World Cup 98 | RP thread

[Tanirinthia]

---

OF FATES AND FORTUNES
Chapter Twenty Eight - Closing the Deal

---

After sitting around for what felt like a small eternity, not saying much for fear of being listened to, but holding their hands tightly, wishing they were anywhere else and able to make up for lost time.

They both jumped when the door slammed open as Mr Cross finally returned

Well I've made the calls that would need to be made, I'm sure you understand Mr Poole there is not a lever that we pull, the release of this information must be carefully managed, committees setup to handle to ongoing logistics with the public's knowledge, and everything that will come with that. However I am assuming you realised this would be the case, and am hoping therefore you are willing to accept my word that the wheels for what you have asked for are being put in motion.

Of course Mr Cross, what on Tanirinth would lead us to find your word not worthy of trust?

Replied Clara, her voice dripping with false sincerity.

Well then Mr Poole and Ms Bonner, it seems we have an agreement. We'll get you on the first transport out to Tikariot, I'm afraid you won't have much chance to settle in as the Oaks have there first match this evening against Hapilopper, who's overseas territories we were unable to overcome during our qualifying run. This and all relevant materials will be waiting for you on site, we have carried on your archiving of the team in your enforced absence.

---

Arriving in Tikariot, Clara and Jasper were guiding to their accommodation, quickly got rid of their escort who had seemed intent of chatting with them, and began making up for the lost time, and they didn't care tuppence who may be listening.

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen | Chapter Sixteen | Chapter Seventeen | Chapter Eighteen | Chapter Nineteen | Chapter Twenty | Chapter Twenty-One | Chapter Twenty-Two | Chapter Twenty-Three | Chapter Twenty-Four | Chapter Twenty-Five | Chapter Twenty-Six | Chapter Twenty-Seven

[Tikariot]

Tikariot 98: A Documentary - Episode 1

Match 1: Tikariot vs. StrayaRoos – A Rain-Soaked Spectacle
Dragonscrest Stadium was the expected cauldron as the Snowy Owls took to the pitch for their World Cup opener against StrayaRoos. The weather was perfect at kickoff: the golden rays of the sun putting the green turf into the best of light, flags of black, burgundy and white fluttering in the sea breeze.

StrayaRoos' Juven coach Calixto Conti chose to match the Snowy Owls' offensive setup, opting for a balanced 4-3-3 formation:
Goalkeeper: Amina Şeyma
Defenders: Kai Kuyta, Gavin Majla, Urszula Chinwe, Tabitha Puaia
Midfielders: Renee Beralt, Yasmeen Karmea, Lucas Pewo
Forwards: Cruz Kaiplo (co-captain), Alana Kerr (co-captain), Ali Are

Tikariot’s starting eleven brought their characteristic dynamism. Within minutes, the tone was set. Mathias Vercauteren was buzzing with energy, pressing high and testing Şeyma early with a low, fizzing drive. But it was the Socceroos who struck first.

In the 14th minute, Renee Beralt intercepted a misplaced pass from Connlaodh MacGofraidh, threading a sublime through ball to Ali Are. Are’s first touch took him past Vincent Litman, and he slotted it home with frightening ease. The stadium fell momentarily silent, save for the raucous cheers from the traveling StrayaRoos supporters.

The Snowy Owls rallied quickly. Markus Sivertstrand controlled a long pass from Tikariot City FC teammate Anders Skogensberg and played it into Adrian Grimaud, who was lurking in the pocket. With a deft turn, Grimaud lofted a perfectly weighted cross that evaded the StrayaRoos’ towering defenders. Vercauteren met it mid-air with a scissor kick that flew past Şeyma to level the game at 1-1, and Dragonscrest Stadium erupted.

The first half unfolded as a tactical chess match. Yasmeen Karmea’s clever distribution kept the StrayaRoos’ attack fluid, while Þorgríma Vigdis Ástþórsdóttir patrolled the midfield with her trademark authority, breaking up counterattacks and orchestrating Tikariot’s forward play.

And then came the storm.

As the teams returned from halftime, the sky darkened ominously, and within minutes, a torrential downpour set in that drenched everything and everybody in the stadium. The rain hammered down with an intensity that turned the pitch into a slick, treacherous surface, where some pundits were wondering when they would bring out the boats. Missteps and misjudgments multiplied. In the 53rd minute, a mistimed clearance by Gavin Majla saw the ball skid unpredictably, gifting Grimaud another opportunity to deliver a cross. Vercauteren, sharp as ever, ghosted between defenders and powered a header into the net. Tikariot led 2-1.

But the Emus were far from done. The rain seemed to ignite their spirit, and in the 65th minute, Cruz Kaiplo, the only StrayaRoos player playing in the Tikariot Premier League, unleashed a thunderous strike from 25 yards out that skimmed off the wet grass and swerved past a diving Litman. 2-2.

Chaos reigned in the final 20 minutes. Players slipped, tackles flew in late, and the ball seemed to have a mind of its own. Grimaud, unfazed by the deluge, once again found Vercauteren in the box with a low cross. Sliding through the puddles, Vercauteren poked it past Şeyma for his hat-trick, fulfilling their press-conference prophecy.

But StrayaRoos clawed their way back one more time. In the 87th minute, Alana Kerr, unmarked at the back post, capitalized on a looping cross from Lucas Pewo to level the score. The rain’s fury peaked as the final whistle blew: a 3-3 thriller that left fans drenched and bereft of the win they had so desperately hoped for.

Post-Match Press Conference: A Deluge of Questions
The press room was abuzz as McAllister, Vercauteren, Grimaud, and Captain Þorgríma took their seats.

Reporter: “Coach McAllister, how would you sum up today’s performance?”
McAllister: “Rollercoaster. I’d like to personally thank whoever controls the weather for spicing things up. But seriously, I’m proud of the team. We showed grit, but there’s room to tighten up defensively.”

Reporter: “Mathias, a hat-trick in the opener. Is this the start of a Golden Boot campaign?”
Vercauteren (laughing): “I’ll settle for helping us win matches. But yeah, I wouldn’t mind a trophy or two by the end of this tournament, but if I had a choice, I'd gladly sacrifice the Golden Boot for the World Cup.”

Reporter: “Adrian, three assists in tough conditions. Thoughts?”
Grimaud: “Honestly, I love playing in the rain, and having been playing here in Port Tacassam for several years now, you kind of get used to how bad it can get. Main thing is to keep the ball off the ground. The unpredictability keeps you sharp. And when you’ve got a finisher like Mathias, it’s just about putting the ball somewhere in there, so he can do the rest.”

Reporter: “Þorgríma, how do you handle a game like that?”
Þorgríma: “Carefully. I still have water in places it has no right to be. In a game like this, everything becomes a gamble, but we got one point out of it. Two less than I would have wanted, but just got to win the next two now.”

Day After: Dry Recovery and Reflection
The day after the match, the Dragonscrest Training Complex was calm but not completley idle. Recovery sessions dominated the morning as the rain-logged second half cost a lot of strength. Players soaked in cryotherapy tubs while the medical staff worked tirelessly to ensure sore muscles were taken care of. Some players, mostly the ladies opted for yoga, where the serene studio overlooking the Gulf of Yavash offered a stark contrast to the previous night’s chaos.

Off the pitch, the team's camaraderie continued to build. Dagenais organized a beach volleyball match, much to the amusement of his teammates. The game saw unlikely alliances—MacGofraidh and Karlsbakk, known for their on-field spats, teamed up and hilariously fumbled their way to victory.

There was also a spark of romance in the air. Rumours swirled around Annika Nurmsalu and Tihon, Chromatika, based left midfielder Tobias Grandelius sharing a quiet coffee by the seaside.

Preview: Next Stop, Gnejs
The Snowy Owls’ focus turned to their next challenge: Gnejs, a team also known for their offensive outlook rather than defensive prowess. Their goalless draw against Eastfield Lodge was a very unusually harmless offering that left much room for improvement.

McAllister addressed the team in the briefing room. “Gnejs won’t give us an inch. We have to be careful with their quick passes, remember, they have a whole bunch of players in the TPL, so they are familiar with most of you. I pray to whoever I have to pray to that this one will stay dry..."

The fans were equally expectant. The Dark Tide is hoping that the opening draw against StrayaRoos is the opening hitch that will set off the chain reaction, starting with a critical win over Gnejs, hoping the Snowy Owls will not be stuck between a rock and a hard place tonight.

[Edsmontik]

streggvalkligges.eds
YOUR Edsmon Sports Hub

---

7/14/2030

---

EVENTS

---

FDVL
FDVL CHAMPION: REICHAN DE-WALVARJ

---

INTERNATIONAL
NSWC98 MD1

Group I

---

Edsmontik 1-1 Flavovespia @ Mount Fortress, Oriannor, Khazagh, Tikariot (54,000)
M. Stuero (68') | C. Shepherd (59')

---

CHANNELS

STARTING STRONG

This was a deadly group.
Each and every team had its strengths, whether it be the experience or sheer power.
And the Edsmons would be facing off against one that had both in great amounts for their first matchday.
Flavovespia finished 2nd in a very dangerous group, just like the Edsmons.
Whether or not the rest of the world cup fell into Edsmon favor all depended on the start.
43rd vs. 9th, who prevails?
Thousands line the stands in Tikariot to find out.
Let's dive into this.

0' Kickoff
Birmingham of Flavovespia started off with the ball, sending it to Johnathan Bagshaw.
Instantly, the Eagles had to face the sheer power of this team.
The Flavovespians instantly fired forward, with quick passes and dribbles far into the Edsmon line.
Already, things didn't look very good.
And only two minutes in, panic arose as Bagshaw got closer and closer.
From that, came Oddevre Zeukalmen with a fierce tackle.

2' Nearly a Problem
You could hear the "Oh man, that hurt" in the crowd as Bagshaw came tumbling down.
The referee walked over, leaving Edsmon fans and Zeukalmen silent and waiting for information.
Luckily for Oddevre, the Flavovespian's foot had actually just slipped on the ball.
Bagshaw also ended up being fine, getting up to join his team.

5' Already Back at It
In less than five minutes, back came the Flavovespians eager for a chance.
Passes flew, dodging Edsmon heads and cleats as the players charged down the field.
The Eagles watched almost hopelessly as their opponents weaved their way past Kizani and dodged Javarqa.
They were like runaway crooks.
Soon enough, it was Bagshaw and the net.
Through the air the ball went, curving, soaring...
into the hands of der-Zyfragken.
Luckily for him, the angle was a pretty hard one to master.
But if Bagshaw was in a better position, things could've been different.
This early into the game, the Flavovespians were pressing hard.
Whatever happened next could clearly define whether the Edsmons had a chance or not.

17' Quick Counter
After the first attack from Flavovespia, the Edsmons would not take any more chances.
The four defenders watched every Flavovespian move and ended up doing pretty well.
Meanwhile, up front, the Eagles had some challenges.
The Flavovespian defense was strong and clearly weren't willing to hand over a free goal.
However, with Stuero's footwork and a long ball from Rehcikt, the Edsmons had their first taste of attack.
The ball fired through the air, going right towards goal, but curved a little too much and found the post.
It was better than nothing though, as the Edsmons were slowly finding their footing in this battle.

25' Stalemate of Chaos
The wild start finally calmed down as the halfway mark for the first half of the game approached.
There were fewer attacks, less chances, and less chaos.
But that was because the ISN commentators "made it boring."
In reality, there were definitely less chances, but it was absolute CHAOS in the center.
The two teams were clashing, with possession changing every few minutes.
Once in a while, one team pushed, but they would be sent tumbling back by the defense.
Fans of both sides went wild, chanting their songs and screaming whenever the best players got the ball.

31' Not Finding Net
Edsmontik had an ample number of chances.
Maartin Stuero and Sravagn Utravak mainly led this push, with multiple shots.
But none of them found the net.
On the other side, the Flavovespians were doing well too, with their own share of chances.
Players like Richard Birmingham and Johnathan Bagshaw were really testing the Edsmon defense.
But the spotlight wasn't really on the attackers, it was for the defense.
Shots were blocked, headers were made, and good clearances as well as passes happened.

45' Halfway
The whistle finally blew to mark the half point of a tough game.
Coaches congratulated their teams, and for the Edsmons, they already felt that they had won despite not having done much.
According to Dav der-Ghavyr by keeping the Flavovespians away, "It was a win for the Eagles so far."
Obviously though, there was a still a lot more to come.
They were still up against one of the best.

59' Chaos Unfolds
Questions arose as fans and players alike wondered the same thing.
"Will this game get intense? Will there be goals? How will it end?"
Move after move, the teams pushed forward, as soon, one question was answered.
This game was definitely getting more intense.
Players like Bagshaw and Shepherd on the Flavovespian team got close, while the Edsmon edition was Rehcikt and Stuero.
Lajiflak Fruedenne also saw some action, firing a ball that curved a little too far.
Nearing the hour mark though, the Flavovespians stepped up the game a bit.
The Edsmons were forced into defense as Bagshaw, Shepherd, Hill, and more came up.
A series of passes, with a few failed interceptions, and suddenly, out in the open was Charles Shepherd.
In the blink of an eye, the ball was tearing off right towards the corner.
A dive, but no hands touch the ball as it's too late.

62' Make Some Changes
der-Ghavyr quickly looked at the bench after the Flavovespian goal.
If he didn't quickly replace his fatigued players, things would get worse.
At the next chance he got, off came Utravak, Zeukalmen and Ghreksbvy.
And on came three fresh pairs of legs: Bervaign, Ystermakt, and Reuhans.
Now, all that was left, was to hope that the substitutes would contain the yellow and black.

68' Don't Worry
"I knew that we weren't giving up this first matchday." said Maartin Stuero during a post-game interview. "So I was going to make something work."
Gathering his teammates, Bervaign helped him plan a path.
Using what he had seen during his time on the bench, Bervaign determined a set of moves that would throw off their opponents and land a goal in the net.
The Eagles quickly put it to work.
Up went the forward three, Frudenne, and Reuhans, and down went Ystermakt.
The Edsmons fortified their defense, making sure that if the operation failed, they could recover.
Reuhans sent a long ball to Rehcikt, who volleyed it off to the right wing.
Stuero tapped the ball, sending it up to Bervaign, who quickly returned the ball.
And in a flash, Stuero faked a shot, dribbled a bit, and fired a fierce low shot.
Fans watched, as the ball scraped past the opposition, barely touching Marriot...
And slamming right into the back of the net.

80' Almost There
The Edsmons were almost there.
They were very, very close to finding their winner, but so was Flavovespia.
Every time one of the teams grabbed a chance, fans went silent.
The buildup of anticipation was now reaching a height that was rarely seen.
Both teams knew though, that if they couldn't win, it'd best be a draw.

90+2' That Sweet Piercing Sound
The tension was very, very high.
The final minutes ticked away, with both teams fighting to take the crown.
Two minutes of stoppage time.
The last play starts.
A throw in, the ball is out to Stuero.
A pass to Reuhans, intercepted by Bagshaw.
Up comes Ystermakt, who claims the ball, and clears it.
*TWEET! TWEET! TWEEEEET!*
Not one sound was more loved by the Edsmons than this.
Their next game against Zenic would also be tough, but hopefully not as much.

---

EDSMON ROSTER

---

CHANGES FOR GROUP STAGE MD2

[Vdara]

You make me wanna make you fall in love

Matchday 15 (1), Baker Park versus Vdara

This stage of the World Cup had never been Vdara's most successful, to say the least. Having gone winless in their first eight group stage matches, a solitary 1-0 victory against Ethane in World Cup 90 saved a few blushes before it was back to business as usual, going winless in World Cups 95 and 96, before a shock 1-0 victory over Ko-oren just last cycle ended another painful run - only for them to seemingly enter another one, drawing with Squornshelous and succumbing to defeat against Bears Armed. This matchday's loss to Baker Park signified Vdara's eleventh defeat in World Cup group stages and condemned their goal difference at this stage to a woeful -17, with particular lowlights being a 7-3 loss to the Holy Empire and a further 4-1 loss to Zwangzug. Despite the scoreline not being quite as harsh, the result felt just as painful for all the players, staff, and fans, and a sour atmosphere appeared to be developing. Having got into an early lead against the Commonwealth, the game that panned out between Vdara and Baker Park had really put a dampener on the good spirits that had been coming to fruition. Despite a larger portion of Vdaran away fans than prior matches, the Meridian stadium felt like a very lonely place for the men and women on the pitch - who, to all of their credit, were still clapped off the pitch and celebrated by the supporters who had made the long trip to Jiangdong.

Dressing Room
The Meridian

The trudge to their designated dressing room felt like a hike to one's doom. Players were exhausted, exasperated, and expecting a bollocking from the ever-angry Markos Moustakakos, who looked to have visibly popped blood vessels as Terrell London ripped them to shreds in what felt like milliseconds. If they hadn't been torn apart enough, they were about to be torn a new one, as Mr. Inevitable came through the door with a thud.

"I'm going to start this simply - what in the name of ever-loving FUCK was that? Game in the palm of your hand, exchanging some blows, generally in control, and then they change formation and you all forget how to play football. Huh. It's like something I've never seen before, this level of incompetence. When civil servants, or politicians, or even fucking farmers fail to adapt to change, they are sacked, or they go out of business, or some other consequence to that effect. Regrettably, I can't really do that to most of you, because as it happens there is only a finite supply of talented footballers in this nation - and yet, for a good chunk of that game, none of you fucking looked like one! There are many labels I could give to this game - calamitous, irritating, shocking - but I'll stick with what I said on the touchline after the fourth goal. Fucking atrocious, that's what that was. Yous have played some of the best sides in the world, you've put Flavovespia to the sword, and now you're telling me you can't handle a simple tactical change? I mean, honestly, it's the same shit every year. We talk a big game, play well in the qualifiers, and then shit the bed as soon as the tournament fully kicks off. Obviously, Baker Park are not a simple opponent by any means whatsoever, but you don't get 'easy opponents' in the World Cup. Well, maybe other teams do, especially when they know that they're coming up against a side that's only ever won two matches in nineteen fucking attempts. We - and I'm referring to you all as a team, not me - need to get our shit together very fast, before more of your positions become less tenable over the coming weeks."

Markos began to single out specific players who were consistent with this criteria of "less tenable", staring down goalkeeper Emilios Nicolides.

"Emilios, I'm not entirely sure I was correct in my judgment when I thought you were suitable for games as big as these. I thought you might get better as you played some more, but it's starting to become clear to me that you really, really aren't up to this sort of thing. For starters, you couldn't catch a cold, considering how little we seem to be able to keep clean sheets. It's not as if the players in front of you are crap, son! They play in Kelssek, Tumbra, Tikariot, South Newlandia... is the Kryten league really this bad nowadays, if you're the main man there? I mean, I used to think all you could save was blushes, but now you're not even doing that. It all begs the question - what are you actually good for? There's a perfectly good goalkeeper who sits on the bench every week so that you can prove yourself, and yet every week I seem to be wondering why we're shipping goals at a greater rate than the post office ships parcels. Totally unacceptable, Emilios. And you, Sapphira. Do they not teach you how to pass to your own players in Nantwich? Every week, you ping the ball like it comes to you naturally, and yet today your passes are intercepted as if the traffic cops are watching you. Where is the talented Sapphira that I have been blessed with watching all cycle, eh? When was she replaced by Shitey Sapphira who couldn't pass to a stationary object, or run for more than 10 seconds at a time, or notice when an attacker is bounding down on her? You all make me want to tear my hair out - or at least what's fucking left of it - I swear to God. These sorts of results are so hard to take, especially when we do so well beforehand and then lay out such dross like this. It's as if, once we get by the qualifying stage, you all think the tournament is over, or you shit your pants like little children. This can no longer stand, I'm afraid. We have a massive match coming up, and if we don't actually get out of second gear then we are going to be sent home with egg on our faces, tails between our legs, however you want to call it. Embarrassed, to put it simply. We cannot continue in the manner that we are, and if we do there shall be absolute hell to pay, believe you me. Our fans pay a lot of money to follow us, they dedicate a lot of their time to watching all of you, and I want you to actually act like you want to repay them when we travel to Nangang."

Concluding his rant with a red-faced, wide-eyed stare at his players, Markos sauntered out the room, slamming the door shut and leaving the players to talk amongst themselves. Then, he had a change of heart, and he swiftly flung the door back open.

"Trust me when I say that I will not hesitate to send some of you fuckwits home. Either you impress me, or you will never, ever play for Vdara again. You have my word!

By now, this dressing room's door had taken an absolute beating, and yet another doorslam sent chips of wood onto the floor. Clearly the man meant business, and it wasn't just his own players he was threatening either...

Tovaca
Tikariot

Whilst his players took it upon themselves to train even harder for the upcoming Busoga Islands match, an anonymous tipster had informed Markos that the culprits responsible for vandalising his beloved car were members of the Kamijiro national team, who just so happened to be playing the day after them. Thus, the enraged manager booked the first flight he could, the rage from both the incident and yesterday's match fuelling him. He arrived in Tovaca via a coach trip, with said coach helpfully parking close to the Kamijiro team bus. After using some 'creative' methods to gain access to the bus, he located its lavatory. With Tovaca having a notably hot climate, the thought of doing something truly awful came to Markos' mind - and luckily for him, he felt like being truly awful. As Kamijiro's players were readying themselves for a famous victory over HUElavia, the Vdaran manager opted to drop an absolute stinker in their toilet, leaving a lovingly-written note to the two players deemed responsible for Kamijiro's retribution for 'Doorgate':

Hi Sōji. Hi Katsu.

This is stage one. I hope you enjoy the present I have left you both.

Making a swift exit, he boarded the first flight back to Jiangdong, linking back up with his players for the trip to Nangang. "What a prick you are, Markos." he said, smirking to himself.

[West Vdara]

Channel 2 Kanaria

"They're calling it the best result there's ever been, comrades. It doesn't get much better than this. Just earlier today, the glorious socialist heroes you have all grown to know and love have PUNISHED the lowly Westfield Lodgians 31-0, a result which is clearly the largest winning margin in World Cup history! Unfortunately, due to evil sanctions from capitalist pigdogs, today's broadcast shall conclude early as energy supplies run low. But fear not, we shall return to your television screens as soon as possible, more gloriously than before!"

Before MD2:

Peace, Love, and Socialist Integrity       P   W  D  L  Pts
West Vdara                                 1   1  0  0    3
Westwest Kalactin                          1   0  1  0    1
West Newlandia                             1   0  1  0    1
Westfield Lodge                            1   0  0  1    0

To play:
West Newlandia (Flavovespia), Arena of Glory, Anti-Capitalism, and West Vdaran Peacethought (Dhaencunor Arena), Tikariot City

[Saint Eleanor]

OOC: Ko-oren will not be able to properly read this until Monday morning (CET), several hours after cutoff. However, he is aware that Lara Torridge will be travelling across his nation; I've consulted with him as to many details; I've found his factbooks to be a great help; and I've historically had very few problems (none of them deal-breaking) when publishing my Torridge RPs in advance. I've also wired a link to this roleplay to him for his ease of reference. I'm therefore confident this isn't a godmod.
I have also used my best efforts to use the new-style Gehrennan names, rather than the old-style multilingual names (as is ICly the policy of the Academy).

Addendum: Yes, I know I've already published "Episode 22," but I managed to skip Episode 17 when publishing my Flavovespia RP. I'll edit my past Lara Torridge RPs in the coming days purely to correct the titles of "Episodes 18-22," without bumping any threads and without prejudice to the fact that the Ko-oren episode is the correct Episode 22.

Group of Six meeting (LVI) --- SAINT ELEANOR 1-1 Eshialand
Participants: Gentle Breeze, Reniira Clevinger, Stephen Mitcham ~ Bridget Coombe [C], Cathy Winchester [VC], Lydia Vickers [ballot]
Location: the grand meeting room at the Krystallin; Atlem, QUS

This was A GOOD, SOLID RESULT that will hopefully put us ON TRACK FOR QUALIFICATION. The result was as everyone thought it would be. The execution might just have been EVEN BETTER.

Despite a few early attacks from the Owls, we held the line CONSISTENTLY. 4-1-4-1 proved to be the right call - the midfield always acted in sync, like the defence normally does

Will Sandrie was as dangerous as he usually is. Of course, there was the goal after half an hour, not ideal given that we've suffered that fate twice against Island Fusion (not to mention others)
But he got multiple other shots on target, menaced the back line, was nice and helpful, clearly the POTM... Olympia would have killed for a similar performance but then that is against her moral code

We were RESILIENT AND WE FOUGHT BACK. Much to be said for the defenders when they weren't against Double-Oh Sandrie: everyone in position, offside trap in effect, focused marking, no mistakes just Eshialandian BRILLIANCE
Northend was surprisingly mediocre - at least she only did nothing. Nacle Ohan on the other hand was a worthy substitute, always proved his worth, successfully bamboozled Hopal
The rest of the midfield was good going forward (and excellent going back, as mentioned) - Bridget pretty much micromanaged everything, Wunderbar and Hollenberg good as ever
Wunderbar was getting a bit irritable out there and while he's not at Fuck This Shit, I Want To Kill Someone levels yet we thought it was best to drag Steve on the pitch midway through second
Olympia had a good day. She struck the bar twice and was pretty good at deception for a while, but awaits her first World Cup goal so is well worthy of support

Everyone thought we were going to lose but with a bit under ten minutes left, Steve Pilchard returns, Nacle's corner almost gets snuffed out but he's there to just bundle it in without a second thought. Bridget was robbed innit!?

Eleanorian player ratings: Esther 9.5/10 (seriously underrated performance even by me), Steve 9/10, Ohan 9/10, Wunderbar 7/10, Angelica 6/10, EVERYONE ELSE 8/10. Let's get everyone up to Esther's level next time, she's genuinely a nice person

All in all, Eshialand were the real threat in Group C - our record against them has not exactly been perfect - and it is my pleasure to report that we have avoided embarrassment. Qusmo and Valentine Z should be easier, but by no means are they guaranteed wins, as you know.



With Eshialand hopefully out of the way for this cycle... can we help Qusmo ENJOY THEIR WORLD CUP AT HOME?

Stephen: "Based on the numbers, yes"
Me: "Let's review the teamsheet... this is a bit boring isn't it"
Lydia: "Everyone knows how to play against a 4-4-2"
Cathy: "You say that, we're a 4-2-3-1 country"
Lydia: "Yes but if you can play against a 4-2-3-1 you can play against a 4-4-2, you already know how to work past the midfield and everything!"
Bridget: "It's well-known that the Qusmi'y also hold a defensive line, if a competitively untested one"
GB: "Very well, then; we're going to assume we'll need something special to get past them"
Stephen: "That's what we've been doing throughout qualifying, so we should be good"
Lydia: "No, we're not safe, we need to keep an eye out for Belaj-Rilan on the left - that's Rachel's job"
Bridget: "Teamsheet, please... Latrobe Athletic, you say?"
Me: "You haven't been there for a while"
GB: "I think we'll be fine with one through eleven, normal strategy"
Bridget: "Have we maybe considered that this is the nicest, fanciest hotel we have ever been in"
Me: "Okay, that's not tactics"
GB: "It is, however, strategy"
Stephen: "My dad was not involved in this decision"
Lydia: "Wow, what an anticlimax. I went to private school though, ask me anything"
Me: "What's the most beer you've ever had"
Lydia: "A couple of pints...? I try to be sensible"
Bridget: "This is Saint Eleanor, everyone is automatically sensible"
Lydia: "My mum's from Prahecq though"
Me: "We welcome people from all different backgrounds, so long as they meet the eligibility rules"
GB: "Or were appointed on merit!"

HOW NOT TO HOST THE WORLD CUP:
AVOID DEVIATING FROM THE REGULAR PLAN
QUSMO SHOULD BE TREATED LIKE AN ORDINARY TEAM
DO NOT LOSE YOUR HEADS IF YOU ARE STONEWALLED
THE KNOCKOUT STAGES ARE WITHIN OUR GRASP
THIS SHOULD BE SWEET...

4-2-3-1:
___________ ARIELLE ____________
CATHY - LYDIA - ESTHER - EXANDRA
_____ BRIDGET - WUNDERBAR ____
GRAHAM - KAVEZALEA - ANGELICA
____________ OLYMPIA __________


Reniira Clevinger is seven games away from another World Cup trophy if all goes to plan

The Grand Tour of Anaia - Ko-oren: A more navigable - and more innavigable - place than I bargained for

by Lara Torridge - March 27th 2006

I'm well aware that Ko-oren has, in recent years, tried to transition towards Gehrennan-language names. My arrival at what I have always assumed is Greencaster Harbour belies this fact - I dock my boat (never to be returned to StrayaRoos), look around, and ask one local if there's much in Greencaster he'd like to recommend for me. He looks at me with some disgust and explains to me that I am in fact in Garihnkatar. The people at the post office are more understanding, although, and decide to offer me the appropriate local currency, no questions asked.

Exchange rate: 268 Roosian dollars = 36,754 korona (R$1.05 = $1 = 144 korona)

Well aware of how short on money I now am, I decide to pull out an extra 50,000 korona from the nearest ATM I can find.

Day 1: Summary

What I wore: a tiny little coat, short-sleeved shirt, normal jeans and a pair of trainers
What I spent: 3,200 korona
What I've got left over: 95 Eleanorian dollars for emergencies; 83,554 korona

I notice very quickly that I haven't quite made full use of my wardrobe at this time. Given Amahne's relatively bohemian reputation, I decide it would be best for me to dress the part before boarding the train there. While boarding, I'm immediately recognised as an Eleanorian; nobody can bring themselves to ask me about Academy, however.

[section on Amahne coming after cutoff!]

Day 2: Summary

What I wore: a leather jacket, Sword and Shield replica top, long skirt and a pair of sturdy boots
What I spent: 3,600 korona - almost
What I've got left over: 95 Eleanorian dollars for emergencies; 80,000 korona

I decide, once again, to dress appropriately for the setting before heading off to Majara, Senoren, Maethoru, and to some extent Gehrenna - only a few of the places whose names were not changed (or not all that changed) in the recent reform, for obvious reasons. It's called method acting. I am made well aware through the local signage, after arriving at Majara, that there are a few walkable trails connecting the capitals around the bay. I am neither Bridget Coombe nor endowed with infinite time, however, so I spend my time looking inside the State Library, picking out that one fantasy novel everyone is raving about, scrolling through fifty pages of it in the reading room before deciding I hate it, and then taking the ferry to Senoren.

[section on Maethoru and Ko-oren's other capitals coming after cutoff!]

The rest of my evening is spent not in a hotel of some sort, but spent waiting for - and ultimately taking, at some unreasonable hour - the ferry to Razahnbahna across the strait.

Day 3: Summary

What I wore: the pink tweed skirt set (at long last), a pair of tights, and the massive boots
What I spent: 4,320 korona
What I've got left over: 95 Eleanorian dollars for emergencies; 75,680 korona

I find that Razahnbahna is interesting and mutually intelligible enough, but barely so. I think this might just be the first place on my travels where I've met someone who's openly happy to pay their taxes - although this was by pure chance at one of the local cafés and, in any event, she was not particularly enthusiastic about how Rozenvoorde FC was doing. I figure that, on the train to Shemurdar and then Seterbohdu, there will be slightly more to shout about.

Literally the first thing I see after walking out of Shemurdar's central train station is a very large lorry. When I ask the driver what he is doing, he points out that he is just helping to import some beans for the station's in-house coffee shop. I decide to have some it myself, it having been a sufficiently long day, and appreciate the effort enough; I would have thanked him had he not driven off in the time I took to enjoy my lunch. I have made an effort to pick up some basic Gehrennan as well as some basic manners over the past few days, and therefore the local dockworkers are less annoyed when trying to interact with me than they would have been in my time at Garihnkatar; there's one particularly lovely bookshop where I manage to pick up an interesting book about how things used to be in Andossa Se Mitrin Vega, one of their few Terranean-language works, and I find it much more interesting than whatever rubbish I was eating up in Montesina a couple of weeks ago.

It is not too far from here to the Schemerdrecht Gardens. It is, of course, spring for my Eleanorian audience, and all the horticulture there is as amazing as you would expect. It is about as far to the Academic National History Museum, which I appreciate in general - and especially to the extent it concerns psychology, for reasons my dedicated readers will be able to understand. By contrast, there is a universal understanding of the importance of the local harbour, and no more so than by the hawkers, who are almost Vilwandian in their dedication to just sell me random goods. I walk away with a few trinkets and, for whatever reason, a couple of exotic chocolates that I cannot help but eat. Offers of fruit were rejected.

The food I had in Shemurdar bore little resemblance to an actual meal. The food I had in Seterbohdu was, in context, quite possibly the largest plate of fish and chips I have ever willingly eaten. I also insist it will be the last time I have a fine wine, or whatever the Ko-orenite equivalent of that is, alongside a proper fry-up. The real highlight of my visit there - after I am irritated to learn that the Planetarium is the home of the Sterrenwolde Dragonflies gridiron club, who are not playing today rather than a museum of astrology - is the Maritime Museum, which I find to be more exciting than I, an Eleanorian "city girl" with little interest in fish and fishing, could have imagined finding it. I walk around the town for a few hours that evening - I wonder how my nice, tall, domesticated pair of boots will ever forgive me for it - and manage to book myself a nearby hotel which I find to be comfortable enough. In reality, "comfortable enough" is as good as I can hope for these days.

Day 4: Summary

What I wore: the same as last time
What I spent: 2,592 korona
What I've got left over: 95 Eleanorian dollars for emergencies; 73,088 korona

It takes the small matter of yet another ferry, and a train to Cirelbourne in which I do precious little other than have a look at the couple of the old mines and argue with a few hardened, confident, and conservative-minded men at the pub about Gehrennification - not all that different to working-class Saint Eleanor, in hindsight. I do, however, manage to end up in Berelkhanaur after a few hours. I spend some of it in a cafe with my new book about Andossa Se Mitrin Vega, about which exactly one person (a Ko-orenite) talks to me; some of it playing the most sanitised game of cricket I will ever play with a bunch of teenagers who know little better; and a great deal of it walking around, exploring the scenery, appreciating the good fortune I have. It is dreadfully ironic that the one place in Ko-oren where I can actually hold down a reasonable conversation with the locals is the one where I'm least interested in talking to people.

Day 5: Summary

What I wore: {to be determined}
What I spent: nothing by cash; a small amount by card
What I've got left over: 95 Eleanorian dollars for emergencies; 73,088 korona

As exciting as the past few days have been, I do need to get out of Ko-oren eventually, and decide that the best way to do so is to hitch yet another train ride directly to Ilohbonu, the site of my first overnight stay. I faintly recall from some of the conversations I had while waiting for the train to Amahne that there are many great sporting attractions, so I decide that dressing sensibly and with lots of caffeine in mind would be the right call.

[section on Ilohbonu coming after cutoff, although this will mostly be Lara exploring the local museums and walking around a lot. And I mean A LOT.]

Of course, there are a few places I haven't visited. The islands are the most notable omissions; I'm told there are some nice temples in Katahshi, but I think I'll leave that to our religion correspondent. a. Two major, lasting lessons are to be learned from this, however: make sure you learn the languages, even if only to a passable extent; and, if you can't convince your employers to give you extra time on holiday, at least get yourself a folding bicycle.

Day 6: Summary

What I wore: {to be determined, sorry I have to make cutoff}
What I spent: 2,160 korona
What I've got left over: 95 Eleanorian dollars for emergencies; 70,928 korona

---

The Grand Tour of Anaia - Plough Islands: Mostly not my idea of a good time, despite the vibes

by Lara Torridge - March 29th 2006

(OOC note: deliberately unwritten at this time. Circa November 2023, Plough told me - via the Anaia Discord - that he was "not sure what Lara's intentions in the Plough Islands would be but there's a nonzero possibility she'd be limited to consuming seven cups of well-brewed tea at Echodale Interdimensional Airport before being escorted onto the next flight out of the country." While I'm aware that negotiations have not advanced since then, I'm still working on the assumption that her visit will be as short and uneventful as Plough himself imagines it will be, and I have therefore left this space open accordingly. Kharakia, on the other hand, has given me his permission for Lara to visit West Kharakia, mainland Kharakia, and the Kharakian Archipelago, and that is what she will be doing on Matchday the Third. I also have Tik's permission to swing by Pyazhnaya but don't count on that being ready in time.)

[The Kytler Peninsulae]

This is the MD2 cutoff

[Sarzonia]

Despite being placed in what they described as the Group of Death, the Sarzonian national football team's chances of advancing to the Round of 32 remains very much alive.

Sarzonia were facing Group L's fourth seeds Hapilooper after learning that the highest ranked side in the group, No. 10 Juvencus just lost a thriller against the group's second seeds, No 11 Tanirinthia. The result meant that whichever of the two lower seeded teams prevailed would put themselves in an advantageous position to qualify for the knockout rounds.

That would be Sarzonia, as the 28th ranked team made relatively drama-free work of 55th ranked Hapilooper and prevailed 3-0 behind a two-goal performance from Spencer Wilson, who also assisted Kitt Morgan's goal in the 84th minute that all but shuttered the door on Hapilooper in front of a crowd of 39,872 at the CBDN Bowl in Cobden.

When the final whistle sounded, the Stars jogged onto the pitch in muted celebration, knowing the road to the knockout rounds hadn't yet been officially reached. They still had to face Tanirinthia in the group stage finale, and they knew they needed to not crap the bed in order to qualify for the Round of 32. A victory or a draw would give Sarzonia the Group L title outright, while a one-goal defeat to Tanirinthia would mean the Stars would win the goal differential tiebreaker. Things begin to get dicey if the Stars lose by two goals or more in the finale. A two-goal defeat would leave Caleb Rush's crew level in overall points and overall goal differential, but Tanirinthia would then win the head-to-head points tiebreaker.

It didn't matter for Wilson and the rest of the team.

"We're planning to go out there seeking a result," he said. "We don't want to be at the mercy of the Qusman seeding system if we don't play to our full potential." Goalkeeper John Wells agreed, saying he wanted to make sure the team had strong momentum heading out of group play.

"You'd rather get into the knockout rounds on a roll than back your way in," he said. "We kinda did that last time out and we lost to Valanora in the Round of 32."

Rush said he was planning on playing his usual starting 11 and substituting as if the match were life-or-death.

"We're not a team that can afford to take our foot off the pedal," he said. "We have to get after it."

[Eshialand]

https://www.blogwrite.esh/statscorner/11-24-31/oh_for_eleven

STATS CORNER
Eshian Sports by the Numbers

---

OH FOR ELEVEN
Just know you are never alone in your efforts.

Hello and welcome back to Stats Corner. I'm Josh Seametzle, and yes, I'm just as heartbroken about the Valentine Z match as you all are. Four consecutive qualifications, some with monster qualifying stages, with nothing to show for it... that will hurt anyone. Of course it would. And some of this discourse about Hapilopper finally breaking their curse earlier this tournament got me thinking... where does the whole 0-3-8 thing put us in the grand scheme of things? Where is Eshialand in this crazy story of trials, tribulations, and utter Sisyphean futility? That's a story I'd like to help you all uncover, together. So, let's get right into it.

One thing I like to do when I answer questions such as these ones is look at the Idiot Project database so carefully kept by Jeremy Jaffacake all these decades. It's such a valuable resource for anything World Cup Statistics adjacent, and without it this article would never be written. Enough glazing though, let's dive right into the stats. Where are we in this world?

Well, it's possible to sort every team by how many finals matches they've played, to find the people who've spent the longest winning the least. First, a mention to those of us who went three full qualifying campaigns sans wins: of course, ourselves, and the Hapiloppians who've broken off the list since the data was last updated, but also the long gone nations of Port Christopher, Green Wombat, and Assegai Developments. "But Josh," I already hear you saying, "those nations didn't qualify a fourth time, what about--" and yes, I do hear you. Don't worry, I have a story.

Picture this. The year is 1958 Eshian calendar, late in 2005 on the Original Ordinary Calendar, and this is World Cup 25. You've qualified to the last 4 World Cups, and, well...

Group B                GP  W  D  L GF GA GD Pts
Cockbill Street         2  1  1  0  3  1 +2   4
Squornshelous           2  1  1  0  3  2 +1   4
Spruitland              2  0  1  1  3  4 -1   1
Five Civilized Nations  2  0  1  1  2  4 -2   1

See the team at the bottom there? The Five Civilized Nations? These are our heroes today. This is a very familiar group for them, with Spruitland and Squornshelous having been direct rematches from their WC24 group, and for us too it looks so familiar, doesn't it? They went into this World Cup, held in Audioslavia and KP (except back in those days those letters stood for Kaze Progressa rather than the Kytler Peninsulae) with just one point in their last 3 appearances. Sure, they hadn't won their group, rather they finished third behind Sarzonia and a nation whose name has been struck from the history books*, and technical difficulties have left us any of their news to tell us how this cup had them feeling, but you have to believe hopes were high for them to finally break through. After all you, dear Eshians, know this feeling so, so well.

Unfortunately, as you can see in the standings, things weren't off to such a great start. 0-2 to Cockbill Street, 2-2 to Spruitland, with MD3 being against Squornshelous. Mind you, this was before their World Cup wins, but anyone who remembers WC97 knows that Squornshelans can come from nowhere and do anything to anyone. It was an uphill battle to be sure, but surely, they would give it their best shot, right?

And, well, they did.

GROUP B
Squornshelous 1 Five Civilized Nations 1
Cockbill Street 2 Spruitland 1

And it wasn't enough. The Pschychoes, as the Squornshelan team was then known, would go on to place third in that Cup, going on to win 31 and of course 97 beyond that, while the Nations would limp on through a 3-4-5 campaign in World Cup 26 Qualifying, before sitting out 27 and coming back to go 4-4-4 in 28... but it was never the same for them. The Nations were relegated to a footnote from a time long, long gone. Forgotten. They fought the forces of futility, and they lost. To this day, they are the only team to qualify for four or more World Cups and never win a game in any of them.

However, they and the Owls are not alone in the oh for eleven club. After all, this story has yet to give us a happy ending, and I'm a firm believer in stories having happy endings in the end. It's time to introduce a new face to the story, one from a time much more recent, and consequently much easier for me to research. Enter Antoletia.

The Fire Ants first appeared in BoF 41, in a group that included the FSSO, a nation more familiar to modern readers by the name of Eura. Unfortunately for Antoletia, this group also didn't happen to include any points for them. In the ensuing World Cup 54 qualifiers, it was an 0-2-8 run for them, with the only thing of note being a draw on the final MD against Carpathia and Ruthenia. A lesser nation steps away after a run like this and acts like it never happened. They hide in their history books, pretending there never ever was a football team in their nation to begin with.

But not the Fire Ants. They took WC55 off, but they came right back in 56. By WC58, they were even able to make it to the finals, although that was more of a one-off then a positive direction for them, as they wouldn't be seen in the finals again for another 8 cycles. Yes, unlike Eshialand or the Five Nations before them, these were not consecutive appearances. Whether this served to make the climb even more grueling or helped space out the pain of their finals failures is left as an exercise to the reader. Nonetheless, they came back in World Cups 66 and 67, missed out on 68 thanks to a playoff loss to Quebec, then beat Jeruselem in the next playoffs to head to World Cup 69 with an all-time finals record of three draws, six losses.

* Group D                        Pld   W  D  L   GF  GA  GD  Pts 
1 Valladares                       2   2  0  0    6   2  +4    6
2 Saintland                        2   1  0  1    5   6  −1    3
3 The Inevitable Syndicate         2   1  0  1    3   3   0    3
4 Antoletia                        2   0  0  2    0   3  −3    0

They had already lost to Valladares and the Inevitable Mertagnes, leaving them in a very unenviable position. In a time before the third-placed team had a shot to move on, being 0-0-2 was a death sentence for your hopes to get to the knockouts. It looked like another also-ran campaign, one which would be followed by another couple cycles in darkness... but they could maybe play spoiler to keep Saintland out of the knockouts. There was also an off-chance that a three-way tiebreaker could ensue but... let's not get bogged down in details. Details ruin magic, and magic was in the air that night in Apox...

Group D
Saintland 0–2 Antoletia
The Inevitable Syndicate 0–2 Valladares

* Group D                        Pld   W  D  L   GF  GA  GD  Pts 
1 Valladares                       3   3  0  0    8   2  +6    9
2 Antoletia                        3   1  0  2    2   3  −1    3
3 The Inevitable Syndicate         3   1  0  2    3   5  −2    3
4 Saintland                        3   1  0  2    5   8  −3    3

Onlookers couldn't believe what had happened. The Fire Ants couldn't believe what happened. Not even the organizers, who had penciled Antoletia in as being eliminated prior to MD3, could believe it. Thanks to the absolutely perfect results in both matches, Antoletia, Mertagne, and Saintland were tied. All of them had one win and one loss against the others, so the head to head table was even too. The second tiebreaker was overall goal difference, and there, because the stars aligned and both matches were decided by multiple goals, it was Antoletia on top. After 11 failures in the World Cup finals, they finally had a win, and it was enough for them to face the Northern Sunrise Islands in the Round of 16. As an added bonus, due to an exceptionally funny twist of fate, they won in penalty kicks, which brought them to the quarterfinals without even counting as a second win in the history books.

Sure, they lost the quarterfinals handily to Osarius (who like Squornshelous in our last story ended up getting third), but they got there. They, unlike the Five Civilized Nations, fought futility and won. Sure, they never got to the finals again -- instead hanging around for a few cycles before quitting after a World Cup 73 qualifiers that saw them drawn with Ko-oren, Starblaydia, and Brenecia -- but you can't deny that they did it. They got there. One for fourteen.

So, I know you're asking, what does this even mean for Eshialand?

Simply put, the Owls are not the first ones to be in this position, nor will they ever be the last. The history of the World Cup is a long one, and the worlds will keep turning for a long time. As long as balls keep getting kicked, contesting this trophy as old as time itself, there will be more nations fighting against the forces of futility, feeling as down on their luck as you, dear reader, may feel as an Eshian after that loss to the Valentian Kittens. Only one question remains: do they end up like the Nations, or the Fire Ants?

However... there is always a third option. After all, for both of these nations before the Owls, that was the climax of their stories. They never got back to the big stage again... but it doesn't have to be this way for the Owls. Sure, it may feel like the story is coming to a head for now, but there's still so much more football to be played, and so much more time for Eshialand to play it. Whether or not the Owls finally get their win in Polan, the story doesn't have to end here. Sure, this chapter of seemingly Sisyphean efforts to win might end, but that doesn't have to be Eshialand's story in the same way the Five Civilized Nations never had it that good again. Keep coming back, keep supporting your Owls through thick and thin, and one of these days they will do everything you've ever hoped for and more.

Until next time, I've been Josh Seametzle, supporting our team as strongly as I have since day one. Good luck out there, Owls.

*OOC Note: Crystilakere.

[Gnejs]

Enda Clentin’s Last Dance

Epilogue

The Tulip With Stinging Bees

The story of how the 98th World Cup cycle became Enda Clentin’s last as the head coach of the Prosaic Union National Football Team came to an end as the 98th World Cup was about to begin. Old Enda was no more, the coach of the Prosaic Union National Football Team, that is. I suppose you could’ve called it the story of how the qualifications for the 98th World Cup became Enda Clentin’s last as the head coach of the Prosaic Union National Football Team, but it doesn’t really have the same ring to it as calling it the story of how the 98th World Cup cycle became Enda Clentin’s last as the head coach of the Prosaic Union National Football Team. Besides, that is how it has always been known. But I digress.

I’m not going to tell the story of the 98th World Cup, because that’s been done so many times and we all know how it ends, but I’ve consented to say a choice few words about the aftermath of Old Enda’s departure. It’ll touch upon the 98th World Cup, naturally, but it’s not the story of the 98th World Cup (I’ll wager you’re tired of that one!). No, the only reason I’ll cover subject matters related to the 98th World Cup is because they’re ultimately crucial to the story of how The Prosaic Union of Gnejs ceased to be, and the beginning of that story and the ending of the story of how the 98th World Cup cycle became Enda Clentin’s last as the head coach of the Prosaic Union National Football Team are so intricately linked you really can’t have one without the other. There’s no way around, really, and therefore you’ll have to bear with me and stomach a bit of material about the 98th World Cup (apologies).

At the very end of qualifications to the 98th World Cup, Timotej Hansen - assistant coach to legends Bjørnstjerne Eriksen and Enda Clentin alike - suddenly found himself the de facto head coach of the Prosaic Union National Football Team. When Clentin vanished without a trace, it was only natural that his second-in-command took over. Timotej, ever the timid man and with a personality reminiscent of trying to hold in explosive diarrhea while desperately searching for a toilet in a crowded maze, was not enthused. However, he soldiered through it. A heavy toll of stress and irritable bowels it was, but we’d be lying if we said it was very hard work. No, the players - by this point in time used to being without a head coach for much of the time - mostly sorted themselves and Timotej’s part was essentially limited to observing. Maybe he suggested a substitution every now and then, but you could be sure he’d swiftly retract it as soon as he floated it. In that sense, it wasn’t all that different from his regular life as a timid assistant coach. Despite everything, The Dandelions performed well after Clentin’s exodus and ended their qualification at the top of group 16, although of course this is known and not very relevant. What was relevant, was the clash between Timotej’s indecisiveness and chronic anxiety under the extreme pressure of being appointed permanent head coach ahead of the 98th World Cup down southron way by the Xandrian Sea. This toxic cocktail would in no small part both make its mark on The Quiet Dignity of the Dandelion and usher in the final days of The Prosaic Union.

Timotej’s employers at PUFF had made it clear from the start that they wanted a decisive and proactive head coach guiding the Prosaic Union National Football Team during what could very well be their most successful World Cup campaign ever. They had decided on appointing Timotej, because in him they saw the possibility of a most potent fusion of coaching philosophies. The man had spent years assisting and studying Bjørnstjerne Eriksen’s Layered Wall and Enda Clentin’s Stoic Press, and perhaps it was the merging of these two doctrines into one cohesive fist that would make The Prosaic Union finally unleash its full footballing potential. A Layered Stoic Wall Press, perhaps. Or a Stoic Layer of Pressing Walls? Something like that. That was the idea, anyway, and Timotej’s marching order no less.

We’re not mincing words when we say that this all scared Timotej shitless. His usual mode of light anxiety quickly morphed into a state of constant panic anxiety and his only way of coping was putting off doing much with his new appointment. He took to wandering the streets and looked to distract himself from anything related to football or Dandelions. The players and the rest of the staff were looking to him for guidance, of course, because they had all been briefed by PUFF about how Timotej’s new regime would bring about revolutionary innovations, but he kept them all at arms length with vague promises of great things to come. Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months, and by this point, poor Timotej was a seriously frazzled soul. Having subsided solely on Dr Pepper and paracetamol for the better part of a month, he was in a right state, but the date of departure for the Xandrian Sea was inching ever closer and he was rapidly approaching the event horizon. He, a man who was most comfortable with doing nothing, needed to do something.

He started the day before the Union contingent’s scheduled trip to Alaer and The Kytler Peninsulae like he started most other days, with making breakfast for his wife – grilled kidney – and trying to unclog a bowel blockage while obsessing over her rampant infidelity. Then he once again commenced wandering the streets of Port Kejm. He stopped by the post office to pick up a letter from his mistress only to tear it up under a bridge, he attended a funeral for a distant acquaintance and lusted over the deceased’s second cousin. He got into heated political discussions at a local pub and haggled with newspaper editors over promoting his wife’s upcoming burlesque show. Anything to keep his mind off the upcoming trip down southron way. He spent the afternoon and early evening hanging around the maternity ward at Port Kejm General and discussed literature and medicine over stout and whiskey with some students, before ending up in a shady establishment on the northside and crying violently into the bosom of an old madam while hallucinating vividly about castration. And when the night started transitioning into morning, the morning of his departure, he finally returned home. His wife was fast asleep, but he could not join her in their bed. He tried reading a book about horses, but found their teeth too frightening. He sat by the kitchen window and looked out over the neverending eastern seas. In an uncharacteristically bold moment he opened up his inbox and scrolled through some of the correspondence he had ignored since being appointed head coach. He lingered for a while on an email from his goalkeeper, Aristocles Svendsen, and it merely said: «No man is free who is not a master of himself». This stirred something within Timotej Hansen, and he decided that it was time to grab the bull by its horns. He spent the next hours working with a ferocity previously unseen, and while he still had the runs as he made his way to the airport he moved with a sense of pride and satisfaction.

He unveiled his grand plan for the players and the rest of the staff on their first night in Alaer. The Quiet Dignity (which was Timotej’s preferred nickname for the team) would play the 2-3-2-1-2. Two stoppers, with three defensive ball-winning midfielders hovering just above them in the lower midfield, where the entire group was positioned interlockingly, like a zipper where nothing gets past once all its pieces are locked together. Just above the outer pairing of the second trio: two wingbacks, one to the left and one to the right, who are easily converted into fullbacks if need be. In the middle of them, a strong and resilient deep-lying playmaker with a delicate passing capability and an unquestionable eye for the beautiful game, crowned with two swift, tall and strong target men at the very top. There was confusion, of course, and a bit of frustration (understandable, seeing as their opening game was the very next day), but Timotej was relentless and would accept no opposition. He said it was his own design and philosophy. The perfect amalgamation of Stoic Press and Layered Wall and the quintessential highest form of «Gnejsian Football».

The truth was that Timotej had tried coming up with something, but he had failed and subsequently stole his new playing system from an online forum he used to frequent dedicated to the game Fußball Manager X3000. This new system he was implementing was called «The Tulip With Stinging Bees». And it was clear, to anyone who’s been paying attention, that this constituted a very bad omen.

[Zenic]

"What the hell happened?"

Luke Killian had made a reputation of himself recently of not being an explosive personality. He was never TRULY one, even in his heyday, but amongst his futboling peers he was known to have his moments. This was gearing up to be one of them. "That was barely competitive. We're the most aggressive team in this group and somehow we get doubled up by the team running the CHRISTMAS TREE?!"

Geraldo Zys was uncharacteristically somber, with his head down by his knees. Zys had suffered many defeats and failed to win many tournaments in his tenure as manager of the Survivors, the Zenician National Futbol team. But this was a weird loss. The Survivors had gone up 1-0 thanks to Cecil Maruscak after 22 minutes and everything appeared to be on the up and up. Suddenly, the wheels fell off while doing 100 mph. 4 goals in almost the same amount of time it took Zenic to score 1 is almost unheard of in any day and age, let alone this one.

Zys believed he had everything under control when Seamons scored two minutes into the second half to cut the lead but it was just false hope. The Edsmon Eagles scored two more before the Survivors scored a decent consolation prize with a Sumida Nori header off of a corner. "I mean, if we hadn't scored that last goal, we would literally have tied their greatest margin of victory. Becoming someone else's biggest win ever is bad enough but doing it while in the WORLD CUP ITSELF?!"

It was tough for Zys to sit by and watch. This squad had achieved much in such a short time and yet it felt like they had seemingly begun to stall. A team that just moved into the top 25 shouldn't feel like every game is a do or die. But here Zenic was; on the verge of potentially missing the knockout stage of the World Cup for the first time since Killian himself had managed the squad to their first ever visit to the big stage. The exact opposite of what he wanted to ever happen.

Killian sat down next to Zys, exhausted. The silence between them felt prolonged when in reality, it must have been a minute at most. "So, what are we looking at?" Zys lifted his head for only the third time in this conversation. Unconditionally, a win and we're in. What place we finish in is conditionally based on Edsmontik drawing or losing against West Vdara but at that point, we'll take anything. Draw and we have a roughly 66% chance of qualifying, this time based on West Vdara failing to defeat Edsmontik. I'm doing rough math so you may need to ask the stats team." Killian chuckled in agreement. "A loss eliminates us wholesale."

Killian gave himself a moment to take all that information in and process it as well as he could. "Clearly, we have to go for the win and be okay with a draw, should it come to that," he stated. "I agree. Keep up the attack, win the midfield, let it rip on goal," Zys responded. Killian slapped his knees and stood up. "That settles it. We have a gameplan, now let's execute it. And I know better than anyone to not get in your way so I'll be cheering from the stands." Zys stood up himself and shook the FZF president's hand. "Thank you for this. We'll do everything we can to get the result we need."

"I know; it's why I hired you. Now get this team ready and show us what you've got."

[Chromatika]

World Cup Proper Matchday 2: Chromatika 4-4 Valanora @ The Wonderland, Carroll Lewiston, The Kytler Peninsulae (Cap. 41,054)
Goals: Fillar, B. 29', Prenn 38', Xuen-Zhukov 71', 88'
Starting Lineup: Fillar, J. (C); Coulibaly - Jackson-Jones - Nodis; Fillar, G. - Larriet-Cortes - Fillar, B. - Fillar, E.; Prenn; Xuen-Zhukov - Howard-Dawes.
Substitutes: Saburo -> Nodis (52'), Mesic-Mizayaki -> Larriet-Cortes (52'), Harry -> Jackson-Jones (66'), Jean-Baptiste -> Howard-Dawes (66'), Mátyás -> Fillar, E. (80')
Summary: Lavrentiy Xuen-Zhukov reminded Chromatika and the rest of the world why he is one of the premier strikers in the multiverse by scoring a brace in the last twenty minutes to lead the Anomalies from another two-goal deficit as Chromatika battled to their second draw in as many games at the World Cup Proper in The Kytler Peninsulae. For the second time in a row, it was the midfield that gave Chromatika fits, as the Marauders went out to a 3-2 lead at halftime mostly by channeling the ball through the middle of play. Despite Baillaire Fillar and Maddie Prenn scoring from range to tie the game at 1-1 and 2-2, Laborious Hawk and company had Juxon Fillar totally flummoxed as he and the back three were being pulled in too many directions at once. When Imre Haaland completed his hat-trick with less than thirty minutes remaining, it looked as if Chromatika would lose the match. However, the beleaguered Xuen-Zhukov - not having scored a goal in the last four matches in the Proper - came through in the clutch, scoring on a breakaway to draw within one, and then the equalizer in the eighty-eighth off of a Baillaire Fillar corner. As hard as Chromatika pressed for the rest of the match, Valanora held, and Chromatika had secured itself its second point of this World Cup Proper.

Roster Selection for World Cup Proper Matchday 3
Starting XI: Fillar, J. (C); Coulibaly - Jackson-Jones - Nodis; Fillar, G. - Larriet-Cortes - Fillar, B. - Fillar, E.; Prenn; Xuen-Zhukov - Howard-Dawes.
Reserves: GK Hailee Sourtois, GK Jill Swanson, DCR Paisley Paterson, DC Rowan Harry, DCL Uemura Saburo, DC Claudia Lethbridge-Antonio, WBR Ibayashi Haitou, WBL Nemes Mátyás, DLP Alija Mesic-Mizayaki, CDM Jayla Lethbridge-Antonio, AP Evin Françine-Miklavivec, AM Þyrill Bjarnhéðinsson, AF Marietta Fucheux, AF Adélaïde Bittencourt, AF Kaytlyn Jean-Baptiste.
Preview: The Anomalies move on to Kytler Bay to take on group-leading Siovanija & Teusland - the only team in the group to have won a game so far. The Goldhorns also tied against Auprussia in Matchday 2, leaving the group wide open; this leaves both teams needing a result to advance (unless, for some reason, three points sees the Anomalies through despite having a Goal Difference of zero based on three draws, which is highly unlikely). It's the first time the two have faced each other in what seems like ages - and the roles have been reversed, with the Goldhorns now being the favorites, having proven their mettle by beating the Vanorians earlier in the Group Stage Proper. This could end up being the final start for one Juxon Fillar, who's had a rough go at the World Cup Proper as of late, conceding fifteen goals in the last five matches. The Anomalies will be hoping that Lavrentiy's return to form will carry through in this matchup, while praying for the eldest Fillar and the defense to hold up enough to get that coveted win, along with a ticket to the Round of Thirty-Two. They've broken the cycle of not being able to score at a World Cup Proper. They've broken the cycle of not scoring a single point at the World Cup Proper. Now, they have the opportunity to break the cycles of not being able to win and not being able to advance. Is that what is in the cards?

The Holdouts, Part 1

In the foothills of Mt. Níar, Mountain District, were some mines that had been left to the elements since the days of the Chromatik Party. Part of the job of the Rainbow Revolution was to determine which of the mines were sustainable and which others should be left alone for the sake of conserving the environment; more than a dozen such shafts were abandoned and their entrances sealed to ensure that Chromatika would be able to mine sustainably for many generations to come without compromising the environment.

Sergeant Michel Drake of the Chromia Police Department, assigned to the nationwide force that were determined to continue to eradicate the hidden parts of the shadow syndicate known as the Shadow Hand, sighed into the frozen cold as he made his way to an entrance that was supposed to be closed off. He had been sent here just to recon, having received orders from Headquarters all the way back in Chromia that there may be a squatter or two in these shafts of the ilk that had caused so much trouble for Chromatika in the last two years. He was here with his backup, Joseph Drevin - and the two of them were to just see if there was anyone, then radio it in.

"You sure anyone would be in one of these places in the dead of winter, Sarge?" inquired Drevin, a half dozen steps behind him, "Nobody in their right mind would be underground with no heating when it's below freezing every day."

"Only the truly desperate would do that, Drevin," Michel responded, "Besides, we're just here to look for signs of life, and radio it in if we see it. No heroics or going forward, all right?"

Drevin lifted a hand in acknowledgement and nodded. Getting Drevin as a newbie fresh off of the academy had been a true blessing in disguise for Drake three years ago - and by now, they were a well-oiled machine of a pair. As they drew nearer to the entrance - about a hundred yards out - though, it was obvious that something was unusual. The metal grating that was placed in front of all the entrances was absent - instead, there was a circular metal door covering the whole thing, and what looked like an automated defense system in front of it. It looked like a military-grade turret, something that Drake had only seen once or twice while consulting with the Chromatik Army. There was the standard rotating cylinder with a machine gun mounted on it, along with cameras all around it. Apparently, it didn't act unless you went within a certain range, and the two of them hadn't triggered it so far.

"Is that what I think it is?" asked Drevin incredulously, "Didn't you tell me that you were shown one of these before, Sarge?"

"Keep your head down!" Michel exclaimed, before answering, "Yes, that's one of those military grade turrets, and we're lucky it's not programmed at long range, or we'd be goners by now."

Michel reached into his pocket for his radio, and tried to turn it on - just to hear static. He tried a number of other channels around the standard channel, but all he heard was static.

"Something is jamming us," Michel explained, "We're on our own,"

"What do we do?" Drevin asked, shocked, "Do we have any idea how strong the jammer is?"

That was when a voice cut through from the direction of the mine.

"We see you out there," a sinister, feminine voice said, "Why don't you come out with your hands where we can see them and we won't blow you to pieces."

"If you do that, you'll be in so much trouble," Michel shouted back, "Do you want that?"

"I don't want that. I also don't want to kill you. So why don't you come out and we'll have a civilized chat?" the voice responded back.

They really didn't have a choice at this point. If the turret had eyes on them, there was no hiding from it - and the area that they were in had very low foot traffic, being well off of the beaten trail.

Nodding at Drevin to follow, Michel emerged. The two of them placed their sidearms on the ground before lifting their hands up.

"All right, we're unarmed," Michel said, "Let's talk."

As if in response, the circular door leading into the mine swung open.

"Step in, and no funny business," the voice quipped. The two of them approached the door - noting the still watchful turret - and stepped inside, not knowing what awaited them.

[StrayaRoos]

One match remains, and the Emus’ destiny is in their own hands. Though they’re undeniably in a bad position after their loss to Eastfield Lodge in a 10-goal epic. The start of the match had a relatively normal start, with both sides not really starting the chaos until the 12th minute, when Fidelina Noble put a goal past Amina Seÿma to make it 1-0 to Eastfield Lodge. Then she added a second from a corner 8 minutes later, assisted by Boet Caceres. The Emus struck back in the 38th minute, as Ella Vidya scored from a free kick just outside the box. An equaliser was added in stoppage time, from the usual Roosian strategy of having the wingbacks and wingers play as four wingers in the attack, and that worked as Urszula Chinwe sent a cross flying into Cruz Kaiplo’s path, and he headed it into the goal.

2-2 at halftime was keeping the Round of 32 dream very much alive. But the Emus coming out of the sheds were there to win against a top 25 side, repeating what they’d done to TJUN-ia in the qualifiers. It started with the Emus scoring a third thanks to Cruz Kaiplo scoring his second from a corner by Ella Vidya in the 49th minute, and they held on with a 3-2 lead until the hour mark, when Eastfield Lodge got an equaliser when Paisley Lysander scored to cap off a team play. 3-3, with 30 minutes to go.

The final 30 minutes is what you get when two teams are solely playing attacking football without a regard for Defense. Corners, clearances and shots was the cycle the game seemed to be going in. Eastfield Lodge was a lot more successful in that regard, as Fidelina Noble completed a hat-trick in the 64th minute, making it 4-3, and Monique Fredrich
made it 5 for Eastfield Lodge in the 75th minute as a result of a poor clearance by Kai Kuyta. The Emus scored a 4th in the 82nd minute as Zane Shalik scored a penalty, but Eastfieldian substitute Chappell Holdsworth scored a sixth goal in the dying moments, making it 6-4.

Now the Emus have a somewhat difficult road to the final 32. They need to beat Gnejs, ideally by two goals or more, and hope another team screws up. Which isn’t that improbable, but it’s still not an absolute certainty. And because of the seeding method utilised, they’d almost certainly have to face a group winner unless Tikariot vs Eastfield Lodge ends up being a bashing in favour of one team, and the Emus beat Gnejs. So the situation isn’t ideal, but somewhat workable.

[The Kytler Peninsulae]

The cynics would say this was only appropriate for the location: Roddens City have become an awful lot weaker of late since moving to this new stadium, the mere idea of a bottom-half finish in the NSL being anathema to the club until it actually somehow happened. But it really wasn't appropriate in how it happened; the fall of the Reds of Roddens was led by a crushing void at both full-back positions, and those were arguably the strengths of the team as they held Audioslavia to a 0-0 draw that effectively clinched their passage to the knockout stages whilst giving their opponents an obvious win-and-in situation of their own against an Abanhfleft side that unexpectedly beat West Barack and East Obama in Bay City earlier in the day. If any given World Cup result can ever be considered "unexpected" in this era, where upsets are so plentiful that it's almost more of an upset when the higher-ranked team wins.

Having come from behind to secure such an "upset" in arguably a too-frenzied Reopening Day atmosphere in the tournament-opening clash with Abanhfleft, the Kytlerians set about calming things down for their trip to the northwest. By all accounts, manager Andrew Patterson placed further emphasis on control in the team talk, and there were notably four changes from that starting XI: two were perhaps expected, the Bay City United duo of Dings Mocks and Petúr Ingólfsson replacing Joanne Walgrave and Joke Feltkamp from the start after changing the game when doing so off the bench six days earlier, but the others were a real surprise. Jón Svensson, the youngest member of the squad, came in for Shrifflu Mocks after the latter picked up a minor injury in training, with Teun Donk moving inside to centre-back. And Park Si-Woo, only a substitute at his home ground in the opener, got an unexpected start over Xavier LaMotta at the ground where the latter memorably lifted the NSL trophy for Edencliff in front of an invasion of their own fans after the aforementioned Roddens implosion led their fans - who didn't want to be there - to sell their tickets en masse to those who extremely did. If the idea was control, Park doesn't exactly provide that; if the idea was to seek inspiration to grab an early goal to sit on, he could spark that.

Many words could be written about what unfolded, diving into the tactical nuances of this gentle ebb and flow, of how the Kytlerians focused on keeping possession and having their attacking players shift between positions to try and find space. But there was no space, and there was frankly little entertainment for those not of the old "System Karela" persuasion. The combination of the young Svensson on one flank and the excellent Borgþór Daðason on the other - the two Icelanders, the latter of course famously a Græntfjall youth international who gained Kytlerian citizenship only when Græntfjaller citizenship ceased to be a meaningful thing, freezing out any Bulls that tried to go on parade and embark in one of their trademark counter-attacking raids. The fact both of these teams are long on stamina and short on size meant they were able to cancel each other out in many ways; even the introduction of the blazing speed of Rick Flash off the bench in the second half didn't change the equation. By the end, the "post-football" distinction that has been applied to the Bulls had become a fitting insult to the state of the match, especially as the referee seemed nervous to fire out the yellow cards the visitors could have warranted - almost as if he was so conscious of the fear of bias towards the home side that he potentially overcorrected. Not that there was much crowd noise to sway him by the end of this one; even the calls for free kicks and bookings grew softer as the soporific "action" went by. The northern peninsula may have a reputation for sleepiness that extends to their sport by way of their love of cricket, but this was another level.

So, like quite a few of the red-ball cricket matches popular in this part of the country, it ended in a tame draw. Not the worst result for either side, but on this evidence, Abanhfleft are one goal away from locking in a knockout berth and giving the Bulls the signoff line of the late Jeremy Jaffacake as they do so. There's nothing like a great Audioslavia team when it comes to being a truly infuriating opponent, but this is nothing like a great Audioslavia team. West Barack and East Obama have seemingly been spending the last couple of years working out in real time if they want to join Ko-oren as the keepers of that particular flame, but after beating Audioslavia at their own game by the inevitable score of 1-0 on the opening day before that loss to Abanhfleft, there's every likelihood that they do bring that approach to the ZOS for the group finale. A draw suits both teams; it ensures the Kytlerians advance (and as group winners unless Abanhfleft win in Roddens), and it puts the Obamen in a position (four points, neutral GD, the number of goals don't matter here) where the question isn't whether they'll be in the knockout bracket, but where they'll be in it and how many rounds of rock-paper-scissors they'll have to play over an intentionally-laggy video connection before they find out.

As the final mind-numbing minutes of this match went by (and the clock ticked towards 11pm, at that - although who, even in the sleepiest and most traditional Northern Downs villages, owns any clocks that tick these days?), anti-RPD campaign groups fired out angry social media salvos, pretty much the only thing they're actually good at doing. They ranted about how this wasn't worth selling the national soul for or some such claptrap - but even ignoring the not-inconsiderable point that international sport is (again) a huge part of the Kytlerian "national soul" to begin with despite the best efforts of the puritan Andersonians for generations plural, their usual rants are around RPDs being a dangerous, powerful menace. And what in the name of Margaret was dangerous or powerful about this?

[Kelssek]

Kelssek grabbed goals before and after half time to put themselves in control of a crucial World Cup match against HUElavia. Something of the feature fixture ending off the ninth day of the tournament, under the lights in Cobden, it was a match that started in a cagey manner, with both sides knowing a loss would be as good as elimination.

Ella Bastien opened the scoring with a volley from the corner of the penalty box following a poorly-cleared corner. In a first half lacking moments of any real menace, the corner itself had come from an unconvincing foray down the right wing by Chike Obident, whose typical pace was instead a bit of a ball-carrying sludge before a crossing attempt was blocked out of play. His out-swinging corner was well struck, however, and in the chaos the HUElavia defenders simply failed to get any purchase on it.

After feeling the sting of criticism for his performance against Elymia, Lionel an Deòir will likely take even more satisfaction with the clinical finish he put onto a counter-attack as HUElavia sought to pressure Kelssek hard right out of the gate in the second half, but saw a blocked shot fall kindly for Titan Pogbacar, who found an Deòir with a pinpoint 40-yard pass.

Head coach Obey Chidiebere will hope this helps the team puts a shocker of an opening match loss behind them.

“I think this match was more like the result we deserved. We had a lot of time to stew over that loss and the team were determined to set things right. In a way it didn't change much, we had always noted this as a match we really had to show up for. So the players can be proud of the effort and the commitment they put in."

KELSSEK 2 Bastien (41’), an Deòir (49’)
Maraipu, Bastien, Lalande, Vergland, Usher (Durocher 83’), Pépin, Pogbacar, Lìos (Licea 73’), Obident (Mao 62’), Heer (Moore 83’), an Deòir (Cutter 73’)
HUELAVIA 1 Uchee (81’)
CBDN Bowl, Cobden (attn. 41,187)

Just how had Joren ended up flying an angry squad of armed men to some tech billionaire’s farmland bunker again? There was no time for weight and balance calculations, but a very polite, “would you do me a favour and move to the back so the plane won’t nosedive?” had done much for flight safety. That said, there were other risks on the horizon – on the western horizon, to be exact. Joren had not thought about the squall line forecast to come through around sunset, since he expected to have been all done with the job and at home by then. But now there was a line of dark clouds creeping closer.

Joren really hoped he wouldn’t have to tell these passengers there was a weather delay. It was bad enough for airline staff, and that was in a situation where the customers were carefully checked for weapons instead of openly brandishing machetes and submachine guns.

As they approached the landing strip, they could see the biker contingent had already arrived and had taken up positions around a cinder-block building, while a team of three were in the process of beating the door down.

[Audioslavia]

Carrying the One

Parts [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8]
[9][10][11]
[12][13][14][15][16][17][18][19][20]

---

A few thousand years ago, Audioslavia had a disastrous fourteen minute experiment with a monarchy. Regardless of how meaningless those fourteen minutes were, the very fact that there was a monarchy at all means two things are true forever. First, there will forever be a lineage of descendants of the usurped monarch. Secondly, it will always occur to at least one person in the world that, hey, maybe there should be a king after all, and while there is a person with a claim to said kinghood, there will always be a Restoration movement, no matter how small or disorganised.

In Audioslavia’s case, there’s also a counter-restoration movement, which aims to brutally murder anyone on Audioslavian soil should they hold the title of first in line to the throne

---

Over the next few months, Fraser tried to put the events of that afternoon out of his mind. He wanted to be done with politics. I mean, he'd caused a major diplomatic incident between two region mates and all he'd wanted to do was go shopping on his own for some nice relish and a bit of cheese. Imagine what would happen if he actually got involved.

The nebulous yolk of 'Bostopia' had largely left him alone throughout the intervening time. Whether this was through magnanimity or simply having second thoughts about his usefulness as an asset in the capital, he didn't know. Winstanley's visits had certainly become less frequent as a result, which was at least something to be thankful for.

News of Jeremy Jaffacake's passing had taken a couple of days to come through. First through rumours on X that he'd been assassinated in Bostopia, before the 'truth' came out that he'd been hunting for truffles near a military firing range when he was hit by a stray, who had then shot him before being taken away by a vet. Audioslavians, stingy with the truth at the best of times, hadn't bought it, but they had also balked at the idea that he'd for some reason been assassinated via a Bostopian sniper rifle. Rumours drifted throughout Boofer that he'd gotten too close to a drug kingpin, or that he'd chosen the 'funny' way of showing someone how his antique blunderbus totally wasn't loaded, or that he'd been assassinated by Krytenian secret agents for crimes against fashion, or that maybe, and this was his favourite, that his head just 'did' that.

What passed for a period of mourning was also odd. Jaffacake was neither hated nor loved, he was just inevitable. Like finding a penny in a sofa, only it was always the same penny, the only difference being that it had slightly depreciated in value with every appearance. People cried, people laughed, people made jokes, people pulled up old clips of him on YouTube and added a comment about how 'he was a douche but he was our douche' or 'I reckon the illuminati got him' or 'he signed my bum once' or 'you just can't do that any more because of woke' or 'this one cool trick has confused scientists, see how I gained seven concubines in only two weeks'.

The hurricane of news had apparently dissuaded The Union from going to Bostopia and trying their hand at assassinating Fraser on the small patch of official Audioslavian territory he occupied. The Union were well organised, but mainly concerning Audioslavian docks and airports, and the places a prospective king may run to or from. The idea of going to Bostopia seemed less appealing given the rumour about what had happened to Jaffacake. It wasn't entirely outwith the realms of possibility that they could hatch a plan to 'get' Fraser at the 'embassy', but the risk apparently outweighed the reward. Nevertheless, he'd heard rumours that The Union were getting increasingly uneasy about the idea that there was, indeed, an Audioslavian First-In-Line who was living happily on Audioslavian soil, never mind the fact that it had only been Audioslavian soil for a few months. On the other hand, there were also rumours of internal strife in The Union. Wording of their oath made reference to 'the island' (as Audioslavia had been when it had been written), which rather put another asterisk on the legality of going to the Audioslavian embassy in Bostopia and having a crack at a head-shot.

Fraser's thoughts turned to Tania. They had spoken a couple of times over the last few months, but the interview she'd given to 'Now Then' magazine had soured the relationship somewhat. She had no plans to visit him in Bostopia in the near future, and at this time was due to give birth to her second child at a hospital near her home in Cathair. This time, there were to be no doubts. She'd done the Ultrasound. It was to be another girl.

"Don't go trying again" Craig had said, over the phone. Fraser doubted he'd have the chance.

The embassy ran itself. His 'assistant', the old ambassador, had largely continued his old job, albeit while grumbling about the change in scenery and the cut in pay, which was fair enough. Fraser, in short, was at a loose end. It had given him time to think.

All this time, he'd found himself buffeted by the breeze, turning this way and that at the behest of others. He'd had no agency. Jaffacake had called him a straight man. A vehicle for exposition. He'd been right. All Fraser had done these last few years was reflect and echo the wills of others. That had to change. After all, he was a King, wasn't he? He needed to be the one making decisions. These last two years, he'd made almost none.

Fraser asked himself. What was it he wanted? Not 'what do I think I could get' or 'what could reasonably be expected of me', what did he want?

He wanted The Union to be gone. Okay. Too long term. Not solvable in his lifetime.
He wanted to have a wee. Okay. That's too short term.
He wanted things to not have happened. Okay. That's not even possible. But it's fine. Keep going. We'll get somewhere.

He wanted... no. Surely not. That's not what he would have wanted ten years ago, or even six months ago. But it was the answer that his brain presented him with. This thing. Go get it.

He was a King. A King needs an army. An army to get him what he wanted.

He wanted to actually, properly, be King of Audioslavia.

---

It's Allh Abhout Abhanfleft
Spirited tie with hosts puts all the marbles on final game

On the face of it, things are dire. Rock bottom of the group, two points adrift of second, without even a goal or a win to their name, this looked to be one of the worst performances in Audioslavian World Cup history. If this had been any World Cup from editions 1 to 96, they'd have already booked a flight home, with the chances of both winning and overturning a H2H and GD deficit West Barack and East Obama looking slim enough to justify the gamble on cheaper air-fares.

This, however, is the 48-team era. Of the twelve teams who finish third, the best eight performances go through. A win would put the Bulls into third place on four points, and the chances of not progressing to the knockouts on four points are slim. Goal-less, winless Audioslavia are therefore, thanks to the new system, on the cusp of making the knockout rounds. All they need to do is beat Abanhfleft.

Older readers may be reminded the playoffs for World Cup 80. Audioslavia had gone to Abanhfleft in the first leg and won, and just needed any kind of result in the second leg to guarantee progression to the finals. The Bulls had bottled it. In front of their own fans, they were downed by three goals to two and eliminated on Away Goals, failing in an attempt to qualify for the World Cup for the first time in eighteen cycles. Audioslavia 2-3 Abanhfleft had been the start of the new era of World Cup football: One with the Bulls on the periphery. Cycles 88 and 89, where the national team had reached the semi-finals twice in a row, was the outlier. The side had, since World Cup 80, either disappointed in the first round, been papped out immediately in the second or, in more recent history, failed to qualify at all. Good form in the Cup of Harmony, including the title in cycle 93, had dampened the blow somewhat, but it was just another sign that Audioslavia aren't a team you would ever bet on for the World Cup if you had your wits about you. This wasn't cycle 7 or 14 or 27 or 64 or 76, it was the current day. Audioslavia aren't good at football any more. Case in point: We're feeling positive about a 0-0 tie with Kytler Peninsulae.

To continue reading, you'll need to subscribe. Go on. Do it. Oh, you don't have the money? That's because you have too many subscriptions. Do you really need to play that shooting game against those teenagers who partner three-sixty no-scopes with aspersions about your mother like a chef partnering a Pacitalian cheese with a Starblaydi wine? Do you need two subscriptions to streaming television services that you don't watch? Do you really need to watch videos without adverts? They just spend a quarter of the run-time selling you shirts you supposedly can't sweat through anyway. Do you need to give money to that guy on Patreon? You get his videos like, two days early, and three quarters of the content is a really rubbish podcast where, again, they try to sell those stupid shirts. Cancel them. Join us. We have upwards of three articles about things you care about every fortnight, and all for the low low price of $4.99.

[Katzeburg]

The History of the Nervous Kitten, Chapter 10 - Ongoing Questions

If you were to sit down in the grand central room of the Nervous Kitten today on a cold Tuesday evening, you’d probably notice a distinct lack of entertainment on offer. Tuesdays at the Nervous Kitten are normally for quiet chatter amongst patrons and friends; you come in, order a cool pint of Harmouth, and sit down and talk about the events of the day. Nothing more, nothing less. Of course, this didn’t always happen to be the case. In fact, in the decade leading up to the Katzeburgian Revolution, Tuesday nights at the Nervous Kitten were by far and away the busiest night at the venue, all thanks to the brainchild of one patron hoping to liven up the place a little. Andrew Wolfhardt was a clever man; a professor of history at Katzestadt University, he frequently visited the Nervous Kitten to discuss at length the grand history of the pub and the cultural delicacies on offer in the capital city.

However, there was one thing the man loved more than a pint of Harmouth and a well-worn copy of Feudal Katzeburgian Poems and Notes On the Many Tragic Deaths of Said Poets, and that was trivia. Wolfhardt loved a good quiz, and as he sat in a booth at the Nervous Kitten one evening, he came up with an idea. An idea which like many before it, would shape the history of the great venue. Wolfhardt enquired to Landlord John as to why the pub had not previously run trivia - a great way to bring people in, sell some more drinks, and have a bit of fun along the way. After a shrug of indifference, Wolfhardt went about it himself to organise the event. It was a resounding success - week after week, the place would be packed to the brim with eager quizzers hoping to claim glory and a share of the 100 barin (About 2900 barins today - a lot of beers!) bar tab which was offered up as a prize to the winning team.

The professor led on all aspects of the event, from writing questions ranging from Katzeburgian history, to arts, cuisine, and the latest news stories breaking out across Esportiva and beyond. Over the four years which quizzes ran at the venue, there was always a clear and outright winner. Normally, this would be either the team of professors from Katzestadt University which would come in and sit at the best table and look down at all the other contenders from their position of privilege (while dodging allegations for years that Wolfhardt fed the team answers in advance to ensure the University would always win), or it was on rare occasions a team of bankers from the nearby financial district who would come in to blow off steam after a hard day’s work strangling the nation’s poor.

But on one fateful evening, the evening this tale takes place, patrons were thrilled to see a fierce three-way battle for the title heading into the final round of questions. Both the Katzestadt University team and the Bankers were at the top, with the University team a single point ahead of the Bankers. But there was another team also in the mix - not regulars, this group was a mix of friends who had wandered in off the street and decided to have a swing at the quiz just for fun. With their team name of This is not a drill, please leave the pub now, they had managed to climb up the ladder over the course of the evening as more and more teams left due to the red herring nickname of the quizzers.

This team was sitting level with the University team heading into the final round, with many patrons who were still watching on amazed they had been able to keep in the mix, especially as no-one normally was able to compete across the whole evening with the Uni team. So when the final round came and went, there was a loud cheer when it was revealed that, for the first time in a long, long time - the University team had not won the evening. Yet. For it turns out they had ended level on points with This is not a drill, please leave the pub now, a first in the history of Wolfhardt’s time running the quiz. It’s at this point I should inform you dear reader of a rather niche and as of this date, unrepealed Katzeburgian law, one which Professor Wolfhardt himself had no awareness of at the time of this debacle. The Katzeburg Pub Quiz Act, established some three hundred years before this event took place, has mostly been forgotten to time itself - except for one crucial part of the statute, clause 13.1:

13.1 - Should such good fortune result in equality between two or more contending teams, such equality shall be resolved through a contest. Such an event will only conclude upon the revelation of a solitary victor. Only when their adversaries fail in their response and they themselves deliver a correct answer shall a team be deemed triumphant in this contest of minds.

Professor Wolfhardt had no knowledge of this tiny clause in a deep, deep document detailing the ins and outs of Katzeburgian pub quizzes, but one of the members of This is not a drill, please leave the pub now - a young constable of the Katzestadt Police Department - did, telling the professor that he would be in breach of the law (with a penalty of death imposed upon hosts who flout this very odd law) should he declare the event a tie.

And so it went on to sudden death. Bouncing between both teams, Wolfhardt would start off with some rather simple questions in a hope to try and trip up either team and end the evening. But questions such as who was the previous ruler before our current King, King George the Forgetful (Answer- King Thomas the Quite-Nice, Except to Foreigners) and what was the first form of Katzeburgian currency accepted across all regions of the nation (Answer- Buckets of Wheat) went by uneventfully. This led to Professor Wolfhardt turning to more and more difficult questions, with the running total stretching past 30 tie-breaking questions per team before either side got one wrong. To the delight of the crowd, it was the University team who slipped up - not knowing the figure behind the Great Riot of Jotenham some 400 years before (Answer- Andreas the Fishmonger, who started the riot by tripping over and setting fire to the town’s only pub).

With a chance to win and steal the glory, Wolfhardt threw the challengers a harsh question, asking him what was the name of his own dissertation which led to his appointment at Katzestadt University. Unfortunately for team This is not a drill, please leave the pub now, they missed the mark, getting the subtitle right (Lessons from centuries of fishing on the isle of Dragoonspiel), but failing to get the correct headline title (Anchors Ahoy! Rather than Anchors Away!). With groans from the crowd, the evening continued. More and more questions were asked at length, with both sides failing to find a winning way through. The traditional quiz finishing time of 10pm was long in the past as the quiz stretched onwards and onwards, going past 4am with neither side willing to concede. One hour was particularly grating for those remaining to watch the contest, as Wolfhardt went back and forth asking teams “What number am I thinking of?” only to get wrong answers each time, Wolfhardt himself not thinking to put his thumb on the scale and simply lie to end the charade.

As the sun began to rise in Katzestadt the morning after the quiz, both teams were exhausted, but still going for the prize, as the rather stringent law put in place started to feel a bit ridiculous in hindsight. Word had spread of the deadlock at the pub, so when John the Landlord opened up the next morning to the public, he was greeted by a wave of reporters and deadbeats keen to come in and have a gander at the insanity before them. But finally, mercifully, the end would come. After 17 straight hours of tie-breaking questions, and more than 450 questions answered between each team, there would be a winner. To the joy of many of the patrons who had stayed to watch the whole thing, it would be the upset - team This is not a drill, please leave the pub now had won the day, answering their question about which nation won the most recent World Cup with ease, while the University team had rather ironically, stumbled on their question - which was how to spell Professor Wolfhardt’s surname.

Celebrations ensued as for the first (and final, as quizzes at the Nervous Kitten were banned shortly after this to avoid a repeat happening again) time, a team who weren’t bankers or University professors had lifted the valued 100 barin bar tab. The Katzeburg Pub Quiz Act remains in effect to this day, with many venues which run a quiz opting to rig it in some manner to ensure a tie never happens again.

---

Katzeburg 2 - 2 Farfadillis
Field 51’, Wruck 90+3’ // Robineau 5’, Pidi 72’

Possession - 51% // 49%
Shots on Target - 9 // 7
Shots - 10 // 15
Fouls - 13 // 17

1 Whinery, 2 Howland, 3 Knepp, 4 Clarkson (Herman 65’), 5 Colbert, 6 Plank, 7 Spears, 8 Horsfall (Lynton 65’), 9 Arkwright, 10 Wruck, 11 Field (Marsh 65’)

Player of the Match - Wruck (KAT)

Late Wruck equalizer secures Katzeburg’s first World Cup point

A dramatic stoppage time goal from Katzeburg’s Drake Wruck has kept the side in contention for a knockout spot at the World Cup in the Xandrian Sea - as well as securing the nation their first ever World Cup point.

The clash at The Meridian in Jiangdong, Yuezhou was one many bookmakers thought the world number four side would win with ease, and early bets proved favourable towards that outcome - Farfadillis taking the lead after just five minutes through striker Dénes Robineau, who nodded a powerful cross from left winger Jôs Sürréo past keeper Ry Whinery with relative ease - capping off a smart counter-attack which left the Katzeburgian defence of Faithe Colbert and Deena Knepp napping down the left flank. But despite the difference in odds and ranking between the two sides, Katzeburg took it to the former World Champions with a fighting spirit, controlling large portions of play in the opening half but finding themselves unable to break down the backline of Tôsgo Türrângel and Eloriján Mopiraja and create any meaningful chances. The side’s best break of the opening 45 came in the 39th minute after a quick break down the left flank from Serena Plank found striker Lloyd Field with space from distance - Field would fire a rocket shot off goalwards and beat keeper Básilió Fórténté, but was unable to beat the crossbar - ricocheting off it and going out of play.

The game would burst into life in the second half, as Katzeburg continued to fight despite being a goal down, and finally the side’s persistence would be rewarded six minutes into the second period, with Field finally managing to get a head onto a cross in from Meriel Arkwright. Field fired left, Fórténté dove low, and the ball ended up slipping above the diving keeper to level the scores. Emboldened by the equalizer, Katzeburg would look to push more aggressively in search of a potential winner, and the side came dangerously close to pulling ahead in the 68th minute after Drake Wruck found himself twisting through the Farfadillis defence with the ball to push himself into a 1-on-1 with Fórténté - only for the Katzestadt Rovers striker to scuff his effort and send the ball wide of the right post.

But it would be Katzeburg’s push for a winner which would come to haunt them, as Farfadillis would take advantage of the growing space in the Katzeburgian backfield to launch a deadly counter - with Sürréo launching down the left wing after scooping the ball up and away from Colbert. Sürréo curled a ball delicately into the box towards the head of Robineau, but the forward was unable to reach the effort. Thankfully for La Vherderoja supporters, Valën Pídí was able to, following up behind the effort to volley the dropping cross first time and smash the ball into the back of the net to restore the lead for Farfadillis.

Now on the back foot again, the Blue Cats retreated and looked to play a bit more on the counter to avoid going a third and potentially fatal goal down. And it would be this move from Haberkorn which would see the Blue Cats soak up pressure for the final moments of the game before paying off in a dramatic manner in the third and final minute of stoppage time. As Farfadillis continued plying pressure as they sought to run out the clock, Katzeburg would win the ball back through Katharine Howland in the left corner of the park. Howland would whip the ball cross-field to Arkwright, with the Inverhaven City midfielder turning on a dime and sending the ball into wide open space behind the high Farfadillis backline.

Wruck would be on hand to break past the backline and scoop up the ball, pushing him again into a 1-on-1 with Fórténté, but it would be the Katzeburgian who won this round, sliding just out of reach of the diving Farf and tapping the ball into a now empty net. Pandemonium would break out across the nation of Katzeburg in response to the stunning leveller, with numerous pubs reporting minor floods of beer in the aftermath of the goal, as fans across the nation leapt to their feet in celebration. Too late to find a winner, the whistle blew on what is now a historic match for the Katzeburgian national team, the first ever point in World Cup competition. The result does leave it all to play for in Katzeburg’s final game, heading to Atlem to take on fellow Group 5 qualifier Huayramarca, with the world number 21 yet to pick up a point this campaign following a matchday 1 defeat to Farfadillis and a 5-3 loss to Crpostran. Katzeburg have a big ask ahead of them, as the side was unable to get anything from Los Cóndores in their two clashes during World Cup qualifying - falling 1-0 away in Huayramarca, and losing 2-1 in front of a home crowd in Katzestadt.

A win for either side will secure a third place finish in Group J and a potential shot at the knockouts. But if Katzeburg can pick up a win and group leaders Crpostran see out their winning start to the World Cup with victory over Farfadillis, the Blue Cats could potentially sneak into second place in the group with a victory. On the other hand, a defeat for the Blue Cats would guarantee the end of their debut World Cup campaign and a last-place finish in the group. Manager Becka Haberkorn was bullish about her side’s chances to progress.

“I think it’s fair to say no-one was really expecting us to get anything against Farfadillis,” Haberkorn said.

“So to leave The Meridian with a point to our name - a historic point - is a fabulous achievement and the entire team can be proud about how they played out there this evening. They showed a spirit where they refused to give up, no matter the odds and that’s something we are going to need going into our last game of the group.

“Huayramarca are a very good team and one which we really struggled to break down during the qualifying cycle and now needing a result against them to have a chance at moving on, we need to be on top form to get anything from a quality side. But we showed the world we could do it against a side like Farfadillis; we can do it again.”

[Crpostran]

---

---

An interesting tweet found on Crpostranian social media--

[West Barack and East Obama]

My fellow Obamen,

We find ourselves in a moment of crisis. A moment that requires reflection, resilience, and—above all—a commitment to the values that define us. The West Barack and East Obama National Football Team is, as it stands, in a de facto state of emergency. One win in the last six games. The prospect of finishing third in the group and drawing a top team—or worse, facing outright elimination—looms large. Given our strong start and our standing in the football world, this situation is, let me be clear, simply unacceptable. No, my friends, we are not, as the kids might say, "so back." We've already fallen to complacency against Abanhfleft, and we cannot allow that to happen again.

Now, I know what you're thinking: "Mr. President, this feels hopeless." After all, we're playing a strong host side in the Kytler Peninsulae—a team gunning for first place. Meanwhile, Abanhfleft and Audioslavia will fighting tooth and nail for qualification. Our defence is struggling. The creative spark acquired during that mission in Lozhoan disguises has been totally lost by our midfielders. And our forwards? They've struggled to do literally anything except sit in the box and wait for crosses that aren't coming. In short, as some might put it, we are pretty fucked. But here's the thing: we perform the best when we're fucked.

Time and again, this team—this nation—has proven that when the stakes are highest, when the odds are steepest, we "lock the fuck in" as kids say these days. Let's go all the way back to the 95th World Cup, when we faced a "win or go home" scenario against heavy favourites Kandorith in the playoffs. What did we do? We pulled off a 1-0 upset and qualified for our first-ever World Cup. We then went on to shock Mytanija and host team Chromatika to almost reach the knockout rounds on the first attempt. In the next cycle, we silenced the enemies of the state who called us one-cycle wonders, clutching a playoff berth despite Abanhfleft breathing down our necks during the entire qualification process. And who could forget the last World Cup in Pasarga? After dominating Milchama, we suffered a devastating thrashing to bottom-seeded Sargossa, leaving us dead last in the group. The odds were against us. Yet, in front of their home crowd, we dug deep, defeated Pasarga 1-0, and topped the group in epic clutch fashion. Fuck yeah. It's like sealing a tough game of Valorant in the last minute, but without the part where I type un-presidently words into the chat.

The lesson here is simple: diamonds are forged under pressure. And right when we need it, this team locks in. Every. Single. Time.

Now, I'll admit, when we've been favoured, we've shit the bed. The loss to The Holy Empire in WC95 that cost us the knockouts. The complacency that crept in during the latter part of this cycle. The penalties defeat to a supposedly washed TJUN-ia, oof. Time and again, when we're the favorites, we get ahead of ourselves. But when we're on the back foot, when the haters across the world praying on our downfall count us out? That’s when we show them who we are.

So, to our coaches, I ask this: let's go back to our roots. Well, not ask. I'm ordering. We've experimented with a more attacking style, and sure, it had its moments. We do have a very nice Campionato Esportiva trophy sitting on a shelf in the Oval Office right now. But this match isn’t about style points. It’s about grit. It’s about doing what needs to be done. Yes, it’s ugly. Yes, it’s unpopular. But, let me be clear, it wins games. And nothing—nothing—is more beautiful than winning when everything is on the line.

My friends, never forget who we are. We are not Charmin soft. We are not afraid. We are Obamen—tougher than a Barack Denovitz slide tackle and ready to do what it takes. Win or lose, hold your heads high, play with honour, and remember the countless times we've risen together. Because when we play as one, when we commit to the fight, there’s nothing—nothing—we cannot overcome.

Thank you, my fellow Obamen. It’s the greatest honour of my life to serve as your Eternal President. Now hold onto that hope and show 'em what we're made of.

President Barack Horatio Obama

[Commonwealth of Baker Park]

BP, Busoga meet with World Cup futures on the line
Scott McCrae
The Daily Mail Chief Soccer Writer

The Commonwealth of Baker Park National Team, along with their Group D opponents Yuezhou, Vdara, and the Busoga Islands, find themselves in the dead center of the battle for advancement to the knockout stage in the most litteral sense as all four sides sit tied with 3 points with just the final fixtures to be played--the only one of the 12 WC Finals groups where that situation exists--and as many nations above them in an overall standings table as below.

Twenty three teams have 6, 4, or 3 points while 21 have 0, 1, or 2 and nearly all of them have a theoretical chance to be among the 32 survivors when the dust settles; the previous results and upcoming deciders will put emphasis on the other seven national teams that sit on 3 points, none of them facing an opponent on the same total. Probably no more than three of the eleven will continue their trip to the Xandrian Sea region with only a draw on match day 3.

Baker Park and Yuezhou met for the third time in this cycle on matchday 2 of the Finals, as the hosts evened out the series at a win apiece plus a draw after a 5-3 result at The Meridian in Jiangdong in front of 58,500. All four co-hosts--The Kytler Peninsulae, Tikariot and Qusmo in addition to the Dragons--have work remaining to secure places beyond group play with the possibility all of them could be eliminated or make a clean sweep of advancement.

The Bees will move on to Qanz to face Busoga at Mastad Qusma, which will mark the eleventh all time fixture between the nations dating back to AOCAF 56, where Baker Park won 4-3 in the final group stage match in Equestria in both nations' first ever regional appearance. The Busogans had the better of the series prior to their recent hiatus, with a pair of wins and draws over the five meetings since the World Cup 88 cycle but still trail overall 2-6-2.

Both nations will have to battle the elevation at the Qus'mii National Stadium as the venue sits at over 3000 meters above sea level; Baker Park should benefit from the rotation of the lineup during the stay in Rushmore as seven new starters will make their debut including NT Co-Captain Carly Logan, who will earn her 97th cap while captaining the side.

Lineup vs Busoga MD 3
Albertson; Frost, J. Morris, Finnegan; Douglas, C. Logan (C), D'Alessandro, Bryant; Grayson; McDavid, Hardison
subs: Cotterill, A. Jones, Kucera, McKenzie, O'Connor, Martini, S.Logan, Garfield, Morgan, Howard, Kirby, Coleman, Khan, Riley, London

_______________________________
Media Statement
Ministry of State for Foreign Affairs
Commonwealth of Baker Park

Belle Haven Agreement at 20: Stability and Solidarity in GSW
On this anniversary of the Belle Haven Agreement which brought together the Kingdom of Banija and the Islamic Republic of the Busoga Islands in peace and friendship, Head of State Timothy Wentworth, Prime Minister Rebecca Schoenlien and the Parliament of the Commonwealth extend our warmest regards to both nations for their continued commitment to the principles and spirit of the Agreement that has ensured joint prosperity and security to not only the near neighbors but to the wider Glorious Southwest and Arrosia overall.

In conjunction with the ongoing World Cup Finals being held in Rushmore, the Clerk of the House of Assembly has authorized that Parliament Square shall be decorated with the flags of the Kingdom, the Republic and the Commonwealth in alternating order through the duration of the end of the tournament's group stage of play.
A reception marking the anniversary shall be held at St John's Palace on the evening following the final group stage matchday of the World Cup, open to the entire diplomatic corps based in the Commonwealth.

[HUElavia]

Kelssek 2-1 HUElavia
(Bastien 41’, an Deòir 49’ | Uchee 81')
CBDN Bowl, Cobden, The Kytler Peninsulae

Kel-Sick of these Losses

HUElavia are dominated by Kelssek in a loss to put them in a do-or-die match against Elmyia.

Reeling from the Matchday 1 upset loss, HUElavia returned to World Cup action 6 days after the loss traveling to the other co-host, The Kytler Peninsulae, to play against one of the historic rivals in Kelssek. Prior to this match, HUElavia always had the number in the prior three matches they faced off in official tournament, HUElavia would always eliminate Kelssek. 3-0 at IAC 8 QFs, 2-1 at IAC 9 QFs, and a PSO win at WC 96 Ro16. Up to now, HUElavia were a boogeyman to this great and historic football nation. Now, both teams came into Cobden reeling from their losses, needing a win to stay alive. A draw would not work well for either team, so this was a must-win for both. Both teams came out with their A-Teams going all out in one of the most anticipated matches of this World Cup.

The match was a cagey affair, with both teams not wanting to give the other a chance to open up the scoring, playing cautious, calculating football. Ancel and Maraipu would be tested in attacks, but they'd make saves and blocks to get applause from the crowd. The opening goal came in the 41st minute when a corner was taken by Pépin, where it got cleared out by Pavlona, before Bastien gave a blistering volley past the diving reach of Ancel into the goal, making it 1-0. The Kelsseks in the crowd erupted in joy while Bastien hugged their teammates in celebration to take the lead before the half. HUElavia seemed to be rattled by the goal, as they tried to go more on the offense, but lightning would strike twice. In the 49th minute, a counter-attack saw Pogbacar send a long pass where an Deòir was played onside by Miyamoto, before running unopposed to go one-on-one with Ancel, sending a cool shot past the goalie into the goal, making it 2-0. The Kelsseks erupted in joy once more with an Deòir being hugged and mobbed by their teammates in celebration for the great attack and goal. From there, HUElavia fell into a shell of their former self, not being able to really control the match like they wanted to. Eventually, HUElavia pressured enough for in the 81st minute, a corner taken by Kim went into the box, where Uchee towered over Sauvé to head the ball down past the diving reach of Maraipu into the goal, making it 2-1. Uchee ran to the ball and got it back with pats from his teammates while the HUElavian crowd applauded and began to cheer on the team loudly to motivate them. It would not be enough as Kelssek would play it defensively and hold out to get the victory, giving HUElavia another loss in this World Cup.

Kamijiro defeated Elmiya 2-0 to have 1st place and just about guaranteeing the team a spot to the knockouts. Kelssek sits in 2nd with Elmiya in 3rd while HUElavia sit in 4th without a point. HUElavia's lone option is to win and to hope that they can make up the goal difference if they get a 3rd Place spot as the Best 8 of 12 in 3rd Place. There is a slim chance HUElavia could get 2nd if they can make up the goal differential and Kamijiro defeats Kelssek on Matchday 3. Anything less than a win for HUElavia will send them back to Curumba. Coach Casillas was quoted after the game saying "It was a terrible performance from the team and we have to owe up to it. Kelssek played like the ranking they are and we didn't. We owe the country a better performance and fortunately we still have options coming into the last matchday of the Group Stage. We have to give it our best and go all out for a win against Elmiya. I have some changes in mind for the next matchday, and we still hope to have good support from our fans as we head back to Tikariot." HUElavia are truly on the ropes, cornered Jaguars if you'd like to picture it. Only way to go is up and forward. Here's to hoping for a miracle for this team.

FORCA HUELAVIA! VAMOS HUELAVIA! GO HUELAVIA!

[Mytanija]

Ermin Držić shook hands with Juan Tzimisces and Simeone Di Bradini, and then walked back towards his own coaching staff, smiling broadly. They had done the job, a 2-2 draw against The Holy Empire, going undefeated against seeds 1 and 2 in the group. That was an excellent showing through the first two games by any measure, though Hot-Damn’s pair of wins against the same opposition may slightly shade it. Držić would not dwell on that too much at this point, Mytanija would have an opportunity to top the group in the head-to-head match-up between the two sides. For now, they could be pleased, on paper the two most difficult games in the group stage were out of the way and the Hoops had acquitted themselves well.

Potap Vdovichenko had come of age. A performance from a midfielder who had experienced issues in the past, including high-profile dismissals during World Cup matches, but here he had successfully run the game from midfield. He’d had to be super-disciplined in the match versus the Banijans, but against The Holy Empire he was able to roam forward more often. The security of Nurija Papež behind him and Ante Šaranja alongside him meant he could play higher-up the pitch, closer to Denis Ovsyannikov and able to impact the game in the final third.

The pair worked together well. They had an on-pitch understanding forged through playing for the same domestic side, Mytanija’s biggest club, Atletik. They had won the IFCF Champions League together. Now they were replicating the same level of play for the national team.

Vdovichenko brought the ball into The Holy Empire half of the pitch, before playing a driven pass into the feet of Denis Ovsyannikov. From here, Vdovichenko continued his run, half-hoping that he could just force the opposition defence backwards to create space for Lacina Issoumou and Blaž Kovačec. Ovsyannikov was on the ball, though, and that meant that a hopeful run that was intended simply to create space all of a sudden became a dangerous, incisive run in on goal. Ovsi had turned to face The Holy Empire goal and stroked a pass in between two defenders, perfect to the millimetre, for Potap Vdovichenko to take one touch out of his feet and then a second to lash a shot past Gnomy.

The Holy Empire pulled one back, frustrating, but one of the very best national teams in was always going to be a threat.

Vdovichenko was still the star of the show. Constantly taking the ball from the Mytanar defence and then bringing it forward, controlling the flow of the game and orchestrating things from midfield. Many had called him the new or the next Gavril Atsev and he was demonstrating exactly why those people thought of him in those sorts of terms. Usually, it would be Nurija Papež controlling the match, a player who was known as Direktora (en: The Director), but today it was the younger man who was taking control of proceedings and running the match.

It was the 24-year-old midfielder’s through ball which led to Mytanija’s second goal. Again, Vdovichenko was bringing the ball into The Holy Empire’s half of the pitch, feinting to misdirect an opponent before getting his head up to see where he could inflict the most damage. Blaž Kovačec, perpetual movement personified, was making a dangerous run from outside to in, coming in off the right flank. Vdovichenko didn’t need a second invitation and drove a pass, not dissimilar to the one Ovsi had sent through to him for his goal. It was fizzed through, bouncing once but not running on too far and Kovačec trapped it with the inside of his right boot before taking a second touch with the outside of the right boot to get it out of his feet. The third touch with the right boot swished the ball into the net and Kovačec tore away in celebration.

As the players celebrated together, one after another pointed towards Potap Vdovichenko and congratulated him on his contribution to the goal. The pass was what made the goal, putting Kovačec into an excellent position behind The Holy Empire defence so that he simply had to finish. As a striker that was what he did best and Mytanija found themselves 2-1 up, with a lead once again.

Ermin Držić was annoyed when The Holy Empire got a second equaliser, but as time passed on a little further, he had to accept it was a goal which was of a similar level of quality to the one his team had just scored. Gnorimoschema acrobatically volleyed in a Gnocchi’s delicious cross. The game finished 2-2 and Držić’s frustration ebbed away. The Hoops had gotten a fantastic draw against one of the top teams in world football. They could be pleased with that.

He shook hands with The Holy Empire’s coaching staff, before going onto the pitch to congratulate his players one by one and celebrate with the travelling horde of Mytanija supporters in the stands of Estadio Santa Mordana – the stadium which Bigger Mbala-Ekakia’s partner Anna Korniloff-Kouyate called home. The four points the players had amassed deserved celebration and the fans poured their adulation down onto the pitch. In the same way, Ermin Držić wanted to thank the supporters for the way they had urged them on. They deserved that too.

Hot-Damn might have managed to beat both The Holy Empire and Banija, but Mytanija could enjoy this result and the position that they had put themselves in. The players and the fans would do that. Ermin Držić would too, but he also knew that the equation on matchday three was incredibly simple, when Mytanija played Hot-Damn they had to win if they wanted to top the group; they had to draw if they wanted to maintain their second-place position; and they had to avoid losing to ensure that they would stay in the competition into the knockout rounds.

As easy as that, Držić mused. If only it ever was.

[Sarzonia]

The computer was a frequent companion for Caleb Rush the morning of the Sarzonian national football team's World Cup 98 group stage finale.

Besides the last-minute preparation for the matchup against 11th ranked Tanirinthia and his conference call with his superiors in the Incorporated Football Federation, Rush had one more appointment to keep. And this appointment made Rush far more nervous than talking to his bosses or trying to figure out the somewhat aggressive nature of the Mighty Oaks and their 3-4-3 formation.

Waiting patiently at the other end of the Zoom conference was Dr. Jamie Tolleson. He was a psychiatrist who'd been working for the past 20 years talking to athletes, managers and other folks about various psychological issues. Tolleson had just taken on Rush as a client when Rush finally acted at the behest of his bosses. No one at the IFF would address the matter publicly unless Rush did, but IFF chairman Zack Wilson told Rush of his concerns about the case of imposter syndrome he felt.

"Caleb, no one here is even considering making a change," Wilson said. "You've taken what was originally a B-squad from triple-digit rankings to the top-30 and two consecutive World Cup proper berths. Before that, you got this team a Cup of Harmony trophy and onto the medal stand at two consecutive ARCs. And you still think we're looking to hire someone else?" After the conversation when Rush finally agreed to speak with Tolleson, Wilson turned to associate technical director James Parker and grimaced.

"What's Caleb have to do to get it through his skull that we're pleased with his work?" Wilson asked. "We were penalty kicks away from being in the World Cup with a 'B' team and that team beat Ko-oren in one of the biggest upsets in programme history. I don't know what it's going to take!"

"That's what we're hoping Dr. Tolleson can figure out," Parker said. "I'm no psychologist, but it feels a little bit like imposter syndrome."

"But why would he have it?"

"Again, I'm no psychologist. There's a lot about psychology I don't get. But maybe Dr. Tolleson can diagnose it and help Caleb get to the bottom of it."

Meanwhile, Rush smiled nervously as he saw the image of Dr. Tolleson on the screen.

"Good morning, Dr. Tolleson," Rush said.

"Please, Caleb. Call me Jamie." Tolleson wasn't trying to get buddy-buddy with Rush. That wouldn't be professional. He was trying to make Rush feel more comfortable, and by doing so, hopefully more willing to open up to him about whatever was bothering him enough to seek his guidance. "What's on your mind?"

"I can't place it, but I just don't, you know, feel like I'm that good a football manager even though every evaluation I've had has been great and the team have a great record since I became manager," Rush said. "We won a Cup of Harmony after losing a one-match playoff against Juvencus on penalties. We played in the ARC II final and were a semifinalist in ARC III. We qualified for the proper two straight World Cups. And yet, I still don't feel like I'm good enough."

"Why do you think that is?" Tolleson asked. "Has anyone told you you weren't good enough at something?"

"No," Rush said quickly. Tolleson paused for a moment and looked closely at Rush. Even through a computer video screen, he could tell the wheels of Rush's mind were in motion.

"It doesn't have to be about your talents as a football manager," Tolleson said. "It could be your playing days, your time at uni. Let's go as far back as we can."

"I don't remember much about childhood," Rush said. "Isn't that wrong of me?"

Tolleson shook his head slowly, smiled and said, "no. Sometimes, if we have traumatic experiences in our past, our brain represses memories as a protection mechanism. The problem is, your brain may not remember it, but your body keeps score. What can you tell me about your tenure as national team manager that might have led you to doubt yourself?"

"Well, there was a critical column in The Woodstock Daily Mail that said I was a cheap hire and not someone who could move the needle in getting the team back to prominence," Rush said.

"I remember that article," Tolleson said. "I also remember the same columnist singing a different tune after World Cup 96 qualifying."

"I don't remember that."

"He wrote, 'clearly, I was mistaken about Rush and his ability to lead a football team'," Tolleson said, quoting the mea-culpa written by that columnist. "The shortness of World Cup qualifying might have played a role in the randomness factor, but it's clear this team is on the right track. Rush seems to have hit on something with this team."

After about 30 minutes or so, Rush finally sat up sharply.

"I think I remember now," he said. "My mom Elise. She was always telling me I wasn't good enough. She wanted me to be a doctor like Dad was, and my wanting to get into football was a big disappointment to her."

"Why did she want you to be a doctor?"

"She wanted me to follow in Dad's footsteps, but she said I was "too stupid to read a fucking prescription."

"How did you feel about that?"

"I hate-uh, I resented her. I shouldn't feel like that about my own mother. She did the best she could for me."

"No, there are no wrong feelings," Tolleson said. "I heard you start to say you hated your mother. If that's true, it's okay. And a lot of parents supposedly do the best they can, but they don't make conscious efforts to repair when their children tell them they hurt them. Parents often minimise, dismiss and gaslight their children, yes, their adult children. And what you described is abuse. Your mother abused you, Caleb."

Rush began to grab for a tissue that sat in the box a few centimetres from his right hand. He held the tissue in his had for a moment or two before he dabbed at his eyes.

"Where was your father in all this?"

"They divorced when I was 12," he said. "Dad wanted custody, but he couldn't get away the day of the hearing. They called him into shock trauma for emergency surgery that day and the judge issued a summary judgment in favour of my mother."

"Did your father stay in contact?"

"No," Rush said. "I didn't hear from him until right after I was named national team manager. I found out he tried sending me letters once a month and Mum kept them from me."

"How did that make you feel?"

"I, uh, was angry at Dad for so long. I don't have the right to be angry at Mum."

"Yes, you do. You have every right to feel your feelings, and you have every right to express them."

"But Mum," Rush began before his voice caught. "I, I'm sorry," he said with his voice breaking as he put the now dampened tissue to his eyes.

"It's okay," Tolleson said. "Get it all out." After a couple more minutes, he asked Rush if he'd told his mother.

"Yes," he said. "I sent her a text explaining everything. She left it on read and said I never talk to her."

It was only one session. But in that one session, Tolleson got a lot of insight into Rush and why he felt such a strong sense of imposter syndrome and why he couldn't shake it no matter what he did.

[Alasdair I Frosticus]

Permutations, Juan Tzimisces thought to himself... it was all about permutations...

Finishing in the top two was now highly unlikely following the Mytanija draw. It could be done; but that would require surprise package HOT-DAMN to defeat the Mytanars, and for the gnomes to defeat Banija. It was more likely that the Empire was fighting now for one of the best third-place spots. He read through the guidelines for this confusing 48-team format again...

Finally, the top eight third-place teams will be assigned to seeds 25-32, such that they cannot be in the same quarter of the bracket as any other team from its own group; unless a male Audioslavian virgin with unfeasibly large testicles is weaving haggis wool by the light of the third full moon of the month, in which case the bottom four third-place teams will substitute for the bottom four group winners, except on those occasions where the the third full moon of the month and the vernal equinox in The People’s Democratic Republic of Vdaran Western Territories fall on the same day as the national holiday of El Estado Plurinacional de Huayramarca, in which case both the normal qualifying order and the Audioslavian virgin with unfeasibly large testicles shall be ignored in favour of drawing lots to decide which of the third-placed teams in each group will go through, with said lots to be drawn by an individual appointed by the law firm of Obamafinakis, Obamafinakis & Obamafinakis - unless West Barack and East Obama are one of the third-place teams in question, in which case the lots will be drawn by the first 7-year-old child to enter Dragonscrest Stadium on the final matchday of qualifying.

Tzimisces could have sworn that the original version had been, well, simpler somehow. While looking around to see where this latest update had come from - perhaps his own reality-warping dreams - he briefly considered getting in touch with Salvador Monterroso to ask if any of his players were virgins with ... but he quickly discarded the idea.

He sighed, and sat in his chair overlooking the training ground. A third of the gnomes were flying through the air, a third were chasing the groundskeeper and trying to bite his ankles, and the remaining third were leaving votive offerings at the base of their butter sculpture of Laborious Hawk.

Ultimately, he thought to himself, there were three likely scenarios here:

1) Banija had lost to the third and fourth seeds, so it stood to reason they would also lose to the second seeds; similarly, the Empire had lost to the fourth seeds, drawn against the third seeds, and so it stood to reason they would defeat the first seeds. The omens were good; win, and there was a good chance the Empire would go through as a best third-placed team, and an outside chance of sneaking second in the group.

2) Banija had had a terrible World Cup; this was the match the first seeds would bounce back and defeat a demoralised Holy Empire. The gnomes could go home and worship butter, and Juan Tzimisces could reflect on an awful tournament.

3) Banija and the Holy Empire would cancel each other out to a pointless draw, knocking both teams out of the tournament, and leaving the rest of the footballing world scratching their heads over what had happened in Group K.

Only scenario 1 was good enough.

This called for drastic action.

Juan Tzimisces looked again at the pre-kick-off speech he'd written to deliver to the gnomes. Well, he thought to himself, it was worth a shot... He rose from his chair, walked down to the training ground, and summoned the squad....

My beloved gnomes… I stand before you today not as your manager, but as a guide — a guide who’s seen the world beyond the walls of this training ground, a guide who’s battled the fiercest opponents, a guide who knows what it means to truly win.

I know you all worship at the feet of this glorious butter sculpture. I know you revere Laborious Hawk for his swift feet and daring play, for the way he slices through defences like a hot Vanorian knife through, well, butter <at this point, several of the gnomes looked noticeably uncomfortable> but, dear gnomes, let me tell you something you may not yet understand.

Laborious Hawk, great and apparently ageless though he undoubtedly is, is also but an elf; a magnificent footballer, no doubt, but still mortal and fallible.

And his buttery form is but fleeting. The butter you bow to? Believe me when I say it will one day melt into puddles of ghee. I also say to you today that there is something more permanent, something stronger, something that will always guide our results on the field of play - an eternal force of numbers, of chaos, of fate… and that, my friends, is Margaret.

Yes, I know - many of you have doubts. I see that you think that Margaret is a fickle goddess, a goddess of random numbers. But for nearly 100 World Cups I’ve lived through that randomness. I’ve tasted the fruit of chaos, and let me tell you - it can be sweet. Do you not see it? Do you not feel it in your very boots, in the way your feet strike the ground, in the way the ball bounces? That is Margaret’s gift. I concede that she is not a gentle mistress. But when the numbers come up right, she is a winner, gnomes, a guaranteed winner.

Do you think it was Laborious Hawk who scored that last-gasp goal that saw us defeated by those idiots that wandered off that plane from the Hapilopper Overseas Territories: Dominion Anaia Maritime Neighborhood in the first match day? No! It was Margaret - it was her fickle, beautiful, chaotic touch that scored that goal!

And let me remind you of this… Margaret and I ... yes, I, Juan Tzimisces ... she and I have shared a history - an unforgettable history of passion, and lust, and death, and victory. We know each other better than you could ever know any butter sculpture. And I tell you this... yes, Margaret is a bitch who must be bedded on a mattress of corpses - and believe me, I would know - but she is also goddess of destiny, a goddess of glory.”

I tell you that you are looking for answers in the wrong place. Butter may look good, butter may smell sweet, and even Margaret would concede that butter may be useful when engaging in certain sexual practices… but it is not eternal. The randomness of Margaret, her beautiful chaos... that is what can guide you forever.

So I ask you now, my gnomes: will you continue to worship a fleeting statue made of dairy? Or will you stand with me and place your faith in the only true force that can carry us to the second round?

Embrace the numbers, embrace the randomness, and sacrifice the traditional rubber chickens on her altar! Together, we can defeat Banija; together we can write a new legend; a legend of triumph, of randomness, of glory - no matter how strange or unpredictable it may seem.

Are you with me, gnomes?!

The gnomes looked at each other, and Juan Tzimisces held his breath...

He'd find out at kick-off if it had worked.

[Auprussia]

YEAR 4

The news of the league pyramid returning made a lot of the competitive football in Auprussia feel like an afterthought. A lot of this year and the next are filled with stories of preparation and rebuilding. For example Auprussia NF had started to renovate their stadium much to the chagrin of the local community. It was joked about in footballing circles that Cenviesse always had construction as roads were blocked almost daily. Clubs like Pontmeosont, Eolorent, and Birivistice who have nearby clubs who are also going through the same thing had submitted complaints to the AFF about these issues but the AFF was ruthless in getting the professional clubs back to a healthy state so the AFF told the clubs essentially, to deal with it. Otherwise the regional leagues still went ahead like normal but this time they were not playing for a national tour spot or for any gimmicky cups. It was made clear that performance in the regional leagues were to be considered for placements in the new pyramid. In this respect a lot of clubs started to play at a higher level due to the increased pressure.

In Auprussia the regional league was won by Pion ahead of both Auprussia NF and Origones. Strangely enough Brunisse also competed for the title for the majority of the season as well. A lot of the region's supporters remarked that is has been a while since the games meant that much to the clubs and supporters. Choetrie Denlans was the leading scorer of the league and if that name sounds familiar you would be right. This is also the season where Auprussia NF got reprimanded for a contingent of fans attempting to rush an Origones supporter section. No love lost of course.

In Chagris it was business as usual. Eolorent, Pontmeosont, Lorent Cardinaux, and Lorent Arca had comprised the top 4 of the league with some resistance from the likes of Helensorc, Lorentisse, and a recently founded Lorentine AN who to this day still play in the regionalliges. Chagris NF also made a bit of noise upsetting Cardinaux and Pontmeosont but ultimately the winners of the league were Eolorent.

Most of the regional leagues played out the same way this year as most of the bigger clubs in their regions won their leagues (Birivistice, Noechatel Athletike, Beorun, etc). The real vibe from year 4 was surrealness, the inevitable return of classical footballing structure had most feeling relieved after the dreadful experimentation of the Regional Era. These last two years will be some of the hollowest football ever played in Auprussia. Not to say nobody had fun but it was overshadowed by the reveal of the future Lige system.

A lot of players look back on this period as a fun time to be a player. There was no real consequences for most of the clubs that played in these competitions. It was like a weight was lifted off of most of the lower level clubs, but certain others took on the weight of the world. Those in the bubble like Alexia, Cultur deu Remaiy, Pion, etc. all had to be concerned. Alexia's performances had made it a laughing stock after this year and most of the clubs that were to be put in Lige 1 decided against putting Alexia into Lige or 2 due to the embarrassing results. Cultur deu Remaiy should have been a Lige 1 club but Auprussia NF argued that it did not represent the old Remaiy Galactique side that was in Lige PRO and it did not have any business in the first tier. This was a lie but Auprussia NF had its supporters like Eolorent and Noechatel Athletike. Since the pressure was so strong the AFF gave in and made Cultur deu Remaiy a Lige 2 club instead (erroneously known as Cultur deu Remai).

Pion in contrast had a really easy time justifying their place in Lige 1. Seeing as they had just won a regional league and had performed admirably in past National tournaments and regional tournaments. Auprussia NF's most questionable inclusion was Brunisse. It smacked of Auprussia NF trying to sneak Auprussian clubs into Lige 1. It was not a popular choice but Auprussia NF would not budge on including Brunisse and leaving out Cultur deu Remaiy. Auprussia NF also wanted Alexia in the first tier but was laughed out of the building. Birivistice also attempted to nominate Astellavoce to Lige 1 status but the AFF shot that down immediately. It was a crude and sort of hamfisted way of doing it but Lige 1's clubs were as follows: Auprussia NF, Brunisse, Beorun, Pion, Birivistice, Noechatel Athletike, Ostissiennes, Pontmeosont, Eolorent, Lorent Cardinaux, Lorent Arca, Angevines, Tiffisen Moineau, Louss ANF, Salvienne AN, Prus Ostrogia, Ostrogia Arca, Chagris NF, Bourgondines, Origones Auprus, Basonique Trethaire, and Prus Ostissia. A calvalcade of political and outright controversial picks but the AFF had to cave in to the bigger clubs' demands to get the league off the ground. The next year is spent organizing Lige 2 and the Regionalliges. Now the Regionalliges were not so hard to make because they have existed the entire time but Lige 2...ohhh man Lige 2 went through heavy changes in Year 5.