World Cup 77 - Roleplay Thread

[Cosneolta]

Cosneolta Sports Rarely
World Cup Qualification Round-Up

For the small nation of Cosneolta, entering a big tournament would be a rather daunting task, considering they only have one domestic football team and one stadium capable of holding international football. You would think that they would flounder on the World stage and be left languishing at the lower portions of the table. Their football culture has been heavily influenced by Mercedini (as is a lot of things) and many players have taken the trip to Mercedini to play weekly domestic football rather than stay in Cosneolta and play Sunday League week after week. Cosneolta are now playing against the big boys in a group that includes Qasden, Tumbra, Samarland, Devonta and Valladares. Cosneolta has currently played four games and is quickly approaching the first half of the first legs. They haven't managed to play with the big boys just yet (losing to Tumbra and Qasden) but they have managed to pick up points against Gumusservi and Nume, with the latter being an historic 1-0 away win.

Staring with the first match against Tumbra, Cosneolta were defiant and rather unlucky to concede the lone goal of the game. The team weren't expecting much from the game but they came away with some hope that they could cause a couple of shocks and hold some of the larger teams to a draw and maybe pick up wins against the contestable matches.

Cosneolta picked up their first point of the match with a goalless draw against Gumusservi in a match where both teams were complacent with the point. The game suited Cosneolta from a defensive point of view with few chances being shared between the teams. The small crowd in the small stadium celebrated as the small nation picked up their first World Cup Qualification points ever!

The team in blue then travelled to Qasden where they were comprehensively beaten 3-0 against a confident Qasden side who could be challenging for a World Cup spot in only their second cycle as a side. Frustration came from the striker's coach from Cosneolta who stressed that his team hadn't scored a single goal at the tournament yet. Prompting questions from many within the inner circle of the Cosneoltan FA regarding the nation's place in international football.

Finally, and to the jubilation of the fans and us here as Cosneolta Sports Rarely. The boys in blue and white picked up their first ever win at any World Cup stage with a narrow 1-0 over Nume. The celebration was intensified as the win came away from home, which hinted at a possible second win in the return leg. The three-points hoisted Cosneolta up to 7th in the table, which is roughly where the pundits and fans wanted them to come in a ideal situation. History was made, and we hope we could supply a lot more in the coming matches and cycles.

So there we have it, a brief round-up of all the matches Cosneolta have played thus far in the World Cup Qualfiers. The coaching staff have suggested that a direct qualification in their very first cycle seems rather unrealistic and are therefore aiming for the Cup of Harmony where the team can pick up more KPB points to shoot them up the rankings. We will back sometime in the future to give you another round up of matches. For now, we hope you all enjoy your day and we hope you have your fingers crossed for more good results and a Cup of Harmony invitation!

[Nephara]

Thirty years ago. When the World Cup was a thing that happened far away, to other countries. And Reinhard Shale was a diligent, muscular right winger for Maximum Rovers.
It was the curtain-raiser in this stadium. The Gauntlet, of AFC Treason. Freshly promoted, the Rovers were just thinking of the 50 points. A lot of seats. The place was packed. Treason were one of the best sides of the time, though they weren't as dominant as they were today - this was back in the days where the likes of Mick Byram, long faded into obscurity now, was a name to be feared.
"When it's a battle, you fucking battle!"
The voice of his manager at the time, the late Johanna Samson. In her early 60s, husky of voice and body, and a relentless chain-smoker. But she knew her players, and she knew her tactics. A formative influence.

The Gauntlet had held firm, thirty years on. Now it was bouncing with green shirts ready for a World Cup qualifier. Why hadn't Nephara been among the first to jump at the thought of international competition? Shale knew they'd been ready for it.
But they'd made such, such strides. Shale knew that back in the day, no Nepharim playing was fit to wash the boots of the players he commanded here. The thought made him a little giddy.
And they were 2-1 down against Revolutionary Nordskania, with something close to a full-strength side. A hospital pass from the stand-in Rafford to the Quebecois-origin Dragovic-Courtial had seen the Barons take the lead within four minutes, and a crisp strike from just outside the box courtesy of Afanasyev put the crowd decidedly on edge.
Two down, twenty-three minutes in. He bellowed at his squad, most of which was caught by the microphones, and the squad tightened up. They got together. They were without Katskalidis, a natural leader, but Tanith Rainsford was there to bang heads together. They tightened up and got what they needed in the 41st minute - Penumbra Amokachi, a loose ball in the box, a narrow angle. Slipped inside Grekov's near post.
Hope.

"Lads, we just got the shit kicked out of us." 26-year old Shale collapsed on a bench, mopped his brow with a shirt. He meant it literally and figuratively. In his first Premiership season... well, he was starting to worry he mightn't be up to the cut.
Others followed. The other winger, Stefans, was bleeding from a cut above his eye. Former Treason man Dochart was booed every time he'd reached the ball. And it was thanks to a minor miracle, and Caspar Dyer's form between the posts, that they were just 1-0 down.
"Bullshit," snapped Samson, and launched into the most inspirational speech Shale had ever heard, one he would never forget. She touched upon themes of fraternity, the sense of responsibility that they had for their community, of the fans packed in to watch them - people were relying on them, and the last thing they needed was for them to fold at a time like this.

So he'd cribbed it unapologetically thirty years later and hoped for the best.

On the day, Dochart had scuffed home an ugly and undeserved equaliser. The Cormorants, by contrast, clicked back into gear as soon as they hit the pitch again. The domination in the centre of the park was restored, thanks largely to Rainsford, and an utter thunderbastard from just outside the box courtesy of Konrad Gosforth levelled the scores. Nobody had put pressure on them. He'd made them pay. The crowd were buoyant again. They could get another goal, couldn't they? Surely. They launched back into their songs, the team's twelfth man, dragging them over the line.
A luxury past-Shale hadn't had. Most of the stadium wanted to kill his team. Arguably him personally, after he'd been, yes, offside when he set up Dochart's goal. But now he could put a more personal strand on it. He found his opportunity in the 73rd minute. Game momentum shifting a little. The Stags just beginning to tire, and then they overstretched, a powerful thumping diagonal clearance from the centre-half Deuter, and Shale was on the end of it, he'd been so fast then, and cut inside, muscled away whoever was tugging on his collar and powered a shot past the goalkeeper...
It flattered Shale to think in hindsight he was something of a poor man's Adnan Szalai that day.

But today, he didn't have the poor man's Adnan Szalai. He had the actual Adnan Szalai. And 77 minutes in, the crowd starting to get restless again as they found Grekov in fine form between the posts, the actual Adnan Szalai decided he wanted to score.
So had the Barons. That was fine. They'd come close a few times but Konoval and Scharner were unrecognisable from their first-half jitters, and here was Sindler's cross for Yoshida or perhaps the lurking Vlasenko... but there was Stoli Tsattalios. And he saw Szalai, acres of space, Sindler not back quickly enough, the back three left exposed, and he rifled the ball expertly across. Szalai rocketed after it. He knocked the ball past the substitute, Anishin, bombed clear, bombed free, the fresh legs of Estrella Hawke were open but went ignored. Szalai went for it himself. As he always preferred to.
Just outside the box. Top corner of the net.

Shale smiled.

Thirty years ago, Shale had fallen awkwardly after contesting a header. Foot had caught in a pot-hole. That was just how Nepharim pitches were back in those times.
And, yeah, that was his MCL gone. His second of five serious knee injuries over the course of his career, and one of the milder ones. The Rovers did alright early with that momentum and rallied respectably late on... but finished 21st. Shale himself would hang up his boots prematurely, forced into it by those injuries, forced... into coaching. The Rovers would return to the top flight. They'd become a fixture. And then Treason, where this ground would become a fortress - he was still well-loved in these parts - en route to a title, then to Buyan, then back to Crisisbless, to become the first manager to win two titles with different teams in the modern era, and now... here.
He wasn't worried about Szalai, or this season. The points were secured when Amokachi came off for the burliness of Chilmark in the centre of the park, the supply down the centre was cut off, Hawke almost netted on the break in injury time, and they had their win.
And as for his knees? Well, there were no potholes anymore, were there?

[Spaam]

Part 4

Seated in the demountable that served as a portable office, Mela Lunaan sat glaring at the older man opposite her. A young archaeologist with the University of Paatukar, she had developed her reputation an expert on ancient machinery - an expertise that her boss, Professor Torbanise, had abused. This entire mission was clouded in secrecy and authorised by the highest power in Spaam, Queen Oruzaadov herself. Until recently, she had had no idea why an obscene amount of money had been put into an archaeological expedition in a nation that had never before paid much notice in archaeology. Now that she had glimpsed what the great machine back in the cavern could do, she had started to understand, and had started to become very concerned.

“How in Zhogu could such a machine exist?” she finally demanded.

The professor was placid as he reclined comfortably in his chair on the other side of the desk. “I can understand how you feel, my dear…”

“Don’t ‘my dear’ me, Professor,” Mela retorted.

“My apologies, Ms. Lunaan,” replied the professor indulgently. “But I can empathise with how you feel. In your field, you have spent your entire life trying to understand how everything works. Clockwork counting machines, mechanical astrolabes, ancient robots… Everything you have come across can be broken down, either fixed or duplicated, and understood. Now you have come across something that is beyond your ken, and in all likelihood, of anyone living today.”

“But this is impossible!” Mela raised her hands in the air. “Nothing exists that could do this, and certainly not in this manner! Stone, metal, marble… you can make these materials do a lot of things, but not even a fraction towards what happened the other week. And even if it did, why here? We didn’t even exist as a nation here a hundred years ago!”

The professor could see the countless questions trying to burst from his protege’s lips. “I’ll try to give you as many answers as quickly as possible, but to tell you everything will take much longer.” He took a breath before continuing. “I’ll answer your second question first. Hundreds of years ago, the power of a shared interest was realised, and the nation was brought together in the pursuit of the football World Cup. While this was no surprise, some very smart people discovered that the power of propaganda to be used to improve the performance of our football team. So they created a machine, but they couldn’t risk it being discovered, so they found a faraway land to build it.”

“And this is that land?” Mela replied in surprise.

“Indeed! The choice of this place to house the refugees from the Hundred Year War was no accident, as we have a very long, albeit secret, relationship with these islands. This cavern has been known since ancient times, but its location was unknown to most, so it was the perfect location.” The professor poured himself a glass of water, then continued his story. “They built the machine, and it was an incredible success, leading us to the final of the thirteenth World Cup. For some reason though, its power started to wane after that, and we never reached the heights of those early years. Eventually, this site was given up, and eventually, forgotten.”

“That explains much of what I found here. But it still doesn’t address my more important question: how could this possibly work? What exactly does it do?” Mela’s curiosity was winning out, but her tone was still that of wariness.

The professor seemed unaware, and continued with his exposition. “Well, as you know, propaganda is key here. Hundreds of years ago, the machine created newspapers, of varying quality, and they spread throughout the world. The propaganda gave our football team an advantage, and we became one of the top footballing nations in the world. The how is beyond us, but as was once said, technology sufficiently advanced is indistinguishable from magic. Now, with more modern communication technologies, it seems that its effect is more widespread, but historically, we relied on newspapers for most of our communication.”

“I’m still having trouble believing that it can actually improve our football team though.” Mela shook her head. “Even if this super-advanced technology could create propaganda, how could it help us kick balls on grass?”

“Check your phone. I believe we have just finished a game.” The professor gestured towards the mobile phone sitting on the table.

Mela opened up, and looked up the latest sport scores.

Matchday 4 Results SPAAM 3-1 NAGORE (Elzeros 42’ Rose 69’ Sehelin 75’) (Conway 85’) Full match stats…

The young woman put down the phone. “This is… impossible.”

---

For those unaware of the history…

Part 6

[Juvencus]

Martell saves the day! Juvencus get the point!


Juven players celebrate the equaliser

Eastfield Lodge XI:
GK:Korbin Harvey
CB:Emely Towers
CB:Lucas Bacon
RB:Abdur Rehman
LB:Darlene Finn
CM:Amitee Abdalla
RM:Ali Asif
LM:Tirs Rathun
LAM:The doctor
RAM:Kenyon Lacroix
CF:Marlon Rowlinson

Juvencus XI:
GK: Naldo Zappa
CB:Dudu Madeiros
CB:Maximilliano Pissetti
CB:Nicolò Bassi
CDM:Gian Landi
CDM:Filipe Rodrigues
RM:Hugo Grec
LM:Angelino Alberighi
LF:Joaquim Martell
RF:Demetro Laterza
CF:Rodolfo Gallo

The Juven players showed big determination against the Eastfield Lodge players, despite being 1-0 for most of the game as well as being dominated throughout most of the game with Eastefield Lodge players literally sieging the Juven defence, which was able to keep it 1-0 until Joaquim Martell was able to score in the 87th minute to settle things down.

The first half started with Eastfield Lodge on possession, Ali Asif's pure class was visible as soon as he found Rowlinson all alone in the box, but his shot was luckily saved by Zappa to a corner. Even more luckily, the Eastfield offence wasn't able to capitalise on that one too, with Lacroix's header going wide. As soon as Juvencus found some space, counter attack commenced, Grec found Laterza free and the latter shot the ball strongly but to no use since it hit the crossbar and then it got wide. Eastfield kept going on with their dominant play and they were finally able to score. Tirs Rathun this time, found Rowlinson all alone and he just sent the ball through for the latter to chip it over Zappa for the opener. It wasn't enough for the Eastfield squad though as they kept pushing forwards with exceptional playmaking by Asif and Rathun but Rowlinson wasn't able to extend the difference missing 2 one on one situations with one ending on the top post and the other on Zappa's hands. Int he end of the first half, Laterza was able to send the through ball to Gallo with Gallo sending it wide.

The second half started with a determined to equalise Juvencus, Hugo Grec crossed it to Martell but Martell was unable to score this once just missing the left side post by an inch or two. But a determined Juvencus side wasn't able to push forwards for 20 more minutes on which Eastfield players tried to find space to send the through ball or cross it to their frontline but sadly, a strong Juven defence was enough to stand up as a wall for them. The most important Eastfield chance throught the half was Lacroix's cross which ended up as a shot due to the curve was saved by a great Zappa leap. At the 71st minute, Juven players got their momentum up after getting possession of the ball, Gian Landi crossed it to Grec who was able to find Gallo but Gallo sent it wide once more. 17 minutes later, Martell dribbled through Lucas Bacon and saw himself at an one on one situation with Harvey, Martell seemed like he was going to curve the ball to the right but it curved to the left which confused the experienced Eastfield keeper and equalised. The final score was 1-1, which is quite satisfying give it was a match against a great squad. Next matchday is against Turori at Torona, should Juven players get more points from this, Juvencus shall get to higher spots and one step closer to World Cup Qualification spots.

Match mistakes:
Eastfield Lodge:The most dominant force of the game wasn't able to capitalise the many chances given to them. Despite the early lead and the amazing first half, the players slowed down during the second half and totally forgot to correct their mistakes while they could. The defence wasn't focusing enough during the end which ended with Martell scoring his 4th international goal this qualifiers.
Juvencus:Eastfield Lodge was much more dominant during the first half and conceding an early goal during the first half while also being followed by a bombardment of shots by the opposing side meant Juvencus wouldn't have many chances, but whenever they were given space, they'd waste it up like it was nothing.

Top golascorers this cycle's WCQ:
Joaquim Martell: 4 goals
Angelino Alberighi: 1 goal
Rodolfo Gallo: 1 goal
Oriol Vives: 1 goal

Top assistmakers this cycle's WCQ:
Angelino Alberighi: 1 assist
Joaquim Martell: 1 assist
Oriol Vives: 1 assist
Aleix Costa: 1 assist

Now featuring...TICKET SALES!!
You can find your tickets for the match against Turori at the stands in front of the stadium as well as juvenctickets.jue
At the cost of just 25 pesos you'll be able to see the game, food and drinks can be bought during the match measuring in prices 5-10 pesos.

[Kosovakia]

KOSOVAKIA, 6th place in the group!

Some random things #1

Player: Coach.. Coach..!
Coach: Yes what's going on?
Player: We are a bit late for the training...
Coach: Yaah i know.. We can do nothing about it.
Player: Well or last training was not going so well. Don't forget we play against one of the best teams in NS history
Coach: History?
Player: Yaah. Look at us, We are only the debuting team here (With a few others, Of course
Coach: I know. Is that what you want to know?!
Player: Sorry..
Coach: Look at us. We played against a few good teams, We have loss and won. 6 points are still an good result
Player: Yaah i know. But I think we can go to the next level.
Coach: What next level? We train as beast. *NEXT LEVEL*
Player: See it as an game. We need to play better and better.
Coach: Do you mean that I'm not an good coach for you guys.
Player: No, Absolutly not!
Coach: I still don't understand..
Player: Did you already know that this is one big Game show?
Coach: You mean NationStates.. That we are all fictional. but still think that we are interent heroes...
Player: Yes that to.... But after all we are great. Everyone is great here.
Coach: Pfff... was that everything where you wants to talk about?
Player: Yes.. we are late. Come on hurry up.
Coach: I don't take this serious anymore..
Player: So what..
Coach: Kosovakia is an growing team. We win against very good teams.
Player: But we don't make results as you know what i mean..
Coach: What results?
Player: Or best results are the quarter-finals in the Global Cup of Soccer
Coach: Yaah! Nice tournament..
Player: No it's not.. It's not even an big tournament. I only wants to play in Very big tournament
Coach: Not happy about the Global Cup of Soccer..
Player: Oke, I'm not serious about that.
Coach: I think we can easly advance to an mutch higher stage next time.
Player: World Cup Qualifiers is just an huge test for us.
Coach: Yaah that's why we have joined this qualifiers.
Player: Well we will see what will happen.
Coach: Ah we finaly by the stadium.
Player: We talk about this later coach.
Coach: Yes...

[Anglatia]

Hustlers United

Chapter Five: Underfellers

When the Explorers touched down in Mjasa, Kisote, for one of their tune up matches leading into the World Cup cycle, Hakki Ojala realized that he was indeed turning into one of the real stars of the game. Typically, the ones to get the big greetings would be Andros Diasakos, or Zahara Santana, or Hector Grier. The veteran players who had anchored the team during its first World Cup campaigns. Now, the attention was spreading to the younger players, and Hakki felt like a rock star as he pulled on his white and purple team issue jacket and followed the others off of the plane. The fans here hadn’t seen their favorite players live in over three years, and so they were naturally thrilled when they showed up to face Vas Zharkov’s best eleven.

“Hakki, can I get a photo?” shouted a teenage girl who was pushing her way through the crowd.

“Can you sign my shirt?” another fan asked, from the opposite direction. There were barriers keeping the fans from getting too close, but the area was still pretty tight and cramped.

“I came all the way from Jkerte to see you, can you gimme a picture for my efforts?” someone else asked. When Hakki looked in the direction of that fan, someone else, a young woman, pulled her shirt up as soon as he looked her way. He couldn’t help but grin at that, making his teammates chuckle. He’d always been single, but he had usually been too busy with his career to pay attention to girls. Now that he had already gotten paid, he was finally realizing the full benefits of stardom.

“You’re becoming quite the little rock star,” teased Emily Hakkarainen, speaking to him in their native Upper Valerian. “When am I going to get the same treatment? I’m on the squad too, and yet I don’t hear anyone shouting my name and asking for autographs. Do I have to win the Champions Cup like you for that to happen?”

“You don’t have to, but it helps,” chuckled Hakki. “It also helps to play for Real Azuris. I don’t think as many people knew my name before I went there… Now, everyone knows me for being the other Anglatian on their squad, along with Hector.”

While the others made their way forward, Hakki stopped to take plenty of pictures and sign plenty of shirts, photos, and footballs. A few others did the same, including Hector, Remy Ladipo(who had his own fanbase around here because of being born in Kisote), Costin Anghelescu, and Blaze Chrzanowska. Allie Vacek usually stopped to sign things, but she’d been distracted for the entire flight and she simply ignored the shouts for her to stop and take pictures, keeping her head down. She tried to keep a low profile by wearing an Underfell Storm cap and a pair of shades, but it was practically impossible for her to walk through an airport full of screaming fans without being recognized within a few seconds. “You okay?” Hakki asked, when he finally caught up with Allie. “You’re not upset about the video, are you?”

“Nah,” Allie shrugged, shaking her head. “Just some stuff that you wouldn’t know about. No offense,” she added, and that was when they reached the outside of the airport and the row of media members that were waiting. When Hakki and Allie stepped out of the building, the cameras began to noisily flash and the reporters jostled with each other for positioning that was closer to the players.

“Allie, what do you have to say about your off the pitch activities?” shouted one reporter, who was quite obviously from Ross based on his accent.

“What do you have to say to Dan Drysdale about his accusations that you aren’t a professional?” another one asked.

“Come on, let’s just ignore them,” Hakki stated, having a feeling that this was going to turn bad if Allie engaged them. But it was too late for that.

“Is there any truth to the rumors that your mother committed suicide because of the way you treated her?” one of the Ross reporters asked, and before Hakki could pull Allie away, she had jumped over the barrier and gotten into the man’s face.

“Go fuck yourself,” she told him, slapping his microphone out of his hand and stomping on it. He tried to put his hands up to protect himself, and Allie took that as a threat and threw a hard punch straight into his jaw. The reporter was rocked by the punch but managed to stay on his feet, but before he could recover, Allie pulled back and threw her hardest punch into his mouth with her other hand. “And mind your fucking business and stop trying to act like you know me and my family.”

She wasn’t done. Hakki was trying to climb over the barrier and pull her back, but she had dove to the ground to stand above the reporter like an MMA fighter standing over a downed opponent. She behaved the same way, too, delivering blows with her right hand while she held onto his collar with her left hand. “Allie, stop, back off!” shouted Hakki, restraining her right hand before she could throw another punch at the man’s face. He was already bleeding from the mouth and from both nostrils, in addition to having a cut on his cheek that was dripping blood onto the pavement. And this was the worst spot to get into a fight like this. There were cameras everywhere, and the entire thing had been recorded in HD by the other reporters.

“He crossed the line,” Allie said calmly, staggering backwards as Hakki pulled her up and kept his arm locked with hers. The cameras were still flashing, catching her glaring at the other journalists with a look of bloodthirst in her eyes. She still had some of the blood on her knuckles, and the cameras definitely caught that. “Let that be a lesson to the rest of you on asking stupid questions,” she added, staring down the cameras while Hakki pulled her away.

“I don’t care if he crossed the line, it’s never a good look to beat the shit out of somebody for asking a question,” Hakki said, as the two of them stepped back over the barrier and followed the rest of the team towards the busses that were waiting for them. “The guy you beat up was from Ross… That’s not going to help you reconcile with the media over there. Quite the opposite is true, you gave them some legitimate ammo for criticism. Before, all they could do was call you unprofessional and immature. Now, they can run headlines saying that you’re a violent thug-”

“Who the hell cares what the media says?” asked Allie, climbing onto the bus behind Hakki. “I don’t pay attention to that shit. And they’re already against me, it’s not going to hurt for them to have something else to bitch about. I felt like I had to send a message, and that seemed to work pretty well for that.”

“Yeah? Don’t get angry then when they get even more aggressive. The way to get the press off of your back is to ignore them and keep your head down, not to respond with violence. It’s never ended well for the few others who’ve taken the same path as you just did.”

“I never said I wanted them off of my back. I’m not the kind of person to run away from challenges,” said Allie, and then she sat down by the window near the back of the bus. “I stand by what I did… For better or worse.”

=====

On the night of their arrival in Kisote, four friends from Underfell decided to take some time off from usual team duties to stay in for the night and relax before the next day’s tough practices and the eventual match would come. They were, of course, Darren Harbin, Allie Vacek, Blaze Chrzanowska, and Ake Gustafsson. Ake and Darren both played in Underfell, while both Allie and Blaze had grown up there before moving abroad. It was when Allie was around her fellow Valerians, and Underfellers in specific, that she was the most relaxed and when she let her guard down. It wasn’t often that her guard was down and she opened up, but when it was, it was usually in the company of those from the same place as her.

“Can I ask you guys something personal?” she asked, as the four of them sat down on the largest couch in the hotel room and watched the news channel that was talking about the latest events out of Patierre. Apparently, there were more protests in the minor cities, while the regional capital city, Saint Rainier, increased security and cracked down on any protest or dissent. The Kisotan newscaster was describing the situation as the screen behind him showed a series of slides displaying the scenes from Syhaux and Alery compared to the ones from Saint Rainier. “I haven’t been able to get this question out of my head since we landed here. Maybe one of you can help me figure the answer out.”

“You’ve got my interest,” said Darren, raising an eyebrow. “What’s this question about, and how can we help you?”

“Love. It’s about love,” Allie said, taking a deep breath and staring straight ahead at the TV screen as she spoke. “And the question is, how far would you go for it? Would you sell out your values if you knew it was for true love? Would you trust someone again that hurt you in the past? And would you put yourself in danger by hanging with the wrong crowd, if the person that you were with was a part of that crowd?”

“I think that if you find real love, you do whatever you need to do to keep it,” answered Darren. “The chances of finding it aren't high, so if you manage to get it, you never let go. I'd go to the ends of the Earth and back if it was for someone that I truly loved, who felt the same way about me. And even if she didn't feel the same way, I would still do anything for her, in hopes that someday she'll realize how much I care for her. I wouldn't care about the past, and if she hurt me before. I wouldn't care about being in danger. If she returned my feelings and I could make her happy, everything would be well worth it.”

“Geez, I didn't know you were the romantic type,” Ake chuckled, rolling his eyes and smiling. “Uh, I can't say much about true love because I've never been the type to look for it. But I think if it really was true love, you'd be better off doing what you can to keep it. I mean, some people spend their entire lives searching the world for love, so if you happen to find it while you're still young, you must be really lucky. And you speak like someone that's already found it.”

“Nah, this is a purely hypothetical question,” Allie blurted out, her face turning red when Ake suggested that she had already found love. “I'm just curious. Sometimes I wonder about these things, and I just wanted to know what you all thought-”

“Whatever you say,” Darren replied, obviously not believing her. “There's obviously someone on your mind if you suddenly can't stop thinking about love now, when it was only a few months ago that you told me that you were never getting married or getting into a committed relationship. Why don’t you just tell us who the lucky guy is? Or the lucky girl, if that’s still your thing.”

“Guys, it’s obvious that she doesn’t want to tell us,” said Blaze, jumping in as Allie’s blush deepened. None of them had ever seen her this flustered because of relationship talk, but because of Allie’s moods earlier, Blaze decided that it wouldn’t be a good idea to press the subject. She’d open up soon enough if she wanted to talk about it. “But anyway, I don’t think love is an actual thing. Anyone who says that it is has deceived themselves. Humans just want pleasure, really. If someone says that they’re ‘in love’, what they really mean is that they benefit in some way from their relationship. That applies to both romantic and platonic love… And it’s the reason why so called ‘friends’ will leave you if the money dries up. Sorry to burst your bubble.”

“Why so bitter, Blaze?” asked Ake. “Just because you haven’t experienced love doesn’t mean that it doesn’t exist-”

“If love exists, then why am I going to be a single mother?” Blaze asked in reply, and that silenced the entire room. It was clear that in the last three years, she had grown from a wide eyed sixteen year old into a jaded adult who had experienced her fair share of trials, but there was just something about her reply that broke Allie’s heart. Blaze didn’t deserve this. She was only nineteen, but she was already looking at the hard reality of being a single parent and managing her career at the same time. “Maybe I’m too much of a cynic now,” she stated. Of course, nobody would blame her for being cynical. None of the others had been through as much as Blaze. “But I’m speaking from experience.”

She stood up and walked to the bathroom, which Allie assumed was because of her pregnancy related sickness. “Should I apologize?” asked Ake, surprised at his former teammate’s reaction to a quick comment like the one he had just made. “I didn’t know she was going to get offended like that.”

“No. Blaze will be Blaze,” Darren said. “Let her stomp off if she wants, it’s all for attention. I hate to say it so harshly, but it’s true. A lot of the things she does are for attention, from her relationship with Marco Saint Paul to the time when she tried to kill herself because she found out she’d be playing abroad.”

“Give her a break, Darren,” Allie said, forcefully. “Do you even know how much shit she’s been through? She came from the hardest part of Otavice before Underfell brought her in, she was the one to find her best friend’s body after she was executed by gangsters, those gangsters then tried to frame her for the crime and tried to kill her when that didn’t work out, and some people still believe that she murdered her best friend to win the love of Marco Saint Paul, who abandoned her less than a year later. She went through all of that, only to survive it and then find out that she’s going to be a single mom. How is that for attention?”

“I’m just saying that I don’t think it’s much of a coincidence that these things always happen around cameras,” shrugged Darren. A minute or two later, Blaze came back and sat down between Allie and Ake, returning with a lighter and a set of blunts. They would get in trouble if the coaches found out, and they all knew that, but then again, they were all Valerians; Valerians smoked, and that was just something that was culturally accepted. The same went for the races that descended from them, most notably the Nordskanians. “Hey, are you trying to get Allie in trouble? You know her manager back in Abanhfleft isn’t too happy about her… Habits with certain substances. You play in the same country, so I doubt you should be smoking either-”

“Darren, are you really complaining because I’m smoking? Didn’t you literally run a drug operation while you were with the Tempest?” Blaze asked, incredulously. “Honestly, I don’t give a damn anymore about what my manager says. Maybe if I get a drug suspension, I can get out of this shithole of a country before it gets invaded by my real country because of the Nordskania War.”

“If you hate playing in Abanhfleft so much, you shouldn’t have signed the damn contract when they sent you there,” Darren remarked. “It’s not enough to just wait out your contract and come back home after that?”

Blaze rolled her eyes, lighting the first blunt. “The invasion might happen before then, and what would happen then? Let’s just say it’s not a good place to be a Valerian nationalist, and I’m sick of playing in a politically hostile place where I can’t be open with anyone, not even my teammates. Nobody in Valeria would bat an eye at my politics, but over there… I feel like I have to shut up any time it comes up, to avoid saying something that’s going to make everyone turn on me.”

Allie finally spoke up, looking towards Blaze. “If you want to get out of Rosen, I can make some calls for you. My friend AJ Hara has a ton of connections with front offices in Redvale. If you want to go to any of those clubs, I think she can make it happen for you. I also have another friend, Skal Phillips, that’s connected with Janford City. He can set up a deal to send you to the Janford Roses, if that’s what you really want.”

“What I really want is Underfell. You know, the club that I played youth football for, that promised me that I was the future. I want it more than anything… I know I was born in Otavice, but Underfell was home and I really want nothing more than to go home,” Blaze sighed, starting to sound emotional.

“She’s about to cry, guys,” Darren stated, chuckling slightly.

“What’s your fucking problem?” Allie asked, punching Darren in the arm with some force.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” snapped Darren, standing up and moving towards the door. “I’m out of here. You really want to know, I’ll tell you tomorrow, when we’re alone. Otherwise, I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” he added, leaving and slamming the door behind him. The room was silent again, with the only noise coming from the TV set.

“Awkward,” said Ake, and that summed up the mood of the entire room.

[Port Christopher]

Verukt 0-3 Port Christopher
Goal: 15" 62" Uist, 43" Maitfield

Line up: Torrance 6, Anderiz 7, Gonclaves 7, Campbell 6, Dixon 6, Bronte 8, Del Vertio 7 (54-Nazario-Silva 7), Bandos 8 (84- Bensborg 4), Maitfield 9, Del Arro 7 (54-Neil 6), Uist 8

It's must win from here on in for Port Christopher, as their rocky start means that they are now in the thick of it, as they look to qualify for their second World Cup finals. Jim Reid's side went into the match with Verukt, on the back of three tough opening games, including a 1-0 defeat in Jeckland. Port Christopher's opponents for matchday four finished bottom of their Baptism of Fire group with a grand total of zero points - however, Reid and his players could afford to take nothing for granted.

Tomas Nazario-Silva remained on the bench for this one, despite the 22-year-old making his first appearance in two years, for the last ten minutes against Chiata. Reid made the decision to stick with his tried and tested starting eleven, obviously feeling that he had enough to get past the unranked nation.

Port Christopher never come out of the blocks quickly in any match, however, it was abundantly clear that they had a slight edge in this one. With Terranean League stars, such as Maitfield and Bandos, as well as Samaj FC's Rachel Del Arrow, the Sea Lions had just enough about them to stamp their authority on things early on. Any fears that Verukt were going to park the bus and make this a long night, were put to bed quickly as Tony Uist scored the side's first goal.

Key to the way Port Christopher play is hitting teams hard on the break, and after James Del Vertio made the crucial interception, teammate Maeve Bronte was able to spring the counter. With Uist, Maitfield, and Del Arro bursting forward in front of her, it was four on two, and the Pirates midfielder could afford to be choosy as she played in Uist for the opener. Now plying his trade with Marque in Brenecia, the 30-year-old has probably reached the highpoint of his career, and that was underlined with his cool finish.

After that Port Christopher did what they do best: they got bodies behind the ball, they kept their formation tight, and waited patiently. They were however, dealt the best tonic for any nerves they may still have been harbouring, as they made it two just before the half time whistle. We know, historically, that towards the end of the first half has been when Port Christopher have looked to press home any advantage, and they did so again here thanks Maitfield's second of the tournament. Dundee leftback, Liam Gonclaves, was able to bring the ball down the wing unchallenged, before he looked up and picked out the run of Del Arro. The tricky, little attacker could have tried to take it on herself, but she took the more sensible option, and played in the on-rushing Polaris winger, who hit a peach of a strike from just inside the box.

Working hard for one another, always looking for the easy ball, no one trying to be a hero. It has been the way Port Christopher have approached every match over the last two years, and once again, it seemed to be working, as they went up the tunnel with a comfortable lead.

Port Christopher came back out unchanged after halftime, but Reid made a double change shortly after the restart, bringing on Nazario-Silva for Del Vertio, and Aredhel Neil in place in the place of Del Arro. The fresh legs helped them press home their advantage, and the visitors got their third goal shortly after the hour mark.

A long ball forward from Neil was picked up out wide by Maitfield, who covered a lot of ground before reaching the by-line. The wide-man has probably been Port Christopher's best player so far in these qualifiers, and he reinforced that idea, firing in an excellent cross for Uist to score his second of the match. After a few lacklustre performances in attack, scoring three goals away from home will have given Jim Reid and his players a lot of hope. Uist in particular, will be happy to have broken his duck in the WCQs, as his goals are extremely important to this team's chances.

Port Christopher went on to keep a clean sheet, their third in four, with the three points moving them up to third in the group. With Equestrian States winning away to Chiata, the Atlantian Oceanian continue their revival, while insuring that Group Seven remains one of the most open groups in the qualifiers. Next up, Port Christopher play host to Farfadillis in what could potentially be one of their most important matches. There will be few people predicting anything other than a win for la Vherderoja, so Port Christopher's normally steadfast defence will be tested like never before.

[Red Blackiland]

Red Blackiland Sports and Off-topic Chronicles

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Peace of mind

RB fans in Lymantatia

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Author : Mathias Gërdorffen

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The small cell phone rang.
Not one, but two, three times.
That shrill sound of the bell he could not choose.
Then he stopped.
It was only then that he took courage to see the number.
An unknown number.
Who would it be?
Who would have been so insistent to call three times then?
She tried to forget the subject.
But he could not, because the phone screamed again for him.
High.
Strong.
Shut up.
His heart racing, his hand shaking, his mouth dry, the signs of panic.
The silence.
The little phone lying on the table, an object like any other, but capable of provoking terror, tiny devil.
He did not.
He acted instinctively, like beasts.
And it was only after hearing that unmistakable noise that made the monster crumble under its heavy and hard shoes that it was able to find the peace of mind intensely longed for.
Since he had bought, in six soft installments, that little gadget that promised him paradise.

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Lymantatia 2-5 Red Blackiland

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The night before, the match between Lymantatia and the visiting team was Red Blackiland, for the fourth round of the Qualifiers. The game for the vast majority of fans would be a good game to restore morale after a defeat to Chromatika, and try again to pack until the decisive match against Krytenia.
The match began with Red Blackiland playing in training rhythm, without objectivity, not believing a possible 'surprise', in the 17 minutes of the first half, in a wrong rebound from the back of Lymantatia, Beckenstander dominated pulled to the left leg and shot to the goal Of Lymantatia. At this point the home team knew that they needed to wake up not to have another defeat, and to continue having chances in the match. The victory was also very important for the owners of the house.
Lymantatia woke up after the game and had a couple of dangerous moves, with 32 minutes into the game, the home side scored with a header, tying the game 1 to 1. Five minutes later, Lymantatia scored the goal Turn, again on a still ball. Still in the end of the first, in a clash between attackers of Lymantatia and Red Blackiland, one of the attackers of the home team took the worse being replaced in the interval of the match.
The second half began and in the third minute, Lymantatia's nightmare began, Schwartz received a pass from Carmona, came face-to-face with his opponents goalkeeper, he touched the corner, and tied the match, 2 to 2. With the entrance of the other striker, Lymantatia lost a lot of strength, due to his lack of rhythm of game. Red Blackiland then started up, using his technical power and pressing Lymantatia on his defensive field, and losing a truck of goals.
The Lymantatia coach was desperate to reverse his team's fortunes in the game, and ordered his team to change strategy. On the other hand, Valbuena also made their substitutions, took Defour, Rodristander and Schwartz for the entrances of Eberhard, Lotzunali and Ferreth, but until then the tie persisted. But in the 30th minute, in an in-depth pitch, Lymantatia's slumber fell asleep again, Eberhard took the rival goalkeeper's play and pushed the ball into the net, making it 3-2 for Red Blackiland.
Now, Lymantatia's utter despair. It was an obvious ambition of Red Blackiland to use their ability at attacking on the flanks. The game continued to attack against the defense, Lymantatia very retreated, until in the 38 minutes, again he, Eberhard, complemented the ball that came from the rebound of the beam, scoring the fourth goal of Red Blackiland.
The duel continued dramatically to the end for Lymantatia. The home team still looking to have chances in the match, but in the defense, and Red Blackiland in the attack. And in the turnout of the lights, Ferreth, took advantage of another fault of the home team and touched the exit of the goalkeeper, to 'settle the invoice' and guarantee three more points for the visitors.

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The Justified Means - Storyline and Guide

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The Justified Means - Be a little warrior fighting against a titan!

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Mission 3 - Turnouts

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Turnouts is the third mission and the first gang/groups mission of the game. You'll do it for the Aljaysh Dakersh Almawy (Maoist Dakersh Army), a maoist revolutionary armed gang in south Dakersh area borders, this group have been a thorn in the side of the Dakersh government since the 1950's. Their revolutionary goals are to bring a communist regime and unite all citizens against ''capitalist pigs'', they are based in the ased in the agricultural areas in the corners of the country. Few nations that have admirations for maoism heard of their cause, and funded their gang in the hopes of one day taking control of the large Dakersh natural gas and oil fields. Their leader is Hilmi el-Emami, they have a rivalry with another paramilitary group in the game, the Dakersh Wiladat Jadida (Dakersh Rebirth Front), which proposes a pan-ethnic nationalist governmental form called 'National Ba'athism', saying to unite people against ''puppet governments that works for foreign interests''. Also, you need to take a break from the missions to the O.I.M, and start the faction ones to earn more habilties to unlock the main missions.

Going to Khaleel el-Sani's military base

So, el-Emami needs a man who knows his guns and explosives, so it's pretty good for him to have Federico around. The target of this mission is the sustainable fuel shaft in Khaleel el-Sani's military base. You're left at the phone booth with a ammo and weapons box and a motorcycle. It's not too far to the base - ride up and deal with the sentry guards. When you arrive at the base, el-Emami tells you that blowing the shaft would set off a giant explosion. The site is poorly guarded until Federico starts to make his way down the shaft. Explore and pick up the many cash stash, parts and armor laying around before dropping down. You will also find an armored car, good for having fun blowing the place up.
When you're ready, drop down into the fuel depot and hack the console code to initiate an overload. That won't be healthy for Federico and you must quickly use the grappling hook your way out to avoid becoming part of the show. Take your time to get the maximum height, don't panic and feebly try to use the hook your way up, doing it properly it should only take you one or two shots to get out. There is a helicopter right beside the building, but it's not necessary to escape successfully. If you do take it and haven't already disabled the SAMs nearby, prepare to evade missile launches at point blank range. An attack helicopter will also intercept you as you fly out, but that's not important: the mission is already a success.

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Mission 4 - Politic Dichotomy

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Aljaysh Dakersh Almawy are having a bit of trouble getting a local politician to see things their way. An apparently rare thing in Dakersh, Ruwaid al-Saher will not accept bribes or be swayed by other persuasive methods. He will, however be visiting a local military base and it's an excellent chance to kidnap him. Your mission starts with a motorcycle and just enough time to wreck it. Hop on and gun it through the flimsy blockade that marks a short dirt road to the right of the security check point at the overpass. Hit the ramp at speed and get a little stunt driving airtime before you pop your parachute and land beneath the bridge in the valley below. If you timed things well, in just a few seconds Ruwaid's black limo will come into view. Use the grappling hook leap onto the passing limousine, and dispatch the guy riding shotgun before you literally take out the driver. Be warned that the brown-suited driver will try to attack you with a shotgun.

Attacking Ruwaid's limousine

The road downhill is a busy one with security blockades. As you make your way out of the valley, it has several sharp bends and lots of trees and rocks. Oh, and Dakersh soldiers. Aim between cars whenever possible to help scrape off pursuers. Hitting the brakes as you head into turns and pulling hard over will occasionally cause soldiers to fly past the limo, unable to stop in time, colliding with trees, rocks, civilians and each other. Ruwaid complains bitterly about this mistreatment, but Federico's "diplomacy" skills win him over. That said, nothing short of the limo catching fire seems to get Ruwaid out of the car, but then he does meekly follow you to the next vehicle. If the limo is in no danger of exploding, he's not getting out, so you are stuck maneuvering that boat down the mountain. Pick up speed when you see blockades and aim for the opening between cars. The drop-off location is directly in front of a large templete in a Aljaysh dominated area, in the Kanaan area, where a group of Aljaysh members and two of their armored cars await your arrival. As long as you and Ruwaid arrive in one piece, the mission is successful.

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Mission 5 - Stealing the Monster

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Federico is assigned to the task of obtaining firepower for the Aljaysh front in the form of a Dakersh Army armored car, a VV-20. It's an armored car armed with an auto-cannon. The gun's full vertical range is around 45 degrees, with the depression being roughly 25, so it's ideal for taking out targets at medium ranges. The mounted auto-cannon can destroy almost any vehicle in a single hit, though some, like larger trucks and other of the same VV-20 armored car model may take two or three. While the gun has limited vertical range, low-fly attack helicopters can be also downed with a single shot. That's why the Aljaysh want them, then, Federico's mission is to steal and deliver the armored car. These things don't grow on trees, but fortunately there is one in a nearby base called Siraaj al-Mirza, a standard Dakersh Army camp with normal equipment and buildings, such as several wooden barrack buildings, some hangars, guard towers. At least one entrance guard post has a Minigun and the place has several first-aid boxes to restore health. The base has also five anti-aircraft cannons.
In this mission you'll carry a SMG. The mission has two parts: The first is to locate and steal the armored car from the base. The vehicle is located in one of several domed garage bays helpfully situated near the fence. Feel free to complete the base if you're already here anyway. Use the grappling hook over the fence and sprint into the garage and take the driver's seat. Now, drive the armored car to the drop off point: a car mechanical workshop. Drive the car over or through your opposition. The fun thing about stealing an armored car is that it's going to be hard to stop you. Ignore the pursuers (or blow them up) unless you like the idea of running them over with your new toy. Head straight to the drop off. As soon as you enter the drop-off point, the pursuit automatically ends, no matter how many Dakershian Army cars or soldiers are right behind you.
Unrealistically, enough bullets can actually destroy the VV-20. Taking too much damage results in the armored car exploding and the mission failing. As long as it's still in (mostly) one piece when you arrive at the drop-off point, the mission will be successful. Luckily, the armored car will take a lot of damage before this happens. It's advisable to blow up the enemy vehicles from a distance, rather than next to you, as the explosions also damage the car.

[Tinhampton]

Tinhampton City FC's Press Office: 8:14am, 10th February 2017

• First-Team Manager Clive Turnwood: Suzanne, you're usually up around this time... that is, before you doze off to sleep for a good few more hours yet. I assume that you're still writing your match report. How's it going?
• Press Secretary Suzanne Hammond: You are sadly mistaken. After sleeping early, waking up in time for the match, watching it, making a bunch of notes, having a bit of a rest, watching it, making more notes and wildly celebrating in stoppage-time, I have finally managed to conjure up my match report for our latest and greatest World Cup qualifier match. The only thing separating us from qualification right now are our head-to-head results against the Electrumites!
• Clive Turnwood (about five seconds skimming through later): Well, this looks like excellent stuff. Standard practise - send this through our website and put it on a bunch of special matchday programs?
• Suzanne Hammond: Indeed. I have to admit, it looks well-written, although it could just be me showering praise on my own work... what do you think?
• Clive Turnwood: I agree, it is quite a good piece. But I have been reading the World Cup news from a bunch of other competitors, and I was wondering - why can't we have players with names as amazing as Death To San Jose Guayabal (and not that I don't like the San Jose people)?
• Suzanne Hammond: If you read on, I think you'll find Mohammed al-Khazr quite a good name - and an influential one, not to say the least...

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NEW GAZI 1-2 TINHAMPTON: A MOST NEW GAZIAN COMEBACK

Tinhampton manages to squeak past away from home as last five minutes provide drama galore
New Gazi 1 (Japori 89') -- Tinhampton 2 (Wood 90+1'; al-Khazr 90+4')

[Drawkland]

KICK CORPS PLAYER BIOGRAPHIES
It's come to our attention that many people don't know a lot about Kick Corps players outside of what they've seen on the international stage. We feel that this is unfair to the players and thus, we want to showcase them a little of our players' history, personality, personal life, and of course, playing style. Maybe this will help future opponents or scouts understand our players more and lead to a brighter and better future for Drawkland in soccer.

Pft, nahh. Anyway, we'll be progressing along through the lineup, starting with the Starters and then going into the Reserves. Once we finish the current lineup this series will obviously cease, but we'll release a new installment every time new players are called up to the team.

Part 2: Cynthia Pack, Nicole Warren

CYNTHIA PACK
Age: 26 Position: Leftback Corps Number: 2

Cynthia Pack was born in Shelbee, a large-ish city in the Cordon District of Callagardet. Born to TJ Pack and Sarah Jon Pack, Cynthia was the youngest of 4 kids and the second daughter. Originally she didn't take a liking to soccer, preferring to play basketball, and actually playing a season of gridiron football when Shelbee trialed a female high school gridiron. Cynthia's school, Remy Yatt High School, had much success in this league, but ultimately interest and funding wasn't enough to keep it going. Cynthia played Tight End, which required her to bulk up, and she did. Once the season ended she wanted to play some sort of sport, but basketball didn't seem to appeal to her, as the outdoors had really caught her heart as far as sports go. The soccer coach at Yatt HS had been eyeing Cynthia during her gridiron stint and decided she would make an excellent defender, and so that's what Cynthia ended up doing. She didn't make very much noise, but the University of Raikennax still gave her a scholarship after graduation to play for them. She ended up playing all 5 of her college years at U of R, but signed on to be a DLK agent after graduating with a degree in Physics. The Kilnelm Crusaders, in dire need of a defender, signed her on, she's played 2 seasons with them to date.

As previously mentioned, Cynthia is known for being a larger presence on the field, as far as bulk and height goes. She's a hardlined defender who prefers to put pressure on defenders by using her body and bulk. She's very physical and can commonly be carded, although not very often in Drawkland. She's very quick on short sprints, which can make her a real asset during fastbreaks by the opposition, but she can't sustain for very long. Endurance wise, she can usually only last Full Time, as Extra Time is where she begins to tire and falter. Long-term fatigue is also a factor, so it's good to have a player or two who can play the position behind her, so she can alternate matches. Despite her faults, she's still a boon to most defenses, but we believe that if she had more defenders with her in the backfield she'd be a lot more effective.

Cynthia has short blond hair which she wears in a unkempt bob. She's quite muscular and thick in the legs and arms, and has been described by many as a tomboy. She's also a sports enthusiast in her free time and is commonly invited to talk on sports commentary shows for her fame cred and general valuable asset. It's presumed that she'll get a job in sports broadcasting once she retires, if she doesn't use her hard-earned Physics degree on some other job. She hasn't been in any relationships that the public has known about. She also does have a bit of a serious attitude, sometimes too serious for the situation, but can still be a source of light-hearted joking on occasion.

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NICOLE WARREN
Age: 25 Position: Rightback Corps Number: 3

Nicole Warren was born to Curtis Warren and Hannah Grace Warren in Kayo, Nainel, Kanyoet. Curtis and Hannah are actually natives of the nation of Nicerford, located across the Oreme Ocean from Drawkland, south of Dreaglelun. They moved to Kayo in search of a more exciting life in Drawkland as opposed to the quieter and neutral life of those in Nicerford. They named their children Nicholas and Nicole, after their home nation. However, Nicole is fully Drawkian, and her competitive attitude shows it. In elementary and middle school she ran on the Cross Country team in the fall, while playing Kids' Soccer with Kayo's junior non-school-affliated league. Her family moved to the Isles of Avon, as her parents were professors who had been hired by Fort Roy University where they'd have more influential positions. Therefore, East Williams High was where she got her start playing academic soccer, the smaller Avonian school soccer scene being perfect for Nicole to really excel. As a midfielder, she was quite good, but after being picked up by Fort Roy University (for obvious reasons), the coach moved her to a right defender, where she really found her niche. At the organization of the formal Federation of Avonian Soccer, Nicole was a favorite to be picked by Fort Roy SC, but Eastern Stars outbid for her and with little thought, she went with them and there she's been for several cycles.

As a player, Nicole is a savvy little defender, smaller than most, but obviously much quicker than most, and can beat out many strikers in a footrace, perhaps for obvious reasons, as she still runs distance races in the offseason to stay in shape. Her endurance and stamina over the course of both a single match and a full campaign is rather unmatched, being on the field for long stretches of time is perhaps her forte. Despite not playing in the heavily-offensive Drawkland, she seems to have a better time playing on a slim defense than a packed one, making less mistakes and more defensive opportunities when she has breathing room and has to intersect less with fellow defenders. In fact, she'd probably make a good Sweeper or Centerback, but she herself has admitted that she prefers the right behind flank for sentimental reasons.

Nicole is known for having rusty red hair which is of mid-length, usually kept in a ponytail for pretty much whenever she's in the public eye. She wears glasses off the pitch, but she wears contacts on the pitch rather than sport goggles or something of the like. She's on the smaller side with a light frame, which is part of the reason why she is able to scurry around the backfield so well. She's a bit short for a Drawkian, only around 7'1", so sometimes viewed as a younger player despite outranking half the team in age. She lives in Kayo in a small apartment downtown, and there's no confirmed relationship between her and anybody but we suspect there is one kept out of the paparazzi eye.

[Veldgouwen]

”Yaaaaaassin Tarki! Ya-sin! Yasin Tarki! Yaaaaaaaassin Tarki! Ya-sin! Yasin Tarki!”

If the ridiculously large drum and painted faces didn’t make them a noticeable force in the stands already, the continuous chanting as soon as their preferred right midfielder touched the ball surely did. It contrasted slightly with the vast majority of Veldgouwer fans, who preferred to spend their experience more quietly, although discussing what went wrong or right with your neighbors could result in a few shouts here and there. But not so to the group of an approximate eight youngsters, who screamed their lungs out and seemed sore after only about fifteen minutes into a game that could go both ways.

It was a far from unconventional line-up which represented Veldgouwen between the chalk of The Ship as a mild flu epidemic had caused quite a few names to drop out. Amongst the victims who probably spend this period at home with cold shivers and hot tea were both Lasse Vandertoren and Roel Meganck, ensuring the unforeseen right-wing line-up of Derk Breydels supporting Yassin Tarki. The 19-year old winger seemingly enjoyed himself against the Kandorith opponent, not afraid to try and dribble his opponent. Despite the inconsistent results from his moves, it brought great delight to the young boys in the gallery. They had tickets anyway but that the brother of the youngest member of their crew, Younes Tarki, was a surprise starter formed the icing on the cake.

”Hey, you there. Gonna keep it down a little, are-ya?”

With a leather jacket and a handkerchief tied around his head, he could have been a biker if it weren’t for his pair of ridiculous glasses and the uptight shirt covering his arms. From a first guess, you’ld say he never got married and never would and the frustration of a cubicle job had found its exhaust valve in sitting on a harsh wooden bench and mumbling in disappointment about the fact your own team did not continuously were five goals in the lead as should. Although flabbergasted for half a second, the band of boys decided to ignore the sole grumpy fellow and continued their rhythm.

”We love you, Yassin. We do! We love you, Yassin, we do! We love you, Yassin, we do, ooooooooh, Yassin, we love you!”

One had to admit that the light winger was the main source of entertainment in a confrontation between two teams a bit too eager not to lose. The wave of disease had brought Schaepdryver back in the striker position, but he wasn’t reached often enough to create any danger. Oberink, on the other hand, could’ve started chatting up those on the front row behind his goal as nothing round and leathery seemed eager to come his way. A frustrating game, for sure, and that also got to the players themselves. Breydels attempted to overlap Tarki but the youngster tried to make a way through the core of the pitch for himself, only to be stopped by a defender from the Dragons. With quite some noise and a handful of gestures, the experienced wingback made clear what he thought about that.

”Booooo, booo, Breydels! Com’on Tarki!”
”Hey, hey, what you saying,” the would-be biker said. Only now, the youngsters saw that the thing around his head was colored in the red and black of Racing Vlierdrecht, ”you’re gonna shut up about Breydels, are ya? Or do I need to come down there?”

Had his initial growl been met by ignorance by the surrounding supporters, his new crusade found a lot more followers. Eagerly, quite a few joined his howls but within a few seconds the stewards arrived to defuse the situation.

”So boys, let’s keep it a bit calm here, shall we.”

Unenthusiastically accepting said ruling, the boys had to bite off their lip, seeing how the chemistry on the pitch between Tarki and Breydels came close to nuclear disaster. When either of them tried to run into space, the other one simply ignored the former or booted a cross to the other wing. Even Valkeniers tried to yell some sense in his players, but it seemed little use. A few seconds ahead of the halfway mark, Breydels ran past his man. Although the opposing left-back, scrambling to slide into his path, left Tarki with miles of space, the Vlierdrecht defender opted for a pass to the left. It hit off the leg of the Kandorithian but nonetheless found Stalhof who, in a marvelous display of cool and technic lifted the ball across the defense in one simple touch back to the right post where two men in blue had lined up. Both could have scored, actually, but in one gesture, Breydels shoved aside Tarki and headed it in the bottom corner. As he ran off to the corner flag to celebrate, his eyes interlocked with those of the assistant referee, who beeped like a madman. Offside. Impossible? Breydels indeed came from far back but Tarki was flirting with the offside trap.

”You fucking idiot!” could be heard by half the fans as well, ”You useless piece of foreign shit!” and for once, it weren’t the men in black who were at the receiving end of that kind of language.

”You’re a piece of shit,” Younes cried, ”You are!” and the admitting voices of his group quickly drowned in the shouts of those around them.
”Get them off the stands! They’re no real Veldgouwer! Get them off!”

Quickly and clinically, the men in orange isolated the young boys and guided them to the tunnel.

”But we paid for our tickets,” one tried.
”We need peace in our stands, lads, so please move on,” was the bureaucratic reply.
”Tarki is my brother! And he said…” Younes gave it a last try.
”Yes, I know, you guys always have a nephew or a brother, but that doesn’t matter. I don’t think you guys fit in…”

The steward actually never got too complete that sentence. Maybe he wanted to say “here, amongst all those grown-ups”. Or “in this stand”. Or…

…

By now, it wasn’t only the aching feeling of his cheek, which had met the harder side of a baton, that made Younes regret attacking the man in a rush of blood before the eyes, nor was the knowledge he’ld have to explain to his mother how and why he was dropped off at home after his first football game in the national stadium by a police van. The two officers in front had nearly visited all addresses of the group and Yassin was the only one left in the car. The radio, often intermitted by vague and crackly messages with whereabouts of other vehicles, concluded the night.

”That's it, the last whistle! Veldgouwen hasn’t turned into a scoring machine overnight but does bring home three points with a powerful header from Kris Liesmonts, playing a strong second half at his unusual position as right attacking midfield.”

”Could you… Could you please turn that down,” Younes asked, a small crack in his voice nearly reflecting the car radio if it weren’t for the muttered sob that followed. Teasingly, the driver turned the volume up.

”It was no easy game for the squad and during the opening half, there were a few incidents in the stands. But with the goal from Liesmonts on a Van Baekel free kick, it seems that everyone will return home satisfied.”

[Barunia]

OOC: Picking up from where yesterday's RP left off. IC they are a single, unbroken episode.

<interval>

(The Beat - Episode 1)

"Control to Charlie-Alpha One-Nine-Five."
Molly was back at the grocery store, taking a witness statement from the upset manager, when she heard her call sign on the radio. Excusing herself, she stepped aside.
"Charlie-Alpha One-Nine-Five to Control, go ahead. Over."
"Message from Charlie-Alpha, return to station with Six-Oh-Two ASAP. Over."
"Acknowledged. Over and Out."
Molly went back to where Richard was.
"We're wanted back at the station. Are we done here?"
Richard tucked his pocket book back into his breast pocket. "Pretty much. No CCTV, but the cashier's description matches our man."
"So case closed then."
"Done and dusted. Any idea why we're being recalled?"
"None," replied Molly as they stepped into the street.
"Probably paperwork we haven't completed." complained Richard. "We should be out on the street patrolling."

Richard could have not been more wrong about paperwork. He found himself standing in the at ease position, being glared at by Sergeant Maynard. The sergeant had just explained the situation.
"That's ridiculous, sir!" exclaimed Richard Bills.
"You know we have to take this seriously. Now, Dawson isn't here, so you can speak freely Bills. Now, I want you to give me your version of events."
Richard swallowed hard. He paused, while the sergeant stared at him. Richard began to feel really uncomfortable. He stammered out a reply to the sergeant.
"I…ah…I wasn't there, sir."
Maynard stared at him. "What?! Just where the hell were you then, Bills?"
"Er, buying coffee, sir."
Maynard shook his head in disbelief. "Well that's just great, isn't it. You realise Dawson's integrity has been called into question here, and instead of being able to support her, you were off feeding your caffeine addiction."
"It was Molly's idea sir. When the call came in she took off in the car."
"I see. Well, I hope for your sake she backs that up, Bills. You can go now."
Bills left in a hurry. Maynard stood, staring at the closed door, a look of resigned disappointment on his face.

<end credits>

[Abanhfleft]

Lex Talionis, Part Thirty-five

1768 Highgate Road
Barangay General Trias
Riuwiee, Abanhfleft

“Hi, my name is Britt Hanokssen…”

“…And I’m Erin Jensdottir…”

“…and we’re here today to tell the whole world that we’re still alive.”

“A lot has happened in the past few days, events which have convinced me that it’s time for me and Erin to reveal to the world that we are both not, in fact, dead as people have been led to believe,” Britt said. “I had a good friend of mine, Audra Jaakola—you may have heard of her—die in my arms, and her death was also my fault, but I’ll get to that later. The fact of the matter is that, had Erin and I not faked our deaths, Audra would still be alive today. And that’s where we will begin our story.”

“Everyone will remember that Erin had fallen into big trouble with the Crows,” Britt continued. “But what people don’t know is that Erin had decided to strike a deal with the Crows just so they would finally get off her back. Those were the days that we had just gotten together so I told Erin that I was coming with her to Otavice, the hometown of the Crows, and that we were going to deal with the mess she had made together. She didn’t want to take me with her, but I begged her, and then this car full of Crows comes along and they tell us to get in, so Erin had no choice but to have me with her as the Crows brought us to Otavice.

“There, the Crows treated us well enough, but Erin told me that they were just buttering us up for when we actually began negotiating. That was when we were brought into a room with a TV showing the present leader of the Crows, Slobo Vulovic, standing over Bisera Haralampieva, whom I’m sure you remember is now playing for Hunsen Loggers FC, my old team. Slobo threatened to break the bones in Bisera’s legs one by one if we didn’t agree to the Crows’ demands which included, among other things, Erin and I getting out of Anglatia and never playing football ever again. I eventually agreed to the deal, and I forced Erin to agree to it with me because I didn’t want to see Bisera get hurt. This was before the days Pridnestrovia and Anglatia became enemies by way of the Nordskanian War, by the way, so don’t be surprised that I’m friends with a Pridnestrovian. The Crows let us go, but little did we know that they were afraid that we were going to break the deal so they decided that it was time for us to die, just so they could be sure we wouldn’t talk.

“That same night, as Erin contemplated our fates and I slept it all off, someone knocked on the door of our hotel room. It turned out that Bisera was actually friends with a very powerful person, a Fleftic woman named Amelia Pena, who had near-unlimited resources and connections. Pena also had her own reasons to screw around with the Crows, which is how Bisera was able to convince Pena that saving us would hurt the Crows big-time. So Bisera and Pena smuggled me and Erin out of that hotel room, and then Pena’s people must have planted dead bodies in the room before setting fire to it so people, chiefly the Crows, would think that we died in the fire.

“Since we couldn’t stick around in Anglatia without the Crows realizing that the wool had been pulled over their eyes, Pena decided that it was best if she brought us back to Riuwiee, the capital of Abanhfleft, which also happens to be her hometown. She let us stay in a good place, and she even let us sign on to her own football team, FC United of Riuwiee. Erin doesn’t want me to say this, but she has been absolutely tearing up the local league here. Sure, it’s just the seventh tier of Abanhfleft’s football but she’s going through these Sunday players like a hot knife through butter. Some of the real big teams over here are actually stating their interest in picking up Erin but after this, I don’t know how they’ll react.

“Anyway, Erin and I were stuck in Abanhfleft, but at least we were both playing. And then, one day, Bisera and Pena come along to our house and tell us that my friend Audra, whom I’ve already mentioned earlier in this video, paid Bisera a visit over in Hunsen and told her that she had to bring me to Hunsen or else one of our other teammates will die. As it turns out, Audra was actually part of the Crows, the very same group that had tried to have me and Erin killed, and after they’d had their fun stomping around in Nordskania and helping the State of Nordskania establish themselves, Audra decided that that was not why she had joined the Crows and therefore she wanted out. But before she fled, Audra wanted to take me with her to wherever she had planned to go.

“This is where things have gone to shit,” Britt said with a sigh. “Bisera had told Pena about Audra contacting her so Pena, who saw an opportunity to strike back at the Crows after they had killed two friends of hers, wanted to organize a trap to capture Audra, who was Slobo Vulovic’s girlfriend at the time. Apparently, Pena thought that killing Slobo’s girlfriend would strike the same blow that the Crows did when they killed Pena’s friends. Pena wanted to use me as bait for Audra, but then she thought of a better idea to lure Audra to her death. But I would still have a role to play in Pena’s plan.

“So Pena’s men captured Audra and brought her to someplace far away from where the Crows could interfere with the whole thing, and then they locked me in with her. But before they locked us in, they gave us our guns, but our guns only had one round loaded in each of them. Pena then told us what her real plan was: either Audra had to shoot me so she could gain her freedom, or I would have to shoot Audra and therefore add to the humiliation of her death by being the best friend who became her killer.

“I never intended to shoot Audra, I really didn’t. But the gun went off in my hand, and the next thing I know, Audra’s on the floor, bleeding to death. There was nothing I could do to stop the bleeding so all I could do was cradle Audra in my arms and watch as she passed away right before my eyes. But that wasn’t the end for her. Pena wanted to throw away Audra’s body where it would never be found, but I told her to give Audra a decent burial because that was what she deserved and more. To my surprise, Pena agreed with me, and they took Audra back to Rastaka, her hometown, to be buried.

“I went to the funeral, you know. I was the girl in the black Monarch and Ross U hoodie. Or else you might remember me as the girl who talked to the little guy who was at the funeral too. That was Slobo Vulovic, and he talked to me and Bisera. He told me that the whole reason that the Crows wanted me and Erin dead was because of a beef she had with Sami Haawk, and since Sami Haawk was just a lackey of Slobo’s dad’s, our quarrel with the Crows was with them and them alone. Now that Slobo’s head and Sami’s toeing his line, Slobo told me that there was no longer any problem between Erin and me and them. So I’m guessing that that means that I killed Audra for nothing. We were both just pawns in a larger war and we’ve been used just like that by the chessmasters, as pawns.

“Now, this next part didn’t happen to me exactly, but my friend Bisera told me all about it,” Britt added after she had caught her breath. “During Audra’s funeral, she saw my other friend back in Hunsen, DeAria Tavaris. Audra, DeAria, and I had once been the trio in Hunsen’s youth academy; we were the closest friends. We did lots of stuff together, some of which was illegal and would get me arrested if I told you about it, but some of you might have a rough idea of what we did. Anyway, Bisera told me that she had seen DeAria at the funeral and she said that DeAria was absolutely devastated. She must be thinking that she was the only one left in our little trio because first me then Audra died. Bisera was worried that DeAria might think about killing herself just so she could join me and Audra in the afterlife and that’s what convinced her to go along with my decision to reveal ourselves once again. So, DeAria, if you ever get to watch this, I’m telling you now that I’m still alive and that Audra’s in a better place, so don’t think of following her there just yet.

“Well, that’s it, I suppose,” Britt sighed, slapping her hands on her thighs. “Anyway, I’m Britt Hanokssen, and this is Erin Jensdottir, and hello, world! We’re still alive. Goodbye.”

“And cut,” Mateo Pena, Amelia’s twin brother, said as he stopped the camera from recording any further. “Good work, girls,” he told Britt and Erin as the two sighed in relief and leaned back on the couch where they had been sitting.

“Now, are you sure that you really want to do this?” Amelia Pena asked them from beside Mateo, who was now hard at work editing the raw footage and turning it into something more presentable and viewable for the rest of the world. “Because the video’s still here, it’s not yet in the Internet. We can still delete it if you want.”

“No,” Britt said, shaking her head vigorously. “Send it on. There’s no more point in the two of us hiding.”

“As you wish,” Amy replied, nodding somberly in Britt’s direction. She then nodded to Mateo, who pressed a key on his laptop.

“Uploading is complete,” he said. “The video is now live across the world. Welcome back to the land of the living, girls,” he told Britt and Erin. “Now let’s see how the folks will react to it.”

The video of Britt and Erin revealing that they were both in fact actually alive swiftly made the rounds on the Internet. The video was streamed on every computer and device hooked up to the Web, and it was played on various TV channels as the sports media of numerous nations picked up on this scandalous new bit of information and crafted all sorts of news and speculation about it. “Britt and Erin are alive” became the most trending topic on all the social media sites in the ‘Net, and Britt and Erin’s families back in Hunsen were very much surprised to find out that the two girls whom they thought they had lost forever were actually alive and well in the capital city of Abanhfleft.

Casper Raptis, owner of the Hunsen Loggers Football Club, was angry, but not because he had been fooled into thinking that his star player was dead. In fact, Raptis was angry because United of Riuwiee did not pay an appropriate transfer fee when the Fleftic club signed Erin and Britt. In his defense, United of Riuwiee manager Henry Blanco said that he had no idea that the players he had signed as “Britt Hanks” and “Erin Jennings” were actually Britt Hanokssen and Erin Jensdottir so the idea of a transfer fee didn’t even come up in his mind. The case eventually caused a big stir within the Samahang Futbol ng Abanhfleft, the Fleftic Football Federation, as they were eventually called over to arbitrate the case. But since there had been nothing like this in the entire history of Fleftic football (a player, let alone two, faking their deaths and moving to another country and being picked up by another team), the SFA couldn’t decide on an appropriate course of action. Finally, they decided to ban both Britt and Erin from playing for the rest of the season, and United of Riuwiee was stripped of all of the points that they had won or drawn while fielding either of them (which turned out to be almost every game as United of Riuwiee had fielded Erin whenever they could because she was just that good for them), resulting in United of Riuwiee dropping right to the bottom of the Capital Islands Premier Division and suddenly falling into a relegation battle when just a few hours before they were on course for promotion to the Capital National League. Britt and Erin would still be able to play next season for United of Riuwiee if the club decided to register them, but there was a chance that they would go back to Hunsen or some other club would come to pick them up.

Meanwhile, in the city of Rosenpfelblatz in the province of Mezaladbyi, a man named Matthew Cave saw the news that had erupted right in the heart of Riuwiee and looked down at the notes he had taken out of his filing cabinet once he had heard those two names which were familiar to him. He then compared these notes to the ones he had taken of the players named “Erin Jennings” and “Britt Hanks” and noted that there were almost no similarities in them despite the fact that those four players were two and the same. Cave then immediately resolved to take a closer look at himself before being so quick to judge what he had then thought as “not even Sunday league quality” players. He had judged both Britt and Erin to be such when they were still playing for Hunsen but had deemed them worthy of attention from Rosenpfelblatz City Ladies Football Club once they had moved to Riuwiee and began playing under new names.

So ends the first chapter of the story of lex talionis, the law of equal and sufficient retribution and punishment. It started with two girls dying, and it ended with those two girls coming back to life. In the intervening moments, people had died, and other people had been killed to avenge those who had died. The Crows had attempted to invade Riuwiee with their affiliate the Corsairs but had been forced out of the Fleftic capital city by the Huesca Cartel and their unsteady “allies” the Huns, but when the time came for the Huescas to invade the Crows’ hometown of Otavice, they could barely make a dent in the defences and had lost more high-ranking people in the process. Both sides were content to lick their wounds and count their losses, but they both must know that this was just the first phase of their war. The Crows had started it, and the Huesca Cartel intended to see it through to the bitter end. But whose bitter end it was, no one knew just yet.

---

CRESCENT NEWS NETWORK
SPORTS CHANNEL - OFFICIAL WEBSITE
ABANHFLEFT • PRIDNESTROVIA • OONTAZ DERT LI NG • COPPER CUPRUM • TRENDSTART • FHULGHAMOUS PENINSULA

WORLD CUP 77 QUALIFIERS: ABANHFLEFT VS MANGETSUJIMA
By Malik Qazizadah


Abanhfleft's Kevin Kelvin celebrates his goal against Mangetsujima. (Courtesy of Crescent News Network Sports Channel/Andros Tasasa)

RELEINTHI - Abanhfleft strolled to a comfortable victory against Mangetsujima at the Monsanto Stadium in Releinthi as Kareem Dagen finally returned from the hamstring injury which had sidelined him in the match against Averyickan City, and he marked his return with an impressive and clinical goal.

And before he scored, Dagen was involved in both goals which Abanhfleft scored early in the first half; it was Dagen who started off the eleven-pass move which eventually ended with Kevin Kelvin slotting the ball into the back of the net just ten minutes into the game.

Dagen's second contribution was making the cross from the left to which Rory Edwards was able to make a good connection with his head to smash it past the Mangetsujima keeper.

Dagen himself should have scored just before the end of the first half as well but had to watch his attempt at a chip sail over both the opposing keeper and the crossbar.

After the interval, Mangetsujima was handed a lifeline back into the game when Kenneth Owobowale steered the ball into his own net while defending an opposition free kick, but Abanhfleft held firm and kept searching for that third goal to secure the all-important two-goal advantage.

Dagen saw yet another chance from him go wide when Toumain Vincelot's free kick landed right at Dagen's feet, only for the returning Rosenpfelblatz City alumnus to see his lofty touch take the ball past the wrong side of the post.

Dagen finally saw his name on the board when substitute Vitaly Zima unselfishly passed the ball sideways to Dagen for an easy tap-in.

Abanhfleft could have had a fourth goal as well had Vincelot struck his injury-time free kick with a little more conviction; instead the Mangetsujima keeper plucked the ball out of the sky with immense relief all over his face.


Abanhfleft manager Ranulph Bustamante: Everyone contributes to victory

Abanhfleft manager Ranulph Bustamante: "It's obvious how things went, you know. Everyone chipped in, made their contributions to the overall team play, and that's how we were able to get the win. It's just simple logic."

"It's always like this, you know. You get good momentum whenever you get a good win, and that rolls on and on and takes you on a tidal wave of good feelings which means you're always in the mood to win. I also attribute the winning feeling as the reason why we won tonight."

"We're on good momentum. We've got everything on our side right now. I'm confident and the side's confident, and that wins games as well."

Abanhfleft travels to Hazard Nation for the fifth match in the World Cup 77 qualifiers.

      ABANHFLEFT 3 -  1 MANGETSUJIMA
    KELVIN (10')        OWOBOWALE (54' og)
R. EDWARDS (18')
     DAGEN (67')

ABANHFLEFT
GK: 1 Varamoninov █
RB: 2 Afolayan
RCB: 4 L. Edwards
LCB: 5 Owobowale (Bergkamp - 72')
LB: 3 Ogigayatsu
RM: 8 Vincelot
CM: 7 Zolnerov
LM: 6 Marilungo
CAM: 10 R. Edwards
RS: 9 Kelvin (V. Zima - 60')
LS: 11 Dagen (Lee - 80')

MATCH STATISTICS
Possession
Abanhfleft: 61%
Mangetsujima: 39%
Shots
Abanhfleft: 15 (8 on target)
Mangetsujima: 9 (3 on target)
Corners
Abanhfleft: 8
Mangetsujima: 4
Fouls
Abanhfleft: 18
Mangetsujima: 24

[Revolutionary Nordskania]

Julius

Part Three

They had played so well. They had defeated Acronius 5-3, had played close with an Abanhfleft side that was in the top twenty five teams in the tournament, and they had gone up 2-1 on Nephara, the number six ranked side. When the Barons were playing at their best, they really could beat anyone. The Kurovo Whirl could be a tactic that was nearly magical when the players executed it correctly and kept their roles and positioning correct. The entire team was capable of playing like one well oiled machine… A big gold machine, as they had been called by the press a few times in the past. It was cliche, but a true expression. When they were playing their best, at least.

In the second half against Nephara, they did not play their best. They blew the lead, allowing Nephara to win 3-2 behind their second half defensive mistakes and lapses in concentration when it came to offensive positioning. In the Nordskanian system, positioning was key. Each player had their job, and each player was a part that was carefully aligned in the larger machine. Move one of the cogs into the wrong spot, and the machine jammed. Some parts had more freedom of movement than others, but the concept stayed relatively the same most of the time: everyone had a job, and it was important that they stuck to it instead of going for glory and interrupting the careful balance that had been planned out ahead of time.

Jakub Danshov had tried to do much in the midfield and had hurt their playmaking, Fabijan Hadzic had made too many runs upfield while abandoning his defensive duties, and Arkadi Zima had been forced to spend much of the match playing underneath the midfield and cleaning up Danshov’s messes after the young central midfielder left plenty of defensive holes in the formation. Josef Grekov’s skill at shot stopping had kept the final scoreline from truly reflecting the mistakes that Nordskania had made, but everyone still knew how badly they had messed up by stepping away from the plan in this match. And as the players left the pitch and walked down the tunnel, the staff told them that.

“This is why we have a game plan,” Julius Shvets said, leading the team to the locker room along with Karl Karpenko. “They’re the more talented team, the reason we had a chance against their more athletic players is because we set up a game plan that worked. Step outside of that plan, and you turn the match into a series of individual matchups, and the majority of those aren’t going to go in our favor. Jakub tried to take on the defense himself, and that resulted in him losing the individual matchup every time and opening holes in our defense for the opposition to exploit. Fabijan tried to make plays instead of defending, and the result was a slew of chances from the counter attack on the side that he was supposed to lock down. Ante was playing too high and missed out on chances to make plays, just so he could get a few more chances for himself. There were mistakes across the board, and that, not the talent of the opposition, was what cost us the match.”

“We know, Chief. You can stop reminding us and rubbing it in our faces that we choked,” snapped Ces Yoshida, who was keeping her head down as she followed the coaches and the other forwards to the locker room. The three forwards were the most frustrated of anyone, because the majority of the pressure fell on their shoulders. When the team didn’t perform, the fans always asked why they hadn’t been able to rescue the match. “All of us know what happened. We just want to turn the page now and focus on the future. And if you guys want to replace me, replace me. I don’t want to hear a speech about it, though.”

There were widespread rumors that Ces Yoshida was in danger of losing her spot to Theodora Bojovic or Pavel Adrianic, because of her poor chemistry up front with Damir Dragovic-Courtial. The two had formerly been close, but they had suffered a falling out when Ces lied to Damir about wanting to sign for Central Turbayov. She had went to the Heiwa Wizards instead, and Damir had felt betrayed and hadn’t spoken to her for months after the incident. Now, they were on speaking terms, but they were by no means friends like they had been during their Baptism of Fire. Ces playing well as of recently had saved her spot, but with a loss where she hadn’t put in a great performance, it looked like her spot was in danger again. Then again, none of the forwards or wide players had played particularly well, except for Piotr Vlasenko, who had scored both goals.

“We haven’t decided the lineup for the next match,” said Karl Karpenko. “Though, your chemistry with Damir, or lack thereof, has been concerning. My advice to you, Francesca, is to stop putting so much stock in what the media tells you. These rumors, they weren’t started by myself or by anyone else on this staff. And yet you talk about them as if they’re facts. If there’s one thing that you should have learned by now, at this point in your career, it’s that everything the media says isn’t true. By extension, just because they don’t report something doesn’t mean it isn’t true. I thought I did a better job of teaching that to you all.”

Ces hung her head, letting her blonde hair fall forward over her eyes. “Sorry, Karl-san,” she said. “It’s hard not to pay attention. Every time I turn on TBC Sports, they talk about the lineups and the national team pool and which players should be starting, and I’ve never been criticized by them as much as I’m being criticized now. I try to ignore it, but it’s hard to not let it affect me. I’ll try harder.”

Before Julius could speak again, Piotr Vlasenko put his hands up and said something of his own. “I know what you’re going to say, already. I didn’t make enough plays in center field despite getting the goals, and I didn’t facilitate well enough for Damir and Ces. But they weren’t in position to make plays like I was, and if all of the chances fall to me, I’m going to take all of the shots. I stand by the way I played today,” he said. Of course, Piotr couldn’t be called the problem with this team right now. He’d been great despite not making plays for his teammates.

“Sometimes I think the reason that I’m not starting is because of my last name,” sighed Theodora, referring to how she was the daughter of a famous player who had been a star during her playing days but had been exposed for more and more off the pitch problems recently, ranging from poor parenting to drug abuse. Now, Theodora carried that bad reputation, despite doing absolutely nothing to earn it. “If you remove the names and look at our numbers and match ratings, there’s no way anyone would pick Ces over me based on our recent form for club and country. Just saying.”

The comment had been directed at Antonius and Antonia Karpenko, but Theodora spoke a bit too loudly and she was overheard by Ces, who butted into the conversation. “Maybe when you learn to play as well as you talk, you’ll start,” she said, towering over the smaller girl. At six five, Ces was the most physically imposing member of the squad other than Damir Dragovic-Courtial, who was an inch shorter but much more muscular and athletic. She was referring to the way Theodora was often a locker room leader who spoke eloquently and pumped up the team and their fans with her speeches, but despite this, she had never broken through to become a starter unless Ces was injured.

“Watch yourself,” snapped Theodora, as Ces pushed against the smaller girl and bumped her off of her path. It was unlike the taller girl to do this, as she usually had a strict code for her behavior that, according to her, kept her grounded, but the frustration of the loss was getting to everyone right now. Theodora kept walking, and Ces kept pushing her until she had bumped her into the wall, where she stood in front of her and pinned her there with her body. Everyone else stopped, watching silently as the two strikers faced off. “I can have your career ended in a minute,” Theodora blurted out, saying something that she really shouldn’t have. Her friends in Redvale had heavy connections throughout the Northern Isles, and while it was true that she could put a hit on Ces or sic the Nordskanian media on her, it wasn’t a good idea to advertise those facts.

“You will, eh? What are you going to do to me?” Ces asked, moving her hand to Theodora’s throat and squeezing hard. Antonius and Antonia were watching, but they didn’t interfere because they knew they had no chance in a fight against this giant. “Are you going to stand up for yourself or what? I’ll let you have the first punch. Come on. Prove to me that you’re a real woman and not just a stupid little girl.”

“Francesca, that’s enough!” snapped Julius, using her full name to show how serious he was. But even he wasn’t about to wrestle with someone who was five inches taller than him and much more muscular. “I know we’re all frustrated, but you’re way out of line. Walk away and take some time to calm down-”

“Come on,” said Ces, still holding Theodora by the throat and choking her rival out with one hand. “I’m not letting go until you hit me. You want to prove that you’re better than me? This is the time to do it-”

Theodora threw a weak punch at Ces, who quickly dodged it and responded by landing a hard left hook that caught Theodora on the temple and knocked her to the hard ground. She landed another pair of punches while Theodora was on the ground before Antonius finally stepped in and did his best to hold the large forward back. “C’mon, don’t be like that, Ces,” he said, holding onto her left arm. “I know you could beat Theo up if you wanted, but is that really the right thing to do? She’s tiny and you’re a giant, it’s an unfair fight. You need to be the bigger person here. Figuratively, not literally, I mean. You already are bigger than her-”

Ces threw Antonius off of her, standing over Theodora’s unconscious body and glancing towards Julius. “I’m very sorry, Chief,” she said, turning to him and bowing respectfully. “I don’t know what happened there, my temper got the best of me and I lost control for a few moments… I only wanted to rough her up, I didn’t want to hurt her-”

“Just stop talking, Francesca,” said Julius, sounding like he was a disappointed father who was looking at something bad that his daughter had done. “I can probably already say that you’re going to have to sit the next match for this, and maybe longer. We’ll decide when we have the next staff meeting, tomorrow. I’m not angry at you, I’m just really disappointed that you haven’t grown up at all since you joined our team. I thought you had gained some maturity from your time in Heiwa. Obviously, I was wrong.”

“But Chief-” started Ces, turning on the waterworks and letting tears flow down her cheeks. There was no doubt in Julius’ mind that those tears weren’t genuine, and that she had just learned how to cry on command to milk sympathy from others. Of everyone that had played for Nordskania over the last couple of cycles, Julius knew that Ces was the least mature. She was the one who never owned up for her mistakes or cared how her actions affected others. The fact that she showed this much emotion over her playing time and none at all when she was hurting one of her teammates was concerning.

“No buts,” Julius sighed, holding up a hand to gesture for her to shut up. “You should be glad that you’re getting off with a suspension and some mandatory visits to the psychologist. In some countries that are more strict with off the pitch conduct, you would never make another international appearance after doing something as bad as knocking out a rival teammate. Even at the club level, there’s many teams that would be done with you after what you did. There’s no more excuses, Ces. You’re a grown woman, not some kid, and you’ve proven yourself time and time again to be habitually immature. You’ve also proven time and time again that you only care about yourself. You’ve lied to your family and to multiple teammates about your career plans to keep them from bothering you, and now you’ve shown that you could care less about hurting your teammates because of a petty argument. If Antonius hadn’t stepped in, you were going to keep hitting Theodora while she was unconscious. You don’t care about the damage that could do, just about looking tough-”

“She threatened me and said she would end my career,” Ces pleaded, as the others watched. Their star center fielder was unraveling before their eyes, as more tears ran down her cheeks and she gestured emphatically, trying to prove the point. “I didn’t mean to keep hitting her, I was just so angry that I couldn’t control myself-”

“You’re full of shit, Ces,” Antonius stated. “Those extra blows were completely intentional. You were trying to break something so she would be out of commission for the rest of our matches, since she’s your main competition. Just own up to it and stop making excuses like you always do.”

“I’m sorry,” Ces said again, before turning and running into the locker room and leaving the others behind. So that was that. This team didn’t handle losing and playing badly well, and now their tempers were flaring as a result. Julius could just hope that they would continue their pattern of bouncing back with wins, before things fell apart completely at the seams. They were so close, yet so far, from being a legitimate contender to go to the World Cup. And now, that was getting into the heads of just about everyone.

=====

Antonius was faced with a situation where he needed courage. Natasha Grekov was surrounded with her older friends: Arkadi Zima, Leandro Besic, Alek Brzic, Grace Aguilar. Those five liked to break away from the rest of the locker room and hang out as their own little group, where they often staged pictures with each other for social media and had private conversations about the rest of the team, that Antonius knew were filled with gossip. Arkadi was Natasha’s cousin and could be quite intimidating to a younger player, and Grace Aguilar and Leandro Besic were both popular and well marketed players who were viewed as distant by the younger members of the squad. Alek was more down to earth, but even he was much older than Antonius.

It would be awkward to approach the group and try to impress Natasha, but it was what Julius wanted Antonius to do and it was what he had spent the last three or so days preparing to do. “Go get your girl,” his twin sister told him, slapping him on the back and forcing him to stand up from one of the benches to go across the visitor’s locker room to the side where Natasha’s group was waiting. This was already more awkward than he intended, as Natasha already saw him coming and watched him the whole time as he made his walk across the room. Maybe he should turn back. She was seven years older, after all. He had been right when he said that the age gap would make it awkward. And Antonius wasn’t used to doing things like this. He was more of a quiet passive observer than someone who was good at impressing others with his social skills. It was too late to turn back, though.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, he was standing across the room where Natasha’s friends were gathered around her, looking at something that she was showing them on her phone. “Hey…” he tried to say, but his voice trailed off. None of them looked up. “Hey,” he repeated, and they still didn’t notice. His hands were shaking and his forehead was sweating and his face war turning a bit red by now, and he was losing his voice. “Um… I have something I want to say. Or ask,” he finally said, and Natasha looked up.

Her cold grey eyes seemed to pierce his soul, and now her other friends were starting to look up. She pocketed her phone, and cocked her head to the side as she studied his face. Everything felt like it was happening much slower, now. Natasha was staring straight at Antonius, and Arkadi was eyeing him up too, and Grace looked like she was miffed that he had interrupted their gossiping. Arkadi imitated him the most. He was shirtless right now, showing both the muscles of his chest and abs and the tattoos that decorated his body. And Antonius knew that as a cousin of Natasha, he would be protective of her. “Uh…”

“What is it, kid?” asked Natasha, sounding like she was about to say something cutting. But she stopped, at least for now. He couldn’t tell if it was because she genuinely wanted to be nice, or because she didn’t want to get on the bad side of the manager’s grandson. Everyone else was glaring at Antonius for interrupting, but Natasha kept a straight face and waited patiently for his voice to return.

“I wanted to ask you if you want to go on a date with me, or something,” Antonius finally muttered. He expected an immediate reaction, but nothing happened, and that was because he had spoken so quietly that they couldn’t hear him.

“You what?”

“I think you’re the most beautiful girl in the world and I really enjoy being around you even though we haven’t hung out much, and I admire your popularity and leadership and I really enjoy your personality and I want to ask if you want to go on a date with me because of that,” Antonius blurted out, saying all of that in a few seconds. That wasn’t how he wanted it to come out, but he had resorted to using every point from Julius’ notes at once to try to impress her. She was supposedly a narcissist, which meant she really liked it when someone complimented her looks and personality and made her the center of attention. She also was an alpha personality, and according to the psychologist’s evaluation of her, it made her extremely happy when someone remarked positively on her popularity or her leadership traits. While most girls would see through such an obvious attempt at making things up to impress someone, Natasha just smiled. Antonius was sure that she was distracted by the attention.

“You know that I’m seven years older, don’t you?” she asked, still smiling. “That’s really cute that you asked, though. You remind me of Arkadi when he went steady with his girlfriend-”

“Um, I also brought you something,” said Antonius, who had completely forgotten about the box in his hand. He opened it up, showing her the silver necklace that was inside. It wasn’t gold, but it was still nice and Antonia had given it to him to give to Natasha, because she wasn’t the type of girl to wear jewelry. She had supposedly gotten it from some ex boyfriend, and according to her, it would be better off with Natasha than her.

“Silver, not gold?” chuckled Natasha, but despite her verbal reaction, her eyes showed that she was somewhat impressed. “Like I said, this is all really cute. What makes you think I want to go out with someone that’s basically a kid, though? Even if you’re a Karpenko, you’re still only eighteen.”

“Uh… Sorry…”

“No, I’m just messing with you, kid. You seem nice, I don’t mind taking you out to town and seeing where it leads us,” Natasha said, reaching out and pulling him into her inner circle of friends. “And also, no matter what happens between us, you’re welcome to hang out with me and my posse. You’ve got huevos, and we like people like you. Right, guys?”

The others grumbled responses that ranged from grudging acceptance to annoyance. Arkadi made eye contact with Antonius, and then made a throat cutting gesture with his hand that told Antonius that he had seen straight through his little ‘proposal’. Arkadi probably assumed that Antonius only wanted to be with Natasha because she was a Grekov and because dating a Grekov worked wonders for someone’s social standing, and while Antonius didn’t have one hundred percent pure intentions, that wasn’t his motivation at all. All the boy could do was look away nervously. Natasha had her arm around him and was looking in the other direction, smiling and chuckling with Alek about something while Arkadi and Grace looked like they were ready to murder the boy on the spot. This turned out to be more interesting than Antonius, or Julius for that matter, had ever planned.

[Taeshan]

The Purple Knights had yet to get more than a point in a home game, but on the road in their one match they had won, and their second matchup was against another team that wasn't exactly known for being a world beater in Huelavia. For the Purple Knights this is another chance to get some crucial road points, and keep the pace with those in front of them. With Chromatika the lone team undefeated through four matchdays the Knights were still well within striking distance of second place with both Krytenia and Red Blackiland having dropped points on one of their previous matchdays.

It was another brilliant day for a football game and the Purple Knights were wearing their road green jerseys for their visit to Huelavia. The two nations had met once before in a U21 tilt and that was really the only scouting opportunity that the Purple Knights had previous to the qualifiers for the lower ranked side. The Knights knew to be wary about the team as they were one of the closer teams to the Knights in the ranks and they didn't want to be on the wrong side of an unlucky game. The Knights were set up defensively to not let in goals, and Miles Snavely was starting his first match in weeks and seemed 100 percent for the first time all season.

The match was a very testy one early on with both teams wishing to not let in an early goal, but also try to push the idea of an early goal. The Knights defense seemed the more sure early on but the Knights offense seemed unable to push to get much of a scoring chance in the first minutes of the game. The first half really went that way for much of the first half and truly for much of the game. The Knights really were the better side throughout the first half but much like their hosts were unable to get much more than a weak shot across goal and honestly both sides looked destined for a tie as they headed into the half.

The Knights brought in some changes early on in the second half with Wilhelm Quinones and Tavon Greenshire coming on to replace Anton Vader and Everett Eskandarian on the wings at about the hour mark. Both midfielders came in and rejuvenated the midfield and brought speed that the two players had slowly been tapering off into the second half. Eventually this speed would be too much for the Huelavia side as they brought in some help defensively after a few shots across the bow of the Huelavia goal definitely made it seem like the Purple Knights could push to get all the spoils from the days game.

Eventually the goal would come as Miles Snavely put through Landon van Neymar who forced the Huelavia goalie into a save, but the rebound landed right at the feet of Quinones who pounced and put the ball in the back of the net for his first goal for the national team. After that the Knights spent the last 15 minutes with barely a chance upon their goal and they did end up bringing in Torsten Abigail who sat behind the other two center backs and really forced the defensive issue, and ultimately the Purple Knights won the full points from the nights affair and keeping them tied for 3rd in the Group 1 table after 4 games.

[Tinhampton]

Tinhampton Airways - flight THA-193 - 20:16 Tinhampton Time - 10th February 2017:
Reece Ford: You know what, miss? I'm getting a bit bored, travelling all that way back home. I think it's quite apt that we're facing Boring Paradise next. Any videos?
Stewardess: We're short of cash in the entertainment department. The best item I could buy from the duty-free shop was The Olympic Massacre: 25 Years On. It's about Tinhampton; very good short documentary by the TBS, about 28 minutes long. Must have been a good thing we were playing - you'd have to pick from a selection of low-quality 80s movies from Equilism otherwise. The Baker of Naivetry, A Most Westwindian Coup, The Light That Shines Beyond - you know the ones.
Reece Ford: Thanks muchly for that. If I'm not mistaken, I play a crucial role here...

Narrator: The eighteenth of August, 1991, was supposed to be the eighth day of competition at the Fifteenth Multiversal Olympiad in Glen-Rhodes. Instead, it turned out to be a day of mourning, not just in Grand Port, but in the entire sporting world.
At eleven o'clock at the Olympic Village, shortly after the end of the 1,500 metres race (where Reece Ford finished sixth), a group of terrorists from Absentius stormed the Tinhamptonian block, executing all in sight. Only two survived - Mr Ford, and renowned tennis player Lydia Anderson, who is now Mayor of Tinhampton. As we remember the 118 Tinhamptonians brutally executed by Absentiusian terrorists, we remember the vast diversity of incidents that culminated in what was then the most fatal terrorist attack ever seen in the South Pacific.

TITLE SLIDE: "THE OLYMPIC MASSACRE: 25 Years On"

Narrator: Before we start this documentary proper, it is important to recall the background to this story. The Commonwealth of Glen-Rhodes was always famous for its loose immigration laws... laws promoted by the Rhodesian Bid Committee, which helped it win out over bids submitted by Riemstagrad, Omigodtheykilledkenny, and Drasnia. In the final round on Halloween 1985, Grand Port had won out against Paradise City by 15,000 votes. As a result, the Kennyites boycotted the Olympics immediately, followed by a boycott across the Antarctic Oasis.
Further controversy was to be sparked up in December 1990, when Worldview 1990 results were leaked. The outcome of the surveys? That Glen-Rhodes had a negative tally in the World Census' Total War Preparedness Rating, which measures national defense forces. As a result, the Rhodesians called in a trans-Pacific defence force, which has only recently been delclassified by the Government. Whilst this was occuring, the nation's famously strong intelligence agency managed to trace back the leakers of the documents to hackers in Absentius - a nation that would be key later on.
Miklos Kanellis, President of Glen-Rhodes: No, I could not believe what I saw when I watch the files. To complain about our nation, that is one thing, but to threaten "blood across your blue-white flag" when the Olympics were being held? This, for me, was only to strengthen the need of a strong Feederite defence force.
Narrator: The Rhodesian delegation to the then-United Nations in its second incarnation were outspoken International Federalists, regularly calling for the repeal of UN Resolution 9, Convention on Defense, which passed in dramatic fashion in 1957 and which outlawed the creation of a UN-wide army, making the job harder. Despite this, the Pacifican Defence Accords were passed - against their wishes, but grudgingly accepted - in April 1991, just when the job was to be handed solely to the nation.
Reece Ford: I personally felt happy when I learned that there was to be extra security. Yes, there might have been a couple of traitors, but it was all for the best. Confidence in our team peaked when we learned about these deals, but we didn't know what was coming.
Lydia Anderson: If you had to compile a list of the world's 100 best tennis players as of the start of the 90s, I would not have been there. Sure, I may have been better in the previous decade, but I was not exactly the best. I was planning on retiring a few years later, perhaps delve into my passion of conservative politics, but even that was a bit doubtful.
Narrator: Despite a few more hurdles to jump, the Rhodesians were determined to put on a good show - as President Miklos Kanellis proclaimed, "the greatest show in the South Pacific". The nation that was otherwise only famous for its authoring of 17 UN resolutions in 1977, as well as one of the world's great Book Publishing industries, was set to prepare for the event of a lifetime.
President Kanellis: We were a fairly modest but influential nation, never the most famous other than for a few strange events, but it was our hope, our dream even, that we would succeed in doing this.

Narrator: Absentius was a notoriously devout Muslim nation, one of the Rejected Realms' more recognised ones. It was also a hot-bed of terrorism, with small movements cropping up across the nation. Despite this, there was no proscribed grouping more dangerous than the Soldiers of Allah - a movement with a deep hatred for almost every nation in the world, even their own, despite allegations that they were a state-funded terrorist group.
Fred Jackson AM (UCP), Minister for Foreign Affairs (1989-1995): You could have watched a single video of theirs, and it would be the single most horrendous thing you could watch in our life. It was so violent, so, so violent, that it would be banned by the film classification authorities based on the gore alone. That some people even managed to bear it and become a Soldier of Allah is unthinkable!
Narrator: 1991 was the most productive year in the short history of the Soldiers, with gains financial, physical and audio-visual. Although a Unibotian bank robbery on the 14th of May led to the loss of 37 million Eduards and over 60 lives, they were not prepared to stop yet, targeting the next most notable nation with an International Federalist delegation - the nation that happened to host the Olympics.
Fred Jackson: OK, so these so-called Soldiers were mainly interested in attacks on nations which supported greater powers to the United Nations. It was doubtful that we could be targeted, but we were on the lookout. There was always a fierce rivalry between your NatSovs and your IntFeds, but these Soldiers attacked in a unique style, which nobody could stop. Not even asset freezes could prevent the bombing of one of our polling stations in the March elections!
Narrator: With the Olympics approaching, the Soldiers substantially toned down their attacks - the deadliest shooting in the world in July 1991 involved 17 Sedgistanis being shot dead by a lone wolf, who was later apprehended in custody in neighbouring Crazy girl. Despite this, the Rhodesians were also lacking in police, although there were hopes that the PDA would keep the nation safe.
President Kanellis: I could swear that we would be safe, but the terrorists, they had different ideas. They wanted purity at first, then annihilation of our kind, supporters of the United Nations. This was especially concerning to those that supported greater powers, and even to the moderate sovereigntists.
Narrator: AFTER THE BREAK: Now you know the backstory, be prepared to be taken on a deep and dark ride - how exactly did the Soldiers of Allah managed to kill so many?

AD BREAK: Actual ads in the TV version, but just promotions for up-coming shows on the DVD version.

Narrator: On the night of the twelfth of August, 1991, the Olympics Opening Ceremony occurred - a spectacle of Rhodesian culture, not to mention being somewhat politically charged. It attracted criticism from National Sovereignists, but the Soldiers kept away - their leader bluntly stating that "we prefer to keep secret."
Reece Ford: Everybody in the team camp was happy that night. We had to go to sleep at 3am or something like that, but none of us were prepared for what was coming. Clearly we must have had a false sense of security then. I think we only ever saw a few security guards in our first week. This led me thinking: Why should I be living in an Olympic Village where security guards didn't even bother to go to Floor 12?
Lydia Anderson: Given the strong culture, I suspect that the World Census was right: our biggest nemesis at the time was the weather. It was generally raining for most of the time, and it's amazing we got to play anything at all. For a short while, I was the main focus, if the laughing stock of the media the world over - I doubted that I would ever live down my slip-up when I only needed a few successful serves to win. Mind you, I did succeed, but they never forgave me. I thought that it would be washed away (so to speak) by politics, if I was to be that lucky.
Narrator: As it turned out, Tinhampton were expectedly poor, winning only three bronze medals and one silver. However, hopes remained high on the morning of that fateful Sunday.
Reece Ford: We had a few players that refused to partake on the Sunday, or only played for fear of being chucked out. However, it was impossible to deny that we had a fair few important events occuring that day. The Soldiers of Allah? We didn't even care about them. The Tinhamptonians learned more about how "crescunt" wasn't a Latin swear word than we did about terrorism and how to stop it.
Lydia Anderson: We both had late-night matchups - my match with Angela Barber of Improving Wordiness at about 9 o'clock, Reece's 1,500 metre race at 10 o'clock. The Rhodesians run four hours behind us, which meant that only the hardiest of Tinhamptonians were expected to watch at home.

Narrator: Both matches were supposed to end at 10:10pm, just before the Soldiers intended to breach security and kill the rest of the Tinhamptonians - both players and coaches, indiscriminately. However, by quirks of fate, both matches were delayed due to rain - it took a while to get the roof up at the Grand Port Arena, whilst the rain kept on pouring for an hour at the Olympic Stadium.
Lydia Anderson: I had to fight my way through the match with Angela, only winning after about 100 minutes and a narrow sudden-death round or whatever you call it - I've been less of a tennis fan these days. It was narrow and I won out, but I had to walk back to the Village. I was in the middle seat of the car that broke down and was meant to take me back. At the time, I was seriously considering cursing my luck then. It took me about half an hour to get there, but I was shocked at what I saw.
Reece Ford: The rain just kept on pouring and pouring and pouring, and it was doing that for the past couple of hours. The race didn't even start until about five minutes to eleven. I was pumped up and ready to go once the rain had been cleared up. I was only just aware of what had happened when I returned.
Narrator: So, what exactly had happened? As it contrived, the main security guard (who originated from Flemingovia) told all in his 1994 account of the event, A Lucky but Unfortunate Escape. He stated that he was having a late-night sandwich when he heard a small voice speak in a language he did not understand. Owen Benson stated that "it was only my Flemingovial Hymn Book that stood between the mysterious man in black and my death." Various other statements - including from Ford and Anderson - were also published. It was a bestseller in the nation for almost a year.
However, in the immediate aftermath of the event, only limited CCTV footage was available, which showed the unidentified Soldier of Allah kick down various doors and kill the inhabitants, who were still wide awake. It took him about half an hour - between 10:40 and 11:15 at night - to conduct this. In addition to killing all 118 Tinhamptonians in the Village, he also executed each of the eight people in the canteen queue at Floor 10. It took the Grand Port Police Department years to find out what happened; the results were published within a few days of the release of A Lucky but Unfortunate Escape.
Reece Ford: It was about seventeen minutes past eleven then, when I saw the terrorist shoot wildly at me. He avoided hitting me, and he was soon executed after being extradited back to Absentius, but the death and destruction he reaped upon our squad was simply unbelievable. They shut down Floor 12, and we had to live in a spare room on the floor above. The occupants were not happy about this, and left the Olympics.
Lydia Anderson: I had only just arrived when I noticed a man wearing all black firing at me. He didn't hit me, although I felt it whooshing past, and he later hid behind a storage container before noticing Reece's arrival - I think, but I'm not sure - but he was taken away sooner or later. As for the chaplaincy meeting I was meant to have, I had to do it with the Electrumites. There were a handful of them, but I grew up to love them. We're supposed to be able to do our own trade deals soon, and if I'm still in office, Electrum is on the top of my list. For the record, I was beaten in the quarter-finals.

Narrator: It was a tragedy. 126 people killed, overtaking the Fudgetopian Airlines flight 584 downing, which killed 124 South Pacificans in 1976. The greatest terrorist attack in the South Pacific's history, and one that led to a day of mourning in Glen-Rhodes. All events were pushed back a day, and the Tinhamptonians that were meant to be in competition were removed after their death (following Olympic protocol), but the sports world was saddened. How could such an insignificant sports team be so vulnerable to attack?
Well, the Soldiers of Allah operated under a regime of "purity and extermination" - first executing the NatSovs in IntFed lands (and vice versa), before removing native IntFeds from their homelands and taking them to Absentius, where death awaited them. The grief poured out was stunning, and could fill up a documentary or three in itself. However, here are some highlights:
Angela Barber, Anderson's opponent on the Sunday: Today, a terror attack shook not just Tinhampton and Glen-Rhodes, but the world. I feel sorry for the small city, but I am personally appalled at how a controversial terrorist group could attack such a tiny delegation so quickly. This does not look like the attack of a lone wolf.
President Kanellis: Today is a sorry day for the entire world. 118 Tinhamptonians, and eight others, mercilessly killed at the hands of a terrorist group. We need a plan, and we need to strengthen it. From now on, there will be no more terrorists entering the nation - we will implement a sturdy scheme to keep the evildoers out.
Daniel Welsh, the only Olympian from Evil Wolf: Many people have a misconception, that the nations with high defense force statistics are among the worst possible people you can see; ruthlessly taking down innocent regions and flooding them with raider delegates. However, the attack on Tinhampton shows that the real bad guys are the people that have intentions to kill athletes who come in the name of peace for no reason whatsoever. We stand with you, Tinhampton.
Sammy Faisano, President of Omigodtheykilledkenny: You want to know how much of a literal bullet we dodged here? Our concerns about safety and security in the South Pacific have proven us undoubtedly correct! Of course, this is the obligatory message of solidarity with these Tinhampton people I've never even heard of until now. And now onto the more important issues of the day, like how we dodged another bullet by not claiming responsibility for this s--t...
Narrator: The Soldiers of Allah continued on their terrorist trails, reportedly killing thousands in the early 1990s. However, a crackdown soon followed, quickly spreading across the world. By the time the Soldiers disbanded in 1998, the damage was done, but preventative measures active across the world helped to prevent substantial spread of terrorist ideologies in states with a combined population of hundreds of trillions.
On the 15th anniversary of the attack, Anderson - now Deputy Mayor of Tinhampton - proclaimed a simple message, one that holds true even today: "Our men and women have been heartlessly massacred, but we have remained resilient, then and now. As we come together on the anniversary of this sad day, there are two words we must remember as we hold our values sacred: Never again."

Reece Ford: I knew I was famous... but I never knew I was that famous! Must help, being the team's grumpy old fart. Still can't believe I scored from 25 yards out...

NOTE: Based on this post by Absentius. "The above nation" refers to Tinhampton.

[Northern Sunrise Islands]

The nurse walked through the trees, searching for Sunrise. She had a fair memory of his appearance, having watched his first World Cup final bout.
While he remembered that as a thing of the past, she could swear it was just a week ago, hence her memories still very fresh.
She finally saw someone walking on the distance. The long gray jacket and the rather fancy arm guard gave it out.
He had to be the one she was looking for.
She started to yell for him, managing to catch his attention until she tripped over a Bulbasaur, hurting him a bit while she fell flat on the ground.
"Ow..."
As she started to get up, the Bulbasaur seemed decided to hit her back only for a Fire Blast knock the wild Pokémon out.
Sunrise threw a Pokéball at it, catching the Pokémon.
"...You called?"
He picked up the Pokéball, before helping the nurse back up.
"Ugh... I think I hurt my leg..."
"Hm. Here."
He handed her a little gel he had on his backpack.
"Pass it over the part of your leg in pain. Meanwhile, you could explain why you yelled my name."
She nodded, using the gel while sitting down over a log.
"We've found a little girl named Qasden, she said she's your daughter."
"She's... not, but I understand."
"She said Chromatika wasn't around."
"You know Chrom?"
"...Yeah, sadly. Anyway, she's on the way to the train station, I suggest you go there as well."
"Uh... and you?"
"I'll be fine... Just need to... sigh... contemplate some life choices."

Kitsunia watched closely as one of the Pokémon Center's staff members treated the Milotic.
Kirisaki was by her side but clearly wasn't very interested.
"This is soooo boring!"
"There's much more to being a Pokémon Trainer. You need to treat your Pokémon, per example."
"But it's boring!"
"Well, do you care about your Pokémon?"
"I... I do."
"Then can it. They're living beings as well."
She looked down to find the Pikachu she had loaned from Sunrise. The Pikachu felt weak, her eyes closing.
Kirisaki got up from her chair, the Pikachu on her hands.
"Do you get it?"
"Y-yes. Let's go, Pikachu. You need some rest!"
Just as she left, a certain little girl dashed into the room, jumping at Kitsunia's lap.
"Mommy!"
"Ah, Qasden! How are you?"
"I lost my Custardy brother!"
"Custody, dear."
"So, I take you're Kitsunia."
The Doctor followed Qasden, looking at the young woman.
"Never thought I'd have a hard time walking such an easy path."
"Did she gave you a lot of trouble, sir...?"
"Doctor. And she kicked my shins three times."
"I'm sowwy, sir!"
"Ahem... Same."
"It's fine. I'm just doing the right thing."

Sunrise, Kitsunia and Qasden waited at a bench on the Pokémon Center.
"So, where did you lose Chrom?"
"...In the forest!"
"Huh."
"Well, that was expected. But any chance you can tell it a bit better?"
"We walked a bit inside, I looked at a Fearow and then he wasn't there anymore!"
"Huh."
"I don't know why you're bothering with him, Sunrise."
"Kitsunia!"
"He always find his way back, even if we don't want him to do so."
"..."
"I think it's time someone has to go look for him."
The three looked behind the bench, finding Kirisaki with her traditional armor and a sword at hand.
"...How did you-"
"Secrets of the best Shining Moon warrior ever."
"He's old enough, he could find his way back-"
"I need to re-pay your fine attitude."
"Then cook us dinner or something, I don't mind-"
"I refer to Sunrise."
"Well... To be fair, I think we should wait for a bit."
Sunrise looked to the forest, waiting.
"He'll show up."

[Mercedini]

World Cup MD4: Mercedini vs. Schutzenphalia and West Ruhntuhnkuhnland LIVE
@ Zoloroni Sports City Stadium - Zoloroni, Mercedini

Mercedini enjoyed their biggest win in World Cup 77 Qualifying thus far at they thrashed lowly-ranked Schutzenphalia and West Ruhntuhnkuhnland 5-1 in front of the Mercedinian fans at the Zoloroni Sports City Stadium. The win sees Mercedini hold onto their 100% record in qualifying with four wins out of four and a maximum twelve points thus far. They did top of the group which has caused shockwaves throughout the group and beyond as World Cup veterans such as Vilita, Savalen and West Angola have all already dropped points against teams such as Kernovi and Kitsunia-Deesse, opening the door for Mercedini to slip through and lead the group at this early stage. As the score-line suggests, the match was fairly one sided with many chances for Mercedini in the opening half, giving them a commanding lead as they went in for half-time. Mercedini managed to finish the game strong to record another victory but the match wasn't without concerns. The four matches that Mercedini have played and won have all bee high scoring affairs, the concern is that Mercedini have yet to record a clean sheet and have relied on their attackers to bail them out and score more than the other team. That was the case in the opening game against Kitsunia-Deesse and was definitely the case against Savalen where they ran out 4-3 victors two match days ago. Let's relive the action with a brief round up of all the goings on today at the Zoloroni Sports City Stadium:

A floodlit pitch and an overcast night set the stage for both teams as they walked out into the 60,000-seater cauldron. The home stadium of Mercedini had been a happy hunting ground for the Golden Eagles thus far, recording a win in the lone match it has hosted in qualifying which was the frantic 4-3 win against Savalen. The Mercedinian team picked up where they left off with energetic attacking play from the youngsters and maturity along with astute play from the older players in the team. It didn't take long for the team to get a foothold in the game as Sgt. Sam Billic got the opening goal in the game, as he has many many times before. Crasic found space down the wing to run into and made it towards the by-line, he beat his defender and sprinted into the into the box and squared the ball to the waiting Myrmidon-man who simply slotted the ball into the net from about four-yards out. It was all to easy for the opening goal. Schutzenphalia had some chances of their own, with a shot coming from just outside the box, the ball beat the keeper but it also beat the post as it rolled narrowly wide. A few moments later, Mercedini made them pay with a goal from Noah Park. After a long spell in possession, Mercedini earned themselves a corner which they took full advantage of. A corner which was whipped in with pace was met by the head of Park, there was a defender on the post but somehow the ball squeezed it's way between the defender's head and the bar, ending up in the top corner of the goal. The Mercedinians were celebrating, they were 2-0 up after only twenty-five minutes. The scoreline stayed the same for most of the half with Schutzenphalia finally learning some of their lesson defensively and pushing forward in order to reduce the deficit in the game. Mercedini arguably killed the game off with minutes left in the first half with a third goal and a first World Cup Qualification goal of Ross Presic. A free-kick was whipped in but the players tried to perform the offside trap against the Mercedinian attackers but it wasn't executed properly but the defenders as Billic picked the ball up about 7 yards away from the goal, he and Presic were is acres of space and he squared the ball to the young winger who tapped the ball into the open net for the third goal. Miscommunication from the Schutzenphalian defence cost them the third goal. after a couple of minutes of static action the referee blew his whistle with Mercedini 3-0 up going into half time.

The teams came back out for the second half with Schutzenphalia having it all to do to grab something from this game. Mercedini were confident, the fans were happy and cheering and the manager was looking calm as ever. The referee blew his whistle to start the second half with a roar around the stadium. The passing was confident and free and even the visiting players were joining in on the trickery with some tricks and flicks to excite the crowds. Mercedini scored a fourth just after the hour mark thanks to a penalty converted by Billic. Chillotov was hauled down in the box and the referee immediately blew the whistle and pointed to the spot, Billic blasted the spot kick to his right for his second and his nation's fourth, putting clear daylight between them and their opponents. The score was 4-0 and it was only then when Schutzenphalia finally woke up to get a goal back. A sublimely worked goal with worked it's way past the Mercedinian defence and finished with a side-foot which guided the ball through the legs of Hosset and into the net. The Schutzenphalians had something to take home with them on their long trip home. The game was finished and Chillotov finally got the goal that he deserved. An expertly taken shot which was blasted from twenty yard and found the bottom corner to more than finish of their opponents. Mercedini were enjoying themselves but time is a thing so the match had to end. Mercedini ran out 5-1 victors and have plenty of momentum going into their huge game against Vilita.

FULL TIME
Mercedini 5 - 1 Schutzenphalia and West Ruhntuhnkuhnland
Billic 11', 62' (P), Park 25', Presic 44', Chillotov 86' | unknown 73'

[Savojarna]

SavojarSports.sj - inside reports from all Savojarna
VICTORY! Savojarna gets first three-pointer of WCC History

Sjoedrhavn, VH - It was the fourth match of the campaign, the third one at home, and it was the one that sent the Stadion Bjurman into overdrive. A sold out stadium watched and cheered louder than ever before as Savojarna wrestled down the team of Great Caledonia and North Hybernia to achieve its first ever victory in a WCC-sanctioned event. The win was a display of purely authentic Savojar qualities: Persistence, strength, solidarity and courage. The match required some patience from the team, but eventually ended in the best possible way. Going into the match, Savojarna was pushed back again by the Celts in a way that we had feared after the losses against Brenecia and Eastfield Lodge, honourable as they may have been. But they held up thanks to Jarnström and a bit of luck, and eventually the break came. It allowed the Savojars to reconsider their tactics and to pull their act together, until they were able to return much stronger and hold Caledonia and Hybernia away from their goal for longer. Eventually, the right changes were made and it was a substitute with Niklas Hoyberg who could find Karjanen on the fast break. Perttu Karjanen was faster than his opponents and could get the long pass by Hoyberg, getting into a one-on-one and shot the ball to the bottom left corner without any chance for O'Byrne in the Caledonian goal.

In the first half, though, it looked much more as if the slightly more experienced Caledonians would be able to take a lead. Usually, both teams play a controlled game operating from a deep stance, but the Savojars seemed shy and held on to their defensive mindset from the Brenecia game. What was appropriate against the World's number 10 proved slightly less effective against Caledonia. We got pushed back unnecessarily and were unable to get the fast paced attacks going for which we are famous. Mortensson tried to get an early sign to the Caledonians, but his shot in the 8th minute bounced off a defender's leg and ended up in a corner which was easily saved by O'Byrne. Great Caledonia attacked fervently and pushed for an opening, taking advantage of what seemed like unwillingness to join the offense on the Savojar's part. The captain, Anton, had the biggest chance of the opening phase when he dribbled past the slightly too slow Metanov and took a shot, but Jarnström could block it and Petter Samuelsson cleared the ball over the sidelines. Goal scenes were rare in the first half, and the biggest chance came when Caledonian striker Kevin O'Maoilsheachlainn stood alone in front of Jarnström. However, the linesman called him back for an offside, and the review showed that he was indeed right by a very narrow margin. The event seemed to shock the Savojar defense, which was very aware that had he not been whistled back, he'd have scored almost for sure. In the first half, Savojarna then mainly kept on defending, our best chance being a distance shot by Nyborg about half a metre off the left post.

Past the half time break, Savojarna had come out of the locker room a lot more bold and was now looking for chances themselves. They now also added more speed to their offensive game thanks to the replacement of the overly careful Joonas Andersson by Nick Hoyman, and the CASK midfielder was eventually the one to prepare the decisive goal by Karjanen. But we were not there yet, and while Savojarna was now able to use their counter-attack abilities, they still had to face Caledonian pressure. One of the most dangerous moments of the entire game was when a cross by McGivern went past O'Maoilsheachlainn and it became painfully obvious that Fernando had been forgotten in the box. The Portuguese-born could rip off a volley almost completely alone, and it was only thanks to a brilliant reflex by Jarnström and a slight miscalculation by Cristiano Fernando that the goal could be avoided. After a bit over an hour, Savojarna received another counter when Hoyman opened the game with a pass to Mortensson and he was looking for Hytönen. But instead of the midfielder, he only found the leg of Tearlach MacEachthighearna, who had knocked him off balance and down onto the ground. The referee instantly blew the whistle and handed the defender a yellow card, giving Patrik Andersen the golden chance to score with a free kick about 27 m from the goal, his preferred distance. He beautifully twisted it around the wall of the Celts, but instead of the back of the net, he found the fingertips of Jennifer O'Byrne. She had deflected the ball just over the crossbar and therefore caused a corner kick. The following header by Metanov was saved quite easily and the game remained tied. It required about ten more minutes of suffering until the described pass to Karjanen and the following shot past the Caledonian keeper finally happened. Savojarna then did what we always knew they are good at and brought the game home, winning their first qualification match in history.

For the next game, the Savojars will face Anglatia in an away game. This will be a very interesting game after the win of the Savojar team in the Copa Rushmori, for which the Anglatian team certainly will want revenge. Of course they are to be favoured in a home game against Savojarna given the vast ranking difference between our nations, but we have seen many times that Savojarna never lacks courage, and that good things do come to the courageous. The team will be more than ready to make a big one stumble in Anglatia, and there will be an interesting game next weekend on TSJ2. Kick-off is at 18:00 Sjoedrhavn time, and we are looking forward to this amazing game. You can follow it live on TV, on our web stream or through our live ticker on this page. Let's go, Savojarna!

Savojarna 1-0 Great Caledonia and North Hybernia (0-0)

SAVOJARNA: Jarnström - Mitrovic, Samuelsson, Metanov (74' Nemanyev), Nurkanen - Andersen, Andersson (46' Hoyberg), Orlov, Mortensson - Nyborg (63' Hytönen) - Karjanen.
GREAT CALEDONIA & NORTH HYBERNIA: O'Byrne - Johnstone, MacEachthighearna, Winchester, McQueen - Kirk (62' O'Donnghaile) - McGivern, Anton, Fernando, Dunlop (78' Heemskerk) - O'Maoilsheachlainn (85' Ferguson).
GOALS: 71' Karjanen 1-0 (Hoyberg).
YELLOW CARDS: 14' Mitrovic, 39' Winchester, 62' MacEachthighearna (all foul).
RED CARDS: -

[Mriin]

"You know I'm more comfortable on the line for plays like this." Joren grimaced, the pressure of the of the deafening crowd starting to gnaw at him. "You're sure you want to do this?"

Janna was bouncing in place, instead drawing energy as the roar of the Mriinian contigent in the stands going wild at the last-(four)-minute(s) chance to tie the game mixed with the Flardanians desperately cheering for their side to hang on to the smallest lead they've had so far in qualifiers. "Absolutely. You're our best kicker for set pieces, but you're also one of the best we have for converting them. There's four minutes left; we don't have time to fuck around with me or Yvonne trying to slide one past the Flardanian defenders. I'll get that ball where it needs to be, and we need you to be there; Solara can't break a line like this on her own."

He glanced over at Don on the sidelines, who gave a solemn nod. "...fine. Let's salvage a point out of this."

"That's the spirit!" And with that, she bolted off to get ready for the inbound.

Joren shook out out his legs and cracked his neck while taking up his position a few paces behind Solara. It'd been a long time since he'd been in a goal mosh like this, but he couldn't deny he had a history of glory in the box... even if that'd been before the accident broke up his career.

With everyone in place--Joren absent mindedly wondered if Fujisaka, standing nearby, was a man or woman--Janna lined up and blasted the ball into the mass of players.

It came in too high and too hot for Nguyen to interfere with it--all she could do was watch is it landed perfectly on Solara's upper torso, leaned back so that it popped straight backwards in the air, Fujisaka caught flat-footed by the sudden height gain. But Joren had been tracking it right off of Janna's foot, and was already off the ground.

Tomo, in the net, did not miss that--but seemed to hesitate, as if they'd seen the footage of the trick "header" Solara had done to secure the win over Tomikosan, and was worried commiting too early would just invite more Satyr trickery. But Joren wasn't looking to do anything fancy. He only became a technical player after his studies in university, and right then he was channeling The Brute force of his youth. He smashed the flat of his forehead directly into the ball, no horn contact at all, spiking it past Tomo's far too late flail.

And with that, a silence more deafening than the earlier chants washed over the stadium. The Mriinian fans were going crazy, of course, and they're not a quiet bunch--but it was overshadowed by a strange feeling, like not just the Flardanian crowd, but the whole city shut down. A Grim Reminder of the Kitsunes' mortality, perhaps--that even if they're recognized as one of the better sides in the world, they're not yet elite. A lesson they may have well learned already by listening to the national team's manager, who had been doing a great deal to temper expectations, but their explosive first two games--it's understandably difficult to contain the hype when an offense scores eleven goals across two games, and having that hype shattered by a team barely peeking below 200th in the world rankings is never going to be pleasant.

The Flardanians hadn't rolled over quite yet, but their final drive definitely didn't the energy they started with--and that first drive failed in four minutes. So when they barely managed a decent shot at the whistle, Zilia was well prepared and hauled it in to confirm the miracle away upset point for Mriin.

---

Maal Memoirs
Sports

Mriin Rolls Over Group Punching Bag

Lia Fester
Somewhere in Turkmenbasyn

Turkmenbasyn has not been having a good time in the World Cup Qualifiers so far. Having picked up a single measly point--a draw with the similarly struggling Ancharmunn--through four games, and having lost quite badly in the rest that they've played. It was no different when Solara Vol and company arrived, were escorted through tight security, and played in a run-down field with barely a crowd to speak of. An interesting country this is, indeed--the border control workers seemed to only get angrier when I pulled out my press credentials, which I suppose is a natural reaction to those trained in ensuring the stability of a, let's say, "consolidated government". Thankfully, several other die-hard Mriinian fans had come along as well, and successfully convinced that I was there to report on the football and not on the political atrocities.

As for the actual football? It was laughable. After the intensity of the match versus Flardania every attempt at Turkmenbasyn ball control felt like someone was squeezing a whoopie cushion in my face. And there was absolutely nothing they could do about the Mriinian offense; Solara was running circles around the defenders, and scored twice essentially uncontested with long shots that a better keeper could have stopped. Two-oh it was by the half, and things could not look grimmer for the unranked side.

I will say--they did get a decent shot in. After returning for the second half they took some advantage of the Mriinians lazing on their lead, making some admittedly good passing plays to work the ball deeper into the away half. But, unfortunately for them, their shot taking couldn't live up to the standards set up by their passing. Zilia Hawsorn caught the eventual attempt so easily she immediately threw it out to Mari Lavoi, who'd been tripped up earlier in the drive which conveniently put her into an excellent counterattack position. Sidenote: Good grief, the arm on Hawsorn! She could be an olympian shotput medalist if she put her mind to it, I'm sure, but in the meantime I'm ecstatic she's lending her talents to our football squad.

Lavoi may be in the process of learning how to properly play a back on the NT, but she is no stranger to scoring goals. Her striker play is a key part of the Maal Angels' strategy, as their airtight defense doesn't earn a win on its own; the inexperienced Turkmenbasyn defense, caught on the back foot as they were, stood no chance of stopping her, and the third goal truely sealed the deal.

With that win, and Brigantii managing to leverage home field advantage to force a draw with Flardania, we move into a tie for third place with the Flardanians! We're still effectively fourth, of course, because of the absolutely insane goal difference they put up with their crushing wins over Dainer and Turkmenbasyn. But the fear is in them now that they've dropped four points to lower-ranked sides, and we're threatening to take them over if they slip up again. Our next match will be against a competent Brigantii side, but between the game being played in Maal and our more aggressive playstyle I think we'll be able to overcome them where Flardania couldn't.

Mriin - 3
Vol 18', 33'
Lavoi 52'
Turkmenbasyn - 0

[Alasdair I Frosticus]

The Holy Empire 4–2 Kosovakia [H]
The Holy Empire 5-2 Frenline Delpha [A]

HARRY POTTER AND THE CALL OF CTHULHU

The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents. We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far. Wizards and muggle scientists, each straining in their own direction, have hitherto harmed us little; but some day the piecing together of dissociated knowledge will open up such terrifying vistas of reality, and of our frightful position therein, that we shall either go mad from the revelation or flee from the deadly light into the peace and safety of a new dark age.

The great wizards of the past have guessed at the awesome grandeur of the cosmic cycle wherein our world and human race form transient incidents. They have hinted at strange survivals in terms which would freeze the blood if not masked by a bland optimism. But it is not from them that there came the single glimpse of forbidden aeons which chills me when I think of it and maddens me when I dream of it. That glimpse, like all dread glimpses of truth, flashed out from an accidental piecing together of separated things—in this case some discussions with muggle archaeologists and the notes of dead professor Dumbledore. I hope that no one else will accomplish this piecing out; certainly I shall never knowingly supply a link in so hideous a chain. I think that Professor Dumbledore, too, intended to keep silent regarding the part he knew, and that he would have destroyed his notes had not sudden death at the hands of the much misunderstood Severus Snape taken him from us.

I had entered an unusual period of my life when the events that I am about to recount took place. Though I was fortunate enough to have married the love of my life, and to have two wonderful sons and a loving daughter, life had lost some of its savour since the defeat of Voldemort. It was therefore with alacrity that I accepted two simultaneous offers that promised much in the way of adventure. The Ministry of Magic offered to allow me to undertake secret missions to investigate rumours of unspeakable rites that haunted the muggle world, while a Mr Tzimisces invited me to travel far and wide as part of a sporting team playing the muggle sport of association football for his ‘Holy Empire’ (a land that would itself be worthy of more detailed description were it not a distraction from my central tale). The latter seemed to offer perfect cover for the former, and my beloved Ginevra encouraged me to accept.

It was some time between the Holy Empire’s 4–2 victory over Kosovakia and 5-2 victory over Frenline Delpha that the events I relate here took place. I had been made aware of a conference of muggle archaeologists which was to discuss the nature and location of the unspeakable rites that had come to the attention of the Ministry of Magic. At this conference these muggles described an ancient cult that worshipped, so they said, the Great Old Ones who lived ages before there were any men, and who came to the young world out of the sky. Those Old Ones were gone now, inside the earth and under the sea; but their dead bodies had told their secrets in dreams to the first men, who formed a cult which had never died. This was that cult, and the prisoners said it had always existed and always would exist, hidden in distant wastes and dark places all over the world until the time when the great priest Cthulhu, from his dark house in the mighty city of R’lyeh under the waters, should rise and bring the earth again beneath his sway. Some day he would call, when the stars were ready, and the secret cult would always be waiting to liberate him. The cults chanted ritual consisted of the dread words ‘Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn’. The chant meant only this: “In his house at R’lyeh dead Cthulhu waits dreaming.”

The archaeologists recounted bits of hideous legend that paled the speculations of wizards, and made man and the world seem recent and transient indeed. There had been aeons when other Things ruled on the earth, and They had had great cities. Remains of Them, so said these muggle professors, were still to be found as Cyclopean stones on islands in the North Atlantic. They all died vast epochs of time before men came, but there were arts which could revive Them when the stars had come round again to the right positions in the cycle of eternity. They had, indeed, come themselves from the stars, and brought Their images with Them.

These Great Old Ones were not composed altogether of flesh and blood. They had shape—for did not this star-fashioned image prove it?—but that shape was not made of matter. When the stars were right, They could plunge from world to world through the sky; but when the stars were wrong, They could not live. But although They no longer lived, They would never really die. They all lay in stone houses in Their great city of R’lyeh, preserved by the spells of mighty Cthulhu for a glorious resurrection when the stars and the earth might once more be ready for Them. But at that time some force from outside must serve to liberate Their bodies. The spells that preserved Them intact likewise prevented Them from making an initial move, and They could only lie awake in the dark and think whilst uncounted millions of years rolled by. They knew all that was occurring in the universe, but Their mode of speech was transmitted thought. Even now They talked in Their tombs. When, after infinities of chaos, the first men came, the Great Old Ones spoke to the sensitive among them by moulding their dreams; for only thus could Their language reach the fleshly minds of mammals.

Then, claimed the archaeologists, those first men formed the cult around small idols which the Great Ones shewed them; idols brought in dim aeras from dark stars. That cult would never die till the stars came right again, and the secret priests would take great Cthulhu from His tomb to revive His subjects and resume His rule of earth. The time would be easy to know, for then mankind would have become as the Great Old Ones; free and wild and beyond good and evil, with laws and morals thrown aside and all men shouting and killing and revelling in joy. Then the liberated Old Ones would teach them new ways to shout and kill and revel and enjoy themselves, and all the earth would flame with a holocaust of ecstasy and freedom. Meanwhile the cult, by appropriate rites, must keep alive the memory of those ancient ways and shadow forth the prophecy of their return.

Imagine my surprise when these muggle fancies were corroborated by certain papers that had formerly belonged to Professor Dumbledore. My late mentor had a library that contained many eldritch tomes that, while suffused with an inalterable evil, had done much good in researching the dark magic that had allowed Voldemort to create his horcruxes. Among these was the Necronomicon of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred. Next to the the much-discussed couplet “That is not dead which can eternal lie / And with strange aeons even death may die” Professor Dumbledore had made certain notes which connected the Cult of Cthulhu with coordinates over the North Atlantic, suggesting a hitherto unknown connexion. Though Professor McGonagall, when I sought her counsel, advised me against investigating further, I resolved to investigate this curious coincidence that fit my new remit from the Ministry of Magic.

Thus it was that I found myself flying over the ocean on my broomstick, somewhere in the wide seas that encompass St Kilda and Rockall, with seven brave Gryffindor companions from the days of Dumbledore’s Army by my side. Memories of the past encouraged me forward towards a strange, miasmic cloud that seemed to rise above the coordinates in Dumbledore’s papers. Driven ahead by curiosity we saw a great stone pillar sticking out of the sea, and came upon a coast-line of mingled mud, ooze, and weedy Cyclopean masonry which could be nothing less than the tangible substance of earth’s supreme terror—the nightmare corpse-city of R’lyeh, that was built in measureless aeons behind history by the vast, loathsome shapes that seeped down from the dark stars. There lay great Cthulhu and his hordes, hidden in green slimy vaults and sending out at last, after cycles incalculable, the thoughts that spread fear to the dreams of the sensitive and called imperiously to the faithful to come on a pilgrimage of liberation and restoration. All this I did not yet fully suspect, but I soon saw enough!

I suppose that only a single mountain-top, the hideous monolith-crowned citadel whereon great Cthulhu was buried, actually emerged from the waters. My companions were awed by the cosmic majesty of this dripping Babylon of elder daemons, and we sensed without guidance that it was nothing of this or of any sane planet. Awe at the unbelievable size of the greenish stone blocks, at the dizzying height of the great carven monolith, and at the stupefying identity of the colossal statues and bas-reliefs suffused all eight of us.

How can I speak of the city in ways that might be understood by wizard and muggle alike? For instead of describing any definite structure or building, I can provide only broad impressions of vast angles and stone surfaces—surfaces too great to belong to any thing right or proper for this earth, and impious with horrible images and hieroglyphs that Salazar Slytherin himself would have rejected as too horrible for the wizarding world. I mention these angles because they suggest something of the geometry of the place; abnormal, non-Euclidean, outside the realm of arithmancy, and loathsomely redolent of spheres and dimensions apart from ours.

We set our broomsticks down at a sloping mud-bank on this monstrous Acropolis, and clambered slipperily up over titan oozy blocks which could have been no mortal staircase. The very sun of heaven seemed distorted when viewed through the polarising miasma welling out from this sea-soaked perversion, and twisted menace and suspense lurked leeringly in those crazily elusive angles of carven rock where a second glance shewed concavity after the first shewed convexity.

Something very like fright had come over us before anything more definite than rock and ooze and weed was seen. Each would have fled had we not been stout-hearted Gryffindors, and it was only half-heartedly that we searched—vainly, as it proved—for some portable evidence to bear away for study by muggle archaeologists or wizarding herbologists.

It was Katie Bell who climbed up the foot of the monolith and shouted of what she had found. The rest of us followed her, and looked curiously at the immense carved door with the squid-dragon bas-relief. It was, I thought, like a great barn-door; and we all felt that it was a door because of the ornate lintel, threshold, and jambs around it, though we could not decide whether it lay flat like a trap-door or slantwise like an outside cellar-door. The geometry of the place was all wrong, even to wizards used to the ways of magic. One could not be sure that the sea and the ground were horizontal, hence the relative position of everything else seemed phantasmally variable.

Dennis Creevey, still mournful of demeanour since the tragic loss of his brother at the Battle of Hogwarts, pushed at the stone in several places without result. Then Finnigan felt over it delicately around the edge, pressing each point separately as he went. He climbed interminably along the grotesque stone moulding—that is, one would call it climbing if the thing was not after all horizontal—and the men wondered how any door in the universe could be so vast. Then, very softly and slowly, the acre-great panel began to give inward at the top; and they saw that it was balanced. Finnigan slid or somehow propelled himself down or along the jamb and rejoined his fellows, and each of us watched the queer recession of the monstrously carven portal. In this phantasy of prismatic distortion it moved anomalously in a diagonal way, so that all the rules of matter and perspective seemed upset.

The aperture was black with a darkness almost material. That tenebrousness was indeed a positive quality; for it obscured such parts of the inner walls as ought to have been revealed, and actually burst forth like smoke from its aeon-long imprisonment, visibly darkening the sun as it slunk away into the shrunken and gibbous sky on flapping membraneous wings. The odour arising from the newly opened depths was intolerable, and at length the quick-eared Parvati Patil thought she heard a nasty, slopping sound down there. Each of us listened, and each of us was listening still when It lumbered slobberingly into sight and gropingly squeezed Its gelatinous green immensity through the black doorway into the tainted outside air of that poison city of madness.

My heart almost gives out when I write of this. Of the six companions who never reached the ship, I think Bell and Jordan perished of pure fright in that accursed instant. The Thing cannot be described—there is no language for such abysms of shrieking and immemorial lunacy, such eldritch contradictions of all matter, force, and cosmic order. A mountain walked or stumbled. The Thing, the green, sticky spawn of the stars, had awaked to claim his own. The stars were right again, and what an age-old cult had failed to do by design, a band of wandering wizards had done by accident. After vigintillions of years great Cthulhu was loose again, and ravening for delight.

We unleashed our most potent spells, but human magic was ineffective against this eldritch horror. In desperation Angelina Johnson attempted Avada Kedavra, to no avail against this loathsome, ancient form more powerful than any mere wizardry. Three of us were swept up by the flabby claws before anybody turned. God rest them, if there be any rest in the universe. They were Finnigan, Thomas, and Patil. Johnson slipped as the other three were plunging frenziedly over endless vistas of green-crusted rock to the boat, and I swear she was swallowed up by an angle of masonry which shouldn’t have been there; an angle which was acute, but behaved as if it were obtuse. So only Dennis Creevey and I reached the broomsticks as the mountainous monstrosity flopped down the slimy stones and hesitated floundering at the edge of the water.

Slowly, all too slowly, amidst the distorted horrors of that indescribable scene, our broomsticks began to rise above the waters; whilst on the masonry of that charnel shore that was not of earth the titan Thing from the stars slavered and gibbered like Polypheme cursing the fleeing ship of Odysseus. Then, bolder than the storied Cyclops, great Cthulhu slid greasily into the water and began to pursue with vast wave-raising strokes of cosmic potency before our broomsticks could lift us aloft beyond his reach. Creevey looked back and went mad, laughing shrilly as he kept on laughing at intervals; I could not simply fly away on my Nimbus 4001 and abandon my one remaining companion to some terrible fate at the hands of the slobbering Old One.

Knowing that the Thing could surely overtake Creevey, I resolved on a desperate chance; and, setting my broom for full speed drove head on against the pursuing jelly which rose above the unclean froth like the stern of a daemon galleon. The awful squid-head with writhing feelers loomed above me, but I drove on relentlessly. There was a bursting as of an exploding bladder, a slushy nastiness as of a cloven sunfish, a stench as of a thousand opened graves, and a sound that I cannot describe on paper. For an instant the broom was befouled by an acrid and blinding green cloud, and then there was only a venomous seething; where—God in heaven!—the scattered plasticity of that nameless sky-spawn was nebulously recombining in its hateful original form. Yet this gave me enough time to direct Creevey’s broom skywards, and set our course for land.

That was all. Then there came a storm, and a gathering of the clouds about my consciousness. I had a sense of spectral whirling through liquid gulfs of infinity, of dizzying rides through reeling universes on a comet’s tail, and of hysterical plunges from the pit to the moon and from the moon back again to the pit, all livened by a cachinnating chorus of the distorted, hilarious elder gods and the green, bat-winged mocking imps of Tartarus.

This is my story, and now – as my beloved Ginevra slumbers in the next room – I have placed it in the tin box beside the papers of Professor Dumbledore. With it shall go this record of mine—this test of my own sanity, wherein is pieced together that which I hope may never be pieced together again. I have passed through the wall that divides life and death, I have held the Deathly Hallows, I have faced – and bested – the most powerful Dark Wizard in aeons. But only now have I looked upon all that the universe has to hold of horror; now even the skies of spring and the flowers of summer must ever afterward be poison to me. I have seen too much, and the cult of Cthulhu still lives.

Cthulhu still lives, too, I suppose, again in that chasm of stone which has shielded him since the sun was young. His accursed city is sunken once more, for I flew once more over the spot after the April storm; but his ministers on earth still bellow and prance and slay around idol-capped monoliths in lonely places. He must have been trapped by the sinking whilst within his black abyss, or else the world would by now be screaming with fright and frenzy. Who knows the end? What has risen may sink, and what has sunk may rise. There are horrors so great that even the mind of Voldemort at the height of his power could not fathom them. Loathsomeness waits and dreams in the deep, and decay spreads over the tottering cities of men, muggle and wizard alike. A time will come—but I must not and cannot think! Let me pray that my sons may put caution before audacity and see that this manuscript meets no other eye.

[Krondoria]

I'm putting in this request for a spot in the 77 NS World Cup.

[Amnarei-asud]

Shuffling his papers, Kerim Al-Tanaka checked his watch and decided to call it a night. It had been another long day at the FAAa. Two teams in the amateur leagues had been reported for embezzlement, though, of what money he had thus far been unable to ascertain. On top of which, the Sheikh himself had dropped by unannounced to eagerly discuss the previous night's Fennecs match, and then rushed off all excited when he heard the team themselves had just landed at Ain Salah airport. He'd really taken the team to heart in recent weeks, presumably now they were apparently successful and he could claim the whole thing was his idea. As all good things in this dusty hellhole were. Naturally.

Not that Al-Tanaka knew what the hurry was; the Sheikh's own razor-sharp border controls would prevent the team making it through customs and immigration for the next few hours, at least.

Or would they?

There was a knock at the door. Al-Tanaka checked his watch again. He knew he had no further appointments that day.

"Come in?" he said with trepidation, one hand reaching for the draw he kept his gun in, just in case.

"Look away, first." came a familiar voice from the other side of the ostentatious carved wooden door.

"Oh, it's you," said Al-Tanaka, sitting back and covering his eyes, "go on, then."

There was a brief shuffling, and the door opened and closed.

"Hi." said The Hood from the darkest corner of the room.

"How the hell did you get here so quickly? You only just landed an hour ago I was told?" asked Al-Tanaka incredulously, taking his hand down again.

"One develops special techniques when you need to be as secretive as that." shrugged The Hood.

"Well, I'm sure, but it's more a question of ability than legality. It's damned impressive, however you do it," continued Al-Tanaka, clearly not giving the clear breach of an incredibly well policed law that much thought, "but anyway: congratulations. Again. Another impressive draw away from home!"

"Thank you, Kerim. Though, let's not beat around the bush; that's not why I'm here."

"Oh? Then why are you here?" smiled Al-Tanaka warmly, doing his best not to look too closely into the shadows out of respect.

"Well, that's just it. Why am I here?"

Al-Tanaka looked up, confused.

"In general, I mean," continued The Hood.

"In my office?"

"In Amnarei-asud at all."

"How do you mean?"

"Come on, Kerim. You know what I mean. You know there's something at play here."

Al-Tanaka shifted awkwardly in his seat, unable to meet The Hood's gaze even if he could.

"I saw it in your eyes, that night against Bonesea. You saw something in me. You saw something in yourself. You know what's going on."

"Hood, I..." began Al-Tanaka, before he was interrupted.

"Was it you?" continued The Hood, stalking towards Al-Tanaka's desk under his robes, "was it you who ensured I woke up on that beach that night? Was it the Sheikh? I know he's up to some pretty shady shit in this fucking country of yours!"

"There's no need to shout, Hood," said Al-Tanaka meekly, leaning back in his chair to resist the advance of The Hood.

"Well then WHAT'S GOING ON?!" shouted The Hood menacingly.

"I DON'T KNOW!"

The Hood stopped, having reached the desk, and instead leaned over it without speaking. He was close enough that Al-Tanaka could have looked him dead in the eye if he'd chosen to. But out of either respect or fear, the chairman of the FAAa chose to keep looking away.

"I don't know. Honestly." continued Al-Tanaka.

The Hood leaned back again. "Then, that night at The Rock, you didn't have a realisation?"

"No."

"But, you looked-"

"Like I realised something wasn't right. Yes. I always knew there was something about Saab and then you came along out of literally fucking nowhere and proved me right, at last! And then I met you and there was something about you as well. Something about you that triggered something about me as well. All of a sudden I felt like I didn't really belong here. Like there's something missing. Like..."

"Like you need to itch a scratch you can't reach?" offered The Hood.

"...something like that, I guess," shrugged Al-Tanaka, "I can't put my finger on it or describe it, really. It makes no sense to me. Who even are you, Hood? I know nothing about you. Were you sent by the Sheikh? Is this some elaborate loyalty test? Am I about to be stormed by paramilitaries? I live my life on edge since you came along, Hood. It's horrible."

"No, I wasn't sent by anyone," replied The Hood, taking a seat opposite Al-Tanaka and rearranging his robes more fully around his face, "at least, not that I know of."

"I'm sorry I can't be more help."

"It's okay," said The Hood evenly, "we've never spoken about it before today even though we've had plenty of chances to; I suspected a lot of that was because you had no help to offer. Until now, anyway."

"Until now?"

"Look at this." said The Hood, taking an envelope from his robes and sliding it across the desk to Al-Tanaka.

"What is it?" asked Al-Tanaka, taking it and scanning his eyes over the contents slowly.

"You remember the fit Saab had the night before the Baptism final?"

Al-Tanaka nodded.

"This was what he shouted at me before he fainted, for the brief minute he was cogent."

Al-Tanaka read out loud:
"Debug warning!
Error: content expected!
A runtime error has been detected!
This environment is unstable and liable to corrupt.
Overheating!
Memory Fracture!
Return fragmented artefacts to universal file source at disk location and check event history.
Fragmented artefacts. Three. Overrides attached by administrator.
Contact your ultimate administrator or file manager.
Do you wish to reboot from disk?
You must have the necessary permissions.
Be prepared for water damage, and lower disk temperature.
DO YOU WISH TO REBOOT FROM DISK?!
Locate memory source from artefact file-name.
Artefact duration one-zero-one-one-zero-one.
This activity has performed an illegal operation and must be shut down."

There was a pregnant pause.

"Any ideas?" asked The Hood, finally.

"None at all, I'm afraid," said Al-Tanaka slowly, "it's a stream of gibberish, Hood."

"Is it, though?" asked The Hood, putting his hand out for the envelope to be returned, "think about it: I'm here for no apparent reason, it's important that I come across Saab, somebody you'd already identified as being important for some reason. You see something in me that you can't put your finger on, and then Saab, the person we'd both identified as having something about him, spits this out at me - directly to me when I entered the room - before fainting."

"But, what could it mean?"

"I think it's a warning, Kerim. I think I need to-" The Hood checked the paper, "return fragmented artefacts to universal file source at disk location and check event history."

"To do... what?"

"To prevent overheating and the liable corruption, or something. I just feel like I need to figure it through."

Al-Tanaka rubbed his fingers along the bridge of his nose, "there is something about it, you're right. It's way too specific to be a ramble cause by a fit, surely."

"Specific about what, though?" asked The Hood.

"Well, there's your problem, isn't it? We don't know the area you're meant to be digging in, let alone what you're expecting to find."

"I'm pretty sure I know who I am, and I think I know where I'm from, even though I can find no reference to it anywhere. It's a start, but not a relevant one," agreed The Hood.

"Have you tried libraries?"

"What libraries?"

"Books?"

"What books?" laughed The Hood.

Al-Tanaka opened his mouth to argue again, then thought better of it. The Hood had a point.

"I've tried human memory, but there's nobody in this country with any memory at all. Nobody seems to know anything about anything! Where did Amnarei-asud even come from? How did it start? What came before the Sheikh?!"

"We do have a museum in Ain Salah, you know?" sniffed Al-Tanaka.

"Yeah, but that's the ancient stuff, isn't it? Mummies and tombs and glyphs. I meant the bit your Sheikh has appeared to have wiped not only from history but from the collective memory of everyone in the country. It's a clever trick, however he did it. But even then, I have no idea if it's even relevant to what I'm looking for."

"Well, what about the contact your ultimate administrator or file manager, bit?" asked Al-Tanaka, "who could they mean?"

"I thought about that, my only guess was the Sheikh. Or you."

"Well, assuming you've not put breaking in to the presidential palace and interrogating him, there is, distasteful though it is, one other option..." said Al-Tanaka, wincing.

"There is? Who?"

"Think about it," continued Al-Tanaka, "who is the only other person we've come across together who appears to have any knowledge of what goes on beyond the shores of this island? Who is the one person who clings to that knowledge and claims it gives them a legitimacy? Who is the person who relies upon their historic and referential name to give them a swagger and make it sound like they know what they're talking about?"

"Oh, no..." said The Hood, leaning back in his chair unhappily.

"Oh, yes," said Al-Tanaka with absolutely no joy in his voice, "Hood, I'm sorry, but I think you need to go and talk to our 'friend', Simeone Al-Owairan."

"Oh, gods..."

[Bonesea]

...

[Natanians and Nosts]

-Hey!Good night!I am Gheorghe Márcus Álvares and I'm here with three of our great players:Rômulo Amúlio Silva,Gabriel Ápio Silva e Natan Nínnio Gonçalo.Good night.
-Good night Gheorghe!
-Good nite,Gheorghe!
-Good night,Gheorghe!
-Well.But before we go on,let's recaptulate the game.
"Natanians and Nosts started the game pressuring high with good scoring opportunities,like this one by Lucas Lucius Vit;but by the 20th minute Freyhill successfully blocked our 'wall',taking control of the game untill the end of the first period,the only chance we had was this one by Natan Nínnio Gonçalo that was really close.The second period started with a goal by John Karl Foster,but he was offside.Freyhill had a good chance with one of their attackers in a riot-esque situation where we couldn't know who was.By the thirtieth minute after a corner,Rômulo Amúlio Silva scored the only goal of the match.At the last minute Freyhill lost a chance of drawing the game,and when the referee ended the game,the crowd couldn't stop screaming of happiness."
-Ah.So...Are you happy with the result,our first win at this World Cup Qualifiers.I must confess I almost cried after the game.
-Well,it was very good to win.Also it was beautiful to see our people happy!And we won thanks to God!Because even if we trained well,we couldn't win without Him.
-Yeah,you're right!I am so proud of being at this team,with these great players.
-How about you Lucas Lucius?
-Gheorghe,I am speechless.I am still "processing" the info.
-And,the next game will be a hard one.What are you expecting?
-I hopewe don't lose!
-A draw would be great!But,if we're going to lose,that t be by a small difference.
-This were Rõmulo Amúlio Silva,Gabriel Ápio Silva and Natan Nínnio Gonçalo!After the break you'll see the results from our group and some interviews.