – Part 2

The private booth of Olden Stadium in Falkamore was more than adequate for the needs of the gentleman and his companion, a woman of pure exotic beauty, despite the fact that it was a bit plain compared to some of the venues he had visited over the years. The glass was tinted properly thus to protect the identity of the occupants and the room was soundproof enough that other patrons to either side would not be disturbed by what was to take place.

Gently he went about his work as the sides from Andossa Se Mitrin Vega and Albaie went about their warm up routines before the match began. 13 candles, each of the same ghastly white hue, were place along the sill of the window and lit. The flame of each burned low and smokeless in myriad of eerie colors. Satisfied that all was nearly ready, the gentleman quickly hung the “do not disturb” sign on the outside of the door and quietly took his seat, retrieving the small velveteen bag in the process. He glanced to his companion who had already rid herself of the confines of the gown she had been wearing to reveal the intricate runes and glyphs that covered her now naked body. In another place under other circumstances he would have let his much more primal desires be known, but not now. Not here. Other purposes held his mind in check this day.

Slowly he removed the Poppet from the velveteen bag and ran his fingers over it gently. This was truly a work of a skilled craftsman. He would find out soon enough is she was as powerful as others claimed her top be. Slowly he removed the onyx case with the 13 pins from the bag. Gently he removed the first and nodded to his companion who immediately began to chant and dance a macabre dance that made use of bones and raven feathers. He smiled a slight smile. Nothing had been left to chance. This priestess of Eret'tura Zind'jafa'rii would lend even more power to the talisman he would be using. He glance out the window at the Poppets taret, William Dubrack Dubrackson. It was time to test the bond between the two.

Slowly he held the pin above the Poppet before quickly sticking the effigy in the arm. He was careful to keep the prick a small one, he did not want to kill his target, just force him to lose his concentration for a moment. As the pin stuck moss, the target quickly grabbed his arm and rubbed it as if he had been stung by a bee or some other smallish stinging pest. The gentleman smiled wide. This was going to be fun.

****

William Dubrack Dubrackson was having possibly the worst match of his career. Six times thus far he had been moving the ball forward on the counter attack when it seemed the muscles in his left leg tightened up just enough to cause a misstep that resulted in his losing possession of the ball. He knew the Vegai players were extremely talented but felt as if he should be able to hold his own much better. The “cramping” had been enough to see him take extra fluids as well as salt and potassium tablets during the intermission. They hadn’t helped. Four times he had bee forced to pull up just a bit as the notoriously hard-hitting Sea Dragon defenders had arrived. Pack had given him a wicked shot just above the knee that showed a large and painful bruise. Thokradul had barreled into him twice. The smallish Dwarf was seemingly made of granite for William hurt badly on both sides of his ribcage. He was not eager to see the bruising there. And now as he lay on his back, having been run over by the gargantuan Harlader, he would not have been surprised if his spleen were seeping from his nose.

And the match was over. And he had managed nothing to help his squad. If not for a late goal that saw Blackeep feed Ben Werek on a beautiful cross, his side would have, and probably should have been clean sheeted. William Dubrack Dubrackson lay there for quite some time before venturing to move.

****

In the private booth where the couple had been during the match, a cleaning woman wondered why anyone would pour wax on the window sill. Her much younger and much more open-minded assistant just giggled and made a lewd comment about freaks and their “games”

by **Taeshan** » Mon Oct 07, 2013 10:18 am

COH 3

http://chirb.it/KAdcMG

by **Free Republics** » Mon Oct 07, 2013 1:21 pm

Sporting World

Trolls lose on the pitch and in the courtroom
by: Rule Theriault

As you are no doubt aware by now, the Felix Trolls have long been a thorn in our side. They've been bitter ever since we beat them twice in the Di Bradini Cup. Ever since, they just can't resist making fools of themselves by trying to tear us down. A reporter from that despicable nation by the name of Steven Smith has published many nasty and untruthful things about our nation, our National Soccer Team and even the beautiful and talented Nova Hellstrom. Well, he finally got his comeuppance today.

Just yesterday, Steven referred to our National Soccer Team as "the crappy team that is the Free Republics." That was a mild statement by his standards. In a previous article, he alleged that we purposely shut off their lights while they were practicing. This isn't some backward Esportivan country, where I hear power outages are common. However, there is some truth to his claims. You see, the Felix National Team forgot to pay the electric bill at the stadium they had rented, so the power company shut electricity off to the stadium. While the government is paying electric bills for the Cup of Harmony, teams that play friendlies in the Free Republics have to pay their own electric bills. Indeed, I think it is quite possible that some Troll took the opportunity to badmouth our country as they were about to be informed of this requirement. There must not be very many Republicans living in Felix, but then again why would any Republican want to live in an undeveloped nation like Felix?

Well, it seems that Nova finally got sick of being slandered by that nasty reporter from Felix. After he published an article in which he called her a "a sad excuse of a reporter," Nova went to the court in the Republic of Jolarus, a Republic with some of the strictest laws against defamation in the entire FFR. Nova filed a lawsuit against Steven Smith for numerous counts of libel and even a count of impugning the virtue of a lady. As long-time readers of Sporting World will remember, Steven Smith published absolutely false claims that I was having an affair with Nova. While she is a friend of my family and my team, I have remained faithful to my wife whom, I assure you, resents all allegations to the contrary. As it turns out, impugning the virtue of a lady, which is only a tort in Jolarus, carries a much larger fine than mere libel. I admit that I've never had much use for the Christian Coalition before, but I must say that they are doing a good job in Jolarus.

The court heard arguments in the case today, just hours after our glorious 3 goals to 1 victory against Felix. I was summoned to the court immediately following the conclusion of this match. They asked my opinion regarding Steven Smith and I told them the truth. He is a coward and a definite flight risk. Based upon my recommendation, Keronama police offered to help escort him to Jolarus. I went, leaving the National Soccer Team in my assistant Massimiliano's capable hands. Following our arrival in New Jerusalem, I have heard from a reliable source, local police monitored Steven Smith to ensure that he did not attempt to flee to another Republic. When the sun rose, we reported to the court for the trial, where a jury was already chosen.

An emotional Nova Hellstrom took the stand, as she told the good Christian men of the jury about all the emotional distress that Steven Smith had caused for her. Nova informed them that she was a good Christian girl and talked about how she was saving herself for marriage to the right man. She also brought up all of the defamatory and disrespectful things that Smith had said about our Federation and our National Soccer Team. While the Jolarians are, for the most part, not soccer fans, they are still patriotic Republicans and certainly don't appreciate foreigners disrespecting our Federation. By the time Nova finished her opening statement, their minds were already made up. When I corroborated Nova's story and confirmed that I have remained faithful to my wife and never done anything improper with the beautiful young lady, his fate was sealed.

By an 11 to 1 margin, the men of the jury ruled in favor of Nova Hellstrom. Steven Smith really should have thought twice before he impugned the virtue of a beautiful young Christian girl. Those Christian men will do just about anything to protect the honor of a virtuous Christian young lady. The Judge ordered Smith to pay a fine of a million Thalers within 36 hours. He has yet to do so. Should he fail to pay the fine in time, he will serve 5 years in prison. Let this be a lesson to all to refrain from saying defamatory things. If you don't, you might end up serving 5 years in prison in a Republic run by the Christians.

This great victory in the courtroom came less than 24 hours after a great victory on the pitch for the forces of civility. The Felix Trolls fell behind early, as Ayub Sandstrom found Kieran Hancock on a corner just 3 minutes into the match. Kieran put his head on it and scored easily. Ji Iseul Kwan or whatever his unpronounceable name is, who looks sort of a Taiyouese, got himself red-carded for a vicious foul on Jens Koch. I pulled a clearly limping Jens out of the match and went with Jan Beranek instead. Beranek would make Felix pay just after halftime, as he scored from long range to put us up 2 goals to nil. Some Troll scored a goal, but it really doesn't matter what his name is. However, their false hopes were soon extinguished after Kyle set up the clinching goal by Faredin.

All said, it was a great couple of days for the FFR. Yesterday, the Trolls finally got their comeuppance on the pitch. Today, their loud-mouthed reporter finally found out that there are consequences to writing defamatory things. However, we must not celebrate just yet. Qazox awaits at Podvez Field. While Mario Podvez was not much of a soccer fan, he was a patriotic Republican who believed, as well he should have, that he lived in the best nation in the multiverse. We're going to do him proud by defeating Qazox and moving one step closer to victory. I was just informed that Jens has been medically cleared, so we are healthy and we are ready as we go into our third match of the Cup of Harmony.

Finally, I want to address the comments of some clown named Lumakoko Kurakaka Pied from the Maklohi Vai press. He may think that our draw against Albaie, a much lower ranked nation, was a surprise and may be dismissive of us, but may I remind him that we are the highest ranked BoF 52 participant that is competing in either the Cup of Harmony or the World Cup Finals? May I also point out that Albaie are ranked around 50 spots behind us in the latest rankings by the prestigious KPB? Yet, you insist upon referring to pretending that the Trolls are a "team on the rise," rather than a one-hit wonder fluke. We are the reigning Di Bradini Cup champions and we will soon be the dominant soccer team in the multiverse. Your country has lost both of your Cup of Harmony matches so far, so maybe your press should be focused on that, rather than trying to run down a Cup of Harmony co-host.

Rule Theriault is the manager for the FFR's National Soccer Team. He was the manager of Petrograd United. After a disappointing end to his tenure there, he entered a team in the 27th Di Bradini Cup on behalf of the Federation of Free Republics. His mostly unheralded team finished 2nd in that competition, losing to the Equestrian States in the final. He led the National Soccer Team to a 17th place finish in the 52nd Baptism of Fire and a 6th place finish in Group 20 during World Cup qualifying. In the Cup of Harmony, the National Soccer Team overcame having to play in the Equestrian States and came back to win their final 2 matches, including a shocking victory over Jeru FC, one of the true powers of international soccer. In the 28th Di Bradini Cup, he led the FFR right back to the finals, this time finishing on the right note. The Free Republics finished 3rd in their second World Cup qualifying attempt. With the Cup of Harmony taking place in the Free Republics this year, Theriault intends to win it.

OOC: Nothing in this RP should be interpreted OOCly. The parts involving Steven Smith were discussed via TG with Felix a few days ago.

by **New Sideburn** » Mon Oct 07, 2013 1:22 pm

Everything was bright.
Dazed, Henry attempted to shield his eyes and look up.
A glamorously scarred woman with piercing green eyes and a generally deshabille look was sat languidly on an expensive-looking throne. She was flanked by bodyguards armed with efficient-looking flamethrowers. Terracotta banners fluttered behind her.
"Welcome to the real Vermillion," she said. Oddly, she spoke wiht a thick Russian accent. Her black leather jacket and jeans belied her obvious wealth, though her garish gold pistol looked very much the part. She was around 5'7", thickset like an amateur heavyweight boxer and didn't look like she was yet in her thirties.
"Who-"
"My name," said the probable criminal lord, "is not important."
"Oh."
"So I will tell you. I am Nikita Rasputin. Leader of the Union."
There was only think Henry could say. "I've heard of Union enforcers, but this is ridiculous!"
Nikita paused. "Quite," she said, stiffly. "The Union is... a benign order of privateers, entrepreneurs, and..." She waved a hand vaguely.
"Other, similar euphemisms?" suggested Henry.
"Quite so. But I tire of this basement - follow me to my room, I think. Yes, come!"

To Henry's relief, the guards did not follow, and the two were left alone in the elevator. The ex-President blinked slowly, trying to remember something.
"I've... seen you before, haven't I?" he hazarded.
"Most likely. I am a civic-minded woman, and like to keep a public presence."
The floor clicked over to 8.
"Why did you save me?"
Nikita sighed. "I owe Gethin Ramsey a great debt."
"What, did he... save your life?"
"No, he's just good at poker."
"Oh."
"Anyway, I don't like this Garrick business either. Corrupting the police, eliminating the competition... who does he think he is, me? I hate it when glorified accountants get above their station."
Henry nodded, fascinated. The floor clicked over to 22.
Henry tried to break the silence. "Have you met Gethin's wife? Big girl, former model? Distinctly May-December look?"
"Oh, yes. Lovely woman."
"Yeah."
Another pause. The floor clicked to 29.
"Of course, I'm not just doing this all for you without expecting something in return," Nikita purred.
Henry shivered. "Anything, Ms. Rasputin."
"Please, call me Niki. But ... it would greatly benefit the Union, I think, if my distant cousin, Kyle Towers, were made captain for the national team."
"T-towers?" Henry couldn't keep the panic from his voice. Kyle Towers was 34, played for a recently-relegated club and was notorious for bad positioning, wasteful shots and tackling too dirty even by Sideburn's standards.
Nikita laughed, deep and rich. "A joke, Henry! Relax. Ah, Floor 37!" She cleared her throat. "We have arrived."

by **Albaie** » Mon Oct 07, 2013 2:29 pm

" What the fuck was that William ! " Deberen roared at his captain who was sat there in visible pain. " Huh don't have an explanation or are you just being a fucking pussy " Deberen carried on screaming at the man who looked on the verge of tears.
" Oi boss lay up " Erentsen shouted from down the other end of the dressing room and Deberen turned in a flurry of anger his fists clenched tight.
" You shut up or i'll show you how a goalkeeper should really be making saves ! " He screamed and Erentsen backed down his face going red with embarrassment.
" Boss I don't know what happened I just couldn't move. " William gasped and he tried to stand up then fell down clutching his side screaming in pain. Deberen quickly gestured to his physios and Anna Hefton ran forwards carefully lifting up Williams shirt.
" Shit ! " She exclaimed and many of the players exclaimed curses as they looked at the horrific bruising spread across Williams stomach and the bruise above his knee which was spreading across his whole thigh.
" That ain't fucking normal ! " One of the Werek brothers said loudly.
" Yuterluckinti ! " Queb exclaimed in his native language Advaria and roughly is translated to " The gods have cursed you foul one ! "
" Get me a priest and a good one " Deberen roared and his son Vincent scrambled out the door.
It was 15 minutes before the younger Vincent returned and in his company was Bishop Arthur Dubrackson a distant relative of William and a priest who was in the Free Republics with a bunch of priests to watch the football. The Bishop walked in and crossed himself when he saw William. " This is not natural " The Bishop muttered as he looked down at the body of the now passed out William having passed out when the team had tried to move him so they left him lying on the floor. The Bishop prodded the bruising and quickly recoiled crossing himself again as William twitched in his unconsciousness. " That is not good not good at all this feels like the work of witchcraft " Arthur said and every man and woman in the room crossed themselves except Queb who spat then jumped being the only non Catholic. " I will gather my other priests and we will take him to our chambers where we will see what we can do we might be able to find who did this but we may not it will take us a few days and William won't play for a few days maybe a few weeks depends on what we can do. " Bishop Arthur said then crossed himself and left the room and the men looked at the unconscious body of their captain and crossed themselves or fingered crosses and uttered prayers.

by **San Jose Guayabal** » Mon Oct 07, 2013 3:19 pm

The MD 2 speech from Milos Miljanic and some statements of Raul Bonilla, find it here:

Voice RP of SJG

by **Aslotten-Behtherborg sa Cesky** » Mon Oct 07, 2013 4:25 pm

OOC: Contains a bit of language and some PG-13 themes, but nothing graphic or scarring (I think).

William Čalrek sounds off again

by **Astograth** » Mon Oct 07, 2013 7:20 pm

Ibai Kiriano was uneasy. He knew it was totally his fault, but that didn't make the situation any easier to bear. Way down there on the pitch of La Plaza de Toros, Astograth were losing to San José Guayabal - and he was sat in this dreadful box next to Arizmande, who bit his nails and didn't talk much. Olibondeka needed them badly. Yauregialzo had stepped in for Arizmande and Pagagartundua for Kiriano, but now they lacked explosive speed going forwards and Ogara was overworked on the right wing. The clock was winding down. They were 1-0 down. Doing something - anything - was imperative.

Kiriano stood and leaned on the railing. The largely Falconian crowd was loud, if not particularly invested in these two teams. Atochako Amayera were making themselves felt at one end, while at the other the Guayabalenses sung a tune that was familiar but that Kiriano couldn't quite place. It was better than their attempts at chanting faux-Astograthian, at least. They were dressed mainly in white, which was odd considering the bright green of their shirts; it had forced Astograth to themselves come out in all-white. San José Guayabal was, of course, supplied by Barrengeka, but the adjacent box was full of Barrengeka invitees and they weren't exactly cheering for the Esportivans.

Alberro recovered the ball after William Maldonado kicked it too far and quickly passed to Benitzaizin, who drew cheers and applause when he sent Jairo Henríquez the wrong way, "literally broke his waist" as the Guayabalenses would say. The Echegoyan FC captain advanced and sent it down the left wing for an observant Oskarbi Churin to pick up. He advanced on the box, the defenders choosing to wait for the midfield to fall back. Kiriano was holding his breath, tense on the railing. Arizmande was frozen, eyes wide, teeth clamped on his index finger.

Too slow. Passarelli lunged with Churin about to shoot, the reaction came too late, Simioli was there to clear.

A cheer went up at one end, a cry of anger at the other and a much louder cry of general disbelief from the neutrals. Kiriano slammed his palm on the railing, kicked at its base, let out a string of expletives and did it all again when he saw the replay on the box's TV set. Arizmande just stared, one hand on his forehead, slowly blowing out air from his mouth. Neither of them wanted to say it. That they were playing like shit. That it was a bloody embarrassment. That the annoying upstarts of San José Guayabal were beating them and only six minutes were left.

Those six minutes were not even exciting. SJG were happy to keep the ball in their own half, passing backwards and backwards and forwards only when there was no more backwards to go. Churin and Pagagartundua were hounded about, mocked by the players and their crowd. Until one of them slipped.

Then Churin took the ball and passed to Pagagartundua, who intended to slip between two defenders but was caught by them both inside the box. The forward fell, the Astograthians roared, Kiriano jumped up from his seat and laid a verbal smackdown on the mothers of the Guayabalense defenders - the referee was spared from his rage only once the whistle went and he pointed straight to the spot.

It was a veritable miracle that neither the ones causing the foul nor any of the dissenters received at least a yellow card, but that was the least of the Astograthians' worries. They were jubilant. They had a penalty! A single point was not as good as three, but it was infinitely better than none.

They were jubilant. Kiriano was too, except he was the designated penalty-taker. This was his goal, goddammit. This and maybe another goal he would've scored or assisted, and Arizmande would've easily prevented the Guayabelense goal in the first place... if it weren't for those aggressive red cards against Jeruselem they could've won comfortably.

So Kiriano could only watch as Eriz Bakaikoa - the Astograthian Who Missed in that one Ides of March Cup, the Astograthian who was more Polarian than anything - set down the ball on the spot and step back, the TV closeup showing steel in his eyes.

Bakaikoa didn't miss. Kiriano didn't celebrate beyond a quick clenching of his fist and a growl. The scorer picked up the ball and grimly took it back to the centre, taking a moment only to kiss the badge on his chest. They were unlikely to get the winner in aggregate time. They'd dropped two points. They'd lost this battle. But seeing the suffering in the eyes of the Guayabalenses was enough for now. Pairatzen zaudete, lagunak?

by **Welsh Cowboy** » Mon Oct 07, 2013 7:39 pm

The Rebel Without a Target: Part Two

Jack had slept well last night, and he'd calmed down significantly. He realized how stupid he'd been, thinking that his firing was anything more than a cold, hard reality of economics. And even sillier, he'd wanted to exact revenge, hurting people who had no more connection to his firing than his baby Julian had a connection to aliens. Now he laughed at such idiocy. He was happier this morning, as he sipped his coffee slowly and warily watched Greta and Julian play in the living room.

It wasn't that he was resigned to his unemployment. Oh no. In fact, with a clearer head, he'd concocted a better, more logical plan, instead of the foolhardy rambling of yesterday. The plan began to formulate even more in his head, and he began to appreciate how brilliant it was even more. This was the proper response, an action justified completely by his pain, his discomfort at the hands of economics and other such academic matters.

He took another sip of coffee, and he began to laugh, the coffee spilling all over his green polo shirt and down onto his khaki shorts. He didn't seem to notice how much money he'd probably wasted, for his mind was elsewhere, soaring above his kitchen, leaving the mundane cares of daily life behind.

For tonight, he wouldn't be just another unemployed accountant.

He'd be famous.

And so it was that Jack Mortermann found himself, just hours later, sitting at a small coffee shop at the corner of Louis and Bannister Streets, in downtown Humdeia. He was familiar with this coffee shop, and as a result, the surrounding area of Humdeia, a city which seemed to be full of contradictions: urban one block, suburban the next, with a tattoo parlor right next to a conservative Baptist church, and bankers in suits and ties mingling with adolescents in ripped jeans and baseball caps. Jack knew that this coffee shop, Kingell's, was known as a hip, youth-infused place, and he had picked it for this reason also; he wanted to have access to youngsters, with their cell phone cameras and also their open minds, minds open to disrespect of authority and lawbreaking.

It was just after 9:15 in the morning, and on most days, Jack thought, he'd already be at his desk, going over the recent company payroll or report, plugging in numbers, punching out long letters to executives, explaining the state of such-and-such an account, or calling the company's bank, to see what options it had in regards to its various accounts and investments with them. Or perhaps he would have already taken a break and called home, to check on Greta and Julian, making sure they were alright, and getting to hear Julian giggle and cackle in the background as he bounced on his mother's lap.

He had deliberately not told Greta where he was going or what he was doing. She would have been too scared and might have even called the police. He couldn't have that, for tonight, when Greta looked at him, she'd been looking at a famous, well-known citizen, one who would receive interview requests from every news outlet in the nation, or maybe even internationally, since surely what he was about to do was rare?

But regardless, he'd have to go ahead with it.

And so it was that about ten minutes later, he was standing on the sidewalk, nervously tapping his foot, trying to push himself into finally completing the act and therefore proving to himself and the world that he could do it. He had already been out here for two or three minutes with rapidly-rising nervousness welling up from deep within his soul. Now, he thought, is not the time for cold feet. He must just do it.

The traffic lights shifted, and so Jack calmly walked out to the center of the road; he could already see the quizzical looks of some of the motorists halted as he pulled from within his pocket a flag from German American States, and from the opposite pocket, a cigarette lighter that he'd purchased from a drugstore just down the street. If the motorists thought he was strange now, then all they need do was wait.

For as the lighter touched the fabric of the flag, acquired last night at a sports store just down the road from Jack's home, which had of course been stocked to the brim with goods for Welsh Cowboy's CoH match against GAS, the whole material began to erupt in flames, prompting Jack to drop the flag to the ground, to attempt to keep his vulnerable hands from being burned, since this act wasn't designed to hurt him, or in reality, anybody.

Jack now moved onto the next phase of his plan, and he sat down on the ground, inches in front of the still burning flag, noticing that the cross traffic in the intersection had now ground to a halt as curious citizens stretched to see what was going on with the burning flag and the odd man just peacefully sitting on the ground. One had already pulled out his phone and begun to film, bringing much happiness to Jack. This was what he'd hoped for, what he'd done this act of defiance and anger, truly, for. The fame. The attention.

On the ground, hearing some disturbance in the cars behind him, who were perhaps worried about flames so close to their vehicles, Jack pulled from his shirt pocket a message, and began screaming it aloud:

WE CANNOT ALLOW OUR FAMILIES TO BE ENSLAVED! DOWN WITH SLAVERY, DOWN WITH IMPERIALISM!

He repeated it over and over again, and then once more. It had seemed so original in his mind earlier, when he'd composed it. It encompassed many angles of complaint that might attract attention. He was portraying Welsh Cowboy government and society as oppressive both domestically and internationally, and he knew that people everywhere could sympathize with the injustices he'd suffered at the hands of capitalism and the relatively conservative Welsh Cowboy form of government. Or at least he hoped, because in fact, he had always considered himself a staunch capitalist. But that was lost on him now.

He had said it dozens of times, and he'd probably been in the street for two or three minutes, with traffic having come completely to a standstill, when he felt himself being lifted up from behind. The paper slipped from his grasp as his captor bent his arms awkwardly, causing him to cry out in pain. He tried to turn around and see who dared manhandle him like this, but the aggressor shoved his face the other way, keeping him anonymous.

"The fire's out!" cried someone from behind Jack, and he groaned. It was all over.

He'd just have to wait for the police.

So here he was, in the back of a Humdeia Police cruiser, his hands cuffed behind his back, and already he was beginning to regret this protest, or whatever it was. The cuffs dug into his hands, and the seat in the back of the car was far from exquisite, instead composed of harsh, unforgiving plastic. He was beginning to doubt whether this was worth whatever fame he'd gained from his actions.

He turned around as best he could, and he could see one of the officers who had arrested him picking up evidence from the scene, including the burnt scraps of the GAS flag, and what looked like the scrap of paper with his protest's message on it. The other one, a man who was at least 6'5", with curly red hair and piercing blue eyes, was talking to several motorists who had witnessed the incident; he was writing their words dutifully in the notebook all cops apparently carried in their pockets.

As Jack watched, another police vehicle rolled up to the site, this one a minivan with "HPD EVIDENCE SQUAD" written on the side in the golden letters representative of the Humdeia Police's fleet. A short female officer and a taller male officer hopped out of the van, and went over to talk with the patrolman who was collecting the flag scraps and other evidence; after a few seconds, they relieved him of his duties.

All this was funny to Jack; here he was, Jack Mortermann, a simple accountant who just days earlier had been an absolute nobody, now warranted two vehicles from the Humdeia Police, purely because of him. Surely this protest would be reported, would be spread on the Internet, would draw sympathy nationwide and around the international community. Sure, people in German American States might look at his actions and frown, but what was one nation when he could become famous through dozens of others.

Far from his thoughts at this moment were Great, his wife, and baby Julian, who were still at home, unsure exactly where their father or husband was, but completely unaware that he'd just been arrested.

The two responding officers returned to the car, took a quick look at Jack, started the engine, and sped off into Humdeia traffic, taking Jack Mortermann to jail.

by **San Jose Guayabal** » Mon Oct 07, 2013 8:16 pm

Fun facts about SJG, Part 1

It may be rare, but it's funny that the safest thing that will speak to our rivals, here is a brief compilation of data about SJG, all are curious and funny.

1 - In SJG , it has a strange contradiction when face gestures , moving his face to the sides , they say yes, instead of saying no. and vice versa when it shakes his head up and down.

2 - Something very strange is that SJG , our roads have no speed limits but at the time they're the safest in all Esportiva .

3 - rather than allow it to be fan any team in sports, SJG , the government banishes CD fans FAS to closed cities as " Fasista Vigilante" ( literally fasistas cowards ) or to Santa Ana ( Nicknamed the branch of hell) .

4 - In a game of CoH 58, Milos Miljanic , SJG coach said a few compliments to the coach as Jeruselem " That skin ", " That woman" " Come mommy , I want to hug you"

5 - To the delight of Jeruselem and its inhabitants, on national holidays , can see the " cachiporristas " or rather Cheerleaders parading through the streets , the " cahiporristas " are women who march in the streets to attract the public eye and a touch of sensuality and striking the event.

6 - The Guayabalense language is a dialect of Russian and Spanish language .

7 - If SJG play at home , before and after games is common to see people resting in the gutters or sidewalks because the hangover contracted for being drunk .

8 - The drunks on the sidewalk , usually are taken to public bedroom while going a hangover.

9 - In the football matches in SJG , very often that fans shout " And you will see , we are like the motherf****** of ( Nation name) "

10 - It is very common see people drunk at SJG starring fights, the drunken brawls is a very popular sport in SJG .

by **Paradystopia** » Tue Oct 08, 2013 2:40 am

Bandwagoning ... sort of

It's an audio commentary by Robert Vhoyse.

by **Jeruselem** » Tue Oct 08, 2013 5:48 am

Jeruselem Government News

Funny money in Jeruselem

Recently some tourists in Jeruselem have tried to unload some strange currency at local money exchanges, but got refused any service because the clerk had no idea what it was. It turns out the currency was the Paradystopi Chunk, the currency of Paradystopia. Unfortunately in Jeruselem the Chunk is pretty worthless, with exchanges refusing to take the smaller denominations because no one wants them in the end.

The Jeruselem shekel is highly regarded as it is backed by Jeruselem's gold reserves and Jeruselemites are notorious gold hoarders. The chunk, it seems is wanted by no one because people are dubious about currency with seven zeros in the denomination.

One company has taken to rebirthing the Chunk as play money for kids in funny money kids sets. It is a pretty banknote and the designs are attractive so kids love them but know they aren't worth anything in the real world.

The son of Princess Melody Song Dallas, Matthew David Dallas has taken to collecting Chunks and aims to complete his set of current series.

Cup of Harmony 58 [Everything Thread]

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