Baptism of Fire 44 Everything thread.

by **The Golden Tamarind** » Sat Oct 01, 2011 1:49 am

Tamarindia
Baptism of Fire 44 Tournament Squad

Following the great and thoroughly unexpected success in our first Di Bradini World Under-21 Cup entry, The Tamarindian Syndicate for Football is now looking at the Baptism of Fire and World Cup 57 and wondering how many of this golden generation in the under 21s are ready for the big stage. In anticipation of this we unashamedly used the Draggonnii Inviyatti as a test bed for youngsters to step up and claim a spot in the World Cup squad - and they did stunningly well to get to the Champions bracket. After a long wait since messing up the application for BoF 43 / WC 56, we finally come to the business end and have spent the time wisely. Once more we hope to surprise one or two people with our unique brand of naïve and panic-stricken football. And make friends from foreign lands at our tactical parties. And avoid creating International Incidents.

Colours: Yellow shirts, black & white trim; white shorts, yellow & black trim; black socks
Second: All light blue with white trim

RP PERMISSIONS
Granted in full: Knock yourself out - or us. Anything goes, except preserve us from death or supernatural happenings.

Tactics

Modifier: A slightly petrified -2.5

Full International Squad

Nickname: The Tamarins
Demonyms: Tamarindian, Tamarindo, Tamar
Manager: Maicon Sampaio
Captain: Bernardo Olavarria
Vice Captain: Masvidal
Artist: Román de la Cruz
Dynamo: Hannibal
Stormtrooper: Otto Moscoso

Manager: Maicon Sampaio, 43 ex-Espanyol manager, amateur player
Playboy: A role-model for the more self-obsessed footballer, he has never let a good time get in the way of doing a good job. Burns the candle at both ends – and loves it.

Assistant: Toni Alexis, 62 ex-Espanyol player & coach
Athlete: Still third fastest sprinter in the international squad, best long distance runner and king of the gym. Competitively-inclined because he is unnaturally fit.

Tactician & Au Pair: Isabella de Llanura (age unknown).
Temperamental: Has caused International Incidents through feisty confrontations with officials of various nations, including Johz, Spitfyred and Civil Citizenry. It is not clear if Isabella works for the Coach, or the Coach works for Isabella.

Coach & Scout: Eduardo Ramirez (age unknown).
Personality undescribed. Appearance unknown. Listed on the roster but never appears at matches or even in the team hotel. May be Specialist Jean-Baptiste Duzant, of the Academy for International Relations, who manages the prevention of International Incidents.

Advisory team:
General Hans Klaus. Retired Spitfyred soldier, tour manager. Primarily responsible for time-keeping, a great weakness of Tamarindo society.
Alukimanob Cerganolaf. Civil Citizen usually referred to as simply Aluki, security manager. Assisting with 'cultural barriers' and 'acclimatisation'.
ADK. Ex-Starblaydi international footballer, translator and tactical advisor.
Chu Mango. Mangolanadian war veteran, tour fixer. Very resourceful on the ground, useful for getting things and finding people who get things.
Nurse Imogen of Mangolana. Health & fitness practitioner. Looks after the injured with extra care and attention.

Playing staff

GOALKEEPERS

Arnold Tapia, 28, Cartageñas STARTER
Personality / playing style – Reliable: A sane goalkeeper is a rare commodity and Tapia is just that. No reality-bending mind-flips for Arnold. He knows which way is up, which way is over, and which way is out. 4 international caps last season, Tapia is emerging as the first choice keeper beating off recent position holders Perez, Castillo and Costa in the competition for an inviyattion to ASVM. 8 international caps.

Eduardo Reyes, 21, Estudiantes.
Showman: Literally. Born of a travelling circus family and claims to be a tiger-whisperer. Engaged to a Western Cuban streaker and recently won a move to a top six club in the Primera Liga. First call-up to the full international team. Part of the Di Bradini Cup 19 runners-up squad. 8 international caps.

Gaitán, 20, Jaguars
Warhorse: Big, strong and fast, his favourite move is the charge from the goal-line. Straight at on-coming strikers. In times when the keeper is over-protected by regulations, Gaitán is the exception – in the penalty box, it's the forwards who need protecting. Last season's Primera Liga Golden Glove winner and a surprise inclusion after missing out on the Under-21 di Bradini squad. First call-up to the full international team.

DEFENDERS

Otto Moscoso, D RC, 29, Los Mineros STARTER
Personality / playing style - motivator: Can stare for 12 minutes without blinking. Disappointed to have lost his vice-captaincy to Masvidal, one of few players who wouldn't buckle under his glare. 18 international caps.

Patricio Guillén, DL, 24, Los Mineros STARTER
Unpredictable: A qualified Professor of Philosophy, a genius troubled by the futility of it all. Can go walkabout, on and off the pitch. A Copa del Sol medal with Atlético Misión and player of the tournament, he jumped ship with their relegation to move to the University of Defensive Football, at Los Mineros. 16 international caps.

Héctor Salinas, DC, 26, Los Mineros STARTER
Resilient: Once played with a detached retina. Bleeds a lot, has a metal plate in his head, never stops running. Guillén's new mentor at Los Mineros. 18 international caps.

Anibal Calderón, D/WB R, 27, Sparta Misión STARTER
Playboy: Legendary gigolo Raymond Peréz is his hero. And unofficial mentor. Primera Liga champions medal, and 17 international caps.

Feliberto García, DC, 21, Espanyol
Flashy: Once deliberately nutmegged his own keeper in a league match and saved the ball from going in the net for an OG with a backheeled clearance off the line. First call-up to the full international team. Part of the Di Bradini Cup 19 runners-up squad. 8 international caps.

Andrés Durán, D RL, 21, Académica Libertad.
Leader: Son of a world boxing champion – you wouldn't argue with him. World Indoor Soccer Champions medal. First call-up to the full international team. Part of the Di Bradini Cup 19 runners-up squad. 8 international caps.

Alejandro Canó, D RC, 18, Sparta Misión,
Determined: Is reputed to have run through a breeze-block wall for a bet. Determined and strong, already a cultured footballer and expected to be the national team captain in time, certainly one of the best prospects in the whole country. The only member of the squad who would argue with Durán. World Indoor Soccer Champions medal. Part of the Di Bradini Cup 19 runners-up squad. 8 international caps.

MIDFIELDERS

Rubén Candal, D/WB L DM M LC, 25, Los Mineros STARTER
Personality / playing style - Warhorse: Tallest player in any squad, heaviest, strongest, longest hair, biggest biceps, highest jumper, fastest sprinter, greatest stamina. Average footballer. 17 international caps & 1 goal.

Bernardo Olavarria, DM M RC, 30, Vanguardia, Captain STARTER
Motivator: Looks like Attila the Hun. First national team captain but after mixed results and playing for a poor league team, some think this could be his last chance with Masvidal looking the natural captain of his country. A good tournament may keep the armband for him, at least for the Baptism of Fire. 18 international caps.

Hannibal Costa, MC, 20, Los Mineros, STARTER
Resilient: He's called Hannibal. And sometimes Attila. And Genghis Khan. And other famous barbarian warrior types. First call-up to the full international team. Part of the Di Bradini Cup 19 runners-up squad. 8 international caps & 1 goal.

Román de la Cruz, AM R, 28, Astillero STARTER
Creative: Can see a pass three phases ahead. But no-one else can, so it's a moot point. League and domestic cup winners medals, 16 international caps and 1 goal.

Raúl Argo, MC, 33, Astillero
Resilient: Was run over by an articulated truck carrying logs from the rainforest. Avid environmental campaigner. League and domestic cup winners medals, 7 international caps. Much loved by all, a hero of The Great Yellow Curtain – Tamarindia's defensive strategy – age is beginning to catch up with the old war horse, although he'll be in the world cup squad through national demand. 15 international caps.

Antonio Tejada, DM/MC, 21, Astillero,
Eccentric: Claims not to understand the rules of football. Clearly not the case. Under 21s captain, this is his first call-up to the full international team. Captain of the Di Bradini Cup 19 runners-up squad and scorer of the Tamarindo goal in the final. 8 international caps.

Iván Calvo, M R, 20, Astillero
Unpredictable: Really does not understand the rules of football. Mercury was invented so that commentators could call Calvo 'mercurial'. First call-up to the full international team. Part of the Di Bradini Cup 19 runners-up squad. 8 international caps.

Jansel Ortega, AM RL, 21, Atletico Misión
Temperamental: Does not like cry-babies, scaredy-cats or sloths. First call-up to the full international team. Part of the Di Bradini Cup 19 runners-up squad. 8 international caps.

STRIKERS

Masvidal, AM RC/ST, 23, Sparta Misión, vice captain, STARTER
Personality / playing style – warhorse: Celebrates scoring by punching team-mates on the upper arm. Really hard. The national football icon and future captain of his country. Detained in immigration in Johz and missed the first ever Tamarindian international in the Johzian Amateurs Cup. Ordained a priest of ‘Shana in Mangolana during Beach Cup 4. Scored the first ever international goal for Tamarindia on home soil. Primera Liga 1 Player of the Season / Golden Boot winner (24). Primera Liga 2 champions medal and Golden Boot (21), and World Indoor Soccer Champions medal (WISC 2) - as captain. 15 international caps & 9 goals. A legend in his own lifetime, he secretly plans to be Tamarindia's answer to Simeone di Bradini. Used to be called Dwayne, will punch anyone who uses that name now – double hard.

Sergio Basta, ST, 24, TTAD, STARTER
Introvert: Has a degree in Librarianism. A late developer, bursting on the scene two seasons ago from nowhere, and striking up an impressive international partnership with Masvidal. Próximo 1 Golden Boot winner (21 goals for TTAD) and Próximo 1 champions medal; Copa del Sol (prequela) Golden Boot winner (9 goals, for Club Malí), 13 international caps & 4 goals.

Marcos Suárez, ST, 22, Académica Libertad
Unpredictable: Impossible to mark, does the least obvious when you most expect it, and the most obvious when you don't. Strike partners may need psychic powers to play alongside him, but he's great in one-up-front formations. A surprise first call-up for the El Colegio striker, after a good season with the Primera Liga runners-up. 8 international caps & 1 goal.

Yancey Ortíz, ST, 21, Estudiantes
Eccentric: Celebrates scoring by staging small one-man interpretations of Shakespeare. Has been so successful he may soon need to move on to the poetry of Tennyson or the epics of Homer. First call-up to the full international team. Part of the Di Bradini Cup 19 runners-up squad. 8 international caps.

Daniel Magnín, FC, 19, Creciente
Creative: A renowned storyteller and confidence trickster, liar, sleight-of-hand magician and card shark. His first call-up to the full international team, Magnín was also a new call-up to the under 21s this season. Future superstar: Tamarindia's player of the tournament in the Di Bradini Cup 19 runners-up squad. 8 international caps & 1 goal.

by **Seunem** » Sat Oct 01, 2011 11:23 am

Prologue One ~ ZOMMFGTEXTWALLLLL!!!1093!!

Alright. Tree-falling-in-a-forest time.

Is ‘weirdness’ an intrinsic quality? Or oddness, or strangeness, or peculiarity? Or does an event only become weird or odd or strange or peculiar when viewed through the eyes of one who considers it thus, and must that even be a sentient being? What if the same event is viewed by two, one who considers it odd, the other not? Is one bemused onlooker enough to render an occurrence curious? And conversely, is one man, woman, genderneutral or child amongst a crowd perceiving the event as normal or usual or average or everyday or humdrum enough to divest it of the state of weirdness placed upon it by his or her neighbours? To a true witch, surely, an eldritch coven is as occult as a scallop?

An illustrative scene may help us; here, in a little corner of the great city set aside for plant life, but where no flowers grow. A moment of geographic tranquillity amidst the roar of the living capital, yet today beset by running and fighting and screaming. A place of safety, of respite, under the attentive glare of CCTV cameras, but where broken glass is trampled into the soil beneath boots, and around which police tape flicks at the wind, black and yellow, drizzle-slick.

Weird? Odd?

What of our onlooker, our face in the crowd, our tourist from far away, from the Holy Vats of Puedam T’sujiecalpa. What does he think of this sight? Of these strange, unruly humans, short in stature, by turns as graceless and as graceful as any he has seen? What is a man raised in a bubbling tank to make of his first encounter with the creatures known as children?

There are no Holy Vats, of course. There aren’t too many tourists these days, come to that. Like I say… illustrative example. But if there were such an onlooker here, who saw the very existence of ‘children’ as strange and peculiar, would that in itself render them strange, or peculiar?

What of another tourist, newly arrived, a teenager dressed all in black, here on their runaround? What is she to make of these children, in their garish dress, disturbing the peace as they chase a bouncing sphere? Girls and boys, younger even that her… touching. Grabbing hold of each other, pulling each other down into the churn and laughing all the while. Is this a dance?, she wonders. Courtship?

Odd? Strange? Raised in a land without play, without sport, what is she to make of this?

There is no teenager; there are no tourists. But what about another couple, from a third country still? They know sport, of course, and soccer. But what are these children wearing? What do the symbols upon their shirts signify? Why do they have their names printed on them, if those are their names at all? Is Randjelovic really that common a surname here? They certainly can’t be brothers, the white boys and the yellow boy, unless… Unless their folks adopted the poor child from the heathen east! Oh, bless their hearts! Why, I don’t care what it says in the bro-sure, Kent, I think the people here’re just gosh-darn lovely!

Strange? Peculiar? In a multiverse of eighty thousand nations, isn’t it those few with professional sport, with a knowledge of the World Cup, who are the strange and peculiar ones?

What about another visitor; young, perhaps, not a true football fan but aware of the worlds’ game? How they would frown as they peered at the names on the shirts as they flashed by, and listened to the children’s shouts. How oddly… retro, it would all seem. As though the last decade, or two, had never happened. Randjelovic, Nakatsuru, Kouakou Kouamé. William, Hamizi, Arrigorriagakoa. Rafael Nunes, Szatmári, Bateman. A Valrauncion, he might note, approvingly. A St. Louis. But who exactly is Tekeste? Or Alsheris? And which Young wears black like that?

How very peculiar…

There is no such visitor though, not here, not today, not in the startled streets of suburban Albrecht, the capital of the Republic of Candelaria And Marquez.

It used to be important this city, this country, if you were odd and strange and peculiar enough to assign ‘importance’ on the basis of sporting prowess. Perhaps it will be again, one day. But right now, while this nation remains upstairs listening to its tapes for a few years, our attentions are neither on the Candelariasian archipelago, nor even on its youngest citizens as they experience the newly illicit rush that only the football field can provide.

Of the three real onlookers, two idly watch the third depart, presumably for some tissues, a damp flannel and a nice lie down. And then there were two, the younger and taller growing rapidly aware that he is not alone on his afternoon jog. The other figure had manifested as if from the air, arriving cat-like, to stand in his shadow.

“If there is to be hope,” the smaller man says, “If there is to be hope… It lies with the children.”

“Mm,” the other ventures, politely.

“A quote, I do think. More or less. Perhaps. Biblical, possibly? It is been a long time.”

“I don’t think so…”

“Hm. Hmm… Behold, here am I… And the children which God hath given I. I do think, mm. And then… Something about partaking in flesh. Hebrews! Hebrews, I do think, indeed. I cannot pretend to have maintained my studies, they as which I have named as neighbour partaking not of the Book these long years. Nor so of the flesh, I’m delighted to say. I report no instances of cannibalism amo… But you were saying, young sir?”

The younger man had spent the last twenty seconds or so formulating a number of possible plans, as he’d been trained to do for the past fifteen years or so. ‘Make a runner for it’ was the principle option, though it lacked both a certain finesse and finality. The prospect of punching his unwanted companion spark out felt better, more right somehow, and he balked at himself even as his mind’s mouth formed the words. He wasn’t a violent man, not at heart, but this last year… This last year had changed him, changed everyone. Now, being muttered to by an insane old man with what appeared to be rather self-consciously esoteric speech patterns, he genuinely wanted to do him harm.

Strange. Peculiar.

“I… Wasn’t. I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh? Oh.” His new friend seemed both surprised and disappointed at this revelation. “Truly? But your eyes did say enough. Your footing. They alike spoke of loss. Frustration. The hope… to hope…”

“Yeah… Yeah. Yeah,” the taller man concluded lamely, but this time eliciting no response. It was his peculiar new cohort’s turn to stare blankly at the football match rolling with joyful anarchy back and forth across the park. The other took a few hesitant steps along the path until a cyclist slid past and dragged the elder from his reverie.

“As bad as I was told, then? You must forgive me, I came only one, perhaps two o’clock. Of this morning, this country is new to me. It is most very new to me, almost all… But not everything, alas. Would they be disbursed? Were they seen by men of authority?”

“Um… The kids? No. No! God no,” the younger man insisted, without knowing quite why. “It’s not that bad. It’s frowned upon, that’s all. People’re a bit down on football at the moment, an–”

“This being why you wear the cowl? To pass unnoticed?”

“It’s just a hoodie, mate…” Actually, that wasn’t quite true, was it? “Alright, actually… It’s just force of habit. I just didn’t like to get noticed, back in the old days, if I was out. You could get mobbed, and… I just didn’t like the attention. Not every day.”

“And now it is the same… but different? Yes? You fear being noticed?”

“Some people just aren’t very forgiving,” the younger man replied, with feeling. Why am I telling you this? he thought to himself. Why am I even talking to you, you mad old twat? He risked a proper, fulsome look at the newcomer – the foreigner, presumably, and he had to stop himself adding a ‘bloody’ before the ‘foreigner’ like Pavlov’s xenophobe – for the first time. Shorter than he was, of average height or slightly less. Age…? Indeterminate – a well-kept eighty, conceivably, or a decrepit forty from a land without universal dentistry. Face and hands crinkle-cut from a life of work under the beating sun, and dark tanned skin to match. And wiry… sinewy, even. An odd mixture, if you didn’t know what you were looking for.

It was a familiar look. Old footballers went one way or another after they retired. They could blow up like a pufferfish, like Ryan and Ryan, or go like this guy, toned, all muscle, like Rachid or the gaffer. The body may not be willing any longer, but it remembers…

“You were a player?” he said, more a statement than a question. You just knew.

The other smiled, toothily. “Well observed, Mister Samson.”

“Aaaand, then… You know who I am? Where’re you from, then?” Sam asked, intrigued now. In truth, it was an ego trip. He couldn’t believe there were too many outside the Candelarias, or maybe Pasarga, who’d even remember his name. Even a mad old man was something.

“Certainly! Of course. How could I not know Samson Patris and Bavent? The great striker of Albrecht Turkish!”

“It’s… it’s really just Sam Patris now,” Sam mumbled, callow now in the man’s sudden lucidity.

“Truly? A pity, then. How does your father consider this development?”

“Yeah, I… I don’t have a lot to do with him, these days…”

The man looked genuinely disappointed once more. “It does no good for a father and son to be rent apart afore heaven’s claim is made upon one or t’other. You can trust my word on this.”

Sam shrugged. “You swerved the question, anyway. Where’re you from? Rushmore? Don’t think I recognise the accent, but there seems to be so many of us these days…”

“Yes. No. A little place… far away…”

“Were you an international? Ain’t exactly a scholar of the game, but I might recognise the name.”

“And your mother? How does she feel about your renuncion of your family name?”

“Mom’s fine. She’s fine. And I haven’t… renunced my family name, just the stupid extra bit. It hardly fits on the back of m’shirt anyway. Fitted… Where’re you from, mate?” Sam snapped. “If you know so much about me, what’s your name?”

“Thomas, Mister Samson. Thomas… Merrytent and Paschal.”

On the D of the and, Sam was already walking away, hoping just this once to be noticed, hoping for a crowd, a mob… A distraction. But Thomas was keeping astride with him.

“Perhaps I have offended you?”

“No. No…”

“But, I bri–”

“No!” Sam blurted again, waving an irritable hand in Thomas’ direction. “No. I don’t care, I don’t want to hear it.”

“You do want to hear it, though. You do want to know. A man cannot run away from his home, Mister Samson,” Thomas insisted, as they squeezed together through a bicycle gate, the older man picking up his pace enough to keep in time with the young footballer’s footsteps. “He may run only towards it. Or perhaps he will remain… what be the word? Equidistant? Equidistant from it, at all times, for… do mind that poor pigeon, child, it means us no ill… for he carries it upon his back, as might a snail, or… tera… teratoise. I am not sure of which, I have yet to fully consider the axiom. Neither is one for the annals, I fear… Hm. Hmm… My apologies, you were saying, young sir?”

But Sam had already gone, leaving the dazed old fool far behind, passing into the high street and mixing with the shoppers. He wasn’t going to have this! Not now. Not… He didn’t want this. He didn’t want this.

“And yet you do, do you?” said the rubbish bin next to him. He felt fingers enclose his arm, a grip like the proverbial vice.

Christ. “You’ve, uh… You’ve still a fair turn of pace, then?” Sam said weakly.

“Not like you…”

“No. Not like me at all, I can barely run faster than the average bloke in the street,” Sam hissed, attracting attention from a small boy tugging on its mother’s hand. She didn’t give him a second glance, but the first was bad enough. “You’d know that if you were such a fan.”

“But I am, and I do. Speed is not your element, but guile? Trickery? Oh, I have seen you, Mister Samson!” Thomas said, not loudly but insistently. He released his grip, and began flexing bony, wormy fingers. “The half-way line. Johnson found you, but you were marked tightly by Warren and Williams. There was no room, but you found a way through… You tapped the ball past them, but not to you partner… To yourself. To the man you would be in two seconds hense. And you took the ball, and you ran… But not with your feet, no… No, with your mind. And it was your mind that took you soaring past the girlchild, Miss Alice, and past Johansson… And the completion, oh! Beauty, Mister Samson,” Thomas told him, whispering now, his eyes half closed. “Beauty as a foot. As a boot, as a ball, as a net. Such a fine mind. Such a waste, hm. I need you, Mister Samson. We all need you.”

Sam wasn’t used to a eulogy like this, not from a coach, nor a fan, nor a journalist… and certainly not these days. He swallowed. “Look… That’s very… nice. Really nice. It was one-nil, wasn’t it? Mayo Valley?”

“CMSC Thirty-Nine. Matchday Eight. And a simple, beautiful goal that wrung the discharge of the opposing manager. Beauty, destruction… All in a single foot. You must mourn its loss.”

“We’re a little too busy mourning other stuff,” Sam said shortly. His head was feeling cloudy. He tried to shake it away. “Mate, look, whatever you’re planning, whate–”

“The captaincy? Valued here, I do think. It would belong to you. Your thoughts, your experience… A rightful leader of men. Your baptism awaits…”

“No. Look… This is my country, alright? God knows it took long enough to get used to that… I’ve never even been home!”

“Home, though…” the man said pointedly.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” They were attracting more stares. Sam hurried further down the street, Thomas following meekly alongside him. “If home’s anywhere, it’s C&M, or it’s Chesapeake Bay. That’s where I was born. Seunem? It’s just… it’s just a word. Mom and dad never even talked about it. It means nothing to me. So what, you’re putting a national team together? Right?”

“Yes. And we need you, indeed. We need our captain.”

“Look, you can tell the FA there… tell them thanks. And I mean it. It’s a nice offer. But that place… I don’t even know where it is!”

“It’s here,” Thomas said softly. Sam followed a wizened finger down to his own feet. He shrugged.

“No, mate. No. It’s not in my feet. My feet are Candelariasian feet. That’s how I was taught. Candelariasian coaches, Candelariasian training… Candelariasian feet.”

“Oh. Botherance. Would there have been greater evocation had I pointed to your heart?”

“No.”

“Your head?”

“Really, no.”

“Your soul?”

“Honestly, it… Sorry, where…? That’s my right kidney.”

“‘Without neigh, great is the mystery of godliness.’”

“Sorry?”

“Some manner of prohibition agin the multiplication of horses, I do think. Hm.”

“Look,” Sam sighed, hopelessly, “I don’t need another bloody country in my life! Two’s bad enough. And, y’know, I’m only just turned twenty-nine. There’s still a chance of winning C&M caps…”

Thomas shook his head sadly. “When it is you believe this country’s team will be returned to’t? Your Premier has forbade it.”

“Yeah, but she’s long gone. Toot?”

“And her successor…”

“And she’ll be out on her arse before too long, an’ all! This is just a minor… Look, I know what people feel about football and footballers now, but it’s only a matter of time before it comes back! We’re Candelaria And Marquez! We are football! We’ve got nothing if we haven’t got that! We can’t run away from who we are!”

Tired toddlers wailed in the screaming hush, sparrows swore at each other, mothers grumbled at the prices, tills ker-chinged. A hundred footsteps flowed around them. Sam groaned inwardly.

“You’re so going to use that last comment against me, aren’t you?”

“Seunem needs her captain, Mister Samson,” Thomas said softly, dangerously. He reached out a hand and held Sam’s tightly for a moment. “We will see each other again, I do think. Hmm, yes…”

And then the old man was gone again, and Sam waited a few seconds before turning around to watch the Seunemi’s retreating back. None was forthcoming, but that hardly surprised him. Thomas had probably turned into mist, or a butterfly, or something. People did, these days. Gordon Bay was only just down the coast, after all. Weird and strange and peculiar were just matters of time, now.

Sam blinked himself back into reality, as though he was sobering up or waking from a drea…

No. No, not like a dream. Not anymore. Bad analogy, Sam. Bad analogy.

And here was Thornywood High Street, in Hoxton, in Albrecht, on Candelaria, and a hundred people pretending to be normal and do normal things and to know what normal was, as if anything here, in this damned stupid little country, could ever be normal again, as i–”

“OI! PATRIS! YOU FUCKWIT!”

With reflexes honed by years on the football field, and unblunted by these months of meaningless amateurism, Sam dodged a punnet of strawberries.

“Thank you!” he called out, just quiet enough to avoid antagonising the fat man still further as he waddled away. He risked vague grins at curious passers-by, but few took more than one glance at him before striding away, clutching their bags or children’s hands a little more tightly. It was as if he wasn’t quite of them. Not part of their world. He might as well have been a faerie.

It wasn’t my fault, Sam told himself, standing there, a patchwork scarecrow, a man pieced together from parts, in a field of commercialism. None of it’s my fault! There’s nothing I could’ve done. Nothing…

The striker unclenched his fists, and barely caught the two slips of paper that fluttered from his palm.

He glanced at the first, a small, thick card, and turned it over and over before letting it drop onto the cobbles. It said nothing but a name – “Mr. Thomas, Merrytent a. Paschal”. No telephone number, no email address…

And the plane ticket, of course, the clean design of Candelarias Air. Business Class/Clase Ejecutiva, 02-10-11, Gate A, 34B, No Fumador, From/Desde: Albrecht International, To/Destino: Mascona International, Name/Nombre: PATRIS AND BAVENT, SAMSON…

“Did you pack my bloody passport, an’ all?” Sam muttered at the wind, knowing full well that the oblong coolness emanating from his back pocket wasn’t merely there to keep his right buttock pleasingly fresh.

Strange? Peculiar? Irregular?

But, strangely… right, right now?

Right?

by **Ohio Island** » Sat Oct 01, 2011 3:39 pm

Goal keeper: Tim Dillard
Midfielder: Mark Robinson
Midfielder: Justin Peate
Midfielder: Robert Smith
Forwards: Mohammed Musa
Forwards: Jason Mason
Forward: Kevin Tate
Forward: Jamar O'brien
Defender: Ross Howard
Defender: Kurt Kirk
Defender: Travis Russell

Reserves:
GK Peter Wilson
MF Casey Williams
MF George Harrison
MF Jerome Miller
Fr. Tommy Millian
Fr. Dustin Frazier
Fr. Henrick Moore
D. Travis McFarland
D Toni Hamm

Choose my goal goal scorers: yes
Godmod my scoring even: no
Role-play injuries to my players: yes
Godmod my injuries: no
Godmod other evens: no

by **Qazox** » Sat Oct 01, 2011 8:34 pm

"Hi and welcome to SaxerVilla, Qazox for the group draw of the 44th Baptism of Fire. i'm your host, Frank Drebin. With 52 teams competing in this event, we thought long and hard about how to evenly sort the groups. Then it hit us, what else has 52 items in it? Besides a weekly calender. A deck of cards! So each team will be randomly drawn a card. If it is a Heart or a Diamond, that team will go to Mangolana for their group games. If it is a Club or Spade, that team will remain here in Qazox for their group games. And here we go:

Note: All teams were randomly drawn and placement within a group is for scheduling purposes only not an indicator of a seeding.

MANGOLANA GROUPS: (Mangolana can rename theirs if they so wish...)

Group 1:
Camwood
Trimasia
Mapletish
Tal Vararr
Gyatso-kai
Arcatea

Group 2:
New Gaelicia
Tryienne
Nicole Scherzinger
Eggy216
Wadomia
Osesnsasandaes
The Vuhifellian States

Group 3:
Iphmopf
Freezingland
Lonaga
Greater Coventry
The Peterwood Estate
Braxil

Group 4:
The Golden Tamarind
Hladio Huggers
Miley World
Cygning
Hippostania
Rouge Pioneers
Ohio Island

QAZOX GROUPS:

Club Group:
Thatius
Seunem
Brendino the 3rd
Zoobians
Carmadin
Zhevalsso-zhevalsso

Diamond Group:
The Kytler Peninsulae
Cote de Platine
Triimoria
Howdeellow
Skalholt
Yiland
Dixie Provinces

Heart Group:
Ipeland
Chuckio
Garon-Averia
Ponoka
Puttania
Krumbia
Lymantatia

Spade Group:
Blutreiger
Deep Freid Bacon
Kazerjan
Beldonia
Megadia
Euskirribakondara

by **Qazox** » Sat Oct 01, 2011 8:36 pm

SCHEDULE: teams listed 1st are the "home team" in each matchup.
6-team groups:
MD1: October 3rd- 3v6; 4v5 BYES- 1 and 2
MD2: October 4th- 6v4; 1v2 BYES- 3 and 5
MD3: October 5th- 3v1; 5v6 BYES- 2 and 4
MD4: October 6th- 1v4; 2v3 BYES- 5 and 6
MD5: October 7th- 4v2; 5v1 BYES- 3 and 6
MD6: October 8th- 1v6; 2v5; 3v4
MD7: October 9th- 5v3; 6v2 BYES- 1 and 4

7-team groups:
MD1: October 3rd- 2v7; 3v6; 4v5 BYE- 1
MD2: October 4th- 6v4; 7v3; 1v2 BYE- 5
MD3: October 5th- 3v1; 4v7; 5v6 BYE- 2
MD4: October 6th- 7v5; 1v4; 2v3 BYE- 6
MD5: October 7th- 4v2; 5v1; 6v7 BYE- 3
MD6: October 8th- 1v6; 2v5; 3v4 BYE- 7
MD7: October 9th- 5v3; 6v2; 7v1 BYE- 4

KNOCKOUT ROUNDS:
First round games: October 11th-
Round of 16 games: October 12th-
Quarterfinals: October 13th-
Semifinals: October 14th-
3rd Place game: October 15th-
Championship: October 16th-

Qazox will host both the 3rd place game and Championship, Mangolana will host both semifinals.

by **Qazox** » Sat Oct 01, 2011 9:08 pm

Qazox' hosting site schedule:

MD1:
Clubs- Rockport Stadum, Rockport.
Diamonds- New Bruxen Hotel and Casino Field, New Bruxen.
Hearts- Ganja Vodka Stadium, Fromburg.
Spades- SaxerDome, SaxerVilla.

MD2:
Clubs- Qazian Memorial Stadium, Qazox City.
Diamonds- Estadia Pika, Pika City.
Hearts- SaxerDome, SaxerVilla.
Spades- Rockport Stadium, Rockport.

MD3:
Clubs- Ganja Vodka Stadium, Fromburg.
Diamonds- Qazian Memorial Stadium, Qazox City.
Hearts- Estadia Pika, Pika City.
Spades- New Bruxen Hotel and Casino Field, New Bruxen.

MD4:
Clubs- New Bruxen Hotel and Casino Field, New Bruxen.
Diamonds- SaxerDome, SaxerVilla.
Hearts- Rockport Stadium, Rockport.
Spades- Ganja Vodka Stadium, Fromburg.

MD5:
Clubs- SaxerDome, SaxerVilla.
Diamonds- Rockport Stadum, Rockport.
Hearts- Qazian Memorial Stadium, Qazox City.
Spades- Estadia Pika, Pika City.

MD6:
Clubs- Estadia Pika, Pika City.
Diamonds- Ganja Vodka Stadium, Fromburg.
Hearts- New Bruxen Hotel and Casino Field, New Bruxen.
Spades- Qazian Memorial Stadium, Qazox City.

MD7:
Clubs- Rockport Stadum, Rockport.
Diamonds- New Bruxen Hotel and Casino Field, New Bruxen.
Hearts- Ganja Vodka Stadium, Fromburg.
Spades- SaxerDome, SaxerVilla.

Knockout round venues will be posted after the group stage.

by **The Kytler Peninsulae** » Sun Oct 02, 2011 6:54 am

From the Roddens Daily Echo, one of the leading newspapers in the country, and the one often referred to as the national paper of record owing to its lack of pronounced political leanings.

Soccer team "content" with Baptism of Fire draw
Howdeellow, Triimoria, scheduling seen as main barriers to playoff spot

The Kytlerian soccer team have been placed in a manageable group in the Baptism of Fire tournament for World Cup debutants in Qazox and Mangolana, avoiding the favourites Seunem and The Golden Tamarind, but will face an intensive playing schedule with no mid-group bye games.

The team were one of seven drawn into the "Diamond Group", named in recognition of the novel use of playing cards in the 52-team draw. Of their six opponents, four have yet to provide lists of their players, which historically has been a powerful indicator of poor performance. The two that have, Triimoria and Howdeellow, are expected to join the Kytlerians in the three qualifying spots from the group.

Diamond Group draw

The Kytler Peninsulae
Cote de Platine
Triimoria
Howdeellow
Skalholt
Yiland
Dixie Provinces

"They've both been playing in the Market Cup, which is a competitive tournament - Howdeellow lost only 2-1 to Mangolana, so they're not a bad team," mused Kytlerian manager Thomas Morgan. "They've got some fast young strikers in [Micheal] Conley and [Joshua] Pimentel, and experience in central midfield with Nelinho and [José] Verinho. As for Triimoria, Joseph Farmer's a very experienced goalkeeper, Bert Hyooj is also full of experience, they're not coming in as raw as most teams here."

The Kytlerians' experience in non-WCC competitions is restricted to group-stage exits in the Lasft Olympics and the Copa Rushmori, but Morgan says "none of that really matters all that much once you're in the competitions that matter."

Group stage schedule
All dates RL timeframe
October 4: vs Cote de Platine (evening, Estadia Pika, Pika City)
October 5: vs Triimoria (lunchtime, Qazian Memorial Stadium, Qazox City)
October 6: vs Howdeellow (afternoon, SaxerDome, SaxerVilla)
October 7: vs Skalholt (afternoon, Rockport Stadium, Rockport)
October 8: vs Yiland (lunchtime, Ganja Vodka Stadium, Fromburg)
October 9: vs Dixie Provinces (evening, New Bruxen Hotel and Casino Field, New Bruxen)

The biggest issue going forward is that the team were drawn first in their group, meaning they will have a bye game on the opening matchday before playing six straight games, all as part of triple-headers at various venues in Qazox. "It's a tricky schedule, and it could cause problems," admitted Morgan, "but we have no excuses - Howdeellow and Triimoria are in the Market Cup at the same time." When told that time-dilation technology would mean they would suffer no ill-effects from this, Morgan's response was emphatic: "Where can we get some of that?" The reporter then hummed a distinctive rhythmic bass melody at Morgan, to which he replied: "Oh, of course, Doctor Who," referring to a popular RL television drama series. "Anyway, seriously, one advantage we do have is being able to see everyone before we play them, and to get some time training and planning our strategy for each game. Once you get going in matches, you don't tend to want to stop, especially if you're winning - and I believe we can win every game in this group."

The team will play in six different venues across Qazox, including a last-day fixture at the New Bruxen Hotel and Casino Field, recently renovated with the input of Kytlerian architects Bright New World. Eight nations competing in this competition have utilised the fledgling Zube-based designers, including two who face the Kytlerians in the Diamond Group - the Estadio de Futbol de Howdeellow and Yiland's T-Max Arena were both Bright New World designs.

by **Seunem** » Sun Oct 02, 2011 10:40 am

Prologue Two ~ ZOMMFGTEXTWALLAGAINMAKINGTHEMOSTOFTHEWEEKENDINNIT!!!1094!!

“…dies, gentlemen and genderqueers, this is your captain speaking… Just a little reminder that you may experience some mild chronological instability as we enter the local temporal bubble in about ten min… uh… in a bit. Little bit. Kindly return to your seats, fasten your seat belts, and pray to whichever higher power you are arrogant enough to assume cares a button about your pointless little lives that you don’t come out of it younger than your yet-to-be-born granddaughter… Ta muchly.”

“Blpmbt?”

“Oh, don’t let it bother you; he’s been like that all morning. Not a man happy in his work…”

“Blmfl. Yurg…”

Samson Patris and Bavent wiped his eyes and stared out the window. Far below, between the wisps of clouds, the endless turnip valleys that fed the continent from Maymont to Tellussodissano rolled past.

Samson Patris and Bavent wiped his eyes and stared to his left, where slender fingers played like worry beads or the rosary with a necklace or pendant or something of that ilk, bent into the shape of ‘Amy’.

“I’m on a plane,” he declared hesitantly, after a while. “I’m on a plane. With an Amy.”

“Really? Fine, fine,” the owner of the Amy muttered with affected exasperation. “Okay… I’m on a plane, with an Amy and… a badger.”

“Uh?”

“You haven’t been transmogrified into the form of a six year-old, then? It happens, you know.”

“I’d heard,” Sam said sourly. He stretched, and blinked away the blur as he tried to focus on the young woman sitting next to him. He recognised her instantly. Well how could he not? She was… him, essentially. But with marginally larger breasts and longer eyelashes.

She stared right back, and held up a hand. “Aye. Hi. Seatbelt.”

“Uh? Oh, yeah…”

“We’re about to fly over Kyrin del Norte, if you need to get your bearings. It’s yellow, apparently. There’s an awful lot of yellow in this part of Rushmore.”

“Right.” He played with his fingers a little, out of a vague sense of genetic solidarity. “I, um… I never really realised there was such a thing as a Seunemi ethnicity…”

The woman smiled. “We do seem to be a type, don’t we? It’s the hair, mainly. Front of the queue when the chestnut was being handed out, ‘our’ people. And the whole kinda equine look, obviously.” She caught his expression at the inverted commas and grinned apologetically. “Sorry, boss. Having trouble getting used to it. To tell you the truth… apart from granny, and m’grandad, I guess, but he followed my mum’s folks into the soil when I was about two… Well, you’re only the second one of ‘us’ I’ve actually met… I think. Third maybe.”

“Snap.”

“Really?”

“Apart from mom and dad. And our guardian angel, obviously.” He yawned. “He here, or travelling with the rest of the domestics?”

“Mister Thomas? You really were spark out this morning, weren’t you? Few rows back, with Fussy Fussikins.”

Sam shifted himself uncomfortably to glance behind him. There ‘Mister Thomas’ sat, staring into a notepad, pausing occasionally to make additions or enter into hurried conflabs with the neat little man to his side.

“Is he even our manager, anyway? I’d’ve thought the… SFA, or whatever it is, would’ve looked abroad, all things considered. Or maybe they have, he didn’t look very Seunemi to me. And who’s the other bloke? And why haven’t I been told anything already, I’m supposed to be the captain…”

Amy gave a half shrug. “Can’t answer the last one. The little fella’s called Maxim.”

“Assistant manager?”

“God knows. We only met for about three seconds yesterday. Kit man, for all I know.”

“Carer?”

“Boyfriend?”

“All four?”

“Nice gig if you can get it.”

Sam screwed up his face. “Remind me not to take a peek at your search history, Ames. Um… It is Amy, right? That’s not, like, your granny’s, or…?”

“Yeah. Amy Goscard-Magdalen.” She stuck up a hand again, momentarily. “We… have met. Briefly,” she added, at Samson’s blank expression. “CMS Cup? Last thirty-two, three years back, maybe? Maidment SC? We took you to a replay…”

“Oh. Sorry…”

“Yeah… No worries,” the woman muttered in tones to suggest anything but. “If it helps, you only came on for the last twenty minutes and your lot were four-nil up already. Proper skinned me though, delivered a peach of a ball for Calabrese, how he didn’t score I’ll never know. Left me right on m’backside.” She sighed. “Obviously not the world’s most memorable backside, right?”

“If it helps, I see a lot of backsides. Well… Saw, anyway.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

Silence descended for a short while, flopping down from the overhead luggage like so many stowaway maggots, globular and awkward. Amy tried to brush them aside.

“Mental though, innit? I’ve been playing park football for the past year, doing secretarial work full-time… And then suddenly I’m going to be a full international! Keep thinking they’ve got the wrong girl.”

“I nearly didn’t come…”

“Yeah? More fool you, mate. I jumped at the chance. Might never come back, at that… See if I can’t get a club in the Mangolanan third division or something, assuming they have one, I dunno… Put the Candelarias behind me altogether.”

“You can’t run away from your home,” Sam murmured.

Amy snorted, stuffing the necklace into a jeans pocket with an irritable flourish. “You bloody well can! You not seen Runaways: Live! on TV1? Speaking as someone who subsisted on a diet of daytime telly for three months until I gave up ever finding a club again; I reckon they’ve got the right idea. It’d be nice to just disappear,” she said, with feeling. “Forget. Still see… Still the colours and that. Sometimes,” Amy added, her voice suddenly little more than a mumble.

“I think we all do,” Sam whispered.

“Yeah. Must be weirder for you lot, actually. The ones who travelled, I mean everyone’s busy pointing fingers at you lot, but yo–”

“Don’t really like to talk about it,” he interrupted, a little more briskly than he’d intended. “What’s done is done, what happened happened, what… what won’t ever happen won’t ever happen… We’ve all got to move on.”

“Right you are, cap’n!” Amy said weakly, forcing a smile. “The point is… it’s all about Seunem now, right? For the motherland, or something! Woo!”

Sam leant towards her, conspiratorially. “So, you’ve never actually been, then?”

“Nope. Couldn’t so much as point to it on a map. You?”

“Mom and dad never liked to talk about it. Barely mentioned the name more than twice to me, wouldn’t answer any questions. Initially, I just thought they really wanted to just… integrate, you know? I was nine when we came to the Candelarias, after all, it was a big enough transition between Chesapeake Bay to Albrecht, I thought they just didn’t want me hankering after yet another country, you know? But…”

“Aye. I know what you mean, though. My grandparents were the same with my folks, and me. As far as they were concerned, Seunem was dead to them. Don’t think they were ever too happy about mum and dad getting it together, they’d raised ‘em like siblings, really. And it’s not as though they made any attempt to contact any other Seunemis, apart from the four of them. God, when gran finds out I’m doing this…”

“Not going to be happy?”

“Dunno. Might start dribbling a little more frantically, maybe. Your parents…?”

“Haven’t told ‘em. It was all a bit frenetic, anyway. Barely had a chance to phone Turkish and let ‘em know I was off for a bit, last night. Don’t think anyone’s going to be overjoyed, to be honest, but… It’s the right thing for my career, at the end of the day. I’m twenty-nine, proper football ain’t coming back to C&M any time soon. It could put me in the shop window, this. Same for you. Even if we are going t’be persona non grata back home when it all gets out…”

“My sister’s pleased, mind. Sent her a photo of m’kit last night,” Amy said, passing her mobile across the seat towards him. “She’s well jealous. She could be here now, if she hadn’t plumped for netball…”

“Is that what we’re wearing? Red and white stripes?”

“You’ll forget you’re not still playing for Turkish if you’re not careful, aye. ‘Cept yours won’t have ‘Amy’ on the back, obvs.”

“That’s your Cafundelense-style nickname? Really?”

She stuck out a tongue. “We’ve all got our first names on the shirts. Don’t ask me why. I guess GOSCARD-MAGDALEN would’ve cost too much for a nascent Football Association. You’ll want this, by the way, if you haven’t had it already,” she went on, pulling two crumpled sheets of paper from the depths of her carry-on luggage. “National anthem. No idea about the tune, but I’m sure we’ll pick it up from the locals.”

“It’s in Comic Sans…”

“Aye, not an inspiring start, is it? Couldn’t make head nor tail of it, m’self. Can’t be too many national anthems that start… what was it…?”

“‘O, Winstan Joseph a’ Jent was he’?”

“Yeah. That.”

“What’s a ‘sucky brother’ when it’s at home?”

“Let me know when you get to the line about the pint of piss, or whatever it is… Oh, yeah. We’re the Prancing Cart Horses, by the way. Says it on the back.” Amy waited for a splutter of indignation that failed to materialise. She raised an eyebrow, impressed. “You’ve taken that revelation better than expected, I must say…”

The striker blinked himself a little further back into cogency. “The… Prancing? Prancing Cart Horses?”

“Or not…”

“Prancing? Really? Surely ‘rampant’ at the very least…”

“An error in translation? They… they do speak English in Seunem, though. Don’t they?”

“Um… Yes?”

Amy laughed. “Oh, jaysus! We really are the crappest excuses for international footballers ever. We’re going to look like proper frauds as far as the natives in the squad are concerned.”

“Makes it all the weirder that he’s gone and picked me as captain. He really thinks the proper Seunemis are going to have any respect for someone who doesn’t even know the damned anthem? And prancing, seriously?”

“It could be worse. We could be him,” Amy said, nodding across and up the aisle.

For the first time since regaining some semblance of consciousness, Samson let his eyes scan over their fellow travellers. They were a mixed bunch – mostly Candelariasian Mangolanans, he assumed, if there were such a thing, alongside more than a few huddled families whose skin tones suggested origins in the Yorozuya and Djocoranga. Probably going for ever, some of them, Sam supposed. Finally jacking it in, deciding that the Candelariasian dream, if there was such a thing, just wasn’t worth it any more. He couldn’t blame them, either. Truth be told, he wasn’t at all sure he wasn’t one of them.

He followed Amy’s sharp, pointing nose towards its intended target. A young man, looking barely more than fifteen, stared intensely out at the world behind an acne peppered with face. Clocking Sam’s gaze he blushed, possibly, and gave the older man a bracey grin.

Sam began a desperate search of his brain sack before his addled memory sauntered lazily forward to point out the child’s own travelling companion.

“Uhm… Carl, isn’t it? Carl Tubman?”

“Kyle Taubmann,” the man said cheerfully, holding out a large hand that stretched about a tenth of the distance between himself and Sam before withdrawing it. “Reckon you scored past me a couple of times, back in the day. For the ressies, mainly.”

“Aye. Hi. And, um, you’re now…?”

“Smudgers goalkeeping coach, mate. After a fashion. Not much call for it now. Mostly spend my days counting my dwindling coffers and lecturing the local kids on the perils of… well, everything, really. Big on perils, this ‘community club’ stuff.”

Sam nodded. Such was life of a member of a CMSC club’s backroom staff, post-CMSC.

“And this, more to the point, is our George.”

“‘lo,” offered the George, in conjunction with a grunting, tumbledown laugh of a singularly unclear purpose. Sam nodded once more in sympathy.

“George Gjorgjinski,” Taubmann prattled on, oblivious to the foul looks bestowed upon him by several fellow passengers. “Brightest star of the AFC MN Smith academy, Samson lad, and that’s saying something as you well know. He’d be a C&M senior in six, seven years… no doubt about it. Don’t tell him I said that, though!”

“Hur-hur-hm-mm,” George gurgled dutifully, offering Sam an expression that screamed ‘I’m fifteen, please throw me out of the emergency exit’.

“All the talent in the world, and, more to the point, his nanna’s from… out there. Yer Seunem place.”

“Nn’s frm Snm,” George expounded, grinning hopelessly.

“You… don’t fancy waiting for a C&M call-up, then?” Sam asked, directing the question more in the rotund former lower league goalkeeper’s general direction.

“Nah. It’s not going to happen, is it? Let’s be honest. That era’s long gone. It’s an experience, this! And yer doin’ it for yer nanna, aren’t you, lad?”

“Dn’t fr mnna, yeh.”

“And he’s learnt the anthem, an’ everything, haven’t you Georgey lad?” Taubmann added, proudly. “G’waan, give us a burst! Ohhhhhh, Winstan Joseph a’ Jeet was ‘eeee, go on! Got a lovely voice, his mum says, our George.”

Hot panic spread across Gjorgjinski’s face and down his arms like the Somewhereistonian army sweeping into Kyrinskaia. ‘Oh fer fuck’s sake’, Sam’s inner adolescent mind translated for him, ‘Not in front of Samson Patris and Bavent! Oh, this is worse than me bar mitzvah’.

“And you, Kyle?” Amy, seemingly sensing the mood and looking up from her Tourist Guide to Mangolana, hurriedly interjected. “You got hidden Seunemi ancestry we haven’t got wind about too?”

“Me? Nah, luv. Nor Jules over there,” he added, pointing towards a snoozing figure behind him. “Julian Kelly, MN Smith physio. Nah, what it was, see, yer man Merryment ‘n’ Paschal over there appeared the other week offering our lad George a place on the squad, right? And, we-ell… I thought I’d just ask him if there were any other jobs going, like. Goalkeeping coach, physio, y’know… The specialist roles. And bugger me with a skittle if our plane tickets don’t turn up the very next morning! Proper vote of confidence, that. No doubt he did his research, eh George? Also,” Taubmann added, with a touch more reticence, “This one’s mum’d give us ruddy hell to pay if he travelled off darn sarf without a chapperoon.”

“Mmm’d gvs…”

“…entle… how d’you turn this thing on again? Ladies and gentlemen, and genderqueers, yes, thank you Dave, I just thought I’d liven up proceedings a twinkle by pointing out that if you look to your left… or… right… you can now see the city of Princetown, née the city of Chekacaster, formerly the city of Chekasov, and thus providing a fine illustration of the essential futility of the lives of man when even something as fundamentally steadfast as a city can be subjected to such a transient existence and brittle identity…”

“Aren’t we nearly there yet?” Sam groaned, taking the opportunity to settle gratefully back into his seat.

“Ah, there we go. The temporal instability has caught up with us at last.” Amy turned as she put her phone away, and offered a squirming George a little wave.

“That was wantonly cruel,” Sam hissed at her, grinning.

“Yeah. I used to chop worms in half as a girl, one has to keep one’s eye in. He makes you think though, don’t he?”

“About the standard of the Seunemi league, if the likes of him get a call-up? Yeah,” the striker, who had been thinking that very thing, nodded. “I guess Mr Thomas knows what he’s doing, though…”

“Yeah. Must do, definitely. I mean, yes he’s from a piddling little country even three of its own internationals have barely heard of, bu-uh-ut… His knowledge of the international game’s bound to be better than ours these days, innit? I’ve barely watched a match in twelve months.”

“Sure. I haven’t even looked to see who we’re playing,” Sam told her cheerfully, pleased to take fulsome part in a confessional orgy of ineptitude.

“I did check. Fixtures aren’t out ‘till tomorrow.”

“Oh. How do we know we’re playing in Mangolana, then?”

Amy shrugged. “We’ve been tipped the wink, I guess. There’s probably hot balls and stuff, to stop all the best sides, yer Kytlerians and Tamarind…indian…dians… being in one country and the dregs like us in t’other.” She smiled, without complete conviction this time. “I’m sure Mr Thomas knows what he’s doing…”

*wumph*

Sam yawned and stretched. “Right. Toilet.”

*skklppupupupluppup*

“Is that an offer?”

“No! You stay right where you are, wummun. And if I’m not back in five minutes, assume I’ve regressed to an infant form. I nicked a captain’s armband from the Turkish dressing room, you can take it from m’luggage if needs be.”

“Aw,” Amy crooned, placing a hand to her heart as the striker squeezed past her, “‘Preciate the vote of confidence, skip…”

“To give to Georgey-boy, I mean, obviously. Poor lad couldn’t do a worse job at it than me,” he added, wombling sleepily, uneasily, away.

“Ladies and gentlemen, and those awkward buggers who can’t make up there minds… This is your captain, blah-blah-blah. Do not be alarmed by that there thumping noise you may’ve just heard, we think it were just a Cotdelapomais goose being sucked into the engine… Occupational hazard, further down south you go. Do not mourn for him, he had the right idea if you ask me, he’s in a better place. Frankly, if I wasn’t flying this damned crate, I’d be right there with him. Peace…”

by **Seunem** » Sun Oct 02, 2011 11:38 am

Spotlight On… Seunem Comfortably the least well-known of the nine Rushmori nations competing in Mangolana and Qazox; the Prancing Cart Horses are the first Seunemi outfit to make any impact in international sport. With no evidence of a functioning domestic league; unknown, locally-reared head coach Merrytent and Paschal (no, we’ve no idea either… but by the looks of things they’ll be having their first names on the backs of their shirts in any case) names a squad entirely sourced from overseas, mostly from our own dear region.

Not that that leaves us any the wiser, with the twenty-three boasting little in the way of UICA, or even top flight, experience, and filled out with more than a handful of amateurs in the truest sense of the word. Not to mention the fact that at least one or two of these non-entities appear to have only the most dubious connections to the forgotten land they now represent.

Travelling Party…

Manager: Thomas Merrytent and Paschal
Assistant Manager: Maxim Frunzorşa
Goalkeeping Coach: Kyle Taubmann [Candelaria And Marquez]
Physio: Julian Kelly [Candelaria And Marquez]

1. Eirik Passante-Smallbone - GK - 22 - Okhotsk Kholmsk Town FC [Polar Islandstates]
13. Roberto Miguel Pavón Milpond - GK - 32 - Loco Loco [Sargossa]
23. Kiena Sixpence - GK - 23 - [f] - Liberty Belles [Delamawaria]

2. Jerem Samder and Tumblers - DR/L - 18 - SC Avenion [Chenkorya]
12. Sten Smackfish and Stuffcoat - DR - 22 - SC Filwarfin [Pasarga]
5. Viktor Ribak - DC/DM - 22 - Providence [Mytannion]
6. Bogoslav Toysoldier - DC - 39 - FK Trunca [Mytannion]
19. Austin Vane and Woodknock - DC - 24 - 1976 Nanticoke [Chesapeake Bay]
3. Amy Goscard-Magdalen - DL - 25 - [f] - Unattached [Candelaria And Marquez]
21. Lowis Samder and Tumblers - DL/ML - 26 - SC Avenion [Chenkorya]

7. Tutain Germain and Bohan - MR - 19 - Thessia FC [Mytannion]
17. Saoirse Sunshine - MR/CM - 19 - [f] - Sporting Norhandryun [Sorthern Northland]
4. Thome Devero - DM - 26 - Ranford & Willsbrook [The Kytler Peninsulae]
16. Costin Kennedy and Snade - DM/DC - 28 - FK Mortingham [Virabia]
8. Andrion Customers - AM - 20 - St. Patrick’s Athletic [Sorthern Northland]
18. Ezechias Sa’an’tin and Evesbadnes - AM/MR/FW - 18 - Unattached [Branta Aboriginal Protectorates]
22. Harding Steavan-hall and Brown - MC - 27 - Rotor. Dzinkagrad [Mytannion]
11. Tony Finnegan - ML - 27 - St. Patrick’s Athletic [Sorthern Northland]
20. Juri Sadowsky - ML/MR/FW - 18 - Zenit Toranj FC [Mytannion]

9. Diego Fernández - FW - 24 - Puerto Cabezas SC [Sargossa]
10. George Gjorgjinski - FW - 16 - AFC MN Smith [Candelaria And Marquez]
14. Freskin Mobec and Aune - FW - 30 - Huntscove Harriers [Sorthern Northland]
15. Samson Patris and Bavent - FW - 29 - [C] - Albrecht Turkish [Candelaria And Marquez]

Scouting Report… The one training session in Qazox City we were able to get a look-see at before we went to press (and, by the looks of it, the only one this group of inexplicably late arrivals have been able to have so far) suggests we can be treated to a spectacularly bog-standard 4-4-2… but beyond that it’s anyone’s guess, not least that of this hastily assembled group of players themselves. Of utmost importance will be the performances and experience of Turkish’s very own Patris and Bavent, sure to attract Candelariasian interest alongside tricksy Smudgers academy starlet Gjorgjinski and journeywoman full-back Goscard-Magdalen, but for how much will Samson’s TQCC runs of years past count after all this time in the footballing wilderness?

Reports from Sargossan Cormino – achieved, may we stress, at considerable expense and alongside at least one case of hepatitis C – suggest that stevedore Fernández’s selection is down to extreme pace and absolutely nothing else, and neither he nor the captain, young George or the somewhat embonpoint Freskin will be able to rely on much in the way of service unless Globe Cup bound St. Pat’s star Finnegan can repeat his domestic cup heroics. Merrytent and Paschal looks likely to make use of two holding midfielders, one a semi-pro Virabi the other supposedly part of a promotion winning side in the Peninsulae last term, though we’re buggered if we can find his name on their website (which has lots of flashing clipart and a hit counter, bless it. We’re not wholly convinced they’re not a firm of solicitors in any case), and just how far away from the Kytlerian squad must he be? Twelfth choice? Fifteenth? Thirtieth?

Oh, and they’ll need those holding midfielders if what we’ve seen of the back four is anything to go by – a centre-half two years retired and only just the right side of forty, a benchwarmer at a mid-table side in Pasarga, a lad who’s only just turned up from lord-knows-where in Chenkorya… and a big chunk of beef from the Chesapeakine league. Heaven help them, because their ‘keeper from the fourth Polarian division certainly won’t.

Verdict… Unpredictability of the BoF, blah blah, full of surprises, blah, history of upsets, yaddah yaddah… Playing in experienced international footballing nations may give some of this lot a tiny bit of an edge during, let’s say, the first five minutes of the opening game or two. But after that? Impossible to predict anything other than a group stage exit and, based on the complete absence of travelling support we’ve observed thus far, Seunem look set fair to be one campaign wonders.

Kits Provided by MytaStar Sportswear

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Style Modifier: -2

by **Rouge Pioneers** » Sun Oct 02, 2011 12:09 pm

Rouge Pioneers are proud to announce their involvement in the BoF. We are sending a 20 man team to the tournament, with a mixture of young talent and wise heads. The squad list is:

Code: Select all: # Name Age Position Other Info 1 Max Derry 23 GK 2 Josh Herbinor 32 DF 3 Damien Gerney 30 DF 4 Orlio Descri 25 DF 5 David Smith 24 MF 6 Felix Coca 31 MF 7 Sarriaho Demini 19 MF 8 Zak Hill 32 FW 9 Ben Blue 18 FW 10 John Ryans 21 FW 11 Tim Harvard 33 FW 12 Edward Ford 20 GK 13 Dylan Davis 26 DF 14 Serni Di-Agino 30 DF 15 Doninic Tillier 25 DF 16 Michael Wordsmith 36 MF 17 Xavier Herrin 29 MF 18 Andy Lysanderson 26 FW 19 Danny Zarlion 25 FW 20 Alex Harper 40 GK Manager The first 11 players normally start, with Hill as a (Attacking) Midfielder. Formation:3-4-3

The team are also going to wear a striking kit, predominatly black, but with a rainbow pattern on it:

More info to come later.

Style Modifier +5

Choose my goalscorers Y (Please note that most goals are scored by my strikers)
Godmod scoring events N
RP injuries to my players Y (Please don't injure the younger players for long periods of time)
Godmod injuries to my players N
Hand out yellow cards to my players Y
Hand out red cards to my players N
Godmod other events N

by **Euskirribakondara** » Sun Oct 02, 2011 3:15 pm

Euskirribakondararen Nazionaren Futbola Taldea
Equip National de Balpied d'Euskirribakondara

Choose my goalscorers                   Yes (FW normal goals... MD for weird goals) 
Godmod scoring events                   Yes (Preferible weird)
RP injuries to my players               Yes (Not so hard, though... REALISTIC)
Godmod injuries to my players           No
Hand out yellow cards to my players     Yes
Hand out red cards to my players        (TG first)
Godmod other events                     Yes (Better if you TG, and we both do that)

by **Brendino the 3rd** » Sun Oct 02, 2011 3:28 pm

Brendino the 3rd Roster
Modifier: +2

Brendino the 3rd hopes to make a competive run at the 44th BoF tournament. Says captain WIlliam Fleming, "We're a young team, but we have a lot of talent and hope to prove it."

My opponent, if they RP first, may do the following:

by **Ponoka** » Sun Oct 02, 2011 7:37 pm

The Ponkoka Football Association is proud to announce their roster and jerseys for BoF 44.

Starting 11
GK#1 John King
DF#6 Walter Young
DF#3 Oliver Crawford
DF#4 Alex Papadopoulos
DF#5 Ryan O'Sullivan
MF#11 Henry Karlsson
MF#8 David Laurent
MF#18 Carl Richards
MF#10 Tyreke Taylor
FW#9 Jakub Vesely
FW#15 Alexandre Leblanc

Bench
GK#40 Larry Taylor
DF#2 Jon O'Reilly
DF#7 Bryan Quincy
DF#22 Daniel Greco
MF#33 Frank Vos
MF#12 Aaron Prince
MF#20 Vince Johnson
FW#19 Terence Jones

Ponoka's jerseys for the BoF will be:

Style Modifier +1
Choose my goalscorers Y
Godmod scoring events Y
RP injuries to my players N
Godmod injuries to my players N
Hand out yellow cards to my players Y
Hand out red cards to my players N
Godmod other events Y

by **Thatius** » Sun Oct 02, 2011 8:40 pm

New Bruxen, Qazox
8:11 A.M.

"Guten Morgen meine Damen und Herrn. Jetzt sind wir in Qazox, und das Wetter ist schön und sonnig. Wir sind froh, dass Sie uns entscheiden für Ihre Reise haben. Auf Wiedersehen, und viel Glück, wo Sie gehen."

"Uhh...what did the flight attendant just say?" said a sleepy-eyed Julian Irakli, after he emerged from his deep slumber.

Next to him his friend, Jürgen Burgsmüller, replied: "She said that we have arrived in Qazox and the weather is pretty nice. Look outside your window."

"No!" replied Julian, after hitting away Jürgen's hand that was trying to open the window. "I want to go back to sleep, we should have never flown GerTha Air to Qazox. It might have been a cheap flight, but so many noisy babies aboard the plane. I wish my headphones were actually decent and blocked out noise."

"Oh, sorry Mr. Vampire. I just wanted to see the nice view that we had. Maybe instead of watching Deception, The Deadly Gallows, and The Beagle, you should have been sleeping. The whole plane was dead quiet when they were watching a movie, but then got loud when it was time to sleep."

"Yeah, yeah." said Julian. "Let's hope the hotel is comfortable. And the food much better than this airline crap."

"Shh!" interjected Jürgen as one of the flight attendants was walking down the isle.

"Whatever. Let them hear about the bad service they have. Then they'll improve for next time."

Jürgen glared. "It's not their fault they have to work 13 hour shifts in a cramped environment and serve food that the company gave to them."

"Yes, it actually is. They signed up for the job in the first place." Julian answered.

"Well looks like we're de-planing now. Get your gear and let's get off before the rest of the team leaves without us. I'm so jealous that they were upgraded to first class and we were stuck with the crying babies. 'Oh sorry, we're actually out of seats in first class, as we only have room for nine more.' What a bunch of BS. At least the coaches weren't given the best spots."

Jürgen and Julian get up, grab their backpacks and carry-on, then proceed to file out slowly behind the rest of the crowd. They enter the customs and passport control place, where they get their passports stamped.

"Oh nice, first stamp on my passport." said Julian.

"You've never been out of the country?" asked Jürgen suspiciously. "You play on an international team, but you've never even gone to Ithadi? Nor Slovekistan? Give me a break."

"I wish I had a break," Julian said stubbornly. "I don't get vacation as often as you might think. Oh look, here's the baggage carousel. And the rest of the team with their bags, how lovely."

"Hey Julia and Jürge! About damn time you joined us. We've been sitting here for a while." shouted Cédric Montello, one of loudest players on the team, but also one of the best players.

"Cool Cédric. Glad that you have finally learned the skill of patience. We'll need it for the match in two days. We're playing Seunem, right?"

"Yup," said Novák Prakusya, the goalie and backbone of the team. "Ignore Céd and let's get to focusing on our match that we have in two days."

The fourteen players and three staff members of the Thatian team gathered their luggage and then proceed to find the shuttle to the hotel. Onboard the shuttle, Coach Varenkov was giving out room assignments.

'How the hell do we already have rooms for the hotel? We haven't even checked in.' thought Julian.

"Irakli, you and Szrolzek are together in Room 431. Burgsmüller you and Petzschner in 432......"

'Seriously, I'm with Szrolzek?' thought Julian, while staring outside the window. He then proceeded to give Will a friendly smile, then turned back towards the view. 'At least I'm not with snoring Petszchner like Jürgen is, haha.'

The shuttle stopped at the hotel. It was a nice establishment, about fifteen floors, and an indoor pool and sauna. The hotel manager came out and personally greeted every player on the team, welcoming them to the hotel and Qazox. No one was really in the mood to talk after the flight, and left for their the elevator to their rooms.

"Woah, woah, wait a minute guys." said Coach Varenkov. "One quick team meeting before you go upstairs. Alright, listen. Our first match is in two days. Today, go ahead and get adjusted to the time difference. Sleep until whenever. But tomorrow morning, Qazox time, you're getting up at 7:30 in the morning for some quick practice and stretching before we head out. I want absolutely no foolishness going on. That includes drinking, as I know you guys of German and Austrian heritage love to drink your beer. None of that for tonight, tomorrow, and the rest of the tournament. Save it when you get back home in Thatius and have nothing else to do. This is serious, because this can make us or break us for the World Cup. Do you really want to let the 3.6 billion fellow citizens of yours down? No, I don't think so. So tomorrow morning, we're practicing. Tonight, go relax, take a swim in the pool, check out the gym for a bit, whatever. Just no foolishness. Alright, you're dismissed."

Julian and Will received their keys to the room and headed up one of the six elevators, also accompanied by a few teammates who couldn't fit in the first two elevators that came down. They all got off the fourth floor, and walked to their rooms. The two roommates opened the door with the key, and rushed to plop on separate beds.

'Hey Will, do you mind if I sleep in this bed? It's easier for me because the air conditioning vent is right next to this."

"Yeah, no problem." replied Will.

"Great. Now it's time to go to sleep. That flight was horrific, can you ask coach to book us a different airlines for the next trip home?"

But Will had already fallen asleep himself.

"Oh well...whatever."

by **Gyatso-kai** » Sun Oct 02, 2011 9:38 pm

"Ibic ven'cuyi nun'la" spoke the voice at the back of the bus. It was a large bus, filled to the brim with people all in various states of exercise wear, so the voice could have been anyone.

Save those words not in basic... That narrowed the field down a bit.

"Alright," shouted a man at the front of the bus. Standing, his eyes scanned the seats before him, making eye contact with nearly everyone of the men occupying those seats. "Who spoke it? Fess up. Ne'cuyi hut'uun, ad'ike."

In his early forties, the man speaking could still quiet and intimidate the men half his age who surrounded him... and with good reason. He still had the body of a soldier --- a man who fought daily --- yet he had been a coach for years and years. His face showed the scars of life, wrinkles embedded deep in the flesh, and his eyes, though aged, still shone with great passion.

A young man stood in the back of the bus, his head lowered. The older man at the front just sighed.

"Quyen," spoke the man, shaking his head. "That had better been a comment of happiness as opposed to sarcasm."

"N'eparavu takisit, Bo'buir... I was just venting..."

While Coach Boba Vhett was a strong-willed man, he understood the demons his starting OM faced and he could not help but be a father here.

"Ne'baatir, ad'ika. Just relax, alright? We are going to the stadium a little early for some light practice runs. Once we do that, a quick shower, change, a little Vode An and we go out and play a great game."

The bus gave a quick and sudden cheer before resuming their quiet ride. All seemed well...

Once the final whistle blows, we shall see how 'well' things truly are.

by **Arcatea** » Mon Oct 03, 2011 8:23 am

Republic of Arcatea- The Arcatean Sports Comission has officially announced its Roster for the Upcoming Baptism of Fire and World Cup. The ASC has been very quiet since its creation and announcement of its admission to the World Cup and BoF, but it has been completely consumed with the search for its Coach. This morning the ASC announced it has hired Marvin Glove as the Manager of the Arcatean National team. Glove is formerly the head coach of University of Mason River Men’s Soccer/Futball team, which has won 5 consecutive Arcatean National Collegiate Association(ANCA) Championships. Glove will be bringing his Assistant Coach, Trevor Rush, from Mason River.

Along with this announcement the ASC also revealed the National Team’s Uniforms and Nickname. The Arcatean team should be called the Phoenix (Its National Animal) and it’s Kit includes a Red and a Black Jersey, with the Goalie wearing Yellow. UnderArmor is now the Official apparel company for the Arcatean National team.

Due to the lack of a Professional league in Arcatea, many of the players for the National team are University students, as most Arcatean’s with skill have moved to other countries to compete for other professional teams. The ASC hopes that the success of the Arcatean National team will lead to the founding of a professional league after the BoF and World Cup.

Starting Roster
GK #1- Mike Wilson- 24. Former Mason River Player, His Final Season he did not allow a single goal the entire season.
DF #12- Reggie Johnson- 35. Former Successful College Player, but has not played in 12 years
DF #7- Tom Price- 23, won Best Defender award in most recent ANCA season.
DF #5- Hank Delphane- 21. Current player at the University of Smithson
DF# 20- Chris Orion- 25. Former player at Ritslane College.
MF#17- Ernie Glove- 20, Manager’s son, 2-time ANCA MVP
MF#4- Owen Man-26- Current Assistant coach at University of Mason River
MF#6- Prince Elman-24- Former player at Wicklane University
FW#2- Yanson Milrick- 17- Professional Player, has bounced from team to team, many say he has reached his peak at a young age.
FW#27- Frank Valery- 20- Current Player at Mason River, holds record for most goals in a season in the ANCA.
FW#14- Bill Ziremen-21- Current player at Wicklane University.

Reserves
GK-Rick Hale- 30
DF#30-Nick Cole- 23
DF#10-Grant Calvin-21
MF#3-Lee Sung-29
FW#11-Craig Deal- 19

Choose my goalscorers Y
Godmod scoring events N
RP injuries to my players Y
Godmod injuries to my players N
Hand out yellow cards to my players Y
Hand out red cards to my players N
Godmod other events N

by **Tal Vararr** » Mon Oct 03, 2011 11:21 am

“Señores, amigos, I chose each of you for the football you carry in your hearts.”

Coach Viene Buenonotte paused for a moment to look around the dressing room, looking each player in the eye before continuing.

“This day, it is each of you that is carried in the heart of every Tal Vararri, be they waiting for you in this stadium or crowded around a television set in a cafe back home. Each of you must carry their hearts as your own. Señores, amigos, hermanos, today you are united in hope with every one of your countrymen. Today, you are not alone.”

The youngest member of the squad, Éver Prometa, looked up in wonder as the sound of drums and trumpets began in the stands above. The Mellizo brothers looked at each other, and each held out a handkerchief to the other. Even Scudetto and Innocente, uncompromising in their defensive play, did not try to hide the emotion on their faces, but clapped each other on the shoulders. Gabriel Angel de Firenze, with a tear on his cheek, rose to face his coach, taking Buenonotte's forearm firmly in his, then throwing his other arm around him in an embrace.

Diez began to sing along with the crowd above them then, and soon every member of the squad was dancing in a circle, Buenonotte included. Then, with a final verse questioning the parentage of the opposition and declaring that they, as Tal Vararr itself, would be victorious, the coach nodded to Diez.

Diez stepped forward and took the armband from Buenonotte.

“It's time, Capitan. Lead them out.”

by **Mangolana** » Mon Oct 03, 2011 4:31 pm

Just giving a heads up, a little less than an Hour till our first RP cut-off, and here are the names of Mangolana's groups

Ordonez Group
Camwood
Trimasia
Mapletish
Tal Vararr
Gyatso-kai
Arcatea

Montgomery Group
New Gaelicia
Tryienne
Nicole Scherzinger
Eggy216
Wadomia
Osesnsasandaes
The Vuhifellian States

Shogun Group
Iphmopf
Freezingland
Lonaga
Greater Coventry
The Peterwood Estate
Braxil

Jimenez Group
The Golden Tamarind
Hladio Huggers
Miley World
Cygning
Hippostania
Rouge Pioneers
Ohio Island

MD1 Stadia

Ordonez Group- Mascona Memorial Stadium
Montgomery Group- Republic Stadium
Shogun Group- Mangolanites Stadium
Jimenez Group- Citizens Payed Stadium

by **Euskirribakondara** » Mon Oct 03, 2011 4:46 pm

Euskirribakondararen Nazionaren Futbola Taldea
Equip National de Balpied d'Euskirribakondara

The ENFT (Euskirribakondararen Nazionaren Futbola Taldea) has arrived to SaxerVilla, Qazox. This city will be the headquarters of the ENFT, because the Euskal team will play 2 of 5 matches in this city. Therefore, to make everything easier; the BFL (Balen Futbola Ligoa) arranged everything for the team to be settled in this wonderful city of Qazox.

Today, in the afternoon the team will play against Kazerjan, as the 'away' team. The stadium to be used is the SaxerDome, with a capacity of 91150 people. Actually, so far, a total of 45000 tickets have been issued to the Euskal fans, which came all the way from our kingdom to watch the team debut on the BoF.

The manager Serhio Markes confirmed that the main squad will play today; despite the rumour that the formation would be changed.

01 - (GK) Auro SETSEBALDEA
02 - (DF) Mahmoud AL-SHAIKHA
03 - (DF) Karl BOKSLE
04 - (DF) Ramiro XEBALDÚN
05 - (DF) Hoan Beharrok ARDILA (Captain)
06 - (MF) Ara MKRTCHYAN
07 - (MF) Xabi DARNEL (The most likely MF to score, take that in account for RP)
08 - (FW) Sargis LEIRELOASIM
09 - (FW) Mikel TXABES (The most likely FW to score, take that in account for RP)
10 - (FW) Barde ERENTXE
11 - (MF) Pavulo ARDANES

These are random comments heard in the surroundings of the SaxerDome, minutes before the game:

I've never seen the Stone Warriors play outside of our region. This will be exciting!

Hala Euskirribakondara! Hala Euskirribakondara! Guren Taldea! Our Team!

We want to see Mikel Txabes and Xabi Darnel score A LOT

My girlfriend is from Kazerjan, and we made a bet.... So...... Go Euskirribakondara

The SaxerDome looks so great!

And this was the main response of the coach, Manolo AUTXERKARREA to the interviews and other questions:

We do know that Kazerjan is no piece of cake. But the moral is high, our team wants to give its best. And that is what we are going to see from Guren Taldea. The formation will work, and hopefully we'll see a win.

by **Nicole Scherzinger** » Mon Oct 03, 2011 4:49 pm

Earlier today

"Is this thing on?" asked a clueless Madison Dervishi. "Hello? Can you hear ME?" she shouted again. The microphone screeches and everyone is covering their ears.

"MAKE IT STOP!" shouted one of the fan members in the audience.

"Oh. Sorry." Madison replied. She adjusted the mic with the help of one of the backstage members. "Ah, there we go. Y'all can hear me now, right? Good. Well, hello. All of you here are gathered because you're fans of our team and nation, Nicole Scherzinger. Thank you for coming out to support us. As team captain, I'm pleased to introduce y'all to the rest of our team. We have Goalie Diana Katheodoris, Center Defense Isabella Salazar.............and finally, Right Striker Gisèle Côté."

The crowd applauds as all eleven members of the team stand in one line, smile for the crowd, and wave to their fans.

"Alright ladies, time to get off the stage. As you know, we're participating in the Baptism of Fire, essentially the warm-up tournament to the World Cup. Hopefully we'll be good enough to get far in both tournaments, and today comes our first matchup! It's against Osesnsasandaes. Did I get that right? That was a mouthful. Anyone know if I said it right? Anyways, moving on. We are pleased to be representing Nicole Scherzinger, and thank you for coming out this morning. We just wanted to introduce you a bit to the team and know our history in football. Well, it started four years ago when the government allowed everyone to participate in sports. They actually encouraged everyone to start playing, whether it be softball, football, tennis, golf, and swimming. Now we have a fully formed team that has trained internationally, and is ready for international matches against other teams. We might be a women's team, but we play like men. We are as aggressive as they are, thanks to our society, and ready to dominate. If you thought Men were dominant in every nation, think again. In Nicole Scherzinger, the women are the one's on top. So look out for us when we're on our field. Any questions?"

"I have one!" shouted an eager crowd member.

"Yes, you in the red shirt."

"Alright, well how do you think you'll do compared to the rest of your group?" asked the fan.

"Good question. Well we have New Gaelicia, Tryienne, Eggy216, Wadomia, Osesnsasandaes, and The Vuhifellian States as our fellow group members, none of which we are familiar. This is, after all, our first international tournament as a team, so we hope to prove something to the other nations."

"So you think you'll come out top or the bottom?" cried another fan.

"We will see." replied Madison, smiling. "We can't have high expectations, but we don't think we'll leave Mangolana without a win. So just cheer for us when you're in the stadium, and try to learn our nation's chants. It feeds the energy for the team."

"Madison, do you think you'll qualify at all for the World Cup?" asked a curious girl in a blue tank-top.

"I can't be sure, but again, we'll be hopeful that we can at least achieve something. But for now, let's focus on the Baptism of Fire, and progressing through that. I think that's all the time for questions we have now, thank you so much for coming out this morning! It really means a lot to us. See you later!"

by **Cygning** » Mon Oct 03, 2011 5:16 pm

CYGNING
The Fishermen

STARTERS
Egidio Politali -- GK
Amico Coppolini -- LD
Gennaro Bianchiaparello -- RD
Innocenzio Loggio -- LM
Salvatore Robbiani -- LCM
Primo Spernabò -- CM
Ercole Turielli -- RCM
Laudolino Auriero -- RM
Giuliano Codazzatti -- LF
Agnolo Ducciolombo -- CF
Massacio Devitaliparelli -- RF

INFORMATION
Style Modifier: +4
Permissions: Do anything you want with them, go nuts. However, please bear in mind that Robbiani is the team star and, together with Codazzatti, scores the vast majority of the team's goals. The team does not use reserves, as they come from a tiny island in Lake Cygnus and there aren't enough fishermen who have picked up football in their spare time. And yes, they're all fishermen by day.

by **Mangolana** » Mon Oct 03, 2011 5:23 pm

Hey, what happens when you use profain language on the Radio? You get Cut-off! Oh well, here is our first RP cut-off of the 44th Baptism of Fire. Good luck to all

Ordonez Group
Mapletish 1-0 Arcatea
Tal Vararr 1-3 Gyatso-kai

Ordonez Standings

   Team           P W D L For Ag +/- Pts
 1 Gyatso-kai     1 1 0 0  3  1 +2  3
 2 Mapletish      1 1 0 0  1  0 +1  3
 3 Camwood        0 0 0 0  0  0 +0  0
 4 Trimasia       0 0 0 0  0  0 +0  0
 5 Arcatea        1 0 0 1  0  1 -1  0 
 6 Tal Vararr     1 0 0 1  1  3 -2  0


Montgomery Group
Tryienne 2-1 The Vuhifellian States
Nicole Scherzinger 2-1 Osesnsasandaes
Eggy216 0-1 Wadomia

Montgomery Standings

   Team                       P W D L For Ag +/- Pts
 1 Tryienne                   1 1 0 0  2  1 +1  3
 2 Nicole Scherzinger         1 1 0 0  2  1 +1  3
 3 Wadomia                    1 1 0 0  1  0 +1  3
 4 New Gaelicia               0 0 0 0  0  0 +0  0
 5 Osesnsasandaes             1 0 0 1  1  2 -1  0
 6 The Vuhifellian States     1 0 0 1  1  2 -1  0
 7 Eggy216                    1 0 0 1  0  1 -1  0

Shogun Group
Lonaga 0-2 Braxil
Greater Coventry 1-0 The Peterwood Estate

Shogun Standings

   Team                     P W D L For Ag +/- Pts
 1 Braxil                   1 1 0 0  2  0  +2  3
 2 Greater Coventry         1 1 0 0  1  0  +1  3
 3 Iphmopf                  0 0 0 0  0  0  +0  0
 4 Freezingland             0 0 0 0  0  0  +0  0
 5 The Peterwood Estate     1 0 0 1  0  1  -1  0
 6 Lonaga                   1 0 0 1  0  2  -2  0

Jimenez Group
Hladio Huggers 2-0 Ohio Island
Miley World 0-0 Rouge Pioneers
Cygning 5-4 Hippostania

Jimenez Standings

   Team                    P W D L For Ag +/- Pts
 1 Hladio Huggers          1 1 0 0  2  0  +2  3
 2 Cygning                 1 1 0 0  5  4  +1  3
 3 Miley World             1 0 1 0  0  0  +0  1
 4 Rouge Pioneers          1 0 1 0  0  0  +0  1
 5 The Golden Tamarind     0 0 0 0  0  0  +0  0
 6 Hippostania             1 0 0 1  4  5  -1  0
 7 Ohio Island             1 0 0 1  0  2  -2  0

by **Zhevalsso-zhevalsso** » Mon Oct 03, 2011 5:34 pm

Permissions: Anything that could reasonably happen in an average football match. I prefer that you keep it realistic as much as is possible. Please do not kill my players, or injure them too seriously. They will often squabble with each other, as they are composed of players from both factions of a civil war which spanned decades, but don't make them do anything "crazy" beyond that.

ZHEVALSSO-ZHEVALSSO ROSTER

FORMATION: 4-4-2 Diamond
STYLE MODIFIER: +3

COACH — Brian Cortier
Former professional football player for the Chevrin Nova and the Wolseley Mastodons of the Stachland National 
Series. Brought in by the Special Stachlandic Peacekeeping Force to train the Zhevalsso-zhevalsso national 
football squad.

Bold indicates a player starting at his position.

Green and Gold indicate whether the player is from Nekolussur-nekolussur or Lemalsso-lemalsso, the two factional 
territories that fought the nation's decades-long civil war.

GK — Valschar Mondrick		Gold
GK — Mahner Norser		Green
DEF — Nuakels Ajan		Green
DEF — Meerin Muorin		Green
DEF — Han Muriviates		Green
DEF — Telgo Tschingat		Gold
DEF — Breen Avpertal		Gold
DEF — Mick Nuotoz		Green
DEF — Swermadar Notschingo	Gold
DEF — Melver Pertridge		Green
MID — Swen Crolssa		Green
MID — Famkard Nortsch		Gold
MID — Revual Nortsch		Gold
MID — Mando Manhadar		Green
MID — Assak Olmswell		Gold
MID — Hondak Chasser		Gold
MID — Ruaket Mandritan		Green
MID — Lyschen Aboga		Green
FWD — Jimm Kelssole		Gold
FWD — Eret Dorning		Green
FWD — Buaregad Daeman		Gold
FWD — Weschar Murneve		Gold
FWD — Amjeter Rule		Green

It was like nothing Brian Cortier had ever seen, when he first set foot on the island of Zhevalsso-zhevalsso. Few Stachlanders had ever seen a city like the capital Uontozhan-uontozhan—suffering from urban decay, political corruption, and racially-motivated violence between local gangs of Nekolussuroi and Lemalssoi. And yet, Cortier was told that this was the most peaceful region of the island—the only city where the two racial groups of the island were willing to live together. Everywhere else, Cortier was told, was either a single homogenous ethnic group sequestered deep within the western or eastern reaches of the nation, fearing outsiders above all else, or one of the border provinces, where anarchy reigned and the peacekeepers—both the forty thousand-strong Special Stachlandic Peacekeeping Force and the native volunteers—could do little to slow the violence.

He was there to try to mend that divide between the two peoples, as much as he could. But Cortier was only a football player, a former goalkeeper in Stachland's National Series—he had no coaching experience, and even if he did, being a football coach did not equate with being a peacekeeper. He was promised that armed guards would be stationed nearby at all team practices, and that both the Nekolussuroi and the Lemalssoi on the squad had promised to be respectful, of both each other and Cortier himself. But he, like any Stachlander would be, was hesitant to live in a country where violence was accepted as part of the daily routine. One of the most terrifying moments of Cortier's life was when he had to learn to wield a firearm.

The hotel where he was staying was luxurious by Zhevalssoi standards, though it would have been considered merely adequate in comfort-minded Stachland. His players were primarily from Uontozhan-uonthozhan itself, and the few that were from more distant provinces had already been established in apartments throughout the city. They would be gathering at the practice pitch near the central square now, waiting for Cortier. He would meet them there soon—accompanied by an armed escort. That was the way in Zhevalsso-zhevalsso.

He feared for his life. More than that, Cortier feared for the lives of his fellow Stachlanders, and the lives of all the Zhevalssoi that would be lost if this uneasy peace were to ever be broken.

by **Qazox** » Mon Oct 03, 2011 7:06 pm

What do you do to an overgrown tree?

you CUTOFF the dead branches.

The MD1 scores for the Qazox region will be up shortly.

by **Qazox** » Mon Oct 03, 2011 7:19 pm

Club Group
Brendino the 3rd 0–2 Zhevalsso-zhevalsso
Zoobians 0–1 Carmadin
Byes: Thatius/Seunum

Club Group              Pld   W  D  L   GF  GA  GD  Pts 
1 Zhevalsso-zhevalsso     1   1  0  0    2   0  +2    3
2 Carmadin                1   1  0  0    1   0  +1    3
3 Seunum                  0   0  0  0    0   0  --    0
  Thatius                 0   0  0  0    0   0  --    0
5 Zoobians                1   0  0  1    0   1  −1    0
6 Brendino the 3rd        1   0  0  1    0   2  −2    0

Diamond Group
Côte de Platine 2–0 Dixie Provinces
Triimoria 2–0 Yiland
Howdeellow 0–0 Skalholt
Bye: The Kytler Peninsulae

Diamond Group           Pld   W  D  L   GF  GA  GD  Pts 
1 Côte de Platine         1   1  0  0    2   0  +2    3
  Triimoria               1   1  0  0    2   0  +2    3
3 Howdeellow              1   0  1  0    0   0   0    1
  Skalholt                1   0  1  0    0   0   0    1
4 The Kytler Peninsulae   0   0  0  0    0   0  --    0
6 Dixie Provinces         1   0  0  1    0   2  −2    0
  Yiland                  1   0  0  1    0   2  −2    0

Heart Group
Chuckio 1–1 Lymantatia
Garon-Averia 1–2 Krumbia
Ponoka 1–1 Puttania
Bye: Ipeland

Heart Group             Pld   W  D  L   GF  GA  GD  Pts 
1 Krumbia                 1   1  0  0    2   1  +1    3
2 Chuckio                 1   0  1  0    1   1   0    1
  Lymantatia              1   0  1  0    1   1   0    1
  Ponoka                  1   0  1  0    1   1   0    1
  Puttania                1   0  1  0    1   1   0    1
6 Ipeland                 0   0  0  0    0   0  --    0
7 Garon-Averia            1   0  0  1    1   2  −1    0

Spade Group
Kazerjan 0–2 Euskirribakondara
Beldonia 3–3 Megadia
Byes: Blutreiger and Deep Freid Bacon

Spade Group             Pld   W  D  L   GF  GA  GD  Pts 
1 Euskirribakondara       1   1  0  0    2   0  +2    3
2 Beldonia                1   0  1  0    3   3   0    1
  Megadia                 1   0  1  0    3   3   0    1
4 Blutreiger              0   0  0  0    0   0  --    0
  Deep Freid Bacon        0   0  0  0    0   0  --    0
6 Kazerjan                1   0  0  1    0   2  −2    0

Baptism of Fire 44 Everything thread.

Group Draw for the 44th BoF

Scheduling for the 44th BoF

Game 1 at Tal Varrar

Qazox region MD 1 Scores/standings

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