World Cup 78 - Roleplay Thread

[Chromatika]

Equestrian States 1-2 Chromatika
Starting Lineups vs. Equestrian States: Nier; Morningstar - Aart - Ellen; Kelly (C) - Sybill - Hellion - Liam; Rien - Andisori - Antonio. Subs: Damjana -> Ellen '52, Dragana -> Antonio '73, Stef -> Aart '78
Goals vs. Equestrian States: Rien '12 assisted by Hellion; Antonio '22 free kick Player of the Match: Jillian Nier (1 goal allowed, 12 saves)

It had been a telling match on multiple fronts. First, Jillian Nier showed that she wasn't rusty at all with the rest she'd been getting and Ria and Elise starting, putting up a masterful performance, the lone blunder being off of a set piece late in a match thoroughly dominated by the Chromatiks. Second, the back three had done all they could to make certain the shots that Nier were getting were poor ones. Only about three of the twelve shots on goal by the home team actually had a chance of going in. In the midfield, Sandra Sybill started to give Alyss Montague one of her rare rests of the qualifying cycle so far; though Sybill is Hellion's backup, the two worked well in tandem, setting up the front three with many a chance, with Rien and Antonio taking full advantage.

The win sees the Chromatiks qualified with three matches to spare, one of the fastest teams to do so. When asked if he would be starting backups from here on out, Silian Parker had a by-now usual message:

"There are three games left, and three levels of opponents; I think it will be perfect to give each level of our squad one last chance. Against the Free Republics, I plan on sending out mostly Bench players, against Damukuni, I plan on giving our Starters one last tune-up, and the game against Abisa will allow for our Reserves to have one last start. Subs being at my discretion, off course."

When asked if that strategy might deter the Chromatiks from a perfect qualifying campaign, Parker added:

"The health of our players is the most important thing, not a perfect record. If we end up losing all three matches, we're still in the tournament. I'd rather make sure the squad is as healthy as possible when we head to either our Atlantian Oceanian neighbors Cosumar or to Bonesea."

Only time will tell if Parker's stratagem will work out.

Lineup vs. Free Republics: Ria; Ilya - Stef - Damjana; Etienne - Harbin - Sybil - Buric; Niro - Victoriane (C) - Dragana.

---

OPERATION NEW HOPE

Work in Progress: Col. E. Monett's three picks for The Project

Revealing of the five foreigners participating in the Project.

[Abanhfleft]

Sand as Red as Blood, Part Five

Pridnestrovian submarine K-312
Somewhere off the coast of Atlantian Oceania

In the chaos of the emergency evacuation of the missile compartment of K-312, no one had noticed at first that two of the crewmen who were in the compartment as damage control parties had not made it out before the captain had given the order to seal all compartments to stem the flood of seawater from the hole in the hull punched by the second explosion from an exothermic reaction caused by leaking missile fuel mixing with seawater pouring into the silos through old and faulty seals. There hadn't been enough time to make a head count before the compartments had to be sealed against the flooding, but now that the submarine was stable on the surface of the ocean, someone was finally able to count the number of crew who had made it out of the missile compartment and had come up two short.

It wasn't that the rest of the crew didn't particularly care for these two; it just so happened that they were both operating in the very middle of the missile compartment trying to secure the other silos from exploding like what had already happened to them twice and therefore no one got the word to them that the compartment was being evacuated. By the time that both of them finally wised up to their current predicament, it was too late for them; the compartment had already been sealed. The two of them knocked on the metal divider separating the compartments to little avail, initially.

"Oh, that's done it, then," Senior Warrant Officer Galina Fyodorovna Ginigina muttered after she made one last attempt to attract some attention by banging on the divider with a ball-peen hammer. "We're going to die here."

"Don't be so negative, Comrade Praporshchik," Seaman First Class Yelizaveta Aleksandrovna Nevsky said to the warrant officer. "We're not going to die now, are we? I mean, look at the hole. There's no more water coming in through it, and I can see sunlight through the hole. I think we're already on the surface. So how can we die here? It's not they're going to keep us trapped here, are they?"

"It's not the water itself that I'm worried about," Ginigina replied. "I'm actually more concerned about the nitric acid and all the other shit that that reaction between the missile fuel and the seawater creates. I mean, do you see those brown vapors still swirling around silo eight? Those vapors mean that there's still a chemical reaction going on over there. And look at all the water in here!" She gestured at the waist-deep water in which Ginigina and Nevsky were currently standing. "Do you think the others are going to risk getting all this water flooding their own compartments now that we're on the surface?"

"I was just trying to be optimistic, praporshchik," Nevsky replied with genuine contrition.

"No need to be sorry for being optimistic, Seaman," Ginigina said. "Sometimes, in our line of work, a little optimism can be very much a breath of fresh air."

Right at that moment, the kashtan intra-ship communications system chirped and a scratchy voice called out from it, "To the person or persons in the missile compartment, respond immediately if you can hear me. This is Captain Kalinina. To the person or persons in the missile compartment, if you can hear this message, know that we are working on a way to get you out of there as soon as we can."

Missile officer Captain Lieutenant Yasila Moiseyevna Vroyev had approached Captain Tanya Kalinina to report on the rhythmic bangings on the divider between the missile compartment and the control room compartment which had told her that at least one person had been left behind in the missile compartment. This was then confirmed when they finally did a head count of all the people who had made it out of the missile compartment before they sealed the compartment to halt the flooding of the sub and they came up two short, with Praporshchik Galina Ginigina and Seaman First Class Yelizaveta Nevsky being the two missing crewmen. After a brief consultation with the electrical and engineering officers with regards to the operational status of the kashtan communications system, Kalinina had decided to take the risk and attempt to communicate with those who were still trapped in the missile compartment, if indeed they were still alive.

Praporshchik Ginigina immediately grabbed the nearest kashtan to her and began to speak. "Comrade Captain, this is Praporshchik Ginigina speaking. Can you hear me, Captain?" But neither Kalinina nor anyone else with access to a kashtan replied to Ginigina's calls. "Nevsky! Go find a working kashtan! And quickly!" she ordered, and Nevsky rushed around the compartment searching for a kashtan with a working mouthpiece. Finally, after trying two or three kashtans, she finally came across one which was working or at least not damaged enough to not be able to communicate with the rest of the kashtan system. "Comrade Captain!" she called out. "Comrade Captain, can you hear me now?"

"Yes, yes, I can hear you now," Kalinina's voice, made scratchy by the damaged kashtan system, replied. "Is that you, Praporshchik?" she asked.

"Negative, Captain; this is Seaman Nevsky."

"Oh, Seaman! Where's the Comrade Praporshchik?"

"She's coming over right now, Comrade Captain." Nevsky handed the kashtan over to Ginigina as soon as the warrant officer had finally made it to the location of the working kashtan.

"Yes, Comrade Captain?" Ginigina asked once she held the kashtan.

"Can you report on the conditions inside the compartment, Praporshchik?" Kalinina asked them.

"Ah, Comrade Captain, they could be better," Ginigina replied. "But they could also be worse. There are still clouds of what I think are vapors from the reaction between the seawater and the missile fuel around silo eight but they haven't gone anywhere else yet for the moment. We're also standing waist-deep in seawater ourselves but it's not the most pressing concern at the moment, Comrade Captain."

"Copy that, Praporshchik," Kalinina said. "Stand by for further instructions."

"Yes, Comrade Captain," Ginigina replied. She then replaced the kashtan and turned to Nevsky. "This is the moment where the captain and the officers decide if they will let us out of here if it means that their compartments will get flooded as well as see the vapors reach their compartments as well."

"Surely they'll let us out, won't they, Praporshchik?" Nevsky asked, a little bit of doubt creeping into her voice.

"Ah, lass, that's where I can no longer answer you because I don't know the answer myself," Ginigina admitted.

Nevsky was about to say something when she felt the smell of almonds tickling her nostrils. She turned around to look and saw that some wisps of brown vapor were already spreading from the ruined silo eight towards them. "Whatever their decision is, I hope they make it quick," she muttered.

Back in the control room, Captain Kalinina was now in conference with her officers. "What's the risk to the rest of us if we unseal the missile compartment?" she asked them.

"As far as physical impact goes, very little, Comrade Captain," Captain Second Rank Grigoriya Yefremovna Poleta, the damage control officer, replied. "Sure, we'll get some more flooding from the extra water from the missile compartment. What did Ginigina say the water over was, waist-high? That's not much of a worry because once the water level equalizes between both compartments, the water height won't compromise a lot more of our electronics and equipment."

"I concur, Captain," the electrical officer replied. "None of our control room equipment will be much affected by the rush of water from the missile compartment."

"Well, at least we have one good thing going for us," Kalinina said. "But what about those brown vapors? Yasila, do you think the vapors will get here along with the water if we unseal the compartment?"

"Actually, I think that that's unlikely, Captain," Captain Lieutenant Yasila Vroyev said. "As long as the cloud remains near silo eight and Ginigina and Nevsky don't move around too much and create a micro-climate or some other shit inside the compartment, that cloud is not going to move."

"Captain, Ginigina speaking," the warrant officer called out through the kashtan. Kalinina picked up her kashtan and replied, "Yes, what is it, Galina?"

"I think that brown cloud is beginning to spread, Captain," Ginigina said, "and Nevsky is already starting to smell almonds in here."

The officers in the control room looked around in alarm as they realized that the situation and the decision had now been taken out of their hands. "Unseal the compartment," Kalinina ordered. "We need to get those two out of there now."

---

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WORLD CUP 78 QUALIFIERS: ABANHFLEFT VS TUMBRA
By Malik Qazizadah


Abanhfleft's Karen Villegas celebrates her goal against Tumbra. (Courtesy of Crescent News Network Sports Channel/Andros Tasasa)

ROSENPFELBLATZ, MEZALADBYI - A very late goal from Karen Villegas proved to be the difference between Abanhfleft and Tumbra as the Lady Revolutionaries secured a vital victory against their qualification rivals in a tensely fought match at the Aeroflot Stadium.

Injury woes mean that Chelsea Stuart still sat out this qualifying match even as Allison Torres and Alexandra Rousseau finally made their returns to the national team after their own respective injury and illness spells.

Chances were few and far between in this game, with the most notable being a long range attempt from John Rhys-Stevens and a direct free kick from Bella Maynard for both teams, both of which found the goalposts with resounding gongs.

The Lady Revolutionaries' injury woes looked to continue when Lea Choi hobbled off of the pitch in the 70th minute after a hard tackle from Almar Hussein but the Tumbran winger was not shown any card but was instead given only a warning.

It eventually took a moment of magic Rosenpfelblatz City Ladies teammates Rousseau and Karen Villegas in front of their home fans in their home stadium to finally break the deadlock in the dying minutes of the game with Rousseau squaring the ball to Villegas for an easy tap-in.

Not the time for experiments?
Holly Jonasson has begun experimenting with different iterations of the same lineup in the past few World Cup qualifiers for Abanhfleft, but the fact that qualification may not happen for the Lady Revolutionaries coupled with injuries make for a very delicate environment in which there is little room for error.

Fielding a back three of Amanda Warren, Miriam Hannibal, and Tonya Heaton (Claudine Samaniego is missing in action after her own injury woes) was most definitely an experimental move from Jonasson, and its effectiveness could definitely have gone either way, and Jonasson probably counts herself lucky that it all worked out in the end.

Abanhfleft women's team manager Holly Jonasson: "Yes, the win is good but the situation on the table is a little bit bad. We've already taken points from the two teams ahead of us. All we can do now is win every game after and hope that the other top teams begin dropping points. But, like I said before, I don't see either San Jose Guayabal or Tumbra dropping points, not with the momentum that they both have now. The ball's well and truly in our court now."

Abanhfleft will face Bongo Johnson at an unknown stadium in Bongo Johnson for game fourteen of the World Cup 78 qualifiers.

   ABANHFLEFT 1 - 0 TUMBRA
VILLEGAS (89')

TUMBRA
GK: 1 Hughes
RB: 5 Reyes
RCB: 4 Nelson
LCB: 3 Brooks (Keum - 69')
LB: 2 Paterson
RM: 6 Butler
LM: 7 Rhys-Stevens
RW: 10 Foster
CAM: 9 Alexander
LW: 8 Hussein
ST: 11 Krajewski (Jones - 75')

ABANHFLEFT
GK: 1 Carter
RB: 14 Warren (Osgood - 83')
CB: 15 Hannibal
LB: 16 Heaton
RM: 5 Maynard
LM: 6 Choi (Vance - 70')
RW: 7 Prescott
CAM: 10 Torres
LW: 8 Singh
RS: 21 Villegas
LS: 11 Rousseau

STATISTICS
Possession
Abanhfleft: 50%
Tumbra: 50%
Shots
Abanhfleft: 11 (6 on target)
Tumbra: 12 (5 on target)
Corners
Abanhfleft: 4
Tumbra: 4
Fouls
Abanhfleft: 12
Tumbra: 12

[Ceni]

Cowboys and Fangirls
Chapter 3: Jolly Roger Sighted Off the Port Bow!

The sight of two handsome, but anonymous, young men in their jeans and boots, cowboy hats, and sunglasses striding down the Azuris promenade purposefully attracted a couple of glances from passers-by and shopkeepers, but nobody suspected that the two people walking by were some of the most sought-after teenagers in Azuris. Andrew and Liam didn't enjoy standing around in shops gawking at random gewgaws, so they skipped most of the shops hawking touristy shirts, postcards, and trinkets, but if they had, at least one might have erected a sign stating "Andrew Arrowsword shopped in this very store!"

As the seaside breeze brought a measure of relief on the hot day, the two neared Azuris's Fort Burroughs, named after an admiral of the days of yore who fought a battle or two against pirates but really didn't do much else in life. Liam had found out that the guy had ended up dead due to alcohol poisoning in his early fifties, an undignified end to one of Cosumar's most dignified sea heroes. When the two reached the entrance to the fort, constructed in the shape of a star to maximize the space for artillery with red brick, since then aged, Andrew stopped for a moment to take in the view, both of the fort and of the ocean spread in front of them. He put his hands on his hips as he stood there, admiring the expanse of ocean and the majestic construction of the fort.

Liam interrupted his boyfriend's reverie. "You look like a veritable cowboy right there, right at home on the range. All you need now is a lasso, and a horse to ride." The two began to walk into the fort, their legs moving in sync as they moved across the cobblestone pathway.

Andrew chuckled a little bit at Liam's statement. "I hear they have some good horseback riding outfits a couple of hours north of here, in the forests and rolling hills of North Klyde. Here, it's much too flat and boring for you to see anything on the back of a horse."

"Maybe we should drive up there in a couple of days," said Liam. "I remember the last time I went horseback riding; it was just outside of Lexington, the summer before I turned pro, and we rode along the Great Rushmori River in the rolling hills there. It brings back good memories for me." The two paid for their admission, and the cashier blandly took their money without looking up from her computer portal, hardly batting an eye at their outfits.

Liam quickly became engrossed in the world of Cosumarite piracy, reading over the exhibits inside the fort with a fine-toothed comb, while Andrew, with less interest in old artifacts gathering dust on a shelf, ventured outside to explore the grounds of the fort itself. While Andrew was catching the breeze and examining the cannon fixtures and defensive ramparts, Liam explored displays and artifacts on the subject, which he considered fascinating. Liam saw swords and costumes, maps and charts, coins and other types of booty, and a couple of interactive displays. He could not resist the urge to take his hat and sunglasses and don a pirate vest, eye patch, and tricorn hat, sending a picture to himself with a cheesy look. He’d have to show that one to his parents. As he exited the exhibit area, he stopped right outside the door and adjusted his eyes; he hadn’t realized how dark it was in the museum itself. He took the opportunity to stretch and reflect on what he had took in. Back in the heyday of piracy in these waters, law and order, or what we think of as that, simply did not exist, and of course, pirates swooped in to take advantage, preying on commercial shipping and settler vessels heading from Klyde Island to the bigger island in Cosumar, Cosumarus. The whole pirate business died down when the nation finally got a unified government, but it still lasted for a pretty long time.

After they met up with each other, Liam and Andrew walked over to an old square-rigger, the RCS King Mikael I, part of the fleet of the potbellied Admiral Burroughs. It was moored next to the ship of the famous pirate Charles Sweeney himself, the good old Dragonbreath, named after the famous dragons of Cosumar. Above the Dragonbreath, Sweeney's famous (or infamous, depending on how you looked at it) pirate flag, a blue and red dragon upon a black field, fluttered in the breeze. "That flag was among the most feared in this region, for miles around," said Liam, quoting one of the displays in the museum. "Sweeney had a reputation for brutality, so much so that any sight of that flag would lead to merchants abandoning their ship in lifeboats to avoid him."

"With a reputation like that, didn't the government of Cosumar try to go after him?" Andrew asked with furrowed eyebrows. He wasn't that interested in the finer points of the Cosumarite history of piracy, but he thought he had heard of Charles Sweeney before and wanted to get his story straight.

"Well, there was no government at the time. A couple of the local authorities tried, and for a couple of years, they couldn't get him," Liam replied. "But then one of his crewmen felt that he would rather throw his lot in with the local government here, and sold out his captain for a chest of pieces of eight. Most of the crewmen, and of course Sweeney himself, were captured and executed.”

“Interesting,” said Andrew, although by then, he had really lost his interest. At least the sunglasses were doing a good job of hiding his eyes. “Ready to head out on these ships here?”

Liam nodded affirmatively. “Let’s go.” The ships had some neat exhibits on them, and Andrew felt that it was cool to be standing on a relic of a bygone era, but of the two, Liam was much more interested in actually exploring the ships. Andrew just wanted to walk around the top of the decks, examining some of the intricacies of the ships’ engineering.

“So, what did you think?” asked Andrew as he debarked from the ship.

“I really enjoyed the museum,” replied Liam, holding onto the gangway handrail to stabilize himself as he got off. “I particularly liked seeing gold coins from all these different countries, and also the museum’s collection of old swords. You should have come with me.”

“I wasn’t feeling it at the time.” Andrew started walking back towards the fort. “Myself, I enjoyed the cool breeze on the top of the fort, and I actually thought the cannon emplacements were really neat.” He snapped his fingers. “Oh, I almost forgot about the architecture of the fort - I liked that too.”

“How are you liking your outfit?” Liam asked, gesturing to Andrew’s whole body, referring to the cowboy attire that they had worn.

“It’s actually not that bad, with this breeze going on and all. My boots are actually hurting me a little, and it seems that they’re loose all the time.”

“That’s because they haven’t broken in yet - once that happens, they’ll fit you much better.”

“Other than that, I’m actually quite pleased with my outfit - this hat has done a good job protecting me from the sun, and my shirt and jeans actually feel comfortable. I may end up buying a couple more shirts here, I’ll quickly grow bored of this orange one!” Andrew chuckled a little bit.

“Well, I’m glad you like it,” said Liam, stretching a little bit. “Again, this was a fairly popular outfit when I went to school.” He yawned, and heard his stomach grumbling a little bit. “What was that dinner place you had in mind again?”

“I think it’s called Lapis Lazuli - it seemed a little upscale to me but I’ve heard its good.” Andrew got out his phone to double-check. “Yeah, that’s right. You ready to eat?”

Liam looked down at the toes of his boots and paused for a slight moment. “Yeah.”

Andrew adjusted his belt buckle and hat a little bit. “Alright, let’s go, then. Let’s hurry - I’m hungry too.”

[Alasdair I Frosticus]

OOC - The Mammoth Compendium of World Cup Lies lives up to its name; you're free to believe it IC'ly, but please don't believe a word of these RPs OOC'ly. They're a compendium of lies.

THE MAMMOTH COMPENDIUM OF WORLD CUP LIES
World Cup 78 Qualification

Matchday <mumble mumble> – Bye Day Plague!

Eagle-eyed readers of the Compendium - at least, the tiny number of people that our slightly condescending and increasingly post-modern approach to mendacity hasn't alienated at this point will remember the following from the first half of qualification:

So join us now in signing the Mammoth Compendium of World Cup Lies petition to the World Cup Committee on behalf of The Trans-Cultural Multiverse Sporting Consortium For The Total Abolition of The Vile Scourge of Bye Days, or BOB for short.

Join us – Save Civilisation – Sign the petition – Join BOB – Abolish Bye Days.

Shortly afterwards, the Compendium was able to share the following exciting news about bye days and BOB:

Football associations across the multiverse are flocking to sign the BOB petition to save mundy civilization by banning bye days. Audioslavia, Krytenia, Bonesea, and Spaam are just some of the prominent nations who’ve decided to band together with HEFA and the Holy Empire in their justified crusade to outlaw this pernicious practice. Starblaydia have also rallied to the cause, with Imperial assistant coach Simeone Di Bradini playing a prominent role in convincing his nation of birth to sign up to BOB.

Yet, despite the unprecedented support for BOB, and near-universal condemnation of this pernicious practice, here we are with yet another [expletive deleted] bye day.

So it's with some sadness that we announce that - thanks to those mundies ignoring us yet again - the byebonic plague caused by Yersinis byepestis is now running rampant through Ordinary Reality, with a death rate of c.60%. Already the hecatombs of Casari are filled with the unnamed dead, and the ursines of Bears Armed - finding themselves just as susceptible as humans - are falling dead where they (note to editor... is 'stand' the right word here?). Drawkland is a vast wasteland of death, the funeral pyres of Cosumar rise to the heavens, and attempts by Nephara to declare a quarantine have only delayed the inevitable cold clammy hand of death reaching out of annihilating nearly two thirds of the national population. And those are the nations that have escaped lightly.

Call us smug, but don't say we didn't warn you.

Hopefully this will serve as a lesson. We regret the death toll - every mundy is precious, honest - but this should finally be enough to convince the World Cup Committee to ban bye days once and for all.

It's just a shame so many innocent sentient entities had to die to make this possible.

[Apox]

Carried on from here

He seemed to be in the golden glowing portal for longer than previously this time around, presumably it was taking longer to redirect him back to his correct place in Apox. He hoped anyway. He felt something flapping in his hand, and remembered the piece of paper the operator had given him in the SBIS control room. Apparently it would explain things, which would be nice since this entire experience had certainly been an unsettling one, and one he hoped he never had to worry about again. He looked down, and began to read;

"Hello, unfortunate portal traveler. You have stumbled into an unstable portal in your home land which has led you to the Dreamed Realm, and probably transported you to a variety of different places within. This can be an unpleasant and confusing experience, for which you have the SBIS' full sympathies. Travel throughout the Dreamed Realm can have some unfortunate consequences on those travelling - namely a traveler will either die a slow and painful death or become immortal thanks to the radiation they're exposed to within the portal. As you're reading this, congratulations on your new found immortality! There are a number of ways..."

Hang on. Back up. What? He read that bit again;

namely a traveler will either die a slow and painful death or become immortal thanks to the radiation they're exposed to within the portal. Ok so he had definitely not imagined reading that. What did this mean? What the hell would happen to him now?

***

"And welcome to today's match between Apox and Ethane here at Lime Ground in Urbanista. I'm Jarvis Staniels and with me is Ben Hatem and we are just seeing the teams come onto the pitch now for the anthems. It's a wonderful day for it Ben, and an excellent run Apox have been in these qualifiers.

"Indeed Jarvis, this team have made a real statement of intent in the World Stage again, and while we won't be qualifying for the World Cup this time around, the groundwork for a real good attempt in two years time has definitely been laid.

"Well said Ben. As you can see the teams are just lining up for the anthems now... and hang on, what's this? I don't know if you can see this at home, but a large, glowing, golden sphere has appeared out of nowhere in the centre of the field - the players are heading back off the pitch looking concerned, there will definitely be a delay in the start time after this.

"Yes Jarvis, I cannot see the game starting on time now. This is certainly a strange event, I'm not sure what's happening here, but I'm certainly glad I'm sat up here and not on the pitch right now.

"Is it receding Ben?

"I think it might be. Is, is that a figure we're beginning to make out there?"

"Looks like it to me Ben, I can't tell who it is though. It is definitely fading now though, no doubt about it."

"Is it, no surely it can't be, he's been missing presumed dead for seven years now."

"I think it might be Ben."

"Surely not Jarvis."

"No, I really think it is. Yes, YES IT IS! DRAVID SCOTT, WELL THIS IS BIZARRE, BUT I THINK DRAVID SCOTT HAS JUST APPEARED ON THE CENTRE CIRCLE OF LIME GROUND JUST BEFORE KICKOFF."

"The fans look a mixture of bemused and delighted, and there are cheers reverberating around the ground now, the ground where he played his club football in his career."

"I've never seen anything like it in all my life Ben, and I have seen some things. This is certainly extraordinary!"

"He's collapsed! Medical staff are already rushing over and attending to him."

"Yep, they're going to bring him off the ground. Well, I don't know what to say, but this commentator has been rendered largely speechless."

"I'm not sure how we're going to get back to the game at hand now."

OOC: Many thanks to The Holy Empire for letting me have Dravid Scott roam around the Dreamed Realm over the course of qualifying. Further RP on Dravid Scott to come in another matchday.

[Schottia]

The North Handon Way

Part Six.

Posh North Handon.

'I tell you, those baggage handler should be taken outside and shot.' Said Jim Cleggman, with utter sincerity as he and Gary made their way into town from the airport. 'I mean I understand that they have to do rigorous checks, but why they needed to carry out a controlled explosion is beyond me.' The Port Sebastian Chairman drove assertively through the heavy traffic. He had a way of making it seem energetic, the way he sat forward looking from side to side at every junction. 'I mean why on earth it was flagged as suspicious...'

'Quite...' Gary wasn't much in the mood for conversation, as he sat hunched in the passenger side. He kept the small leatherette travel bag, which now contained all his belongings, pulled up close to his chin. After his suitcase had been destroyed by the police, he wasn't parting with it for the world.

'At least they compensate you.' Cleggman added optimistically. 'What was it that nice lassie behind the desk said? Five hundred Schottic-Pounds per bag?'

Gary shot his former Chairman a look, but his eyes were fixed on the road. Given that Gary was a professional footballer, the thousand pounds in compensation meant little compared to the fact that almost all his worldly possessions had been blown to smithereens. The woman behind the help desk had even given him sly wink when she read the amount out, as if she were trying to suggest he'd landed on his feet. "We can't say fairer than that!" She'd said as she took down his bank account details.

Gary had only been back in civilisation for a day, and he already had to fight the temptation to through in the towel. He should have known when he found himself sat next to a toddler on the plane that it was going to be one of those days. He was given further warning when the child's mother came up to him and said that due to a mix up, they were seated two rows in front, and asked if Gary could please hold a sick bag for him.

'Is it nice to be back in sunny Schottia then?' Cleggman was either oblivious to Gary's current aversion to conversation, or he was just ploughing on anyway. Cleggman was one of those people who found no use for silence, or quite contemplative time. Gaps in conversation came with an invite to fill them. He had always struck Gary as a bit of a bulldozer, in the sense that he just forced his way through life. There was no subtlety to him, he was never sly - rather it was his ability to force himself upon people, and ram his ideas through regardless that had got him to where he was.

'No, I would honestly rather be eaten alive by my own chicken than spend another second either in this car or in your company.'

There was moment where their eyes met, followed by a full ten seconds of palpable tension. 'Ahhahahah!' Cleggman slapped the Chatswood midfielder othe thigh, with a force that created a loud clap. 'You had be there for a second you old fucker.'

Cleggman's house, which he shared with his wife and two children was on the outskirts of Handon, in an area called Willowbrae. It was North Handon, but Posh North Handon. There were distances here between the detached houses, it was far from the main roads, and the supermarkets had deli counters. There was a bowling green, a good state school, and friendly people who smiled at you in the street. At the far end of the garden was a large shed with double doors, and a small Perspex window on either side. It looked new, most likely expensive, and was nestled amongst the trees and rhododendron bushes at the far end of the Cleggmans' lawn.

'So this is where you'll be sleeping.' Cleggman unbolted the door and swung it open. 'Just like you asked. There's your bed, with fresh sheets, I had my wife wash them specially.' He stood in the middle of the floor, gesturing with open arms for Gary to look around. 'Camping stove, plates, cups, there's your oats. I've even remembered your fresh ginger.' Cleggman lifted a piece of root as big as his fist, and handed it to the player, who seemed a little shell shocked, but slowly warming to his surroundings.

Gary inspected everything at length before standing back and eventually giving a brief, yet satisfied nod. 'That's pretty good actually,' he muttered, but lound enough so that Cleggman heard it.

'Okay,' He said with a hefty pat on Gary's shoulder. 'I'll give you some time to get settled, then I was wondering if you would join my family and I for dinner?' He watched Gary for some form of answer, but the footballer remained still. 'It was my wife's idea, but she's made something especially for you. Organic couscous, and roasted garden vegetables.'

After a time Gary gave a short nod of the head, not much, but enough for Cleggan to interpret the yes he was looking for. 'Excellent. Well aye, make yourself at home and I'll give you a shout in a couple of hours.' He was clearly considering adding something, maybe about the bags, but thought better of it. 'Okay... Okay... Have fun.'

Gary placed his small cabin bag down on the bed, and took a seat beside it. The shed was dry, and looked as if it had been freshly cleaned for his arrival. However it still had that kind of shedy smell, grass cutting, an oiliness from the tools. Goodness knows where Clegmann had put his things, but they were nowhere to be seen. Gary removed his shoes and socks, and lifted each foot in turn giving it a gentle rub. It was spring in Schottia, but that never said much, April and May had the potential to be just as cold a January or February, so he could have some chilly nights to look forward to. Staring out through the large double doors, he was relieved to discover he couldn't see the Cleggmans house, which was obscured mostly behind a large hedge. For the most part he could only see a lawn, which was reasonably well tended, although a little mossy in parts. At sporadic intervals there were daffodils and crocuses sporting up in clumps.

Gary linked his hands together above his head and gave himself a good stretch. He could feel his entire vertebra and joints cracking, as he relieved some much needed pressure.

After he had set some water on to boil and chopped some root ginger, he emptied the contents of his bag. Two books, a toothbrush, a bar of soap, and half a bag of mixed nuts. Other than the clothes he was standing in, he didn't have another thing in the world. Well, it couldn't have been worse... No that was lie, this was about as bad as it got.

[Sargossa]

Brham, Darmen.

There was an electricity in the air. Electricity and tension. There was the buzz of noise as fifty-four thousand fans settled in for an evening of drama. The Darmeni organisers had probably anticipated a healthy demand for tickets for this Rushmori derby but they’d never have guessed quite how much would be riding on the outcome of this clash between Group 12’s fourth and fifth seeds. Because Group 12 was the World Cup group that nobody seemed to want to win. With three games left to go Starblaydia led the way on twenty-nine points, Sargossa occupied the second qualification position on twenty-six and Darmen were just a single point further back. This particular Rushmori derby suddenly had massive implications.

The sports coverage in Sargossa had featured the faces of five individuals, three men, a woman and an elf, who have been masterminding the drama. The fate of Nur al Din Lambert was potentially tied into this very fixture, his bosses had placed ambitious demands upon him. His opposite number, Rafael Barrios, was as safe in his own job as anyone could be. Regardless of how the group would finish Barrios had performed miracles with a side ranked 128th in the world. If Starblaydi demands for a sixth world title fazed coach Ázëwyn Fëanáro you’d never know. The steely eyed elf had led her charges to the top of the group and, although progression was by no means yet assured, they remained the bookies favourites to stay there. Something Mercedini’s David Bjanasson could only dream of at this point. The second seeds were hanging on but their chances of another World Cup appearance was starting to fade away, along with the crowds at the Zoloroni Sports City Stadium.

But that coverage was dropped pretty swiftly after the news broke from Nephara. That a football coach is under an almighty pressure is a given. The fact that pressure is magnified when said coach has the hopes of an entire nation on their shoulders is also an inescapable fact. What that pressure actually does to an individual should probably be the subject of greater discussion. When Barrios and Cormorants coach Amethyst Fegelein exchanged handshakes following the goalless draw in Goza no one would have dreamed of the inner turmoil the Nephara boss was going through. Not until its tragic conclusion.

On the pitch of the Brham Stadium the warm-ups were winding down and players in both green and blue were heading back towards the dressing rooms. The nervous buzz from the stands continued as fans went over their predictions, analysed team selections or made sure their phones had access to all the goings on from the group’s three other fixtures. All the five contenders were in action today but only here in Darmen would two actually collide. The maths was as straightforward as this group ever got. A Sargossan win would keep at least a three point cushion between the Corsairs and their next nearest rivals for second spot. A Darmeni victory would see the All-Greens take that second place. A draw would ensure that Group 12 stayed painfully close. It was quite the occasion, one that had prompted Sargossan state president Gregorio Emparán hop onto his jet and take a seat in the VIP section alongside his opposite number Tor Tong Lee.

The national anthems were belted out with suitable aplomb and the crowd noise built as the captains exchanged pennants and posed for the traditional pictures with the officials and mascots. In the dugouts the respective technical staffs settled into their places. Rafael Barrios sat, deep in conversation with his long-time assistant Carlos Ramos, while Nur al Din Lambert stood in his technical area, impatient for the kick-off. He didn’t have long to wait as mere moments later the referee blew his whistle, Norton touched the ball to Butler and the match was on.

[Starblaydia]

Part One: Takeaway
Part Two: Duchess
Part Three: Fidget
Part Four: Torque
Part Five: Omen
Part Six: Leap
Part Seven: Screams
Part Eight: Iota
Part Nine: Death
Part Ten: Wrong
Part Eleven: Happy

"Why did it take so long?"

Simeone Di Bradini could only look at Ázëwyn Fëanáro and try to think of an answer to the question. Simeone was not one of those people who could start speaking and think of something correct to say halfway through a sentence. He needed to think of what he wanted to say first, then make sure he said it right. Some people thought this made him contemplative and reflective, while those who are used to people opening their mouths without thinking first assumed he was just a dumb footballer. This was one conversation he didn't want to ruin by not thinking properly first.

"How do you mean?" he said, eventually.

"Why," she said patiently, "did it take so long for you to come back to me?"

He leaned forward on his elbows, bringing his hands together as he thought. The cogs turned in his mind as Ázëwyn sipped at her red wine, with the delicate tinkling of a piano drifting softly over the restaurant. The lights were low and the conversation from the tables around them was polite and in low murmurs, as no-one in Starblaydia really liked to cause a fuss in public.

"When did we first meet?" Simeone offered by way of a non-answer.

"Ah," Ázëwyn said, seizing on what she assumed would be his point, jabbing her finger at him from across the table, before picking up her knife to continue attacking her beef course, "we first met, let's say, for the sake of argument, round it to a millenium. A millenium ago. Give or take."

"Nnnno," Simeone said, grabbing his water glass, leaving the wine aside for the moment, "We first met about eighty years ago." He took a sip from his water. "Or, we first met about a hundred and fifty years ago. Or a thousand. Or all three."

"That," she replied after finishing to daintily chew and swallow a mouthful of the incredibly expensive, yet equally tasty and presented, food, "makes no sense. We can only have met for the first time once."

"Not when you're," Simeone swirled the icy water around in his glass as he searched for the word, "whatever the hell we are."

"Elenmacilië," she quickly said, "and I think, technically, Dreamed Realm Construct of a human. But why can we meet more than once?"

"Okay," Simeone said, "this is going to be more questions, but if there isn't a point to all of them by the end you can, I dunno, stab me with a fork or something."

"Deal," Ázëwyn replied with a smile, "and if you're half as tender as this beef, then I might cut a slice."

"Fair enough, I am so warned," Simeone gathered his thoughts for a moment, with a forkful of perfectly-cooked vegetables in a divine sauce that complemented all the flavours on the plate to a level he hadn't been sure was possible. "When I first met you, I'd lived a long, long, life as a normal human, and I'd died at about a hundred and twenty or so." He could see Ázëwyn was about to interrupt him, but he headed that off. "Wait, let me finish. No stabbings yet; I'm not a Bazalonian steak. I was born, oh I don't know, about two hundred and seventy years ago-"

"Clearly not," Ázëwyn couldn't help herself, "as we met ten centuries ago before that..." she hesitated, "time."

"Hear me out," Simeone insisted, "one fine day around World Cup 40, I was pottering around at home, as you do, and then nothing. I remember awakening in the Dreamed Realm, young-ish and spritely, just as Juan had promised me. It's something very special to be given that kind of honour in the Dreamed Realm, and they know how thankful I am for it. It took me a while to decide if I was actually me or not, but by this point I figure it doesn't actually matter. Anyway, I met you around the time of when you and the other ten Starblaydi Elves came to play for our us. You looked at me strangely, and I wasn't sure what it was going on, because I didn't know Elves or you or what was to come later. I assumed you just knew I was famous and were being nice. Little did I know we had such a long history."

"But at that point," Ázëwyn said, having listened, for her, very patiently indeed, "I'd not seen you in hundreds of years. I'd stopped counting, really, I thought you'd forgotten me."

"As if."

"Well, humans are stupid," she shrugged.

"I hadn't forgotten you," Simeone said, staring directly into her eyes, "because I hadn't met you before then." He held up his hands to silence her protest, and used the opportunity to pop a morsel into his mouth. "Excuse fingers. Anyway, about ten Cups later, I forget which one off hand because I've seen way too many and time essentially has no meaning any more - something in the mid fifties, Fifty-Five maybe? I, and Jose Miguel Planudes, got sent back in time thanks to Lord Jagged's terribly unscientific usage of a device called the Pantochronometer."

"This sounds like the opening to a trashy novel."

"Oh, it gets better," he smiled, "or worse, I don't know, you be the judge. There, in Starblaydia's past - about a thousand years ago - I became, or replaced, or was predestined, or... whatever. I am who they talk about, when they talk about King Oberyn, Oberyn Starblayde."

"I never kept up with human myth and legend," Ázëwyn said, "but I know that's been the subject of some terrible books and movies."

"Well that was me, and that's where I met a young warrior, of the Elenmacilië, no less," his pronunciation was, remarkably, perfect, "who was a slip of a girl at just three-thousand..." he tailed off, swallowing the words into a low mumble, receiving a giggle for his delicate handling of revealing a lady's age. "And when I greeted her by name, because I'd rather prominently met her forty years or so previously, and watched her destroy midfields and defences on the way to being Starblaydia's top cap-winner and score almost twice as many goals as me, and because she was beautiful and famous and intelligent and well dressed and-"

"Funny," she interrupted with some half-chewed food in her mouth, "don't forget funny."

"I'd say 'weird'," Simeone said with a helpless shrug, "but I guess funny is as good a word, too. And, when I greeted this lady, carrying a bow and a sword, by name, she looked at me like, I don't know what."

"Like a presumptuous arrogant human who'd somehow learned my name and believed he had the right to use it," Ázëwyn admitted, turning her palms up in a gesture of liability, "but it didn't take long before you earned it."

"Thank-you," Simeone nodded. "So, we met for the first time twice. It doesn't help that we both looked exactly the same both times, despite them being a thousand years apart. All because of the great big wibbley-wobbley timey-wimey ball that is the Frostican realm. Causing more confusion than is necessary since the after the universe ended, until just before it began."

"That makes even less sense."

"Welcome to real life," Simeone said, impaling the final piece of his dish on the tip of his fork. "and the perils of being immortals where only one of us was accidentally a time traveller."

"So now what do we do?" Ázëwyn asked, placing her cutlery delicately in the middle of her plate, and sliding it forward half an inch, which even the least-trained of the twenty serving staff discreetly placed around the restaurant would have noticed as the moment to remove that course.

"Wait ten minutes for dessert, I'd say," Simeone picked up his wine glass and held it between them. "To figuring out what to do."

"To figuring out what to do," Ázëwyn mimicked, raising her own glass to touch them together with a soft chime. "Together."

---

Greatest Qualifying Group Ever?
'Group of Death' enters final phase

World Cup 78's twelfth Qualifying Group is perhaps the greatest spectacle in living memory. That's the view from across the multiverse, as commentators from every nation involved and beyond remark on the close play, great matches and almost unbearable tension as we move into the final three games. Sometimes this table has felt like it was upside down, with Darmen's reigns and, to be truthful, Starblaydia sitting on top of the group. Though probably unfairly marked as a Pot 3 nation, the White and Purples were never really expected to be three points clear at the top of the leaderboard with three games to go, lovely as it is. Even a cursory examination of rank, position, form and the other sections of the tables tells one of the most confused stories that anyone at the Chron can remember.

Starblaydia are the third-highest ranked team in the group, with the second-highest goals tally and best defence. Sargossa, the "worst" team in the group with a ranking of 127th in the KPBs, have beaten the leading team home and away, but are still three points behind them, with a similarly-good defence. They have the best form, going unbeaten in their last eight games. Behind them, the team who led all the way until Starblaydia finally handed them their first loss of the campaign, Darmen. The 89th ranked side in the world still need to play the two teams sitting above them, and their game against Sargossa in the next matchday will go a long way towards deciding the fate of the teams in this group; it's definitely the tie of the round from a neutral, or interested party's point of view.

Behind them, two points back, come that World Cup 74 champions, top-seeded Nephara and their lofty position of ninth in the world. If Sargossa-Darmen is the tie of the next matchday, then Starblaydia-Nephara is the one the world will be watching on the matchday after. After being held to a draw by the travelling Starblaydia six matches ago, the Stadii Di Bradini will be rocking with support for the home side, knowing that a win over Nephara should all-but-guarantee the progression of Ázëwyn Fëanáro's side. The Starblaydi Manager was even spotted having dinner with World Cup legend Simeone Di Bradini recently, obviously after some tips on how to bring the team to the Finals from the four-time World Champion Player and Coach.

Four points further back, and with only the slimmest of chances to qualify, is top-scoring Mercedini, who still dream of going to their second straight World Cup Finals. With an enormous forty-two goals scored, the top-32 side can feel unjustly treated, as their four draws and four losses have left them relying on the most unlikely series of results: firstly Starblaydia has to destroy all before them in the forms of Darmen and Nephara to race away with first place, while the only points both Sargossa and Darmen can pick up would be a draw with each other. Nephara would then have to not-beat both Makongo and Yuezhou, as Mercedini win both their final matches. It is mathematically possible, but so unlikely as to beggar belief if it did happen. But, then again, anything appears to be possible in this incredible group.

Starblaydia managed to travel to the two sides ranked above them, Mercedini and Nephara, and get draws. So far, in the return leg, they've beaten Mercedini. If, after navigating a trip to a too-late resurgent Yuezhou side successfully, they could also defeat Nephara, then qualification for the first time since World Cup 73 would be guaranteed. Ideally, four points could get Starblaydia out of this group. Five would be great, if a couple of other results went correctly, but six would be unassailable. Unfortunately, that has to come against former World Champions, and a team who want to ensure that their time at the top of the group wasn't a flash in the pan. All the while, the other side in the sexy ediraf kits are snapping at their heels, trying to prove their worth.

This is surely going to be a run-in for the ages, and the Chron is dedicated to bringing you the best analysis and coverage of Starblaydia anywhere in print, or online. If you'd like to take the time to support our independent journalism, please make a contribution, become a subscriber, or support the free, fair and open reporting that you come to read us for. Just click one of the following links.

 Group Table (Non-eliminated teams)

   Group 12                             Pld    W   D   L    GF   GA   GD   Pts   Max   
 1 Starblaydia (46)                      13    9   2   2    33   14  +19    29    38
 2 Sargossa (127)                        13    7   5   1    24   15   +9    26    35  
 3 Darmen (89)                           13    7   4   2    32   17  +15    25    34
 4 Nephara (9)                           13    6   5   2    25   15  +10    23    32
 5 Mercedini (31)                        14    6   4   4    42   30  +12    22    28

 Final Matches

 Starblaydia    Sargossa          Darmen            Nephara           Mercedini       
 Yuezhou (A)    Darmen (A)        Sargossa (H)      Makongo (H)       St Saratoga (A)
 Nephara (H)    St Saratoga (H)   Makongo (A)       Starblaydia (A)   Tveidalen (H)
 Darmen  (A)    Tveidalen (A)     Starblaydia (H)   Yuezhou (H)       -              

 TJC Prediction                                                                       
 4 pts, 1st*    7 pts, 2nd*       5 pts, 4th        9 pts, 3rd        6 pts, 5th

 *Starblaydia over Sargossa on Goal Difference

[Valladares]

The National Kickoff
The Online Home of Valladar Football!

It's Two Spots For Three

By: Alan Rosero

The battle for qualification for the finals of this upcoming World Cup (at least here in Group 8) will be going down to the wire, with Valladares, Jeruselem, and Electrum as the only sides still with chances to make it to Cosumar and Bonesea and separated by only 5 points with 3 matches to go. The infamous Princesses from Jeruselem, who have been struggling for ages in this kind of competitions are somehow topping the group and found themselves with a great chance to start booking their tickets to the main footballing event of the multiverse: having a 4-point gap with Valladares and a 7-point one with Electrum, Jeruselem just needed to beat Kecrazia to have qualification all but clinched, but.....BOOM! They tied! And both Electrum and Valladares won their games, so things in this group got more interesting. Not to the interesting level of Group 12, where Darmen, Starblaydia, and Nephara are all having a heated battle of their own in the proclaimed "Group of Death" of this WC qualification process, but...

So let's talk about what happened last night at the National Stadium, where the Valladars did just what they had to do against minnows like Kosovakia: beat them. And beat them by a wide margin. The 6-2 victory isn't only useful to get La Nacional closer to yet another World Cup finals, but it also relieves Dhanda & company from some of the high amount of pressure that had been piled up their heads after this subpar qualifying campaign Valladares is having, which is starting to become an usual sight. Anyways, the 80,000 people who attended the match against Kosovakia witnessed the return of the "Dhanda steamroller", at a very convenient moment in time: the Valladars had in wingers Angelo Farías and Abel Brücke their main weapons to torn Kosovakia's defense to pieces by using their speed, and precisely the first Valladar goal came after just 8 minutes of play, when Brücke tested his luck with a long shot that drilled the Kosovakian last line of defense and went to the back of the net to put the hosts ahead. Kosovakia were dealt another hard blow almost immediately, after one of their defenders fouled Carlos Alberto Sáez in the box and the referee awarded Valladares with a penalty kick. Pedrinho, with his usual cold head exchanged the penalty for a goal to make things 2-0 in the 10th minute. The Valladar onslaught continued with Frank Rozenthal scoring twice between the 23rd and 35th minutes to lift the NT to a comfortable 4-0 advantage, although Kosovakia, in a rare moment of distraction from Patrick Courtois, managed to pull one back before the halftime whistle.

The second half started with Jayson Dhanda recalling Frank Rozenthal and sending the reliable Tanrısal striker Adam Pinto to the pitch, as he has been doing for the entirety of this WCQ campaign. Pinto has replied to all that confidence received from the Osarian gaffer with goals, and this time was not the exception, with the former Étoile Verte player snatching the ball from a Kosovakian player, blitzing through two rival defenders and then shooting the ball into the goal for the 5-1 in the 52nd minute of play. And even though Kosovakia still had arguments to score one last goal with a counterattack in the 70th minute of play, Angelo Farías wasn't willing to leave without his much-deserved prize for his efforts during the match and scored the sixth Valladar goal when the clock was marking the 81st minute after receiving a great pass from Wilfried Baume, who had substituted Sáez right after the second Kosovakian goal, thus rounding up, in my opinion, one of the best performances by the Valladar NT this cycle, along with the one in the game against Scottopian Isles here in Metropolis, which also ended 6-2.

The win was of great help to the Valladar hopes of grabbing one of Group 8's two available tickets for Cosumar and Bonesea, as it helps us pass the 30-point mark and strenghten our grip on second place, while still having top spot in sight. As I was saying, Jeruselem fortunately failed to beat Kecrazia and this event reopened the fight for Valladares and Electrum, who after losing to us in Centralis went to Union of Socialist Alpine Republics and beat them 1-0, getting back on track. The bad news for the silly Princesses and us is that both teams still have their bye day, whilst the Electrumites will have action in the last 3 matchdays of qualifying. Worst of all, Valladares will have their last bye on the last matchday, so that means winning their last 2 games (starting with Cosneolta) is an obligation for La Nacional if they want to be one of the 32 teams that will be present in that party called World Cup finals. Needless to say, this situation already happened to us in the past, in a group involving Zenic and Kirisaki, and the outcome was rather favourable for us, stealing top spot and automatic qualification on our last day of play, so it's highly feasible to make a repeat performance. Oh, and it's 100% sure that Electrum or Jeruselem (or even both!) will drop points at this point, since both will be facing each other on the last matchday. Ha ha! Turns out things aren't that bad for us after all! Onward, Valladares!

[Turori]

Cocoa-bo, an establishment taking its name directly from the beloved national animal of Turori, started as a small dessert shop in Kionao. However, it was only after they added chocolate topped drinks to their menu that their popularity started to soar. As more and more patrons scooped up their chocolate flavored pick-me-ups, demand for the Cocoa-bo product skyrocketed and soon new franchised locations were popping up all throughout Turori. Shifting to more of a social 'hang-out' then just a casual place to drop in, get a dessert, and leave, the new locations started adding small foods such as Bagels for the morning, Soups and Sandwiches for Lunch or Dinner and Salads for the entire day. Cocoa-bo has expanded outside of Vilita & Turori. Their first regional location was opened in Andossa Se Mitrin Vega and the company continues to explore avenues to further increase its image, expanding the company footprint across Atlantian Oceania and beyond.

Cocoa-bo is now taking its latest marketing campaign, "Everything's Better With Cocoa-bo" on the road along with the Turori National Team, bringing to bus stops, digital screens and social outlets the image of the host countries flag and backstory 'altered' to show how it would be "Better with Cocoabo"...
...However, there are a few nations out there that a majority of Turorians would feel would *Not* be better with Cocoabo... at least in the short term. Namely, the competing host nations for the upcoming 70th edition of the Cup of Harmony. While Turori is one of the most successful teams in the History of the Cup of Harmony competition, their fanbase does aspire for more. While winning trophies is always fun; the heartbreak of losing out in the Semi-Finals during the Cosumarite hosted Cup of Harmony 69 has left Turorian fans wanting a second chance - a return trip to Cosumar to take another chance at a deep World Cup Run. Being a loyal, nation-first company whose first and foremost priority is the homeland that gave it its start, Cocoa-bo has no intention of offending its primary consumer base with a marketing campaign centered around how potential Cup of Harmony host nations would be better with Cocoabo. Instead, they have taken the opportunity to have a look at the addition of what, instead of Cocoabo, would make the prospective Cup of Harmony Host Nations better.

---

Apox

Nephara

If there were a brains and a braun in the Apox / Chromatika Cup of Harmony 70 bid then without a doubt Apox would qualify as the Brains. Having been the nation that submitted the actual bid for consideration to the World Cup Committee, the nation which is listed first in all references of the bid, the nation which is alphabetically first and the nation whom presents all of their information first in bidding materials, Apox has clear made itself out to be the more important of the two nations in the bid team.

Wait, does that make them the Brains or the Braun? Have they hard-nosed Chromatika out of the way by force, using their braun to take all the glory while Chromatika waits strategically on the sidelines - allowing Apox to take the fall should the bid fail? What shenanigans!

Given that new evidence, lets try that again.

If there were a brains and a braun in the Apox / Chromatika Cup of Harmony 70 bid then without a doubt Apox would be the braun.

Relegating their bid-partner into virtual non-existence, Apox has stolen the limelight in all interactions with the World Cup Committee surrounding their bid. Despite having only just resurfaced on the international scene, the flying platypus seem ready to jump back into things and have come out flipper flailing to fight off various attacks delivered in the form of benign and honest questions by the opposition bidder, Spaam.

Speaking of flailing flippers, Former World Champions Nephara have been flailing a bit of their own in the World Cup's second-most-interesting Group; Group 12. Led by the resurgent Purple Peril by the will of Di Bradini thy will be done. Thy will currently sees Nephara 4th and falling quickly after lacklustre performances such as the goalless draw against Sargossa that could have seen the Cormorants climb back into the mix. The Cormorants were clearly in a nose dive and seem to be continuing that nose dive, diving straight toward the Cup of Harmony. As margaret always needs a big name or two to highlight the Cup of Harmony Field; in lieu of Cocoabo; wouldn't Apox be better with Cormorants?

Chromatika

Ceni

If there were a brains and a braun in the Apox / Chromatika Cup of Harmony 70 bid then without a doubt Chromatika would qualify as the Brains. While it wasn't obvious at first, Chromatika have smartly decided to play the conservative card in the Cup of Harmony elections allowing bid partner Apox to take all the heat from the piranha-infested voting committee. Quality of bid not considered, Chromatika has at least a 75% chance of being on the losing end of the Cup of Harmony host voting and to be the public face of two-consecutive failed World Cup Committee sanctioned event hosting bids would likely not be a huge morale booster for the citizens of Chromatika.

After a successful hosting of the AOCAF competition, the multiverses premier Regional Sporting event, Chromatika appeared destined for World Cup 78 hosting duties along with fellow Atlantian Oceania nation Valanora. Then, however, in swooped another regional rival Cosumar breathing fire from the deck of a scurvy ship of bones down on the Valanora-Chromatika World Cup 78 party.

Now, trying to mend the pieces of a broken bid, Chromatika are looking to put that already-staged infrastructure to good use in earning the right to host the World Cup Committee's second most prestigious event - and avoid a second consecutive voting defeat.

Speaking of trying to mend the pieces; Group 9's top seed Ceni have been broken a bit themselves in World Cup Qualifying and currently sit in 3rd position outside the World Cup Qualification places. Perhaps they were too focused on their ongoing elections and the quest for political power and too distracted to collect maximum points against unranked opponents; or Perhaps they just should never have been a top seed to begin with. But whatever the reason, the Cocoabo are thankful for it is currently only for the slip-ups of Ceni that the inconsistent Turori National Team is slimly holding on to second place in Group 9. With a critical head-to-head duel between the two nations still on the cards, Turori will have to hope for some Cocoabo magic in order to put Ceni away for good and secure Turori's place in the World Cup Final. For that reason, of course, in lieu of Cocoabo; wouldn't a Cup of Harmony in Chromatika be better with Ceni?

Disclaimer: Cocoa-bo does not endorse any specific bid for the Cup of Harmony, nor does the inclusion of bid nations in its marketing material intend to imply endorsement or probability of victory. The current Cup of Harmony bids are: Eshan & Drawkland; Apox & Chromatika; Qasden/Spaam and Vilita / Tropicorp

[Savojarna]

SavojarSports.sj - inside reports from all Savojarna
Resting before the finish: Savojarna's chances after the Bye Day

The goal originally set by the Savojar management was to finish in the top half of their qualifying group (4th or better), which would be one place ahead of our seeding - and things are looking fairly okay for that. But with second-placed teams qualifying directly for the World Cup for the first time in years, the thought of going for more was obviously prevalent in players' heads. And now, looking at the table three games before the end of qualifying, it is easy to see why. Savojarna has managed to avoid their old illness of dropping points against equal or worse-ranked nations, and has finally managed a pretty much flawless campaign against teams like Yesopalitha, Poggers and Goluta. Furthermore, we have gotten our revenge against the corporate team of EEC, who dealt a painful, bitter and heavily disputed 3-2 defeat to us at the Baptism of Fire three years ago. However, the most impressive feat of our Northern Lights has been their surprising home draw against Brenecia, shutting out the top seed of the group for 90 minutes to keep one point in Sjoedrhavn. After our bye day, Savojarna is placed third, four points behind Qasden but with one game in hand and with the rematch in Qasden still waiting.

They will be our first opponent coming up in two days, and it is potentially the most difficult match to come. Savojarna's home game was a problematic matchup, as Qasden played very aggressively and was able to rip holes into our defence to score four goals opposed to only one by Karjanen. In Qasden, it is unlikely that we will give them as much space again now that we have experienced the danger, but they remain a world-class side that is on their way to the World Cup and will be more than motivated. With a victory, they could go into their own bye day with at least four points reserve to Port Christopher and seven to Savojarna, enough to eliminate us from contention. If we draw the match, we need to get at least four points out of the two last matches and hope for some assistance. However, if our boys pull off an away win in Qasden, we could end up only one point behind them with a game in hand and have qualification still in our own hands, a scenario barely anyone dreamt of shortly before.

The second-last game of the qualifiers will be played at home against Tobiasia. In this round, Qasden will also have a bye day, meaning it is a hugely important match for us. After this round, we will know whether or not we still have a shot at getting to Bonesea and Cosumar on our own or if we have to rely on foreign help in order to make it. If we manage to beat Tobiasia in Sjoedrhavn, we may or may not surpass Qasden depending on the result of the next match, but if we don't, we blow any chance to qualify on our own and will have to rely on the Qads losing points in the final round for sure. The first round in Tobiasia was a dramatic affair where we had been in the lead twice, but ultimately lost the game 3-4. It is very hard to assess how the match may go, as the Tobiasian team has shown qualities but Savojarna also made grave mistakes in this game. It remains to be seen how we will stack up against them if we play on our top, and try not to do these stupid mistakes. It will also be interesting to see whether or not the home advantage does anything to swing this match in our favour as we, of course, hope it will.

Finally, we will have to face Port Christopher who we drew with 3-3 in the first game, but did so at home. The away game will be quite a challenge, not only because they are the second group seed, but also because of the hot climate that Port Christopher is famous for. It will certainly not work in our favour, and we have seen Savojarna struggle with it before. However, the weather will be the same for everyone, and the Savojars have been benefitting from it in quite a few home games as well. Port Christopher, while having some successes like their recent 0-0 in Brenecia, has not been able to be as dominant as some expected the world's Nr. 34 to be and has drawn six games already, putting them behind Savojarna on goal difference. However, they have a slightly easier rest program, and it is not unlikely that at the time we travel to Port Christopher, a victory could bring them to the World Cup. Expect a highly motivated side and a tough battle for Savojarna, but also one where we still may have chances to qualify, which is more than most dared to dream about.

But all this could be no more than a nice dream if we lose in Qasden in two days. Everyone on the team will have to give 120 percent in order to avenge the harsh 1-4 home loss they dealt to us, but all of them will also be hyper-motivated to do so. Overall, we need to be careful and respectful of their team, but it is very important not to freeze in awe because of what happened in Sjoedrhavn the last time. Savojarna will be able to play in their top formation, without any suspended or injured players, and everyone will be well rested after the bye day they received. There will be a total of 8'700 Savojar fans supporting our team in the stadium in Qasden, according to SSA sources, and an estimate of roughly 15'000 more travelling along to watch the game on big screens or in pubs. If you also want to become a supporter of our team in two days, you can do so without leaving the country. The game will, as always, be broadcast live on STV2 from 21:00 onwards, and you can follow it on our SavojarSports.sj live ticker!

[Farfadillis]

Sitting on that bed was Héctor Rossizzo. Héctor Rossizzo had been one of Farfadillis' most successful managers. He had taken an inexperienced Farf squad in the bottom of the KPB rankings to the quarterfinals of the World Cup in just two cycles. After that, he failed to be consistent, but he still did lots of great things. He won an AOCAF Cup. Steffan Pekarik came after him, and he did a little better, but he hadn't taken a amateur-ish national team to those heights.

Héctor, now eighty-one years old, enjoyed watching Farfadillis more than anything. Managing Nepharim side Violence Chariots was getting more and more frustrating by the day. What's worse, he was getting no sense of accomplishment out of it. He felt like he'd gotten the team nowhere in all the years he'd been managing them. That was not the case when he watched his national team. He could still perceive the mark he had left in the team's playing style. Both Pekarik and Çötàvíê had made their own tweaks, but the overall style was still Rossizzo's. Few foreigners know that Farfadillis' traditionally ultra-offensive tactics weren't always like that. As a whole, Farf tactics had always had a preference for attacking football, but nowhere close to the sort of preference you see nowadays. No, that was a direct result of Rossizzo's tenure as manager of the national team.

It was Rossizzo that turned the fullbacks into terrors down the flank. It was Rossizzo that made the midfielders on the flanks almost wingers. It was Rossizzo that made the Farf game this fast and dangerous. It was also Rossizzo that made the Farf defense so leaky. You can't have it all. But Farfadillis had a lot of reasons to thank Rossizzo. Never in the history of Farfadillis were there as many people on the streets celebrating as on the day they won AOCAF Cup 43. He hoped to see something like that again in his lifetime. By this point, he was fairly sure it would only happen if the team somehow came home with the most coveted trophy of them all. He liked to think he'd set them up well for that task. He sure hoped he would live to see that day.

Rossizzo knew the match against Barunia would be do or die, so he had hired the television package at the hospital. Why a hospital would make you pay to be able to watch television was beyond him, but I digress. The team had been extremely disappointing in the qualifiers. Losing would very much mean elimination. What's more, they were going to play away from home, and against the best second seed, going by KPB rankings. But Héctor knew what his team, cause he truly felt it was his, could do when necessary. Not always the best, not always even good, but he'd helped create something formidable.

He had always wondered how the nation would take his death. He was a hero to his country, but the country had more important things to think about in that moment. Would the nation mourn him? Would it miss him? Or would he just be a footnote in its history, remembered occasionally, almost as if his existence had only been a trivial fact of life? How many, if any, would cry, and how much?

As the match began, the heart monitor flatlined. As it turns out, many would cry, and they would cry a lot.

(OOC: I'd like to dedicate this RP to my grandfather, who passed away this Thursday and played a huge role in who I am. As an RP, it's neither lengthy, nor good by my standards, but I believe it sums up my feelings towards him well enough, and I really need somewhere to express myself on this matter)

[Soltsteed]

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Jan-Peter Wietdal’s flat, St Christopher
Evening of 9 July

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He grimaced as he read his bosses’ memorandum.

KÖNINGLIK SOLTSTEEDISCH FOOTBALLSBUND — ROYAL SOLTSTEEDISH FOOTBALL FEDERATION

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The Royal Soltsteedish Football Federation expresses its deepest regret and condemnation at the actions undertaken by ultras at the Soltsteedish national team matches against Frejo and New Danican. The RSFF cannot and will not tolerate riotous behaviour under any circumstances.

We understand the frustration of Soltsteedish supporters after the disappointing results of the previous six matches, but this does not excuse the damage caused to property and to human life by rioting spectators. The actions of Soltsteedish supporters who choose to participate in this type of behaviour reflect poorly on the entire Soltsteedish nation.

Due to excessive structural damage sustained at Meerpark in the riots of 8 July, Soltsteed’s home match against Sulsuland has been moved to the Parc des Amis in Cherrygrove, County Berry. In cooperation with His Majesty’s Government, the Royal Soltsteedish Football Federation provides its greatest assurances to the football associations of Eura and Sulsuland that Soltsteeders who are known to have participated in riots will be barred from attending Soltsteed’s remaining qualifying matches.

We sincerely apologise for any inconvenience.

Things had simply gone too far this time.

The red star, the star of the colour of fire, stared at him—nay—into his soul. Jan-Peter wished he could rip the star out of the arms sitting at the top of the page. If he turned back the clock and lost any of those games against Finland or Heif or Chailanka or Loynn or Acapais or Aggrey-Fynn Land, would this have never happened?

Sitting on the mantle of the faux fireplace was the wretched gold medal. The Stallions stood on the edge of disaster and won a place in football history. Now they had thrown away a golden opportunity to demonstrate their potential. Soltsteed’s reputation—and quite possibly its floating football stadium, as well—was quickly devolving into a pile of smouldering ash.

Jan-Peter snatched the hunk of precious metal and marched over to the open window. Without a word, the manager flung it towards the heavens. Where it wound up, he couldn’t care.

As long as he didn’t have to be reminded of his side’s failures, he couldn’t care.

As long as he didn’t have to be reminded of the wanton destruction, he couldn’t care.

“Go to bloody Hell, you fucking piece of shit!” Jan-Peter screamed to the world as he banged the window shut.

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Royal Soltsteedish Football Federation headquarters, St Christopher
Afternoon of 10 July

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“Excuse me, but who do I speak to about returning something?”

The young man was nervously shaking, medal in his pocket, as he approached the front desk in the empty lobby. He had called the Metropolitan Constabulary as soon as he came across the circular piece of gold sitting on the footpath, worried that someone would come along and steal it for their own less-than-honest purposes.

Staring at the constable standing with the man, the clerk asked with some trepidation “What is it?”

“This,” the man said as he pulled the medallion out. “I think it’s a gold medal of some kind and it says ‘SPAWK’ on it.”

The clerk turned to the man in disbelief. “Are you sure it’s real? There are plenty of people out there who would go through hell to counterfeit a national treasure like that.”

“The Metropolitan Constabulary can confirm that it is legitimate, madam. There were reports last night of a disturbance in Appleward’s Greenhall Tower, with a man screaming in expletive-laden English, throwing something out his window and slamming the window shut. It is public knowledge that the Stallions’ manager lives in Greenhall Tower, so it is not beyond belief that he was the person who caused the disturbance and this was what he threw out the window.”

The clerk nodded. The medal did look to be beaten up, as if it had been thrown against a rough surface. It all made sense.

“I will see what I can do.” The clerk proceeded to take the medal and ask its finder, “Can I get your name and contact information please?”

After further pleasantries, the two visitors departed, leaving the clerk alone to admire the medal. Even in its banged-up state, it was still a treasure. Why would anyone throw this away?

After several minutes of staring, the clerk muttered to herself. “We will get you back to where you belong.” Placing it in a manila envelope and stowing it away under the desk, the clerk would figure out how to get the medal back where it belonged even if it killed her.

[Mriin]

Maal Memoirs
Sports

Mriin Trumps Juvencus, Yet Again

Lavor Prusc
Maal, Mriin

Coming off the frankly ridiculous Mriin-Polar Islandstates match, Don Mizzet's squad seemed more at peace playing a now-familiar Juvencus side. For those of you that may have missed the news on the previous match, the Polarian team has been vastly underperforming except for very brief flashes of brilliance, like managing a draw when visiting Farfadillis, or scoring four unanswered goals in the first half against our own Satyrs. It was later revealed that Hawsorn had been playing with a terrible fever, which accounted for her sluggish reaction time that, in hindsight, directly lead to several of those concessions. However, the real story was the herculean effort put in by first Solara, and then by the entire team, to then score seven unanswered goals. One might recall our first tie with the Polarians ended six-to-one in our favor; we've scored thirteen goals against them in two games. I don't believe most of history's greatest sides have come close to scoring that many on the Polarians, over many more games! It's a surreal and twisted world we live in, to be sure; a world where Nova Anglicana and Jeruselem lead their groups while the Nepharans are languishing in fourth.

Come today's match, though, all that insanity was put aside. What was displayed was just some good, solid football, against a reasonable but outmatched outfit. The Juvens have actually made some waves this qualifying; mostly through notable draws, which kept them out of proper contention for the Finals alongside some expected losses. But it's difficult to complain about two draws with second-ranked Barunia, toppling third-seed Boring Paradise once, and especially keeping the Farves to a scoreless draw in Ferdullaele--which, being the second time I've mentioned that happening in this article, might bode well for our own chances when we give our fellow Atlantian Oceanians on Matchday 15? Well, there I am getting ahead of myself--let's just focus on where we're at now. While the Juven side had put up those relatively impressive results, they were a relatively unknown quantity to the rest of the group. Of course, as has been often mentioned this cycle, it was the Mriinians who ended Juvencus' Baptism of Fire campaign last cycle, a 2-1 victory in the round of sixteen. I wouldn't go as far as to say we "have their number", but our knowledge of their playstyle, as well as the respect we demand of them, certainly gives an edge. This led to the classic conundrum that the Mriinian offense is built around: Do you heavily mark Solara, by far the most prominent and individually dangerous goalscorer for Mriin? That sounds like a good plan, but the multilayered offense Mizzet crafted is well suited to punish that sort of play. Vocani and Krueger may not be the most dangerous on their own but combine excellently as pass specialists who can strain a stretched defense to their limit. And if the opposing team pulls back to sole defensive duty to try and contain those two as well? Polandre and Swurm gain total control of the midfield and are both proficient shots in their own right, who will take advantage of an opponent that doesn't respect that.

Mriin pulled ahead early with more or less the classic execution of that plan: Nicolò Bassi and Valerio Scarpa were assigned to Solara full-time. Nino Russo and Filipe Rodrigues couldn't contain the aggressive advances of Kreuger and Polandre. Swurm, Kurung, and an aggressive Lavoi tied up the midfield behind them, and it all came down to Dudu Madeiros could rein in Vocani--which he has done several times before, Vocani had yet to find the net against Juvencus. But experiencing failure is how you improve, and Vocani managed to get past Madeiros quickly enough that Taddeo Bulgari in goal was caught off guard, barely having time to attempt a save. And that's a pivotal point of the game, when that first goal is scored--how does the receiving team react? In particular, with this strategy, it's interesting to see which teams reactively play a more spread out defense to protect against those sorts of intrusions. Which, naturally, gives Solara more room to maneuver and make her own chances. But the Juvens remained strong, putting their faith in shutting down our keynote scorer to keep things near-level as long as possible, and that worked out well for them. A little more reactive play from their defenders and better positioning from the midfield left Mriin with only low-percentage shots from, while capable, not incredible goalscorers. Bulgari had a much easier time for the remainder of the half, to say the least. The Juvens even managed a handful of drives themselves, but our defense was on their game today, much more so than usual. Qual Yon specifically showed off some of the skills that got her into a starting position despite her age, several times using clever positioning to overcome her lack of speed to surprise Joaquim Martell and Jaumet Albert with aggressive tackles, effectively killing their momentum.

The second half would largely play out similarly, with cautious probes into the other half being quite effectively stonewalled by vigilant defenders. It wasn't until the seventy-fifth minute that Kreuger was able to find Vocani with a deep cross and set up a proper opportunity, the latter receiving it on the left side of the box and immediately cutting hard right to catch Madeiros on the wrong foot. Solara had even managed to get free of her marks and blitz into the box to support him, but that wasn't necessary--as soon as Vocani cleared Madeiros he spun to launch the ball to left, crashing to the ground from the momentum. Thankfully he didn't get hurt in the fall, getting back up quickly to celebrate his first multi-goal game in ages, even sharing an endearing hug with his strike partner. Sadly, Vocani seemed to be the only one interested in setting up a hat trick for himself--the rest of the Mriinians fell back to ride out the two-oh lead. The Juvens found their next chance far too late, and when Hawsorn solidly caught the powerful shot from Oriol Vives the writing was on the wall.

Mriin - 2
Vocani 18', 75'
Juvencus - 0

[Aggrey-Fynn Land]

LANDER SPORTS NETWORK TV

Your plug for all things sport.

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MORNING SPORTS REVIEW LIVE

Karina: Good Morning Aggrey-Fynn Landers! Thanks for tuning in to Lander Sports TV. My name is Karina Katie, and this is my co-anchor Tyson Rufus.
Tyson: Thanks Karina! It is 7 in the morning here in Samueltown, so it is time for the sports review.

AGGREY-FYNN LAND GETS THEIR REVENGE

K: Well, Aggrey-Fynn Land finally got their rematch against Mytanar Region.
T: And boy, they did not miss their chance! The game ended in a 4-0 victory for Aggrey-Fynn Land!
K: A huge victory. This win equals the largest win in their history, which was also a 4-0 win against Sarrbia.
T: The stakes were raised, as Donny Tremors still had not apologized for his insults against Mytanar Region.
K: There were reports of verbal altercations between the fans outside the stadium before and after the game.
T: Well, the Wavy Ones didn't let it get to them! They let off their steam on the field, and got four goals.
K: The win seemed to exorcize the demons created by their first loss. The team seemed more relaxed afterwards.
T: It was also a big win symbolically. The win keeps them in contention to qualify, although the path is still tough.
K: They will need to keep up the unbeaten streak if they want to be in the world cup.
T: Which will not be easy, considering that their next two games are against the two best teams in the group.
K: They will need to be at their best to move on.

[Flardania]

Aincrad Stadium
Akihabara
Minazuki Prefecture|Kirishima
9:00 PM local time

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After a terrific match at the Aincrad where the Kitsunes won 5-2 against Heif in which Renée Guidice scored her first career hat trick in either domestic or international play. Joseph Yabuta scored two goals of his own as well. Now with a joyous atmosphere, the Kitsunes squad entered the locker room.

"3 more wins and we are golden!" Miguel Tamayo, the young rookie who was a refuge from the collapsed Philippines exclaimed as he burst into the locker room first as the rest of the team filed in.

"True but first and more importantly what a great game from Renée today." a mysterious person spoke as she walked out of the blind spot near the doorway.

Many of the team turned to look only to see it was the chairwoman of the KFA Sakura Katsuragi.

"Katsuragi-san. What brings you here today?" Seong Mi-Soo asked as she walked in.

"Ah yes well I was in town for a board meeting and I figured I would watch the game. Mind if we speak in private?

"Uh....yes off-course" Seong Mi-Soo stated as she went out into the hall with Katsuragi.

"Don't worry things may look good for you if you succeed in escaping the group during world cup proper." Katsuragi stated with a warm smile

[Bonesea]

[Ceni]

Cowboys and Fangirls
Chapter 4: A Nice Dinner to Cap Off the Night

The hostess at the Lapis Lazuli eyed Andrew and Liam a bit warily, as if the two were famed gunslingers and outlaws about to walk into her fine Western saloon and tear up the place. “Y’all are gonna have to take off those hats in here,” she finally said after giving them a quick once-over. “Might as well take off those sunglasses too,” she added. “It’s fairly dark in here.”

Andrew squinted to adjust to the low lighting in the restaurant; the hostess was right. “Can we at least leave them on until we get to our table?” he said, lowering his voice to a whisper. “We’d prefer to conceal our faces for a little while. And can we have a table near the back of the restaurant?”

“Ah, somebody famous, are you?” she said sarcastically.

“Actually, yes,” said Andrew.

“Yeah, right.” The hostess’s tone indicated that she didn’t believe him. “For your trouble, you can sit right there… in front of the window. And take your hats off right here.” Andrew pulled out his ID, and motioned for Liam to take his out too. The hostess’s eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything for a little while. Then she erased their seat assignment in the front and scrawled an x at the table near the back. “Right this way,” she said, her voice noticeably hushed and her tone substantially less snappy. “And don’t bother with your hats.” To Andrew, her voice sounded almost deferent now. He hazarded a guess that she supported Real Azuris.

They passed through the restaurant on the way to their back table. Whoever had decorated it had taken the restaurant’s theme of azure in mind, for he had covered the walls with a blue wallpaper that seemed to sparkle whenever the light hit it, imitating the sparkle of the restaurant’s namesake. Photographs of Azuris that included the ocean adorned the walls, emphasizing the azurine color of the seas, and on each table, a dragon figurine made with the opaque blue stone lay in the center, calling to mind the Cosumarite national symbol. Candles flickered on every table, couples engaged in intimate tete-a-tetes, and businessmen discussed their upcoming ventures. The place was clearly trendy, and, considering the decor, expensive, something that Andrew knew when he chose the place, hosted in an old Spanish villa with the stuccoed architecture and wrought-iron railings.

The hostess showed them to their table, a small booth in the back of the restaurant, private and secluded. “Perfect,” said Andrew, and he thanked the hostess, who just nodded and smiled, probably fistpumping inside, wanting to giddily tell her children she had met the famous Andrew Arrowsword himself. Andrew and Liam sat down, and immediately drew a waiter, who poured them glasses of water.

“Welcome to the Lapis Lazuli, my name is Steve, how may I help you today?” the waiter said, rattling off the specials for today. Andrew and Liam looked over the menus that the waiter presented them; the cuisine on offer focused on seafood. After all, Azuris rotated around the sea. Within a few moments, the waiter came back, bearing some bread and ready to take the two’s orders. Andrew chose a seafood Pasta Primavera, with a cream sauce and several different types of seafood; Liam ordered the crab cakes with a mushroom risotto and a rich lobster bisque. The two decided against a bottle of wine; that would raise too many questions.

The conversation first focused on school, and if the two were going to go to college to earn a degree; the consensus was yes, but sometime later. Then it turned to sport, since the two were athletes at the end of the day. Liam asked Andrew how he felt scoring the winning goal in the King’s Cup at the tender age of sixteen. That brought Andrew into a longish recollection about that experience, one that he called one of the most nerve-wracking of his short career.

“The Royal Palace is an imposing venue - only because the King of Cosumar himself is in attendance, and if you screw up in front of the King himself, there goes any sense of pride you have. Of course, being a young teenager back then, I sat on the substitute’s bench for the entire first half - and believe me, I was on the edge of my seat the entire time. For a good twenty minutes, from the first goal for Crawford City, to our first goal, the butterfly circus was on in full swing in my stomach. I was nervous and worried for that period, knowing that I could do nothing to remedy the difference. Everything would have to rest on my teammates, and I wanted to do something, but I knew that as a shrimpy little 16-year-old, I did not have that much of a chance to come in and play. At the time, I also was quite stuck-up and egotistical, some would say; I thought I could win the whole thing single-handedly. Chalk that up to teenage arrogance and the adrenaline pumping through my system. So, I thought that I should have come in any time then to help Azuris get an early lead, but then Georgia Kite put a screamer into the back of the goal to get a lead against Crawford City. I then started to pout about how I was never going to get into that match, being a hormonal teenager and all.”

The food came, interrupting Andrew’s monologue, and the two dug into their meals. After taking a few bites of his food and pronouncing the cream sauce as exquisite, Andrew continued with his tale.

“The halftime whistle blew, and I was daydreaming for the remainder of the first half, not really paying attention to the match anymore. Lujendra Mescalin jolted me when she touched me on the back and told me that I would be coming in the second half. She explained that she wanted to rest some of her key players at the time, and that I could probably do something with my youthful energy.” He paused to take another bite of his pasta primavera, snagging a piece of clam and a luscious-looking piece of broccoli. “I came on, and that rush of adrenaline came to my system as the stadium announcer, with his stentorian tones, said my name. My heart was pounding like a drum. For a moment, I wanted to just freeze in place there, and I started to sweat copiously. I walked out onto the pitch and then I started playing…” He took a drink of his water, and Liam slurped up a bite of his lobster bisque, listening intently. “A lot of the rest of that match was a blur. I kept running back and forth on the pitch, and before I knew it, I was there, right in front of the goal… I dribbled around two of the defenders, and just shot to the side. A feeling of euphoria just washed over me as my teammates crowded around, celebrating the goal, which turned out to be the winning one. We lifted the King’s Cup about thirty minutes later.”

Liam just sat there, silently chewing on his crab cakes. “Wow.”

“I imagine you had a similar feeling when you won your first NSTT title, though, Liam.” Andrew now got to work really eating his pasta; he hadn’t realized how long he had spent telling the story to Liam. He really enjoyed the pasta primavera as he ate it, with its vegetables and its seafood all brought together by the rich cream sauce.

“It was with Harry, so I guess there was something of a team feeling… although it probably wasn’t as good as yours. You had twenty-two other teammates to help you celebrate. It must have been magical for you.”

“It was magical. It was…” Andrew wiped up the last of his cream sauce with a piece of bread. The waiter came by with the check; Andrew put his credit card in, and gave it back. “This meal’s on me. Thanks for coming to Azuris.”

“Sure thing,” said Liam. “I’m glad I could come, and looking forward to spending more time with you here.” The two leaned in towards each other… and their hats bumped into each other. Liam chuckled a bit. “That’s not working.” They took off their hats and moved in again…

[Darmen]

Tor Tong Lee had been sitting with the Sargossan President Gregorio Emparán since the Sargossan had arrived at the stadium almost two hours earlier. The two had exchanged the usual pleasantries expected among world leaders, discussed how the Common Rushmori Community might impact their nation's and the region as a whole, and if the rumors of an end to Euran political and economic dominance of Rushmore might actually be true.

Lee had hated all of it. He had nothing against Emparán personally, but the Sargossan's über confidence, bordering on the arrogant, clashed with Lee's humility. It was making him very uncomfortable.

Adding to his discomfort was the sorry sight taking place on the field below him. The Darmeni performance in the first half had been absolutely pitiful. Not only were the All Greens down a goal, but the Corsairs had dominated possession of the ball, 79% to 21%. Not only that, but the ball had resided in the Darmeni half of the pitch for 32 of the 46 minutes of the first half, and the team's pass completion percentage was less than 40%. It was an absolute miracle that Darmen wasn't trailing by an even larger margin than they were, the Sargossan's had missed 18 of their 19 shots, and all three of Marcellus Ahenobarbus' saves had been rather routine, requiring little effort from the Darmeni keeper.

Lee was fairly certain he was going to be sick. He needed to go home...

"Señor Emparán, please excuse me," said Lee, "I don't feel particularly well, and I think I need to leave before I feel worse. I hope you enjoy the rest of the match."

"Certainly," replied the Sargossan President, "I hope you feel better soon."

Lee got up to leave the VIP box, his security guards taking position around him as they headed for the nearest exit. "I need to return home," said Lee.

"Yes, Sir," replied one of the guards. They continued walking until they reached the stadium's concourse. As they walked past the vendors selling hot dogs and beers, many of the fans waiting in lines turned to watch their President walk pas...

"HE'S GOT A GUN!"

The yell had been entirely unexpected and caused both the security guards and nearby fans to erupt into panicked pandemonium. It took some time before the situation had calmed down a bit. The guards had scanned the entire area for anyone with a gun. No guns were found in the search. The guards breathed a sigh of relief. One of them turned to tell the President that all was ok...

"OI! WHERE THE HELL IS THE PRESIDENT‽"

* * * * *

Nur al Din Lambert looked completely dejected as he paced back and forth in his technical box. None of his changes, either tactical or in personnel had had any effect on the team and its performance. He had one substitution left to make. Zachariah Butler looked extremely tired in midfield. He turned towards the bench and bellowed to Butler's replacement, "McNeil, get ready to go in."

McNeil jumped from his seat and set off at what was fairly close to a full sprint down the sideline in an effort to warmup. As al Din Lambert watched the young midfielder race down the sideline, movement in the stands caught his attention. Hordes of security personnel were moving everywhere through the stands. al Din Lambert turned toward his assistant, "Hey, Luca, what's going on up in the stands?"

Luca Cormio shrugged his shoulders, "Apparently the President has gone missing."

"Missing‽"

al Din Lambert spun to his right, he knew that voice very well. He was completely shocked, and let out the loudest gasp ever recorded in southern Rushmore. In the stands, thousands of gasps filled the air, almost inaudible compared to al Din Lambert's.

Standing between al Din Lambert and the fourth official was the President of the Republic of Darmen, Tor Tong Lee, wearing the uniform of the Darmeni National Football Team. “Butler!” yelled Lee, “You’re coming off!”

“Have you lost your mind‽” screamed al Din Lambert, more out of shock than anger. “You’re what, 60 years old?”

“52,” replied Lee, smiling towards his former teammate. Lee turned towards the fourth official, smiling at him as well. The official was in complete shock, and simply watched in awe as Lee patted Butler on the back and jaunted onto the field, taking up his position between Grayson Benbow and Odran Gordon.

For what seemed like an entire minute, the referee, the players, the coaches and fans just simply stared at Lee as he stood in midfield. The atmosphere was almost unbearable. Finally, Lee ran over to Alberich Goldschmidt, took the ball from the player, and executed the throw-in to restart play.

The ball bounced off Goldschmidt’s back - Lee had pushed him onto the field - and fell at Lee’s feet. Lee began dribbling the ball towards the Sargossan net, gathering pace as he went along. He passed one opponent, then another, then a third...

Finally, the 30 year old Álvaro Duarte brought down the ageing Darmeni with a solid sliding tackle. The ball shot out from underneath the entanglement of Duarte and Lee, crossing the end line for a Sargossan goal kick. Duarte got up rather quickly, but Lee remained laid out on the pitch for a bit longer. Looking up, Duarte hovered over him, blocking out the last remaining sunlight.

“You never were that good,” said the Sargossan in a heavy accent.

Lee didn’t pay any mind to the Sargossan’s jab. It had been years since he’d been tackled like that. It gave him a feeling he couldn’t even describe.

Compared to the Presidential Mansion in Scott City, the 54,000 seat Brham Stadium, with its sights and sounds felt much more like home. Compared to the Executive Office or the Cabinet Room, the natural grass pitch of Brham Stadium felt much more like home.

No, not like home.

This was home. Lee was back where he belonged.

---

Lee unable to provide Salvation to All Greens
Despite best efforts, Darmen unable to secure badly needed three points

Lee directs the team prior to a freekick.

BRHAM - Despite a heroic attempt by President of the Republic, and All Greens legend, Tor Tong Lee to direct a second half comeback in Darmen's all important World Cup Quaifying match, Sargossa emerged victorious by a single goal.

Lee, who entered the match in the 56th minute in a stunning substitution that left everyone in shock, was unfortunately more successful at evading his own body guards than he was at evading Sargossan defenders. Immediately upon entering the match, Lee fell victim to a heavy tackle from Corsairs' defender Álvaro Duarte. For several minutes afterwards, the match was delayed following a pitch invasion by medical and security staff. As the medical and security staff did their best to persuade the President to leave the pitch in order to avoid serious injury, Lee didn't budge, remaining on the field. The medics and body guards finally left the field following stern direction from the President that the match needed to continue, and that Lee wasn't about to let Darmen continue the rest of the match a man down.

Lee's presence on the field was enough to greatly improve the performance of the Darmeni team. Second half possession was far more even than that of the first half, and Darmen spent much of the second half applying pressure on the Sargossan defenders. Corsairs' goalkeeper Sergio Vega was finally called into action, deflecting several shots from Felix Lucanus and Daniel Norton, who finally had some decent passes to bypass the Sargossan back line, most of the supply coming from Lee himself.

The presence of Darmen's most capped and all-time leading goal scorer was not enough however to change the scoreline, or indeed give Darmen the much needed victory and the accompanying three points. Unless Darmen can win both of its remaining games, a tall order considering that one of those matches is against Starblaydia, Darmen has likely lost out on its greatest chance to qualify for their fifth World Cup.

Sargossan President, Gregorio Emparán, is reported to have reacted to Lee's participation in the World Cup Qualifier...

[Natanians and Nosts]

In an exhibition of not-so-good football and that rule "who doesn't score,suffers",Natanians and Nosts was defeated by Suize who had conquered no poits prior to the afore-mentioned match.The team managed to have over 70% of ball possession,but suffered a goal at the 43rd minute of the second period.The team that had been doing well until the middle of the qualifiers,but the break did not do well to the player's morale.Compared to the World Cup Qualifiers of the 77th World Cup where we had a resonable first round,but the second round was surprising,since we tied games we should have won,drew matches that should have been lost,lost matches that we surely would lost and even some we could've drawn.
It's too easy to blame on the manager,the players or even the psychologist,but we know that it's hard to play at such a high level.The coach has been training the team for quite a long time and we see that the team has made progress,but to what extent?And untill have we progressed comparing to the others?They might've progressed more then wee etaoin shrldu LOREM IPSVM DOLOR SIT AMET CONSECTECTVR ADIPISCI VELIT SED EXERCITATIONEM VLLAM progressed more than us and we just couldn't accompany them.A key to this is the renovation of the team,maybe we shouldn't just call x number of players and wait untill they retire or until they see they can't play anymore and know there are players in better conditions.
The coach is an experienced man and for the good of the team he should be kept,because it might not werke to swap the man who controls who our NT players are and how they play,and it surely does not werk just to wait untill he makes a good job and call an international-level man to assume his rôle,instead of leaving him to progress his werk.Thre are still two matches left for us to play,one that sould bea easy,theorically,and the other that will give us much work,but maybe we can draw them again,if God permits!There's no chance of qualifying,but we need to keep paying as if we were fighting,in part because it may place us better.Natanians and Nosts will face Sameba next and we all should watch that game,to support the players who represent our country.

[Gregoryisgodistan]

Lord Almighty Gregory's Speech to the People

At precisely 6 AM on the Fifth Day of Hate Week, everyone in Gregoryisgodistan is woken up by a loud voice coming from their telescreens.

"ATTENTION! ATTENTION! MAY I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION PLEASE! ATTENTION PLEASE FOR A SPEECH FROM LORD ALMIGHTY GREGORY ABOUT THE FIFTH DAY OF HATE WEEK!"

Lord Almighty Gregory then appears on the screen, and 75 million people all across Gregoryisgodistan bow to him before he begins his speech.

"Good morning, ladies, gentlemen, and slaves. As you know, a couple days ago, our beloved Foot Slaves qualified for World Cup 78 in Bonesea and Cosumar. This is a Glorious and Holy Day, for our Foot Slaves have a great chance to finally get over the infamous four-point hump. Yes, the four point hump that has consistently plagued us at World Cups in the past, where we have recorded a win, a loss, and a draw and been eliminated, shall be no more. We shall win this World Cup, and we shall beat San Jose Guayabal in the final! Or whenever we play them!

"Yes, it is still Hate Week, and we will likely have to face our Most Hated Neighbors on the way to becoming champions. If that happens, give them hell! Throw stuff at their fans! Throw stuff at their players! Kill their fans! Kill their players! Blow up their team hotel! Blow up their team bus! Throw bombs into the Guaya section! Invade the Guaya section armed with guns and knives and start killing left and right! Kill them all! Watch them fall! They will die!

"And then, when the time is right, and tensions are at an all-time high, we will invade the Guaya nation and show them the Awesome Power of the Lord. We will invade at night, take them buy surprise, sleeping tight, they never see our eyes. We'll kill them all, and then we'll kill their Queen. We have no fears, we'll never lose our steam. In fact, I wrote a song about it. Listen to it."

(OOC: Tune)

On the Border Line
Sending out the tanks
We'll invade SJG
And show the world our ranks
90,000 tanks
A show of awesome force
We'll kill each man
Each woman and each horse

Our brave captains now lead on
Our brave soldiers have believed this all along
The Guayas are all lying thieves
We will invade and kill the stupid Guaya Beans

We invade at night
Take them surprise
Sleeping tight
They'll never see our eyes
They'll be all gone
After all the bloody fights
And the flames engulf them
As they're running for their lives

With the Guayas dead
The residents we'll kill
Killing them
For it is what the Lord has will
To the Palace then
Our soldiers all will go
We'll kill the dumb Queen
And all her palace guards

Our brave captains now lead on
Our brave soldiers have believed this all along
The Guayas are all lying thieves
We will invade and kill the stupid Guaya Beans

Yo ho ho ho yo ho ho ho
Yo ho ho ho ho ho ho ho


Our brave captains now lead on
Our brave soldiers have believed this all along
The Guayas are all lying thieves
We will invade and kill the stupid Guaya Beans

Yo ho ho ho yo ho ho ho
Yo ho ho ho ho ho ho ho

Yo ho ho ho yo ho ho ho
Yo ho ho ho ho ho ho ho

"Nothing like a violent ditty to celebrate the Fifth Day of Hate Week. Now take to the streets today and sing it all day along with your violent chants against San Jose Guayabal and Queen Margaret, and all the stupid Guaya Beans. The Guaya Beans are wicked, the Guaya Beans eat babies, the Guaya Beans rape goats and donkeys and ferrets and llamas, three of which are amazing animals, and the donkeys still don't deserve to get raped even if they are stupid and lame, not to mention sex with animals is a crime against me, Lord Almighty Gregory. What else do the Guaya Beans do? Well, they murder each other. 99 percent of Guaya Beans will eventually be murdered, in that lawless nation. 120 percent will be raped. And if you think those numbers make no sense, meet the Brownie Cutter of Death. Also, 15 out of every 10 Guaya Beans have had sex with animals in the past 48 hours. And again, if you think those numbers make no sense, meet the BCoD! You shall perish, Guaya Beans! And traitors too! But I hope we have no traitors among us! But we're watching you through the telescreens, we're watching your every move. We'll know if you're a traitor, and we'll destroy you!

"Now, Guaya Beans, consider yourselves warned. It's almost invasion time, and you will be destroyed! We shall destroy you, burn every city and village to the ground, kill all you clowns, kill all you heathens, kill all you murderers and fools! Now, say it with me! "DEATH TO GUAYA BEANS! *CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP* DEATH TO GUAYA BEANS *CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP*"

"Let's scream it loud, and scream it proud, let's show the world our spirit!"

And all across Gregoryisgodistan, the 75 million people start an early morning chant of "DEATH TO GUAYA BEANS *CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP*" which goes on for almost 45 minutes, before the people scarf down breakfast of prune juice and gruel, of which rations have been tripled in honor of hate week, and take to the streets to show their hatred for the Land of the Devil, San Jose Guayabal, all day long and well into the night. The day was just dawning on the Fifth Day of Hate Week, and already it was going well. Violent, but well. Would it mean war, though?

[Nephara]

Discussion of mental health and attempted suicide below.

Nephara 2-1 Makongo
(4-3-3) 20 - Tsattalios; 2 - Rafford (18 - Brymora 70'), 5 - Konoval, 6 - Scharner (vc), 19 - Jeurissen; 8 - Tarashaj, 4 - Rainsford (c, Chilmark 65'), 14 - Gosforth (16 - Irwin 76'); 13 - Bereveskos, 17 - Stavanger, 21 - Amokachi
Goals: Tarashaj 18', Stavanger 48'

THE HERALD
TOXIC CORMORANTRY - WHY MICHAEL BRANDON'S BRAGGADOCIO SHOULD WORRY US
Karin Rietveld

Nepharim football - and society as a whole - rightfully prides itself on tolerance and openness. Within Nephara's borders, football's three curses of racism, sexism and homophobia are all but unknown, as players of every race, sex and sexuality ply their trade freely.

Take, for instance, Alex Beckett, the first nonbinary player to reach the Premiership. In playing terms, they were an unremarkable rightback who, aside from a handful of Nephara youth caps and a one-club career with Coret Hawks, will barely be remembered by most neutrals. The lack of interest in their career is illustrative - they simply went on with it like any other.

Nephara has also been amply represented, it has to be said, with footballers and staff suffering from mental illness. On this front, unfortunately, press and public have been far less understanding.

It began, at least publically, with Catheline Stockinger suffering a public anxiety attack strong enough to hospitalise her overnight. She was discharged, and somehow played in a final the very next day. This lead to her being commended and adored, and the fact that she was seemingly able to dust herself down and carry on made her something of a cult hero.

Nobody ever seemed to care about how Stockinger - a closed and erratic player off the pitch with a troubled past - felt about it.

After Nephara crashed out of World Cup 72 at the group stage, the pressure had gotten to determined, intellectual Theresa Riether to the extent where she fled the national team's handlers and went into hiding, and suddenly all former players were called up as experts. Riether was painted as someone who was simply not equipped to deal with failure, whose lust for victory meant everything to her.

She was found under a pseudonym after fifteen days and dragged back to Nephara for therapy. Since then, she had the best spell of her career, and of course took Nephara to the World Cup with a far more relaxed, laissez-faire style than before. But it is telling that she stepped down after that victory, and then took up a low-pressure role at Vermillion rather than a side that would challenge at the sharp end of the Premiership.

Why did Riether feel a failure required her to hide? And why did the conversation end when she began to win silverware?

Amethyst Fegelein was a similarly laissez-faire hand at the wheel, but after a promising start it clearly and catastrophically unravelled for her. She was fired after by far the shortest reign in Nepharim history after showing up with by far its strongest resume. She had big, bold ideas, and when they didn't work, seemed to lose her side's confidence, culminating in Rainsford and the mercurial Amokachi fighting one another in a 4-1 defeat to the irrelevant Tveidalen. Her position was, regrettably, untenable.

But after her firing, Fegelein disappeared from public view - perhaps unsurprisingly, given the hostility with which she was now viewed by the press and much of the public.

Yesterday, she was pictured leaving a Crisisbless suicide watch by the Eastern Star, which, in its infinite tabloid wisdom, splashed the photographs across its front page.

Fegelein unsurprisingly could not be reached for comment, and all the signs seem to show that she is, very understandably, cutting ties for the time being with a press that has badly let her down. And yet again Nephara has to ask itself - is the intense, pressure-cooker environment we force upon our national team not just self-defeating but actively destructive towards the heroes that represent us on the global stage?

Many plaudits have gone out to new manager Michael Brandon, who has so far taken an extremely authoritarian approach, hoping to strongarm his players into improved performances. So far, this has partially worked. But for someone who must have had a front-row seat for Fegelein's collapse, and must take at least some of the blame, should Brandon really be so cavalier about claiming his players make him 'sick to the core'?

Nepharim are passionate about winning in all walks of life, and it's that attitude which, in some way, makes us who we are. But it's tempting to wonder why the nation's most mercurial talents such as Gosforth and Amokachi, and even Jade Irwin (somehow rejected by Crisisbless United), feel like they must leave the country to spread their wings.

Perhaps, every once in a while, failure just happens. Perhaps we might not even have to demonise the people who let us down. But should Michael Brandon crash and fail in the role and be driven out of the public eye, he can only blame himself for helping to perpetuate the cultural obsession with victory at any human price.

NEPHARIM NATIONAL TEAM SELECTION - FORTNIGHT 9
Goalkeepers: 1 - Gideon Fletcher (AFC Treason), 12 - Justinian Hargrave (Starling), 20 - Apostolos Tsattalios (Phalanx AF, CEN)
Defenders: 2 - Leona Rafford (Crisisbless), 3 - Sieglinde Lohengrin (Crisisbless), 5 - Dieter Konoval (KT Moreazerua, AUD), 6 - Malachite Scharner (Jungle Strike, VIL), 18 - Danijel Brymora (Brinemouth), 19 - Isidra Jeurissen (Coret Hawks), 22 - Diedrich Frostmarris (Molsbik Arkjet, SEM)
Midfielders: 4 - Tanith Rainsford (Mâ Âlâmëómë, FFD, c), 8 - Vedran Tarashaj (AFC Treason), 14 - Konrad Gosforth (Mâ Âlâmëómë, FFD), 15 - Ursula Rowan (Cassandra City, COS), 16 - Servet Misidjan (AFC Treason), 23 - Helmut Chilmark (Duke of the North, PAS)
Forwards: 7 - Adnan Szalai (Ulsa, EUR), 9 - Estrella Hawke (Starling), 10 - Avila Wardenier (Sabrefell Athletic), 11 - Rowena Strongbow (Cranequin Wanderers), 13 - Andrea Bereveskos (Sabrefell Athletic), 17 - Dragan Stavanger (Tannenberg FC, VLD), 21 - Penumbra Amokachi (Eastweald, COS)

SCHEDULE
Bye
Nephara 1-1 Darmen @ Phoenix Rise (Corvistone)
St. Saratoga 0-4 Nephara
Nephara 2-3 Tveidalen @ The Iron Hill (Vermillion)
Mercedini 0-0 Nephara
Nephara 4-0 Sargossa @ The Gauntlet (Treason)
Makongo 0-1 Nephara
Nephara 1-1 Starblaydia @ Farham Arena (Sabrefell)
Yuezhou 0-1 Nephara
Friendly: Cosumar 1-3 Nephara
Darmen 1-1 Nephara
Nephara 4-1 St. Saratoga @ Godswatch (Crisisbless)
Tveidalen Why-God Nephara
Nephara 5-4 Mercedini @ Farham Arena (Sabrefell)
Sargossa 0-0 Nephara
Nephara 2-1 Makongo @ Portsgate (Brinemouth)
Starblaydia vs. Nephara
Nephara vs. Yuezhou @ Phoenix Rise (Corvistone)

[Brenecia]

Brenecia 0-0 Port Christopher
(4-2-3-1) 1 - Woodgate; 18 - Carrack (2 - Szukala 81'), 5 - Scrivener, 6 - Szubanski, 3 - Lovelock; 4 - Gryphon (c), 16 - Drover (8 - Skorupska 70'); 7 - Trevelyan, 11 - Balliol, 13 - Keohane (10 - Carroll 76'); 17 - Bannion

EEC 1-4 Brenecia
(4-2-3-1) 20 - Calhoun; 18 - Carrack (2 - Szukala 68'), 22 - Bradden, 6 - Szubanski, 19 - Quill; 4 - Gryphon (c, Alweather 50'), 21 - Hartsdown; 13 - Keohane, 10 - Carroll, 15 - Macbeth; 17 - Bannion (14 - Lynch 77')
Goals: Bannion 16', Carroll 48', Keohane 74', Lynch 90+1'

THE ROZELLE OBSERVER
Undefeated Brenecia qualifies for World Cup at a canter
Laura Mulholland

The Patriots are officially through to the World Cup once again after missing last cycle's edition. This campaign has been a remarkably stress-free one for the Patriots, as Catherine Bardsley's defensive, counterpunching tactics have lead to a minimum of dramas, while being able to test out a variety of fringe players' suitability for the national side.

Qualification was sealed in some style as Bardsley allowed her players to turn on the style, taking the time to try out a number of experiments. Alweather replaced Gryphon after fifty minutes with Brenecia 2-0 up, the versatile Hartsdown got another chance to impress in the core of midfield, Roisin Carroll got a surprising berth as a floating central playmaker, the versatile Keohane played out on the right and those two, Bannion and Lynch all got on the scoresheet. The only concern was that the goal came at Rostyn Calhoun's near post - but the young Cenial stopper has shown enough over the campaign to probably get into a final 23-man squad.

All in all, while Brenecia hasn't exactly blown any sides away, the EEC just now aside, it has been a refreshingly comfortable campaign that has, through the emergence of players like Calhoun, Bannion, Adelina Macbeth, Gethin Quill and Meghan Hartsdown, unearthed a new generation of class Brenecian footballers that some worried would never actually arrive.

More fresh faces are set to show up for the dead rubber against Poggers and friendly against Iskandervale, with the highly promising 19-year old Brae Crowther set for a recall, young A-League talents Pagan Redweald and Angharad Northstead set for likely debuts as well as versatile left-sided Siri Cattalock, formerly of West Brinemouth and now of Pasargan outfit Sardin United, completing her paperwork to switch allegiances. While none are likely to make it to the World Cup, it underlines and reinforces what now seems like a bright future indeed for the Patriots. As for the present, it's stronger than any neutral, and most Brenecians themselves, believed.

BRENECIAN NATIONAL TEAM SELECTION - FORTNIGHT 9
Goalkeepers: 1 - Roisin Buchanan (Lunas FC, PAS), 12 - Geneva Urquhart (Olympia FC, EFL), 20 - Rostyn Calhoun (Cenial United, CEN)
Defenders: 2 - Czeslawa Szukala (Phalanx AF, CEN), 3 - Siri Cattalock (Sardin United, PAS), 5 - Cheney Heneghan (Gallant Cross), 6 - Eoin Cascarine (Peynol-Lunas, PAS), 18 - Peter Uffington (Eastal Lunar, VIL), 19 - Gethin Quill (Revolutionaries, EUR), 22 - Garwyn Varney (Westpike United)
Midfielders: 4 - Catherine Gryphon (Starling, NPH, c), 7 - Ronan Bowditch (Real Azuris, COS), 8 - Aleksandra Skorupska (Trothwands Evolution, OSR), 10 - Adelina Macbeth (Club Stein-Los, PAS), 11 - Tiferet Ashbrown (AFC Swanbridge), 13 - Brae Crowther (Kingsgrove), 15 - Pagan Redweald (Northern Stallions), 16 - Elsie Drover (OAS Royal FC, COS), 21 - Meghan Hartsdown (Kings Park, SCT), 23 - Catsidhe Alweather (Marque)
Forwards: 9 - Angharad Northstead (Lotus Park), 14 - Fionn Lynch (SC Rinaldi, VAL), 17 - Aelfwynn Bannion (North Hall)

SCHEDULE
Brenecia 2-1 Yesopalitha
Goluta 0-1 Brenecia
Brenecia 2-0 Savojarna
Qasden 1-3 Brenecia
Brenecia 1-1 Tobiasia
Port Christopher 0-0 Brenecia
Brenecia 0-0 EEC
Poggers 0-1 Brenecia
Friendly: Brenecia 2-0 the Askari Union
Yesopalitha 0-1 Brenecia
Brenecia 1-0 Goluta
Savojarna 0-0 Brenecia
Brenecia 3-0 Qasden
Tobiasia 1-2 Brenecia
Brenecia 0-0 Port Christopher
EEC 1-4 Brenecia
Brenecia vs. Poggers
Friendly: Brenecia vs. Iskandervale

[Schottia]

The North Handon Way

Part Seven.

Chasing wild geese.

Gary sat in the passenger seat with his leatherette travel bag pulled up to his chin, and a face that displayed to all the world just how little he was enjoying himself. To say that Gary had slept badly would be putting it mildly. The shed had been far colder than his own little hut, and the flimsy walls and unheated interior meant that there was little relief from the cold starry evening. Any one else would have knocked on the Cleggmans' door and pleaded for a night on the couch - but not Gary. His pride, as always, ensured that he stuck it out to the bitter end, shivering uncontrollably.

What was it Desdemona had said about this being the right thing to do? No, stop it Gary, you really need to stop blaming other people for your own mistakes! But seriously, if everything happened for a reason, what was the point in this? To punish him? To show him that he should never set foot outside his valley again? This probably was what Mr Hanson would have wanted, divine justice. Derek Hanson would be sitting in that big pub in the sky - drinking the best pint of lager ever, brewed by angels - while watching Gary's perpetual suffering.

It wouldn't have taken a genius to guess that Gary's misery hadn't end with a bad night's sleep. When he had finally decided it was morning, and headed out into garden, that was were his troubles really started. After realising that he only had an hour before he needed to be at the stadium, it dawned on him that he didn't have a clue were he was. Willowbrae wasn't the kind of place you went to unless you had someone to visit, and since Gary rarely had any one to visit, he had of course, never been. After several failed forays to the end of the road in search of a bus stop he was forced to admit defeat and go knock on the Cleggmans' door.

'What do you mean you don't know your way out of the housing estate?' Gary eventually snapped, after the fourth time of driving past the red car. After Jim Cleggman's daughter had informed him that her mother and father had already left for work, she had offered to drive him herself. Confronted with a choice between the devil and the deep blue seas, Gary had had little choice but to accept.

'GAAH!' She too was getting flustered. 'I only passed my test last week, and I never really pay attention when I'm not driving.' She was staring straightforward, arms locked as rigidly as she held on to the steering wheel for dear life. 'The way you drive out of the estate isn't the same as the way you walk.'

Gary glanced at the clock on the dashboard, he only had forty minutes left until the one and only training session started. 'Look, Miss Cleggman, please just pull over so we can take stock.' He was trying to stay as calm as possible, as he had the feeling that any sudden movements would have heightened the already alarming high chance that they might end up in a hedge. By the look of the car, which was immaculate and still smelled strongly of new-car, this might have been the first time his chauffeur had even driven it.

'It-it-it's okay Mr Corise.' She was biting hard on her bottom lip, eyebrows pointing at the bridge of her nose. 'I can do this. I think if we take the next left up here, rather than a right, then we will be back on the main road at least.' Gary would have guessed her age at about eighteen, judging by her general dress sense and demeanour. She was nothing like her ballsy father, and in actual fact, Gary hadn't heard her utter a single word during dinner. He guessed that while Jim and his wife came from working-class North Handon stock, the kids had had an altogether more civilised upbringing.

Gary decided not to mention the fact that he was now pressed for time. Turning up late to training was bad enough at the best of times, but when it was for a charity match, it looked even worse. 'Miss Cleggman: If I may..?'

'Uh-huh?'

'If I may be so bold. Neither of us know where we are going.' Gary felt like he was talking a jumper down from the edge of a tall building. 'Perhaps it would be more prudent to stop, and evaluate our situation? I can pop into one of the houses and ask them for directions, or maybe a map. Miss Cleggman..?'

'I'm so sorry Mr Corsie, I fell as if I've let you down terribly.' It struck Gary that they were currently driving so slowly in first gear, that he could have just opened the door and got out. 'Worse still, I've let myself down.'

'Miss Cleggman, you haven't let...'

'And can you please stop calling me Miss Cleggman.' She was getting panicky now, and as a result, had sped up to a racy 8 kmph. 'You're making me feel like I'm at a job interview.'

'I'm sorry, I'm sorry.' Gary had to fight the temptation to pull the hand break on. 'I couldn't remember your name, and I thought it would be rude to ask you...'

'IT'S JANE.'

'Okay Jane,' Gary's face was almost contorted in to a grimace now, braced for any potential impact. 'Please just pull over here, we can ask for directions, and...'

There was a sudden lurch as the teenager performed an emergency stop. 'Sorry...'

'It's okay.' Gary reassured her, while he retrieved the bag containing all of his worldly goods from the floor in front of him. 'I guess breaking can take a bit of practice.'

---

Almost twenty-five minutes late, Jane Cleggman delivered a slightly-worn-down Gary Corise, arrived at Dyerton stadium. A kindly old man on a mobility scooter had offered to lead them to the main road, and although Jane had struggled to keep up, they had eventually succeeded.

As Gary stood beneath the high walls of his former place of work, he was gripped by such a dizzying wave of nostalgia, that he was forced to grip the car door tightly to avoid falling over. This, combined with the adrenalin pumping through his body following the white knuckle ride, meant that he was in no real condition to play football.

'Okay thank you Jane.' Gary said turning to her at last. He must have looked a sight in his handmade felt jumper and knitted woollen trousers. 'You've, eh, don't me a great service.'

'I can wait and give you a lift back if you like?' She asked hopefully.

'Oh no, that's quite alright.' Gary didn't think his heart could take any more excitement for one day. 'I'll get a lift from one of the players, or worst case I'll walk to the main road and flag down a taxi.'

'It's really no bother though, I don't mind waiting here.' She reassured him, but seemed rather embarrassed. 'Actually... I'm not really sure of the way back so, I was hoping you might.' She glanced out towards the sea, as her face reddened following her admission.

Gary nodded his head in defeat. 'Okay, I'll meet you back here in a couple of hours.' He reached into his bag, retrieving a dog-eared book with a picture of a snow covered mountain on the front. The book was titled The Power of Breathing. Here. Page thirty I think. How to deal with stressful situations.'

Jane thanked him, and wished the player luck, which he said he would certainly need. As Gary took his leave and walked towards the players' entrance, he felt as if he were stood at the edge of a cliff. In front of him undoubtedly lay abject humiliation, ridicule, and a thoroughly awkward hour of his life. Before he pushed open the door, he looked up to the heavens.

'HAPPY!' He shouted, arms raised above his head. 'I bet you're have great laugh up there, aren't you?' It wouldn't have surprised him if Mr Hanson had a quite word with someone behind an admin desk in Heaven; got them to blow up his bags, put him in an unheated shed, and sent him on this morning's wild goose chase. Well... It seemed like there was nothing left to do but go inside and take the rest of his beating like a man.

---

OOC: I'm not sure how many people are reading along with this story, but if anyone would like to contribute a player to the All-Stars team for the benefit match, the please send me a TG. A couple of individuals I could name drop would maybe be nice, and I'd be very grateful. If it helps twist your player's arm: they would be honouring a great man, and helping raise some money for a good cause and club funds in the process.

[Electrum]

OOC: Continued from here. The plan is for a time-skip after this roleplay to after the election, just to save you all the boring political roleplays.

Centralis Herald - News Section - Janine Connell

Upcoming election sees Nationalists take the lead

It all started with a bang - Prime Minister Suarez's declaration that she was going to hold an election was both highly surprising and highly intense. In just this previous week, the fallout from her declaring an election has been unimaginable, with riots and general anarchy in Electrum's northern towns like Albo and Dry River. This was all sparked by the Prime Minister releasing redacted documents to prove the Euran Unity Party up North had been secretly working with one of Euran's richest and most conservative third parties, the Capital Party, to destabilise the border situation to their advantage. The effect on the polling had been immediate: the EUP were immediately declared cordon sanitaire as everyone tried to remove their association from the treacherous party. They are now a non-entity in the polls, and it will be impossible for them to recover.

Of course, there is even more political fallout than before. Suarez may have miscalculated yet again: her speech announcing the election was a call to arms for the Nationalists, and there was nothing more that illustrated the incompetence of her government than being tricked by a pair of troublemaker parties from both sides of the border. In particular, her jabs at the 'silent majority' have seemed to have swayed more people in Electrum's North to the Nationalists. Those in the North feel like they have been marginalised themselves, finding themselves the victims of globalisation as Electrum signs more and more treaties with overseas nations, including the possible formation of a pan-Rushmori community. They are the victims of structural unemployment, and the government isn't doing them many favours with a large majority of the Euran refugees being low-skilled workers as well.

In the recent CeannPoll, the Nationalists have gone out to a stomping lead, being in pole position for the Prime Minister's spot. Nationalist leader Jim Connors, who came back after recovering in hospital due to being shot by what is suspected to be a Euran annexationist, leads with 34% of the vote, the Conservatives led by current DPM Wood is on 29% and Suarez is in dead last of the viable Prime Minister candidates with 25%. Of course, due to Electrum's bizarre political system, this means the Conservatives and the Labour party will still be in the cabinet (as cabinet spots are allocated proportionally to the amount of seats won), but the leader that will set the direction of the country, and the most important minister will go to the party who has the most votes. With the current vote split between the two establishment parties, it seems extremely likely we will see Jim Connors be elected as the Prime Minister in the election.

There are still a few more debates and a few more weeks of campaigning to go, but it seems like this really is the death knells of the Suarez government. They have presided over a border destabilisation attempt by a foreign power and then failed to provide adequate care to those refugees. With increasing polarisation and anti-Euran sentiment, this can only mean bad things for the centrist parties, and they will need to evaluate what their next step is after the election.