World Cup 89 - Signups Thread (Closed)

[Graintfjall]

Decided I will no longer be paying taxes. What are they gonna do, tax me more? Go ahead.

I wont pay those either

Oh im going to prison?

The one paid for by my tax dollars?

Sorry. Didn't pay em. Now there is no prison.

I am at least 3 steps ahead of the government at all times.

I will sign up for the World Cup, though, and confirm Montaña Verde as my puppet.

[Ochre Islands]

In, with a BoF entry please.

[Montana Verde]

We sign up, puppet of Græntfjall.

[Eura]

Eura stronk

[Commonwealth of Baker Park]

We'll do it live!

[The Licentian Isles]

Cyan-and-Gold!

(and pre-confirming Kaldtfjell as my puppet)

[Kaldtfjell]

Cyan-and-Gold!

(and pre-confirming Kaldtfjell as my puppet)

We are the puppet, in for WC and BoF.

[Euran Oceania Territories]

Eura stronk

Euran Oceania Territories also stronk, signing up as a puppet

[Eura]

Eura stronk

Euran Oceania Territories also stronk, signing up as a puppet

STRONK CONFIRMED

[Zwangzug]

Yes plz.

[Savigliane]

in, pre-confirming Yuezhou (dad said it was my turn to be the main nation)

[Yue Zhou]

in, pre-confirming Yuezhou (dad said it was my turn to be the main nation)

^

[Sylestone]

Fuck yes

[Atheara]

Atheara returns for WC89
Atheara is cool today, too!

(Oh yeah also pre-confirming Pascafia, if im allowed obviously.)
(And obviously put Pascafia for both BoF and WC.)

[Pascafia]

Atheara returns for WC89
Atheara is cool today, too!

(Oh yeah also pre-confirming Pascafia, if im allowed obviously.)

Now THIS^ is damn good.

[Cassadaigua]

Eighty Nine will be fine.

[Eastfield Lodge]

Oh, alright then.

[Cabo Azure]

In and for the BoF

[Krytenia]

EBWK. We're in.

[Nephara]

April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee
With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,
And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten,
And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.
Bin gar keine Russin, stamm’ aus Litauen, echt deutsch.
And when we were children, staying at the arch-duke’s,
My cousin’s, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.

What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
There is shadow under this red rock,
(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.
Frisch weht der Wind
Der Heimat zu
Mein Irisch Kind,
Wo weilest du?
“You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;
“They called me the hyacinth girl.”
—Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,
Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither
Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,
Looking into the heart of light, the silence.
Oed’ und leer das Meer.

Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante,
Had a bad cold, nevertheless
Is known to be the wisest woman in Europe,
With a wicked pack of cards. Here, said she,
Is your card, the drowned Phoenician Sailor,
(Those are pearls that were his eyes. Look!)
Here is Belladonna, the Lady of the Rocks,
The lady of situations.
Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel,
And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card,
Which is blank, is something he carries on his back,
Which I am forbidden to see. I do not find
The Hanged Man. Fear death by water.
I see crowds of people, walking round in a ring.
Thank you. If you see dear Mrs. Equitone,
Tell her I bring the horoscope myself:
One must be so careful these days.

Unreal City,
Under the brown fog of a winter dawn,
A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many,
I had not thought death had undone so many.
Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled,
And each man fixed his eyes before his feet.
Flowed up the hill and down King William Street,
To where Saint Mary Woolnoth kept the hours
With a dead sound on the final stroke of nine.
There I saw one I knew, and stopped him, crying: “Stetson!
“You who were with me in the ships at Mylae!
“That corpse you planted last year in your garden,
“Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?
“Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed?
“Oh keep the Dog far hence, that’s friend to men,
“Or with his nails he’ll dig it up again!
“You! hypocrite lecteur!—mon semblable,—mon frère!”

[Brenecia]

—mon frère!”

After the torchlight red on sweaty faces
After the frosty silence in the gardens
After the agony in stony places
The shouting and the crying
Prison and palace and reverberation
Of thunder of spring over distant mountains
He who was living is now dead
We who were living are now dying
With a little patience

Here is no water but only rock
Rock and no water and the sandy road
The road winding above among the mountains
Which are mountains of rock without water
If there were water we should stop and drink
Amongst the rock one cannot stop or think
Sweat is dry and feet are in the sand
If there were only water amongst the rock
Dead mountain mouth of carious teeth that cannot spit
Here one can neither stand nor lie nor sit
There is not even silence in the mountains
But dry sterile thunder without rain
There is not even solitude in the mountains
But red sullen faces sneer and snarl
From doors of mudcracked houses
If there were water
And no rock
If there were rock
And also water
And water
A spring
A pool among the rock
If there were the sound of water only
Not the cicada
And dry grass singing
But sound of water over a rock
Where the hermit-thrush sings in the pine trees
Drip drop drip drop drop drop drop
But there is no water

Who is the third who walks always beside you?
When I count, there are only you and I together
But when I look ahead up the white road
There is always another one walking beside you
Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded
I do not know whether a man or a woman
—But who is that on the other side of you?

What is that sound high in the air
Murmur of maternal lamentation
Who are those hooded hordes swarming
Over endless plains, stumbling in cracked earth
Ringed by the flat horizon only
What is the city over the mountains
Cracks and reforms and bursts in the violet air
Falling towers
Corvistone Bastion Cathair
Herzegovina Raynor
Unreal

[Vikanias]

I’m new so it’s best to sign up for the BoF, and ofc the WC

[Lathamford]

WC - Yes
BoF - Yes

[Ranoria]

In

[Valanora]

I think six is an imaginary number