World Cup 79 • CREDRAWK • RP Thread

[Electrum]

Centralis Herald - News Section - Janine Connell

It's official: These are the areas that will secede from Electrum

In just a lightning-fast three months time, the nation of Electrum will be set to lose some 5% of its northern territory to Eura. This comes after the results of the northern referendum which gave citizens in each local government area the choice of remaining in Electrum or if they wanted to rejoin Eura.

The border territory, long held by Electrum, but contested by Eura after a mess of competing land claims centuries ago led Electrum to hire mercenaries to enforce the present-day border, has been subject to a lot of controversy in recent years. It all kicked off when just a few years ago, the Nationalists, forced through parliament under the Suarez Labour government, a bill to build an extreme border wall, because of the number of Eurans trickling past the border because of the Eura-Sameba wars. As a result of their leader, Jim Connors, being shot during one of his stump speeches about the wall, national support actually swung towards building a wall, outraged at the fact that the Eurans were interfering in domestic Electrumite affairs. After the Nationalists took power, things took a turn for the worse after it was revealed that Connors' shooting was actually a false flag operation instrumented by Connors himself to gain power for himself. When that was revealed, as well as when the Electrumites discovered just how incompetent the Nationalists were, it took a snap election for Prime Minister Wood, a Conservative, to regain power (he was Prime Minister before Suarez), with the promise he would work together with the Eurans to ensure self-determination for the region. For Wood, it was a no-brainer: He could help the Eurans with one of their massive social problems, overpopulation, and he could get rid of some economically unviable areas for free (given that the Electrumites already plundered the land of its oils and precious metals decades ago).

In more detail, only a few towns in Electrum's arid north will secede from Electrum and rejoin Eura. North of the Deltan region (Agri), the twin towns of Barker and seaside Bordertown will both go to Eura, going west, the town of Sam Kree has also moved over to Eura. Sam Kree was a town named after one of those mercenaries who protected the Electrumite land claims up north, so it will be interesting to see if the Eurans decide to change the name of that town. Even further to the west, and north of Hamilton, the town of Albo and Newman, the strongholds of the former Nationalist party and where most anti-Euran violence occurred, there was a slim majority of around 53-57% voting for secession. South of the area, the towns of Lizardville and Dry River, have remained in Electrum, with the votes in their area floating between 39-42% voting for secession. Most of the areas that seceded were actually home to a majority Euran population even before the refugee crisis happened, with most of the new Euran refugees choosing to stay near Electrum's northern cities like Hamilton, Auras and Agri, in search for well-paying but laborious jobs in the services and mining sectors. The campaign to remain in Electrum had little effect in the seceding areas after years of underinvestment, and probably wasn't helped by the fact when PM Nick Wood called those areas worthless. Nonetheless, Electrumites who found themselves stuck on the wrong side of the border had two options: apply for a Euran citizenship or be compensated luxuriously by the Electrumites. Unsurprisingly, most of the Electrumites in those areas took the latter option, leaving behind many service stations and governmental services that will need to be filled by the Eurans.

Already, there are concerns with the Eurans ability to administer the new regions with the Euran government already outstretched in having to deal with the Euran accession to the CRC and reconstruction efforts on the Sameba-Euran interface. Nonetheless, whether they like it or not, the Electrumites have implemented a strict three-month deadline for the handover, so in three month's time the Eurans had ought to be prepared to administer the new territories.

---

The Turnip: Three reasons why Underground Mod-God Cultists are better than Intergalactic Zombie Space Pirates
by Ezekiel Starlight III

In The Holy Empire, there is a somewhat misguided obsession on intergalactic zombie space pirates. The Turnip feels that intergalactic zombie space pirates cannot possibly compare to underground mod-god cultists for several reasons that we will enumerate below.

1. The phrase 'intergalactic zombie space pirates' is redundant
Why have the word intergalactic and space describing the same thing? It is an unacceptable tautology, and one that is certainly avoided when we are talking about Underground Mod-God Cultists because none of the adjectives are tautological. This repetitive, redundant superfluous description that requires no more reiteration means that Underground Mod-God Cultists are better than intergalactic zombie space pirates.

2. We don't even know there's such thing as an intergalactic zombie space pirate, and even if there was, it's a farfetched idea
To be honest, the whole idea of intergalactic zombie space pirates seems a little bit farfetched: if there is a zombie virus, I would like to see it for myself but I won't because I know it's fake news. Don't the zombies know that there's a more nutritious foodstuff than brains? Why not get at the organs or burn some human skin over a fire to make it into a yummy crisp? These two options are certainly more nutritious and delicious than eating some gooey brains. Despite the questionable existence of these zombie space pirates, we definitely do know that there are Underground Mod-God cultists out there because there is incontrovertible evidence that their deity exists. Indeed, the sign-off "The existence of this message is not proof of my divinity" is in fact proof of the deity's divinity.

3. We don't need a poll to tell us if something is cool or not
As fine hipsters, as soon as something becomes popular, it is deemed uncool, and we all know hipsters know best. Because a majority of the polling population thought that the Intergalactic Zombie Space Pirates were cool, that just means now they're uncool because the masses know about them and like them. Compare this to our Underground Mod-God cultists, which has only ever been discussed in articles of The Turnip: you will see no other media publication talk about these cultists. Besides, it's inherently unfair to poll whether or not Intergalactic Zombie Space Pirates are cool, given the fact that they are dead (comatose or catatonic, or what have you) and therefore won't have the proper enzymatic processes that generate heat. In other words, it's already given that they are cool, and in fact, they would better be classified as cold. Now being in a cult? That's proper cool.

Anyways I can't think of anymore reasons so this will have to do. Bye!

[Bonesea]

.

[Mriin]

Solara could feel her legs getting heavier. Shit, this guy’s fast for a human. Matterhorn kept a closer tag on her than anyone this cycle--I guess they’re playing up to the occasion--and the chances weren’t coming.

Don grimaced from the sidelines. “We’re barely threatening. We can’t hold out for long if they have all the momentum.”

“I’m shocked something hasn’t given already,” countered Jorm, “half an hour without a goal? With these squads?”

“All the backs are playing above-par, honestly. Vayne’s getting just as choked out as Solara is, but we’re stretched thinner out back--we’ll crack before they do if it just continues like this.”

“Are you thinking about sending out another defender to help? Maybe Kali T for, I don’t know, Lasser?”

“No, that’d be blatantly playing to not lose--we don’t want a draw from this. We’re going to advance, and if we’re going to do that, we need this points, no question. I just have to put my faith in someone finding a seam and breaking things open.”

And that’s when Malia left Kakuza tied up. She leapt forward into the Damukunian half, everything shifting on the fly to make up for the midfielder losing his mark so harshly--not that Matternhorn would give Solara any space, but all of a sudden Lasser found some room to work on the wing. Malia spotted that before Hawkins realized she’d gone just a bit too far and sent it along the line, giving the Harbor winger his first proper chance of the day. But he paused a moment; This is too long, too narrow. Keeper’ll haul it in no-doubt. So he cut inside, managing to get Hawkins to overrun past, and finally forcing Matterhorn to sprint over and at least prevent a close-range one-on-one.

Finally! Solara rose up to meet the snap-chip that cleared Matterhorn by a good six inches, nailing the ball with the curve of her horns--it buried itself in the right-side netting, well out of Tatsuyumi’s reach.

Don stuck a clawed fist into the air as the stadium roared to life. And this is where the plan comes together.

The Mriinians took back to the field with a new fervor. They hadn’t expected such stiff defense from the Damukunians, and breaking through… it was cathartic, to say the least. All of a sudden they were winning balls back quicker, and the play shifted from fairly evenly split to mostly in the Esportivan’s half--but they were hanging on tight, even so, and Tatsuyumi still wasn’t left with too difficult a task. Looks like that’s about it for this half, then? Jorm pondered, watching the Lasser throw his hands in the air after launching one directly into the keeper’s chest.

But Tatsyumi snapped back up and went for a cheeky fast-rebound, pitching the ball up to Bennet--or trying to. Hilda had been giving Bennet some form of shit as she does, and conveniently he was looking at her instead of the apparently paused action. He must’ve been confused when she turned into a big red blur coming right at him, taking a step back--giving her just enough room to smash the ball back in without goring him. Not that she’d have really minded that, but just letting Aldo tap in an insurance goal was probably better.

---

With the second-half kickoff, Joren signaled a very conservative start. Sending it back Hilda well behind the line--sitting on the one-oh lead would be a pretty boring strategy, but points are points, right?

So the Damukunians came forward, if the Mriinians would just invite them in--and Hilda rips off a booming high pass to Aldo, who’d just been slowly backpedalling in the midfield, taking it in and turning on a dime.

And running directly into Koike.

They bounced off each other, both managing to stay upright, but Rivera was free to swoop in behind Koike and sweep up the free ball, breaking towards the open space to her right. After a quick survey of the field, a beautiful cross found Vayne in the box. Zilia could tell this wasn’t going to end well. Damn, and we’d been doing so well keeping her under wraps...

Joren, to the delight of many fans watching, stopped the cute things and lead a much more orthodox drive--but it seemed the backs had refound their resolve from the start of the match, and aggressive play was met with aggressive shutdowns on both sides.

Five minutes, ten minutes, twenty minutes passed, and Don sat down for the first time since the first goal with a sigh and a smile. Joren cocked an eyebrow. “You feeling good about this?”

“We’ve got the better balance of the stalemate, this time. No-one is converting, but we’re getting more chances, and they’re starting to take desperate shots. We’ll hold out.”

Even more than hold out, a string of corners--involving Tatsuyumi making a few heroic tips, and a few probably unnecessary ones--finally came to a head, with Reina finding herself alone on top of a ball that’d violently popped out of the scrum in the box. As the shot sailed into the top-left corner, she was left wondering when the hell did I get good at this?! Her second international goal, to put a World Cup game essentially out of reach? Oh, I hope dad was watching that…

[Pasarga]

Failing to defeat the Corsairs of Sargossa was a bitter pill to take for the squad, as they knew that the two matches left in the group would be matches where getting a result was going to be quite difficult. Against the likes of Brenecia and Vilita, the former having shown their great prowess in defeating the former on the opening match of group play making it an even bigger hurdle, meant that the Wanderers were going to have to play two near perfect matches to hope to come away with a result. On the one hand, you would have a Brenecia side that was flying high on itself for the deed of defeating a recent World Cup champions and the number three team in the world, but this was not a squad full of players that simply had that aura of talent. No, the Brenecia squad was that of hard working players that just seemed to gel together, even if their home league was something of a development league for the rest of the world, with a number of Brenecians even plying their trade in the SuperLiga. There would be no ego that was oversatiated by the grueling win over the group favorites, nothing for the Wanderers to take advantage of in that sort of mindset that some teams get from an unexpected victory.

"Listen, I know we are all feeling the sting of letting two points slip away to Sargossa, it was certainly not the way that anyone on this squad wanted to start the tournament. We all know what is left ahead of us and why not winning is a huge blow to our chances, but we also still control our own destiny and have had a history of pulling out the big results when our backs are pushed up against the wall. We've done it two Qualifiers in row, grabbing wins when it seemed like we were going to crash out of the Qualifiers altogether, getting the side into the knockouts of last edition in Cosumar and Bonesea. To don this kit is to struggle through obstacles and overcome." captain Þorvaldur Oddsson said to the players, as they nearly two thirds of the squad had come into their fitness session with their heads hung low. However a few of them seemed to perk up and nod as the captain continued to speak to the team.

"It took nearly forty years of struggling through the mediocrity that the team was perpetually stuck in to just become a decent footballing power and then we did the most unlikely thing and won a World Cup and was in three straight title matches on top of that. Nothing has ever been given to the Wanderers, we have always had to go out and earn it the hard way, often playing in poor weather conditions on fields that are more hazardous to our health than any of the tackles that we endure during the matches themselves. But we overcome, it is what the Wanderers have been doing for sixty years, it is why there are multiple trophies in the trophy cabinet, why our youth setup is considered among the best in the world, and why teams cast their eyes at our clubs to try and snatch the best of our home grown talent. We are just as talented as any other team in this tournament, even Electrum or Schottia, there is no reason why we can not go out there and get the results that we need to advance. Brenecia is going to be tough but we have all had to overcome the odds before, we can do it again."

There was a round of applause and cheers from the dressing room and Oddsson knew that the players spirits were lifted, if only just a little, but it would have to do. The squad needed to be in good spirits despite the draw against the Corsairs, as much as the sting of dropping points to their longtime regional and political rivals was fresh and deep for the team. The captain knew that even if they won won of the remaining two matches, there was still a chance that they would not advance out of the group stages. They could even go undefeated in this Group of Death and still not advance, but they had to go out and give it all despite the long odds ahead of them. This would not be a Pasargan national team if they did not at least have a solid go at trying to topple these two mammoth teams of the games. If the likes of The Weegies could topple the best team in the world in Polar Islandstates despite having no footballing talent to speak of at the time, then why couldn't they topple the Brenecians and Vilitans with the amount of talent at their hands? The way forward was difficult, but when was it ever not difficult?

[Vilita]

---

You're traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind. A journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination. That's the signpost up ahead - your next stop, the Wormhole!"

The Tiny Island of Drawkland is being overrun by population expansion and its major cities have all begun blending together into one. The white cliffs have been taken over by nesting pods with residents looking to find a little piece of semi-privacy to call their own. There has been controversy recently in the capital city of Drawkial as densely packed residents campaign to have the vast parks and green spaces - including the famous Lake Drawkial park, converted into housing developments for families and refugees who enter the Tiny Island of Drawkland from nearby Electrum out of a prudish aversion to living in a land with bare bottoms flying over homes, offices and federal buildings. A history of long, brutal wars with the Fssovian's of Eura has died down and the Tiny Island has recently buoyed the focus on peace time activities to qualify for their first World Cup. Now, one step beyond that he Tiny Island of Drawkland has teamed up with the Stellar Empire of Ceni to host the World Cup 79 finals.

The Stellar Empire of Ceni is everything that the Tiny Island of Drawkland is not. A huge continental expanse, the Stellar Empire of Ceni has no population density issues, varied climates and a rich history. While the city centers are till dense, they Sonnelian Cenian's have been able to build both up and down to ensure quality of life is maintained for their residents. The Ceni Corps are the pride of the nation and the Ceni City stadium will play host to important matches for their offshoot Kick Corps during the upcoming World Cup competition. Speaking of which, There are perhaps just two things and two things alone that the Stellar Empire of Ceni and the Tiny Island of Drawkland share. Firstly, though they could not be any more different in terms of size, both the Tiny Island of Drawkland and the Stellar Empire of Ceni have no land neighbors. Secondly, both the Tiny Island of Drawkland and the Stellar Empire of Ceni are host locations for the World Cup 79 finals - the last and final World Cup competition of the '70's.

---

Are Intergalactic Zombie Space Pirates Cool?

The question of the day throughout the Tropics and on the Calanian mainland holdings of Tropicorp of course centered around the Intergalactic Zombie Space Pirates brought to the region from the Dreamed Realm by the Holy Empire's Professor Igor von Madscientisto under the coordination of sometimes eccentric visionary Dr. J. Hamonii of the Tropicorp Team.

The issue of course was the effects of the acceleration of Zombie Space Pirate flesh decay in Tropical Climates and, importantly for the Holy Empire, a better understanding of how they would continue to compete in a competition - the World Cup Qualifiers and World Cup Finals - that required them to travel to nations that may have a Tropical Climate to contest their match.

Through extensive studies in tropical climate match conditions, Professor von Madscientisto, Hamonii and their co-author and Serum concotionary West gained valuable data to get them closer to a scenario where Intergalactic Zombie Space Pirates could actually Intergalactify themselves without complete liquefying themselves at the same time.

However, for citizens on the nearby Island of Turoki, the question was - was entertaining potentially infectious Intergalactic Zombie Space Pirates from the Dreamed Realm a step too far - even for Dr. Hamonii?

Residents of the island of Turoki have long been accustomed to stories of what experiments were going on at Tropicorp and had grown somewhat numb to their effects. While ultimately a purpose built city, Tropicoast, emerged on the shores of Tropicorp to aide in the quality of life of the Tropicorp workforce, there were still many pockets of employees who took the weekly or daily shuttles between Mavaloiao and Tropicoast and interminglings between Turokians and the Tropicorps were still a way of life.

Naturally, there were immediate calls for the daily shuttles service to cease running and allow only the weekly service, with those on the shuttle requiring a full medical evaluation on departure and return from Mavaloiao. What would happen if one of the Tropicorps returned to the Isle of Turoki and was infected? Would all of Turoki Island begin to Zombify?

It was a risk some were unwilling to live with. But Professor von Madscientisto and Dr. Hamonii took steps to re-assure the public and the experiments would go on. None of the residents of the Isle of Turoki - outside of the Tropicorps - ever saw an Intergalactic Space Pirate Zombie which made the question of their existence somewhat of a mystical lore particularly amongst school children. Now, with the initial rounds of experiments over and no official word as to whether additional experiments were ongoing or if the Intergalactic Zombie Space Pirates had beamed back to the Realm from which they originated - the question amongst the locals on the Isle of Turoki: Are Intergalactic Zombie Space Pirates Cool? Most polled believed more in the myth than the risk posed by the Zombie Space Pirates, so its more likely that a feature film focusing on the mystical Zombified creatures hits theaters in Sile this summer than it is the citizens will rise up with their pitchforks again.

[Ceni]

Some might think that Drawkland is an Empire of Angels... will it be so angelic if you lose? Cutoff.

[Ethane]

The Viewfinder

Football's Darkest Hour: Pay Scandal Uncovered

A Viewfinder investigation has discovered ridiculous pay disparities between different officials and different workers within the FAE infrastructure, amongst a number of other issues within the Ethanian footballing world.

Over the past 2 years, The Viewfinder has been conducting a secret investigation into the FAE after accusations of unfair, undisclosed pay increases for top officials within the organisation by a secretary to Damien Graines, one of the leading members of the FAE Council. In our investigation, which can be accessed from our website, we have discovered a culture of corruption and cronyism within the FAE organisation which runs right through the whole organisation.

We can reveal that over the past 2 years, £3 billion has been removed from the pensions and wage pots of FAE employees lower down the pyramid to pay for wage increases of high-ranked officials, including the President of the Football Association of Ethane, Jakob Turner, and the current manager of Ethane, Gavin Comi. Both Turner and Comi have benefitted from a £20 million increase in each of their wages. That's a massive increase - they were both paid between £2 and £3 million a year before the increase. This increase in wages is not just limited to these two members of the FAE; the scandal touches almost everyone in the Council and in the higher-echelons of the FAE organisation.

This isn't just a small circle of officials circumventing official protocol to give themselves a small wage increase, but the whole of a top level of an organisation subverting all due checks and processes to benefit themselves with massive pay rises at the expense of their other employees. This is a story of corruption running riot in an organisation we should hold to the highest regard - a story of taxpayers money being wasted away on corrupt, selfish and greedy officials who think they can get away with hiding the truth from the public.

Over the past 2 years, because of that £500 million deficit, lesser employees within the FAE infrastructure have suffered. 2000 employees have been forced out of their jobs. The remaining employees have seen their wages slashed, the most extreme cases by half, and their pension return diminishing. They have suffered at the hands of the top echelons of a corrupt organisation. Those at the top must be held accountable.

The Viewfinder takes the position that there should be a full-scale independent investigation into not just the FAE and its practices and organisational structure, but also into the practices within the government into how organisations which spend public money are kept in check. There has been a failure at all levels of government and the organisation, and the corruption must be discovered and then rooted out. The FAE has become rotten; a full-scale shakeup of the organisation is needed.

(Note: This is only a brief piece on the report for our newspaper. Please go to our website to read the full report on the pay scandal, as well as a number of other articles surrounding the issue.)

[Farfadillis]

Calling the World Cup 79 Farf team experienced would have been an understatement. Almost every single player in the starting eleven was over thirty and had played in at least three World Cups already. This hadn’t given them any advantage against 95X, though. If anything, it might even have been detrimental up to that point. The 95Xers had come out all guns blazing, looking to impress in their long-awaited World Cup debut. With only ten minutes to go, the two teams were tied three-three, and the Farf team hadn’t looked like the better team.

Truth is, things just weren’t clicking for la Vherderoja. Both Wínrôuge and Çíânflöné were having off-days and the defense wasn’t looking particularly solid. Söh and Básá both made pretty big mistakes in the first half that had put the team two goals behind, and it had been only through Lázár Eleonóra’s brilliance that they made it back into the game. Just before half time, the Eura-based winger dribbled past two players and placed the shot well beyond the goalkeeper’s reach. Just after half time, he scored from long range. Lázár’s man of the match performance wouldn’t end there, since he would then assist Jevdjevic-Hadsic after the Karuvan made an uncharacteristic run for goal. 95X had equalized shortly after off a corner.

Xíxì Êns was not a player with a lot of experience, at least not when compared with his teammates. He had been a professional for just over three years. Wínrôuge, for example, had played more World Cup games than he had played international games.

Some players are seemingly born ready for the big stage. They take the pitch with eighteen years of age and it looks like they’ve got eighteen years of experience. Notable examples of such Farf players include names like Risko Kâí, Friekder Dandalleion, Mâás Fôx and, nowadays, Xíxì Êns.

Wínrôuge snapped out of his uncharacteristic but momentary dip in quality and connected a beautiful through pass with his first touch which split the 95X defense apart. Xíxì sent his marker flying with a gentle but unexpected touch of the ball with his right foot. He then looked up and, with the serenity of a thirty-years old Alex Terán, chipped the ball over the incoming goalkeeper. All of that serenity left him the instant the ball went in, obviously.

After the goal came the 95X onslaught. They got three shots on target but Metz was unplayable that day. However, even a literal madman like Tíbürçìó had probably noticed at this point a problem that could prove to be the team's demise: the squad was simply too old. This was probably one of the slowest Farf teams ever, for example, and it showed. Furthermore, as the minutes had gone by, the older players had looked more and more tired. By about the seventieth minute the game had become 95X's to win. If you looked at the individual performances of the players, the age problem became even more evident: Lázár Eleonóra and Xíxì Êns, the two players that had made the difference, were two of the three youngest players in the team. They had gotten the three points anyway, but against the worst team in the World Cup going by KPB ranking, as solid as their regional reputation may be. Would Valanora and Kita-Hinode punish this weakness more severely? The answer was likely a resounding yes.

So Tíbürçìó was, probably, playing around with new ideas in his head. There were many young players eager to get a chance in this team. Wçêíl could replace Meier in the left flank. Nonhagatte could replace Monrazón, who had played particularly poorly. Benching Scheherazade would probably not be a controversial decision, since the country still hadn't completely warmed up to her for sad and obvious reasons, but the idea of benching the captain probably attracted Tíbürçìó the most. No better way to shake things up a bit and kill off complacency, after all.

[Super-Llamaland]

Out of all the players Tigers fans wanted taking the penalty that could win their team a crucial three points, Jayson Herrera probably was not on the top of the list. Him being on the list at all was an achievement few thought possible before qualifiers, but somehow - despite a string of poor performances, he'd been brought along as the sixth midfielder. With the Tigers struggling to find any inspiration against a diligent and resolute Qasden side, the man nobody had thought could sniff the final twenty-three was coming on for Elias Møller.

Five minutes later, a frustrated Miro Vorobyov, fueled by the spark of brilliance that had deserted him for the previous seventy-five, slipped past two defenders, cut inside, and found himself briefly open before Macron Abbott sent him sprawling for a yellow card and a penalty. Of course, Velasquez had come off, as had Møller and Penbrooke, and neither Vesely nor Vorobyov could take them...which left Curtis Steeling in a very difficult place. And, well, Jayson Herrera took penalties for Beian City, so why not throw him on?

So it'd been Herrera to step up and potentially seal his legacy as a cult hero with one kick of the ball. It'd been a moment he'd been waiting for ever since he left Nandaozhou, convinced that he wouldn't get anywhere playing for a midtable SuperLleague side, for the Askari Union. He had been preparing for this. And he strode up calmly to the spot, determined to take advantage of the sudden opportunity.

Herrera took a deep breath, three quick steps up to the ball, and sent it fifteen feet over the crossbar.

[Eura]

OOC: Continued from this RP.

Hitting the ground at a slowing speed but with plenty of force, very little control and no stability, the helicopter belly flopped at a slight angle, before its rotor blades chopped into the ground and a lamp post. The resulting physical impulse turned it on its side at about a 45 degree angle. Some of the survivors, including Amelia, couldn't remember any of this. Her head had smacked against the kevlar lined walls of the passenger cabin knocking her out cold. She was in Brinemouth now. Rainy day, sometime in autumn. There was Aidan. Damn, he was a pain in the arse, she thought to herself. She pondered what her former next door neighbour was going to show her in the big city. Where was his boyfriend? Had they broken up? It probably should have rung alarm bells that she was floating three feet off the ground among all this imagery but blunt trauma is a hell of a drug. Real life would come flowing back imminently. She saw red - blood red. Why was Aidan screaming? Someone was thumping a hammer at the table next to them, what kind of cafe was this? An imaginary one it turned out.

The crew chief woke her up. 'Hey, don't move your head!'
'...what?'
'Don't move your head, stay down!' The screaming hadn't been Aidan after all. One of the others was writhing about holding a stump of a leg. Amelia remembered she was in some Sameban hellhole. Maltecco if she recalled correctly. That hammering sound that had bothered her in the dream was technically a hammer of sorts, rasping over and over consistently as Orson let rip with a light machine gun out of the side of the downed chopper, using the floor as a sort of partial shield. Amelia's field of view was a bit limited by her inability to move her neck and immediately panic set in. Death was preferable to being an inanimate object in her book. The crew chief was trying to reassure her but she hadn't been listening. 'Help me. Help, I can't move it.'
'I know, you're really hurt and I'm not a medic alright? Stay down please, don't move. We'll get you out of here. Oh shit!' Crouched on one knee, he flipped up his submachine gun using the attached strap and fired a short burst past her head. Her ears rang painfully; he apologetically grimaced her way and gave a thumbs up. 'Fuck, more to our right! 50 metres! Fucking roast them!' A minigun hooked to the right side of the cabin roared into life, operated by Marion with Lieutenant Desmond pointing out targets to her, its excruciatingly loud hum filling the crash site with noise.

Amelia wasn't sure of a few things. How they were operating that gun with the electronics almost certainly toast for one thing. What concerned her most was the fate of her squad. More importantly, where the hell were they? 'Orson, come over here, please!'
'Hey!' He dashed over and got down next to her so close that his hitting the floor made her feel total agony. 'Help me Ors, I can't move.'
'Thank fuck you're alive though eh? Does it hurt?'
'Course it bloody does!' He stabilised her head with a well positioned backpack and filled her in on what had happened. 'We've gone down in some street next to a T junction. There's Sammies coming from every direction, militia have been trying to rush us for twenty minutes. That mouthy pilot is alive but he can't get out of his seat. Co-pilot and left gunner dead. Crew chief looked after you while I've been shooting at every little shit that moves out there.'
'What about our guys?'
'Marion and Desmond are good. Two of the others are dead now, and Nia fell out of the bird. Think she must be dead or pinned, she hasn't come back. Listen, can you move your arm?' Miraculously she could move her right arm a few inches up and down and side to side, and a couple of her fingers could be pulled with some pain. 'Nice one. You've got a clear shot through the cockpit if anyone tries to rush it.' Orson placed a handgun in her hand and went back to work.

Minutes turned into hours as they fought to survive. Tears were streaming down Amelia's face as she lay there like the useless arsehole she believed herself to be through this debacle. Sheridan's mangled corpse was lying next to her and stank. None of the conversation going on around her here and there was particularly reassuring. 'Shit, you see that one by the truck? They've got Nia.'
'Fucking hell, can we help?'
'She's...holy...don't bother.'
'We can get there!'
'No, don't bother.' Although Amelia couldn't see it, Nia had survived her fall about a block away, the others spotted her stripped down and bloodied body being thrown onto the back of a truck hurriedly with her helmet. If she wasn't dead already she would be soon. It was too late. Darkness approached and it felt like the attackers were getting closer with every minute. 'No evac! What?!'
'We can't lose another chopper. Someone will come soon alright. Chauffeur and all.' The pilot had tried and failed to get help on the radio. Their only relief came in the form of an awesome display of firepower from a gunship scrambled to their location. It strafed the surrounding buildings with a 30mm cannon and followed up using rockets that turned the structures into pockmarked death traps.

Ammunition supplies dried up by the time that Amelia had to fire a shot in anger out of the front. The pilot had run out long ago and opted to try and shield his upper body and face in the very visible cockpit by putting anything he could (including a full set of body armour) in front of his seat and console. She saved his hide when an overzealous Sameban conscript popped up with a rifle and tried to rake the cockpit in the narrow gap that she could shoot through. 'Cheers lass! Nepharim aren't such bad shots after all.'
'I don't think I hit him. Scared him off.'
'That'll have to do!' Amelia and everyone else had got quiet apart from the odd quip or yelled instruction. They were in deadly trouble. If the ammo ran out before help came it was going to be a matter of minutes before the decreasingly cautious Sameban forces surrounding them realised what was going on and stormed the crashed helicopter, killing or capturing everyone inside. Orson came back over during a rare lull in the fighting to speak to her. 'How are you feeling?'
'Shite. We're going to die aren't we? These things always end that way.'
'We thought that earlier, and yet here we are. Never over 'till the fat lady sings.' Orson's face contorted and he crumpled down to his knees, keeling over onto his left side by her right, and behind him a Sameban with tin helmet and sniper rifle lined up for another shot through the ruined neighbouring building.

Orson wasn't moving but Amelia didn't have time to think about that so she pulled the trigger again and again until the pistol stopped shooting. Never in her life had she made anything like a crack shot yet this one did the trick. The sniper vanished and his gun dropped off the window sill and broke on the ground. 'Ors wake up mate!' He wouldn't budge, not even a little shudder. Shit, why wouldn't he move at all? The crew chief attended to him desperately and Amelia was now dropping in and out of consciousness. She hoped that if she died Orson would make it at least. He deserved it more. Desmond was now using his pistol and looking frenzied as he counted the remaining rounds on one hand. They had thrown the kitchen sink at the forces besieging their position but were still not out of the woods. In time Amelia decided to give up. She'd promised her parents she never would but there was no preferable alternative. She sure as hell didn't want to watch her squadmates get blown away or be awake to be beaten up and tortured by whichever sick bastards in the Republican Guard they would hand her over to. Blissful nothingness was moments from fruition. A light shone through the cockpit and for a fleeting moment Amelia's nerves kicked in as she reflected on how she hadn't been to a church in her entire life. It was not a ray of sunshine from up on high but the torchlight did represent a kind of saviour. The Commando who it emanated from spoke into his headset as the sound of armoured vehicles made the whole helicopter shudder. Unaware of what any of this meant in her barely coherent thoughts, Amelia passed out, and woke up six days later in a hospital bed.

Many months later

Bastion never smelled so good. Petrol and other kinds of pollutant, rain, a kebab shop, it was all a lovely reminder of the luxuries everyday life brings. Amelia valued each and every second she could walk without some dick in a lab coat refusing to let her move alone, without the training wheels, which is what she liked to call the wheel chair. Lots of unhappy Euran's were walking past her and her gleaming grin as they left Bastion Arena following Eura's disappointing 2-3 defeat at home to Nephara. 'Why the fuck is Nolan still playing?'
'Did Tommo actually change all that much today?'
'Don't get carried away, Nephara are bloody good.'
'Not good enough to justify that mess out there.' It was reassuring to Amelia that in the midst of the chaos and hurt inflicted upon this country ordinary people were still able to get angry at stuff that didn't really matter in the grand scheme of things. Of all the victories her Euran hosts had won that was probably the most important of all. The war wasn't won yet, no. However it was hard to see Samebus lasting much longer. If the papers were right, there was a big event on the horizon over there and it wasn't going to make the war any longer. Her war on the other hand was already over.

Although she had got back on her feet faster than any doctor had said was feasible the impact of Amelia's injuries meant that the Nepharim Army had no issue with signing off on an honourable discharge. The new and more pragmatic government at home was finding that the costs of fighting Eura's war ran deep and Amelia's medical bills were yet another addition to the lengthy bill. Unfortunately there was no backing out, not when the fight still needed finishing, and not when Sameba had conquered territory belonging to Nephara and slaughtered innocents on the streets of its major cities in state sponsored terrorist attacks. Each body or wounded survivor that came back to the homeland was just another nudge in favour of the pro-war polling statistics. It would be done before long anyway if the Euran's could find that breakthrough from the front foot attrition and take down the whole beast. She been offered a job helping with that task by providing security for prisoner of war camps inside Sameba itself. Amelia had zero intention of returning to the place where she'd basically been chewed up and spat out again before. She politely but promptly rejected the offer.

Alternatively another offer came in from a firm contracted by the Euran Foreign Office to rebuild the infrastructure in the Euran occupied southern half of Sameba, which was in dire need of repair after a Euran occupation that was characterised by lack of funding and lack of concern for many central heartland Sameban's. International criticism be damned - there was no way the government could sell the idea of a totally comprehensive aid and rebuilding programme to the public until the war was won. None of this appealed to her for the same reasons as the prisons job so she decided to get an interim role for a small company in the capital and go from there. Amelia would go home one day. On the other hand a big part of her now believed Eura was as good as home. Never mind, she thought as she reached the metro station. The parents could be persuaded on the merits of having to travel from their small town abode to this ridiculous mega metropolis. She had actually considered citizenship too. All service personnel from Nephara to have participated in the war had been given special privileges when it came to seeking citizenship in Eura or any Euran Overseas Territories. All of that could be dealt with later. 'We won!'
'It seems we did. In more ways than one right?'
'Too right mate.' Orson gave her a triumphant hug. 'Can't breathe Ors!'
'Sorry. Feeling good?'
'Never better.' Amelia and Orson set off for the central districts to celebrate the completion of his last operation. A night out with a good friend was just what the doctor ordered. Life was good again.

[Chromatika]

World Cup Proper Matchday 1: Eura 3-2 Chromatika @ Cenial Halcyon National Stadium
Chromatika: Victoriane '26, Andisori '62
Starting Lineup: Nier; Morningstar - Aart - Ellen; Kelly (C) - Montague - Sybill - Dragana; Victoriane - Andisori - Niro. Subs: Damjana-> Ellen '62, Liam -> Dragana '76, Rien -> Victoriane '82

A hard-fought match ended up in a loss for the Chromatiks as the Eurans' combination of size and speed was too much for the team. Oscar Coltrane made up for the blunders that Morrison and Butler made, and Keira Andisori's last-attempt shot at goal was saved by Griffin. That's not to say that the Chromatiks didn't have many chances - Kaytlyn Victoriane and Keira Andisori did score - but Eura's revenge was made complete from that midqual defeat.

The loss puts Chromatika on its back foot, where it needs favorable results against Super-Llamaland and Qasden to have any chance of moving on. Parker's team needs to bounce back, and they need to bounce back fast.

World Cup Proper Matchday 2: Qasden vs. Chromatika @ Lake Cenial Stadium
Predicted Starting Lineup: Nier; Morningstar - Aart - Ellen; Kelly (C) - Montague - Sybill - Dragana; Victoriane - Andisori - Niro.

The Chromatiks' job doesn't get any easier as they now face Qasden, who has scored their first point in a draw against Super-Llamaland. Knowing that they must in all likelihood win both of the remaining matches to proceed, Parker will be counting on a combination of his genius and the talent of his roster in order to carry the team through. Or is this the cycle when things actually return back to earth?

[Valanora]

Valanora Times
Exceed Expectations

Coming into the World Cup and knowing about the situation surrounding the roster, there had to be a scaled back version of the expectations the fans home and abroad would have to have for the Marauders and the success that they would find in Ceni. Had this been the normal roster that the pundits and fans had become so used to seeing over the last century, then naturally the expectation for the squad would to be make the Quarterfinals, as they had all the experience and talent in the team and quite a few players that had helped have a hand in all five of those stars that are blazened upon the crest that is on the Marauders kits. A few still remain, but it is not quite the same as having an entire squad that has seen decades of football and has forgotten more about the game than most individuals can even begin to learn in a lifetime. Hawk has lived a lifetime of lifetimes and still has yet to find that form of perfection and excellence that he strives for, and if one of the greatest footballers of all time can not find that secret stretch of perfection across decades and centuries, then there is very little chance that those in the mortal coil can. For what they lack in experience though, there may just be a small measure of grit that has been absent from the Marauders squad for several decades.

This comes on the heels of the Marauders having to escape from the opening match of the group against Kita-Hinode by the skin of their teeth and after having giving up a late two to one lead in the last ten minutes of the match. Laborious Hawk had scored the opening goal five minutes into the match, only for the side to concede when Kagomi Kurosawa put one past the young Vanorian keeper. Fresco scored from the spot after Soldarian was taken down just inside of the penalty area just before the halftime whistle, making the Marauders feel fairly good going into the halftime break and team talk. However the Geists were going to give the Marauders all they could handle and test the will of these newly minted nationals, putting up a hard press and grueling attack that eventually broke the wall that had been formed in front of the Vanorian net. It felt like the entire air came out of the stadium when Iori Saitou's strike ruffled the back of the net and brought the teams level on terms with just ten minutes left into the match.

Step in the discarded Brenecian and striker with a massive chip on his shoulder in the form of Fionn Lynch. Three minutes of added time had been signaled by the fourth official as the Marauders were lining up for a corner kick after Espy va Drake's long range effort had been deflected out by the Kita-Hinode defense. Va Drake sent in a high curling inswinger from the right corner flag and Lynch launched himself into the air from the penalty spot and smashed the ball downwards towards the goal. The ball bounced with a surprising amount of force off the surface and up over the diving keeper and into the back of the net, as a roar began to emerge from the east stand where the Vanorian fans had congregated for the match. Laborious Hawk came over and lifted Lynch into the air and the striker pumped up his fist in celebration, then turning around and pointing out the name plate on the back of his kit, seemingly a message being sent to those back in Brenecia that doubted that he could make a difference.

With three points now in the bag, the Marauders can exhale slightly, but only just, as now they get to face a regional rival and one of the best teams in the world right now with the high octaned attack of Farfadillis. With the likes of Çíânflöné on the squad, there are names that those in Valanora will be quite familiar with but also full of experience, several of their players having now participated in three World Cups. It is the battle for the group title and for the easiest go in the last matches of the group stage between ourselves and Farfadillis and one that will really test the resolve of this new team and just how much depth that there is in the human players with some rotation expected, especially along the backline. The Marauders will likely want to go with a possession style game, having had success with that tactic against Farfadillis in the past, but at the same time, there have been two games where the Farfadillis attack simply overcame that strength of the midfield and tore that tactic apart. If the Marauders want to really go for their pre Calling expectations, then a win is required, for to reach that, they must exceed what all believe is possible now.

[Drawkland]

Win or lose, remember to Be Humble ... cutoff and results!

[Bonesea]

.

[Ceni]

---

In the Garden

---

A ladybug climbs up the green stalk
As the breeze gently sways the flower to and fro.
White petals, fragments from an angel's robe,
Surround the star in the center like a halo.

---

To Brobdingnag We Go
Chapter Three: Mary Pickfords and Royal Invitations

---

With its glass-clad skyscrapers shimmering in the lights of the Cenian night, Novastar Avenue definitely lived up to its reputation of glitz and glamour. Beforehand, Andrew had though that he would look out of place, but he had apparently underestimated the lengths Cenial's rich and powerful would go to outdo each other here in the proximity of so many of their kin. With a store and restaurant to cater to every taste, and with price tags to boot, it was no wonder they flocked here.

Admittedly, finding the restaurant challenged Andrew, with the general commotion going on in the area, but he eventually found the word "Neoteric" spelled out in clean modern letters on one of the buildings. Opening the door, he found what appeared to be a cavernous discotheque, with balls and lights and the whole kit and caboodle. He found a bathroom, ducking in. The nearest mirror, body-sized, showed him a view of himself: a thin figure, fit, with black hair cut short, complemented by the tuxedo he wore. Suddenly, pangs of nervousness overtook him; he adjusted his black bow tie, retied his matching cummerbund, and tightened his shoelaces in a last effort to make sure every detail was perfect. Taking a deep breath, he stepped out into the restaurant.

Standing at the doorway were Sarah and Seth, dressed equally well. Seth's garb was what he had expected: the ubiquitous suit and tie. But Sarah: Sarah simply dazzled. Simple yet elegant, her pale green dress sparkled in the light, and the pearl necklace looped around her neck brought out the pale blue color in her eyes.

"Are hugs in order?" Andrew asked Sarah sheepishly.

"If you want to hug my waist, sure," replied Sarah sardonically. "Besides, we just saw each other - do we really need to hug?"

"Sarah's not really the hugging type - if you haven't gathered that already," interjected Seth. "I'll partake in a hug if you want."

"I think you should just shake his hand, Dad," whispered Sarah. "I'm not sure men normally hug each other in public here, especially if one of the men is a Drawkian."

"Oh, good thought, Sarah." Seth stuck his hand out to Andrew, who cautiously accepted it, only to find it crushed by the Drawkian's strength.

"Not... so... hard, Dad," Andrew managed to reply. Seth let go, and the three Arrowswords marched to the maitre d', who promptly seated them.

A waiter arrived and rattled off an extensive list of specials before inviting the party to peruse an equally long list of drinks and cocktails. Andrew barely paid attention to the waiter's spiel, intently staring at the bouquet of simple white flowers neatly arranged in a metal vase at the center of the table. For some reason, they reminded him of his mother... a flashback came, of a time when he was young, not older than six or seven. The two of them were playing in a park... yes, it was coming to him now: he had plucked three white flowers, similar to those on the table, and given them to her. She hugged him, kissed him; they stayed in the park for hours, enjoying the calm lakeside breeze... Suddenly, he heard a call from the outside.

"Andrew, want anything to drink? Andrew? Andrew?" It was Sarah bugging him about the drink order; the waiter had returned, with a pen at the ready to scribble down their orders.

Jolted out of his trip into the past, he flipped through the list of drinks while the waiter stood patiently. Finally, he was sent away with an order for a Mary Pickford, after which Sarah inquired as to the composition of said drink. "White rum, pineapple juice, grenadine, Maraschino liqueur. It's a sweet and fruity concoction, without much taste of alcohol."

"And since when were you an alcohol connoisseur?" asked Sarah, skeptically.

Andrew shrugged. "I've had this cocktail before. I liked it." He smiled. "Don't worry, Sarah, I won't get drunk." The drinks arrived, and the party began to consult the menu for the main meal; by the time the waiter returned, all had decided on something to eat, despite the immense difficulty of that endeavor.

Seth cleared his throat. "Andre, I'm sure that you've been wondering why I'm finally here after twenty-five years -"

"Twenty-four years. I'm only twenty-four."

"Anyway, I have some interesting news, to say the least. Iarocav, the Supreme Drawkionel of Drawkland, has invited you and Sarah - as a duo of soccer stars - to a reception at his palace in honor of Ceni and Drawkland's winning bid for the World Cup. It's a great honor, Andrew, I hope you'll accept."

Sarah jumped into the conversation. "Afterwards, if you'd like, we can take you on a tour of Drawkland. It can just be the big places - or we could go pretty much everywhere. It's a big country - there's a lot to do."

"A tour of the whole country? What can I say to that?" Andrew stammered.

"How about yes?" asked Sarah. "Yes would be a good answer."

"Well, I'm not sure if I could miss a whole domestic season to explore the whole thing. But I could explore a little with you guys... that would be fun." He sipped his cocktail.

"So the answer is yes?" Seth confirmed.

At that moment, Andrew's doubts - and his resentment of his father - caught up to his mouth, and he shook his head. "I'm not sure if I really want to... do I owe enough loyalty to you to call you family, to owe any obligation to Drawkland. Ceni is my home, and..." His thoughts trailed off. "I guess what I'm saying is that I'd love to, but I'm not sure if I should."

"Come on! What's the conflict here?" asked Sarah.

"It just feels like you guys are pressuring me... I want to make my decision without pressure. And let me call Mom first. I think she can help with the emotion of this all."

The food came, and Andrew admired the artful presentation of the dishes. Andrew's duck, Seth's shellfish medley, Sarah's shrimp and scallops all looked delectable. Draining his cocktail, Andrew waved off the waiter's attempts to sell him another one; Seth whispered something to him, and he came back with three glasses of champagne. "To family," he proposed. All three of them raised their glasses, although Andrew only did so halfheartedly. Seth and Sarah were related to him by blood, sure - but were they family?

The rest of the meal came and went without significant incident, dominated by small talk, despite Sarah's insistence that she hated it. As soon as the bill was paid, the three bid adieu. With some apparent nudging by Seth, Sarah finally managed to compliment Andrew's tuxedo. He looked in the mirror again before he left: he had to admit he looked pretty damn handsome in it.

Soon, Andrew had returned to Whitehaven and found himself dialing his mother's phone number. "Mom, you would never believe who I met today!" His mother's voice came back over the line, asking just exactly who he had met. "I met Dad."

There was only silence on the other end for a wile. Then Andrew heard his mother utter two words: "That asshole."

---

Ceni's "negative Nellie" instinct kicks in again despite win over Free Republics

---

What would be a critical victory for most teams has turned into a shameful embarrassment for Ceni as Luke Longstar notched his first ever World Cup victory over Free Republics - but only barely after a topsy-turvy game that saw Cenian fans on tenterhooks for the whole ninety minutes. Instead of celebrating the country's first World Cup win for four years, Cenian fans are instead griping about conceding two goals to a team of teenagers, ranked 54th in the world, in what should have been a certain victory, and worrying about the decisive clash with Abanhfleft to determine who will advance out of a tight Group E.

Despite Ceni's advantage on paper, the game was much harder than anticipated. Free Republics, led by their star player Love Holm, a fourteen-year-old, played an attacking game throughout the match, one that, inexplicably, managed to cut through Ceni's defense like a knife through hot butter at times, while Free Republics' defense - led by the 19-year-old goalkeeper Stig Roivas - sometimes acted like an iron wall around the goal. Nonetheless, Ceni looked good enough at times to overcome their surprisingly languid performance for most of the ninety minutes, especially with Andrew Arrowsword the best player on the pitch by far. His brace put Ceni ahead 2-1 after halftime, thanks to one inspired solo run and another solid pass from Avi Renning, the Di Bradini Cup star who has shown no issues transitioning to the senior game. Free Republics fought back in the second half, with Holm scoring the second of his two goals, but Kel Koromin, Ceni's all-time leading goalscorer, tapped in a pass from Arrowsword in the eightieth minute. Ceni's travails weren't done - Holm launched his third run on goal - but Ryan Navir stopped him in his tracks with a quality save. Cenian fans could breathe a sigh of relief when the ref's whistle blew - they had secured the three points.

Nonetheless, fans were livid after the conclusion: Ceni had a solid ten-KPB lead over the 54th-ranked team, made up of teenagers. It should have been a blowout, something on the order of four to nil or something like that; Ceni should have shown those teenagers who was boss! Why was the game this close, especially when goal difference is the primary tiebreaker?

Blame could be shifted to all parts of the team, but especially the defense. Despite earlier successes in friendlies, Ceni's four-member defense hindered rather than helped its defensive efforts. It didn't seem very flexible, defenders competed over the ball, and everyone was in everyone else's face. Meanwhile, it seemed disconnected from the midfield and offense, which are, of course, the driving force of Ceni's strategy, and attempted clearances didn't help Ceni move the ball up the field much. The midfield wasn't the spark it has been in previous matches, despite its all-star lineup of Valaran, Renning, del Toro, and Onasi; Kel Koromin, no offense, is getting too old and too slow, despite his creativity. All of these issues plagued Ceni during this match, and, to a lesser extent, in the match with Bonesea.

As a result, two games in, Longstar's innovative four-defender strategy is out: after the failures of the defense in both World Cup games so far, he announced that he has decided to alter Ceni's starting lineup for the all-important game against Abanhfleft. The defense will feature Ceni's traditional three-man lineup, Lorechian, Turich-Albertson, and Morroghany, while shifting in Nova Kymeri - who has performed exceptionally in Schottia - to a role as a holding midfielder. Longstar hopes - as does everyone - that this change will give the defense more options to block Abanhfleft's offense earlier on.

With this result, everyone's minds is, of course, on Abanhfleft, who defeated Free Republics 2-0 on the first day of games before getting demolished by Bonesea, 3-0. Both teams have three points and a goal differential of negative one, so the spoils will definitely go to the victor, with Bonesea having secured advancement after their win against Abahnfleft. A draw in the Cenial Halcyon National Stadium, however, would not be a favorable outcome for either team: with the teams exactly tied in the group standings, a draw will lead to World Cup organizers flipping a coin to determine who advances. Ceni and Abanhfleft have met two times before: Ceni won 2-1 four years ago in the finals of World Cup 77 (incidentally, Ceni's last win in the World Cup finals), while Abanhfleft won a recent friendly 6-4. With the World Cup held on home soil and a tarnished WC legacy, to say the least, Ceni has more to play for, so they are the slight favorites, but anything can happen against Bustamante's men in two days.

[Nephara]

Ethane 1 - 2 Nephara
(4-2-3-1) 1 - Tsattalios; 2 - Rafford (18 - Brymora 61'), 5 - Konoval, 22 - Theuer, 3 - Lohengrin (c); 4 - Misidjan, 8 - Rosenthal; 13 - Fanaiyan, 14 - Rowan (21 - Gosforth 76'), 11 - Strongbow (16 - Aspenwood 73'); 9 - Hawke
Goals: Hawke 38', Gosforth 81'

Goals change games.
That was the central truth of football. People could talk all they want about 'deserving' wins, or being robbed, but it was all bullshit. Rightly or wrongly, every goal was a sliding doors moment, and you just never could know what was on the other side, because every footballer and every team reacted differently.
Most of the time, for instance, the veteran Kevyn Stidolph's audacious attempt to force a low shot past Tsattalios' near post wouldn't've worked. Tsattalios was overcommitted to the idea of a cutback, and in truth Rafford gave the canny winger too much space in the first place. But as it stood, Stidolph saw the gap and hammered the ball into it, and Tsattalios couldn't get down to it in time, and fifteen whole minutes into the second match, Nephara's World Cup hopes looked shredded.
Had Tsattalios made the save - or Rafford the block - the shot would've stayed out. But Nephara were struggling for fluency, passes not quite sticking. Maybe had the goal never come, never given them something to overcome, maybe the game ends scoreless after ninety minutes, with Nepharim hopes hanging by the merest thread?

Instead, they did what Nepharim do.
They found a way.

Estrella Hawke was first.
She'd been a big player in the early moments, and snatched at her chances. Nepharim supporters had groaned and clutched their heads as their world class striker, played masterfully through on goal by Rowan in the ninth minute, dragged her shot agonisingly a metre wide. From then, aside from a marginal chance that she'd only been able to shoot straight at Church, she'd been marked down heavily.
She didn't mind a challenge, though. Her friends just needed to find her.
Leona Rafford was one of them - perhaps something more than a friend, after a wild, well, Incident a while back. It had been a bad idea to continue, so they hadn't. Hawke now had a guy called Lysander she'd met in Sabrefell, Rafford now had her rebel-without-a-cause aesthetic.
Still, she liked to think it gave them that little extra... chemistry.
The little extra edge that meant Rafford knew the runs Hawke made, knew the height she jumped, and knew how sudden her bursts of pace could be.
And yes, some might say that kind of chemistry actually just came from a lot of drilling. But whatever it was, the final result saw Rafford jink past Desantis and swing in a peach of a cross that bisected the Ethanian defence just as Hawke ran into it and headed it into the top corner.

Konrad Gosforth was second.
It had been deep into the second half, with the fans calling his name from about the hour mark, before he was called upon. That was always going to be on the cards if they'd needed to chase the game, but Brandon had to admit it wasn't ideal - he'd've liked to have given the burly midfielder another match of rest. But Rowan, lively for the first hour, had looked burned-out and uninspired lately, and with two substitutions made (Rafford, still only just recuperating from injury, had been recommended only to get an hour, while Aspenwood had replaced Strongbow on the left), he had to go for it.
So on came Gosforth, to a cheering crowd, and took up his place in the heart of attacking midfield. He still didn't look... great, still very obviously only at 80% - another Nephara might try and capitalise by hitting him with a few reducers. For better or worse, Ethane shunned that kind of physicality.
Perhaps some of their fans would regret that, for the Ma Alameome playmaker then had the chance to prove what 80% of him was still worth.
It started with the distribution. Tsattalios had been immense since his early failing, and leapt to confidently claim the ball. With barely a pause for breath, he rifled the ball upfield, looking for a very specific target.
It was a good ball, but he didn't expect it to become a World Cup assist.
Gosforth took it on the chest, holding off the defensive-minded substitute Stevens before suddenly and aggressively pressing past him, with one direction in mind - the goal. Aspenwood sprang free down the left, drawing a runner - Gosforth ignored her, and Hawke, and when Fear (the South Saints defender, not the concept) came for him he just rolled the ball calmly to one side and smashed a piledriver into the net.
And that, for the benefit of the doubters, was why he was captain.

Declan Smith could have been third.
Very clearly not a Nepharim name, for Smith was Ethane's substitute striker, their last roll of the dice, a gifted teenage striker who'd ripped the Explosive League apart in his first season. Certain parallels could be drawn to Hawke.
By the 89th minute the situation had changed, and now it was Ethane facing an early elimination. Already an aggressive side by nature, they pumped up the pressure out of necessity and it looked like it was paying dividends, Nephara being pushed further and further back. Almost immediately after Gosforth's goal, it had taken a proper professional foul, more or less a body-check by Theuer, to prevent Jaurequi getting through.
The Sebio forward was taken off immediately afterwards, and on came Smith. The wild card, the ace up the sleeve. The stage was set out before him.
It was especially set out before him with a beautiful, sweeping diagonal ball from Veresoto, invisible for the ninety minutes but suddenly the right man in the right place to carve open the midfield and suddenly Smith was running for the ball, got there marginally ahead of the charging Konoval and nicked it past him as Konoval's studs raked his heel - he stumbled, but admirably forged on, kept the chance alive. The first touch was heavy but the second was impeccable and then he was bearing down on goal, locked shoulder to shoulder with Theuer as other Nepharim sprinted back to cover, faced with an increasingly narrow angle on goal...
He remembered Stidolph's opener.
He took the shot.
This time, though, Tsattalios was there, and saved the ball with his legs. Goals change games - and the status quo suited the Cormorants just fine.

[Brenecia]

Pasarga 1 - 1 Brenecia
(4-2-3-1) 1 - Woodgate; 2 - Carrack, 5 - Scrivener, 6 - Szubanski, 3 - Quill (19 - Lovelock 78'); 4 - Gryphon (c), 8 - Hartsdown (16 - Drover 62'); 15 - Crowther, 11 - Balliol, 13 - Keohane (10 - Ashbrown 71'); 9 - Riordan
Goal: Gryphon 28'

"I'll take it."
It was a feeling, more than it was logic. And it came out as a command. But Gryphon knew, here and now, that she could make the difference.
Balliol hesitated, but what was there to hesitate about?
Gryphon doubled down. "Trust me." And the number 11, doomed by an uncaring father to live in the shadows of the world-class playmaker he was named after, licked his lips pensively and stepped away from it.
Good.

The match hadn't started out in the best fashion for the Patriots. They'd all remembered what Bardsley had told them before last match, what Bardsley would sweetly remind them at half-time - when you are trying to remain tight and compact, when that is the focus of your entire game plan against technically superior opposition, do not fucking concede first.
So when Jurkovic, Feierabend and Karpaty combined into a lovely triangle before laying off for Sigurjonsdottir to hammer the finishing touch into the back of the net within three minutes it was less than optimal, for many reasons.
Still, reluctantly, ungainly, the Patriots clanked into gear, shifting into a more assertive position and aiming to wrest back control of midfield with their spare player. Pasarga had a strong core and powerful strikers but were vulnerable down the flanks, and the plan from here was simple - get it out wide, to the small, tricky lasses, Crowther and Keohane, so out of place in this side but so, so necessary to elevate it above the pedestrian. Let them handle it.
It had been a qualified success, but the final product wasn't quite there for them - when it was for them, it abandoned their usual target, Riordan. The Klyde striker was doing her job in terms of being a big, strong nuisance to deal with, but had already shanked a couple of presentable chances well wide and headed a peach of a cross from Quill straight down Shalhoub's throat. Denied her as a source of goals, the wingers tried to take things on themselves. And failed.
It was bad enough that a more cynical watcher might remark that the most productive contribution Keohane could make would be to fall over a little softly when challenged by Sommer.
So it proved.

Catherine Gryphon, she of the one goal from over a hundred caps, stepped back from the ball. She was one of those players known as a 'set piece specialist' in a vague sort of way, but really it was just a natural extension of her penchant for long, pinpoint passes. And a shot was just a long, pinpoint pass except that the target was a goal instead of a person, and at least most of the time a goal was much wider. Easy.
Most of the time, she'd hit it into the maze of bodies at a presentable height for any of the tall timber to snap up and deflect goalwards, but that wasn't really an option now - she was too front-on, too close. She could loft the ball into the mixer, but then Shalhoub would just claim it. No, from here, she had to trust her instincts, she had t-
The whistle blew.
No more time to think, just lope forward with a single stride before hammering the ball goalwards and she knew from the start she'd hit it too close to the goalkeeper, on target but at a comfortable height and straight down his throat, right up until Hunor, in the wall, leapt obediently and grimaced as the ball slammed into his cheek and redirected its trajectory from Shalhoub to the bottom corner.
Gryphon was almost embarrassed with the goal celebrations, but tried to play it off as best she could, and her stoic thousand-yard stare 'celebration' would ultimately become one of the memes of the World Cup. But there was a lot to reflect on. You made your own luck.. And you didn't win the lottery without buying a ticket.
But, man, that was basically a fluke.

Nothing of interest would happen in the second half, apart from a speculative drive from Krause slamming into the crossbar from about thirty yards, and that suited the Patriots fine. They had four points from their strongest opponents, and while Sargossa were obviously no pushovers (and had a far longer WCC pedigree than, say, Brenecia) they could be quietly confident of the three points, as long as they didn't let their own standards drop.
And of course, there were no signs of that.

[Schottia]

A Non-Religious Classical Festive Song

Part Two.

The Past.

Connie had run straight for the medication in her jacket pocket, reading the bottle over several times. Of course she had left all the important information booklets back in Ceni, and only has the writing on the side to go by. Dumping them on her bedside table, she had decided that the best course of action was to try and get some sleep, no matter how uneasy. The room was still cold, hauntingly cold, and the Polaris striker left her dressing gown on as she slipped back under the covers. Shaking beneath the blankets - impossibly thin for this time of year - she eventually fell into an uneasy half sleep.

Drifting in and out of a dream where she and Ross were starting up front for C.D. FAS in the Champions' Cup final, Connie was unable to tell how long she had been asleep for. The bell from what must have been the village hall had just chimed one, denying her the moment of dreaming about scoring a stoppage time penalty against Handon United. The room was still as cold, the night silent, as the bell's solitary ring echoed long in her ears.

Connie was then alerted to something. A brilliant white light, starting small, just a spark at first, but continuing to grow until it filled every corner of the room. Connie gritted her teeth, her face contorted with concern, as she beheld what must have been the first of the spirits Mr Hanson's ghost had mention. While she was still frightened, she made no effort to arm herself: there was no way of telling whether this was real or hallucination, but Connie figured it made little difference either way.

'Are you one of those ghost-things?' Connie asked at last, her words finally finding her.

'I am.' A smooth, bright voice issued from the centre of the light; with the same ringing quality as bell that had proceeded it's arrival. 'Come, Corinne Martel-Burns.' The Spirit began to head towards the wall of the hotel room, which seemed to melt away as it made contact, resembling, now, the ethereal quality of a dream. Connie knew what was expected of her, but still she hesitated. This was it, she was almost probably insane, and walking straight into what was likely to be a brick wall was going to remove the probably. With the crashes and thumps that had come from this hotel room already tonight, she was in danger of being asked to leave. She looked over her shoulder than back, as if she hoped the apparition would be gone by the time she turned round. 'Come.' The Spirit said once more; not hurried, nor calm, just deadpan. With that Connie reached out and was sucked into the swirling and swirling wormhole that led to her past.

After regaining her wits, the Schottia star found herself in a familiar setting. It was the training pitch at Harbour Hill, during a Handon United youth session. Connie immediately shrunk away, suddenly aware that she was still in her dressing gown, as the players passed the ball around her. The Spirit, however, offered her reassurance. 'These are merely recordings Corrine, you cannot affect any of these events, as they have already played out.'

A few flakes of snow fell from the evening sky, as Connie looked around, surprised that her bare feet were not cold against the slushy surface of the turf. Was it because she was indeed staring at a vision of the past, or was she just standing on the hotel room carpet tripping off her face. Turning her attention towards the figures on the pitch, everywhere she looked there were players she recognised. A twelve-year-old Dilon Bánach bobbed past her, followed by Oliver Helling, exactly the way she remembered him, with acne and that fluff on his chin he used to call a beard. John Mulgray then came into view, a young man who would later go on be arrested in Quebec for taking part in a violent protest. Connie nearly reached out to touch the young auburn haired boy as he trotted past, a person who had made more of an impression on her than any she had met before. She stopped mid action though, as a young girl came into view. No older than thirteen, small with a black bob-haircut, flanked by two older men - it was her.

'Right!' Carl Sorensen shouted loudly. He was one of the two men stood beside her, the then team manager. 'This is Corrine. Corrine Martel-Burns, from Quebec.' The Semar informed the rest of the team as they slowly gathered round. It wasn't true of course, she was only half Quebecois and was born in Schottia, but she had been such a Hazel van Robben fangirl back then, that she told everyone she was from Quebec. 'She's joined up as part of the outreach programme, so I want you all to make her welcome... She's a decent striker.'

Connie smiled at the memory. Back then she was going to conquer the World; only there as a stepping stone; or so she thought. She was going to be playing for C.D. FAS and Quebec in a couple of years time, as soon as she got off of this miserable island... or so she would tell anyone who would listen.

'Do you remember?' The spirit asked coldly.

'Yes.' Connie replied, shaking her head as she reflected on how differently her life had panned out. 'I remember I thought I'd been expelled, when the cunts from the outreach programme came to tell me I had a trial with United.' The Programme had been designed to reengage teenagers-with-behavioural-problems through sport. She, Mulgray, and a couple of others were all in the United youth squad for a while - the fact the she was the only one still playing professionally, was maybe testament to the fact that a leopard never changed it's spots. As she watched her teenage self jog over, through the crisp December night to join her new teammates, she wondered for the first time how regular members of the squad thought about the Outreach recruits. Connie saw the nervous look on the face of Dilon Bánach, something she had either missed at the time, or perhaps just didn't give a shit about. Connie still moaned to this day about the stuck up United players not making her welcome, but what did she ever do to try and fit in?

'Come, Corrine.' The Spirit's voice brought her back from her thoughts. 'There is more you need to see and we have little time.' With that the Spirit moved and once more the space around it began to distort. More willingly this time, Connie was sucked through the fabric of time and confronted with another Harbour Hill scene, this one a year and a half later.

This time she was stood in the coaches office, watching her fourteen-year-old self sat in front of her, feet set firmly on the desk, arms folded in defiance. The door opened behind them, and the Spirit and Connie turned to see the coach of the United under-16s side enter the room. His name was Robin Stevens, a short, round man, with a shinny bald head and a thick moustache. He wasn't a strict disciplinarian, but he did not suffer fools. Objectively speaking you would say he was a reasonable person, but the fourteen-year-old Connie had seen it differently.

'Could you at least take your feet off my desk?' Stevens asked, but you could tell from his tone that he wasn't expecting much of a response. 'At least pretend to show a little respect...'

'Nah, I'm comfy.' Even Connie cringed at the arrogance of her young self. She remembered this meeting, the "final straw" Stevens had called it, after her latest outburst had seen her deck one of her teammates in the tunnel after a match. Connie had been on borrowed time already, ever since her and Mulgray had turned up to training drunk at ten in the morning.

'Well you can just make yourself un comfy, because you won't be staying.' He looked towards the door, where Carl Sorensen quickly emerged. The fact that the Semar didn't bother to take a seat, told everyone he was going to be brief.

'Oh fuck off!' Connie watched herself laugh loudly, as she realised what was coming.

'That should perhaps be my line.' Sorensen said, not at all impressed. 'Clear your stuff out the locker, pack your things up. If you're not out of here in an hour we will call the police.'

Even as she had been ordered from the premises, Connie had still found it all one big joke. Laughing to the last, as she expected to find another club in a heart beat. She could remember thinking - as she walked through the exit door that evening - that she could just pick up the phone to FAS and get a trial the next week. How wrong she had been of course, as it had been the First Division that lay in wait for her, and Kirk Preston United.

'Corrine, we must keep moving...' The Spirit gently nudged her, back into the wormhole, and way from her discomfort. Connie felt like an idiot, watching the way she had acted, the arrogance, the sense of entitlement she had had back then. It was a feeling that only intensified as the Spirit took her from scene to scene, reminding her of all the times she had acted up. There was:

The time she dropkicked the ball into a Flardanian player's bum, the wrestled the red card from the referees hand at the under-fifteen World Cup. The time she punched Ross Killanen in the face while playing for Kirk Preston. The time she ended a teammate's career, going in two footed in a training match. The time she shot an air rifle at a reporter in Quebec, and the court case which had caused to her to miss the fist IAC, while she faced charges for assaulting a St Johns Arsenal fan...

There was other stuff too though. There were the more emotional scenes of her sitting alone. Arguing with her friends, family, teammates - pushing everyone away. As Connie watched her self age before her eyes, she saw herself becoming more and more resolute. She was unyielding, stubborn, and utterly determined to continue down this path of self-destruction. Whether Mr Hanson's ghost was right about this being shock therapy or not, it certainly had that affect; as for the first time, Connie was able to see the world through the eyes of an outsider.

Finally the Spirit brought her to last year's Mid-Winter party, just twelve months ago. 'There,' it spoke, alerting Connie's attention to conversation in the background. The footballer and the Spirit made their way throng the throng of partygoers, towards the back wall where a one-year-younger, half-pissed Connie was embroiled in a heated argument - one she had forgotten.

'Don't fucking tell me whom I can and cannot fucking speak to.' Connie spat the words in Evelyn Conjure's direction, her glass of beer swaying dangerously in her hand.

'He is a sensitive sole, and he is my best friend.' The Brinemouth midfielder retorted, not intimidated by Connie's aggressive posturing. 'I'm not going to stand around and watch you treat him like a mug.'

'Spirit.' The modern day Connie turned to the bright light, folding her arms tightly around her dressing gown. 'Let's just go, I'm not proud of this...' The Spirit ignored her.

'Well maybe I should just tell him to stop talking to you.' Connie watched herself say with a sly smile. 'Cause he'd do whatever I fucking asked him to do. Then he'll be none of your fucking concern.'

'I wouldn't put that past you.' Conjure answered, with a shake of the head. 'You're are a bad, bad person, you know that..?'

'Jealousy is a terrible thing,' Connie put in, as Conjure made to turn away. 'By the way... Good to see Blue Coast are missing you so much in your first season after leaving. Cruising through in the Champions' Cup, while you manage to Conjure up a bottom of the Globe Cup group finish for Brinemouth.' Connie looked away, as her past-self laughed loudly and drunkenly.

'Just go back to drinking, it's what you seem to do best.' The present-day Connie, in her dressing gown noted that Evelyn hadn't lowered herself to any inflammatory remarks about kids in glasshouses, given the campaign Polaris had had. She was a dignified person.

Connie had to turn away, unable to watch the next part, as her past-self turned and poured her beer down the back of her teammate's dress, drawing mixture of laughter and gasps of shock from the rest of partygoers.

'Fucksake Spirit..!'

Connie's sweary pleas were answered, as, when she reopened her eyes, she was back in her hotel room. The carpet still had that cold, almost damp feel, and the electric heater still provided it's warm, unnerving glow. The footballer still wasn't sure what she had just seen, but whatever it was, she was emotionally drained. Realising how the world saw you was a sobering experience for anyone, but for her it had been almost excruciating. Without even bothering to pull back the covers, Connie collapsed onto her bed a sobbed herself to sleep in a salty puddle to lukewarm tears.

Nova Anglicana 1–4 Schottia
Line-up: Gould, Hordern, Doig, Souter, Carlin, Conjure, Bánach (J.Ünterhausen), Coultan, Rexmont, Soria-Luna (Alexandersson), Curren (Renshaw)
Goals: Curren, Conjure, Alexandersson, Renshaw

Stats from the final qualifying match, to keep the records up to date.

Schottia 2-1 Tumbra @ Oreme Field
Line-up: Gould, Hordern, Doig, Souter, M.Ünterhausen, Conjure, Stenberg (Bánach), Coultan, Rexmont, Soria-Luna (Killanen), Martel-Burns (Curren)
Goals: Soria-Luna, Curren

Despite their strong run through qualifying, Schottia could ill afford to treat the match with Tumbra lightly. The Blue Lions had climbed to an impressive 21st in the World Rankings, and would have learned some valuable lessons from their first outing in the WC finals two years ago, where they picked up stunning win over then reigning champs, Vilita. Schottia put out their strongest starting eleven, to face a Tumbra side, which looked to operating a very similar tactical system. The Golden Eagles duo of Henry Butler and Robert Alexander were of course experienced competitors and players to watch. However, finishing just a point behind Farfadillis in qualifying group twelve, with a haul of 54 goals, Schottia's defenders were going to need to be on their toes as well.

Things couldn't have started much better for the Auks, as Evelyn Conjure's clever, outside of the boot pass sent Camile Soria Luna through on goal - the Marine Coast Star showing great composure to slide the ball home under Ryan Hughes. It a tumultuous first half, there were chances for both sides, as well as a couple of scorching challenges. Steven Rexmont came close to doubling Schottia's lead as his long range strike hit the side netting, while John Krajewski headed just wide for Tumbra from a corner. The Esportivans were coming into the match more and more as the ninety minutes wore on, and Martel-Burns was lucky to escape with just a yellow, following a cynical foul on John Rhys-Stevens. On the hour mark, Schottia were left to rue some missed chances however, as a fantastic solo effort from Krajewsk pulled Tumbra level. Lionel Mah was forced to ring in the changes, and as the match neared a close, his side were rewarded. After Dilon Bánach picked out Kim Coultan in space, the Crawford City star played a cutting through pass into the path of Lucy Curren, who slotted home to give the Tyranian side a hard fought victory.

Schottia 1-0 Eshan @ Bethelm Arena
Line-up: Gould, Watt, Doig, Souter (Paul), M.Ünterhausen, Conjure (J.Ünterhausen), Stenberg, Killanen, Rudden, Soria-Luna, Curren (Martel-Burns)
Goals: Martel-Burns

There was a chance - going into match day two - for Schottia to get qualification sewn up nice and early. The biggest problem was, however, Eshan stood in their way, and Alexio del Nieran's Eshan side were not going to make things easy. The Echani players had finished second in an extremely tricky qualifying group, only three points behind the much-fancied Chromatika. Eshan might have been ranked outside the world's top thirty, but there was no doubt that the AOCAF LIV runners-up represented stiff opposition.

Schottia made three changes to the side the beat Tumbra in the opening match. Eoin Killanen's physicality was preferred to Kim Coultan on the right side, while Lucy Curren's late winner earned the Hondo forward a starting role in the lone striker position. Larry Watt, coming in at right-back, took the captains arm band for this match. The front three of Marco van Ciavatinni, Anthony Baudelio, and Cornellians Mershawn Mercury caused Schottia no end of problems early on, until Watt and Paul Doig were able to get a handle on the width Eshan had up front. Schottia had chances of their own, and Line Stenberg was unlucky to see her shot cannon back off the upright, as the world number one's looked to make the crucial breakthrough. Schottia needed to be patient, as it took them until the eighty-fourth minute to get the goal they needed. Soria Luna's disguised pass found substitute, Corrine Martle-Burns, on the edge of the box, before the Polaris striker did well to outturn the powerful Darren Tran and finish into the bottom corner.

It was a tough start to the tournament, but Schottia had come though in one piece (if not a little busied), against two of the World's rising nations. Their hardest match of the cycle lay in wait next, however, as they face once of the best defences in the World in the form of South Covello.

[Alasdair I Frosticus]

From the Desk of Professor Von Madscientisto

Dear Holy Empire Football Association,

You are asking me two questions following Holy Empire's marvellous 3-2 victory over Damukuni, that is placing them in strong position to be reaching second round.

The first question is 'are intergalactic zombie space pirates cool?'

I am thinking that the answer to this question is the obvious. I am placing members of zombified team in cryogenic freezing between matches in order to minimise chances of bacterial decay having negative impact on ability of team to perform. This is technique I am developing with famous Ordinary Reality scientist Dr J. Hamonii, who is also being inspiration for new and exciting Tropics of Vilita feature film Doctor Zombie, which I am understanding is set on charming island of Turoki.

But I am doing the digressing.

It is true that cryogenic freezing technique is still having what I believe are called the 'pains of teething', as is witnessed by Holy Empire falling behind by two goals before the stirring comebacks in both World Cup matches so far as team is having problems with the defrosting from cryogenic state prior to match. But this is problem that I am working on, and am expecting to be seeing the results in the period known as 'soonish'. I am sure that you are agreeing that the slow starts are small price to pay for the actually having of team.

So yes, intergalactic zombie space pirates are very cool, at least between the matches.

The second question you are asking me is regarding claims of Turnip writer Ezekiel Starlight-Iii as to whether underground mod-god cultists are better than intergalactic zombie space pirates. I am not doing the commenting on written remarks of Mr Starlight-Iii (second part of hyphenated name is unusual for being all vowels, no? I was thinking that this was not typical Electrum naming convention), as these are based on qualitative claims that mod cultists are better than space zombies. I am being SCIENTIST!, and I am not commenting on petty qualitative issues, only objective points of fact that can be tested through scientific method.

This is why I am capturing underground mod-cultist, and engaging in live dissection of cultist and space zombie to study them side by side.

Do not be doing the worrying; they are both sewn back together again, and are as good as new (though I am admitting that I am misplacing mod-cultist spleen in moment of absent mindedness). It is true that I was not using the anaesthetic, but this was important to experiment.

From girly screams of pain issuing forth from mod-cultist during live dissection, I have objectively proven superiority of space zombie - latter is being totally impervious to pain, though this is not being a surprise given that zombie is being dead - and I shall soon be writing short monograph on subject that will be including many graphs and figures calculated to many decimal points, as both of latter are key evidence of superior scientific study.

I am offering to dissect Mr Starlight-Iii as well, and was even promising not to lose spleen, but he is strangely reluctant to go through with experiment, and is so far declining.

Sincerely Yours,

Professor Von Madscientisto

[South Covello]

South Covello Through To Knockout Stage

South Covello’s national soccer team has advanced to the knockout stage of the World Cup 79 with a game to spare following a 2-0 win over Tumbra.

Jim Yan scored a goal in the 23rd minute on a brilliant strike from 25 yards out, and the Rebel defense held strong for the rest of the game to keep the opponents off the board. Vinnie LaGuche added a clincher in the 89th minute when he fell behind the Tumbra defense to finish the Tumbrans off.

After the game, the players gathered at midfield celebrating and singing songs while doing classic celebrations such as roasting marshmallows, not over their burning opponents and flags as Gregist teams have done but over firewood. The fans sang, cheered, and applauded them and sent them on their way.

In the final game of the group stage, the Rebels will face Schottia, needing only a draw against the World Number One to top the group. A win would, of course, be even better.

Richard Hawkins, a superb goalkeeper, made seven saves in goal today. When a sports reporter for the National Free Beacon caught up with him after the game, he said

“This is the greatest moment in South Covello sporting history. We are now a free and democratic nation and we are going to the knockout stages of the World Cup with a chance to prove to the world that, to paraphrase a Turori saying, everything’s better with liberty. We, a free nation, are well on our way to hoisting the World Cup trophy. I believe in us. I believe we can do it. And however This ends, we’re already proud of ourselves for getting this far. Let’s hope this ends with a trophy, but we have nothing to be ashamed of. We have liberated our nation from the terrorist Gregists, and now we have succeeded on the field as well. What a year.”

Of course, the Schottia match will be the Rebels’ most challenging one yet, but they’re through regardless and have nothing to lose, so we’ll see how aggressively they play. It should be a fun game to watch.

[Turori]

...Especially Turori's World Cup Opponents...

Turori's National Cocoabo Squad [0] Cosumar [2]

Cosumar is better with Cocoa-bo...

It was only fitting that Cosumar would be the first opponent for the Cocoabo Squad in their return to the World Cup Finals. Cocoabo and Cosumar go together almost as well as Elves in Starblaydi... Intergalactic Zombie Space Pirates on the Island of Turo... Eastfield Lodge in the World Cup Fin... Rejistania and playing offensive tacti... ok well Cocoabo and Cosumar go together just as much as they don't. After being groomed at the Cocoabo Park as part of the Cocoabo Enrichment & Enhancement Program (CEEP), the unified Cocoabo Squad got their first ever taste of international competition in the 69th Cup of Harmony in none other than Cosumar. The proximity to the Cocoabo Forest - Cosumar also being located in Atlantian Oceania - was a key factor in making things happen.

The Cocoabo put up shop on a temporary swath of land dubbed 'Cocoabo Ranch' just outside Ramusok and the effect was glorious. The Cocoabo were for real! They won their opening group stage match against Juvencus. Then, followed by a pair of draws against Brigantii and Timokosan the Cocoabo had advanced to the knockout round.

Then the unthinkable happened. One Cocoabo - a defensive player Cocoabo #58 - got off the ranch. Social media in Cosumar was abuzz. At first, legitimate sightings of Cocoabo #58 wandering Ramusok began to appear. Then, Cocoabo #58 became memefied and doctored images of the wayward Cocoabo supposedly sighted in Cosumar began to appear - from the mundane to the sometimes obscene, with one particular doctored image of Cocoabo #58 and a Vloo particularly disturbing. The following day, when the draw for the Cup of Harmony knockout rounds was announced, the Turori National Team were stunned to find that despite contesting the Group Stage in Cosumar, the were being shipped off to Ethane for the knockout rounds! Had Cocoabo #58's night out on the town gotten the Cocoabo Squad kicked out of Ramusok?

While the Cocoabo regrouped upon their arival in Ethane and advanced to the tournament semi-finals, they were ultimately undone by a lack of preparation when they were eliminated by Qasden in a semi-final round penalty shootout. Conspiracy theorists have since reported that the Cocoabo were due to have a special CEEP training session in penalty kicks at the Cocoabo Ranch between the end of the Group Stage and the Knockout Rounds but that that session was cancelled when the Cocoabo had to re-locate to Ethane.

Fast forward to the next cycle where the Cocoabo were pitted against the Citizens for a chance to represent Turori in the World Cup Finals which were awarded to none other than Cosumar! It was perhaps an opportunity for the Cocoabo to return to a familiar environment but would they even be welcomed after he Hulabaloo caused by Cocoabo #58?

The point as mooted when the Citizen Squad bested the Cocoabo Squad in World Cup 78 Qualifying by a 20-17 scoreline to earn the right to represent the Turori National Team in Cosumar and Bonesea. However, when the Turorian's dropped their first two matches, two Cocoabo - Goalkeeper Cocoabo #85 and midfielder Cocoabo #46 were drafted in to make the the squad against Eura in the Turorian's final match. While Cocoabo #85 was actually on the Turorian roster as the third goalkeeper, Cococabo #46 was not and Turorian officials unofficially given the name "Mirana Gotuai" and an identification to Cocoabo #46 to controversially convince tournament officials that Cocoabo #46 was part of the roster with the real Mirana Gotuai having been sent home prior to MD1 with an injury.

The result was a victory for Turori, and only made the cries for Cocoabo that much louder. With their besting of the Citizen Squad during the World Cup 79 Qualifying Campaign, the Cocoabo finally had their shot. The World Cup Finals were here and the full Cocoabo Squad was in attendance.

Their first opponent? Cosumar.

While the value of sentiment in the build up to the match was high, there was presumably a big difference between playing in Cosumar, and playing against Cosumar on foreign soil. Just getting to Drawkland was a logistical hurdle for the Cocoabo who had only ever left Atlantian Oceania once before when they contested the Olympic Games in Vekaiyu. By the time the arrived they were tired, rumors are their intergalactic transporter had an encounter with Zombie Space Pirates on the way to the planet Sonnel but luckily there were representatives from Tropicorp on board who were able to speak to the developments being made by Dr. vonMadscientisto and Dr. J Hamonii back in Atlantian Oceania in aiding the Intergalactic Zombie Space Pirate population and the threat was mitigated. No Turori National Team official was willing to confirm the story, however.

Intergalactic encounters aside, the journey was taxing for the Cocoabo and it cetainly showed in their opener against Cosumar as they were run off the park with a 0-2 defeat and a heartily disappointing start to their World Cup campaign.

---

Cocoabo Squad v. Cosumar:
Pos :: Identification  : Home
GK  :: ( Cocoabo #86 ) : Cocoabo Forest
DEF :: ( Cocoabo #58 ) : Cocoabo Forest
DEF :: ( Cocoabo #57 ) : Cocoabo Forest
DEF :: ( Cocoabo #53 ) : Cocoabo Forest >> 45' ( Cocoabo #59 )
MID :: ( Cocoabo #61 ) : Cocoabo Forest 
MID :: ( Cocoabo #64 ) : Cocoabo Forest >> 66' ( Cocoabo #60 )
MID :: ( Cocoabo #62 ) : Cocoabo Forest 
MID :: ( Cocoabo #62 ) : Cocoabo Forest
AMC :: ( Cocoabo #72 ) : Cocoabo Forest
FOR :: ( Cocoabo #91 ) : Cocoabo Forest
FOR :: ( Cocoabo #99 ) : Cocoabo Forest >> 62' ( Cocoabo #94 )

---

Turori's National Cocoabo Squad [1] Drawkland [1]

Drawkland is better with Cocoa-bo...

Naturally the Cocoabo Squad, the trainers and all the Turori National Team staff were looking to put the 0-2 defeat to Cosumar behind them as quickly as possible. Unfortunately their next opponents were none other than the host nation itself, Drawkland.

The Drawkians were making their third appearance in the World Cup Finals and many believed that this Kick Corps squad was the best one yet. After going 0-1-2 in their debut appearance in World Cup 77, Drawkland returned to World Cup 78 in Cosumar and Bonesea. After a defeat on the opening matchday to Eura, Drawklands World Cup 78 Matchday 2 opponent was none other than Turori. It should have been an easy victory for the Citizen Squad against the groups bottom side. Instead, however, it was the Kick Corps who rolled away with the 1-0 result - the first ever World Cup finals victory for Drawkland and an embarrassment for the Citizen Squad and the Turori National Team that re-ignited doubts about their future in representing Turori - once again re-opening the debate and signalling a Citizen v. Cocoabo rematch during World Cup 79 Qualifying which, of course, was won this time by the Cocoabo.

With the Cocoabo making the long trek to Drawkland, they certainly weren't going to arrive empty handed and it would come as no surprise when their cargo freighter was unloaded and included a mass of supplies to stock pop-up Cocoa-bo locations inside the host country. It was a tricky environment for the Cocoa-bo marketers, however. This time, they weren't just bringing Cocoa-bo into the host country, but they were attempting to impress on the home fans the image and likeness of the very creature that their national team would be playing against - once again - on Matchday 2.

After recording their second ever World Cup victory on the opening matchday against Cassadaigua, the local fans were out in full force to support Drawkland against the Cocoabo. While some enjoyed the novelty of dining at a pop-up Cocoa-bo location ahead of the match - particularly foreigners - many natives engaged in the #NoCocoa-bo movement to avoid the establishment for fear of jinxing or supporting their Matchday 2 foes.

Once the match began, however, it was all about the action on the pitch and ultimately it was a well played game for both sides. The Cocoa-bo got on the board early after a nice move on the wings and a ball into the box that was only partially cleared into the path of Cocoabo #65 who fired home the Turori National Teams first goal of the World Cup 79 Finals.

It was all going swimmingly for the Flock until 10 minutes from full time when goalkeeper Cocoabo #85 - making the start in place of Cocoabo #86 who played against Cosumar - was sent off for clipping the heel of the pacey Drawkian substitute Aurora Jewel who had raced around Cocoabo #53 inside the box. The resulting penalty kick was slotted home past Cocoabo #87 by Katie Madison much to the delight of the home fans. The match would end 1-1 and both sides would get a much needed point in the table though the Cocoabo Squad certainly had the most work to do on the final matchday.

---

Cocoabo Squad v. Drawkland:
Pos :: Identification  : Home
GK  :: ( Cocoabo #85 ) : Cocoabo Forest [RED CARD 80']
DEF :: ( Cocoabo #58 ) : Cocoabo Forest >> 45' ( Cocoabo #60 ) >> 80' ( Cocoabo #87 )
DEF :: ( Cocoabo #57 ) : Cocoabo Forest
DEF :: ( Cocoabo #53 ) : Cocoabo Forest >> 45' ( Cocoabo #59 )
MID :: ( Cocoabo #61 ) : Cocoabo Forest 
MID :: ( Cocoabo #64 ) : Cocoabo Forest 
MID :: ( Cocoabo #62 ) : Cocoabo Forest 
MID :: ( Cocoabo #65 ) : Cocoabo Forest [GOAL! 22']
AMC :: ( Cocoabo #72 ) : Cocoabo Forest
FOR :: ( Cocoabo #91 ) : Cocoabo Forest
FOR :: ( Cocoabo #99 ) : Cocoabo Forest

---

While the draw with the host nation was certainly a decent result for the Cocoabo Squad it also put them into a rather large hole that they would have to dig out of on the third and final matchday if they would stand a chance of advancing to the knockout rounds.

Worse off, the Cocoabo Squad would not be able to dig out of the hole in their own. In addition to defeating Cassadaigua on the final matchday - and in addition to having to do so by three goals or more the Cocoabo Squad would also have to have help.

Even worse than that, the help that the Cocoabo Squad would need in order to advance would have to come from either Cosumar or the hosts Drawkland. That is, the two teams that play each other on the final matchday knowing that a goalless draw - or any tied result, would be enough to send both sides through to the Round of 16 knockout stage regardless of the result between Turori and Cassadaigua.

It seemed like a lose-lose scenario for the Turori National Team. However, the Cocoabo Squad would have to get things done against Cassadaigua and hope that something offset the status quo in the other match. Perhaps a mistimed tackle that reduces one side to ten players, giving the other side confidence. Perhaps a moment of individual brilliance from a single player who was thinking more about making a name for themselves by scoring a goal at the World Cup Finals instead of putting the progression of their team first and foremost. The scenarios existed for the Turori National Team to make the Round of 16 - they just weren't particularly likely. Whats certain is that if the Cocoabo Squad don't advance to the Knockout Rounds, the debate will be re-ignited once again between the Cocoabo Squad and the Citizen Squad - and another head to head competition was likely during World Cup 80 Qualifications.

[Abanhfleft]

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WORLD CUP 79: FREE REPUBLICS VS ABANHFLEFT
By Malik Qazizadah


Abanhfleft's Kareem Dagen celebrates his goal against the Free Republics. (Courtesy of Crescent News Network Sports Channel/Andros Tasasa)

CENIAL, CENI - Abanhfleft started off their World Cup 79 campaign with a resounding win over a lackluster Free Republics, which has gone ahead with deploying the same young team that had won them qualification to the World Cup finals.

The Republicans were unprepared to deal with the sheer pace of Kareem Dagen and, while they did their best to contain him, he was still too much of a threat and he scored Abanhfleft's first goal of their World Cup 79 campaign with a sublime yet strong strike right in front of goal and the goalkeeper.

The Free Republics did have a rare chance to equalize courtesy of their young 14-year-old striker Love Holm, but Holm's shot was weak and easily parried away by Carlos Cohen.

Republican left back Vaclav Urbanek was lucky to escape with only a booking following a rash tackle on Vitaly Zima but the resulting free kick, while in a good spot for Abanhfleft, came to waste with Andrea Marilungo shooting the ball directly at the opposing goalkeeper.

In the second half, Abanhfleft doubled their advantage with another low-key effort from Vitaly Zima, who only needed to stroke the ball past the legs of a Republican defender to score his first ever World Cup goal for Abanhfleft.

The Free Republics were simply poor in this game, and Abanhfleft were able to sit back and absorb pressure from their opponents, although their defense was almost opened up with a clever long ball to Kalervo Peltola, and only a last-second tackle from Ainsley Gibson prevented what could have been a first goal for the Republicans in this contest.

This wasn't to mean that the Fleftics were content with their two-goal lead, however. Substitute Tristan Lee could have and should have netted the third and truly decisive goal of the game from Andrea Marilungo's corner; instead, he headed right into the crossbar and over the net.


Abanhfleft national team manager Ranulph Bustamante: Always good to start the World Cup with a win

Abanhfleft national team manager Ranulph Bustamante: "I mean, it's always good to start off the World Cup with a win, even if it is against a team of very young and dare I say not too experienced players. But it's still the Free Republics, and even though they may not be performing well now, who's to say that they won't set the world on fire when we meet them again? That's the good thing about these games of football. The poor little guy who can't seem to find his two feet in his teens could very well become world class, a world beater, once he gets to his twenties. But I digress. It's a good game of football from the lads nonetheless."

On Bonesea, their next opponent: "You plan and prepare for everything that comes your way, and we have extensive experience playing with Bonesea. Heck, even some of their players are playing in our league, so we know how they play and they know how we play. Let's see what happens next."

FREE REPUBLICS 0 - 2 ABANHFLEFT
                     DAGEN (16')
                     V. ZIMA (47')

ABANHFLEFT
GK: 1 Cohen
RB: 2 Afolayan (Popov - 85')
RCB: 4 L. Edwards
LCB: 5 Gibson █
LB: 3 Ogigayatsu
RM: 6 Pearson
CM: 8 Zolnerov
LM: 7 Marilungo █
CAM: 10 R. Edwards (El Salah █ - 55')
CF: 11 V. Zima (Lee - 68')
CF: 9 Dagen

FREE REPUBLICS
GK: 1 Roivas
RB: 2 Schroder (Godina - 90')
CB: 3 Josef
LB: 4 Urbanek █
RM: 7 Arsanukayev (Sundberg - 72')
CDM: 5 Izmailov
LM: 6 Eldarkhanov
CAM: 8 Smith
ST: 9 Lydsson (Perkovic - 69')
ST: 10 Holm
ST: 11 Peltola █

MATCH STATISTICS
Possession
Free Republics: 49%
Abanhfleft: 51%
Shots
Free Republics: 11 (5 on target)
Abanhfleft: 12 (6 on target)
Corners
Free Republics: 5
Abanhfleft: 7
Fouls
Free Republics: 23
Abanhfleft: 20

[Starblaydia]

World Cup 78 Part One: Takeaway | Two: Duchess | Three: Fidget | Four: Torque | Five: Omen | Six: Leap | Seven: Screams | Eight: Iota | Nine: Death | Ten: Wrong | Eleven: Happy | Twelve: Together | Thirteen: Sweat | Fourteen: Taken | Di Bradini Cup 41 Part Fifteen: Stunned | World Cup 79: Part Sixteen: Fame | Seventeen: Weird | Eighteen: Sheep | Nineteen: Grave

Even with his home nation on the verge of making it to the next round - barring a fairly specific set of circumstances that would require Nephara to defeat the reigning World Champions while already-eliminated Ethane defeated the unbeaten Starblaydi side by an equal or larger scoreline - Simeone was not feeling himself. It wasn't his innate objection to the zombie part of the zombie space pirates - without the whole shambling brain-eating thing the space pirates themselves were pretty cool. He'd even been a space captain for a fairly short trip thanks to the Pantochronometer and that had been great fun - he'd wondered at the time if he could have stayed in that body a little longer and taken his ship rogue to plunder the seven... star systems, maybe? It had been only the briefest of thoughts but intergalactic pirate captain appealed to a certain part of Simeone.

No, even with The Holy Empire squad's all-but-certainty of being in the knockout phase, Simeone just felt off. Dacil Taniquentar's warning that some sort of darkness to envelop Starblaydia and by implication the entire world was playing on his mind. Doubly so the fact that Taniquentar believed that Simeone was the man to stop it. Sure, along with either Jose Miguel or Juan Tzimices and Ug-Ug, he'd managed to save the Multiverse at least once, but this seemed like it was all on him. He stared purposefully at the list of Starblaydia's World Cup campaign so far. A mostly solid defence, with ten clean sheets in twenty games, but some hugely high scoring affairs with six, seven, eight and eleven goals being flung back and forth. It was then that the names suddenly jumped out at him.

Electrum, World Cup 78 Champions.

Vilita, World Cup 77 Champions.

Nephara, World Cup 74 Champions.

Not counting the Unified Sunrise Isles, as they didn't appear to exist any more, Starblaydia had played the three most recent World Champions during this campaign. Not one of them had managed to beat Ázëwyn Fëanáro's side. Having just held Electrum to a goalless draw and beaten Nephara in the Group stage with Pawel Zapotowski's penalty, they'd also drawn 3-3 and 4-4 with Vilita during the Qualifiers. World-frickin'-Champions, and all recent champions, too. It seemed like Ázëwyn really did have something of a magic touch as a manager. After qualifying - somehow against all the odds - four years previously, this time was still unlikely but much less of a struggle, and they'd already picked up four points this time around compared to the single solitary point and absolutely zero goals they'd managed last time out. Now the Second Round was in sight, as four points is usually enough to make it barring some odd group results, and Starblaydia were even capable of topping this group should Electrum and Nephara fight out a draw between them as the team in white and purple could conceivably beat the eliminated Ethane, on paper the third-best team in the group, but only by a tiny margin from Nephara.

It was almost like a new dawn had risen on Starblaydi football, and they were only just realising that the sun was shining directly in their faces.

But what if the next dawn never came? Simeone remembered the old line about hope being like the sun, but this chilled him to the bone. The Gravelord - what sort of a nickname was that? - had warned him of the impending darkness but couldn't give any names, or locations, or ways to stop it, or anything. Bloody elves, he thought, too busy being all weird and mysterious to actually get anything done. That wasn't fair, of course, as he'd just been thinking about how one specific Elf had been doing nothing but actively inspiring and guiding the Starblaydia national football team to the greatness of glories past. But Ázëwyn was... she was just different. Special.

Simeone tried to focus on what sorts of danger might be at hand. He figured maybe crazy international leaders would be the first option. The first place to look was obviously Starblaydia itself but, no, Korra Starblayde had just enacted laws that banned torture and provided a second upper chamber for the Sjarondai, Starblaydia's Parliament. She was protecting the environment, too, so how could any of this be bad from the young woman who ruled the land? Nothing obvious was happening on a regional level, either, and even places that were known to be crazy like Gregoryisgodistan were phasing out of existence into normal free states. There simply wasn't any obvious evil in the world that he could see at present. But maybe that was the whole point, that it couldn't be seen? And even then, how could he fight it if he didn't even know what it was? There was no way of gathering allies in this sort of situation, and even then who would he try and gather?

Bloody Elves. Bloody Gravelord.

[Mriin]

"Well," Aldo broke the locker room silence, "that was miserable."

"You're telling me," muttered Solara, tending to a phantom pain in her left hamstring.

Don, raking his claws over a miniature portable zen rock garden, sighed. "Unfortunately, it was as I predicted. It all came down to how superior their athleticism was, and the answer was very."

"Well, it kind of makes sense," Jenna started, drawing a couple of irate glances. "They're literally playing with their lives on the line. Well, potentially. They didn't get run out after losing last cycle, but we all know the Guayabalese have a checkered past--you'd train insanely hard when the repercussions were that severe."

Joren nodded, getting a couple of glares himself. "Nevermind that they're scouted much younger and trained longer, through a well-established system. We can have excellent strategies and fancy plays, but when they're literally running circles around us that takes a lot of our agency away. I'm a hundred percent sure that's something we could overcome, but not in the span of ninety minutes."

"It's no matter," Don rumbled, "what's done is done. If we put it together and send the Imperials packing we're through all the same." Tiebreakers will be a pain if Damukuni don't claim a single point, but they don't need to be thinking about that.

[Vilita]

You're traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind. A journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination. That's the signpost up ahead - your next stop, the Wormhole!"

Starzonia

Starblaydia are Five Time World Cup Champions. Valanora are five time world champions The two nations are almost always mentioned in the same breath - the breath of a Goat. The Greatest of All Time. While the Starblaydi had the seemingly endless line of the Di Bradini bloodline at the heart of their triumphs, the Vanorians had the Eternal Empire and a seemingly endless supply of Elvish Talent.

But, before Starblaydia's rise to power, there was another Atlantian Oceania nation that seemed on the quick path to the greatest team of the multiverse: Sarzonia.

While Sarzonia were not the first Atlantian Oceania team to win the World Cup, they were the first dominant force from what would become the most accomplished sporting region of all time. Sarzonia's win in the World Cup 22 Final was the first of three consecutive World Cup's that saw the Sarzo's Squad finish in the top 3 places of the World Cup, becoming the first Atlantian Oceania nation to appear in two World Cup Finals when they were defeated in the World Cup 24 final by Liverpool England and earning third place honors between the two competitions during World Cup 23 after a defeat in the Semi-Final to Rejistania. The three straight top 3 finishes in the World Cup was the second best three-cup haul in the history of the competition to that point, bested only by Rejistania's 3-1-1 placement between World Cups 16-18. Sarzonia shot to the top of the World Rankings and established themselves as the Greatest of the Moment. Then World Cup 25 happened.

Sarzonia made their fourth consecutive World Cup Semi-Finals. The train seemed unstoppable. But for the second time in 3 cups, they lost to Rejistania in the Semi-Finals. The charm wore out in the Third Place playoff as they lost to Squornshelous and their string of consecutive Top 3 Finishes was over. In the final, Rejistania were looking to establish themselves as best in the multiverse, but there was a new contender: Starblaydia. The World Cup 20 hosts had quietly risen and made their first World Cup Final. They took down Siji Rej's side and won the World Cup. And the rest is history. Sarzonia would never challenge for the World Cup again, while Starblaydia would go on to win 5 World Cups.

Their fates both separate and intertwined, one wonders what might have happened in another dimension where Sarzonia was formed not along the Crytalakere Channel - ultimately succuming to rising waterlevels and washed away as a mere underwater hazard for passing ships - and instead formed along Lake Bekk in Calania - the landmass of Champions.

The most interesting dimension is, perhaps, the one where not only did the Sarzonian establish themselves on Lake Bekk, but through cross-population and government treaties, formed a single city state with the inhabitants of the North-Eastern Lake, a unified nation known as Starzonia. In this dimension, the combined sporting power would have been unbeatable - even by Rejistania. Winning World Cup 22, 23, 24 and 25 established Starzonia as the Greatest of All Time at a time when there was barely enough Time in existence to declare a Greatest. From their, the legacy would only get stronger - at least until a new force... An Elvish force... would come along.

Sabine & Caddonia

Valanora are arguably one of the most successful nations in the history of the World Cup. Ok, probably not much of an argument. But what is the reason for their success? Some argue that the Vanorians have a distinct advantage over the competition: Their elvishness. Originally entered as the Elves Security Forces, the Eternal Empire of Valanora grew into prominence in Atlantian Oceania and took over the reigns from Starblaydia as the most dominant force in the sporting multiverse.

While other nations would be forced to cycle players through at the peak of their athletic prowess every other World Cup, the Vanorians marched forth behind the seemingly ageless Elves, legendary players such as Espy va Drake surviving for generations and leading the Eternal Empire to championship after championship.

Is there, however, a dimension with which the Elves never rose to prominence? Or where which they moved on and left a less eternal presence in their wake? Lets explore the Wormhole.

There is a dimension, through time and space, where which a little spec of cosmic dust a million miles away may have changed the trajectory of a wayward asteroid that narrowly missed the subcontinent of Arrosia. There exists also another dimension where the demise of the Eternal Empire in Atlantian Oceania was not due to a wayward asteroid, but one of choice. One where Elves of all shapes, sizes and colors from above ground and the undercities rose up and marched to Mount Sumarja, passing through a portal into the Celestial Realm and leaving the past behind. Some Elves abroad were left out of the migration as well as some younger Elves who may not have remembered or experienced life outside their Arrosian stronghold who chose to stay behind.

In both dimensional scenarios, only a small group of Elves remained. The Elves were now outnumbered by humanity and, confused and with an uncertain future, would leave Raynor City behind for greener pastures in a new state, Sabine and Caddonia.

In this dimension, the time of Elves in Valanora had come to an end and those remaining had teamed up with Humanity to live a new life in Sabine and Caddonia, never knowing if the Elves would ever return. As far as the World Cup was concerned? In the realm of mortals, Sabine and Caddonia would struggle to adapt but ultimately would thrive when adopting a new system of training and preparation left behind by a handful of Elves that had missed the portal migration.