World Cup 91 [roleplays]

[Vilita]

Do. Or do not. There is no try.

Stormcrait Facility, Rebel Training Grounds, Rebel Academy, Old Tivali Jungle, Vilita :: While Endur Rotropii and the Vilitan National Team were able to secure their first victory of the World Cup thanks to a One-in-a-million shot by Treasvo Tlikara, Endur Rotropii and the Rebel coaching staff still wanted the team to get back to basics after becoming the first Vilitan side in the modern era to los their first two World Cup Qualification cycle matches. In each of those defeats, the Vilita National Team came roaring back from a large deficit to nearly come back and rescue a point from the clutches of defeat. Ultimately, however, they still lost. Speaking to the media after the defeat at home to Geektopia, head coach Endur Rotropii told the reporters that they were extremely proud of how hard the inexperienced team of Rebels tried to make up for a bad start to the game with a spirited effort and great determination. However, Rotropii also pointed out, it didn't really matter how hard they tried to win... in the end they still lost. The Group 13 table did not care how much the Vilita National Team tried in their matches. The World Cup Finals would not be selecting the teams that tried the hardest to beat their opponents. There was no reward for Try. Either you Do, or You do Not. You earn points from your match, or you do not. Emphasizing the importance of getting back to the fundamentals and re-emphasizing the "Do" energy over the "Try" mentality - Rotropii suggested and the Football Association of Vilita agreed to move the matchday 5 fixture against Chartistan to a new venue: The Rebel Academy Training Grounds in the Old Tivali Jungle.

While a small section of temporary grandstands would be erected at the training ground, most fans with a ticket to the original matchup at the Tivali Ring Stadium would receive a refund of their ticket price with the option of retaining their ticket and still using it to attend the viewing party of the match at the Tivali Ring Stadium in Vilita's capital city of Alikki-Corra.

With the change in venue, the coaching staff would also change up the lineup looking to see if the environment would also help some of the veteran players still with the squad find their form that they had lost somewhere along the way. Two experienced players - Trezisi Rokopolis and Lentali Purama - would be invited into the starting lineup by Rotropii to mix in with an otherwise Academy-centric lineup that consisted mostly of players with single digit National Team appearances. Rotropii would also bring Eastal Lunar FC goalkeeper Zelkki Milake Jr. back into the lineup after sitting the netminder for the road match against New Eestiball. While there was little debate or conversation as to whether Milake Jr. was the most talented of the Vilitan goalkeepers, the confidence hit from conceding five goals in the UWC Title Belt match against the Holy Empire was something that the Rebel Academy's sports psychologists worked with Milake back in the Tivali Jungle while the rest of the team went on the road for the famous New Eestiball victory.

Truth be told both teams looked a little uneasy from the start at the training ground dubbed the 'Stormcrait Facility' according to the small marker at the end of the pitch. With fans walking at pitch level on the touchline and little separating them from the players on the benches or the pitch itself, it was a very informal and close environment for all. The tempo and pace of the game reflected the training ground environment as the two teams executed a lot of passes and a lot of touching of the ball though there was little in the way of audacious shot attempts. The few shot attempts that did go wide of the net resulted in non-trivial delays to the match as there were no ball boys to retrieve and no stands on the ends of the pitch to block the ball from going to far. On the Chartistan end of the pitch there was a large swamp about 30 yards behind the goal and a 33rd minute shot by Lentali Purama caught a little too much air landing smack in the middle of the swamp. A few adventurous fans attempted to fish the ball out but eventually the game had to move on and the Vilitan staff picked up another ball out of a nearby shed to keep things moving.

There was one first half substitution required when Jakku'u Naboyavi collided with a fan on the sidelines after trying to chase a ball to the touchline at the same time a Vilitan fan lost their hat in the wind and tried chasing it before it made its way onto the pitch. The resulting collision saw both lay on the ground for a matter of minutes and the Vilitan Coaching Staff decided it was best to let Naboyavi take a seat and rest for the remainder of the match. In place of the trainee the team brought on the Hero of New Eestiball, Treasvo Tlikara.

While the first half of play was about as exciting as watching 20 players conducting training ground passing exercises for 45 minutes, there was a different spark lighting the fire of the teams when they came back out onto the pitch for the second half of play. From the kickoff, Gabby "Alphafu" Yves and Holly Smier appeared to attempt to execute a training ground kick-off attack with the help of Little Exnash and Plasticium Amphibia along the wings. They sprinted up the field and collected onto the ball, shifting the Vilitan defenders around and creating space only for Amphibia to get caught by the fancy colors hitting the clouds just above the swap at the end of the pitch just as they were about to shoot the ball. The errant shot struck the post and bounced back into the path of Awukchu L'bakka who blasted up field where Fyin Miateal latched on into twenty yards of space then fired a hopeful shot of their own that managed to beat goalkeeper Slap P who had run up the pitch in anticipation of Slapping P with their teammates as it appeared it would be Chartistan and not Vilita who would be getting on the scoresheet.

Miateal celebrated the goal directly with the select group of Vilitan fans on the sideline and was booked by the referee Adoy Ugorg for the departure from the playing field and sideline antics. Head coach Rotropii was none-to-pleased either but decided that leaving Miateal on the field to play the remaining 42 minutes of the match with a yellow card hanging over their head would be a better teaching moment than to pull the Marine Coast United midfielder from the game and save them from the potential dangers of an early bath. Rotropii had a conversation with Miateal before the player re-entered the pitch explaining as much and stating that the penalty for getting sent off would be "more than just the automatic one game suspension".

Miateal and the rest of the team would survive unscathed through the remainder of the second half as activity would calm down following what would ultimately be the games lone goal. The closest that Chartistan came to leveling the scores came in an unsual spell just past the hour mark when Chartistan earned six consecutive corner kicks but only managed a single shot on goal during the exchange - on the very last corner kick of the sequence when substitute Mike Fourquarter softly redirected the delivery with their head straight into the arms of Zelkki Milake Jr. ending what would be the final danger of the match.

After two consecutive defeats to start the World Cup 91 Qualifying Campaign, Endur Rotropii and the Rebel Academy staff had hit the reset button on their youthful version of the Vilitan National Team, brought them back into the Jungle and made them chase balls into the swamp, earning a hard fought victory over a bunch of chart-toppers that seemed certain to instill confidence in the team as they would leave the Rebel Training Grounds and head back out on the road to continue their evolution as future Masters of Footsport and perhaps a route back to the World Cup Finals.

 Vilita 1 - 0 Chartistan	
	Vilita Goals:	:: 47' Fyin Miateal              
	Stats :: Vilita 	:: Possession: 57%:: Shots: 4:: Corners: 3 :: Chartistan :: Possession: 43%:: Shots: 4:: Corners: 9
	Vilita Lineup :: 	Zelkki Milake Jr., Awukchu L’bakka, Mikaela Äijälä (Enzoril Alabonni 64'), Narri Sebapilo (Khrusan Mlianko 76'), Letirpsi Vulitn, Trezisi Rokopolis, Jakku’u Naboyavi (Treasvo Tlikara 18'), Fyin Miateal, Lentali Purama, Diamoa Waviino, Takaara Milanzi

After struggling in the first two matches, Vilita National Team and Rebel Academy head coach Endur Rotropii had now gotten back-to-back shutouts delivered by two different goalkeepers, and talked to the media about the confidence the younger players were gaining on the pitch.:

"Really this is the reason we decided to come back here to the Rebel Academy Training Grounds. The youngsters were struggling in the big moment. The first two games we had tough opposition and you've got these kids who think they have all the talent in the world and they are just going to go out and take down the Empire with a single swing of their right leg. Well when you rush into a situation like that, the Empire is always going to win. These kids got hit for five goals in the first half alone. We needed an attitude re-adjustment. It wasn't malicious, it was just naivety. Inexperience. Now we've taken them back here to the swamp and they've played a good team in a familiar environment and didn't let them score. Thats what we wanted. We wanted them to approach the game right, settle in, and play the game we teach them to play here at the Rebel Academy. I'm really excited for the rest of this campaign."

[Trolleborg]

In his fourth trip of the season, Vidar was able to go again, as usual, with a regular charter flight. And he was very glad about this: he had to go to the country of robots, which is also in a region with which Trolleborg has no transport links at all. And the photos from Tekatus looked somewhat frightening - the combination of the outlines of buildings, the style of architecture in general, lighting and the appearance of the inhabitants, as it turned out, caused some vague anxiety and inner trembling in the inhabitants of Trolleborg. Something on a subconscious level, perhaps. But that's precisely why the team needs support from everyone who can provide it. At the moment of departure, the fans sat in the comfortable cabin of the huge FTST, and then it soared into the sky and headed for many hours to the mysterious Tekatus. From the latest update of the guidebooks, it was only clear that this country somewhat resembled something that the electronic predecessors of Keith and other modern Trolleborg computer systems could build, if given free will and physical embodiment. Vidar, in his youth, played a game that was quite exciting, although it never became super popular, where options for the development of civilization were worked out, and a couple of times he built a similar society, and he had already seen a lot in his life, so his culture shock was not so strong, like many Trolleborgians have.

The lighting in Robotland was indeed quite ominous to the Trolleborgian's eye, varying in intensity but remaining between dark-blue bluish and almost total blackness. The buildings erected in the new capital, therefore, did not look as frightening as in the pictures with modified light, because they were not particularly visible, from a distance they generally seemed to be a set of cubes and flats, as if result of the play of shadow and light.

But there was more light at the stadium, and it looked very strange - the stands were divided into sectors, and a separate tower was built for each, several tens of meters from one to the other, as if someone had dissected the usual bowl of the stadium and placed the fragments in a circle. Huge spotlights are stuck between them, flooding the arena, which was quite far from the stands with a powerful, merciless and blinding light, while the spectators themselves sit in the dark, everything together resembles a some sort of theater.

During the few hours spent in Tekatus, Vidar had already become accustomed to the sight of local residents, robots with human legs, but their behavior on the field was somewhat frightening - they showed a tendency with all possible speed and determination to rush with all their might at the players of the visiting team who were with ball. And players at first felt not at ease. Moreover, the opponents were clearly eager to recoup their failures: after all, in the BoF they won three matches out of three at the group stage, scoring 11 goals, and everyone predicted victory in the first round of the playoffs, but in the end the robots went home after this game. And in the WCQ their team suffered one defeat after another, which is why on their field, of course, they tried to do everything possible to replenish their points. But this time, fortunately, the Trolleborg team acted with concentration, and emerged victorious with a convincing 4-0 score, only one goal short of repeating the best results in their history. So, from the gloomy cubic city of robots illuminated by a deadly blue light under a sky slowly changing color from black to dark blue, the Trolleborg fans set off in high spirits and hopes for the best. How wrong they were...

[Pasarga]

The hope that new management would find a way to cure the inconsistencies of the Wanderers in both the offensive and defensive side of the game have seemingly fallen flat through the first eight matchdays of the current qualifying campaign. The Wanderers had hoped that the new Nephara born manager would be able to bring their system directly into the pool of players and get them to buy in immediately, erasing the massive inconsistency in performance from the side from matchday to matchday that has been the unfortunate circumstance of the team over the last two or so decades. That lack of consistency is what allowed the Wanderers to fail to qualify for two straight Finals and made qualifying for the last three to be very difficult, with the Wanderers having to claw their way back from the middle part of the group and into either an automatic qualifying position or a playoff spot in the second half of those campaigns. Unfortunately for the fans of the team, that seems to be looking like it will be a needed case for a fourth straight campaign, with the Wanderers four points back of the group leaders in Tikariot.

Just to exemplify the lack of consistency, the Wanderers hosted Barunia in the Stade de Torgos, a team that had a good amount of hope of competing for a playoff spot in the group and has a history of being a decent side all things considered. In front of the ninety thousand screaming supporters in the dual islands capital, the Wanderers blitzed the Barunia side with an Elek Salai hattrick in the first half and Ilona Kárpáty coming on in the second half and scoring a fourth while the defense was completely solid and kept Barunia from having any solid looks in on goal. It is the type of performance that you would come to expect from a team that has multiple trophies in their history and is the first seed in the group. It was a dominant performance as the best players were the best players for the Wanderers while all the role players played to their roles as they would have been instructed, giving an absolutely wonderful performance in front of the home fans and keeping the Wanderers within a point of the group leaders of Tikariot as they prepared to travel across Rushmore to take on the group and regional rivals.

However in Tikariot, the team that had looked so in tune with one another and able to dominate the Barunia side without too much extra effort was completely absent and instead there was a team that looked completely out of sync with one another as if they had just been eleven people pulled off the street and asked to play together. Elek Salai looked lost in front of net, the midfield struggled to connect passes to one another and engage in the final third of the field to link the team together, and the defense was far from the stone cold display that had been in Torgos just a few days before. In the end, the Wanderers headed back home on the wrong end of a three to nil defeat and their chance to take back the group lead had disappeared, once again having to chase the group lead as has been far too common of a trend for this supposedly elite team. It has to feel like a sense of a deja vu for all the fans that have been watching the team over the last few years, of a team that supposedly has all the promise in the world to win titles and yet they for some reason fall short when it comes time to do so.

The side needs to finish this first half of the campaign on a hot run or else they are going to be not in second but as far down as fifth as the team enters the halfway stage, which would be a very disappointing outcome for a team that is supposed to be among the best twenty teams in all the sport. The staff and the players all need to take a long, hard look at themselves in the mirror and ask themselves what can they do to stop this disappointing run of inconsistency, of playing so far below the obvious talent that has been assembled in the national pool. Too many players have come through the national team in the last twenty years that have been extraordinary and some of the best in their positions to be so poor in some of the most crucial moments. Perhaps it need be a case of making a new tactical style and shape when the team leaves the Stade de Torgos, as it is on the road that they have seen the most struggles and the lack of consistency. Whatever it is, the squad has to answer to themselves and the fans with the way they have failed to perform.

[Eura]

WORLD CUP 91 QUALIFYING – GROUP 8 MATCHDAY 5
Maphidon 1-2 Eura
Scorers:
Bowman 30, Robson 66
Lineup:
30. M Key
2. A Mason (sub Coffey 61)
4. J Menard
19. A Coles
5. T Green
3. L Almwood
6. S Erskine (sub Brown 57)
16. O Vincent
18. D Bowman
10. C Atkinson (sub Vivier 86)
9. S Robson

WORLD CUP 91 QUALIFYING – GROUP 8 MATCHDAY 6
Eura 2-2 Omerica
Scorers:
Robson 34, Malone 62
Lineup:
1. E Palmer
4. J Menard
15. K Sherwood
25. Q Phillips
24. J Gates
8. V Robshaw
11. B Malone
18. D Bowman (sub Woakes 80)
12. A Woodman (sub James 77)
14. S Singh (sub Atkinson 63)
9. S Robson

WORLD CUP 91 QUALIFYING – GROUP 8 MATCHDAY 7
Kuraita 1-4 Eura
Scorers:
Atkinson 3, Menard 40, Sharp 65, Woakes 72
Lineup:
13. T Hammond
4. J Menard
27. J Byrd (sub Coles 62)
25. Q Phillips
6. S Erskine
8. V Robshaw (sub Brown 75)
22. O James
7. M Woakes (sub Stewart 75)
12. A Woodman
10. C Atkinson
17. A Sharp

WORLD CUP 91 QUALIFYING – GROUP 8 MATCHDAY 8
Eura 1-0 Natanians and Nosts
Scorers:
Marshall 76
Lineup:
1. E Palmer
2. A Mason
4. J Menard
15. K Sherwood
5. T Green
23. E Reeve (sub Almwood 50)
6. S Erskine (sub Gates 77)
8. V Robshaw (sub Vincent 72)
20. R Marshall
10. C Atkinson
9. S Robson

Survivor

Eura vs Natanians and Nosts, World Cup 91 qualifying

Just fourteen minutes remained when Lucy Almwood was sent sprawling to the floor by one of Natanians and Nosts defenders. She flashed her arm in the air, screaming for them to be penalised. The referee took a moment before blowing their whistle and pointing in the direction of the goal just outside of the box. It was 0-0, and Eura had a free kick in a tantalising position.
Almwood was soon back on her feet and haggling for the ball, Eura’s set piece specialist sensing an opportunity for a moment of glory. But she hadn’t put many free kicks in the back of the net at international level. She was not a James McCroft, or a John Spartan for that matter. The angle wasn’t great either; this close to goal and off to the left, she would struggle to get this over the wall with the sufficient pace and dip to beat the keeper at the near post.

So, while her teammates milled around the ball, she discreetly gripped the hand of her teammate, Robert Marshall. She whispered something into his ear, then spoke to captain Jack Menard as he jogged up the pitch and began to prep for what appeared to be a direct free kick in the making.
Robert wandered into the box, his heart pumping as the full house of the Bastion Arena waited nervously for this late opportunity to get a winning goal. Then he saw a face. Sat in the stand behind the goal and about ten rows up was a young woman, about his age, steely faced with long brown hair. The moment he saw her, everything came flowing back.

Oakstone Southeastern District Hospital, many years ago

The nurse tapped the young boy on the shoulder. He turned around, his face pockmarked with dried blood and stiches.
‘Robert? We’re all ready in there. Are you coming?’
He didn’t say anything. Young Robert just looked back down at what was in his hands, unable to speak.
‘You don’t have to do it, you know. Its ok. She would understand. You’ve been through a lo-‘
‘I can do it.’
‘…are you sure?’
‘Yes. I want to see her please.’
The nurse smiled and gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder, before leading him through to the ward.

The siege of Oakstone was hell and this godforsaken room might as well have been its core. Overcrowded, blood all over the floor, screaming patients and flickering lights. The walls and windows shook every time a military helicopter landed at the temporary assembly area outside.
And right there in the middle was Robert. Sat with his mother on a bed that soon wouldn’t hold her anymore.
They had tried to leave Eura’s northernmost megacity when Sameban heavy artillery was starting to come in range of the outskirts, but they had left it too late after going back for his mother’s parents. They could not reach them – they would never hear from them again – and on the road out of town, a stray missile intended for a power plant had hit the motorway flyover their car was trapped on, unable to budge in a wall of traffic. In a moment of dizzying fury their car had been flung over and over and off the edge, coming to rest below between a tree and a house.

Robert, small and lucky, had been spared serious injuries beyond some glass cuts to his face. His mother…
Well, they had stopped trying to fix her and started making her comfortable instead. He didn’t really know what that meant at his age, old enough to know most of what was going on but not quite everything. He started to get an idea though as the urgency went from the medical professionals treating her, as the painkillers began to be rationed, as the nurse began going through her phone contacts looking for someone to look after Robert. Eventually the seriousness of the situation had got through to him when they told her she couldn’t talk or move apart from small hand movements.
He was not equipped to deal with it. Who could be, really?

All he could do was sit with her and be there. Once the nurse took him to her bedside, he took a chair and stayed with her. Now and then she’d weakly grip his hands, sometimes tightening more firmly in the worst moments – the dosages she was on were not as comprehensive as they would be in normal circumstances, for understandable reasons.
For hours and hours, without a word.
Right until the end and beyond it too.
The time came where someone else needed the bed. He got to say goodbye – briefly – and she was taken away, a sheet over her but not big enough to cover her bloodied feet. The nurse told him to wait while she got in touch with someone to get him out of the city, which he did. Hours more of waiting, this time back in the slightly less desperate waiting area, surrounded by traumatised fellow “Oakers”, the nickname for residents of this beleaguered metropolis.

Finally, after what felt like an age, the nurse took him outside, his hand in hers. She couldn’t have been more than thirty years old, but when he looked up at her, she might as well have been sixty. Her face was covered in grease and muck and the bags under her eyes suggested days without sleep. It was no wonder why. They walked for about half a mile along with several other older patients before reaching some kind of checkpoint, where she crouched down and handed him a small bag.
‘Your mum’s things are in here. When this is all over and done with we’re going to make sure you get to say goodbye properly? Okay?’ From the look on her face, the nurse needed that reassurance almost as much as Robert did.
‘Okay.’
‘Okay…okay. I’m going to leave you with these people now. It’s the army. They’ll get you somewhere safe. One of your uncles is going to meet you in Holdenberg. Good luck Robert.’
And like that, she was gone.

Robert had gone from a clinical setting to a thoroughly military one, it seemed. There were camouflaged tents and canvas everywhere with exhausted soldiers moving up and down, radios blaring out chatter, helicopters coming and going, and occasionally everyone present dropping to their knees as the dull thud of shells sounded out as they struck the towering walls of the…stadium.
It was a stadium. The Oak House. 80,000-seater and a Gold League venue. Now it was a fortress. Robert had been here only a few months ago watching his team, back when everything was normal. He stifled a tear as he wondered if he would ever come here again.
Suddenly he was in a queue and being frog marched to the front with another kid by a towering Sergeant from Ulsa or somewhere, his thundering accent familiar to most Eurans as most likely that of a north western miner – in peacetime, at least. Then he was onto the helicopter, its double set of rotors humming deeply.
The future seemed uncertain and scary. Robert wanted to get off – to run, to go back home, to find his mum or his grandparents. Why should he have to leave? It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair.

Yet as he tried to rise to his feet, he was stopped in his tracks by a voice behind him.
‘Wait – help me!’
Sat next to him on the Kevlar-clad benches was a girl, just about his age. She had a black eye, and her hands were bandaged up. On the floor lay a soft toy, a hippo or something. She was motioning towards it, unable to pick it up with her fingers and palms strapped away.
He leant down and picked it up, before carefully placing it in her lap between her wrists, so it wouldn’t get away again.
‘What’s your name?’ she asked.
‘Robert. What’s yours?’
‘Katie. Hey, do you know where we’re going?’ She looked over his shoulder, as if she knew what was on his mind. ‘Maybe we can be friends. If you want.’
For a few crucial seconds, he thought it through. The soldiers seemed distracted and ready to go – he could make it. He could go home...

And then he thought better of it. In just a moment, Robert had grown up more than he ever would have done otherwise.
‘Okay. Do you like football?’ He sat back down and one of the soldiers came over to do up their safety harnesses.
‘Yeah. I do.’
The ramp closed shut with a mechanical whirr and the kids distracted themselves with talk of the Champions Cup title and whether Craig Sinclair might come back. For the first time in a while, they felt safe again.

Eura vs Natanians and Nosts, World Cup 91 qualifying

Robert couldn’t take his eyes off her. He couldn’t believe it. It had been what, ten years since they had seen each other? He had returned to Oakstone while she stayed in Holdenberg.
She could tell he was looking straight at her and gave him a little wave. He waved back, otherwise unmoved as if in a trance, forgetting everything else going on around him.
She laughed and widened her eyes, then drew her fingers to them and pointed away, towards Almwood.
Robert turned his head to see his teammate lining up and returned to normality. The referee blew their whistle, and the Eura left back swung in a cross. Menard raced to the back post and climbed high in the air to meet the ball, thundering a header back down across the box. Vincent Robshaw held off a defender, Stewart Robson howled as he was “fouled” by a confused looking defender, and there was Robert Marshall, shaped by chaos beyond his control, now slipping through the latest mess in front of him to get his foot on the ball and tap it into the net.

The next day he was reading a paper in a Bastion cafe, its headline testing his sense of modesty.
”SURVIVOR IN WAR, NOW THE SURVIVOR OF THIS EURAN TEAM: WAR BABY MARSHALL CONFOUNDS CRITICS OF HIS SELECTION, BAGS WINNER”
He couldn’t help but laugh. Whomever wrote this had no sense of proportion, that much was obvious. He would see it again, as his uncle was no doubt at home cutting out the article and sticking it on the wall, like a professional footballer needed reminding he was famous now.
Still, if this kind of thing kept him in the Euran setup after a mediocre start to his international career so far, who was complaining? Not him.
A bag dropped on the other end of the table. He lowered his paper, and his face lit up.
There she was. There they were.
A pair of survivors, reunited once more.

[Oberour Ar Moro]

"What was your name again?"

Sous-Lieutenant Charles d'Aaci had commandeered an office in the Pelendava Police Southern District. Across the desk sat a very anxious young man.

“Lorete de Vry" The anxious young man answered. "Lowercase d - e - space - Capital V - r - y,” Sous-Lieutenant d’Aaci watched as Lorete rubbed the pointer finger on his left hand with the thumb on his right.

“Thank you, Monsieur de Vry. How can we be of assistance?” d’Aaci purposefully clicked on the plunger of his pen. It's important to demonstrate decisiveness in these interviews.

“It’s my co-worker at Mercury Sports, Bénigne Cixous. He hasn’t been to work for several days. He isn’t answering his phone, and I went by his apartment, and he wouldn’t answer his door. I’m afraid he might be…”

“Missing?” d’Aacy finished de Vry’s thought after some delay. The young man nodded, looking down.

d’Aacy gave a resolute smile. “I’m with the missing persons division with the Gendarmerie, so I was asked to sit down with you. We, the missing persons division, want to look into this matter. We do need just need some information from you, if you could be of aid.” He pulled a document on legal-sized paper out of a folder, putting it on the desk between them. “Getting answers to these questions will be of great assistance.”

The Sous-Lieutenant started going through the checklist. The basic information (“His given name?” “Bénigne.” “Anything further?” “I…don’t think so?”). On to physical description (“175 centimeters, 110 kilograms, 28 years old, brown hair, brown eyes.” “Build?”). Then habits (“I’ve never seen him smoke, he does drink. Beer, at least.” “How often would you say he drinks?”).

The clothing Bénigne was wearing the last time he was seen. Bénigne’s plans for the day he went missing. Details on the last time Bénigne was seen. Bénigne’s health and condition. Family and friends and associates. Early on Charles could tell that Lorete was having trouble with specific questions. Lorete and Bénigne were not close, obviously.

The missing persons checklist is long and exhaustive, for good reason. A missing person report needs to have as much information as possible that could help locate a person. Or find them passed out in a hotel room. Or find them with their second family. Or find their body washed up on a riverbank.

Still, Charles thought as he took in Lorete’s answers. Pelendava doesn’t have a large missing persons division and he hadn’t heard of this case yet. Surely someone closer with more information would have come in first.

After they completed the checklist, the Sous-Lieutenant pulled a manila folder from the desk and slid the completed form within. Standing up, he extended his hand to Lorete, who took it in his grasp.

“Thank you very much for your cooperation,” Charles said, pumping the young man's hand before letting it go. “I will generate the report, and if you could wait for a second at the front, the young woman at the front desk will provide a file number and the contact information for the investigator in charge. This information might change, so you can contact the department at any point. That information will be included with the document you are provided. Of course, if we have any information that we can provide we will contact you.”

Lorere stood up and acted as though he was ready to turn and leave, but something held him back. “Are you finished filling out that form?” he asked apprehensively.

Charles looked back at the young man. “Do you have anything to add?”

“Well...I mean…” Lorete looked troubled as he stumbled over his words. “There is one additional thing.”

Charles nodded and sat back down, all the while thinking that he had known Lorete was hiding something about this.

Lorete started speaking again. “You see, Bénigne always had an interest in…conspiracy theories, I guess.”

“Conspiracy theories?”

“You know, weird ideas about, uh…politics. And the…uh…world, and the…way the nation is…run, I guess.”

Charles needed to tread carefully here. “Lorete, what we’re discussing here is completely confidential, and if it can help us locate Bénigne…”

The unfinished throught hung in the air. Lorete swallowed hard, then continued further. “It’s like, some months back he talked about how he had heard that Oberour Ar Moro is covering up alien contacts. He also said that he had read a report about a Minister of Oberour Ar Moro having stolen money stored in a foreign bank account…things…like that.” Lorete looked back up, a scared look in his eyes.

Ah. Charles tried to put on a sympathetic face. Lorete didn’t think his acquaintance Bénigne was truly a missing person. Lorete thought Bénigne’s disappearance was more forced. Lorete thought it was forced because Bénigne said something that caused upset.

Lorete had come in because he wanted to know if Oberour Ar Moro was responsible. Maybe this was a common belief amongst his friends, his acquaintances, his work. Maybe that’s why this was the first time someone had come in about paranoid Bénigne Cixous.

Charles tried to smile. “Thank you for sharing that, Lorete. As I said, every piece of information you can provide can only help. The Gendarmerie will work to locate Bénigne.”

Lorete breathed out heavily, appearing more relieved. Though as Charles escorted him to the front, he couldn’t help but think this case had become much more difficult. Or easier in an unfortunate way, if Lorete de Vry’s worst fears were accurate. There's nothing to explain then.

Either way, he had to generate a missing person report. Charles sat down at a computer to do the necessary data entry. He started typing, first the name Bénigne Cixous, making sure he got the diacritics correct. As he entered data Charles wondered if he might get an early hit, from a hospital or from a different cities gendarmarie. He finished the basic report and clicked submit.

The system refused.

Tabarcul technology! Charles sighed with exasperation. He’s got a man sitting in a waiting room five meters away twiddling his thumbs while a computer program decided it would prefer not to do the thing it was created to do. Charles tried submitting again. Flat nothing doing.

Charles swore more deeply under his breath as he tried to remember what the procedure was for creating a report without the system assigned number. He jumped up and pulled out a stuffed three-ring binder and rifled through it, somehow locating the page with the necessary steps.

Much longer than anyone would have preferred later Lorete de Vry walked out of the department with a (Computer Error Standby) file number and (general investigation) contact information. As Lorete walked away Charles typed and clicked and debated calling IT. What a waste of his time! So much stuff to do and he has to deal with this?

Charles huffed and leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms. He could not remember this ever happening, and this while everything else seemed to work. He went back to the program's main page and just tried to search for Bénigne Cixous, wondering if he could input what he needed to from the opposite direction.

This time, he was able to locate a record for Bénigne Cixous. Charles was in the middle of grumbling about the fickleness of computers when the Cixious record loaded. But it wasn’t like any other record Charles had ever read or seen.

“What…” Charles involuntarily whispered, “...what happened to you Bénigne?”

[Graintfjall]

RP cutoff

RPs on MD4 (games 7 & 8) followed a familiar pattern, which I attribute to your collective consistent RPing!

• 71 RPs were graded.
• Of these, 15 received at least 90% of the max RP bonus.
• The mean RP bonus was ~67% of the max available.
• The median RP bonus was 70% of the max available.
• The STDEV of RP bonuses was ~21%.

Some headlines from the White Winter Queendom to entertain or bore as I try to perfect the Resultsinator Mk. 2

• Bioterrorism overtakes nuclear terrorism as leading security threat, think tank advises
• Prime Minister defiant despite tight labor market fueling fears of inflation: "I make no apology for booming employment"
• Crown Princess Kassandra visits Sabuja Parbata, Kkaputtstan as her world tour continues
• GANAX assures no danger as ancient weapons satellite crashes down in Rushmori ocean
• Zero Græntfjaller intellectuals panicked by moderately chunky woman on cover of lifestyle magazine, nation proudly reports

Results

[New Eestiball]

in the following, the names will be replaced by numbers.
1 was shocked. For years after the dissolution of the Centre Party, her Conservatives had been gaining ground against the more radical Nationalists. But over the past 15 years, it had gone the opposite way. 2 and the Nationalists were up to 20 seats in this election, coming up close to the 32 of her conservatives. The minority partner in the soon-to-be-formed government was a lot bigger. And the Nationalists had allied with the Anarchists, led by 3, who wanted to dissolve the state of New Eestiball! There was only one problem: 2's ridiculous gambit had succeeded. It was check to the Establishment. The Anti-INDECO alliance got 1/3 of seats, incapacitating militarily New Eestiball. The government was in a deadlock, aand there was nothing 1 could do.

OH NO I FORGOT ABOUT DEADLINE

this is a wip

[Guanacasteca]

Servicio Guanacasteco de Noticias

World Cup 91 - Pigs on The Track

Camilo Gutiérrez, on coverage of the 91^st World Cup Qualifiers.

Guanacasteca continues their path in the 91^st World Cup Qualifier, a slow but steady path is what the pupils of Han Ruoyang have been doing during the last couple of matchdays, as they continue their path leading them to earn more experience and grit as the time moves forward. I’ve said a lot of times that no fan should expect this team to qualify for the World Cup in this cycle, at least; might sound conformist or mediocre coming from a sports journalist, but it’s only a reality check we must keep doing to ourselves, as there’s big guns in this group than the past one.

By no means Guanacasteca should relax through the qualifier, instead, they should continue fighting as they’ve done, in a quite decent manner while attacking but also remembering how to defend themselves as they did during the last World Cup Qualifier, something that was good enough to, somehow, keep them floating in the middle. Now, part of experience is the talent to combine the best from the two worlds, the explosive attacking they’ve been enjoying during this Qualifier and also the defensive talent they achieved during the last cycle; Han Ruoyang has managed to push the team to come back to that situation during the last window, where The Pigs enjoyed a bye day due to the fact of playing in a World Cup Qualifier with odd-numbered teams in the groups.

Dylan Monterroza had a press conference yesterday, a peculiar one as he was able to provide some interesting insight about what the team has been working during said bye day. “We have to keep consistency in two fronts, defending and also attacking, football isn’t like a war since we don’t have to face ourselves to three, four or more sides, only two. We have been attacking nicely, scoring a lot of goals and that’s by the superb job that our forwards have been doing. Defensively-wise, we have been drilling quite hard in order to recover that block formation that we used to have during the Baptism of Fire and the last World Cup Qualifier, which are parameters we really care of, as were our first landmark in the WCQ stage and, henceforth, our reference point to keep up improving as of now.”

Block marks, a bit risky but something that fits in the style of Han Ruoyang, as the manager loves the kind of situations where the team has to work like a team (sorry for being redundant), they have to cover spaces and do some roles that they aren’t so used to do normally. The fact of not doing something common makes the players be constantly pressed to act wisely in their decision taking process, as they don’t want to let the manager go down by any kind of mistake or situation. The shared responsibilities and goals helped this team in the past to achieve defensive excellence, and I’m sure that they’ll find their way, once again, to achieve it.

Guanacasteca has an interesting second leg, as most of the heavy-hitters of the group have to visit us, that’s the moment where we can take advantage from the lessons learned and grab vital points for us, something that might be beneficial to build mood and confidence for what’s coming for The Pigs. Cup of Harmony (almost for sure) and the Copa Rushmorí are proving grounds for the next World Cup Qualifier, we should start planning those in order to get better and better results through time, earning consistency and consolidating this time for an eventual qualification (if possible) in a couple of cycles more.

Fans should continue to commit with the support of this team, the players have said in different conferences that they feel inspired and in a “great mood” when they see the venues of Estelí and Tibás completely full; the environment and the pressure cauldron built by them against the rival is noticeably intimidating and makes them feel uncomfortable. For us, a blessing, as our guys are completely used to it and the motivation of having almost 30k people cheering for you is significant; that’s why we should continue visiting the stadiums across the República Guanacasteca and contribute for the players and the FA to continue this process, as we will, for sure, reach the World Cup Finals someday. Keep it working, consistently and hard, because we will reach our final destination someday.

[Nyowani Kitara]

Part 1
Part 2

UPF Leader Muhoozi Kulan, talking with his senior aides

Muhoozi Kulan walked into the room, at his campaign headquarters, which were located in Downtown Inhalo. It had been a journey for him to get to this point in his life. 5 years ago, did he think he'd a shoo-in to get a seat in an elected National Assembly, let alone be running for President? How the times change. A few days ago, he had traveled to Ibarnet with other senior aides, to attend Nyowani Kitara's home World Cup Qualifier against Football Tiger. It had been a tight and cagey affair- while Nyowani Kitara had entered the game as big favorites, they had a massive contest looming after the game, a visit to sixth ranked Ko-oren. The same Ko-oren, of course, who were the World Cup 89 champions. Liang Wei had plenty of rotation before the match, as Football Tiger were the only team in Group 1 who had yet to win a game at this point. But they had been very close to pulling off their first win of the campaign.

Fortunately, Kulan and co. had watched his team hold on, under great pressure from the visitors. Nyowani Kitara's national team was not known for the strength or muscle of their defense- but they had enough to get the job done, at least against an opponent like Football Tiger. A few players had made their WCQ90 debuts on this Matchday, and Liang Wei stuck with the squad of backups that he started the game with- and won the three points. And now, Kulan and his aides were back at home, in Inhalo. They were preparing to watch Nyowani Kitara take on Ko-oren, in a visit that could have major implications for how the group would play out. At this point, it seemed as if there were 5 teams in contention for the group's auto-qualifier, as well as the group's two playoff berths- and Nyowani Kitara were in the thick of it, in a battle with Ko-oren, Delaclava, Sharktail, and Poafmersia.

While they flipped on that game in the background, they started their meeting. "Alright, my friends." Said Muhoozi Kulan. "Let's get this started. We've all got places to be." Muhoozi Kulan started going through the campaign budget. The UPF, as it was, were absolutely flush with cash. Because of that, they were able to step up their campaign into places that they thought were unreachable. They were flying door knockers out to places like Port Viljan, preaching the good graces of the UPF. One aide spoke up.

"You know, it is crazy." The junior aide replied. "How do we have all of this cash anyways? Your trip to Multinesia couldn't have been that great while you were a refugee."

"Well, I've told you." Muhoozi fidgeted in his chair, just a little bit. "I got great odds on Pemecutan, before the start of World Cup Qualifying, to make a run all the way to the World Cup Final. 500:1 odds. And they told me I was a fool- most idiots were betting on Banija or something." They laughed about it, and then the discussion continued.

"Muhoozi." The junior aide said. "You should probably fly up to Dewayo, give a speech there directly. Give one in front of the Presidential Palace. We can't just let the President have Dewayo as her fiefdom. We need to be holding more rallies there, challenging our President on her own turf."

"We can't trust the President." Said another junior aide. "You think she's going to allow for a speech to be given right outside her Presidential palace?"

"It is not up to her, of course." Muhoozi Kulan said. "We've got the Joint Electoral Commission, of course. They'll stop her... Excesses."

"That palace will be yours soon, Muhoozi." Said a separate junior aide. "May as well make it inevitable." They argued further about it, and then they decided. Muhoozi Kulan would inform the Joint Electoral Commission of his plans for a speed, on the street, outside the Presidential Palace. It'd enrage the President. Throw her off her game. And it would be the perfect symbol- the next President, in front of the Palace. They continued to watch the game as teams from neither side were getting a ton of chances. Ko-oren's defense was far too good for Nyowani Kitara to get any real chances, while at the same time they weren't exactly marauding forward. The game would end up a 0-0 draw- a fantastic result for Nyowani Kitara on the road, in all honesty.

---

UPF Leader Muhoozi Kulan, one day after the above events, at a cabin in a rural, southeast corner of Nyowani Kitara

Muhoozi Kulan had come back to this cabin frequently- it was his uncle's. Coming back here brought back memories, especially of childhood. It brought back some of his greatest childhood memories. And, of course, it brought back some of his worst memories. The excesses of the Akongo regime, particularly under Boaz, had been felt hard by Muhoozi Kulan. He had been staying the night at the uncle's house, to visit a cousin, when Muhoozi's uncle heard a door knock. KRF soldiers came to the house, all those years ago, and arrested his uncle- and his uncle was never seen or heard from again.

Kulan had seen, firsthand, the brutality of the Akongo Regime. It was why, at the beginning of the war, he had taken his opportunity to escape, as a refugee. And it was mostly why, when the war ended and the political system was opening, Muhoozi had determined that he needed to come back- despite the danger that he thought he was in, by so publicly opposing what he felt to be a despotic regime. But Muhoozi Kulan was in the middle of an election campaign, the first one in three and a half decades. There was no time to simply go at night, all the way out to a cabin way out in the boondocks, for memory's sake. Any politician from a democratic country would tell you- there were votes to garner, there were things to plan, doors to knock.

But it was the one place that Muhoozi Kulan felt could hold a secret. Nyowani Kitara was a country with a massive, multi-national, all-Rushmori peacekeeping force in it- and he had assumed, like most politicians, that those peacekeeping forces likely came with intelligence forces. That didn't even mention whatever internal forces Nafuna Akongo had. Surely, of course, she was being restrained- the Nepharans wouldn't allow her police and military forces to simply patrol and harass members of the political opposition. But he understood that he was likely being watched by all sorts of forces, friends or foe. And while there were people he knew he could trust, particularly President Wu, Kulan knew that his man did not want to reveal himself to anyone- even potential allies.

And so when Kulan walked into the house, he simply grabbed a hold of the old school flip phone on the table. All these burners. That's how Kulan communicated with his man. Kulan has been to Multinesia before, but of course he didn't have the foresight to place a 500:1 odds bet on Pemecutan to reach the World Cup Final. Multinesia was a party capital, of course, with all sorts of casinos for Græntfjallers to enjoy- but Kulan, even in his time there, was not much of a gambler. Fortunately, for this lie, there was no way to prove him wrong. Get lucky, get rich, fund your campaign. That's what everyone thought- from foreign intel, to the Joint Electoral Commission, to the general public. Even the President.

Kulan sent one text on the phone. And then, of course, he quickly received a phone call. "Hello, Muhoozi." The voice on the other side said.

"Hello, my friend." Muhoozi knew better than to say the man's name on the other side of the call. You never know who could be listening, even if they were both using burners.

"You need more cash?" The person said on the other line.

"We're good on cash now." Muhoozi replied. "We're gonna beat the President. Kick her ass. Nafuna Akongo will face trial for her crimes..." And he continued into a mini-rant about the President, and eventually stopped.

"Oh, absolutely we are." The voice said. "And you're going to be at the center of it." Muhoozi had been friends with the parents of the person on the other side of the line. Muhoozi Kulan and the voice on the other side had definitely been working well together. The other person had actually convinced Muhoozi to come back to the country after the war, and run for President. He had known Kulan was charismatic, had the energy, had the political instincts- even if he hadn't had a chance to hone them in what had previously been a closed political society. The other person, of course, provided the cash and funds. They spoke briefly about a few other matters.

"Oh, by the way- great game yesterday." Muhoozi Kulan said. The other person, of course, was a player on the Nyowani Kitara national team. "You had a chance yourself to win the game!"

"Ah, well. A point earned on the road against a team who won the whole fucking tournament just one cycle ago? That's a quality result for us." The national teamer said. "But look, I don't have time to chat about football. Anything else?"

"You know, I don't think you need to be so afraid. This is a different political era." Muhoozi Kulan said. "You can come to a rally..."

"Absolutely not." The national teamer said. "I like my job, thank you very much." And of course he did. They both knew- if he came to a rally, he'd be kicked off the national team. Were some things more important than sports? Maybe. "People like von Weber, those who defected from their own country- they are going about things the wrong way. I've stayed silent. I deal with Liang Wei's psychotic rants about the 'glories of socialism' and the 'Akongo-Ren Qiang bond' or whatever bullshit every day. Of course, he's a hell of a coach- even I have to admit he knows his tactics. But a dude like Sundin, or von Weber? They're out of the country. They're out of the conversation. Sometimes, it's better to sit down and shut up, and effect change in other ways. I'm doing more than any defector ever did, at least those who haven't come back." The national teamer simply left it at that.

"Yeah, you're right." Muhoozi Kulan said. "You know," Kulan said, broaching a different subject. "How did you get all this cash? Your Dad and I, we were poor together. And I know you play for the national team, but... I know they aren't paying you all that cash as a footballer in this country. The KWFA has to be broke."

"Ah Muhoozi, I've always told you." The national teamer said. "Ask no questions, and you'll get no lies, eh? Besides, you're gonna be President- trust me, you'd rather not know."

"Good point, good point." Muhoozi responded.

"Alright, good night Muhoozi." The national teamer said. Muhoozi hung up, and then, as he always did with the burners, just broke the flip phone in half. He dropped the top half of the flip phone into the creek right in his backyard, and dropped the bottom half into the sewer by his house- ensuring that phone could never work again. He waited for a few minutes, and then started his long drive back to Inhalo. He didn't need to worry about money right now- he had a campaign to run, and hell, a campaign to win.

[Gortolekua]

previously
It was a new morning, and all one hundred of the Ranger recruits were in the mess hall once again. They all sat with the best posture they could muster up for an early morning—Cerys Hooper, the recruits' trainer, would rip each and every single one of those recruits a new one and have them thank her for it if they were found sitting with bad posture.

She walked down the aisle that split the recruits into two sections of fifty. She didn't look happy with the group, but she never looked happy after that first day of training, when the country's Premier welcomed them to Point Foothill.

The sound of her boots, squeaking slightly with every stride, made everyone in that mess hall squirm. And her voice would make everyone melt in fear.

"Those poems you all wrote were some of the most atrocious poems that have ever been written in the Ranger program's history," Hooper bellowed to the recruits. "Do any of you know how to use the Common language to your advantage? Did any of you even pass a basic writing class?"

Recruit after recruit refused to make a sound, knowing they'd have it coming if there a sound came from them.

"None of you can express yourselves in a way that makes me believe it's actually you writing. You're trying to be this and that, that and this—well guess what: I want you to be you. The only one of you who actually understood what the fuck this assignment was for was Delgado."

The whole room turned and looked at Cash. He pointed at himself, mouthing "me?" in disbelief—he knew he didn't try when it came to writing a poem, let alone a good one.

"You actually were honest with yourself, unlike the rest of your fellow Ranger class. Stand up to the rest of the crew here and tell them what made yours special."

"I thought it was stupid," Cash said.

"And your dismissal of this activity was the most honest thing this program could have ever asked you to do," Hooper replied. "Because we value honesty here, first and foremost. Our work is classified to the rest of the nation, but we are honest among each other. Is that understood?"

Everyone nodded at their different rates. Amid the varying degrees of infernos they had all gone through, alongside the fact this program seemed to get more confusing by the day (a greeting from the head of government, lengthy amounts of hellish physical exertion and now questionable poetry workshops), the newbies all had a feeling this was the first time they heard something honest and genuine.

"Good. Now, if we can continue on, I'll discuss project assignment for your work here on Point Foothill."

René chimed in, like he had to get something off his chest, which may have been the biggest mistake of his time on the island.

"What about my poem? Do we get any feedback?"

"Recruit Lorenzo," Hooper barked to René. She was caught off-guard by the fact someone chose to retort to her words, deemed the gospel by several Ranger classes before. Now, someone challenged it.

"Yes, Trainer Hooper?"

"You think I give a shit about society not knowing you as a person? 'Boo-fucking-hoo, my girlfriend broke up with me and I feel so misunderstood by the world and my dad sucks.' Give me a fucking break."

The Rangers were stunned, yet silent for they knew what would come if there was another peep from them..

"We've all got our damn problems that don't end. You have no clue what you're doing here other than 'I want to make a difference.' I'm here to help you. Not to make you a better poet, but a better asset for this country. We write poems to assess what your skillsets are for this program, not to make you better writers. If you wanted to be a poet, you would've gone to school for that, wouldn't ya?"

"Yes, Trainer Hooper," René replied, sheepishly.

"Good. Your outburst, though, does require me to do some re-calibrating for project and work assignments. You will be on Project QZ. Delgado will be working with you on Project QZ, making sure you don't step or stay out of line. Is that understood?"

René sighed. The one thing he didn't want to have to deal with outside of his rest situation was his bunkmate. And now the two were intertwined in their work project.

"The rest of you all can thank René for his outburst...we'll have to delay the rest of the project announcements to dawn."

Everyone groaned at having to wait longer. But there was some curiosity bubbling in the air now. They were wondering what they would get to do on an island known for its secrecy. It was mythical, to say the least. But most importantly, there was one question that left everyone, including Cash and René wondering:

"What the hell is a Project QZ?"

[Ceni]

Wibbly Wobbly, Timey Wimey

Chapter 4: Selwick's Backdoor

Jaina Ende-Dogor was a woman on a mission: bring critical inconsistencies in the data from the portal at the time of AT7093's disappearance to her colleague for analysis. There was only one small problem: she had forgotten the data to show him.

And so she started to run back to her office to grab the data, huffing and puffing like the Big Bad Wolf. But at least she made it to Jon-Liam's office right on time. She stopped to catch her breath.

Her colleague Jon-Liam Selwick looked at her quizzically. "I need your help," she panted. "It's urgent."

"Look what the cat dragged in," said Jon-Liam with a sly smile. "What's with all the huffing and puffing?"

"My breath ran away from me," said Jaina, still trying to slow down her breathing, "and I guess I've just now started to catch it."

"Funny one," said Jon-Liam. "So why were you running so quickly to get to my office? I probably wasn't going to leave for a couple of hours."

"Fuck me," said Jaina under her breath, and the physicist wanted to just facepalm right then and there. "I've been investigating the big portal malfunction from a few days ago," she continued, "and I noticed these inconsistencies in the data."

"Do tell, do tell!" said Jon-Liam, with the enthusiasm of a fourth-grader presenting his winning science fair project.

"It seems like something got closer to the portal machinery in the space-time pocket, but I can't tell exactly what," explained Jaina. "I only have the proximity data, so I was wondering if you could help me get some more detailed data from the inside. Otherwise, well, I can't tell anything."

"Why don't you have the data already?" wondered Jon-Liam.

"Here's the thing," said Jaina. "The portal won't let me have it, and my spidey-sense is tingling."

"If you can't have it, and you have official imprimatur," Jon-Liam said, "then why would I be able to get it?"

***

Luke Longstar stared intensely at his computer. An email from the Cenian Football Association had just come in, and it sat at the top of his inbox for an interminable time. Luke refreshed to see if it would suddenly disappear or something, but it remained there like a lead-weighted balloon. So he wasn't imagining it, Luke concluded. With his heart pounding, sweat dripping into his eyes, and his hands trembling, Luke clicked on the email.

He read it once quickly, then another time more slowly. He wanted to delete it from his inbox, and deleted it. Then he undeleted it.

Of course, the email didn't say much about history. The FA probably didn't dwell much on history, Luke thought. It always focused on the future, and given Ceni's record of inconsistencies and disappointing matches, Luke understood its reticence to engage with the past. And, if the foul play existed like he suspected, the FA wouldn't want to open that can of worms with its first email to him.

Luke thought the language dry and bureaucratic, carefully worded by a legal expert to avoid any admission of guilt. The email essentially apologized for the trauma that Luke must have gone through, but it was a non-apology in many other respects: Of course Luke hadn't experienced the last 22 years, so the FA really didn't have much to say in regards to those events.

But the important thing came at the end of the email: Since the old Cenian national team had returned, the FA asked, would Luke lead it to the World Cup another time?

***

Jon-Liam Selwick scratched his beard whiskers and spun around in his chair to look outside the window. He looked pensive, almost like that Rodin sculpture. "I know I sounded pessimistic before," said Jon-Liam, "but I think there's a way I can use a back-door method to get access to the images that you want."

"Okay," said Jaina, "let's do it."

"Now, it won't be instantaneous," cautioned Jon-Liam, "so you'll have to be patient. But I'll give you a call when I've finished skulking around in their administrative systems. You can look at the images on my computer."

"Can I give you a program to analyze the images?" asked Jaina.

"Yup."

"See you next year," said Jaina with a smile on her way out.

"Jaina!" yelled Jon-Liam.

Twenty-seven hours, thirty-four minutes, and six seconds later, Jon-Liam had finished his skulking and skulduggery and run Jaina's analysis.

The results were clear: AT7093 was the object that had triggered the portal's proximity sensor. But how did it get there? Why did it get there? And when would it come out?

***

Luke put the finishing touches on his reply back to the Cenian FA. He almost wanted to tell them to fuck off and shove their offer up a particular body part, but he was not vindictive like that.

"I'm honored to lead the Cenian team to the next World Cup," wrote Luke, "and I will be happy to take any player that wants to come with me after everything that happened."

"But you'll have to send me your new address: I'd like to meet in person sometime."

Luke clicked send with a sense of achievement, but also a sense of deviousness: If he succeeded in the World Cup, perhaps he could get closer to the Cenian FA -- and figure out what had happened in the last twenty-two years.

[Hapilopper]

Capital Stadium, Hapilopper City
After World Cup 91 Qualifying Match 9: Hapilopper 3-3 Caribbia

Nathan Ellis looked over at the team from Caribbia celebrating the fact they had actually pulled off a point against the Haps and it made his blood boil. He wasn’t pissed off at the Caribbeans – not by a long shot. There was nothing to be pissed off with them about. They had played their game and caught the Hapiloppians off-guard. To Nathan, the Haps had gotten arrogant and had lost sight of the fact that any game – every game – posed a chance of being both a pitfall and a pratfall.

Nathan was the last Hapiloppian player on the pitch. The rest of the team had made their way into the locker room at that point, and having not been all that bothered with the fact that they had allowed a team on the bottom of the table to leave Capital Stadium with a draw. That bothered Nathan as well. To him, they should have been fuming over the tie. Figuring the Haps had dropped that tie fair and square, Nathan walked over to the Caribbean team and shook the hand of as many players as he could, graciously congratulating them for the tie.

But when he was done, Nathan stormed to the Hapiloppian clubhouse, where he was about to give his team a piece of mind. One hell of a piece of his mind. He wasn’t pissed off at Caribbia – they played fair. He wasn’t pissed off at the referees – they hadn’t screwed the Haps over at all. He was pissed off at his team, who just plain didn’t play to their standard. And when he got back to the locker room, something set him off. It was the fact that a stereo was on, players were acting as casually as ever, and some were even playing video games on a nearby television.

That was it. Nathan grabbed the stereo and heaved it through the television, demolishing both devices.

The players playing the video game stopped immediately. Some of them wanted to give Nathan a piece of their mind, but Nathan gave them a very deadly glare, daring them to say something. He grabbed a steel chair and put it in the middle of the area around the lockers.

“Everyone, gather. NOW,” Nathan snapped. “We need to talk. ALL OF US.”

Nathan sat backwards in the steel chair and stared down the entire team as he thought about his words. You could hear a pin drop in the Hapiloppian clubhouse, players either scared to speak up or pissed off at the fact that Nathan was, to them, overreacting to a tie.

“Let’s start off with some facts, shall we?” Nathan started. “Y’all will get your chance to talk but this needs to be addressed NOW. Coming into this match, we led by six fucking points. Caribbia was last – DEAD FUCKING LAST – in the group. They had one point. ONE POINT in the whole god damn group after seven matches. So why – WHY in the blue hell did they end up taking a point out of this match? WHY in the blue hell did we not smack them down like we did Eastfield Lodge or Baggieland?”

Nathan stared at the team as he scanned the room. Maybe he was looking for someone to yell at. Maybe he was looking for someone who might not be taking this seriously. Either way, he was looking around, just waiting for the right moment.

Nobody was giving it to him. Everyone in the room was deathly silent, some looking down at their feet, many looking ashamed.

“Three three. Caribbia had no right to be level with us,” Nathan snapped. “None at all. This team is so much better than that. But you know something? What the hell was I talking about a few weeks ago? Huh? Before the East Murbley match. Who here remembers what I said?”

Nobody said anything.

“Well, god damn it, everybody speak up at once,” Nathan continued. “Maybe I wasn’t being clear enough that night. I talked about getting arrogant. I talked about us feeling like us winning the game before it was even played. And I feel like I didn’t get through to ANY of you. Because I saw something tonight that pisses me off more than if we had gotten screwed out of that match by some sort of bullshit. You sons of bitches got arrogant. You sons of bitches carried such a lax attitude coming into this match and it SHOWED.

“I’m not going to tolerate that anymore,” Nathan explained, his tone of voice as biting as it had ever been. “I said that if you don’t take every opponent seriously, they can be just as dangerous as, shit, I don’t know, Valanora?”

“Yeah, well, we beat them,” blurted out Piers Adcock, a backup defensive midfielder, who had enjoyed all of ten minutes of playing time during the campaign. “Maybe put me in the match and we would have won.”

That was a mistake. A huge mistake. Nathan now had a target for his venom, and he didn’t mind placing all of his venom on Piers, who had done nothing but been an irritating pain in the ass for the rest of the team. Piers was arrogant as they came, coming in with an attitude that he belonged on the pitch, he was the future of Hapiloppian football, and that everyone should bow down to him. In fact, Nathan had thought about laying him low once when Piers suggested that maybe Nathan should retire and give him that spot.

Nathan got up out of his chair and slowly walked towards Piers, who was starting to realize he had just made a huge mistake. The rest of the team didn’t know what to think – either fearing the possibility of a violent incident in the locker room, or maybe looking forward to seeing Nathan humble this prick in a huge way.

“What did you say?” Nathan asked quietly – so quietly, that it was almost at a whisper. But you could see veins bulging out of his forehead.

“Uh… I said, uh… that we… beat Valanora,” Piers replied, all of a sudden extremely nervous, fearing what was coming next.

“No, no, no, that’s not good enough, Adcock,” Nathan responded, still deathly quiet. “You interrupted me. That was a dumb move. Since… you feel like you have to have the floor at this instant, I want you to tell the rest of this team why you being out there would have made the difference.”

“Well… I mean, uh, well… you know, this being the best players and such… maybe you kept… you know, the best on the bench?” Piers attempted.

“So, it’s my fault,” Nathan replied, his voice starting to raise. “Everyone here is as casual as ever, cutting up, oh, they’re gonna enjoy a good game of football, and we’re gonna win by eight goals and everyone’s gonna be happy, right, Piers? We may get one of those scorigamis that that Jeremy Jaffacake fella talked about a few years ago, right? But oh, since old Nathan Ellis is still out there on the pitch while the great legendary Piers Adcock rides the bench, oh, Team Hapilopper suddenly can’t get the fucking job done against Caribbia.”

“Look, what I meant…”

“Say another word and I’m going to bash your fucking face in,” Nathan snapped. “You’re on the bench because you put yourself on the bench. Your attitude leaves a lot to be desired, and it’s high time it changes RIGHT NOW or so help me God I’ll change it myself.”

“What are you gonna do, Ellis?” Piers snapped, suddenly having gained a little bit of bravado. “You touch me and I’ll press charges against you. I’ll have you arrested and then I’ll take your place on the team.”

Dom Probst, Thom Perkins and Myrone Rhule, conferring in the office, heard the commotion and came out to see what was going on, and found Nathan about two inches from Piers, on the verge of throwing a punch.

“I am the future of Hapiloppian football and you ain’t gonna change it,” Piers snapped.

“Bullshit,” Dom interjected as he walked in to separate the two. “You’re going nowhere with that attitude. There’s a reason Nathan is still on this team as a player, and that’s because he can get the job done and because he can whip y’all into shape. My advice to you, Adcock, is to shut the fuck up sometimes. You don’t talk back to Nathan Ellis, especially when he’s trying to give y’all some life lessons.”

“Man, fuck that,” Piers snapped. “We would have won that game if you put me in.”

That was it. Nathan hauled off and threw a left hook that found its mark, decking Piers and putting him to the ground. When Piers came to a few minutes later, Dom informed him that he would be asked to stay home for the next five matches in order to “think about his attitude.” Nathan, meanwhile, would not be facing any sanctions.

If anything, that had to be done. There was no way Team Hapilopper could allow a team like Caribbia to come into their house and take points away from them and just be OK with it. Something had to be done.

[The Cordian Isles]

The Cordian All-Star

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Is There A Chance?

We’re eight matchdays into World Cup Qualifiers, and what we’re seeing from the Cordian side is pretty solid, which is causing many Cordian sports fans to ask the inevitable question: Is there a chance for the North Stars to qualify for the World Cup?

The short answer, of course, is yes. There’s always a chance, it’s just not always a very good or even remotely likely one. But this run does feel very different from the last cycle, where the Cordians were struggling overall and notably inconsistent, with results ranging from a draw to Nimishzz to a victory over Pemecutan. That’s something that seems to have left in this new iteration of the North Stars. Seven matches in, the Cordians have consistently beaten the teams they’re supposed to beat and lost to the teams they’re supposed to lose to. That said, some of the losses haven’t been pretty, specifically the two 2-5s against Mytanija and Quebec. So there’s both some pluses and minuses looking at this team.

A look at the upcoming schedule is also important when deciding the Cordians’ chances of advancement to the playoffs. The next set of matches sees the North Stars facing off against Qasden and the Licentian Isles. These are two teams that it’s a little hard to get a read on. Qasden has been a bit inconsistent, with a somewhat surprising draw with Vdara balanced out by a draw with Treekidistan and a very close match with Hopal. If our fellow AO citizens play on the lower side of their potential, there’s certainly a good chance to defeat them. On the other side of things, the Licentians have been consistent in beating low seeds and losing to high seeds. A victory over them in the coming week would be a major upset and one that would set the North Stars well forward on their path to qualification. In short, the next two matches will be a very good diagnostic of how the North Stars are playing and their chances at the World Cup. Defeats would mean the Cordians are playing as they should, and while they would be blows, they would be expected. Victories over the Pot 4 and 5 sides would set the Cordians firmly into that fourth slot and potentially higher, right on the edge of qualification.

So overall, we don’t really know yet what the ceiling of this North Stars side is, and that’s something we’ll find out this week. The next set will see the end of the first half of qualifiers as we enter the back stretch of WCQs. If the Cordians keep playing as they have, we will see a substantial improvement in ranking at a minimum, with a Cup of Harmony berth almost certain and a WC Playoffs berth remaining possible. This is also a week that will see some stress for the top-ranked sides in Group 6, who will all be facing matches against weaker competition where dropped points would hurt them a lot, so there’s a lot to pay attention to as the fifth set of qualifiers begins.

---

---

The Cordian All-Star

---

Group 6 Power Rankings

Seeing as these always make these interesting, here we go.

1. Quebec
The Pot 3 side has been dominating Group 6, recording a plus-17 GD and nineteen points from seven matches, with a match in hand over their closest competitor, Vdara. They’ve done well in big matches, too, with a 2-0 victory over Mytanija and a 0-0 draw with Vdara that put them on the top side of the dangerous group comprising the top 3 seeds. The Grim Reapers will look to run away with the group in the second half of qualifiers, and the biggest question is if anybody is good enough to stop them.

2. Vdara
The other undefeated side in Group 6 has proven itself to be just as formidable, with dominant performances over the low-seeded teams instilling confidence in the Pot 2 nation. Vdara’s only dropped points have been acceptable ones, with draws to Quebec, Mytanija, and Qasden.

3. Mytanija
Coming into this group seeded first, Mytanija currently sits out of the playoffs in fourth due to a pair of painful losses to Gardelrya and Quebec. However, the former was an anomaly and the latter was to a team that’s picked exactly the right time to pop off. Mytanija will make the playoffs at a minimum, and this is easily a good enough team to pull itself together and qualify.

4. Qasden
Qasden has done what’s been asked of them, and little more, with their scorecard featuring close victories over Hopal and Bongo Johnson alongside a pair of draws with Vdara and Treekidistan. They haven’t done much to prove that they deserve more or less than their four seed, so that’s what they get. Coming up for them is a big match against Mytanija that will give us a better idea of just how good the Cats can be.

5. The Cordian Isles
Jumping two spots from their seventh seed are the Cordian Isles. Of course, we’re biased, but currently sitting at fifth with twelve points and a victory over sixth-seeded Treekidistan in hand, it seems logical to rank the North Stars above Treekidistan and the Licentian Isles, the latter sitting at seventh with nine points.

6. The Licentian Isles
It wouldn’t do to underestimate the Licentians. Yes, they sit at 3-0-4 and seventh place. But they’ve beaten every lower seed they’ve gone against and lost to every higher seed, so there’s not much to complain about here. With a match coming up against the Cordians, a victory would give the Licentians a much-needed boost and leave no doubts about their spot as the five seed.

7. Treekidistan
Treekidistan is only a spot lower than their seed because of their loss to the North Stars. Other than that, the Treeks have been pretty solid, with a draw to Qasden their most surprising result so far.

8. Bongo Johnson
Having defeated the three sides below them on this list, Bongo Johnson takes eighth. Nothing much else to say here.

9. Gardelrya
Gardelrya comes in close behind Bongo Johnson, with a 2-0 victory over first-seeded Mytanija on their record, but all signs point to that being a complete and utter fluke and Gardelrya has lost to Bongo Johnson, so it’ll be Gardelrya in ninth.

10. Hopal
A Baptism of Fire side, Hopal’s only victory has come against Beepee, and while they’ve come close, they haven’t managed to put points on the table other than that match.

11. Beepee
We love our TSP friends, but Beepee has failed to win, failed to score, and failed to put any points on the table in each of their eight matches so far in a brutal return to WCQs for them.

[Vdara]

beans

[Independent Athletes from Quebec]

Avalon

PART 4.2 - 만조상해원경 (萬祖上解寃經)

So this is the way it's going to go.

Dr. Heo was walking into middle of the trail, looking at the series of rolling hills seen that he's about to face in front of the hills. This trip had come unexpectedly so - first came a visit by the Christine II, a former student of his who's now the monarch of this portal nation. This was then followed by her enquiry about rare, past occurrences of incidents involving those possessed with innate abilities coming from the spirits of this land. Then came the unexpected invitation, and he, without any event that could not be rescheduled outside of his appointment, had agreed to it.

Thus, the last twenty-four hours had seen the mentor, who had put two days of paid sick leave, and his protege, who had placed a self-duplicate of hers back in the Palais, heading off to a three-day trip in Sandhouse Cottage, a quiet property three hours north of Joongyeong.

Have I gotten this old? Or have I gotten that far behind the world? thought he, as the wind started blowing into their direction. Walking half-a-kilometre pace behind his student, even without the royal protocol to avoid walking in front of her, was not the way he had expected things to turn out on the trail. No matter how old and frail he had gotten Dr. Heo, whose two children Myeong-Shin and Myeong-Yoon have become two of the most prominent sporting icons in past twenty years, had gotten used to thinking as if he was still his forties when his children were teenagers and his wife Maureen was still alive.

Maybe I have, Dr. Heo agreed, as the wind continued to blow over their faces, forcing him to grab the glass frames with both hands in order to keep them from blowing into the air. This wasn't his own fault, however, as life's course had brought him to an unexpected spot. Over the past six years, Dr. Heo unexpectedly ended up from the position as a mere professor of research, the one whose age and acumen had remained well above and beyond his age, to a figure of even greater positions. Being the Chair of Royal Archives - the position once considered secondary to his primary position as Jacques IX Professor of History and Comparative Literature at his alma mater, Seonggyungwan University College at Univ. St. Croix - ended up being a more demanding one than one he's come to expect when he came to accept the offer.

At various points during his position, Dr. Heo had seen every shape and form of the Capitoliens, whose undergraduate behaviour had often come up with sense of privilege, but the biggest part of it all involved HRH Christine, then-Princess of Abitibi as the first in line of succession to the throne, as he had come to develop a strong mentorship with her from the first year 'Introduction to Cultural and Intellectual History of Quebec and the Commonwealth' module.

Her behaviour, from the way she had spoken of the ancestral spirits to being in part of this immense turtle, located on the mantle of this land, was by no means normal. Then Christine, her father's declining conditions affecting her mind as she had worked herself closer to the tripos, had further developed the connections he, a devout practitioner of Quebecois Buddhism and Taoism that always held shamanistic elements, had only heard of from tales and records. Those that he had never imagined to see from anybody, let alone a Regina.

Perhaps my biggest weakness, the one that had landed me this position, was my faithfulness to it all.

It was then that he, his head looking towards the ground while on bottom of a small hill, felt a thud as he fell backwards. A blast of wind hit him, which was then followed by a light wave of dust. His head now facing the sky, Dr. Heo could see what had happened.

'And there she goes.'

Dr. Heo said as he watched a single, thin ray of light flew across the sky from the east to the west. It was a quick show, for it, distinctive on the beginning, became smaller and smaller until he could see nothing.

[Huayramarca]

Public Servant

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

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Part 4 – A Starters Guide for Presidency.

Sopocachi, Huayramarca D.M. June 2^nd, 1985

Juanito asked for her mom for some food, he was hungry as the rally lasted quite a bit, it was 9:30 p.m. already and nobody there had eaten something after the inauguration of Marta Mamani as a president of Huayramarca ten hours ago. David, an aide of Marta accompanied him to eat something as Marta had to attend some people and a councillor that she had assigned to do her job in the presidential seat, not something that would be needed according to her but nothing to reject as it could be handy.

“Hi, Martha, I’m Víctor Quispe. I’ll be your advisor during the period, I’ll make sure that your orders and requests are fulfilled as requested, your Excellence!” Marta, usually a humble person who didn’t liked that kind of stuff, but not a blatant person, decided to go with a mild “Hi, Víctor. Nice to meet you!” Víctor said “Shall we go to eat something? We can go to the restaurant down there; I’ll make sure you’re attended as a priority there.” Marta replied “Ok, let’s go to eat there but let’s follow the queue… I don’t like to jump off queues as if I were a cocky Electrumite diplomat.” Víctor cackled and said “Electrumites, eh?” Marta said “They only do diplomat stuff; they can’t do anything else with their lives.” Víctor now laughed loud but excused himself, Marta reprimanded him softly “Be yourself!”

Both of them walked towards the restaurant, Marta reminisced that it was the restaurant he used to work prior being contacted by Augusto Buendía and her introduction into the world of politics. Entering there, she noticed that everything was the same as it was before, except for some new faces, but all the colleagues she had during his labour times in the place continued to be there. “Marta, come up here, don’t be prepotent with us!” Marta walked towards them and hugged each one, a conversation about life and family “I admire how valiant you were to denounce those persons, and even more brave to pardon them publicly!” Marta said “Nah, nothing to admire, it’s a matter of dignity.” Although some others who didn’t even liked her, when she was working there, muttered “You dirty guerrilla criminal” Marta listened but ignored, she was having a nice time with the cooks there, but she decided to return to the queue and let them continue serving food as normal.

Víctor was making some gestures from behind, it was him indicating her that he had already reserved a place to eat, something normal among people in Huayramarca and accepted socially. Marta asked for some food and then called Víctor to help her carry the food to the table, as it was a quite big food tray; then both seated and started to talk about some matters “So, Ms. Pres…” Marta interrupted “Marta, please.” Víctor continued “Ok, Martha. So, I’ve been told that there are some initiatives that are important for you. Do you wish me to give follow ups and updates on those?” Marta answered “Yes. We have two important projects as of now. First and foremost, AORTA, as we need to make Huayramarca a hub for logistics in Anaia, this is our golden chance.”

Víctor asked “We could propel that initiative, henceforth bolster the odds for approval at the Assembly if we say that we have a quite high percentage of Industrial Engineering students that are currently unemployed, hence, we need to create new jobs with that kind of initiatives, that’d be a win for us, them and their families.” Marta continued “How high is the percentage?” Víctor replied “26%, around 150,000 people” Marta sipped some coffee, breathed and said “Unbearable. We need to create value and enhance the supply chain of those enterprises with some highly-skilled labour, let’s try to do this as fast as possible.” “Anything on mind, Martha, there’s a lot of chances!” said Víctor. Martha took some time to think and said “Let’s get some quick wins first, then we will see how to implement more from our plan.” Víctor nodded and both continued to eat.

The aide and Juanito arrived to the restaurant, a couple of minutes before 11:00 p.m. they had finished their food already and were ready to go to the apartment that Marta had in Sopocachi as she rejected the presidential residence to live there. She left and then her mind in a sleepy state, falling fast in the couch and prompting a dream to come all of a sudden…

She was in a profound state of sleepiness, then she dreamt about a parliamentary debate where she was proposing a bill to abolish the Huayramarcan Army and diverge the founds towards the Ministry of Education and Ministry of Health, she found there some significant opposition in the form of William Mamani-Hastings, a prominent MP of the Conservative Party for the Riding of Nauta-Sacachispas, he told her that her proposal was “an idiocy, something that would expose Huayramarca to angry foreign forces” Marta tried to repeal the point by signaling that education and health needed urgent measures to support them, but he continued to oppose for it.

Marta was exasperated by Mamani-Hasting’s arguments, she meditated for a while as some MPs from Ñucanchi Ñan continued to support Marta’s proposal until she stood up, asked to talk and said “Your destiny has come to an end, you fool!” Marta’s eyes turned red, flaming red, and then shoot a laser straight against Mamani’s-Hastings head and killing him in the act. The parliament, shocked and terrorised, decided to run away for their lives without even knowing what had happened, Marta also realised that he had consumed so much special Cocoa-bo drinks that she fainted, she was having an epiphany, a savage one what caused the MPs to ask the Special Forces to close the premises and investigate what on Earth happened.

[Turori]

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Today's Cutoff is brought to you by: the Cocoabo Preservation Society

:: Cocoabo Preservation Society ::

The Cocoabo Preservation Society is a not-for-profit organization dedicated to spreading awareness about Turori's native and endangered Cocoabo species, as well as collecting donations and raising funds to help protect, care for and breed Turorian Cocoabo. The Cocoabo Preservation Society has long been a major player in many aspects of the Turorian way of life. From being the 'go-to' place for high society to mingle and philantropicly dump finances in return for generous tax write-offs, to being an organization that prides itself in bringing educational programs to the children of the Island Emirate, the Cocoabo Preservation Society was a microcosm of an embodiment of everything that it means to be Turorian. However, the Cocoabo Preservation Society had always been an entity. An organizing body responsible for overseeing, for logistically ensuring existing commitments continued and the best interest of the Cocoabo was always at the forefront. A reactionary entity, and an entity charged with maintaining the status quo.

Under the guidance of former Turori National Team player Noa-Isinao Wioauoi, a transformation of the Cocoabo Preservation Society took place. To Wioauoi, there was more to the Cocoabo Preservation Society than counting heads in the flock, hosting benefit events and visiting elementary schools. Wioauoi had a vision of greater things for his beloved Cocoabo, and that Vision would be as grand as they would come. Wioauoi sought the assistance of the regions largest quasi-governmental super corporation, Tropicorp, who had the capital, infrastructure and sheer manpower to implement the new vision for how the Cocoabo Preservation Society could achieve its primary mission. As a result of Wioauoi's vision, The Cocoabo Preservation Society has partnered with Tropicorp to develop to Cocoabo Forest just north of Turori.

The Cocoabo Preservation Society does not pay to associate itself with major sporting events or venues such as the Cocoabo Preservation 300K, however commercial relationships sometimes arise through market sharing arrangements or donations. Examples include donations directly to the Cocoabo Preservation Society but earmarked as only to be used for marketing purposes as there are certain selections a donor can choose; a Donor who may directly donate to an entity and ask to remain anonymous, but instead request that the CPS logo be displayed; Proceeds sharing arrangements where the CPS logo is used on merchandise with a portion of the proceeds going to the CPS and the remaining portion used to cover the costs associated with the Marketing or Sponsorship. The most prominent example has existed with Vilita & Turori Motorsports who have in the past displayed the CPS logo on the vehicles to increase awareness for the Cocoabo Preservation Society but also sells special CPS merchandise with a portion of the proceeds going towards Cocoabo Conservation. The CPS typically are open to all donor or market sharing relationships so long as the --- official Cocoabo Preservation Society Neutral Color Logo Template --- is used to ensure a consistent image. The Cocoabo Preservation Society has a close relationship with the Kionao Locals of the Vilitan League including primary kit sponsorship where a portion of all Kit Sales go back into the preservation efforts. The CPS also offers special donation packages including exclusive corporate tours of Cocoabo Park and the Preservation Society headquarters for selected donors.

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Cocoabo Park is a joint venture between the Cocoabo Preservation Society, Tropicorp and the Island Emirate of Turori to Preserve, Study, Highlight and in some cases improve the existence and appreciation of Turori's Native Cocoabo. At Cocoabo Park visitors from around the multiverse are treated to intimate tours, close encounters and educational experiences all with the Cocoabo at the center. With limited on site lodging and a fully equipped village at the entrance area to the Park, visitors could spend days at Cocoabo Park without even venturing on one of the Park's tours into its different Cocoabo training enclosures or even further into the Cocoabo Forest.

In addition to the commercially driven aspect of the Park, and as a critical part of the relationship with the Cocoabo Preservation Society, the Park also serves as a hub for the team of Scientists and Researchers from both the Cocoabo Preservation Society and Tropicorp many of whom reside full time at the park. While the Cocoabo Preservation Society led efforts are more focused on passive studying and preservation, the Tropicorp team lead the CEEP - the Cocoabo Enrichment & Enhancement Project out of the Park. Beyond just researching and understanding the Cocoabo Genome, the CEEP team are tasked with focused training and enrichment activities to hyper-focus Cocoabo to hone their talents and skills and bring them to the forefront. One of the most popular enclosures on a tour of Cocoabo Park is the CEEP's sporting enclosure where Cocoabo can be found participating in activities such as Footsport and even on a lucky day, Motorsport.

[Commonwealth of Baker Park]

© Sporting Times Daily 2022
Bees second longest match streak a sign?
by Fiona Develin, National Soccer Writer

Lost a bit in the start of the World Cup Qualifying was the conclusion of the Eagle's Cup in Turori, which saw a determined Tumbra outlast Baker Park 3-2 after 120 minutes at Eelandii Park. The Bees and Black Eagles played a match worthy of a World Cup Final for the opportunity to join the illustrious Eagle's Club membership, although no matter which side won, they both took home silverware earned on their own merits--the Cup of Champions for BP and the Cocoa-bo Challenge Trophy for the eventual overall winner.

The loss ended an 18 match unbeaten streak in matches decided before penalty shootouts, dating back to prior to the World Cup Finals, the second longest in National Team history behind the 23 match streak in WCQ 85 in Ichi Tuzzio's first term as BPNT boss, which became a 34 of 35 match run prior to the group stage in Mriin.

The loss to Jeruselem on MD 3 will have to be judged in context at the conclusion of the cycle, the way that lone defeat to The Macabees in WCQ85 looks like a bad day at the office rather than as a sign of something more concerning. The Princesses will make a return visit on matchday 13 at the BBP National Stadium--also the venue for the upcoming fixture against 3rd seeds Trolleborg--and if the Bees continue a march towards a twelfth consecutive qualification, the result then could be the decisive moment.

[Wreckeria]

From: “The Tales of a Dead Country – The Story of Wreckeria’s World Cup 91 Campaign” by Gord Radcliff

6: Easier said than done

“No matter what, Starblaydia is still Starblaydia”

The day after the Starblaydia match, I went back to Marvin Byrnes’ ratty-ass office in that bad part of Halsted, and the mood was markedly different from where it was before. I recalled Marvin speaking with such optimism about how the team had a real chance of beating Starblaydia for their first of two matches for the qualifying campaign. He had spoken with such optimism about how the Starbladyi team was a team that could be beat and how Wreckeria was riding such a wave of momentum. On this day, however, Marvin’s tone was different.

“Yeah, they whooped our asses alright,” Marvin says, with a tone of resignation present in his voice. “It’s funny. You can say you’re going to take on a team like Starblaydia, or the Holy Empire, or Vilita, or Audioslavia or whoever, and you can say you can beat them. Doing it is another thing. No matter what, Starblaydia is still Starblaydia. They’re still a dominant force that’s just had an unfortunate time, and we saw it first-hand.”

Once again, it wasn’t a matter of anything stupid or anything dirty going on in the match – Starblaydia just plain outplayed the Wreckerians. It was clear, even from the press box, even from the seats at Unification Stadium – that Starblaydia was the better team on the day.

“It’s a god damn fluke that they didn’t make the World Cup last year,” Marvin said. “They’ll be back, if not this year, they’ll be back next year. I think you can take one look at how that match went last night and see that that is still a World Cup-capable side.”

But, as Marvin looked around in the office, he thought of ways the team could turn a negative into a positive – like any good coach would do.

“The good thing about bad days is that they end,” Marvin said. “I shouldn’t have to tell you this, because you know this already, and the Wreckerian people know this already, but this team is not the last team that got beat by a Starblaydi side. That team was broken. The Wreckerian people were broken. This Wreckeria is rebuilding. This team is leading the charge. We’ll be back, and when we go up against Starblaydia the next time, we’ll take those lessons we learned and apply them.”

Marvin opened up a window in his office, partially to get rid of the weird smell and partially to look out to the area around him. The area was not a pleasant area to view, but it was slowly getting better, and slowly improving by the day.

“See that right across the street?” Marvin said, pointing to an apartment building that sat across the street from the little office building that the Independent Wreckerian Athletes were housed. “That place just got bought by a developer, and they’re going to turn that around into a mixed-use district that’s going to look better for this area than what’s there now. This building? It probably won’t be around much longer in its existing form, and we’re looking for a new place to do work at. I figure if we keep doing well, we’ll have to expand anyway.

“Halsted is rebuilding, Gord,” Marvin said. “The war is over and we’re a part of Hapilopper now. We’re picking up on some of that Hapiloppian magic and it’s only going to help us. Imagine where we’ll be a year from now. This town is going to be popping. We’re going to be popping. We’re here to represent a people that want to be proud of something, and you know what? We’re going to give them something to be proud of.”

Marvin looked around at his office and shook his head.

“This office? There’s nothing to be proud of here. This television here doesn’t work. There’s mold on the ceiling. There may be a dead body in the ceiling. The wiring is all fucked. That coffee pot will start a fire one day. There’s food in the breakroom fridge that’s been there since the 80s.”

“World Cup 80s?” I ask.

“No,” Marvin says with a smart-ass tone of voice. “The 1980s. About 40 plus years ago. I’m afraid to open the fridge because it might kill me. They’re going to need a damn hazmat team to tear this place down because there’s probably sentient beings grown out of the salad dressing in the fridge. I might see if someone from Sylestone wants to come over and try the salad dressing out for their national team. Or maybe our refrigerator.”

I chuckle, but Marvin is only half-joking.

“You think I’m kidding?” Marvin says. “Sometimes after I’ve had a few to drink in here, I swear I can hear a disembodied voice in the breakroom offering tactics for me to use. I swear. Next time it tells me to use Gord Sheppard as a false nine, I’m going to take an axe to it.”

“Sig’s Stars”

When I wake up the next morning around 10:30, I check my phone, and to my surprise I find a text message from Gordon Sheppard. He tells me he has an interesting idea to build the team around the concept of family, and he wants to show it to me, so let’s meet for lunch.

I go to his house and find him on the grill in his back yard, his kids playing in the wading pool and his wife catching some rays while listening to a popular hit tune from the 1970s. Gordon has a smile on his face as he grills some steaks.

“I haven’t run this idea past Marvin yet, but I thought about the idea of rewarding players for great individual plays or great matches,” Gordon said. “I think it could motivate the team to do some great work, especially in the second half of the campaign, and maybe even to the World Cup or the Cup of Harmony.”

He explained about a baseball team that, decades ago, offered stars for their players to put on their hats to reward great plays.

“I don’t know what you’d call it – Sheppard’s Stars, or hell, we could do something different from that,” Gordon explained. “Hell, I could give Sig Justice the credit. He is the team captain, after all. He’s coming over in a bit, too, and I want to run this idea by him. After we got beat by Starblaydia, Marvin told us all to come up with things that we can rally around to better ourselves, rather than allow ourselves to stay beat. He said the mark of a good football team is how we bounce back from setbacks, and I think this could help us.”

To me, I thought it was a great idea. I could picture great ballplayers with stars all over their kits, to mark just how good they had been doing on the pitch, as Wreckeria climbed back up the standings.

“You see, Hapilopper has Nathan Ellis whipping his kids into shape. Everyone talks about ‘Nathan’s Kids,’ right? The so-called ‘Team of the 90s,’ someone said. Well, how about ‘Sig’s Stars’? We do this right and players will bend over backwards to get those stars on their kits. Hell, we can give them out to the community as they rebuild Wreckeria. I’m convinced it’ll work. We need to be a force for good for this community and we need to show them that we’re here for them in more than just playing a game.”

When Sig comes over, you could tell. Sigmund Justice was the definition of modern-day Wreckerian football. Sig is a giant of a man that you could spot a mile away – from his blonde mullet hairstyle to his large (six foot seven) features, he carried himself as the captain on and off the pitch, and he was always welcoming to those welcoming to Wreckerian football.

Admittedly, I was a little intimidated by his presence at first. He looked almost at home in a professional wrestling ring powerbombing people right and left, but I realized that he was nowhere near that intimidating of a presence once you got to talk to him.

“Stars?” Sig asks. “I think that’s a great idea. We can put them all over our uniforms. We can give them to different nonprofits and different companies that rebuild Wreckeria. I can see this becoming a huge deal, and it can help us out too. I think sometimes we can be accused of being a little too into ourselves, but we need to remember that we’re here to help rebuild a community that got tore down over the years.”

Sig and Gordon talked it over for a while, planning just how this star program would be conducted – how the stars would be handed out, how often they would be handed out, what they would be called, and who would be responsible for handing them out, as well as how they would be handed out to members of the community. It was there that the basis for the “Sig’s Stars” program began, and before long, sure enough, numerous players on the Wreckerian team carried different numbers of stars on their jerseys to indicate those great plays that helped propel Wreckeria past their opponents.

The next day, as I was having lunch with Marvin Byrnes, Sig and Gordon presented it together, calling it a way to bring the team together, and in good time, too. There were some huge matches ahead of them, most notably the matches with Turori and Flavovespia.

[Delte]

---

Sarzonia 4-1 Delte
Player-Reporter Kim Samrodd in Woodstock, Sarzonia for Stoic Magazine

---

It was a long way to go for a football match, and I have to say we were quite distracted by surely the best kits in the whole group - if the league table reflected sartorial elegance then congratulations would have to be due to The Stars who would already have booked passage to all the various finals host nations by now. As it is, this is about skills with the ball not with the wardrobe, and Sarzonia are only a meagre joint-second with a game in hand. So still quite good then, as they showed us in no uncertain terms. We all gasped when Irki Mynster's ridiculous overhead looping chip straight off our keeper's first clearance of the match eluded everyone and went in. It was so shocking even Irki missed it - he was aiming for row Z in accordance with our plan to time-waste from the first minute. Never has a plan gone so shockingly awry so quickly, with 47 seconds on the clock. For another minute or so we looked like world beaters, until Sarzonia kicked off for a second time in three minutes and proceeded to pound us for the remaining eighty-seven plus stoppage.

---

Delte 6-2 Serdtgyu
Sports Correspondent Polka Lunn in Oswark for the Ughmirren Broadsheets

---

I won't dwell overly long on the finer details of this match, but certainly mention should be made of The Representatives' elegant wide play, finally up against someone even worse than them and able therefore to express themselves more with expansive play and tiki-toko (I believe that is the term) rather than with hoof and hope. On the left, Ardrake Steng was all fluid motion and lightning sprints, while on the right the more ponderous and thoughtful Dr. Orem Ustingham had time and space to show his game awareness with some nicely crafted needle passes to the forwards, who enjoyed themselves in front of goal. Everyone enjoyed themselves - in his post match interview, the good doctor for example was thrilled to announce he'd had his first touches in four games after more or less being a mobile spectator against the group's top three teams in the previous matches. A cry of 'can we play you every week?' went up from the 835 home supporters when 'The Reps' took a 5-0 lead. To which came no reply - the Serd's backing as absent as their teams' roster.

---

Ready Player 3: Dr. Orem Ustingham
Vignettes of The Representatives

---

Right-sided midfielder, age 38, for Ughmirren FC; physician - Doctor Ustingham studied medicine in Wilkshire, the nearest country to the valley with a proper system of education beyond secondary school and sixth form. He was the head boy at Oswark Grammar School - of course - and when at medical school he developed a healthy addiction to opiates - of course. I say healthy because - of course - all med students get addicted to the Orange Line and, being med students, are very well versed in functional addiction management. (Those less capable tend to drop out early to become dentists). After seven years of medical school and opiate addiction, and three years of locum work in his adopted country, Doctor Ustingham returned home to join the Delte Valley clinic in Oswark, the hub of the 20-or-so General Practitioners in the valley, where he was supported in establishing his own practice right at home in the parish town of Ughmirren. Aside from doctoring the sick and playing football for both his local town club Ughmirren FC and the valley Representatives, the good doctor still enjoys the occasional dabble in opiate misuse, though at 38 doesn’t have the constitution for sustained drug abuse and in particular for the extended recovery time required now that he is getting on a bit; so his other main interest, developed whilst domiciled in Wilkshire, is the Wild West fiction genre, be that film, television or literature - and even a few comic books. Nothing inspires him more than the history of Wilkshire’s wild frontier - whether true or not - and the exploits of cowboys, injuns, tequileros and liberated Zenegalese slaves running amok in dusty landscapes with horses, mules, steers, buffalo, wolves, snakes, beavers, coyotes and turkey buzzards. On saucy cosplay nights he goes by the moniker Doc Orem and carries a pretty shiny six-shooter in his holster. He’s quick to reassure his playmates that he is only firing blanks.

[Baggieland]

[Gnejs]

Part 3: Moving up north

He had very much been Birka bound his entire life, apart from vacation trips down south to visit family and the odd school excursion into the edge of the Interior. He had a somewhat romanticized picture of his new home, and the old town and the picturesque quarters by the water did go a long way of living up to the hype. His student housing on the eastern bank was perhaps less pretty, but you didn’t have to walk far to reach the sea and some great outdoor spots. He arrived two weeks before classes began and spent that time getting aquatinted with the city and surrounding areas on the north coast of Berg.

The people seemed decent enough, even though they were even more frugal with their words than he was used to, and people were pretty reserved back home. At times he could go an entire day without speaking to or even greeting anyone, even though he was in situations were you’d expect some causal exchange. Like in the shops. He was used to the cashier greeting you verbally and telling you the total amount owed. Here, the cashier rather gave you a nod of recognition, and then a nod towards the till. Back in Port Kejm it was customary to shout ‘thank you’ to the bus- or tram driver when you got off - not doing so was considered extremely impolite - but up north that just resulted in him getting funny looks from his fellow passengers. All of this was weird at first, but he quickly got used to the more non-verbal way of communicating. It wasn’t that people were less kind or caring, it was just their way when interacting with people they weren’t personally aquatinted with. In time he embraced it completely. Apart from when disembarking public transport; it just felt wrong not to say ‘thank you’.

He had picked the University of Ecpatia because they were the only ones who offered a degree in Psychology with a specialization in politics. He had never been very interested in politics growing up, but his time with Ellinor had changed that. The classes were engaging and he quickly became a devoted student. He didn’t know anyone in the north, and he quickly went back to his old reclusive ways, going on long walks and reading by himself in his apartment when he didn’t have classes to attend. He enjoyed being close to the sea and especially during night, when the midnight sun hung low over the horizon and produced a very special kind of light.

It was the first time he’d lived alone. The transition went alright, but not without hiccups. He suddenly realized that he had never washed his own clothes before, and that he had no idea how a washing machine worked. He knew there were machines in the basement that he and his fellow student tenants could use, but he didn’t want to go down there to study them for fear of meeting someone and getting caught as that guy who doesn’t know how to do laundry. He contemplated calling his parents, but felt too embarrassed about that as well. They hadn’t been very happy about him moving up north, and he had a feeling they would use it against him. Obviously they were aware he had never done laundry himself, and he suspected that maybe they were actually hoping that this would act as a sort of revelation for their son, making him see that he wasn’t ready. It made him irritated, even though it was all just in his head.

In the end he solved his problem by not washing his clothes. It was arguably a strange solution, because one might think that being known as the guy who can’t do laundry would be less embarrassing than being known as the guy who smells. But it wasn’t a problem to begin with, because he was a pretty neat guy and his clothes remained fairly unsoiled - nothing a good airing couldn’t handle - and his personal hygiene was ok. All good things come to an end though, and after the first six months or so he was starting to have this whiff of cheese about him. Not old or putrid cheese, just plain cheese. It wasn’t overwhelming, but you noticed it. On one of his walks he found a laundromat where you could hand in your clothes to be washed downtown, and cursed himself for not thinking of that sooner. He was often like that, maybe a bit too set in his own ways and blind for alternatives. He never missed a good window of opportunity when they became apparent though, and he started going there about once a month. It didn’t take him long to upscale his visits, mainly out of a fear for that cheesiness lingering. It was expensive, but he cut down on other expenses to make it work.

He went well over a year without making any new friends or engaging much with anyone outside of a few of the people in the seminars he was doing. He had gotten a reputation as an eccentric, largely due to his hermitic tendencies and preoccupation with theories of the unconscious. He lied to his parents when they called to check up on him, knowing they feared his move up north would make him retreat into isolation once again. He told them that he was doing fine, had lots of friends and played tennis regularly. He didn’t play tennis at all, even though he had thought about it, as the student sports association had a setup for it. He went to a small tournament once, but all it did was make him sure that he was done with tennis.

None of this bothered him much, and all in all he was fairly content with life. He had grown very fond of the north. The land, the sea, the city and the people. This fondness grew even stronger whenever he went back to Port Kejm to visit his parents. Because whenever he did that, he also caught up with old friends. There was something about the youngish people of the city that he’d never noticed before, but that was very apparent when you observed it coming from the outside. It was something about everybody working so very hard trying to be in tune with whatever was in vogue, while pretending they didn’t care at all and being terrified that other people would find out that you either weren’t, or that you actually did. It all made for a very strained atmosphere. He summarized his take on Port Kejm to Tommy on one of his visits with the parable that living there was like walking around with shit in your pants and being scared of everyone finding out, but everyone else have also shat themselves and are equally scared of you finding out. Which perhaps wasn’t the best allegory, but it still did a pretty good job catching the spirit of Port Kejm in the mid 70’s. It seemed like an exhausting way to life your life. Tommy laughed about it, but squirmed uncomfortably and they ended the evening not long after that, finishing their last pint in silence. They agreed to see each other the next time he was in town, but he suspected they wouldn’t.

The spring of ‘75 became a big turning point in his life. He attended a course on Psychoanalysis and Capitalism and was partnered with another student named Harald. He was a strange fellow who knitted most of his own clothes, wore half moon spectacles and had a stringy goatee. Harald was obsessed with the inner workings of the Unionist Party and had vast knowledge of different fringe psychology theories, but despite his various eccentricities was a sociable person and quickly made it his mission to cultivate friendship. It was Harald who taught him how to use a washing machine, and he introduced him to a wider circle of acquaintances. Every Tuesday night for the next two years he went along to a small club on the outskirts of the southside and watched Harald play bass in an industrial punk band called Fecal Fracas, who played a very niche type of noise music accompanied by lyrics revolving around revolution and schizophrenia. The band spilt up after those two years due to creative differences, but both he and Harald remained on friendly terms with all of them, and he even briefly dated the singer Klara for a few months.

A few of the band members were also Harald’s work- and football mates, leading in to the more important fact that every Saturday morning he tagged along to watch Harald play corporate football with the team organized within the firm where he worked extra. They were called The Ravens, which in Gnejsiska would be Korparna, a wordplay originating from korporationsfotboll (’corporate football’) being nicknamed ‘Korpen’. Unsurprisingly, there were numerous corporate football teams across the Union called ‘The Ravens’. He was of course invited to join the game, but he always declined, preferring to study from the sidelines. He hadn’t watched football being played in years, but as opposed to his reaction to coming back to tennis, this time he realized he had missed it.

After hanging around the team for about six months, watching them both train and play games in the Finntorp Corporate Football League (Finntorps Korpfotbollsliga, FKFL) he started getting more engaged. He presented their playing coach - a big welder named Jonas - with his take on the team’s structure, style and strategic ambitions. They were all lacking, in his opinion, and he laid out his idea of an extremely defensive lineup: a layered «Wall» of impenetrable strength. Because, as he explained to Jonas and the team, they spent all their time running around like mad chickens trying to score goals and win, whereas their real focus should be on not conceding any goals and not losing. The team discussed it amongst themselves and quickly agreed that he should be their new coach. He didn’t immediately accept the offer, but it didn’t take much convincing either. Something inside him had shifted, and his interest for the game overtook his distrust of everything surrounding the game. It probably helped that nobody ever came to watch The Ravens play. So he took the helm and Jonas stepped down to become the centerpiece in a new five man defensive line

It took a while before it all settled, but when it did, they triumphed. The Ravens came out on top of the FKFL in the ’76 season, only conceding four goals in total.

[Jeruselem]

Aaliyah Lust for Naked News Jeruselem at Dazza Dallas Stadium standing around naked with former Naked News anchor Aidra Nene who's also naked.

Aaliyah:
Hey everyone, this is Aaliyah Lust for Naked News Jeruselem covering the World Cup 91. As you can see we're back home at Dazza Dallas Stadium. Well, the clue is we're not dressed at all . I'm with my precessor Aidra Nene who covered the World Cup 89 and 90, I guess she can't keep away from this place. Now, it's qualification match day number 10! No not number 9 because ... well you'll find out later, but most people know why.

Aidra: Hey, doing a great job there Aly.
Aaliyah: We worked in the same adult movie industry before so we know each other. And yes, there's movies out there with both of us in it. Of course, we're on family friendly sorta channel so I can't mention what we did.
Aidra: She really gets into her work, literally. Sometimes she overdoes things ...
Aaliyah: Now, I said match day 10 not 9! Because on match day 9, we had the bye and we all stayed at home and had to watch our opponents. Most football watchers would have known that, unless you're the pervs who only turn up when we're around.
Aidra: I didn't get any byes during World Cup 89 and 90, lucky for my fans.
Aaliyah: But what happened last round still mattered to us, because that's the nature of byes ...

Aidra: Well, I think it's nice to have a rest anyway.
Aaliyah: Match day 9 with Jeruselem bye, TotoMishin smashed the pointless Potenzia 4-2. Ranoria was held to 1-1 draw with visiting Britonisea. Tekatus lost their home game to Gortolekua 2-0. Pyazhnaya went down to visiting Acastanha 4-3. And the big game! It was Commonwealth of Baker Park at home vs Trolleborg.
Aidra: Kinda funny this game was on the round we had the bye.
Aaliyah: Commonwealth of Baker Park proved they were still the best, besting Trolleborg 1-0. Pretty interesting game but the result wasn't unexpected either.
Aidra: Well, it just means Baker Park are still the best as far as we think they are.
Aaliyah: They were in our group in World Cup 89, they can't avoid us it seems.

Aidra: We must really annoy them, we do annoy some other teams.
Aaliyah: Now, to today where match day 10 meant Trolleborg had the bye. Just means they had to watch Jeruselem and Baker Park get points.
Aidra: Must kinda suck watching your rivals doing that.
Aaliyah: With having the bye, Acastanha hosted top team Commonwealth of Baker Park. But WOAH, Acastanha held visiting Baker Park to a draw 1-1. Which is good news for other teams
Aidra: That was a surprise draw, but anything can happen in football if the team has an off day.
Aaliyah: Gortolekua hosted an interesting game with visitors Pyazhnaya and came off 2nd best losing 5-3.

Aidra: Wow, 8 goal game. I guess they couldn't complain about value for money on the day.
Aaliyah: Yeah like our 4-3 loss on match day 2.
Aidra: Maybe that game was actually, well GOOD for us.
Aaliyah: Britonisea crashed to 2-0 loss at home to Tekatus who finally got their first win. Tekatus got their first win, it's better than none.
Aidra: Saying thay, Britonisea don't have the best defense in Group 4.
Aaliyah: Potenzia still has to wait for points, they lost 1-0 to visiting Ranoria at home.

Aidra: They might have an small issue qualifying ...
Aaliyah: Yes, that just leaves TotoMishin visiting here at Dazza Dallas Stadium.
Aidra: Home games are most scary than away ones for some reason.
Aaliyah: Not our best effort today, maybe because of the bye but we did win 3-2.
Aidra: It's 3 points, that's all that matters. Goal difference is secondary.

Aaliyah:
With 11 teams in each group, teams have to play 10 games. TotoMishin have the bye in the last day, so they won't getting any points next round.
Group 4 is dominated by Jeruselem leading Commonwealth of Baker Park, 24 vs 22 points. If Baker Park had won today, both teams would be in 24 points. Gortolekua 3rd with 17 points and Trolleborg really need get going being 4th on 16th points. Acastanha doing well in 5th on 15 points. Pyazhnaya and Ranoria sit back in 6th and 7th in 13 points. Britonisea are 8th with 10 points, way ahead of Tekatus on 4 points and Potenzia on zero.

Aidra: I guess we can't complain how things are going
Aaliyah: Not perfect but hey, we'll take it.
Aidra: Well, since there's not much to really study. We can look at some of friends!
Aaliyah: The Independent Athletes from Quebec in Group 6 - they are leading the table on 23 points and undefeated with 7 wins and 2 daws. I'd say that's pretty damn good.
Aidra: Still they got Vdara right behind them, no room to slack.
Aaliyah: In Group 5, Cassadaigua are in battle with Electrum leading on 24 points. Cassadaigua and Sarzonia both on 22 points. Huayramarca lurk on 19 points. That's tough group!

Aidra: Yeah, good luck girls.
Aaliyah: We're going to Ranoria for the last round of this 1st half, so I'll see you there.
Aidra: And me? I'll be around here somewhere!
Aaliyah: See you all later for the completion of the 1st half of World Cup 91 qualification.
Aidra: Keep up the support of the team, it's working folks
Aaliyah: Even if people watch us because they are perverts.

[Southwest Eastnorth]

Chris Houton was slumped over the bench with his head in his hands. His team had just lost 1-0 to Poafmersia. A hard fought defensive battle ensued from the start as both teams played a successfull physical style. The Pioneers had already drew Ko-oren so they got to keep the giant killing reputation they had gotten over the years. But alas in extra time a scorcher of a shot got by talented keeper Jessica LaRioux, a shot so violent and high speed that not event he most efficient Galacticos keeper could save it.

Houton was dissapointed for sure. the team had a rough outing versus Xanneria, a friendly rival who they wanted very well to show up on the international stage. It turned into a farce in which they were the punchline. Xanneria even with held Justin Ingram knowing full well that the SWEN plan would likely include starting his rival Austin Navarro just as a bait for red cards.

The game prior was also a slug fest, but of a different kind. The Pioneers were looking at a 0-0 draw 75 minutes into a 90 minute game. But that all changed when Houton, who had subbed himself on over Ulysess Barnett III came in. Houton scored a goal to put the team up 2-1, then just a couple minutes later Emilie Labelle had proven their worth by tying up the game, But old man Houton wasn't done, a slapshot of a goal showed the 42 year old striker/coach had it, he got an absolute pissmissle by poor poor Peter Grant who could only flop at the ball. Overall this game was a great set up for disappointment that would happen in the next qualifier, but it was also one of the most fun games the Pioneers have had all qualifiers.

---

(Houton 80' 87') Southwest Eastnorth 2–1 Sudilia (Labelle 82')

(Huerta 90+3)Poafmersia 1–0 Southwest Eastnorth (NONE)

[Valentine Z]

Part 4 – Consistency.

The Valentians have more than proven to themselves – at least for these 8 matchdays, that they could handle the teams that they have been pitted against. At first, they have the teams from Mercedini and Nephara, and for the next two days, they handled against The Gothanita Isles (nicknamed Yellow Lions) and Oberour Ar Moro (nicknamed Dragoons). A consistent for both the home and away match, while each of the opponents have managed to get their own goals during the game, it would be the Valentians, and once again the likes of people like Holly Annemiek Gerrieke Van De Hoogte who got the scoring going on. For the first match – Valentine Z against The Gothanita Isles, it would be Holly Annemiek Gerrieke Van De Hoogte who scored both goals (21’ and 68’), while The Gothanita Isles managed a goal at the end from one #4 Remus McQueen at the 81’ mark when the Valentians were running on fumes and wanted to get the match over and done with. The next day, the Kittens went against the Dragoons, getting the same score, but at a different order – it would be the Dragoons who scored first this time, from one #8 Renald Gayrard. Of course, the Valentian Kittens came back with a strong 2-goal – one before the half-time, and one after. It would, however, would not be from Holly, and instead from Vanuza Poliane Elaine Castro dos Reis and Emerson Jamie Taylor Erin Scott Maddox respectively. All in all, the game ended with the Valentians not sustaining any injuries throughout both matches, especially the goalkeepers. Markus took a note of that, sending a text message to Clarissa in the meantime, “I think I found a couple of goalkeepers that we can bring into the mix. They should all be good in both the performance and teamwork with each other.” Clarissa replied with a confirmation in the meantime, effectively giving Markus a green light to hire the players that he sees fit for the club. As she finishes her response, someone asked her if it was about football, to which Clarissa answered. “Yup, about the Kittens!”

“Ahh, right, right.. I also see that they have been doing pretty well lately! Like, wow, those scores are pretty good head starts. I do hope they will be able to continue this streak, you know?” to which Clarissa nodded. The woman talking to her stood up, adjusting her own football jersey. Her name – just like with the rest of the Valentians – would be a little too long for the shirt, but she was able to narrow down the name. #31 – Gwen T. Allison. As she finished preparing, she then turned back towards Clarissa, detailing and talking about this one particular football match that she signed up for. “Thankfully, it didn’t conflict with our NSSCRA schedule. It was a while back, but the invitations were open from this nation by the name of Starblaydia. I’m sure you have heard of them, the Valentian Kittens played against them for the third-place games in Cup of Harmony 82. Anyway, I signed up for it, haha!” The gears (or rather, the artificial neurons) inside Clarissa’s mind turned slowly, to which she then suddenly shouted out with excitement, “Oooh, Starblaydia 2000 Charity Match! To commemorate their 2000th match, right? Sorry, I have been a bit occupied with the NSSCRA stuff and I think I need to extract that from my storage!” Gwen nodded back, “More or less, yeah! I think you guys politely turned it down and so I thought hey, maybe I can give it a try! Plus we were told the places were limited, like nearly one player per nation. So I’m playing Forwards for this multiversal team. I will definitely take pictures too, of course!” With the last of her belongings packed neatly into her carry-on, Gwen gave a hug to Clarissa with a remark: “Catch me soon at the international (interdimensional) sports channel, yeah? Would be a lot of fun, that’s for sure!” The outcome, of course, is to be an unexpected surprise, seeing how Gwen have not touched football in the longest of time. After all, she usually confides in the comfort of NSSCRA, even if the last season ended with her losing her championship opportunity by a very small margin.