World Cup 89 - Roleplay Thread

[Twicetagram and JYPe]

Home >> International >> World Cup

---

Goalless stalemates across Group C; Druuga applauds team for "strong united showing"

By Andrei Yasovich

Despite facing Kelssek for the third time in a short period of time, the Lieutenants failed to hit the back of the net against them in a hard fought game where both sides showed just why they qualified for the World Cup.

Kelssek started on a bright note, with Hartpoach nearly scoring the opening goal for them in the fifth minute, only for Stavii to comfortably catch the ball. Despite a defensive formation for the match, Twicetagria seemed to play a slightly more offensive play-style this time. The Lieutenants managed to catch the Voyagers with quick counterattacks, although Hardan's efforts were brilliantly denied by St-Gerlais.

Kelssek had a load of other chances, with Lapierre hitting the woodwork with a free kick. Later in the match, the Voyagers dominated possession as Twicetagria failed to infiltrate their defense or snatch the ball from them. Late in the match however, Kelssek were making another offensive when Tyga tackled Lafrenière and got away with the ball, albeit a bit uncleanly. The fallen appealed for a free kick, which was denied. After the successful tackle, the Lieutenants embarked on a quick counter, and Aidor found the netting, but the goal was swiftly ruled offside.

In the last minutes of the match Kelssek seemed like they were going to score a last gasp goal, but Wylten's effort was cleared by Endavii.

After the match, the players were clearly physically exhausted after the mentally draining match. Stavii, the man of the match voted by the Twicetagrien fans, was still gasping for breath even during the press conference.

"It was a well fought match of course... they [Kelssek] attacked the goal a lot, but thankfully we stopped them from scoring," Stavii said, "We should have been a bit more brave upfront but I guess this is the result we were hoping."

Druuga was very impressed by the Lieutenants' efforts in the match, which he lauded as persevering and inspiring.

"Of course we were outplayed this time round, but the lads did really well to group together and defend as a unit. Of course this is how we should be playing, especially in the World Cup," he quipped, "You can't deny the fact that this performance was one of their best yet, and should give them enough motivation for the next match.

Twicetagria play The Holy Empire, the defending champions, next. They were held to a goalless draw by returning Vdara.

[South Newlandia]

Welcome everyone to the live broadcast of the opening match of World Cup 89! We’re looking ahead to a great tournament here, as always, on South Newlandia One. I’m your broadcaster, Brandon van Simonsen, and we’re here for the very first ever match to be played in this stadium. The Stadium of Friendship, 41.093 seats, beautifully built by the brilliant Valentian architects, the new crown jewel of South Newlandian stadiums. We’re sold out tonight, this may very well be the biggest football game the Elephants play in their history, hosting the opening game of WC89 on home soil. The guests are a familiar foe, region-mates Brenecia.

We’ve seen this battle in the World Cup twice before, and both times, it ended well for the Elephants. Already eliminated in World Cup 87, they won their so far only WC finals game against the Patriots, and we saw a 0-0 draw to open World Cup 88. Now, we’re in South Newlandia, the weather is good, the fans are ready, and we’re going to watch the teams enter. We have the Patriots, coached by Sienna Fallon, and the Elephants, still coached by the only man who ever had that job, Robert Wolverine.

We’re ready to kick off; Brenecia has won the coin toss and has elected to give South Newlandia the ball first. The Patriots in white, South Newlandia in yellow and green, and Brandon Irving will have the first touch. Let’s go!

Byrne on the left side, in control of the ball, passes it over to Schofield who will cross midfield, South Newlandia is slow getting back, ball goes back to Garrard, there’s a pass into the front to White, Trischuk is coming out of the box, and the pass proves to be just a bit too far forward, Trischuk clears it, nifty piece of goalkeeping by the South Newlandian captain.

It’s Mohamed with the ball, gives it up front to Levy, nice pass to Green who’s got some room on that left side, cuts in, and he’s fouled by Bravender, and Green screams in agony, holding his knee, which has been through plenty already in the last few years. Physio’s are coming out, it isn’t sure whether Green can go on, but the referee has given Bravender a yellow card and also spotted the foul inside the penalty box. I’m not so sure about that one, they’re going to review it, we’re so far hoping that Green is alright.

It’s a penalty! They’ve got the foul inside the box, and the Elephants will have a prime opportunity to take the lead here in the 36th! Green, still hobbling a bit, looks like he can play on, will watch the veteran, 37-year-old, Simon McCabe go for the penalty kick. This could be only the 4th goal in South Newlandian World Cup history. He’ll have to get past Scathach Wright, the goalkeeper of the famed Raynor City United, only five years younger than McCabe. McCabe, takes a short start-up, and will kick it, it’s saved! Rebounded, McCabe scores! MCCABE SCORES, THE ELEPHANTS ARE UP! 1-0! Wright had read McCabe correctly, diving to her right, but could only deflect the kick back into the feet of McCabe, who wouldn’t miss such a great chance on an empty goal! Simon McCabe scores his first career World Cup goal, and the Elephants lead!

Wright has the ball, scanning, and he’s gonna kick it deep into the field. Header, to White, who outplays Gurero here and make it look easy, and a pass into the front! Carpenter will be one-on-one with Trischuk, he’s coming out of the box, chipped, and it’s in. Brenecia equalizes, beautiful play by the Patriots, and we’re all square here in Elephant Valley just before the half.

Halftimes’ over, and the teams are coming back into the stadium. Both managers elect to keep their starting eleven in the game, the Elephant can certainly be happier with the first half. A draw tonight would put them into great position with the two supposedly easier assignments coming up. Brenecia, meanwhile, is probably looking to get three points in this matchup, the World number 16 is definitely looking to win this group.

Brenecia with possession, on the left side, where they like to attack tonight, it’s again Byrne, who’s got some room, now here’s Barker, Byrne crosses to Carpenter, and there’s a pass into the box, Anderson is just barely able to get the tip of his foot on the ball to send it out for a corner. Good defensive work so far by the team, despite the pre-tournament criticism, this defense proves to have the experience to mostly neutralize the Brenecian attack thus far.

Here’s the corner by Carpenter, ball is headed to Trischuk, he makes a quick throw out to Roy. The Elephants look to counter-attack, Young, somehow gets by Schofield, Young’s got room, running up the field, three on three, Young cuts to Levy, he shoots, and GOAL! GOOOOAAAL! THE ELEPHANTS MAKE IT 2-1! LEVY WITH A BRILLIANT SHOT INTO THE TOP CORNER! Wright once again almost had the save, but Levy, in his national team debut, scores the 2-1 to put the Elephants back on top! Unbelievable!

Kaylem Knight, who just got into the game minutes ago, with the ball on the right side, he’s got loads of space, no one there, he crosses into the box, Leadbetter can’t reach it, McCabe with a header, saved by Wright, Cohen- goal! GOAL! BJORN COHEN SCORES ON THE RECOUND! 3-1 ELEPHANTS! Once again, Wright is unlucky between the posts, she couldn’t secure the header, and it fell right into the substitutes’ lap. Cohen, against the country he plays in, taps it in to make it 3-1 Elephants with just a few minutes to play! The third lucky goal today, but they count all the same, and the Patriots will need a massive comeback now.

Russell, the sub for Brenecia, in possession. The ref has signalled four minutes of injury time, two of those are now gone, and the South Newlandian defense, now also featuring Jeffrey Scott who replaced Simon McCabe, is holding on tight. Russell, takes a shot, dangerous, and hits it off the crossbar! A perfect strike by the winger, Trischuk would not have had a chance at that one, but it’s rejected by the crossbar!

And the referee will end the game! The Elephants win, 3-1, in the first game of this World Cup, the first game in this stadium, to take three points in the opening match. The Patriots, in a game that was at least even, they led in shots and possession, but the Elephants lead in the metric that matters. A great game for Wolverine, three debutant goalscorers as the Elephants nearly double their all-time World Cup finals goal count. Wolverine’s scheme has worked out; his experienced players got the job done well. In a few days, the Elephants will be hosting Ethane in Ratzupalfu; Ethane will start into this World Cup tomorrow against Squidroidia in the Elephant Dome. Tune in for game two, again, on South Newlandia One!

[Vdara]

What’s The Time?

Time is a tool,
you can put on a wall,
or wear it on your wrist.
The past is far behind us -
the future doesn’t exist.

With the match against The Holy Empire nearing the end, Vdaran fans were making as much noise as possible, praying that their side would hold on to this result. It was unusual for the Vdarans to be playing such defensive football, but considering the massive rank differential - it was almost inevitable. I mean, come on, you have to cut them some slack when they’re playing against the best team in the world, after all.

Kinetik Stadium
New Colk

At the sidelines, Markos Moustakakos stood and watched as his players tried to hold on to a decent result against their highest-ranked opponent. As much as the fans cheered and tried to will their team on, he could see signs of fatigue beginning to affect his players - a lapse of concentration here, a misplaced pass there - and he began to worry.

”Come on, lads! Keep it together, not long to go now!”

VDARA - 0             88:42
THE HOLY EMPIRE - 0

A bead of sweat formed on Markos’ forehead. The time wasn’t ticking down as quick as he’d like it to, and every time he looked up at the scoreboard he was disheartened by how long there was left in the match. He looked over at the opposition manager, the legend that is Juan Tzimisces, as well as his legendary assistant, Simeone Di Bradini. This coaching duo were a double-act to be feared, a double-act that had vanquished many a team - and yet, here they were, watching their team try and break down a staunch Vdaran defence. Could it last? Would it last? The players were clearly running on empty, surely they were close to ending the match?

VDARA - 0             89:11
THE HOLY EMPIRE - 0

”Fuck me…” thought Markos. It had been 29 seconds. Time was not passing at the pace he wanted it to. He thought that it had been at least two minutes that his team were struggling, but it had been seconds. Not to worry, though - another 49 seconds and his team would be home and dry, ready to face their next foe. Markos tried to keep his mind occupied, thinking about what he would have for dinner. There was macaroni cheese in the fridge, that would have to do. Look at the time. Oh, but there was pizza in the freezer - how joyous. Look at the time. Hmmmm, what about a steak instead? LOOK AT THE TIME. He looked at the time.

VDARA - 0             89:32
THE HOLY EMPIRE - 0

Another 21 seconds. Shit. Don’t look at the time. Think about dinner again. Look at the time. What’s a good drink to have with pizza? Look at the time. There was some orange juice in the fridge, but he wanted something fizzy. Look at the time. Alternatively, there was cola next to the milk. Look at the time. What if those two were mixed together; would it be called mola or cilk? Bro, that’s messed up. Just LOOK AT THE TIME! He looked at the time.

VDARA - 0             89:59
THE HOLY EMPIRE - 0

”God, this is relentless. Please, don’t let there be too much added time…” He watched as the fourth official began to hold up the digital board to signify… 3 minutes of added time. Fuck. Shit. What now? He could barely handle another 3 seconds, never mind another 3 minutes. He couldn’t keep his mind occupied with any more mind-numbingly stupid things when there was action on the pitch - all he could do was silently sweat, cry, and stare. Look at the time. He wouldn’t look at the time. Look at the time. He still wouldn’t look at the time. Look behind you. He looked behind him. There were fans, how predictable. Was he expecting anything different? Was there anything to expect? How many seconds had ti-No! He couldn’t think about the time. He had to shut out the time, otherwise it would consume him - he, like the players, would have to stick through this. He would have to stay strong. They all would. Look at the time. He looked at the time.

VDARA - 0             90:00
THE HOLY EMPIRE - 0   +1:28

Another minute and a half to go. ”Christ above, christ above, I’m going to have to go for one of those ice baths after the game, otherwise I’ll overheat with all of this panicking.” Mmmmm, ice. Ice, ice, baby. Ice was cool. Ice was collected. Markos was neither, he was shaking like a leaf, but trying his best to hide it. Not that he was doing a very good job of it, as his assistant coach began to look at him funny. Or, perhaps, it was the time that was looking at him funny. Perhaps he shoul- No! Keep it together, Markos. No need to look at the time, for it will keep ticking. Tick, tock, tick, tock. God, time is relentless. Goes fast when you want it to go slow, and vice versa. Why does it do that? How does it do that? Look at the time. He looked at the time.

VDARA - 0             90:00
THE HOLY EMPIRE - 0   +2:11

Oh, god. Why did he look at the time? What kept compelling him to look at the time? Was it simply paranoia, or was it something else? It’s probably those scary guys on the pitch, isn’t it. They’re slowing down time. They’re slowing down everything. This isn’t a dream, no matter the result - this is a nightmare. A nightmare. A nightmare of time. A nightmare of time, and how untimely it can be. Look at the time. Don’t look at the time. Look at the time. Don’t look at the time. Look at the time. Come on, Markos! Resist the urge! Withstand the urge! You can do it! The time is not what controls you, only you control yourself! You can do it, Markos! The boys are going to- Look at the time! He looked at the time.

VDARA - 0             90:00
THE HOLY EMPIRE - 0   +2:58

Two more seconds. Two more seconds. Two mo-

*peep*
*peep*
*peeeeeeeeeeeep*

The referee’s whistle blew to signify the end of the game, and Markos dropped to his knees. The thought of time was overwhelming, and with that thought out of his mind, all he could do was kneel there and let his emotions out. Christ, what an ending. Why was it so tough? Why was time so slow? Why was time so slow? Why was time so slo-

Suddenly, Alexis Fotellis came over and gave him a good slap in the face. ”Markos! Snap out of it, man! Game’s over, it’s alright. You’re okay. Now, go and shake Tzimisces’ hand - even if yours is full of sweat and shaking like mad.”

A jittery Markos shook Tzimisces’ hand, before stumbling into the dressing room for a lie-down. He couldn’t handle it. What couldn’t he handle? What was “it”? “It” was them, wasn’t it. Those sleekit, sly folk. Thankfully, he wouldn’t have to deal with them anymore - the match was over. Time was up.

[Pemecutan]

CHAPTER 2.1 || CHAPTER 2.2 || CHAPTER 2.3 || CHAPTER 2.4 || CHAPTER 2.5
CHAPTER 2.6 || CHAPTER 2.7 || CHAPTER 2.8 || CHAPTER 2.9 || CHAPTER 2.10

---

---

CHAPTER 2.11

"So, what happen to him?" ask Detective Wirasa.
Pande stand from his seat and walk aside. He lean to the desk right next to the detective who is looking at him waiting for the answer.
"Ngurah Teja Paksa was one of the bright young players during his time. He started to play at senior club right after he turn 18. He was getting offered from several big clubs, Campuhan, Ubung, Padangsambian, you named it. But then he joined Titih. A new rising club at the time."

"Then what happen?" ask the detective.
"One time during their match against Balun, he was being tackled and get injured. Unfortunately, the injury get more severe which makes him unable to move his leg. He can't continue playing again. His situation got worse then the club cut his contract. He was 20 at the time," reveal Pande.

"It must be a big blow to him," say the detective.
"Indeed. He took longer to recover but he still can fully recover which makes him unable to play again. He resign from football world. He got depressed and finally kill himself," explain Pande.

"Does he has any family left?" ask Detective Wirasa.
"His family moved to Tandeg Suci after the death. That's all I know," answer Pande.

"Thank you for the information. We will start the investigation from there," closed the detective.

EVERYTHING'S CHANGE

Arthajaya chase Agung Darma who is walk away from him. It is quite strange for him as Agung keeps avoiding him for the past days. He's not understand what happen.

"Agung! Can't you slow down a bit? What's happening? Why are you avoiding me?" ask Arthajaya as he able to chase him.
"Nothing. I just feel that we don't have anything to talk anymore. You have turn against us. Against what we want to accomplish," explain Agung.
"And what that goal is again? Giri supremacy? Tambangan hegemony?" say Arthajaya abruptly.
"Of course. Isn't that what we want all this time? We already done it with Titih accomplishment. But that's not enough. We still can't control the league. Ulunusa is eyeing on us. But what you do now? You just give up with the vote result. You're not doing anything. We're not just facing Ulunusa now but also Soracana," reveal Agung Darma which makes Arthajaya stun.

"You're taking it too far!" shouts Arthajaya.
"It's not that far. For the pride of Tambangan," defend Agung Darma.
"By sabotaging the association?" ask Arthajaya.
"You'll never understand. You have been bribe by them with the youth league position," accused Agung Darma.
"It's not bribing," cut Arthajaya.
Then what? That thing that make you change and not thinking about our region anymore," shouts Agung Darma who is abruptly leave.

Arthajaya stay silent. He can't believe Agung become obsessed with the whole 'making Tambangan the best' premise. He still believe that Agung have anything to do with the fire incident.

---

Pande start the meeting after the lunch break as he promise. And the schedule is two voting.

"Our first vote is about the change of our league system. We're not getting into detail now as it will be talk further with the clubs," explain Pande.

Everyone is then given a parch of paper where they will write 'yes' or 'no' to change the league system. One by one give their paper to Pande to be collected. Arthajaya join the vote as has been instructed by Pande.

"Thank you everyone. Next is about youth league," say Pande. "Previously, I have talk with Arthajaya about taking the position as the President of Youth League. And this is the vote if everyone agree about that," added Pande.

Everyone murmuring about the revelation. Pande once again give them a parch of papers to vote 'yes' or 'no' about giving the position of President of Youth League to Arthajaya.

"Thank you everyone for the vote. We take a short break before revealing the result," say Pande.

Everyone stand up from their seat and taking the break. Many are surrounded Arthajaya about the revelation including Suwitra. But Agung Darma avoid the crowd and choose to be alone. This situation is noticed by Pande. He hope everything is okay. He things he can't handle any other issue after the fire incident. Remembering that makes him wonder. Has Detective Wirasa found anything about Teja Paksa family? But it might be need a longer time as they are not in the country.

[Eura]

WORLD CUP 89 – GROUP D MATCHDAY 1
EURA 2 – 1 CHROMATIKA
Scorers: Woakes 45+1, Bond 71
Lineup: 1 K Belgrave, 2. H Wheeler, 4. J Menard, 15. T Green, 5. K Sherwood, 3. L Almwood, 6. M Rowland (sub Matthews 55), 8. V Robshaw, 7. M Woakes, 10. I Tomlinson (sub Bond 50), 14. S Robson (sub Vincent 76)

---

Momodou was disappointed with himself and his crew. ‘You call this a catch? You might feed one table at a restaurant with this. When did it get so bad?’
His friend and fellow trawlerman Adama let go of the control panel for the trawling equipment and staggered over to Momodou, almost slipping as he traversed the wet metal floor of the deck – a deck that was very depressingly absent of any caught fish as the retracting net slid onto it. ‘Hey, its gotta’ be possible the fish saw how things are going on land and thought “Let’s get the hell out of here”, right?’ Momodou couldn’t stifle a laugh this time. ‘Ah, well, at least we have each other’s company, huh? Come on, let’s call it. Gereh!’
The head of a very short third trawlerman popped out of the cabin, stretching to barely able to make himself seen. ‘WHAT WAS THAT?!’
‘I said let’s call it! Take us home.’
‘OK!’
‘Shit, as soon as we get back, I’m getting us hand radios. I came out here to lose my sense of smell from the stock, not my voice!’ joked Momodou, trying his best to cover up his frustration at another luckless day. Kitarans like these were the backbone of Nyowani Kitara’s maritime industry, but if the Xandrian Sea didn’t start giving them a little more reward, they wouldn’t be for long.

‘Hey, get up here! There’s something weird come in.’ Momodou and Adama looked up to see Gereh staring at the screen of an old-fashioned state-issue computer for the nation’s trawler fleet.
‘Hold on a minute, we’ll be there.’ Considering the state of the country these days, the boat was actually in pretty good condition. But keeping it that way could be a challenge. Adama was reminded of this as he slipped again while climbing to the cabin, losing his grip on a bent railing and almost falling two metres to a nasty injury. Before the civil war had begun, getting basic repairs like that done was easy, but not so much now. Specialist equipment and specifically designed metal parts, even for things as simple as a safety rail, were becoming hard to come by.
‘Look at this.’ Momodou peered down at the screen which was hard to read in the glare of a bright sunny day. ‘I can’t…move, get out of the way, so I can read it! Gereh tried to protest but his captain took over, pushing Gereh out of the way and reading through the message as quickly as he could.
‘It’s a Notice to Mariners’, he said, ‘from the Euran Navy.’ He grew concerned as he continued to read. ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’
‘Read it yourself. We need to turn for home right away.’

NOTICE TO MARINERS
In or near the territorial waters of Nyowani Kitara, northeast Xandrian Sea

ESTABLISHMENT OF A MARITIME EXCLUSION ZONE

All vessels and crews receiving this message should be aware that, from midnight tonight, the Euran Navy will be establishing a 50-mile exclusion zone from the coast of Nyowani Kitara for an indefinite period. No vessels without pre-existing permission to enter these waters will be permitted to transit. Further details of the terms of the zone are attached with maps, and a list of excluded categories of maritime traffic.

If you are a vessel currently at sea or in port that requires clearance to transit the exclusion zone after the deadline, immediately contact Dewayo’s civil maritime control authority and file information to be passed to Euran Fleet Command. Ensure you meet all requirements for transiting the exclusion zone before sailing. Do not attempt to sail without having met these requirements, and do not attempt to deceive Euran forces.

If you are ordered to stop for inspection by a Euran naval vessel or aircraft, do not attempt to evade interception and obey all commands without question. All Euran vessels and aircraft will be clearly marked and flagged. You can communicate with Euran forces on the 425 – 429 MHz frequency.

Failure to comply with commands from Euran forces patrolling the area could result in boarding, arrest and/or being fired upon. The Euran Navy will prioritise the safety of its own ships and personnel over all other considerations – do not attempt to resist or engage in combat with Euran forces.

Further notices will follow and will update if there are any changes to the exclusion zone and its rules.

ADMIRAL FRANKLIN R. WOODGATE
COMMANDING OFFICER, CENTRAL RUSHMORE CARRIER STRIKE GROUP
EURAN NAVY

‘Ohhhkay.’
‘We must be a hundred miles from home! Shit, Momo, we need to get home now!’
‘Aren’t we government flagged?’
‘Yeah, you think that’s going to be enough? Please tell me you have the right paperwork on board.’
‘Uhhh, yeah. I think so?’
‘Hold on. Look!’
Off to their starboard side in the west, they could see two small glinting objects low against the horizon. There was no noise at first, but they were racing closer and closer, and a few seconds later it became clear what they were. Two jets flew overhead at high speed barely a couple of hundred metres off the surface, buzzing the trawler and continuing on.
‘Did they even see us? Why aren’t they hanging around?’
‘You think they give a shit about a rust bucket like this?’
‘I don’t want to find out. Let’s get this thing back to port and not sit here worrying about what-ifs, go!’

---

gov.eur/mod/newscentre
PRESS RELEASE: Statement on establishment of a maritime exclusion zone in the Xandrian Sea


Pictured: General Hartson-class nuclear-powered aircraft carriers ENS Lord Baker and ENS Holdenberg patrolling the straits between Nyowani Kitara and Ossidiacqua

The Euran government has announced the establishment of a 50-mile exclusion zone to all international shipping (bar specific exempted categories of vessel) from the coast of Nyowani Kitara in the Xandrian Sea.

This exclusion zone will be enforced primarily by the Euran Navy under the command of Admiral Franklin R. Woodgate. Admiral Woodgate, 49, is one of the Navy’s most qualified commanding officers and has previously served in operations off the Sameba, the Uke Islands, South Covello and Mareibat. The newly formed Central Rushmore Carrier Strike Group (CR-CSG) will cover all Euran forces in the Xandrian Sea participating in peacekeeping operations off the coast of Nyowani Kitara. The Euran Navy will not publicise the exact numbers of Euran forces in the region, but it can confirm that two nuclear-powered aircraft carriers will serve as the flagship vessels of the CR-CSG.

The Secretary of State for Defence, Sterling Thorpe, made the following statement:

‘It is not unusual to see Euran forces maintaining peace and stability throughout the region, and this situation is no different. The Navy have been previously deployed to the region in a monitoring capacity but now is the time to take action. Establishing this exclusion zone will prevent escalation of the conflict in Nyowani Kitara by preventing the illegal and lethal smuggling of weapons and combatants into the country via the sea, and will give the Euran Navy a greater ability to conduct limited military action in Nyowani Kitara to eliminate threats to Euran and broader international security. We expect the maritime community, businesses and our international partners to respect the authority of the Euran Navy in the region and co-operate with us in delivering a more peaceful future for Nyowani Kitara and wider Pavlova.’

On this page you will find relevant documents, including the rules the Euran Navy will use to police this exclusion zone, a list of exemptions for transiting vessels, maps and guidance for the international maritime community to use, and legal text regarding the use of Euran forces to maintain the integrity and sovereignty of Nyowani Kitara’s territorial waters

---

Within hours of the Euran announcement, the expected international reaction began to emerge. What the Euran’s had not anticipated was such a belligerent reaction from Banija and how it would snowball over the next few days, when Busukuma had so far proven reluctant to challenge Corvistone and Bastion’s role in the Nyowani Kitara conflict. This is what troubled Foreign Secretary Carl Rutherford the most. The Chief of the Military Staff, General Curtly Woodgate-Smith, was even less impressed with the reaction of the Kitaran’s former colonial rulers.
‘I’m sure they feel very clever right now, don’t they? The Kabaka won’t be so smug if we put down those transports before they get close.’
Rutherford, ever the diplomat, urged his colleague to calm down with by placing a hand on his shoulder. ‘I don’t think we should get too excited at this point. It’s a worrying development but we can handle it.’
‘Can we?’ Prime Minister Ian Smith, joining them via phone, sounded unusually bellicose on the speaker. ‘Carl, the Foreign Office very explicitly assured us the Banijans wouldn’t dare lift a finger the moment Euran assets were in the way. What happened?’

‘If you want my theory’ Carl said, knowing the answer to the question before he asked it, ‘then I would suggest that the Banijans feel cut out. They fell in with the KFF too early and now they can’t back down without being humiliated. There’s a lot of historical context here for them that doesn’t apply with other countries. It probably doesn’t help that we palmed them away the last time they tried to engage. I’m less sure about the strength of their ideological convictions on this issue, but at the very least we should consider a balanced approach here given we are in a strong position and don’t want to overreach. I’ve been discussing something with Corvistone and they have another proposal to share.’
‘Oh great’. And there was the Minister of Defence, Sterling Thorpe. It had been an unhappy few weeks for him. ‘What now?’
‘Park it, Sterling! Lindt is even more fuming about this than I am’ Smith barked, probably with a grimace on his face at Thorpe’s impudence though no-one could tell over the phone. Thorpe was already on thin ice with the PM. ‘Go ahead Carl.’
‘I’ll keep it to the point; we take a carrot and stick approach. The carrot is we offer a backchannel tripartite discussion group between us, them and Nephara. We make an effort through that to bring them round to our argument on the conflict and provide reassurances that the KPWC will not be allowed to carry on, business as usual, once the war ends. But we also make it absolutely clear that we are not going to change course whatsoever, and that Banija handing guns to the KFF to kill Nepharan and Euran peacekeepers is as provocative as a direct attack – and will receive an appropriate response. Thoughts?’ There was nothing from anyone else in the room.

Over the phone, Smith sounded pleased. ‘I like it. You have my approval – get on it. And the stick?’
‘The stick is we keep our boot on the KFF’s throat and never let up.’ Thorpe leaned back in his seat and frowned, taken off guard by Rutherford’s sudden willingness to use such aggressive rhetoric. ‘Nafuna and her regime might be teetering for a different reason every other week but that won’t matter if no-one is strong enough to replace her. We throttle the KFF from the sea while the Nepharans up their game on land; Sterling, you’ll need to speak to Stern on the Nepharan side and urge them to bring forward their troop surge.’
‘What does that mean, exactly?’
‘It certainly doesn’t mean any half-measures. The Nepharans said they want to run the show so its time to put up or shut up. We can offer them help, but there needs to be a proper Nepharan army in the country within days – deploy by air and get the fleet they’ve been readying for months to sail from Terranea.’

‘That makes sense’ Thorpe said, ‘and they can meet our forces building up at Helving mid-journey.’
‘Exactly.’
‘I’d like to add a suggestion as well. From my previous discussions with Stern, I think a no-fly zone inland should be a realistic prospect for the Nepharans. I’ll discuss with her privately. Curtly, what are our numbers looking like on the water?’
‘The carrier strike group already in the region is a merged force of the two nuclear-carrier group we had in the Alban Strait when this thing was kicking off, and some reinforcements we’ve rotated through to them in the interim. We did have a smaller conventional carrier as well but that’s had to come home for refit. When the Nepharans journey to the region they’ll be joined by a replacement force fresh from resupplies in Falourr and Helving. But until then that means we’ve got two carriers, more than a couple of dozen escorts and support ships. And several submarines, of course, but they’re operating independently at the moment in the channels around Ossidiacqua.’ ‘Is it just me’ Smith commented, ‘or for once are we having a meeting where I don’t want to hit at least one of you?’ A rare laugh went around the room. These were tough times for Eura’s current administration and moments of levity were sparse.

What mattered was that the PM was happy, and so the gears of the Euran machine started to turn. Rutherford would give the Nepharans the go-ahead to start charming Banija and Thorpe would get their joint fleet moving, and Corvistone to go all-in with their operations. Before they set off, the PM asked Rutherford and Thorpe to stay behind for a moment. Thorpe feared another chewing out; Rutherford wondered if he was going to be a witness or fellow victim. It turned out neither was right.
‘I don’t want this to go wider, but, if the Banijans try one of these flights soon…what do we do?’
Thorpe and Rutherford looked at each other as if they were waiting for the other to answer the puzzle. Rutherford gave an “I’ve got nothing” shrug, forcing Thorpe to take the lead. ‘Ian, once the Nepharans have got their air force on the ground in Dewayo and can operate a no-fly zone over land, I think we’ll just say we’re extending it over the blockade and that’ll be game over. The carriers have enough airpower alone to maintain it.’

‘And until then?’
‘Even without a no-fly zone, it’s not exactly easy for the Banijans to drop supplies. They have a long flight made even longer by needing to circumvent Ossidiacqua’s airspace; if they take the western route around, they will probably run out of range. So, they’ll need to run the gap between Ossidiacqua and Ancharmunn, and we’ll be there to meet them with fighters intercepting from the carriers.’
‘You don’t mean shooting them down, do you?’
‘No, that would be a huge escalation at this point. We can just harass them – missile locks, the old-fashioned close fly by, warning shots with autocannon. Assuming they don’t just call it a day after all that, then they’ll have very little time to drop supplies over land once they reach Inhalo and the surrounding area. And if we’re tracking them with our fighters, we could even follow the supplies in and hit KFF forces trying to collect them.’
‘And you’re absolutely sure these tactics are viable?’
‘Yes’ Thorpe said with the confidence of a man on top of his brief, ‘and I can get you further advice from the air force on that if you want further reassurances.’
‘It sounds like we have a strategy, then. Get to work.’

---

Off the coast of Nephara, an assortment of grey-clad ships were slipping away from the port at Brinemouth in the dead of night, soon to be joined by a batch of submarines covertly departing the southern port of Vermillion. After months of preparation and waiting for the go ahead the Nepharan Navy was on the move. ‘Admiral?’
The head of this force would be Admiral Valeria Paterson. In classic Nepharan style, she wasn’t just picked from a row of officers to lead this operation – she was the head of the Nepharan Navy and a member of the Chiefs of Staff. Nepharan military culture placed extra responsibility on senior personnel like Paterson to lead from the front where another country might not. If somebody in Falourr suggested her Euran counterpart Fleet Admiral Edgar Moss being deployed to the tip of the spear of a naval armada, they would be laughed out of the room. Maybe Paterson was dwelling on that comparison herself because something was distracting her from the adjunct bringing dinner to the bridge.
‘Admiral, this is going to get cold.’
‘Ah, fuck’s sake, come!’ The no nonsense Paterson gripped the tray and set it down without taking her eye off the horizon.

In her field of view, she could see the dimly lit silhouettes of the majority of the entire fleet, made up of around a hundred major and minor surface vessels Nephara possessed. It was a sight that could stir the heart of even the most cynical of her compatriots. The Nepharan Navy had only ever sailed for combat at full strength during the Endemian War when it liberated far flung islands and, in humbler times, served as an amendment to Eura’s vast naval power during the pickets of Sameban waters. But even when the Eurans were doing the heavy lifting against Sameba’s proud naval forces the Nepharans were able to do enough to develop a formidable reputation of their own. The Navy had done well out of the war, maybe even better than the Army due to the relative lack of casualties. And so, when talk of “peace dividends” came hurtling around as the guns fell quiet off a conquered Sameba’s coast, the Navy and Army won the argument to be exempted and carry on receiving buckets of money towards rearming and recruitment.

Leading them out was Paterson’s flagship and by far the oldest serving ship in the fleet, the Juggernaut. It was a big-gun battleship and therefore a relic of a bygone age, but one that held an important place in the annals of modern Nepharan nationalism, as iconic and meaningful as the football team, a formation of cormorants, or even the most celebrated politician. She was a beauty too; 55,000 tons fully loaded, a dazzling array of 16-inch guns as her traditional main armament with smaller secondaries as well, and all the features of modernisation which included anti-ship and cruise missile launchers. In a modern naval context, her main duties usually involved looking pretty for set piece events and national holiday’s, or, when used in anger, shore bombardment. In the Endemian War though she had managed to sink a few smaller Sameban straggler ships detached from bigger fleets. Eura and Sameba’s remaining battleships had been similarly cut out of the main action, although at least one of them did get to experience the awesome terror of battleship-on-battleship combat, thankfully coming out on top.

Much more critical to Nephara’s ability to project power outside of a black-and-white film were her aircraft carriers, Sentinel and Warden. In a serious showdown against serious opponents, the Nepharan Navy would be naked without these two vital weapons of war. Like most of Nephara’s fleet they were not brand new by any means, but most importantly of all they were a known entity; sufficiently modern to be capable of holding their own against sophisticated opponents, and flexible enough to be used in a variety of roles, with a large suite of aircraft proven in real warfare against Sameba and crewed by battle-hardened pilots. There were even patches on the hull of Sentinel where she had taken a Sameban anti-ship missile to the gut, fortunately avoiding a catastrophic explosion of ammunition magazines or fuel tanks due to the diligence of her crew and good design principles on the part of the Nepharan shipworkers and engineers who had crafted her. Surrounding the three capital ships was a honeycomb of escorting destroyers and frigates; the former dominated by the philosophically named ships of the ‘Spirit’ class (like Ardour and Wrath), the latter a multi-generational blend built around a core of the rugged ‘Trooper’ class (such as Berserker and Ogre).

The victorious case made for the prioritisation of the Navy and Army in Nepharan defence budgets had created unfortunate side effects which were also painfully visible to Paterson alongside the more triumphant sight of her combat vessels. The Air Force had borne the brunt of post-war cuts, however the real damage to Nepahra’s expeditionary independence was done by deep reductions in logistics capabilities that underpinned all three branches of the armed forces. Support ships vital to modern naval warfare such as fast combat support ships and landing docks were either outdated, worn down or entirely absent. The Margravine had committed Nephara to its ambitious goal of taking a leading role in resolving the war in Nyowani Kitara but she had probably not considered, at the time, whether the Navy could really get the Army there alone. If there was one failing Nepharan military culture did have, it was perhaps the flip side of that determined spirit and fearsome willingness to charge into the breach; a recklessness that might not win you a war in a day but could very easily lose it.

That was the theory of their more stand-offish Euran allies anyway. In the early stages of planning Operation CROWBAR the Nepharan Navy had at least recognised their weak point and requested support early on. The Euran Admiralty had been expecting the request and threw down an offer of loaning a crucial group of support vessels for the duration. Over the past few months, a dozen Euran-flagged ships had made the short trip to Brinemouth, a fact not lost on eagle-eyed media taking photographs of the port from the city, whose frantically speculative articles had no doubt set hares running in a dozen overseas capitals with an interest in Nyowani Kitara. Under the cover of what both countries euphemistically called “joint readiness warm-ups” these ships had been prepared to massively increase Nephara’s ability to transport tens of thousands of soldiers out to Nyowani Kitara. Some of the ships would remain under Euran flags and crews, others would look as Nepharan as Juggernaut, but all were united in purpose.

Her flagship’s captain was just as ready to go as Paterson was. ‘Ma’am, everyone is in position and we’re well clear of the coast now.’
‘Good.’ Paterson allowed herself the luxury of a big chomp out of some toast. ‘Time to get this fucker rolling then, eh? 60 degrees, full ahead. We’ll cut through the channels west of Cabo Azure and Kale.’
‘Was there any word back from headquarters ma’am? If we take the most direct route up the coast of Terranea then we’re exposing ourselves to being observed from places like Junin and Kale.’
‘No way. Stern was clear - speed is of the essence. You heard my order, didn’t you Captain?’
‘Yes ma’am. Helmsman, full ahead 60.’ And so, it began.
‘Ma’am!’
‘Oh, for the love of…’ Paterson was not happy. She had only just got into the second bite of her only meal for the next twelve hours. ‘Haven’t you been in the service for decades? Sort it out mate.’
‘No, not that ma’am – we’ve got a ping on the comms. Its Blackstone encrypted, all yours.’
Paterson stopped grumbling. Blackstone was the system the Eurans used to communicate with allies. ‘Huh. Maybe the softies up north have shown up early.’ She marched over to the appropriate console and keyed in some clearance terms before she could view the message while her subordinates looked on.

MESSAGE FROM FLEETCOM FOR NPHFOR LEADER.

EURFOR SHARK OFF YOUR NOSE 27 CLICKS. MAKE CONTACT WITH US AND FOLLOW. CONTINUE CURRENT HEADING. 2X RENDEVOUS – BLUEROCK AND SEAPORT. EURFOR WILL FILL YOUR CANTEENS. HAPPY DAYS.

MESSAGE ENDS.

‘It’s from a Euran sub 27 kilometres ahead of us. Turning up unannounced it seems. Obviously, they’ve been sent to keep an eye on us.’ Paterson practically spat out the last few words. Even with strict protocols of secrecy in place, word had spread throughout the officer corps that Paterson was less enthusiastic than most about Bastion’s tendency to smother an ally that had already proven an ability to stand its on two feet. The Captain was more diplomatic. ‘It makes sense for them to join up with us early though doesn’t it. Are we still on for a resupply?’
Paterson bit her lip and averted his gaze as she grudgingly acknowledged that the Eurans might actually be a necessary element of the operation. ‘Yes. They’re saying Baton Island and then Helving.’ That was what “BLUEROCK” and “SEAPORT” had meant in the message – the island off Eura’s coast, then its heavily militarised exclave off the coast of Falkyr.
‘Not too bad then. I’m guessing they’re still keeping quiet about how big a force they’re going to send with us.’
‘Hopefully they’ll just pad our numbers with some frigates and stay in the back.’ Paterson smirked as she looked back at that last comment in the message, “HAPPY DAYS”. Euraspeak, she’d been told, for “have a good journey”. ‘I plan on it’ she muttered under her breath as the Nepharan Navy continued on its quest to Nyowani Kitara.

---

At the Foreign Office, the junior Minister responsible for managing relations with the newly formed region of Anaia was still bruising from a frustrating conversation with Foreign Secretary Rutherford. Preston Armitage had been trying to persuade Rutherford to get the PM and government as a whole to wade in to the increasingly out of control referendum in the Euran Oceania Territories. By declaring itself neutral, the Euran government had given carte blanche to every faction in the debate to make up stances on its behalf, and with Rutherford and Smith distracted by Nyowani Kitara no-one was doing anything about it. Armitage had been repeatedly touted by the chattering classes as a rising star in the Liberal Party, but he sure didn’t feel like it. The amount of influence he had appeared to be nil at present.

He sank his frustrations into the bottom of a bottle, and increasingly into the bed of his chief policy advisor. Jodie Painter was a bright light in stormy weather. They had met at party conference. Next came a few late nights in the office together. In time, one too many such nights ended with an empty bottle of wine and a thrilling encounter in the bathroom. They were more careful the longer it went on but there could be no guarantees of total safety from a damaging exposure. Armitage – dear Preston, as she called him - was divorced. Jodie was very much married. ‘Till death do us part!’ she would declare to him with a giggle as the ring came off every time. Affairs in politics are a tale as old as time. However, the risk to the government here lay not in one of these two star crossed lovers betraying the other. It was Jodie’s daughter.

Tamara Painter loaded up her computer on a rainy evening in her mother’s plush Bastion house, tucked into the centre of the never-ending city. Cliché as her teenage years had become for a rebellious child of a politician – smash the state, latte-sipping comrades of upper-middle class! – Tamara was a real talent, an intelligent kid with a potentially bright future and a strong interest in politics, just like her mother. Her fairly typical mid-to-late teen leftist turn had sometimes put her on a path of shouty disagreements with Jodie but never enough to cause them to properly fall out. In fact, they now had something to agree on in Nyowani Kitara. It didn’t matter that they had arrived at the same conclusion for wildly different reasons; Civil Federalist supporting Tamara and Liberal party fixture Jodie both shared the view that Nafuna Akongo had to stay on Dewayo’s throne in all-but-name.

‘Human beings are usually good’ was what Jodie normally told her daughter along with many other quotes and phrases intended to teach instant life lessons. And yet with goodness comes good intentions, and sometimes terrible, unintended outcomes. Tamara did not want to mess anything up for her mother. Or for Preston even. She knew of the affair and had seen him visit late at night and actually quite liked him despite his Liberal MP status. She heard him vent about the bind the government had put itself in over its multiple intersecting crises. Tamara wondered if there was some way she could help. And why not? She knew she was smart. Her teachers frequently said that one day she could be Prime Minister. And what better way to get there than by taking advantage of her access to do a deniable favour for a government that was capitalist, but still propping up a socialist Nyowani Kitara?

Tamara was naïve. Not due to her utopian political beliefs, as the Euran left would never have thought her next move to be a good idea. Instead, it was simply because she lived in the bubble of a politician’s catered child and had no experience of what power actually felt like, only what it resembled from a back seat view. She took her views on Nyowani Kitara, her desire to do something to help the better of her two parents and the man that made her happy, her own need to do something, and added them all together to conclude that she could make a difference with this next step. Two and two had been added together only to produce five. And so she had rustled up some documents from Jodie’s work bag and done something very naughty with them.
‘Hurry up!’
She was talking to herself as the laptop froze up. She’d been drafting an email to a customer service address for EBC News, because obviously she had no idea who to actually contact otherwise. Eventually she lost patience and whipped out her mobile phone.
‘Hello. Hi, I’ve got a story for you. No, I can’t give a name right now, but I can email some stuff to you that will prove it…’

The next morning, Preston woke up in his own bed with the imprint of Jodie next to him. She had left for home already which was a shame. A note had been left on his sideboard:
Sorry to piss off so early. Got to do the school run. See you in Blackhall! J xxx
He smiled and set it back down. He would take another minute to wake up then finally got moving, switching on the radio as soon as he reached the kitchen. As he was frying up some eggs, EBC’s morning radio news bulletin kicked in.
‘…a source close to the Foreign Office has told the EBC that Minister for Anaian Affairs Preston Armitage described the government of Atlantian Oceanian nation Banija as “neo-colonial meddlers” in a rant to colleagues. The source, who we have verified independently, said that Mr Armitage, 42, relayed the comments privately later. The EBC has since spoken to several colleagues who have confirmed this version of events. The pro-Anaian campaign in the Euran Oceania Territories referendum has seized on the leaked views of a prominent Euran government Minister as proof that Atlantian Oceanian government’s are “anti-Euran”, a heavy focus of their recent campaign…’
Preston had a mug of coffee a moment ago. Now it was smashed on the floor.

[Tikariot]

Ready or not, it is time

[Nephara]

Eura 0 - 1 Nephara
(4-2-3-1) 1 - Provost; 2 - Stride, 5 - Clevinger, 22 - Bruhn, 3 - Lind (18 - Islinger 85'); 4 - Timekeeper (15 - Belltower 68'), 8 - Cromwell; 13 - Reed, 7 - Koerner, 11 - Considine (19 - Belgrade 68'); 21 - Basilisk
Goal: Reed 27'

Isebantu,

Corvistone will not be swayed by your outrageous provocations. Surely, you must understand that delivering Banijan materiel to forces engaging with Nepharan is just the same as Banijans being on the ground themselves? A KPWC victory is inevitable. Resourcing the KFF will only prolong a tragic war and the suffering of the people of Nyowani Kitara.

Nepharan forces have taken the field to ensure order and stability in the region. The KRF are not fit for purpose, and the KFF forces are a glorified militia of ragtag terrorists. The difference is that with the KRF, and with the KPWC at large, we hold the whip hand, and we are willing to pay a price in blood to ensure stability in the region. Already, after seizing Sohna, our commanders deliberately drew the combat away from the town, ensuring that there were no further civilian casualties. There were no purges. So long as Nephara holds any agency in the region, there will be no purges. You cannot promise the same of the lawless KFF.

You must know we bear no love for the KPWC. We are certain you can have little love for Malik Akongo. While we have no comment as to Nafuna Akongo's recent actions, events have left us with a strong hold on Nafuna, one of our advisors taking the rogue assassin Isaksson's place at her shoulder, and a new general taking the field to oversee the actions in the field. The noose tightens. We will not betray Nafuna, but first and foremost we refuse to betray Nyowani Kitara, and easing the pressure on rebel factions would constitute such a betrayal. The bloodshed and chaos in Karora is only further evidence that the DFLK have no jurisdiction beyond Port Viljan, and the KFF have no rightful claim to anywhere. We make no philosophical case for the KPWC's right to rule, only that they represent the least upheaval; and we recognise this is only because of their upheaval in years past.

We implore Busukuma to abandon their support of the KFF, and to encourage Malik and his cronies to throw down their arms. We have no desire for reprisal, and will take no action against any of Malik's followers who surrender; while we make no assurances for Malik's safety should he remain in the country, we have no desire to pursue him should he leave. There is a diplomatic way forward, one which preserves the good feeling between our people. Yet if the KFF should come into possession of Banijan materiel, and that materiel put to purpose against Nepharan troops, then know it will be Banija held responsible for any blood spilled on their account.

Margravine Ulrica Constance Lindt
Lord of the Long Marches
First Among Equals of the Union
"Under Steel Are All Men Levelled"

---

OPERATION CROWBAR
General Morgan Leander

TF TISIPHONE:
Lt. General Petrarch Waters
Strike the KFF with overwhelming force.

TF ALECTO:
Brigadier Claudia Larchwood
Continue to pin down KFF from Sohma.

TF MEGAERA:
Brigadier Rachael Belshaw
Push on against DFLK towards Karora.

Colonel Sey was the kind of man who could bear a grudge for a while, and let it truly fester.
In fairness, having a a finger was the kind of thing any man could bear a grudge for, and due to a slackness in seeing a medic, that stump, too, had quite literally started to fester. He'd managed to kill the infection, belatedly, but people still wrinkled their noses around him.
Nevertheless, he'd waited as long as it took for someone to come in outranking Brigadier Larchwood, and eventually, those prayers had been answered.
General Morgan Leander had arrived with the third wave of Nepharan troops, and like most of the Nepharan command, they'd served with distinction in Sameba. Lean and hatchet-faced, Leander wasn't the easiest to look at, their face having a slightly uneven look where a Sameban marksman had shattered their right cheek. Their heavy-lidded eyes suggested a permanent boredom, and combined with their demeanour to create the disconcerting effect that they had a big red button on their desk that would open a trapdoor beneath one's feet.
They'd struck Dewayo like lightning, immediately getting their tendrils everywhere. The Nepharan mission in the country had tripled, their presence increased six- to eightfold. The mission had crept up from simply pushing back the KFF to driving them to destruction.
But Colonel Sey would be made to wait.
"I have to see the general on urgent business concerning the conduct of Nepharan officers."
The adjutant looked up critically over his desk. He eyed the stars on Sey's shoulders, before coming to the reluctant realisation he couldn't just blow the guy off. "You'll have to wait your turn. They're currently meeting with Lindbeck in person, and the Taskforce commanders over a call."
Sey blinked. "There's more than one general?"
"No. Would you mind taking a seat?"

Eventually, the doors opened, and a compact, raven-haired woman stepped through, bronze earrings jangling. She winked at him.
It was... frustrating, to Sey, that all this could just happen around him. Once, there'd been a mere handful of these scarred soldiers with their casually violent demeanours. Now they almost seemed to run the joint. Isaksson was gone, and now more and more Nepharan officers seemed to flood the joint. Was this Dewayo, or Little Corvistone? Was anyone going to stop these tattooed foreigners just doing whatever they wanted?
Leander did not look up when he arrived. "Colonel Sey. Heard of you. Anyone ever discussed with you the concept of serendipity?"
This was not a line of questioning he'd been ready for. "Uh."
"Word I'm deeply fond of. Named my firstborn after it. Serendipity Lauren. Wife's surname, she's the one with the extended family worth a damn, after all, and besides, the given name was my insistence." They looked up, their face no easier to look at in the harsh light of their lamps. "It's good fortune. Strikes us all."
Sey's eyes had wandered, before noting with relief that Leander's sabre was sheathed, hanging off the back of their chair. "As you say. I'd actually come to you with--"
"Hit me in a Sammi cell. Some fucker shot me in the face, section thought I was gone as they had to pull back under fire." They sniffed. "Got dragged in a van and swept off. Lieutenant back then, see? Turns out after the fact I was the highest-ranking Nephar who got captured over the whole damn war. I come to, they drag me out of the cell, I don't even see a chair, see a lot of knives, sharp edges. Look for insignia on the guy who has me by the arm, can't see any. Realise this guy's a political officer. Realise I'm his project. Probably he just wants a bit of fun. Hm. Yeah, I got thoughts on torture. Got thoughts on some of the things I've been hearing. You got thoughts on torture, Colonel?"
"Yes, I do, which is why I wanted to speak to you about Brigad--"
"So this guy opens my jacket and throws it aside, opens my shirt with a knife, and I realise from the way this sick fuck's looking at me. I've been putting off a surgery since I left home, war struck, would've left me on my back for months. Realise this cunt's gonna do the job for me." Leander sipped a glass of water. "For free! Skimped on the anaesthetic, though. All good. Still laughing with how fucking stupid the circumstances are. Doesn't improve the guy's mood. Doesn't think this is how I should be reacting to getting fucking mutilated in a pit in the middle of nowhere. So figure you're in my situation. Hard though that might be. You hear a bang. His head head turns away. What do you do?"
Sey blinked. This was not the line of questioning he expected. "Does he have a gun holstered?"
"Good instinct. But no."
"I try and seize the knife--"
"Close enough. There was a stone. I beat the cunt's head in. Euran commandos break open the doors, free everyone else, and they see me, absolutely covered in blood, clothes carved open, face shot open, and some fucker's cut my tits off. I'm a Goddamn modern-day Hippolyta. So I get back to my unit and they give me a fucking promotion for not breaking under torture. Serendipity. Take your chances. Now." They finally got up from their desk, a tall, lean figure unfolding with mechanical grace, sidling closer to give Sey a disconcertingly good look. "You've got a chance here, Sey. The brigadier's been indiscreet. She is a direct and ruthless woman. You know that, I can see that from what's left of your hand, and everyone but the paperwork knows that. Now you can tell me something's happened, and I'd be honour-bound to do write it down, and one of my best officers - the one who's been here longest - would be taken out of the field. Or, you can do what I did. Take that stump and the opportunity that's fallen into your lap, and make the most of this. I'm here, looking for a KRF liaison, and you're here, looking like someone who knows when to let a grudge drop. Serendipity, see?"
No. "Yes." And in fairness, he thought, Leander had been able to drop their grudge after caving in the skull of the man responsible. But in fairness, he added, Leander wasn't so far from their sabre after all.
The general clapped him on the shoulder. "Good man."

---

ATTENDING:
2nd Battalion, Serpentine Company
SGT. Gerik ANSEHELM, section leader
CPL. Tania STAUB
SPC. Catheline KENDALL
SPC. Dimity SCARLETT

CPL. Nils TANZER [shock team]
PTEs. THIRLWELL, KEARNEY, WADE NEMETH

CPL. Zaza SCALE [fire team]
PTEs. WORN, SAVIC, HELMUTH

Scarlett pointed back towards the road, at one of the vehicles leaving a trail of dust behind on the road. "Technical."
Kendall squinted. "That's not a technical. That's a truck."
"Still a technical."
"By KRF standards that's a proper tank. No, a technical's got to be a ute with a gun on it."
"So a battlewagon?"
"Battlewagon and technical are synonyms," said the sniper, sharply.
"Sergeant, tell her she's being ridiculous."
Ansehelm's eyes were closed, his arms crossed. "Honestly, Dimi, I really couldn't bring myself to give a fuck."
"A battlewagon is a type of technical, but not all technicals are battlewagons," supplied Staub.
Kendall rolled her eyes as Scarlett chalked another mark on the APC. There were enough marks to raise questions about the KRF's capacity to meaningfully help power this offensive - but then, working with the KRF had already given them all the questions they could ever have wanted. Nevertheless, in an active warzone, an aging utility truck with a machine-gun strapped to it was better to have on your side than nothing at all. And it wasn't as though the KFF were in much better shape.
Nemeth, the new man, smiled quietly, but said nothing.
They'd lost Hansi Wade back by Sohma. As ever, the Snakebites took on the most treacherous position, preventing one of the hardpoints being outflanked. Tanzer's squad had been pinned down hard. Kearney had been felled by a shot to the shoulder. Wade had taken one under the chin. It had, at least, been quick.
For now, Ansehelm's section waited around a radio, clustered around the APC which had brought them east. Two thousand of Larchwood's best were being taken away from what was now Taskforce Alecto, the anvil, and over to Taskforce Tisiphone, the hammer. Not for the first time, Ansehelm reflected that the downside of being renowned as a pack of unstoppable war criminals was that you got shifted around to wherever the fighting was worst. But it still beat the hangar in Sameba.
He turned to the APC driver. "Hey, halftime over yet?"
The driver briefly unmuted the radio, which blared out an ad for cigarettes, before turning it back off. "Still a couple minutes to go before they walk back out, I think."
"Still, 1-0's not bad. Goal sounded like a beauty. And... and, well, the commentator seemed mostly to be shouting Nepharan names, so that's something."
"Eura can get a goal from anywhere, though, yeah? You seen Woakes and Bowman in action?"
Ansehelm shrugged. "Ah, me, I'm a 'tune in for the World Cup every couple years' kind of guy."
The man grinned. "As a Valesider, i would be, too. Well, take it from a Crissider, they can--"
"Hey," came a voice from atop the APC. "Hey, I got reception! One glorious bar of internet, courtesy of the little princess herself."
Scarlett looked up sharply. "Well, don't fuck about, Meliza, get to the--"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm on Twii already. Ah, here's a GIF..."
The soldiers clustered around Savic as she tried to angle the screen down so everyone could see. Squinting, they could just about see a fluid passing move started by the rightback, floating a ball over left ... buffering ... buffering ... to probably Considine, the red shirts shifting over her way and being exposed for a diagonal ball, Reed ... buffering ... racing past Almwood and driving home a straightforward finish.
Savic clicked her tongue. "Wow, they were exaggerating. Practically a fucking tap-in."
"Slick passing move, though, yeah?" opined Worn.
"It's a win for the system," said Tanzer.
"Fuck the system, I want to see screamers."
"And I want to win trophies. Passing goals are sustainable, screamers aren't."
"Good pass from Soeringer, though," said Ansehelm, who figured he should make a contribution.
Scale stared at him. "Soeringer? That's Stride, boss."
"Thought she'd retired. Wasn't it Soeringer who started the last game?"
"That's rotation. Jesus, you can tell you're a casual fan."
"Anyway, that's--" Scarlett got up on her toes and poked the looping GIF to pause it. "Yeah, see, that's a 2. So it's Stride."
Scale frowned. "Honestly, I thought it was Stride but that looks more like a 17 to me."
"Uh, who's the spotter in this company?"
"You sure the cloth isn't just folded weirdly?"
Staub shrugged. "Who can tell? She's like, three pixels at this quality."
Scarlett smiled. "Maybe I'm just that--"
Down the road, the gun-truck exploded.

[Graintfjall]

Græntfjall – 0 (0)
B. Ernestisson; T. Ernestisson, Jokulsson, Reynarsson, Vilbertsdóttir; Miansdóttir (45’ Ísarrsson ); Álvgeirsdóttir, Guttisdóttir (54’ Finnvarðsdóttir ), Kristoffersdóttir (51’); Jonathansdóttir, Þórhallursson (88’ Bergmundursson )

Cassadaigua – 1 (0)
Frontiera (58’)

After all the jubilation of a successful qualifying campaign, the stark reality of being in the World Cup finals is that it’s finally time to be judged against the top teams in the world. Cassadaigua and Starblaydia were the highest ranked teams in international football that the Snow Wolves had never played a competitive game against – they’ve met the Fillies in one friendly that finished a 1 – 1 draw and the Purple Peril not at all. And after their performance in Fort Viljan against the first of these two, it’s clear that the gap in quality is still to be bridged.

It was a tight game with few chances given away. Cassadaigua’s central midfield stars dominated possession and bullied Amanda Guttisdóttir and Jade Miansdóttir off the ball, but couldn’t put a final scoring play through. For the Snow Wolves, the defenders held the line well and Emeli Vilbertsdóttir was the brightest spark pushing forward, providing the cross that produced the best chance of the game from the blue-and-white. Close to the hour mark the pressure told, however, with a good run and great cross from Preston Newfeld, Rachel Schanke turning a header back across goal, and Jenna Frontiera beating Stefan Jokulsson to the ball. 1 – 0 Fillies, and they never looked back.

To Igrene Cantor’s irritation, Sara Kristoffersdóttir picked up a cheap yellow and will be suspended for the final game, which will see the first ever meeting of Starblaydia and Græntfjall. If the Snow Wolves lose, their tournament is over after an ill-spent week having barely left the country; a draw will leave them staring at the screen for the other result, and a win assures progression. It leaves the team unable to play defensively for the draw lest the Fillies slip up against the Polkopians who held world #6 ranked Starblaydia to a thrilling 4–4 scoreline, and missing one of their main creative threats. Jade Miansdóttir, who picked up a niggle and did not appear for the second half, is also unlikely to play against Starblaydia. Could other changes be afoot as the Snow Wolves mount their last stand?

---

Igrene Cantor collared Jason Þórhallursson on his way back from morning gym. Not figuratively, “collared”, a nod to have a word in her office, a tactical tilt of the coffee cup across the lobby; she literally collared him. Walked up to him, reached up all 6’4”, grabbed the scruff of his shirt, and hauled to him by her office by the fucking collar. Over the last few months the two had got to know each other well for him to know when she was kidding around. He recognised this was not one of those times.

“Going to work on your defending at practice today? Or taking set pieces? We’re down a defensive midfielder, going to try out?”

“I…”

“No? No. I imagine you’ll be practising scoring goals. Because that’s what we pay you to do. It is literally your one fucking job. The others, they can have a good game with few nice passes, brave tackles, name nowhere near the fucking scoresheet. You?” She jabbed him in the sternum with her finger, perhaps in case there was any doubt whom she was addressing, though he really wasn’t remotely confused about that. “All I fucking need from you is a goal. And when’s the last fucking time you actually managed that?”

His Nepharan fuck-o-meter was firmly in the red at this point, so he desisted from replying Oh, I don’t know, how about when we beat the number one team in the world? and instead kept a tactical silence.

“What is it with you and big tournaments? Every fucking Copa you’re nowhere to be fucking found. We won a fucking Cup of Harmony while you were off enjoying yourself at a rave.”

On a secret jungle rescue mission, he wisely did not correct her, as much as anything to avoid having to reveal how much of his own piss he’d ended up drinking during that particular adventure.

“Every World Cup qualifying campaign, goals out your fucking arse. And now, in a World Cup close enough to Græntfjall we’re practically on home soil, and you’re playing with your fucking laces tied together all over again.”

Even he knew he’d dining out on his Baptism of Fire hat-trick too long to bring that up. Still with the silence. Let her fuck herself out. Figuratively, this time.

“You know there are four fucking Græntfjall strikers who made team of the year last season? Golden Boots, MVP shortlists, actual fucking MVPs, and not fucking one of them named Jason Fucking Þórhallursson?”

The fuck-o-meter had gone past red into a part of the spectrum Jason couldn’t even name. But his restraint was winning out, and some of the energy and anger seemed to be leaving Igrene; at the very least, she wasn’t jabbing him quite as hard with her finger now. Her impromptu office set-up lacked some of the chaotic charm of the place back in Háttmark, but she was certainly putting her distinctive touch on it, with a mixture of scouting reports and eye-watering vulgarities scrawled across the whiteboard in the corner. She sank back behind the desk, glowering, but no longer shouting – and out of range of physical attack (though he wouldn’t put it past her to vault the desk and throttle him if he tried to bring up the goals he’d scored in CoH79).

“If this is your way of telling me to shape up, then message received. Where do you think I’ve just come from?” He gestured at the sweaty towel across his shoulder. “I wasn’t watching morning cartoons.”

“This is my way,” she said calmly and without swearing, and Jason immediately realized both those qualities made this far, far worse, “Of telling you that I’m starting Justiina.”

His eyebrow trembled as he risked it: “I’m sure Eiríka will be disappointed to hear that.”

“No. She won’t.”

Over the last few months the two had got to know each other well for him to know when she was kidding around. And he recognised this was still not one of those times.

He nodded. “Gotcha.”

---

OOC: I have no idea how the time differences line up here. Just… just go with it.

Kaija Michaelsdóttir awoke with a groan. Her fiancé was prodding her.

“You’re vibrating,” he murmured sleepily.

The phone was in the second drawer of her dresser. She answered it as she slipped from the hotel bedroom into adjoining corridor and across to the bathroom.

“Can this wait?” she said. “I’m on holiday, with the man I love.”

“Oh? I thought you were with your husband.” Zóphonías Juliusson’s joke was cruel, though perhaps it cut closer to the bone given she’d sleepily forgotten Guðjón was her husband, not her fiancé. Cruelty wasn’t Zóphonías’s style; she realized he sounded drunk.

“Go to bed, Mr Prime Minister. Whatever it is can wait until it’s morning for both of us.”

“Thirty years. Thirty years the people have waited for a leftist government. Not the monstrosities of communism, a government for the people, a government for jobs and healthcare, to help them put food on the table and heat their homes and still have enough for a little dignity. For bread and roses. Thirty years they’ve waited for that. And instead they got this.”

He was really drunk. She fumbled for words. “Events, dear boy, events?”

“And what an event. Have you seen tomorrow’s ND?”

She hadn’t, but pulled it up on her phone – her other phone, the one that wasn’t three inches thick and supposedly impervious to interception (though she had her doubts this wasn’t all being listened to avidly by a bunch of perverts sequestered in some dank GIB sub-basement). “Wow.”

The tabloid ND was running a picture of a vast tide of refugees, flocking at the border fence on the Viljan peninsula. A hundred deep in every direction. Ethnic Kitarans, fleeing the chaos and violence, just wanting – well, just wanting bread and roses, really – and hoping to find them in Græntfjall. The headline read in stark lettering: HUMAN PLAGUE. “I’m just surprised they consider them human.”

He chuckled, that deep wonderful laugh of his, so at least he wasn’t irretrievably lost in his cups.

Kaija continued scrolling. Just below the article – hundreds of thousands of Kitarans headed for the border, government inaction, Blue-Greens call for camps where refugee intake can be “concentrated”, blah blah – was another headline. “Cantor benches Þórhallursson for crucial World Cup decider. Is the Nepharan trying to distract from her managerial failings by shifting blame to…”

Figures it’d be the angle they’d take; ND had always been a Gunzlach paper. It was grim, how Igrene Cantor could lead the Snow Wolves to a Cup of Harmony and a first ever World Cup finals as the “Græntfjaller manager” but the moment results turned, she was “Nepharan”. Which, she was, but pointing it out had the ring of leaning into recent geopolitical tensions rather than strictly footballing analysis.

“What do you think?”

His voice jolted her back. He’d been talking for perhaps a minute. Her mind had been – elsewhere.

“I’m sorry?”

“I fought for my country. I was tortured and imprisoned and exiled. And they call me unpatriotic, because I won’t send young men and women to die in a meaningless power squabble? Why is the only way to be patriotic to volunteer your countryfolk to spill their blood?”

David Austmannsson had been a prick to deal with but sometimes she missed his cold-blooded directness. She’d never had to deal with poetry when talking with him. Or morality, compassion, basic humanity, all those messy complications.

Which made her realize – she was the David Austmannsson now. Compared to Zóphonías, at least. She was the calculator, the one who a day ago had been pitching a covert assassination to the Banijans. And who had received back the answer, a couple of hours ago – no. They wouldn’t sanction the attempt, not with tensions mounting with Eura and Nephara.

She tuned back into Zóphonías. He was now on the one about democracy wilting under the shadow of the military-industrial complex. She tuned out again, and began thumping her head against the wall.

[Tumbra]

Tikariot 2 - 3 Tumbra

TMB (4-2-3-1): 1 - John Lennon; 2 - Ryan Hughes, 20 - Stephen Kerr (4 - Ian Ashburn, 72'), 5 - Harry Henderson, 19 - Russell White (3 - Chris Carter, 81'); 6 - Vincent Hicks, 15 - Alan Morgan (20 - Trudy Harrison, 78'), 10 - Phil Cole; 7 - George Hilton, 9 - Robin Vaughn; 22 - Nigel Erskine

TMB goalscorers: Nigel Erskine (64', 85'), Russell White (81')

Player of the Match: Nigel Erskine (TMB)

Link to arc home
defender meets midfielder: season 4, part 4
static

did you remember to sign up for the community outreach thing?
uhhhh
cmon
did you
uhhhhhhh
you didn’t.
i forgot...
...you really didn’t.
would there have been consequences if i didn’t
yeah
ah fuck
uh
are signups closed
yes.
fuckfuckfuck
you’re lucky i knew this would happen
you did?
yeah. yeah, i did
so, stephen kerr
you’re coming with me to teach kids how to play football
but i barely know how to play football
fuck off lol
really it’s more of a kickabout
like
it’s for the kids, the ROYGs, yknow?
oh! oh.
it’s on friday.
yeah, sure
you’re a lifesaver, trudy
lol
you’re welcome

Dre’a

It was a rather different part of the city; in fact it wasn’t really Chromia at all. The buildings looked rather more worn down; they were older compared to the sleek architecture and shining city on top of a hill that was Chromia. Left behind? Perhaps. Stephen had heard murmurs of there being political change at the top — something about a new light — but hadn’t paid much heed to it.

It turned out that this was a rather popular activity to do; and the bus that was carrying the players and the coaches turned out to have more than just Chromatik footballers. Representatives from all three Chromia clubs were here; about ten players along with coaches from their clubs.

Nor had he really paid much attention in social studies class when they’d dissected the Chromatik Rainbow Revolution. That, he thought, was for the swots of the class to do well; he’d rather focus on easier things, like maths or chemistry. Somehow those two always fell into place for him; and it was always going to be his backup plan if the football hadn’t panned out.

He guiltily scrolled through the relatively long Online Encyclopedia article; reading about the class segregations of the old Chromatik Party regime, the Institutional Division, and all of the other various atrocities committed by them. Maybe he should have paid attention during social studies class.

“Reading up on the old Chromatik Party?” came a voice from behind him.

Stephen turned around to find Kattie Will glancing at his phone screen, her head popping over the seat.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Hmmm. There’s only so much the encyclopedia can tell you, let’s be honest. How ‘bout I tell you more?"

“Sure.”

“So, where we’re heading — where we just reached, actually, Dre’a — it’s one of the less privileged places in Chromatika. Where the party used to house the labourers. The Reds.”

“It’s been twenty years. Surely there’s got to have been some kind of change by now? I mean…”

“Look for yourself, Stephen...sometimes change takes more than a revolution and a generation. There have been people who’ve made it as Reds — hell, just look at Enigma Armageddon, the national team captain. Born a Red. But his success story masks just how many other Reds are...still stuck here. People like to think of Chromatika as someplace that’s shed the shackles of its past, left it behind, and is now slowly marching on the road of progress, freedom, and towards the future. But sometimes I look at places like this and suddenly I’m not so sure.”

“Darn.”

“The CFF likes these kinds of things. You know, about how football brings hope, passion to everyone in Chromatika. That’s why they’ve roped all three Chromia clubs in. You know, sometimes I think we put club identity above all other things a bit too much…”

The team bus had dropped the relatively big contingent off near a community centre; this was something, at least, that looked relatively new; perhaps it was the brighter lights, or the style of architecture that stood out. Stephen walked besides Ami and Trudy, who were animatedly chatting about the kids they were working with.

“So...teaching them to play football?”

“Yeah! It’s a great way to give back to the community. Football’s a unifying activity for everyone here, because all you need is a ball. You don’t need hockey sticks, or a giant field, or a net high in the sky. Easy to pick up. Easy to access.”

“And they’re really good at it, too.”

“...surely you did something like this when you were with Straton, Stephen?” Trudy enquired. “I mean, when I was with Kingsbury, we used to do things like these as well. I taught young girls how to play football, even as I told them not to become a footballer.”

“Not to become a footballer, Trudy! How could you?”

“Until recently the life of girls in football was a tough one. I’d considered hanging up my boots, actually, until...y’know…” Trudy’s voice trailed off. “A-anyway, Stephen. You must have done community work with Straton?”

“I mean, yeah, we did. I mostly went with the homework help people, though. People like Dan, Leo...they were more likely to see themselves teaching people to play football.”

“Nerd."

“Hey!”

Trudy and Ami shared a giggle as they enjoyed Stephen’s look of indignation.

“Seriously, though, I think you’ll have a lot of fun. Not to mention the consequences if you hadn’t signed up for an event.”

“Y’know, maybe next time I’ll go back to homework help.”

“Tough luck, Stevie, I signed you up for the entire year.”

“I-what? Huh? I can’t —”

“Relax, you haven’t even been to the first session yet. You’re not meant to teach them how to be a Red League footballer, just...some basic skills. Although I think this batch has advanced beyond that a bit.”

“Yeah, they’re really advancing fast. I think the club was talking about offering trials to one or two of them…”

An Hour Later

The training session was in full swing; Stephen was working with the twelve to thirteen year olds, and was mainly helping them pass the ball accurately as they took shots at a smaller goal. He wasn’t doing the bulk of the teaching, thankfully; the youth coaches were the main teachers at the session, and he was just there as a training partner for them. And as a demonstration unit; though he got the feeling the kids were awe-struck by his very presence.

Reds, Oranges, Yellows, Greens...they’d long been the underclass of Chromatik society. The labourers, farmers, manufacturers, merchants. The Rainbow Revolution had given them hope of a new life; and their lot certainly had improved with the advent of democracy. But it certainly hadn’t felt like a massive improvement; even at the age of thirteen they were still considerably thinner than some kids he’d seen in Chromia. Was this what inequality looked like? Twenty years sounded like a long time — after all, it was how long he’d been alive.

Yet in each of their eyes he saw hope; to be able to forget their worries, and troubles, and to have fun on a football pitch, interacting with their heroes in real life. These smiles, they were ones of genuine happiness, radiating energy; and he fist-bumped each one of them as the coaches sent them off for a water break. He couldn’t help but smile looking at them. Maybe this wasn’t so bad, after all; he was just here, in the warm autumn air, teaching kids how to play football.

His eyes wandered across the large field where training was taking place. There was Ami, patting some kids on the back, showing her skills with the ball to the kids. Wowing them. There were other drills going on, of course. Taron Matthews with seven other kids gathered in a circle, one in the middle, trying to intercept the ball. Lina Watt with some others, teaching them proper ball control. Justiina Dannysdóttir next to some mannequins set up for the teenagers to try and dribble against, and a goal...but he was looking for one person and one person only.

There she was. She was smiling, beaming from ear to ear, a bright ray of sunshine. She’d chosen to work with the even younger kids, and was high-fiving them every time they completed a task. Even from halfway across the field he could feel her energy, her smile; and he found himself focusing on it. On...her, too. The way she flipped her hair around her shoulder. The way she knelt down to talk to one of the kids who’d fallen over. There was something about the little things she did that...was...

“Hoy.”

“GAAAH!” Stephen yelped and instinctively took two steps back from the voice, but ended up stumbling and having to take a few more steps backward to steady himself. All while he was searching for the source of the voice; but he soon located Ami, who was looking at Stephen with a curious mix of bewilderment and bemusement. She’d approached him from behind, and had conveniently sidestepped to avoid Stephen stumbling around the pitch.

“You alright then?”

“Yeah, until you decided to just come up on me like that. Jesus, Ami! At least appear in front of me, not sneak up on me from behind.” Stephen had now turned towards Ami, away from Trudy, and tried his best to smile naturally.

“You’re acting...weird.”

“No! I’m not!”

“Uh huh. What’cha lookin’ at, then?”

Act dumb!

“Nothing, really. The night sky, uhh, the field! All the happy faces.”

You fucking idiot!

Ami looked nonplussed. “You seriously think that’ll work on me?” She walked towards Stephen, and turned him round such that he was facing Trudy again.

“You were looking at her, weren’t you?” she said with a half-knowing smile on her face.

“I...guess…”

“Look at you. Your face is red.”

“Is not.”

Ami slapped Stephen on the back. “Listen, Stephen. Trudy’s an amazing human being to be around. A wonderful human being in general. If you like her —”

“As a friend, I do —”

“— you should tell her.”

“I don’t like her in that way!”

“You two.” She shook her head and crossed her arms, a small smile on her lips. “If only you knew.”

“If only I knew what? Ami, I’m not going to jeopardise our friendship b-by catching feelings for her! Which I’m not going to!”

“Why was I cursed with such dumb team-mates — Look, if you give a thought — a single one to what I’ve been saying — maybe you wouldn’t be responding to me like you are, right now. I cannot believe —”

“I still don’t see —”

“Stephen Kerr, I’m allergic to stupidity, and it’s pouring out of your ears right now, so I’m going to take my leave.” Ami shook her head, lightly punched Stephen on his arm, and walked off.

What the fuck was that?

Trudy had sent the kids off for a break, as well, and he decided to hang out with her. Grabbing a drink from a nearby icebox would be a good conversation starter, he figured, as he took two; one for himself and one for —

Why’s my heart beating so quickly? Why do I need a drink to start a conversation with her?

He stared at the two drinks in his hand, wondering why he’d picked it up. But it was too late now — Trudy had noticed him walking over; and was smiling at him. She’d sat down on a bench, and was inviting him over to sit next to her. Gingerly clutching the drinks, he smiled and sat down on Trudy’s left.
“Aw. A drink. Awfully nice of you.”

“Y-uhhhhyeah. I’ve got two flavours. Uhh...which do you want?”

“I’ll take orange, thanks,” Trudy said, reaching for the drink in Stephen’s left hand. At the same time, he reached to give the drink to her, and their hands brushed against each other; a small shock leaped from Stephen’s hand to Trudy’s, but it just made his heart leap —and he clutched onto the drink even harder as his mind suddenly went blank.

“Stephen? Uh...Stephen? You alright?”

Stephen mumbled some sounds that vaguely sounded like yes, before Trudy’s fingers gently dislodged the drink from his fist.

“Stephen?”

“YeahimfineIthink.”

“Uh-huh. Is there...something? You’ve got that look on your face.”

“Nuh-nooothere’snot...nothing, no.”

“Alright then. You do look like you need a drink, though. Should...probably...drink that…” she motioned towards the purple bottle in Stephen’s hand. He took a glance at it, before uncapping it and taking a few sips.

“Look at me, Stephen…is everything okay?”

Slowly, gingerly, he looked up at Trudy, her face showing nothing but concern. She lifted a hand to Stephen’s face, brushed his fringe back on top of his head, before putting the back of her hand onto his forehead.

Stephen stared blankly into Trudy’s eyes. She peered inquiringly into his eyes, trying to determine what exactly happened.

“Stephen…” she said in a small voice.

“I’m fine,” he replied in an equally small voice. He seemed to recover; gently, if shakily, took Trudy’s hand and plucked it from his forehead. “I think the kids are coming back.”

“You’re obviously not fine. You’ve had an anxiety attack, or something —”

“I’ll-I’ll be okay.” Stephen conjured a weak smile, and stood up. “E-enjoy the drink, I guess,” he stuttered as he walked — no, ran, off, wondering what had just happened.

No, no, no, no, no…

TUMBRA vs PASARGA - WORLD CUP 89, MATCHDAY 3

Starters: 12 - Louis Addison; 2 - Ryan Hughes, 4 - Ian Ashburn, 5 - Harry Henderson, 19 - Russell White; 6 - Vincent Hicks, 8 - Craig McGrath, 16 - Leo Hooper; 17 - Neil Fraser, 9 - Robin Vaughn; 11 - Nick Riordan

Bench: 1 - John Lennon, 13 - Nick Barker; 18 - Jacob Keene, 14 - Louis Paterson, 20 - Stephen Kerr, 3 - Chris Carter; 10 - Phil Cole, 15 - Alan Morgan, 23 - Trudy Harrison; 7 - George Hilton, 21 - Lynne Crossley, 22 - Nigel Erskine

[Commonwealth of Baker Park]

Informal dining area in the State Apartments at St John's Palace, Belle Haven.

The Prime Minister and the Head of State were having their bi-weekly face to face sit down lunch meeting that was the routine during the period when the House of Assembly was adjourned for the year; they spoke on the phone nearly every other day, but this was the time when all of the serious business was discussed.

The way the legislative branch was set up in Baker Park, there was only a brief window when Parliament was technically not "in session"--following the completion of the five year term of the Assembly, when the entire legislature was 'dissolved' prior to a general election held in late October or early November, until the following January, when the Council of State resumed with the swearing in of the 7 new or returning members that had been selected for an 8 year term. The Assembly didn't begin until the first week of March, but the Council--which was the upper house of Parliament--was always considered to be sitting for the duration of the entire term. This was an anachronism that was left over from the pre-Commonwealth era, when the Council exercised legislative, executive and judicial power simultaneously.

Rebecca Schoenlien and Timothy Wentworth had a very good relationship in spite of their divergent backgrounds and experience; where the PM had nearly 20 years serving in the Assembly, the Head was a relative novice to national government, having spent nearly 30 years in state and local government in Ezra.

On this afternoon, the main area of discussion was the situation in central Rushmore, which was well beyond the sphere of influence of the Commonwealth but still needed attention due to the fact that Banija--their closest political and economic ally in Atlantian Oceania--did have interests in Nyowani Kitara.

"I cannot get my head around this idea that the goddamned Eurans think they can unilaterally quadruple the accepted territorial limit with their navy."

"If no one challenges them on it, they can do whatever they want. It's obvious that they are being led by the nose by the people in Corvistone, and unless there's some shift in the balance of power in the area, those two are going to go about their business of carving up the country into a pair of puppet states to exploit as they wish."

"What's Busukuma's next step? Are they going to force something?"

"They're being fairly coy about their plans with us. In one way that's good, because I don't want to have to contemplate having to let McKinney loose with the SpecOp force in support." McKinney was Gen David McKinney, head of the National Guard and also head of the Special Forces Directorate of the AORDO.
"I did say to the Isebantu that the Eurans sure have some shiny, nice warships in their fleet, it would be a shame if something...happened. To one of them. Like a minefield appearing overnight just at the edge of the exclusion zone."

"You are bad woman Bec," the Head retorted, laughing. "But we don't have anyone from CIS on the ground in Rushmore, do we?"

"No. Everything we're hearing is coming second hand via embassy people in the surrounding nations.".

[Brenecia]

Brenecia 3 - 4 Squidroidia
(4-3-3) 12 - Finnan; 17 - Shepherd, 5 - Leadbetter, 6 - Giltanan, 3 - Roscommon (c); 8 - Caitiff (23 - Conway 81'), 4 - Schofield (19 - Ondrejko 81'), 13 - Garrard; 7 - Carpenter, 9 - White, 16 - Russell (10 - Byrne HT')
Goals: Carpenter 12', Garrard 29', Byrne 58'

One game in, Brenecia were already teetering. It had been a punishing loss against South Newlandia, but... the two games left were against the third and fourth seed. There was still time to set things right and, Scathach Wright thought, no need to panic.
She was a believer in the systm, and her own part in it. The side looked good in training. Looked fit, which was handy since training had to be interrupted for an hour of running while the kit man went off to buy some new footballs. The shape was good, the tactics were right... Wright figured, anyway. She wasn't really tactical.
Ronan Schofield was, and the two of them were teammates at RCU. It was an environment they often felt quite nostalgic for, because they were surrounded there by better players, and had a realistic chance of winning things. Schofield was much more easy-going than Wright on the surface, but in truth they were equally driven to win, and the Patriots' malaise affected them both.
Of the two, Wright was the far more reliable soundbite, so when some journalist caught up to her to ask her about the campaign, she grunted and offered some reply. About the training conditions? Shit, but not the fault of anyone on the ground. Were Brenecia still competitive? Sure. Do you ever have doubts? No.
"What do you have to say about--" The journalist hustled to keep up, and wa by now distinctly breathless. "About the questions of your own form?"
"What questions?"
"Well, people have been asking questions."
Wright gave her a look. "People always ask questions. What do you expect me to say? I saved a penalty--"
"McCabe scored the rebound, anyway. And that header straight at you--"
"Weird bounce," said Wright sharply. "And Levy's was unsavable."
"Anthea Finnan has been in excellent form for her club. Are you at all worried about your place in the squad?"
"What? Of course not!"

Sienna Fallon really wished Wright would grind her teeth more quietly. It was getting really hard to focus on the game.
37 minutes in and she was feeling pretty vindicated. The Patriots were 2-0 up! Decent goals, too; a second from Carpenter, a beautiful curling effort that left Shingen without a chance, before Garrard showed both his power in wresting possession off Tadataka, then his ability to play a slick one-two with Caitiff and drill a shot past Shingen and in off the inside of the post. White had even come close a time or two, once air-swinging at a Shepherd cross, another time drawing a spectacular point-blank save. All this against a team they'd taken four points from over the course of qualifying. Things were looking up.
She'd look back at this moment, in time, and wonder where it all went wrong.
She'd wonder: how, despite all their drills - most of which had had footballs - sluggishness in passing the ball around the back, missing Wright's sharpness with the ball at her feet, lead to Casey Giltanan getting the ball, sleepily putting a heavy touch on it and letting Hideo snap the ball away from her and play in Ito to drive in Squidroidia's way back into the game.
She'd wonder: how, despite their substantial lead in height and size, did they let Moronobu slip unmarked through the sea of blue shirts to nod home a leveller just four minutes later.
She'd wonder: how, with their heads dropped and cursing all the way to the dressing room, how they somehow managed to rally. She'd felt real pride after that initial bumpy five minutes, culminating in a sharp save from Finnan, were followed by a sudden resurgence, Shingen's goal under siege, before Schofield slipped Byrne behind the lines for the winger to produce that moment of magic Fallon always believed her capable of.
And she'd wonder, most of all, how they still lost. Even when destiny at that point seemed on her side.
She would take the blame for it, but the tide had started to turn by then, Squidroidia managing more and more successfully to play through the midield. Yet she sat on her remaining substitutions until the strike from the substitute Kiichi levelled the scores once more, making the most when Giltanan compounded a poor game by missing a tackle. And when they did come, they came two at once. In Fallon's mind, she was freshening up a weary midfield, with Caitiff on a yellow card besides. With full benefit of hindsight, she was taking two of her most hardened, experienced players out of the centre of the park, and Squidroidia completely controlled the final ten minutes. It was little surprise to the neutral when Ashihei made it 4-3 with two minutes to go.
They got and largely squandered four minutes of extra time, the last of which was capped when Shingen raced off his line to confidently punch clear a cross from Shepherd. Conway got the ball and immediately played in Byrne, who shaped to shoot and for a moment, Brenecia fans could envision another moment of magic, as the shot arced beautifully over the defence, arrowing down towards goal over a backpedalling goalkeeper...
... and skimmed off the roof of the net. And with that, Brenecia were the first team eliminated from the tournament.

The navy blue shirts prowled through the Mixed Zone, disgruntled as journalists approached them looking for comment. Triss Roscommon fronted up the most willingly, taking one for the team as captain. "Obviously it's an immensely disappointing result, uhm, I'm not wholly sure of the permutations of qualifying, if there's any way... I think the draw makes it impossible."
"They scored four times from five shots on target," said a journalist. "Do you think that your backup goalkeeper--"
"She was starting on the night."
"-- bears any blame for the result?"
"Was Wright injured?" another asked, over the top of him, severely trying Roscommon's patience.
"Uhm. Look, Anthea's a fantastic player, the whole 23 are--"
"Do you think Erin Camden will finally be the Brenecia manager?"
Caitiff shot a question back, popping up over Roscommon's shoulder. "Do you think the BFA will really spring to pay out the remaining two years on Fallon's contract?" She walked away without waiting for an answer.
"Obviously my teammate is joking," said Roscommon, smacking Caitiff upside the temple as she left. "Look, we'll-- you'll have to wait for answers until the press conference, alright, we just have to lick our wounds after a raw defeat and, uh, we go again."
Yet there was one other player, a towering, glowering figure in a tracksuit, whose eyes lit up at the attention.
The nearest journalist had been waiting. "Do you think you could have stopp--"
The best-laid plans. Wright grabbed the man's hand and yanked the microphone closer, staring into what turned out to be the wrong camera. "I'd like to announce that, after my swansong next match, I'm retiring from international football to focus on my club career..."

[Squidroidia]

It was a team effort, nothing more, nothing less.

As Katua Byrne's shot touched the wrong side of the roof of the net, a dagger was plunged into the heart of the Patriots. Brenecia, who didn't lost to the Inklings in qualifying, went from going 2-0 up in the 29th minute to losing 4-3 in what would otherwise be known as Makino Hideo's return to Walstreim Park. Apart from an assist to Sho Itō to make things 2-1, the game wasn't about the skipper who was the best player in the South Newlandian Soccer League in his only season with the Lions.

There was Itō, yes, but three other players scored on that magical night in Walstreim. Umezaki Moronobu to make it 2-2, Ohashi Kiichi, who replaced Hideo after a seemingly off night cracking under the pressure of his return to such hallowed ground, answering Katua's padlock crack with a strike of his own, and the 31 year old from Inkopolis Football Club who capped off the scoring in the 89th minute to eliminate Brenecia from the World Cup.

Squidroidian football fans would now know Takara Ashihei as the man who made the knockout kick. The goal that made the Patriots, unbeaten in qualifying even if they drew in Inkopolis, fall down, and as the count went up, no matter how hard they tried, they couldn't get up. Byrne's last second shot was the final act of desperation from the Brenecians, but their head stayed down. KO. Brenecia's World Cup run this cycle ended 2 games in, and in some bizzare miracle, the Squidroidians, just hoping to have a good time and didn't see themselves advancing to the knockouts, standing in 2nd heading into New Colk and the matchup against the hosts.

Once press conferences did come around there was not much to say on the Squidroidian side, contrasting from the mutiny of the Brenecians and the international retirement of goalkeeper Scathach Wright after the Brenecians played their last game of the group stage against Ethane. The Brenecian press were going after Sienna Fallon's head after the defeat to a supposedly inferior Squidroidia team, while Adam Johnson was praised for another managerial masterclass on the sport's biggest stage. If qualifying by beating the Jungle Cats was a sign that the Barunian still had some gas left in the tank, this match was absolute confirmation, with Squidroidia having a chance to make the last 16 on their first attempt.

But it wasn't for certain. Squidroidia, along with Ethane, were both on 4 points, with South Newlandia at 3 points. A win or a draw for Squidroidia would see them through no matter what the result for the Ethane-Brenecia game was, but a loss against the hosts would eliminate the Inklings from the World Cup after a valiant run unless the Patriots put out the Flames hard enough. But again, nothing was for certain. The first 3 teams to punch their tickets to the knockout stage were Nephara, Farfadillis and Tumbra. First time finalists Tumbra. Defending champions Turori were in danger of missing out of the last 16, while The Holy Empire, who made the final in World Cup 88, need a miracle from Cthulhu to advance. And they are in a group with Vdara, Kelssek and Twicetagria. Anything can surely happen at this point.

If Pemecutan and Tumbra have chips on their shoulders, the Squidroidians certainly can.

---

I'm back, I guess...?
I guess a lot happened while I was gone.
By Shotclocking Supersquid

Leaving the Internet behind because even your own nation's football association was against you seemed like a good idea. That and blocking out all the Omericans and Squornshelans who were hounding you for even suggesting a what-if. Ever since that FFI Super League incident I have really flown under the radar. I told you all before Matchday 18 of qualifying that I didn't want to incite a rebellion of Leader Takanori's government. I still don't want to do that, not now or then or ever. But I have been checking up on the Squidroidian national team during my absence. Apparently we are in the World Cup proper. And we are actually pretty damn good.

It was probably due to the fire that was lit under us after losing to Moliza and drawing to Kohnhead at the Chicken King Stadium, but Matchday 18 felt like a lucid dream. How in the ever-lasting heavens did Le Choix hold HUElavia out to a 0-0 draw? This was our rivals we are talking about, they should've beaten this team and sneaked into 2nd but it turns out WE were the ones who got 2nd place. And that was before we became Team 32, before that shootout in Vilita against the Jungle Cats. No words could describe the feeling fully to you. Making the World Cup was an experience all in its own.

And yet somehow we are 2nd in a group with the hosts, a literal ball of fire and a Brenecia team we just beat. I am literally writing this after the Brenecia game, and I don't know what I was thinking when Mito got fired after that disastrous Cup of Harmony campaign, but I didn't know his replacement was this good. Apparently he once went to the last 16 with his home nation Barunia a long time ago, certainly in the Inkhalla days, but even I, even after seeing the voodoo magic we pulled out of our butts in qualifying, didn't think he would do that again.

I don't know if I'll ever go back to making what if scenarios (The FFI Super League fiasco did that much damage to me), but if this is really me returning, then welcome back. I am again sorry for that whole ordeal, but let's not get back into that mess now. We still have this World Cup cycle and the domestic games and literally everything surrounding the Squidroidian national team and football in general (Maybe I could talk about the SFA's reforms for the Squidroidian Super League), so just sit back, relax, and get ready for the ride of a lifetime. Granted, if we do win against South Newlandia, which I fully doubt at this point, but one never knows. See ya.

[Zwangzug]

The Spenson Star

Even those Zwangzug fans without much knowledge of the geopolitical scene may have some knowledge of qualifying group ten. There's Poafmersia, who made their debut here in Baptism of Fire 71, and are now second seeds in the Cup of Harmony. The Sarian, whose clubs have enjoyed success in the FFI. The Kytler Peninsulae, longtime friendly rivals in a variety of sports. Mytanija, known for their boisterously left-wing fans, and also drawn against Zwangzug in the World Cup proper.

There are also Siovanija and Teusland, whose national team may have been underwhelming, but who still boast a strong domestic league with many local rivalries that have now taken on global significance. The "Atoms" of Energija Chernovets are no longer just the pride of a closed city; they boast a cosmopolitan lineup with players from Schottia to Chromatika. And just as Matchday One provided a high-stakes reunion between Emiliano Gallegas of Farfadillis and Zwangzug's Akhil Sibal, the second match thrust Jezdemir Ocokoljic of Mytannion into the spotlight. This time, however, it would be Zwangzug who came out on top, setting up a must-win match against Valanora for Matchday Three (no pressure).

Ocokoljic and company would have the balance of possession in the first half, his physicality making it difficult for Jaclyn Burkhart or Junia McCue to tackle him in midfield. Mytanija's best chance would come after a creative dribbling run from their captain, Jasno Odonelec, who sliced through the box to set up Damien Gannot at close range--but Fedya Troy-Vee reflexively got his fingers to it, then dove onto Ocokoljic's rebound to stop play and give Zwangzug time to breathe. Shortly after, Esther Axelrod-Conway drew a yellow card for an overly aggressive challenge on Tahir Fejzuli, who's her domestic teammate in, where else, Farfadillis. Fejzuli took the ensuing free kick himself, but it was a listless effort easily cleared by Sibal.

The second half would provide not only respite from the vaguely-incestuous state of affairs, but also more solid offensive efforts from Zwangzug. When the breakthrough came, it was from a trio of homegrown men who have not risen to the level of their more distinguished Testículos counterparts. [editor's note: wut] Simon Gannett, after heading away an Odonelec cross, kept it low and passed to Farrokh Sokhi, who evaded traffic in midfield and outpaced the aging Mojmir Anac, then set up Gordon Blum for the only goal of the game in minute 55. From there, Zwangzug attempted to keep the ball low to neutralize Mytanija's height advantage (probably for the best that Riley Kivrin is no longer active), which they accomplished successfully. In defeating Mytanija 1-0, they exactly matched the Marauders' performance from the first match--but Valanora held Farfadillis to two goals rather than three, which means they only need a draw from the critical third game to advance.

At least the visiting fans seem to be enjoying themselves, despite the literal war zone to the east. "Last time I was here [WBC51] I was being screwed with by some sanctimonious progressive AI [Zwangzug's ill-fated social credit model] so anything's better, honestly," said Clara Redmon. "I mean, I guess the existence of a literal war going on next door is worse, but come on, do I look like one of those empaths who keeps up with what's going on in every other freakin' nation?"

"Getting to visit the Temple of the Crow was neat, and given the capacity I was very lucky to get tickets," said Christopher Ruhl-Ehlens. "Maybe it was built by South Newlandians." The imposing mountainous stadium is one of Tikariot's landmarks; perhaps the high altitude will favor players used to Wayr Stadium treks, although we can't honestly say we do that often enough for it to make a difference.

"I heard that there might be a small number of Kitaran refugees moving up to the Shorn area," speculated Henrik Magnussen, settling on an unconvincing pronunciation of "Kitara" after trying and failing at three others. "Why they would have to go all the way to Zwangzug when there are plenty of non-hellhole countries between here and there, I don't know. But the population numbers are so exorbitant these days I guess I could believe a rounding error."

"You know what's bleeping hilarious? The idea of Ossidiacqua getting annoyed at a naval blockade," cackled the less-than-sympathetic Isabella Lukeba. "I mean, they're the ones with the timewall problems. You think they're gonna be deterred by a couple of boats in the same temporal continuity as everyone else?"

At press time, the empaths who keep up with what's going on in every other freakin' nation were having a bad day.

[Ko-oren]

Has THIS ever happened to you?

[Act I]

[Scene I]

Luxurious office/board room. In the window behind the mahogany table, a football pitch is clearly visible.

CHAIRMAN, a grey man in a suit, sits in board room. He is talking to someone else through a conference call system on the table.

CHAIRMAN: "I'm glad we could reach a concensus. We will sell our star striker to you for two million En Es Dee."

CONFERENCE CALL SYSTEM: "Pleasure doing business with you. We're looking forward to seeing more from [star striker]"
(notes: come up with name)

(more notes: come up with name that is not a clear ripoff of Val Kylx)
CONFERENCE CALL SYSTEM: "beep beep" (call has ended)

CHAIRMAN: "Heh heh heh. [Star striker] is clearly only worth one million and four hundred thousand, max! What a rip off. A day well spent."

[End Scene I]

I'm sure you've complained about your favourite club letting a player go for a low price. But to what extent is that because the player is bad, or because your club is bad at negotiating? Or are there darker powers at work? What if... your league naturally yields lower transfer fees than others? Which clubs command higher transfer fees just for being in a certain league? Let's find out.

Chapter B. Which leagues are most expensive?

The first thing that catches the eye is that sorting by league instead of nationality (see Chapter 1) is that the numbers are... pretty much the same. As in, the average NSD that a league sells its players for is similar to the NSD that nationalities sell for. The actual nations at the top are (slightly) different, though. We can still distill some good lessons from the upcoming list: STOP OVERPAYING FOR PLAYERS IN VALLADARES, BAKER PARK, MYTANIJA, OR NEPHARA. These nations all have 4 million or more per transfer. Seeing how the Nepharan system sold 220 players over that time, to their average of just about 4 M NSD, that's 885 million NSD! That money could send tens of thousands of kids to school. But you're right, football's more important.

The top ten (filtering out leagues that have only contributed one or two transfers to the Machine that Must Keep Churning out Talent for a Football Economy that Runs on Blood and Sweat) contains the following: Sajnur, Valladares, Baker Park, Mytanija, USR, Nephara, Equestria, Brenecia, Siovanija and Teusland, and Banija. Basically, if you're a fan of a league that's not in here, either move your club there or hire a financial department from one of these places. Some prolific leagues fall just out of the top 10: Vilita (11th), Cassadaigua (12th), Audioslavia (15th), and loads more. Indusse is ranked 14th - which, given their spot on the KPB rankings, is a little inflated. But not as badly as Sajnur's, ranked 83rd in KPB yet top of the world in average athlete selling price. Other leagues that have a low associated national team but a high income on player sales are generally those that haven't entered their national team in an official competition in a while, so while I'd love to call them out for it, there's little vindication in that.

And, because I know you just want to find where you stand on this:

From clubs in	count	$ sum (M NSD)	Average (M NSD)
ALE	1	13	13
NEW	1	10	10
LRN	1	9	9
SAJ	6	32	5,333333333
VLD	38	183,65	4,8
CBP	20	84,2	4,2
MYT	23	96,45	4,2
USR	3	12,5	4,166666667
NPH	220	885,28	4,0
EQS	15	56,81	3,8
BRE	83	301,65	3,6
STL	55	197,65	3,6
BNJ	36	118,8	3,3
VIL	10	31,65	3,2
CDG	32	101,1	3,2
TAE	38	119,4	3,1
ELC	1	3	3
INS	3	8,8	2,933333333
AUD	124	355,96	2,9
EUR	172	474,825	2,8
PFA	64	175,85	2,7
KHD	4	10,75	2,6875
SHT	9	23,3	2,588888889
SCT	24	62	2,6
DAR	2	5	2,5
TEQ	33	82,35	2,5
TMR	3	7	2,333333333
MVT	3	7	2,333333333
JUE	18	41,75	2,3
TWI	3	6,8	2,266666667
EFL	7	15,8	2,257142857
KRY	26	57,5	2,2
HUA	11	22,99	2,1
KSK	49	101,85	2,1
KOR	50	103,8543816	2,1
CRY	9	18,55	2,061111111
SRS	126	257,45	2,0
SVJ	42	85,4	2,0
TSA	1	2	2
KND	17	33,91	2,0
EOT	9	17,3	1,922222222
QAD	6	11,3	1,883333333
ZRH	99	180,295	1,8
RCN	2	3,6	1,8
QUE	107	184,05	1,7
STB	7	11	1,571428571
ETN	32	50,22	1,6
FVA	41	63,25001	1,5
SNL	102	155,67	1,5
SYL	59	90,02	1,5
JEC	1	1,5	1,5
HVY	2	3	1,5
SQR	14	20,15	1,4
PAS	80	109,65	1,4
GRF	53	69,34	1,3
AHR	4	5,2	1,3
HTK	3	3,8	1,266666667
TMB	42	53,05	1,3
XAN	35	44,15	1,3
OAM	16	20,05	1,3
CMT	230	277,95	1,2
MRC	3	3,36	1,12
ASG	45	50,3	1,1
NWK	16	17,85	1,1
SOR	23	24	1,0
TKT	183	183,49	1,0
OSC	1	1	1
GLZ	1	1	1
SVG	47	46,95	1,0
MRN	28	27,85	1,0
TLI	57	56,126	1,0
MUR	27	26,45	1,0
HIN	33	31	0,9
ASU	7	6,5	0,9285714286
FET	4	3,5	0,875
MVE	7	6	0,8571428571
GAR	1	0,8	0,8
CYI	7	5,6	0,8
NRH	13	10,3	0,8
MRT	12	9,5	0,8
VAL	91	71,45	0,8
YZH	26	20,25	0,8
CBZ	2	1,55	0,775
HSP	2	1,5	0,75
NAC	6	4,4	0,7333333333
DEL	30	21,1	0,7
PYA	14	9,8	0,7
SWR	3	2,1	0,7
VDA	3	2,1	0,7
PCU	1	0,7	0,7
ISK	6	4,15	0,6916666667
GVN	22	15,2	0,7
ZWZ	21	14,5	0,7
QOD	2	1,35	0,675
AMH	5	3,3	0,66
ERM	1	0,5	0,5
BOL	15	6,9	0,5
BRO	10	4,4	0,4
NOV	6	2,6	0,4333333333
FPT	2	0,75	0,375
ESL	3	1	0,3333333333
JOV	1	0,3	0,3
SFD	10	2,2	0,2
VDR	2	0,4	0,2
TIO	19	2,5	0,1
LFD	1	0,1	0,1
GCU	2	0,05	0,025
FFD	14	0	0,0
PLK	2	0	0
TJU	1	0	0
ZUG	2	0	0
TUR	1	0	0
GGU	2	0	0
TXA	8	0	0
SQU	21	0	0,0
CBX	2	0	0
OME	1	0	0
N/A	3	0	0
LCX	2	0	0
SPM	1	0	0
MAR	5	0	0
SHR	1	0	0
NYK	3	0	0
COS	3	0	0
--	1	0	0
Muralos	1	0	0
DCA	1	0	0
DEM	1	0	0
---	1	0	0
QUS	12	0	0,0
QMI	1	0	0
	3	0	0
BUS	1	0	0
VAL-->HVY	1	0	0
JUV	2	0	0
SRG	2	0	0
MVN	1	0	0
POP	4	0	0
NQU	1	0	0
MTJ	2	0	0
HUE	4	0	0
FLV	1	0	0
NLA	2	0	0
KNR	3	0	0

Damn you undisclosed transfer fees

[Cassadaigua]

The time is now,
By Jenna Frontiera, Forward

A lot of people talk to me about being the future of the soccer team up front, and that I will take over for Rachel Schanke when she retires, assuming she actually will ever retire! I respect those opinions, but I am not really here to be about the future, or be the person the nation pins their hopes on in World Cup 90 or 91. That assumes I am fortunate enough to stay healthy to even be there in those World Cups, but right now I am all about the present. This team that I am a part of right now has the potential to do a lot of great things and to be the ones hoisting the World Cup at Dhaencunor Arena in Tikariot City. Why not us? Do you have someone else in mind? Yeah, there are seven teams that are ranked ahead of us, and one of them is not even here. The others, well, they have a great shot too, but none of them intimidate us. We are the perfect mix of age, experience, and youth. We can win with offense, and win with defense. Whatever the flow of the game may be, and wherever it takes us, we can adapt and get it done. So can those other six teams that are supposedly better than us on paper, but we can be right there with them.

Look at us up front. You have Rachel Schanke, the chick who has been through it all. She has played in two World Cups at home and is a complete frickin’ icon in our country. Her grandmother led us to two World Cups. You think Rachel wants to finish her career without one? I swear, the hunger that woman has to win the World Cup is as intense as one can ever feel. I had an analogy made up for that, but it could offend some people. Anyway, you get my point. Playing beside her up front, that has been absolutely incredible. I am always confident that I can get the job done, but with Rachel near me, it’s like all of my coaches I have ever had in life are right there with me. Of course it has made me a better player. So, yes, you know Cassadaigua can score goals, but we can score them with more than just forwards. We’ve put four behind the keepers thus far, and all four have been by a different player. Who the hell is going to be the next hero on our team? Good luck trying to figure that out.

The midfield of this team is frickin’ amazing. Meghan Wolcott, such an electrifying player that can do it all, what more can you say. Scoring, passing, jump balls, tackling, and swagger, what else can you ever want. So versatile, so able to adapt, and anyone who follows this team for a while knows that while Rachel Schanke scores the most goals on this team and is our captain, in many ways it is Meghan who is the heart and soul of this team. The one who supplies the grit and makes sure no one lets up. That’s Meghan. She’s also 33, and I really hope that I will be able to continue playing with her, too. She wants a World Cup, and she really deserves one. We have Preston Newfeld, our male wizard, who is also 33, a common age on this team, I suppose, but he is an underrated component. And look at this, I have not even mentioned Morgan Rosenblatt, yet. That’s right, the one who will be my partner in crime on this team for many years, the same way that Wolcott and Schanke have enjoyed, has had a great qualifying and Cup campaign thus far. The time is now because we are all here, together, for the here and now.

Starblaydia found out that we could score goals. Graintfjall found out that we could play defense, and that goes without saying with the group of people that we have in the back. Michelle (Graves) and Katie (Standish) have started together since World Cup 86, making the left side of our defense as stout as one could ask for, but don’t go thinking our right side is weak because Summer (Speers) has thrived since going to Chromatika, and one of my best friends in the game who plays with me on Brattleboro FC, Caitlyn Kaleta is willing to push people around and make them regret that they tried to challenge her. Caitlyn and I, as people know in Brattleboro, are often inseparable, and we have helped one another in many ways, whether on the soccer field or off the field.

So that brings me to my final point, those who think I have an attitude problem. I told some scrub on Tamgu that he better get used to losing right to his face after I scored on him, then not too long later, scored on him again. I got carded for taunting, but whatever, that’s my game. First of really, think about Tamgu. Have you ever heard of that country before they were in our World Cup qualifying group? Their nation was so unprepared for qualifying that they didn’t even supply a list of names for their team. So, if you are upset that I called that defender a loser and taunted their team, just think about the disrespect their own nation gives their players. I didn’t taunt anyone on Graintfjall after my 58th minute goal, did I? Of course not, because I respect that team. I respect Stefan Jokulsson. He’s a good player and his team is certainly on the rise so they get respect that Tamgu has not earned. Our next opponent is Polkopia. No, they were not a nation that many of us knew of before the World Cup either, but I’ll tell you this about Polkopia: they’ve frickin’ earned it. (I have to keep expletives out the blog, I was told but you know what I would want to say). They weren’t even ranked before this damn Cup. But those guys stepped up and in a group with Baker Park, Jerusalem, and other assorted underachievers like Flavovespia, they got here. They took a point against Starblaydia, who can’t seem to play defense. How did they do this? Training. Hard work. Commitment and drive. Plus, I’ve noticed their media has a great graphics department. That’s how you get respect. Tamgu losers need to watch and learn, success is not just handed to you. So no, I do not feel I have an attitude problem. I may have an attitude, but it’s not a problem.

Matchday 3 at the Mountain Fortress? Yeah, we’ll be freezing our butts off again, but by now both us and Polkopia are used to it. The scenery is pretty cool, I’m actually typing this from a hotel room with an incredible view at the moment. Soon, there will be a meaningful soccer game, and as I have said, our time is now. The future can wait, we want THIS Cup!

[Mytanija]

Lev Repin wondered if he had overthought things. Tahir Fejzuli had made over 100 appearances for Mytanija for a reason, after all. The Farfish press wondered where the playmaker was too, questioning just how the Mâ Âlâmëómë midfield maestro couldn’t make the Mytanar starting eleven despite regularly figuring in the line-up for one of the greatest teams in club football. It was a tough decision to leave him out and one Repin hadn’t taken lightly, against teams with the quality of Valanora, Farfadillis and Zwangzug he felt like he would need a little bit more steel, a little bit more control in the centre of the pitch. Fejzuli was many things, but even his most ardent backers would struggle to say those were two things he added in abundance. He could win games with his passing, breaking down committed defences with his vision, but to do that he needed to take risks. Repin didn’t particularly want to take risks against these sort of opponents, they could punish errors in a moment and the Hoops – and Bigger Mbala-Ekakia specifically – had discovered that the hard way against Valanora.

Tahir had taken it well when he had told him that he would be preferring Mersudin Smajic for the first game at the World Cup. He was an experienced player and he knew that there was no hard feelings. He was an intelligent player, but also an intelligent person. He understood what Repin was trying to explain to him, Smajic was a bigger physical presence and his style of play was about retaining possession, recycling it and letting the team build-up in a considered way. Tahir knew that wasn’t really his game, he was disappointed, but the manager’s reasoning was pretty fair. With Lev Repin these sort of things were rarely personal and although Vilim Kupresak had felt his wrath for comments in the media at one time even those bridges had been mended a little while after. Repin got on well with his players.

But that didn’t mean that he always made the right decisions and following the game against Valanora it wasn’t only the media in Farfadillis that was unsure if leaving Fejzuli on the bench had been the right thing to do. Mytanija had played the opener and whilst they had kept things tight, only losing 1-0, it did appear as if they lacked that decisive pass from midfield to create a real clear-cut chance. So Lev Repin made the decision that he would start Tahir against Zwangzug. It was the match they needed to win the most, against the team that Mytanija should theoretically be the most closely-matched with, if you put much stock in the world rankings anyway. It was the sort of encounter where that well-weighted pass through the lines might make the difference… A game made for Tahir Fejzuli. Repin also decided that he would go with experience at the back, Bigger Mbala-Ekakia had had an excellent couple of years but he had made a big error against Valanora and it had resulted in the game-winning goal from Laborious Hawk. Mojmir Anac would probably have put the ball out of the ground before giving it up in the same fashion, though his dwindling pace might have presented issues elsewhere. Nevertheless, Lev Repin made the changes and hoped it would be enough to get a crucial three points.

Mytanija didn’t lose control of the match despite Fejzuli’s presence, having the better of the first-half and perhaps ruing some missed chances. A poor free-kick from the usually dangerous boot of Fejzuli disappointed and as it drew closer to half-time the match had the air of one heading in the same way as the group opener had. The Hoops just weren’t clicking in the way they had during qualifying and Zwangzug’s threat was growing. Farrokh Sokhi made Anac look his age and Gordon Blum finished neatly in the 55th minute to put Zwangzug in front. They settled into their shape thereafter and even with Fejzuli on the pitch Mytanija couldn’t fashion a chance to put themselves in front. Jezdimir Ocokoljic had been worryingly quiet in both World Cup games, something football twii.tur shitposters would seize upon across the multiverse, ‘Ocokoljic finished’, ‘can only score against farmers’ etc. In truth, Mytanija had been solid in both matches, but they were just lacking that bit of sparkle needed to get results against good opponents.

Lev Repin knew that, sometimes these sort of matches went in your favour and sometimes they didn’t, but knowledge of that didn’t stop him wondering if he had overthought things. What if he had started Fejzuli against Valanora? Should he have taken Bigger Mbala-Ekakia out of the team over the head of one error? Should he have chosen someone other than Mojmir Anac to replace him? Would the Zwangzug game have gone differently if Mersudin Smajic had played? Trying to answer these questions was impossible, but they bounced around Lev Repin’s mind on repeat ahead of the final group game against Farfadillis. Repin had a way of playing and generally he liked to stick to it, he tried to block out the noise around the national team and make decisions based on what he thought would put the team in the best position to win any given match. It was possible that he had allowed media questions to enter his thinking, perhaps he should have just stuck to his original line of thinking.

They were out of contention now anyway, but every Mytanar wanted to win a match at this World Cup. It would be an enormous disappointment to go away from the tournament empty-handed after not being there for so long. It would be difficult, Farfadillis looked to be in great form, winning their two opening games and qualifying to the knockout rounds. It was possible that they would rest some players, holding a three goal advantage on goal difference to the Vanorians even if the elves beat Zwangzug, but the Farves would surely want to keep their momentum and try to emerge from the group stage with maximum points too. Lev Repin decided he would take the middle ground between his decision-making for the two previous games. One error shouldn’t have been enough to take Bigger Mbala-Ekakia out of the team, so he would be back in the back three alongside Savicevic and Racic. Repin just hoped he hadn’t knocked the youngster’s confidence by withdrawing him from the starting eleven.

There would also be a spot for Tahir Fejzuli. The veteran would retain his place. He would be familiar with many of the players in the Farfadillis team from playing there with his club side, as well as numerous international club competition appearances for both Mâ Âlâmëómë and previously Sabrefell Moths. The Farfadillis team could be a bit laidback knowing that they were already safely through and Fejzuli would be able to punish them for that if he got even the slightest sense of players being out of position. He would find his team mates through the gaps. Repin knew that coming home from the World Cup with no points would be regarded as a disappointment back home, even if it would hardly threaten his position as manager. He would have to underline just how disappointing it would be to his players before the game.

The Mytanar supporters in Tikariot and back at home hadn’t endured this wait between successful qualifications for that to be the end result.

[Ko-oren]

Welcome to the Audioslavia Revenge Tour!

Remember the relief we felt when the Bulls dropped to sixth in Group C of the CAFA Cup so they couldn't ruin another major tournament for us? What a feeling. After five group stage games, the Dragonflies were in the knockouts (and we're not telling you how well they did) and the Bulls were out - en route to that we shared a 0-0 draw. That was a revenge game after the World Cup 88 group stage debacle, where an all-Anaian group saw us take a nice lead after two matchdays and almost nothing could go wrong - only a bad loss could eliminate us - and exactly that took place. AUD 2-0 KOR. At least the Bulls did something with the last chance they were given. A win in extra time and a 1-0 win, and they were in the semis. They then lost to the Holy Empire, but got some redemption in the 3rd place playoff (1-0 win over Banija), while the Ko-orenites were at home, the World Cup decorations stashed away, looking at the 'what could have been's.

And then. World Cup 89. Audioslavia in pot 1, Ko-oren fell to pot 2 after a miracle playoff escape. Hype on draw day. "And in Group F - Audioslavia!". Sure, whatever. "And in Group F - Ko-oren!". FFFFF-

Matchday one, we took on Mercedini for a single point. That put us on edge: it forced us get a result versus Audioslavia and also versus Electrum - and we knew not to get deceived by the rank of the latter.

But then it happened. We finally got a result versus the Bulls. The Yellowsash jersey, victorious, versus the away jersey with the apt nickname the 'Drip'. 2-1. Erwin Spijkers cut inside for the 0-1 to start things off ("Call an ambulance!") before the ample space between the lines allowed Vaugrenard to equalise ("But not...") and Miyahara's immediate follow-up goal even put us ahead ("... for me!"). The three goals rudely interrupted a wrestling match, so it's a good thing both Greenblue goals happened near back to back. That left everyone with about 12 minutes of jersey pulling, cynical fouls (but not in the form of "they're about to counterattack, let me floor this guy", but more in the form of "I don't care what happens next, but that body is about to hit this field"). While the ref was in control of the game, he still brandished the yellow card nine times overall: Van Kalvenhaar, Mizuno, Longchambon, Janoreirinthen, and Monurga for Ko-oren, and Ceron, Moxey, Letexier, and obviously Rijsbergen for the other team. Van Kalvenhaar was brought down via pony tail pull, which provided us with the (surprisingly) only red card, for Rijsbergen.

That leaves us with one challenge: we need a draw (or better) against Electrum, and we're back in the knockouts for the first time since the World Cup 87 final. We were in the same boat last time, let's not fuck it up again.

Which brings us... to the Juliasterinthen cycle.

World Cup 87: KFA announces that Juliasterinthen is on a short leash. Juliasterinthen has the team make the final.
AOCAF: KFA offers shiny new contract.
World Cup 88: What the hell
CAFA: what the everloving hell
World Cup 89: Juliasterinthen is on a short leash.

[Valanora]

And there is the final whistle from Tikariot, where the Marauders end up falling to their neighbors of Farfadillis two to one, meaning that they will need a result in the last match against Zwangzug if they look to progress. Lothas Ludwig's fifty-first minute strike was not enough to secure points for the side and they will be looking for ways to spark their offensive firepower in the last match or will have their Finals campaign ending much sooner than anyone will like." The static of the radio is cut short inside the locker room for the Marauders and Didrik Gjedrem looked around the room to try and get a feel for how the team was handling this failure. The players were looking very frustrated, a bit like they had been looking during the halftime talk against Mytanija, where the side had been failing to find the sort of comfort in the game that they had become accustomed to. While the Farves did not do anything explicitly to frustrate the team in the offensive end, it was the second straight game where the vaunted offensive talent that Didrik had at his disposal had looked like they were not in the game.

Laborious Hawk had bailed the team out in the opening match with one of those wonderful free kicks that he has been known to provide on the occasion, yet there was no magic to be found to keep the Marauders from falling to defeat against the Farves. When the team should have been thrusting into the attack and putting pressure on the opposition midfield and backline, instead they had been passing it around and just content to hold onto the possession. The tracking back on the wings had also been more lackadaisical than what was usual from the wingers. As a whole, the team had just seemed completely and utterly disjointed in the game against Farfadillis, perhaps becoming the contempt of familiarity that had been bred in the numerous games between the two close nations. Perhaps though it had been there in the opening game as well against Mytanija and that he and the rest of the staff had been able to overlook that lack of intensity thanks in large part to Hawk being the person and talent that he was. Hawk had a way of covering up many flaws from many teams with his presence, this might have been another case of that.

It was then that it dawned on Didrik exactly what had been plaguing his team through the first two games in Tikariot and it was something that was hard to identify and then even more difficult to try and overcome. The players had been playing timidly almost, they had not been playing up to their usual standards, nor the intensity that had been expected of them in the tournament. As many different media had pointed out, this looked to have been the absolute best chance that the Marauders have had to add that coveted sixth star to the crest for the first time in nearly four decades, yet the team on the field had not been playing with that sort of drive. It had been somewhat present during the second half of the campaign when the Marauders had been pegged for a few upsets that allowed themselves to have lost out on winning the group, but that had been the Qualifiers and nearly everyone had expected the Marauders to have been back to their normal selves during the Finals, with as much pride and pressure they have in trying to win a championship. Yet that was exactly why they were playing the way they were, because the team was not trying to win their games, they were trying not to lose.

This had been a problem Didrik had to solve a few times with United during his reign there, as the expectations of the team and the fans made it where winning was thought to be automatic and it made any loss feel like the entire world was collapsing in on you. Not only would you have all the criticism from the media and the heckling from the opposition, but your own mind would start to run away if you let it, bringing your confidence and morale to a low point where things start to snowball. Didrik knew that he should have seen it after the Mytanija game, yet they all had been blinded with the thrill and beauty of the Hawk goal that they had not taken the deeper dive into why the Marauders had not been able to exert their authority over the fourth seeds in the first place, even if it was particularly difficult fourth seed. Now that he saw what was wrong, it seemed so obvious that the team had been too worried about losing either of the first two games that they had not had the thrust and grit to battle away for the victory. Without Hawk's brilliance, they would be in a very poor place cause of that mentality, and if the side was going to have a chance against Zwangzug, it needed to be addressed now.

"Alright, we lost, it sucks and I know all of you are feeling like someone just punched you right in the gut and left you to lay there in your misery. This is the World Cup, we all know what that means and we know how much there is a desire from the fans and the federation that we add a sixth star to the crest, it has been the long lasting national pursuit after all. Losing now and putting that pursuit on the line, it can feel like you let a lot of people down because you were not able to win. Well, not everyone gets to be a winner, someone at the end of the day has to be a loser, and we have been fortunate to be on the right side of that equation more often than not. Now we are on the other side, the side where it hurts and the pressure starts to build up, as everything is now on the line. The secret is that everything is and always is on the line, no one game is any more important than the rest if you break it down to the basics, each game is three points to take. We missed out on that chance today but we get another chance in a few days against Zwangzug, a chance to be on the right side of the equation again. If we lose, it will hurt, but it is not the end of the world. If we win however, we get to keep playing the game, keep getting those chances. As sportspeople, that is all you can ask for, is more chances to compete and showcase your skill, but you have to put your best foot forward. Can you do that for yourselves, can you take the best tonic for a loss and instead turn it all around with your best effort to then be on the right side of the equation?!"

[Kandorith]

---

Shinonome Kyoai - International

---

Dragons back in the race for round of 16

Making history for the current generation depends on the final matchday.
By Natsumi Miyasaki
Sports

^{SHARE THIS:}

---

P Group H                     Pld   W  D  L   GF  GA  GD  Pts 
1 Nephara                       2   2  0  0    5   3  +2    6
2 Eura                          2   1  0  1    2   2   0    3
  Kandorith                     2   1  0  1    5   5   0    3
4 Chromatika                    2   0  0  2    2   4  −2    0

After the match against Nephara, dreams of reaching the round of sixteen were dashed, despite the supporters' celebration of the team's outstanding performance. However, a resurrected and tenacious Kandorese squad has restored hope to the people of the nation by successfully thwarting Chromatika's game plan. With only one obstacle to overcome, the Golden Dragons have a chance to advance to the round of sixteen for the first time since World Cup 73. For Michiyu, it would mean being one of the most successful Kandorese football managers in history, while for the people, it would mean the nation shining on the international scene for the first time in a long and difficult era in the nation's sports history.

With Kandorith and Chromatika sharing the bottom of Group D, the team's positioning in the game versus Chromatika had to shift. After a thrilling battle that resulted in a two-to-one triumph for the Kandorese, the squad is now on an equal playing field with their next opponent: Eura. The Golden Dragons will go all out to win this game, no matter how tight the margin of victory is. Nothing seems impossible with Eura being at a lower rank than Chromatika, but it will still be a difficult battle for the Kandorese. Michiyu will be hoping for a win and pushing the national team to new heights in what is likely to be the most meaningful match for Kandoreans since the Cup of Harmony 77 final. While social media is abuzz with calling Michiyu the spiritual successor of Hayabusa, the squad is hard at work preparing for the next World Cup game.

There is a sense of tension in the air across the Empire, as everyone is naturally optimistic in the run-up to the game versus Eura, where every goal will be crucial. The biggest issue is whether the Kandorese can deal with the Eura defence in the same manner they dealt with Chromatika. Looking at the Kandorese football team's present record, one would think they could accomplish it because they have conquered difficulties that were unattainable prior to the current World Cup. In the qualification stage, the Kandorese were able to outperform excellent teams such as Vilita, Savojarna, and Barunia, all of which appeared to be stronger on paper than the Kandorese. For many Kandorese, losing their first World Cup match after battling through qualifying without a single defeat seemed like the harsh truth of the Kandorese their World Cup history. Kandorith only made it to the round of sixteen in one World Cup, finishing second with four points in a group with Osarius and Equestrian States. History appears to be repeating itself since the Equestrian States were ranked fourteenth at the time, just like Chromatika, and Kandorith similarly succumbed to the number one in Group D of World Cup 73. After losing to San Jose Guayabal in the round of sixteen at the Celebratory Stadium in Cawln, the Kandorese's World Cup campaign came to an end. The Kandorese, on the other hand, viewed this effort as a gigantic success.

Kandorith to face Eura on the last match day

The Kandorese have certainly lived up to their underdog reputation this season, mounting surprise after surprise in the qualifying stages leading up to the World Cup, and they are presently tied for the second position with the last match approaching. With Michiyu at the helm of this well-oiled machine, they can claim one of the most successful Kandorese campaigns in a long time. Michiyu was approachable and delighted to speak to the media following the encounter against Chromatika, and we took advantage of the opportunity to ask them about their impressions on the game, particularly whether a greater goal difference would have been desirable.

"I'm relieved and happy," Michiyu replied. "Everything fell into place, and the team collaborated wonderfully." I believe it benefits us when there is more pressure on the team because we know what we are fighting for when a knockout is hovering over our heads. I can't stress enough how important every player on our squad has been during our World Cup campaign thus far. Of course, many individuals have favourite players that they admire and regard as the finest on the field, but I believe it is teamwork that drives the engine of this decision. Every player shines in their own way, and we've positioned ourselves as an indestructible squad in Kandorese's so to speak.

"I can only chuckle when someone mentions wanting to have scored more goals. I have heard that certain international media outlets reported that I appeared slightly unhappy with the goal score after the game, but I can tell you that this is not the case. I believe we could have scored more goals if we had pushed harder, but we need to preserve all of our energy for the encounter against Eura. In the end, the only thing that matters is scoring one more goal than the opponent. I enjoy winning with numbers like five to zero, six to zero, and so on, but winning games like Chromatika or, say, six to five versus Vilita is still a victory. The only thing that matters to me is that the squad gives everything they have and that I can rely on them. The next encounter against Eura is difficult, but I know the players will be at their best to take the field and demonstrate what exactly the Kandorese warrior spirit is made of.

The country looked forward to the forthcoming game against Eura as Michiyu, always clad in flashy black tech-wear, exited the field. When it comes to tie-breaker regulations, both sides are fully equal, which makes this match even more tense for those watching. But one thing is certain: a Kandore victory is a requirement in order to advance to the World Cup's next round. Things grow tricky if the match between Eura and Kandorith results in a tie. With the game coming, the Dragons will undoubtedly be aiming for a victory and will turn to the moon for direction as she points her bow towards the vacuum of the cosmos.

---

Shinji Asato found dead in Gawato district.

A day before the election, authorities uncovered the body of promising upcoming politician.
By Hikaru Yamashiro
Politics

^{SHARE THIS:}

---

Shinji Asato, leader of the CDP

When police received a report in the early morning about unusual occurrences at the popular eatery HijemeTakura, they expected a normal investigation because the firm had previously dodged tax. The typically lively restaurant would become the setting of the most high-profile political murder in Kandorese history as the police arrived on the scene for the inspection and spoke to a distraught employee of the establishment.

A tied up and brutally disfigured body was discovered in the establishment's basement, which also acts as one of their refrigerators. Medical and forensic personnel were sent to the area to assist the two workers who discovered the corpse and to identify the victim as soon as possible. After scans, the police's concerns were confirmed, and the body's identification was confirmed to be Shinji Asato, the CDP leader who went missing on October 11th. Asato had been under police protection for quite some time since the threats against his life were seen to be highly genuine, and he was in fact in danger. His family was relocated to a safe home a few days later.

However, the politician vanished from the safe home before the second crew assigned to protect him arrived on October 11. According to reports, Asato was abducted by mercenaries who pretended to be special police units guarding him and were able to transport him without suspicion. Asato was thought to be unconscious at the time. The present inquiry has yielded no leads as to who the mercenaries were or who hired them, although there are two high-profile individuals suspected of having strong links to mercenary groups. Police are presently looking into the Kaito Corporation and Ronin Assemblies for suspected links to Asato's abduction and death. Both the CEOs of Kaito Corporation and Ronin have been harshly critical of Shinji Asato and have called him out on several occasions during his campaign. Kaito Corp CEO Akihito Nishioka went as far as to say that Asato is a problem for the modern world and Kandorith would be better off if he were removed from the Empire. Police do not rule out the possibility of Asato becoming the target of a corporation-funded assassination because of his views on corporate taxation and political influence.

Unknown effects on Sunday's election

The impact of the murder on the Kandorese elections cannot yet be assessed, as the people of Kandorith head to the polls on Sunday. Many Kandorese are horrified by the assassination and find this type of conduct revolting, even considering the corporate norms they have grown to recognize in recent years. Currently, the CDP is just a few percentage points ahead in the polls, as the LDP has been recovering lost ground in recent days. The elections are likely to be a battleground between the Liberal Democratic Party and the Asato Central Democratic Party. The rumoured leadership change at the LDP could, however, swing the election their way and is looking to become the most important topic tonight when it comes to the election.

The LDP is currently in turmoil, as Kenji Tagawa has dismissed parliament after his reform bills were defeated on the floor, and he has opted to stand down as the party leader. According to the LDP, there are now several potential successors in the race, and the party election later tonight will choose the future head of the Liberal Democratic Party. Most people assume that the next leader will be an older and more experienced politician than Tagawa and that they will have the support of the majority of the LDP to reform and strengthen the party's factions, who have been battling for power and voting privileges for years. Another rumour is that the LDP, like Tagawa, will be led by a reformer in order to connect more firmly with Kandorese people, particularly the youth, who are the least likely to vote in the general election. In the last general elections in 2020, barely 36% of the population voted, and the LDP won by a landslide. The assassination of Asato and the LDP's infighting is expected to increase the number of people voting in the forthcoming election.

[Polkopia]

Goals Galore, But Still Winless After Draw Against Starblaydia

"That was a fucking gauntlet of a game, wasn't it?" Stepen Azarov said, probably louder than intended, as the glass which he carelessly swung around the room was, at one point not long ago, filled to the brim with the finest Polkopian vodka, but now remained nearly empty as Azarov fell into the hole of endless conversations with his teammates and friends, and found himself mindlessly sipping away at the libation, which to him tasted no more potent than that of mineral water. He himself could not be blamed for giving into drunkenness though, as the temptation seemed to sweep across the room like a plague, nearly everybody found themselves in a similar situation, celebrating their most recent game in the World Cup, having held Starblaydia, the top seed in their group, to a draw.

While the game was played midday and the athletes spent most of the evening hydrating and tending to their sore muscles, at night many of the Polkopians who did not acquire an injury which would've inhibited their movement had gone up to Yuri Smyefinov's hotel room, which had been the de facto meeting place for all unofficial post-match hangouts during the World Cup. Previously, this room had been to talk among themselves, gripe about some of the players they've had to go up against, or borrow some piece of athletic equipment from a fellow player, but tonight was about celebration. Polkopia had started their World Cup run as a rankless team, and now had managed to score four goals against the sixth best team in the multiverse. Maybe it wasn't the win that the Polkopians would have surely preferred over a draw, but at this stage, not many people would have expected this game to turn out how it had for Polkopia, so for many of them, the sentiment was similar to that of a win.

"A gauntlet? That's a strange word to describe, don't you think, Stepya?" Vadim Išutin laughed, but his voice still boomed over some of the other voices that were already chiming in. Išutin's eyes had already begun to accumulate a sort of gloss which most people were to recognize from friends and acquaintances, all who have had far too much to drink in a short amount of time.

"Well, it was a fun fucking game to play, my dear. You come up with a better word then, if you're so clever!" Azarov shouted back, his words slurring ever so slightly. He tipped his glass back and finished the last drops of vodka that remained in his glass. "Yuri!" Azarov shouted again, "Where's the Yeptsini!"

"Stepya!" Smyefinov shouted back, "Remember, those Tikariotian customs assholes wouldn't let me bring my whole stash? They threw out three whole bottles in front of me - I was lucky enough to manage to bring what I did!"

"One of my friends told me they managed to bring a small bottle of vodka past... erm, I don't remember what country it was," Išutin said, "but they has a very strict no-alcohol policy, so she stuck a bottle in her... Well..."

Azarov burst out laughing, "Vadim Voldamiravić, do you think I have the capability to do such a thing? Listen, if I was that desperate to do that, I would've called you after that one night out you had with that drag queen in Aut-Ves-Nat, what was her name again?"

"Piece of shit!" Išutin laughed and threw a pillow over at Azarov, "Her name was Chrysoberyl and she was lovely! And I've told you several times over, we never *did* anything, we just made out a little bit!"

"I know, I know," Azarov said, "I'm just fucking with you, but you made it too easy, I had to!"

"So what about the game, then?" Slava Panin chimed in, gnawing on crackers. As he spoke, crumbs flew out of his mouth, much to the annoyance of Lev Rusakov, who was sitting next to him and surely felt the most of the fallout spewing from Panin's mouth. "We did well and stuff, but it sucks we didn't win that one, right?"

There was a murmur around the room and many looked toward the defenders, whose uncharacteristic sloppy defending allowed Starblaydia to score four goals against Polkopia. Throughout their entire qualification campaign, only one nation managed to score more than three goals against Polkopia - The Jovannic, however Polkopia's offense more than made up for the defensive errors that game, scoring a whopping seven goals, but at this level, one cannot repeat those same mistakes. Now, going up against the multiverse's best, the offense cannot be counted on to score outlandish amounts of goals against their opponents, as the defensive capabilities of some of these teams surpass even some of Polkopia's qualifying group's most dangerous opponents. Here, scoring just one goal is an accomplishment all on its own, so for the offense to score four goals to make up for the lackadaisical defense seemed like a victory all on its own.

"Well," Nikita Rudin cleared his throat, "that last game was a victory and a defeat for us, all wrapped up in one, alright? It's easy to be proud of what we did that game, but we cannot ignore some of the mistakes that we had too. We're in last place in our group now, and we can't advance unless we pull out a win. Our next opponent is Cassadaigua, and they're a pretty well-balanced team, probably the best team in our group, honestly. We need to make something happen here or we're fucked."

"Did anyone watch the game against Græntfjall?" Danya Siyan called out from the edge of the room, where he had been sitting on the ground, back propped up against the wall. "I never got a chance to watch the highlights yet, but they had a pretty similar game to us when they played against Starblaydia, but against Græntfjall, they didn't concede any, did they?"

"No." Rudin said, "which means we need to be extra careful because they've demonstrated they can play exceptionally well against any opponent. I don't think anyone is counting us out at this point, so expect them to give us all they've got. If they lose, after all, there's a chance they won't advance either, so they've got a lot riding on this game too."

"So what do we do, sir captain?" Azarov called out, laughing, "Do you have any words of advice for when we get our asses kicked in the middle of the frozen, rocky hellscape we've been playing in? Or should I just pack now?"

Rudin put his glass down on the table and cleared his throat again, "Listen, all of you. We're not out of this yet. We held our own against similarly difficult teams already, so we'll just have to play like we have been. Just don't be stupid, alright? And that goes for all of us, we've all played really well so far, but we've also all had our own mistakes which have cost us some serious points in the past. All I'm asking is that we all maintain a level head and calm the hell down when we're out on the pitch. It's easy to get frustrated, but when we get upset, we tend to fuck up some of our plays out there. If you're upset, distance yourself from your opponent for a bit, focus on the ball, focus on your teammates, and do what you do best. This isn't the alcohol talking when I say this, but I've really enjoyed playing with each and every one of you so far. When we're playing again back home, I'll probably fucking hate you lot, but at least for now I'm so proud to call you all my teammates, and I really truly mean that."

The room was dead silent at this point, as everyone looked toward the team captain as he delivered his speech to the entire room. Even Azarov, who was normally not one to pay attention during these more sentimental moments, grasped his glass tightly and stared up at Rudin, his eyes never losing sight of his teammate's.

"And even if we lose, we do it with grace, we do it with class, because that's what we want to show others. You know, there're some people out there who have been very vocal about wanting us to lose. We aren't going to stoop down to that level, because that's not who we are. Regardless of how these games go, I'd like to see our friends in Starblaydia, Cassadaigua, and Græntfjall succeed, alright? And I'd like for you all to share that same sentiment with me. After all, if one of them wins this whole thing, we can at least say we held our own against the multiverse's best teams. And really, that's what we're doing now anyway, but I digress. Right now, I'd like to share a toast with you all, to teammates, to friendship, and to many more games with you all, because I know this tournament won't be the last we see of each other."

Rudin grabbed his glass and his eyes darted around the room for the vodka. "Hey, does anyone actually know where we have any more of that Yeptsini?"

Smyefinov shouted back, "I told you earlier, you all drank everything I was allowed to bring over! Don't blame me, blame Tikariotian customs!"

"Wait, I have some left!" Išutin exclaimed, reaching into his bag and pulling out a handle of vodka. "I was gonna save this for a night when we were all downtown or something, but I think this is a better time for it."

"You're a crazy little clubrat, Vadim Voldamiravić, but don't ever change." Rudin grabbed the vodka from him, laughing. He then proceeded to then pour the liquor in several players' glasses before pouring the last of the bottle's contents into his own glass. "I'd say the cheers thing again, but I've already said it all, and I'm tired of talking. Let's just drink!"

The players all clinked glasses and began sipping their liquor once more, laughing and hugging one another. Soon, they would face off against Cassadaigua in a game that would decide the fate of both teams. The odds were fully against Polkopia's advancement into the Round of 16, but only time would tell if their hopes and dreams would manifest itself into a win. For now, the team could only use tonight to enjoy each others' company before preparations for the next game went underway.

[Pasarga]

The Wanderers' strike force really has refound its form with eight goals through the first two games of the Finals, following up the three all draw with cohosts Tikariot with a five to nil demolition of Omerica in the second matchday. For a part of the team that had been missing at stretches during the qualifying campaign, they really have found their footing here in the Finals and look to be pressing the Wanderers forward, giving them a good shout of finding a way into the knockouts once more. With no striker over the age of thirty here in Tikariot, there is still a bit of room for improvement, especially with the young Elek Salai of Ibini FC. Originally have thought to play on the left wing thanks to the logjam of strikers for the Wanderers, Salai has developed into quite the star striker in his own right and is perhaps the first name on the teamsheet, especially with the way that he has been playing here in Tikariot. Three goals through the first two games, after grabbing a goal in the opener against the hosts and a brace against the overmatched Omerica side, Salai looks determined to make his case for one of the best strikers currently in the game.

To be fair to Omerica, they were a small surprise to qualify, but not a completely out of nowhere team to make it here to the final thirty-two teams. One of the many teams in those so called mid rank pack, Omerica was able to craft an offensive onslaught through the qualifiers that allowed them to qualify and gain passage to our Rushmori cohosts, where the draw did not do them any real favors, looking to not have much hope in toppling the hosts and ourselves. Their best bet for a victory would come up against the fourth seed and in theory weaker team in the form of Tumbra, however their opening matchday defeat to Tumbra showed that whatever had been working for Omerica during the qualifiers had decided to abandon them here in Rushmore. While a victory over the third seeds was something that the Wanderers were expecting after both the draw as well as the first round of results, I have my doubts that anyone in the team or the fans would have believed the complete domination of the game that the Wanderers would enjoy nor the final scoreline of five goals to the good and none against.

The goals started early for the Wanderers, with Szalyk Földessy getting a rare goal from the destroyer position, being the late runner into the box in the seventh minute and catching the low cross into the box by his brother from the right wing. It was the sort of start to the game that really breathed a lot of belief and life into the side, as there was a sudden burst of energy from the Wanderers and they were hard on the attack against Omerica. Their foes were doing a decent job of keeping the Wanderers at bay, as the score was kept to only a goal despite a quick triple salvo in the nineteenth minute, but the quick reflexes in net were strong enough to deny the Wanderers. Yet Salai would get his first of two goals three minutes later when a dynamic ball from the midfield maestro of Márió Szölösi put the striker behind the defense and he made no mistake with the opportunity. Márió Szölösi would get a goal himself in the forty-second minute, cutting across the top of the box before unleashing a powerful shot with his left foot that cannoned off the elbow of the post and into the back of the net for a three goal lead heading into halftime.

Any hope of a comeback for Omerica was killed off in the forty-ninth minute when Salai was brought down inside the box attempting to shift the ball to his strong foot, being awarded a penalty. The Ibini FC striker was the obvious taker, calmly placing the ball on the spot, taking a three step walkup before slotting home the spotkick hard and to the right of the keeper, outside his jumping range and the fourth goal for the Wanderers. The young Ilona Kárpáty would finish off the scoring in the seventy-seventh minute, coming in ten minutes early as a substitute, and she would dribble the defense before getting a moment of a clean look that she struck with such quickness that it caught the keeper off guard. It had been the sort of goal the CA Paulinthal mdifielder had scored a few times in the Hurricane's impressive Challengers Cup victory and then Champions League Final run, showing that there is still plenty of depth for the Wanderers to look forward to in the coming years. The final whistle blew and it was a mercy for Omerica, while the Wanderers got a massive boost to their hopes of progressing.

That is because in the other match, what was supposed to be the most overmatched team in the group in Tumbra was able to do better than the Wanderers and managed to defeat the hosts, securing their progression through to the knockout stages already and putting Tikariot in a difficult position. For the Wanderers, the objective is quite simple, find a way to not lose against Tumbra and they will once again be in the knockouts. Even a defeat in the last match is not the end of the world for Pasarga, thanks to the massive goalscoring spree that the side enjoyed against Omerica, as they would have a very difficult goal difference for Tikariot to try and overcome, though they will be playing Omerica themselves. However the Wanderers will want to be heading into the knockouts with a but of thrust and quite a bit of momentum, meaning they are likely going to be going for the victory and an attempt to win the group, though it will likely not make any real difference in their opponent in the knockouts if they get there, as the group the Wanderers are paired with is completely up in the air still. With the side having managed to keep Omerica off the scoresheet, it is expected that the defensive changes will stay, and the hope they can get a victory over a Tumbra side who only two cycles ago was just reentering the international arena, ironically against the Wanderers themselves. A win and a draw in those matches looks a good omen for the Wanderers, but these are the Finals, where anything can happen.

[Tikariot]

The sound of a heartbeat fills the void, very slow and steady. Slowly the darkness lifts, revealing a long, uneven corridor, the floor packed dirt, the walls looking odd in the flickering light of the torches leading away into the distance.

Sometimes the best laid plans go to waste...

Upon closer examination, the walls are not dirt or stone, but skulls and bones.

Sometimes hope can extinguish like the flame of a candle in a storm...

As the camera follows the corridor, it shows hundreds, if not thousands of skulls stretching out along the walls in what seems to be catacombs.

As the bleakness of reality settles, painting a dreary picture of darkness and despair...

Turning around, The Shadow is slowly walking along the narrow path, his face shrouded in twilight underneath the cowl of his robe, his staff in hand.

The feeling of walls closing in, the feeling of helplessness, of the world drained of light, of standing alone in a plain of complete and utter desolation...

He walks past, falling silent, towards a darkness ahead, where the corridor seems to end. As it turns out, it opens up into a huge cavern, its expanse reaching far beyond the reach of the torches, the visible portions ragged, with dead, gnarled trees, their spindly branches sticking up like ghastly hands reaching up from the ground the only signs of vegetation, as lifeless as the rest of the surroundings. As he silently walks on, the faint sound of water can be heard in the distance, eventually reaching the shores of a pitch black stream of water, its surface perfectly smooth, and seemingly impenetrable. A faint glow from afar can be seen ever so slowly moving closer, a single boat with two lanterns at the prow and the stern, one dark-clad figure moving it across almost soundlessly with a long pole.

Finally the boat runs aground in front of The Shadow with a soft crunch. The Shadow steps into the shallow waters close to shore and climbs aboard, taking up a spot at the prow as the ferryman pushes back with his pole, back into the dark waters.

The dark temptation is there, to just give in and give up...

Almost soundlessly the boat glides through the black water, the waves cast by the prow cutting through it the only real sign of progress in the faint light of the lantern until almost vertically rising stone cliffs appear from the murk, leading towards a small little cove with a weathered, rickety dock. The boat slides in and with a gentle bump comes to a halt. The Shadow steps off and without looking back walks towards a very narrow ravine, the only path leading away from the cove between the high cliffs. After a few minutes the cliffs fall away as sudden as they had appeared and ahead lies an even more desolate looking, with fires and embers casting an ominous red glow over a barren, hellish landscape, stretching as far as the eye can see.

The Shadow does not pay any heed to it, carefully walking on a meandering path, shadowy figures appearing from the mists obscuring parts of the areas on both sides of the path. Not even acknowledging them, The Shadow moves on, with the cloaked figures falling in stride behind him, as he leads them towards another looming set of cliffs.

But to give up would be the easy way out and the easy way out is not an option...

As they file through a similar opening as the first cliffs have had, they reach another shoreline, the waters as black and impenetrable looking as the first, but something is decidedly different, the surface rough and choppy, a black sun in the skies, a corona around it illuminating the vastly different surroundings. Another vessel is awaiting The Shadow and the other figures, a ragged and tattered sail hanging off weathered rigging.

They ascend the planks leading up on and the figures take up positions on the oars. A lone drum begins to sound and a disembodied deep and sonorous voice begins to sing, responded to by the figures in choice.

Heidevolk - Yngwaz' Zonen

It is simple to forget the forsaken souls of those who seem lost, but what do they have left to lose? The Dark Tide may seem lost, hope almost extinguished, but as long as there is even the faintest glimmer within the darkness, we shall stand together. And as desolate as the situation may seem, the glimmer is still there, the proverbial straw to grasp. It may have looked as if Tumbra had slammed shut the book, but the last chapter is not yet written.

With strong strokes of the oars, the ship's prow slices through the harsh and choppy seas, the black sun in the skies becoming more and more obscured by clouds, the scene descending into the dark of night. Tirelessly the slap of the oars can be heard and a faint glow appears on the horizon. Ever so slowly the outline of a citadel can be seen, illuminated by hundreds of torches, then more buildings at the foot of the hill the citadel is located on and finally the piers reaching out into the sea. The ship glides along side one of the wooden platforms, ropes being thrown out and fastened against the pollards. The Shadow and his dark procession steps off and as they reach the old town of Tikariot City, a sea of people dressed in black parts ahead of them like the sea being parted by the ship's prow. Torches flare to life as they pass and the crowd falls into step behind The Shadow, moving through the narrow streets and towards the edge of the historic district towards the brightly illuminated Dhaencunor Arena, location of Tikariot's final group stage game against Omerica. The viewpoint changes to high up on the sides of the Arena and it indeed looks as if a dark tide is sweeping out of the Old Town towards the stadium, still swelling as they get closer, torches held high. As they reach the turn stiles, The Shadow stops, his crew in a half moon behind him and the large, black crown spreading out.

This fight is not over, the final bell has yet to toll. The Dark Tide will not subside until all hope has truly faded away. Until then we will be dark shadow just at the edge of your vision, Pasarga, the dark edge nagging in the back of your mind, the strand of doubt. Are you ready? We are...

With that he raises his staff and points towards the entrance to the Arena and the crowd surges forward like a flooding tide, bathing the area in black...

[Audioslavia]

"I'm getting a sort of... is that.. is that yeast?" said Jeremy
"It has a certain yeasty quality, yes, a strong umami undercurrent that underpins the underences of the wine" said the sommelier
"Underences"
"It's a sommelier word"
"It's a very sommely wine, this. This... it as a... there's some kind of smell of..."
"...go on"
"...butts" said Jeremy
"It does indeed have coprolific notes"
"It just all smells of... of butts and vegemite. I didn't know wine was supposed to do that"
"The wonderful world of winho is full of..."
"Is this the Electrumite one?"

There was a loud 'ding' sound behind Jeremy. A spotlight illuminated a bottle of wine behind him.

"But, Jeremiah" said the Sommelier. "Is this *better* or *worse* than the Mercedinian one, which you described 'mediocre yet brief'
"The same" said Jeremy. "They both just tasted like red wine. It all just tastes like red wine."
"Well one is..."
"You get all these wine people, don't you? Y'know, wine this, wine that, let's have a bit of red, let's have a bit of white. Ooh that has a snazzy bouquet. Ooh that smells of... i dunno... basil"
"I'm beginning to wonder why we got you on the show, Jeremy" said the Sommelier, grinning brightly at the audience, who laughed. Jeremy laughed too, only a fraction too loudly, too long, and too staring directly at the sommelier. Rubio hit 'pause'.

"Why do you do shit like this" said Rubio Sanchez, watching on YouTube four hundred kilometres and three months away.
"Keeps my face on TV" came Jeremy's reply. Jeremy leaned over towards Rubio's desk, swept a pile of notes onto the floor and placed a single sheet of paper onto the vacated desk space. On the top of the piece of paper were the words "SORDID SOMMELIER ROMPS WITH BELLYDANCER" in large black capitals. Below was a picture of the same person Jeremy was currently pretending to laugh along with on Rubio's screen, only this time he wasn't so much smiling, more looking over his shoulder in horror at the papparazzo snapping him eating a chunk of Emmenthal from a belly-dancer's left shoulder.
"Not strictly cheating" said Rubio
"Nibbling cheese off the little divotty bit in a Timurian dancer's shoulder? Cheating"
"Is it though?"
"Would you nibble cheese out of my collar crevice?" asked Jeremy.
"That's disgusting"
"See"

Rubio shook his head and hit 'play' again.

"Now this wine... this just tastes of grey. Grey, dour... it's like the personification of neutrality. Only it's not a person it's a wine. Is this the Ko-orenite one?"
*Ding*
*Applause*
"But is it better than..."
"It is *slightly* better than the Audioslavian one" said Jeremy.
*Gasp from the crowd*
*But honestly the Audioslavian one would shit all over the Mercedinian one"
*Applause*

*Pause*

"This really is the shittest TV show I've ever seen you in"
"You haven't seen me in Snail Racing with Julie Broadhead"
"On the contrary, I'm still waiting for series two of that"
"Not after the accident"
"Fair enough"

[Mercedini]

89th World Cup MD1 & MD2 Review
Mercedini vs. Ko-oren, Electrum vs. Mercedini
@ Dragonscrest Stadium - Port Tacassam, Tikariot

Good afternoon everyone and welcome back to Mercedini Sports Daily's coverage of the 89th World Cup. We have ditched the long road of the qualification stage for the glitz and glamour of the World Cup proper, and it has been a scarily comfortable ride for Mercedini thus far, claiming one of the automatic qualifying spots after only dropping points in a total of three games. Now, it's time for the big time which Dini have not had the best of times in previously. Following their previous five appearances, Mercedini have won one game and are currently on a fourteen match winless run spanning it's thirteenth edition. The Golden Eagles will want to put that run to an end in a group which is seen as one of the more competitive ones in the group stage.

It will be Electrum and Audioslavia to come, but first it's Ko-oren who were one of the emerging powers in the sport, but have now fully cemented themselves as a force in domestic and international football. It will be a tough game versus the World #12, but Dini have some good momentum behind them from their qualification campaign. In this cycle so far, Cassadaigua have been the only team to be of Ko-oren's stature which the Golden Eagles have faced, which resulted in a home loss on the first matchday, before Dini rallied to secure a draw in Concord Heights much more recently. It will be a big test for them this time round, as it always is in games like these. First game will be in the Dragoncrest Stadium in Port Tacassam. We wish them well, let's see how they got on.

World Cup Qualification: Double Draws Keep Dini In The Hat

---

Have we entered a parallel universe where Dini can suddenly defend, but not score to save their lives? That seems to be the case in the first two games of the World Cup, where Mercedini's tournament life hangs in the balance following two goalless draws versus Electrum and Ko-oren. It has been a cycle which has bee one of the better ones for the Golden Eagles, where they qualified with ease before more than holding their own against teams at the World Cup, but their inability to win (which has now stretched to sixteen games) still plagues them. Sitting third in the group, they must repeat the result of their Cup of Harmony final victory over Audioslavia if they are to claim their second-ever World Cup victory and advance from the group stage for the first time. It's a big occasion and a big match, but as a whole Mercedini are yet to arrive to the tournament in any real shape so far. Their results have been customary of a team that wants to give a lot, but doesn't want to risk going forward in case of an error. Let's review their games thus far, and see where that leaves them in the race for the knockouts.

On the opening night of the World Cup, the sense of occasion had finally returned to Mercedinian tournament as they began their World Cup in a rather competitive group, and they started that group with a match against Ko-oren, the second best team in the group. It would be a challenge, but it would be a test which would see whether Dini could hold their own versus one of the dark horses for a deep run this time around. In Port Tacassam's Dragonscrest Stadium, it was filled to the brim with neutrals, as well as tens of thousands of fans from each nation making their voices heard for those who stepped onto the pitch. It was to be a game which would likely define the group stage for both of these teams, so it was an imperative that a result was found if either team are to challenge Audioslavia for the top spot in the group.

However, what was billed to be an offensively scrappy match between two established footballing nations proved to be a bit of a damp squib, with the defences dominating to force a 0-0 draw. Chillotov and Dostalok, who so often turn up on occasions like this, were found wanting with Ko-oren being one of the first teams this cycle to find a formula to frustrate them. With three shots on target throughout the whole game, Mercedini simply couldn't get past the Ko-orenite wall in front of them. Indeed, their best chance came from a free-kick whipped in by Di Sansev and flicked towards goal by Nymark who was the front runner in the pack. His header wasn't on target, but it looked like a brilliant redirection from the midfielder to put it on a plate for Chillotov who arrived late to the back post. However, the Lajuno striker lost balance at the critical moment and struck the ball against the angle of post and bar, and out for a goal kick. At the other end, Ko-oren wasn't having much luck. Their dominance in possession and territory ultimately came to nothing as they were frustrated by a terrific performance from Wandai and their own lack of ability in finishing. Their best chance came late in the second half as a header from Atole Kaplan went straight down the throat of Wandai. Chances from Erisia and Longchambon were also plentiful, but they simply couldn't find that finishing product to see off their lower ranked opposition. Both teams open their account with a clean sheet, but there is still plenty of work which both teams need to do before they can assert themselves as a challenger in the group, especially in the final third.

Mercedini begin their campaign with a promising draw, meaning it keeps them off the bottom of the table and in with a fighting chance of snagging a top two spot after all three games have been played. Audioslavia's win over Electrum sees the top seed in front after one game. Their next game will come against the side that lost their last game, with the Golden Eagles having a major chance to end their winless run.

FULL TIME
Mercedini 0 - 0 Ko-oren

So, next up would be Electrum who are returning to the World Cup for the first time in a long while, they qualified as a rank outsider, and entered the Group Stage in Pot 4 as the World #43. Dini have always been the underdog in World Cup matches, but this time, they would come in as the favourite to win and the favourite to put one foot in the knockout rounds. Once again, tens of thousands had travelled for the second game which was being hosted in Paladon Park in the city of Avanaroch. Home to Dini's next two games, there was already a large Mercedinian presence in the city before the game had even begun, but they were making themselves heard as the second match of the World Cup kicked off.

Electrum were staring down the barrel of elimination if they couldn't pick up at least a point in this one, and with Ko-oren and Audioslavia fighting it out in the game parallel to this, it was a major chance for both teams to put themselves in with a shot of a top two spot in the final day. In a near mirror image of the first game, it would be another goalless draw to end the action in Paladon Park, in a game which Mercedini would see it as a missed opportunity to get ahead after everything they manufactured on the pitch. For this, they had the heroics of Electrumite goalkeeper Ralph Mills to thank, or rather, to seethe at. Playing his football in Hamilton, the 26-year old had the game of his life to keep his nation in the hunt for a win, acrobatically saving shot after shot to save the game and earn his team a point against Mercedini, who now sit in third place with two points, not scoring or conceding at this tournament so far.

If Chillotov thought his miss in the first game was bad, then it would probably be topped by his penalty and subsequent follow-up which were both blocked by the flailing arms of Mills in the Electrumite net. After Armani was cynically taken down in the box, the referee immediately pointed to the spot and awarded Dini a chance at a breakthrough from the spot at the beginning of the second half. Up to this point, the Electrum defence had been resolute and composed thus far, so Dini were thankful of receiving a way to bypass the defence and aim straight for the goal. Chillotov stepped up to end his and Mercedini's duck at this tournament, but Mills added to his collection of brilliant saves in this game by diving low to his right and blocking and fast and low shot from the Mercedinian striker. Not content with one, Mills rose quickly to meet the second shot from Chillotov as he tried to chip the loose ball over the goalkeeper on the rebound. The save from Mills wasn't clean, but he did enough to take the venom off the shot and allow his teammates to get back and clear the shot. Chillotov had his head in his hands after that one, his defenders were finally stopping shot and chances, only for him to bottle it at the other end.

That would prove to be the closest chance that either team would get in the game, to Mercedini's credit, they limited Electrum to a single-tame shot on target in the entire game so it wasn't a game that feasibly Mercedini could lose thanks to their defensive dominance. Their attacking prowess has seemingly left them when they needed it most, and they now have two clean sheets, but nothing to show for it since their goals column remains blank. It ended Electrum 0, Mercedini 0, with both teams now needing to win if they are to cause a shock and advance out of the group.

FULL TIME
Electrum 0 - 0 Mercedini

...and so now it comes to this. Mercedini versus Audioslavia, where have I heard that before? The stage may be different, the teams may be mostly different, and the prize may be different, but both nations will be fighting for a spot in the knockout rounds of the World Cup. In round one of the match-up, Mercedini stunned everyone, including the Bulls, to claim their first ever NSWC senior title at the 72nd Cup of Harmony, denying their opponents the Grand Slam. Now, it's for a spot in the Round of 16 of a competition which certainly eclipses the Cup of Harmony and would mean history for the Golden Eagles. Ko-oren versus Electrum will be the other game in the group to watch, with Electrum needing to win and win big if they are to avoid an early exit. We will be back here in Paladon Park for that one plus all of the post-game reaction, and we hope you have everything crossed for that one. Goodnight and Andiamo!

[Farfadillis]

"Röémün Çídh will be coming on for Horacio Bastanchury. Let's see if the Rulandese man has better luck in front of goal. We're trailing Valanora with twenty-five minutes to go, after a great goal by Lothas Ludwig. As things stand, the game against Mytanija will be nerve-wracking. Exihosahar takes the throw-in. Çí Xôrí grabs the ball. Dribbles past one, past another... that's a free kick! This could be a great chance for la Vherderoja."

Ӿ Ӿ Ӿ Ӿ Ӿ

Edmün Çídh positioned the ball in front of him. With rue Cazade having left the field with a muscle injury at half time, he was now in charge of free kicks. He eyed the box carefully. Tôsgo, as always, was going to wait outside the box, angling for a shot form the edge of the box if a good rebound went his way. Mbogo was trying to mess with the wall. Gallegas, as always, looked rather hopeless trying to figure out what he wanted to do. Far post? Near post? He was much better at sending crosses than at being at the end of them, that much everyone knew. Reluctantly, Edmün looked towards his brother. His intentions were clear: he'd try to sneak behind Kluge's back. Frustratingly, it made sense. Kluge was somewhat liable to lose her marker every now and then, at least when he played against her in the Vanorian league.

He looked towards the goal. It would've been easy enough to go for the shot. Nobody would've blamed him. It wasn't an ideal position, sure, but nobody could begrudge him the attempt. It's not like a cross looked like a clearly better alternative. The referee blew the whistle. For an instant, he pictured himself curling it over the wall. Calmly, he let go of that idea. He swerved the ball towards the far post. The ball went high, then came down quite quickly into the box. It was a perfect cross, he thought to himself. Kluge jumped, tried to get her head to it, but only managed to graze the ball.

Ӿ Ӿ Ӿ Ӿ Ӿ

"Edmün with the cross! RÖÉMÜN! GOOOOOOOOOOOL! GOOOOOOOOOOOOL! It's the equalizer! A brilliant cross from the elder sibling finds the younger sibling's head just a meter away from goal. There was nothing Miljeteig could do from that range. Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Çídh, whoever you are!"

Ӿ Ӿ Ӿ Ӿ Ӿ

"Edmün, I fucking told you to fucking drop fucking deep! Fucking!" Manguele shouted at him, possibly injecting some anger into his tone of voice.

Xüwân was failing to link up midfield with attack, so Manguele wanted to sacrifice Edmün's firepower by making him become an attacking midfielder of sorts. In his mind, this meant two things. If the winner came, he probably wouldn't be the one to score it, but there was a good chance he'd play a part in it. Especially considering neither Gallegas nor Alxíkí were having much luck forcing anything on the wings. With rue Cazade on the bench, only Çí Xôrí and him were capable of making a difference.

It was irritating, picturing his brother stealing all the headlines. If he scored another, he surely would. As the lone striker, he was likely to. Again, if a winner did come... if he were to secure a starting spot mid-World Cup because of two of his assist, he swore to God...

"EDMÜN!" Manguele was loud and clear.

He snapped back. Begrudgingly, he jogged his way towards the midfield. Just as he finished positioning himself correctly, Nørgaard managed to steal the ball from Riemann. He quickly relayed it to Çí Xôrí, who effortlessly sent it Edmün's way with his first touch. He hadn't even looked his way. Had he guessed he'd be there, somehow?

It didn't matter. He had to focus on his next move now. He controlled the ball, then turned around. He had some space. It always felt a bit insulting when the opposition let him have a few meters to himself. He now had enough time to look for options and decide at his leisure. Alxíkí and Gallegas were, once again, entirely nullified. Röémün looked like he might have a chance to break through if he managed a pinpoint pass. Nope. No way. He lowered his head and opted to continue making his way into Vanorian territory. With a nice feint, he managed to get past Heike Schoß.

He was now up against the Vanorian backline. Frustratingly, Gallegas and Alxíkí had lagged behind, as had the rest of the team... except for Röémün, of course. One of two things could happen now. Option number one, Kluge would stick to marking Röémün, and he'd be in a good spot to try to dribble past Winter and go for a shot. He'd played against him in the S-FPL. Option two, Kluge would press him, leaving Röémün in a good position to score.

It all happened very quickly, but Edmün would swear he felt a lot of frustration as he saw Kluge approaching. He sidestepped the Vanorian defender, then went for the pass just before Winter could clear the ball away. For his trouble, he got a kick on the shin as the Banija-based defender arrived late. The pass was precise. Röémün found himself one-on-one with Miljeteig and with a good second or two to decide what to do. Not like Röémün ever went for anything besides powerful, inelegant shots.

Edmün closed his eyes. The crowd would tell him if it had gone in.

Ӿ Ӿ Ӿ Ӿ Ӿ

"Mbogo with a great challenge! Çí Xôrí passes it to Edmün. Edmün with the pause. He dribbles. Röémün's free! Röémün! RÖÉMÜN! RÖÉMÜN! GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL! GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL! GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL! We'll have to wait for the VAR check, but there's no way that was offside! This could be the winner! We might be clinching a spot in the round of sixteen tonight. With ten minutes to go, Farfadillis beats Valanora two to one, Röémün Çídh once again the goalscorer! Brilliant night for the brothers."

Ӿ Ӿ Ӿ Ӿ Ӿ

Now back in print after a brief ten-year hiatus!

Heroic Röémün Çídh brace against Marauders sends la Vherderoja through to round of sixteen
Edmün Çídh was pretty good, too, I guess