And Then... Nothing
by Jimmy Costello
by Miskatonic University » Wed Mar 14, 2012 9:47 am
by Miskatonic University » Wed Mar 14, 2012 10:39 am
by Sixteen Bits » Wed Mar 14, 2012 11:05 am
Wight 1-0 Olastor
Friend-Forsaken 51’
Tommy Woodroffe the drunken sports anchor at the Wightling World Service summarised the action at Spit Lawns thus:
Far from convincing, Con!
Wight 1-0 Olastor
Friend-Forsaken 51’
Tommy Woodroffe the drunken sports anchor at the Wightling World Service summarised the action at Spit Lawns thus:
Far from convincing, Con!
To which the dead analyst Con Houlihan replied, “in a word Tommy?
Quite.”
by Miskatonic University » Wed Mar 14, 2012 11:20 am
by Miskatonic University » Wed Mar 14, 2012 11:23 am
by Miskatonic University » Wed Mar 14, 2012 11:26 am
by Miskatonic University » Wed Mar 14, 2012 11:29 am
by Miskatonic University » Thu Mar 15, 2012 8:57 am
Wight 4-0 Mangolana
Skewes 18’ Rodda 26’ MacKenzie 56’ Fosse-Gordon 79’
Tommy Woodroffe the drunken sports anchor at the Wightling World Service summarised the action at Spit Lawns thus:
Much more convincing, Con!
To which the analyist Con Houlihan replied – “In a word, Tommy?
“It’s a midfield masterclass from Wight as all four across the middle of the park get on the scoresheet, at a time when our strikers look surprisingly out of sorts. A potentially tricky fixture against a team that were surprise qualifiers last time out, Wight put the doubts of the previous unconvincing win behind them to outplay, outrun and outgun the Mangoes. Man of the match undoubtedly was Ia Rodda who has stepped up to fill the tragic and overly large hole left by Big John Corfe-Sheviock, and looks fearsome as the man just behind the strikers. Once again the defence looked impervious, not a common feature of Wightling teams over the years, but the three Bedsit Rovers of Boyle, Cabel and Friend-Forsaken have been together so long now they have an almost telepathic understanding of one another, and you would have to say new boy Etienne Gynn looks the final piece in the jigsaw at the back. All we need is the strikers to start firing and we might be world beaters, Tommy.”
That’s right, Con, as we were last time around!
“We were, Tommy, we were. World Champions, exactly."1
Free South Califas 0-2 Wight
Skewes 24’ Falcon 90+4’
Tommy Woodroffe the drunken sports anchor at the Wightling World Service summarised the action at Spit Lawns thus:
A solid away performance in the first game on the road for Wight and the goals have gone to the youngsters, with left winger Argon Skewes hitting his second in two games to cap an impressive start to this competition, and Israel Falcon the first striker to score this time around. Once again it was an impressive defensive base to work from with Piran MacKenzie enjoying a starring role in front of the back four neutralising the Califan strike force. A third consecutive clean sheet matches the Wight record and the Sondry Folk will hope to break that in the fourth match against, well, could be anybody, if the fixture list is to be believed, Con.
To which the analyist Con Houlihan replied – “In a word, Tommy?
“A bit harsh. A bit harsh, Tommy.”
All’s fair in love and football, someone once told me, Con. I think it was a Syndicatian telephonist, if memory serves me correct.
“You had a fling with a Syndi, Tommy?”
Let’s not air our dirty washing on air, Con. Now, what about those fellows at the Wightling Community Football Channel in Bjarnarey?
“Amateurs, Tommy. Complete amateurs. Not even the right shaped ball. And if anyone should know their balls from their prolate spheroids, it would be the Valhallans.”
Aren’t we all, though? Technically, at least? Amateurs, I mean?
Wight vs Kintratar
Team: Quentine / Boyle, Cabel, Friend-Forsaken, Gynn / Skewes, MacKenzie, Rodda, Fosse-Gordon / Cotterill, Falcon
Song: “Are You Kinitaria In Disguise?”
No surprises expected from coach Athelstan Marchand, as Wight look to press on with home advantage and rack up a decent lead in the first half of qualifying. He will be looking for the strikers to improve their goal ratio with only one goal in seven between them so far.
by Miskatonic University » Thu Mar 15, 2012 9:08 am
Wight 1-0 Kintratar
Cotterill 55’
Tommy Woodroffe the drunken sports anchor at the Wightling World Service summarised the action at Spit Lawns thus:
After a couple of solid performances, the Sondry Folk are back to looking a bit shaky, Con, and the pressure of defending the World Cup – did I mention already that –
“Yes you did Tommy, you did.”
Alright then, well, the boys in reaper black looked a little uncertain tonight, didn’t they Con?
To which the analyst Con Houlihan replied: “In a word Tommy?
“It was a nervous performance, I thought, and there have been rumours in the camp of a lack of preparation, last minute tactical meetings, and the team tall tale teller Empy Summons turning up totally disorganised for dressing room discourses.”
That’s easy for you to say Con. I thought Kintratar looked in reasonable shape for a point myself, certainly in the first half, when their centre halves Gardiner and Calwell marshalled Wight’s offensive potency with an impressive show of discipline and shape. But worryingly our strike partners have still not really got going.
“True Tommy, true enough, although once Cotterill hit a low shot past Tim Conner in the Kintrattish goal, there never seemed like a way back for the boys in – what colour would you say that was, Tommy? – “
Oh, sort of browny-greyish-puke/I mean –puce/ or something, a colour they call ‘Gosh’ in the press-pack.
“An apt description, Tommy, thanks. There never seemed like a way back for the boys in goshpukebrown. Although there was that moment, with the Vilitan albatross and the invisible snow-angel of the Holy Asylum - ”
I’ll have to stop you there on that one, Con, we don’t have permission to make stuff up like that.
“I’m not making it up, Tommy, we both saw how the ball was deflected awkwardly off an angel’s buttock from that free kick –“
Really Con I don’t know what you are talking about. Here, have a quick read of the RP Permissions in the Kintratario press-pack while I ramble about something vaguely irrelevant. For example I had the pleasure of Masvidal’s company earlier today at a press party at The Republic of Heaven Hotel in Spit. What a friendly fellow he is, despite his fearsome reputation. Quite the gentleman in real life… finished?
“Yes Tommy, quite finished, and I must say, a perfectly routine victory here today, wouldn’t you agree?”
Indeed Con, routine.
“Yes, routine.”
by Miskatonic University » Thu Mar 15, 2012 9:13 am
Tarrigan 0-3 Wight
Falcon 29’ MacKenzie 34’ Fosse-Gordon 90+4’
Tommy Woodroffe the drunken sports anchor at the Wightling World Service summarised the action at Spit Lawns thus:
The Sondry Folk looking good in the first of three games on the road and once again it is the defence who will win the plaudits, extending the national record to five games now without conceding a goal; captain M.V Cabel and national icon Marriner Friend-Forsaken like brothers in arms at the centre of the back four – nothing is getting past them these days, and if a successful defence of the World Cup is in the making, these two are the chief engineers. In five games, keeper Antrim Quentine has barely had a touch of the ball, and the risk now is he could well be sound asleep when some more skilled forward than the Tarriganxhiani finally gets a shot on target. But that’s for another time. Let’s celebrate a confident performance and an improvement up front too where Cotterill and Falcon finally looked to be getting into gear after a stuttering start to this campaign. So far they have relied on the midfield getting most of the goals and although Piran MacKenzie and Zachary Fosse-Gordon again chipped in, after Israel Falcon hit the opener, at least this time the boys up front looked as dangerous as World Cup winners should.
Captain Marvel M.V Cabel was probably man of the match, Con, but all round a solid team effort, wouldn’t you say?
To which the analyst Con Houlihan replied: “In a word, Tommy?
“Comfortably rhythmic.”
A good observation, there, Con. It was comfortably rhythmic. Next up is a visit to Olastor, who held the Sondry Folk to a narrow victory at Spit Lawns on the opening day, surprising for the close margin and for the opposition, who were not at all what Wight had been expecting, thanks to those damnable Montrealaise Errorists. Someone needs to do something about those Alan Belmores, Con. But getting back to it – coach Athelstan Marchand will likely shuffle the pack for this fixture, with one eye on the crunch game with Mangolana coming up next. Expect several changes, and perhaps even a debut for Alfred Messa, the first Septentionax to play for Wight?
Wight at Olastor
Team: Kneebone / Cove, Coss, Friend-Forsaken, Gynn / Skewes, Snyder, Messa, St. Levan / Cotterill, Faas
Song: “Are You Eastfield In Disguise?”
by Miskatonic University » Thu Mar 15, 2012 9:17 am
Gothianus Bootwarbler was at his desk inputting a complex and largely pointless formula into a spreadsheet for calculating the net gain of indexed variables over a range of factoring units carried forward from previous sheets of data with the sole purpose of proving the sum of nothing is hollow indeed, when an anthropomorphic bear in a superhero costume displaced into his small office cubicle and scattered pens, paperclips, staples, sticky notes, drawing pins, pencils, papers, paperweights, calculators, rules, ink stamps, and a photograph in a frame of Gothianus and his wife Missus Bootwarbler on holiday in a parallel universe version of Croatia (blurred) where they met a real organgrinder’s monkey, all across the cube, to Gothianus great distress.
You just don’t fuck with a civil servant’s desk.
Gothianus became then a little uncivil, though, retaining an instinct for civil service, refused to cuss in all but the most palatable of colourful language, and largely complained about work-place harassment, thinking it to be the work of his cube neighbour and arch-rival in the administration of data carry-forwards, Harry Spargo. Belatedly he saw the bear, a well-groomed but undeniably ursine sort of bear, the sort you imagine, if you are not Ray Mears, will eat you on sight but not before savaging you in an impolite and thoroughly messy assault that will hurt more than anything you - or Gothianus - could possibly imagine. Actually the bear - Fattarno, a magician - was even more confused than the civil servant and though having a long-established reputation for gentleness and refined manners he was in that moment dishevelled, disorientated and temporarily dyspraxic so that not only did he not know where he was or how he had come to be there, but he did not even know who he was, who Gothianus was, or how far away he was from the civil servant. Gothianus had begun to let out a squealing sort of howl, or a howling sort of squeal (the nuance or contradistinction of which was lost on both superbear and ordinary civil servant in the crisis of the collapsing reality of that moment). Fattarno swung for him, claws extended, to deliver a fatal blow, but missed. He was yet to find his range.
The civil servant screamed and turned on his heel, gasping and weeping and still uncertain of the subtle difference between a squeal and a howl, but sure in his heart and his trousers that he needed a toilet with as much emergency as the emergency of being chased by a materialising bear in a superhero costume. He did not look back else he would’ve realised the bear was not following.
Fattarno shook his head and tried to get a lock on his surroundings while the terrified bureaucrat locked himself in the water closet and tried with the clarity of adrenalin to decide on the best course of action: either to hold his breath, or to cry inconsolably with the trauma of it all. Back in the cubicle Fattarno shook his head with confusion and sniffed the air for indicators of his immediate prospects. He had never been in an administrator’s office, and he saw that he was in some kind of hell.
by Miskatonic University » Thu Mar 15, 2012 9:20 am
Kevin the Quantum Mechanic had tried a patch-up and was attempting, unsuccessfully, to get the truck started. There could be no doubting the bear in the metallic armour had come off worse in the tangle with St. Blazey, Scammell of The Void, Old Shakerssen’s giant cream and brown Scammell 6x6 Ballast Tractor. That’s not to say the truck was unharmed: there was a sizeable dent in the front radiator grill the approximate shape of an armoured superbear in possibly the worst costume Old Shakerssen had ever seen. He was scratching his head as his boys Barlow Todd the apprentice and Vallis Bonsaint the back-up driver from Septentrionia loaded the empty outfit onto the flatbed trailer they had been towing across the void to Old Wight. Mettle, the ursine superhero, was out of the articulated steel costume with flannelette cloak and nursing his considerable bruising while Old Shakerssen quizzed him about his exploits and his sudden appearance on the Back Road to Wight, directly in front of the steadily chugging Scammell. Mettle couldn’t remember a thing, except that his name was Mettle and he was a friend of Superbear, the darling of Amberrica. The next thing he recalled was looking up at a suicide grey sky with Old Shakerssen, the Audioslav Remover, standing over him cussing. They had cut him out of his mangled suit using an old sonic screwdriver Kevin had found in his toolbox, something they had probably stolen off a monk of the Holy Empire since they had started messing about with the damn things in recent times. But Kevin had not been able to get the truck going again. They sent Barlow ahead on foot to find a roadside emergency phone so they could call for recovery, since mobile phones were next to useless in the void, what with the network coverage being so thin.
It took a while. The nearest phone point was half an astronomical unit away, and poor Barlow was exhausted by the time he got back. If he’d gone the other way, they had passed the last phone a mere handful of gigametres down the Back Road. Typical, isn’t it? Though the recovery people said they would be setting out immediately, it was half an aeon before they got there, leading Old Shakerssen to surmise that they hadn’t left when they said they would at all. And when they did come, it was a couple of humanoid-shaped ant colonies from Queen Myrme, the regent hereabouts. Never trust an ant with a spanner, says Old Shakerssen. He had been hoping for the Royal Automobile Club.
by Miskatonic University » Thu Mar 15, 2012 4:22 pm
The job of the good watchman is not just to see but to hear, and it was the cold throaty rumble of dead bears walking in the ears of Hemingway up on the watch that first alerted him to their movement on the Lonely Road. Once again, it seemed, from a narrow path off The Beaten Track that wound and whittled it’s way to a country of reanimated bears, two old friends had emerged and were bound for Wight. Hemingway took up his unlikely telescopic spyglass, all crooked and decrepit-looking, with a lens so impressively convexed as to make his eye when trained upon you seem like a distant spiral galaxy, so large and swirling. Hemingway trained his spyglass upon the Lonely Road, and there, near the crossroads of sometime in the eternal past and the unforeseeable future, were the reanimated monsters of the Storm Clan, Elifalet Behrouz Eliphelet and Daryawesh whose pelts were slick with the blood of the innocent. Now, it is well known that Hemingway keeps the company of a famous royal jackdaw, Arrrrr Kaaaarr White-Eye whom he considered his best friend and confidant, a cousin of Búa’s own familiar Quurk Qaark of Granite Hall North Kitchens Broken Chimney Pot.
“Look at those fellows,” said Hemingway, and Arrrrr Kaaaarr took a peak down the telescope, “what do you think they are up to, AK?”
The fellows on the watch had a brief conversation, and agreed that Arrrrr Kaaaarr would fetch another dead bear walking who was resident in Wight Spit at that time and might know a thing or two about their intentions, the zombie ursine Mufaddal Meshach Khoroushi, of which the Synaxarion, the book of names, says this,A reanimated bear from the far country somewhere down a hard-to-spot overgrown single-lane track off the Lonely Road, Khoroushi is the captain and warrior-chief of Royal Monster FC, considered the biggest and best of the three Bears Reanimated clubs that compete in the Haphazard Foundation. Quite terrifying of aspect, the black bear with a slick, bloody pelt (oiled with rich red haemoglobin before each game to intimidate opponents) looks for all the world like something out of your worst nightmare, and as a consequence he is widely adored in Wight as the poster-bear for Ursine football. Nicknamed Irontooth for his fearsome blackened gnashers, he is highly intelligent - something not commonly associated with reanimated bears, whose personality and IQ from their more organic life usually take quite a pounding in the cross-over to the world of the Undead. Though not especially dirty or dishonest Khoroushi is a fearsome opponent of lightning pace, solid tackle, and intimidatory presence - not to mention a foul temper. But he couldn't be more different off the pitch, when, having scrubbed off the blood and mud, he is a very placid, entertainingly social and charming gentlebear. Although he still has dreadful dull black teeth and a hint in his dead eyes that he might want to tear you limb from limb, if only social niceties would allow.
“Hello, Irontooth,” said Hemingway, when the giant beast called in at the watch-tower, “thanks for dropping by. Tea? A scone? With jam? Now, Mufaddal what do you make of this - ”
...but at that moment there was a pop, and a shimmer, and suddenly, Mufaddal Meshach Khoroushi, the Irontooth, was gone. Disappeared. Arrrrr Kaaaarr let out a shocked yelp, and Hemingway cursed under his breath. He looked out across the Lonely Road with his old spyglass, and sure enough, the reanimated bears were gone, too. That was five bears popped out of existence in a single day. Hemingway scratched his head, puzzled. Only Mettle was still in his sights: he checked, and Old Shakerssen was still stuck out in ant country, getting his truck fixed. How long, though Hemingway, gazing at the battered superbear who had been run over by a supertruck, before you disappear too?
by Miskatonic University » Thu Mar 15, 2012 4:26 pm
Hemingway of the Watch came down to the court in Wight Spit, where Búa would normally hold counsel, when he wasn’t mysteriously absent as now. In his place, Hassan i Sabbah his First Lieutenant and Master Assassin was standing in, preparing for the business of the Beastival, the great carnival that was fast approaching. The Master of Revels had just confirmed that Stuf the Poet was booked, and Tiberius Ogden, that dread ringmaster, was even now assembling his Circus Mutante on the Husting Grounds, and that would prove to be a great attraction, of course.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” said Hemingway, patently uncomfortable in the salubrious surroundings of the court, “but things are happening out there that I am at a loss to explain. Can we have a word?” He was referring not to himself in the plural, but to his attendant companion Arrrrr Kaaaarr White-Eyes, the royal jackdaw.
In an oak-lined ante-room the watchman explained first the strange phenomenon that bears, normally averse to the peculiar pleasures of the undead - or should I say recycled - realms, had started to appear in small numbers across the voids, including some in quite spectacularly embarrassing costumes. Superbears, some of them. And dead bears walking. Further to this, each of the bears had at some later point almost literally winked out of existence. Even his friend Muffadahl, the Irontooth, an heroic zombie bear, had disappeared recently before his very long-sighted eyes. He proposed to Hassan that a strange business was afoot, and inquired, as politely as possible, on the likelihood that Hassan was, not for the first time, up to his old tricks of mounting plundering raids into The Holy Empire. The Basileus himself, Alistair I Frosticus, was inclined to extract a costly revenge from anyone messing with his precious icons. And Hassan had done his fair share of that over the aeons, inveterate thief and blasphemer. But in this case, of course, he denied any such meddling. Whatever the meaning of these Armed Bears, or Bears Armed, or however one addresses them in approved nomenclature, appearing and disappearing in the voids around Old Wight, it was not through any agency of he, Hassan i Sabbah. Hemingway bowed low in disingenuous agreement, and left with his puzzle unresolved.
by Miskatonic University » Thu Mar 15, 2012 4:29 pm
Personal Life
Dwayne
Masvidal did used to have a given name. And that name was Dwayne, as the team sheets at Deportivo early in his career will attest to. While the world has known only Masvidal, in Tamarindia we still privately remember when he was Dwayne. All that changed after the mysterious detention in Johz, when, as captain of the under-21s entering their first ever tournament, he was held at the border by Johzian Immigration and missed the entire competition. The incident has never been explained, either by immigration or by the player himself, but when he was released at the end of the tournament, he had dropped the name Dwayne, and insisted on being referred to by his family name alone.
Supernatural Player Theory
His name change is not the full extent of Masvidal's eccentricities. During his early career he became an adherent of the Supernatural Player Theory, arguably a paranoid fatalistic world view, perhaps with futilitarian philosophical overtones, concerning the nature of fate, destiny, and the idea that we are all but pieces and characters imagined by Supernatural Players and used in the playing of games. It was the subject of much debate and study at the Academy of International Relations in Libertad, where the Department for Superstition are nationally reknowned for their studies and rebuttals of the myriad religions of the multiverse. What we know of Masvidal's thinking is limited, for he has not gone public on his ideas, but interviews and commentary in previous tournaments made it clear that he has doubts about the sovereignty of his own actions, and suspects himself to be an agent of greater forces at work in the multiverse. Like the many icons of the Abrahamic Empire, or David Koresh, or Charles Manson, Jung Myung Seok, the Nuwaubians, and other delusionals. Except, perhaps, more benign in Masvidal's case.
‘Shana
During a visit to Mangolana for the World Indoor Soccer Championships 2, in order to be legally licensed to perform a marriage ceremony between Tamaridian journalist Chandara Sín and Ryevolian footballer Dave Tankles, Masvidal took the ordination of 'Shana, and became a priest in the local religious sect. These are some of his reflections from that time, published in the newspaper La Botela on his return.
“I had on my full ceremonial robes as a true priest of the Mangolana Way, which I bought (the priesthood and the robes) for 3000 fangs in a back alley off Rómello Street. That had been interesting: Chu Mango had taken me to get licensed for performing legal marriages – as well as baptisms, eucharists, confessions, confirmations, the rites of death, exorcisms and black belt grading in the Mangolana martial art of Nurrua. In a crypt under the church in the back alley off the road on the strip of the district where sin is the currency, a man explained the spiritual sanctity of the priesthood, took the money off me, tried to barter for a bit more, shared a ritual vodka with a shot of crack cocaine, blessed me, gave me a grubby brown paper bag tied up with string that had been robbed from a beggar's trousers, and announced that I was ordained into the Holy Way.”
It is not thought that Masvidal has remained devout to ‘Shana, or indeed Supernatural Player Theory.
Influential Friends
Masvidal is known to be close friends with Tamarindian national hero Francisco Vasquaz García and current president of Tamarindia, Chu Mango. He supports Vasquez García’s campaign to find out what happened to Leonardo de Accordioné, with whom he was also associated. Leonardo is mentioned briefly in The Baptist as having been in a bar in Misión, Tamarindia, during the chaotic fall of the nation, with Vasquez García and Masvidal. In that story Vasquez García and Masvidal were taken to a nearby motel by The Unholy Trinity, where they were sacrificed and possessed by bodysnatchers in the cause of the Raising of The Sondry Folk. Leonardo was reported as having been rendered incapacitated by Herbert West, who hit him over the head with a bottle and left him at the bar.
While Masvidal returned to prominence in Wight, and Vasquez García was found and briefly served as President in his home nation before the stabilising hand of Chu Mango took control of the helm, Leonardo remained lost. The first modern publication of The Baptist was reported to have come from Tamarindia's northern neighbour Navarre, and it's author was named as Leonardo Della-Cordioné, but the publishers later claimed the author was anonymous and unknown. This was the last known record of Leonardo, who is widely believed dead, but Vasquez García remains committed to discovering the truth about the man last seen being assaulted by Doctor Herbert West.
Olastor 1-3 Wight
Some Johnny Olastoriner 65’ / Falcon 2’ Faas 55’ Snyder 79’
Tommy Woodroffe the drunken sports anchor at the Wightling World Service summarised the action in Olastor thus:
Two small hiccups on the road to another decent win, Con, and the Sondry Folk press ahead toward a fifth consecutive finals qualification, all being well. It started during the warm-ups when talismanic striker Lorccán Cotterill pulled up and limped down the tunnel, from which he didn’t emerge. Israel Falcon, who was slated to have the day off with Solmund Faas in his stead, was reinstated to the starting line-up, and rewarded his manager with a decent effort inside the first thirty seconds, the Olastoric keeper making a decent save. One minute later Falcon made good with his third goal of qualification, and Wight were on their way to another victory. Faas added a second after the restart with the Sondry Folk dominating throughout. Then the second minor hiccup, when some Johnny Olastoriner pulled one back and ended hopes of keeping a clean slate for the tournament. Wight will settle for a national record five consecutive clean sheets. Jett Snyder added a third late in the game to keep Wight top of the table and five points clear, with a visit to Nirvana next. That would be Lone Island, Nirvana, Mangolana, Con, not our own pungent nirvana in Old Wight.
To which the analyst Con Houlihan replied: “In a word, Tommy?
“More’s the pity. For all it’s aromatic charm, I do miss the place.”
No doubt, Con, for who in all the multiverse wouldn’t? Anyway, it’s the key fixture next and you would have to say a win at Lone Island would likely see us through, but we’ll be missing Cotterill who hasn’t recovered in time to make the trip. It seems coach Athelstan Marchand favours the shapeshifter Solmund Faas over Manalaus Carne at the moment, and he will get the call to play alongside Falcon. Otherwise it will be back to the full-strength team after resting many for the game in Olastor. Plenty of the top teams are tripping up at the moment – just look at the top two ranked nations, both failing to live up to their usual high standards, and the Polarians still smarting from being robbed in the last World Cup final.2 So despite a big win in the home game, this one is by no means a given, Con, and the boys at the back will need to be at their magnificent best to take something away from the Mangoes.
Wight at Mangolana
Team: Quentine / Boyle, Cabel, Friend-Forsaken, Gynn / Skewes, MacKenzie, Rodda, Fosse-Gordon / Faas, Falcon
Song: “Mango-lana, Mango-lana, Hey-heyya, Goodbye!”
by Miskatonic University » Thu Mar 15, 2012 4:32 pm
Mangolana 3-4 Wight
Montgomery 22’ 84’ Mallon 58’ / Fosse-Gordon 2’ Skewes 23’ Synder 30’ Faas 57’
Tommy Woodroffe the drunken sports anchor at the Wightling World Service summarised the action in Mangolana thus:
A big step forward, Con, but as expected it was far from easy, and Wight lapsed into their more familiar style of swashbuckling, devil-may-care football in which outscoring the opposition is more important than defending against them. This was really a must win for Mangolana, they looked to have all but blown it when they conceded an early goal – Fosse-Gordon hitting a Kylx-like opener (where is he these days Con, burned out I expect, his career like his game play: stellar. For about thirty seconds). Wight dominated the first hour to march into a 4-1 lead at Lone Island before the Magoes staged a late rally and almost, almost got something from the game. As it is, Wight need one more win to qualify and you wouldn’t bet against them, would you Con?
To which the analyst Con Houlihan replied: “In a word, Tommy?
“That would be highly frowned upon.”
Indeed Con, highly. Expect several changes tonight even though this might be the first match point of qualification for Wight. Tregue Zettner will likely make his debut as Argon Skewes is one of several rested; Manalaus Carne will partner Solmund Faas up front with wonderkid Falcon also rested and Lorrcán Cotterill coming back from injury. He needs five more goals to move into first place as the nations top scorer but Athelstan Marchand will refuse to rush him back. Alfred Messa, impressive in his debut performance, gets a second bite of the cherry.
Wight vs. Free South Califas
Team: Kneebone / Cove, Coss, Friend-Forsaken, Gynn / Zettner, MacKenzie, Messa, Fosse-Gordon / Faas, Carne
by Miskatonic University » Thu Mar 15, 2012 4:35 pm
by Miskatonic University » Fri Mar 16, 2012 8:12 am
Perfect Ten
Tommy Woodroffe the drunken sports anchor at the Wightling World Service summarised qualification to the World Cup thus:
Wight completed their first ever hundred percent winning streak in World Cup qualification in an attempt to prove to the multiverse – and to their own citizens in particular – that being the reigning world champions was no fluke. Only the mightiest teams get to turn up at the finals as hundred percenters: only the greatest teams in the history of Enness football ever do something like that. Teams like Wight. And, um, Darmen. Two of the legends of the modern game, Con.
To which the analyst Con Houlihan replied: “In a word, Tommy?
“I wouldn’t say that, exactly.”
No, probably not, Con. But you couldn’t ask any more of the Sondry Folk than to go out there and win every game. Apart from a small blip in the middle of qualifying, with two consecutive 4-3 victories over the chasing pair of Mangolana and Free South Califas, this was a new look miserly kind of Wight which kept seven clean sheets and only conceded a single goal in the other game. The familiar three Arnold Bedsit Rovers of Bram Carlo-Boyle, MV Cabel and Marriner Friend-Forsaken, bolstered by the impressive rising star Etienne Gynn, looked mostly unbeatable in defense and this is an interestingly fresh foundation on which to build a campaign – usually it’s goals, goals, goals at both ends for Wight but with strikers Lorccán Cotterill and Israel Falcon a little less prolific this time around, having a solid back four has proved invaluable.
With only one goal in the campaign so far and a recurring fitness problem, Cotterill has not moved into the number one spot for all-time scorers as expected, ahead of the legendary Masvidal. Indeed he will need a good tournament to break the record now, in what looks like his final outing. Five more goals will put him one ahead of the great Tamarindian, on 57. It doesn’t look likely, does it? But there is a bright spot on the horizon with the emergence of the bear-man Solmund Faas, completing the qualifying series with a new national record of scoring in five consecutive games and looking every bit the perfect foil to bird-man Falcon. It’s a promising partnership.
In the midfield Piran MacKenzie looks imperious, Zachary Fosse-Gordon unstoppable, and Argon Skewes a natural. The more advanced role tragically vacated by Big John Corfe-Sheviock is still under contention from two very capable candidates in Ia Rodda and surprise package Alfred Messa. Coach Athelstan Marchand looks undecided between them, with Messa looking more likely to challenge Rodda’s coronation as the attacking midfielder of choice which we were all expecting. Nevertheless, Con, I expect to see The Fearless Red, Rodda, get the nod for the vital first game. After losing the opener last time on the way to a very lucky passage out of the group stage, Athelstan will be looking for a smoother qualification this time, beginning with the somewhat taciturn Antoletians.
“At least they don’t post in unreadable colours any more, Tommy.”
There is that, Con, there is that.
Wight vs. Antoletia
Team: Quentine / Boyle, Cabel, Friend-Forsaken, Gynn / Skewes, MacKenzie, Rodda, Fosse-Gordon / Faas, Falcon
by Miskatonic University » Fri Mar 16, 2012 8:15 am
Wight 3-1 Antoletia
Carne 10’ Cotterill 71’ MacKenzie 78’ / Hannibal 82’
Tommy Woodroffe the drunken sports anchor at the Wightling World Service summarised the action in Audioslavia thus:
Well it’s a much better start to the World Cup Finals this time around, Con, with a solid win over the Fire Ants and a good showing from some of the back-ups, Manalaus Carne in particular with his early goal setting the tempo for the game. A follow-up was a long time coming with both Carne and Solmund Faas going close on several occasions, but it took till long after the hour mark for the veteran and sub Lorccán Cotterill to really settle it, his 53rd goal for his country inching him toward the national goalscoring record currently held by Masvidal at 56. The man-of-the-tournament last time out en route to winning the title, Piran MacKenzie, continued where he left off with the killer third before Hannibal pulled a late consolation for the men in garish hoops. Coach Athelstan Marchand will likely revert to his strongest line-up for the tie with big winners Ko-oren, who thrashed Mapletish 6-2. These sides met for the first and only time in the group stage of the last AOCAF, a tightly contested 2-2 draw the outcome. The Sondry Folk will be looking for a little more this time, Con, to ensure a smooth passage into the knockout stage.
To which the analyst Con Houlihan replied: “In a word, Tommy?
“I think you’re probably right, for a change.”
Wight vs. Ko-oren
Team: Quentine / Boyle, Cabel, Friend-Forsaken, Gynn / Skewes, MacKenzie, Rodda, Fosse-Gordon / Cotterill, Falcon
Quentine, Boyle, Skewes and Rodda all return after being rested for the opener by a confident Coach Athelstan, along with wonderkid Israel Falcon. Despite Solmund Faas apparently moving up to first choice striker, Athelstan will start with the more experienced Lorccán Cotterill alongside Falcon, and he will be looking for more goals toward the potential national scoring record.
by Miskatonic University » Fri Mar 16, 2012 8:50 am
Wight 2-1 Ko-oren
Sunrise Park, Burgess, Inevitablia
Cotterill 43’ Skewes 84’ / Talmis 39’
Tommy Woodroffe the drunken sports anchor at the Wightling World Service summarised the action in The Inevitable Syndicate thus:
A win is a win, Con, no matter which way you slice and dice it. Any idea that Ko-oren had bitten off more than they could chew was quickly dispelled, the Dragonflies looking comfortable in possession and cool as a cucumber when out of it. They didn’t seem to give a fig for the reputation of their champion opponents either and you might say they had some chops. What is certain is that Sondry Folk keeper Antrim Quentine, so often unchallenged during the qualification cycle, proved he was worth his salt with a series of fine saves. But not enough to stop Pta Talmis putting the greenblues briefly ahead and leaving us all feeling as flat as a pancake.
Butter my muffins if Lorccán Cotterill didn’t pop up with a quick equaliser though, he’s been the best thing since sliced bread for Wight down the years and edges ever closer to that national goalscoring record, needing three more to overtake the legend Masvidal. If he misses out now, being so close, well that would be a bitter pill to swallow. All square at half time, it was difficult to separate these sides and another draw, following the one in the last AOCAF, seemed Inevitable. They’re a hard nut to crack and no mistake, these Dragonflies. In the second half the supposedly superior Sondry Folk made a meal of it again, and not for all the tea in china did it look like they would pull this one out of the soup. It was late, late when young winger Argon Skewes popped up to save our bacon, proving he is the cream of the crop with a calmly taken winner. That cooked the goose for the greenblues.
Ko-oren proved there is no such thing as a free lunch, Con, but Wight came out top banana and though they had to eat a little humble pie, that’s the way the cookie crumbles. The Dragonflies almost upset the applecart but in the end we got away with the whole enchilada.
To which the analyst Con Houlihan replied: “In a word, Tommy?
“Food for thought.”
Wight vs. Mapletish
Team: Quentine / Cove, Coss, Friend-Forsaken, Scantlebury / Zettner, Snyder, Messa, Fosse-Gordon / Faas, Falcon
Coach Athelstan Marchand will shuffle the pack again with qualification to the next round assured, with key players rested. Look for the international debut of rightback Austin Scantlebury, in for the impressive Etienne Gynn. Scantlebury has been Gynn’s understudy at every level from under-15 up, and at club football too until Gynn recently moved from AFC Portsmouth to Ours Française. Tregue Zettner will make a rare appearance in place of Argon Skewes in left midfield, while Solmund Faas returns to the forward position, veteran Lorccán Cotterill given the game off in preparation for the knockout stages.
by Miskatonic University » Fri Mar 16, 2012 9:04 am
Mapletish 1-3 Wight
Sunrise Park, Burgess, Inevitabilia
Falcon 14’ Snyder 25’ Cotterill 79’ / Junio 75’
Tommy Woodroffe the drunken sports anchor at the Wightling World Service summarised the action in The Inevitable Syndicate thus:
The Sondry Folk qualify for the knockout stages in perfect style with a sparkling win over the Tishues, Con, the first time they have won the group stage. And they have maintained their perfect win record to earn a tie with the Farfadilloes, whom we must not forget gave us a dusting down in the AOCAF third-placed play-off recently, at least in the penalty shoot-out after a tight 1-1 draw. Israel Falcon opened the scoring tonight in a confident display, with Jett Snyder bagging a rare goal to give Wight a comfortable half-time lead. Veteran superstar Junio hit one back for the Tishues to potentially give Athelstan Marchand a headache in the closing stages, but substitute Lorccán Cotterill struck a measured and fully deserved third; and with that edged ever closer to breaking Masvidal’s international scoring record. Two more goals will do it, Con, and let’s hope there are four more games for him to hit them in.
To which the analyst Con Houlihan replied: “In a word, Tommy?
“That will do nicely. A little bird tells me Quantum Spaghetti has four more installments for a nice rounded RP story, too.”
“Would that be the jackdaw I saw you talking to earlier today, Con?”
“It would, Tommy. It would.”
Wight vs. Farfadillis
Team: Quentine / Boyle, Cabel, Friend-Forsaken, Gynn / Skewes, MacKenzie, Rodda, Fosse-Gordon / Cotterill, Falcon
Coach Athelstan will likely now pick his full first-choice eleven for the rest of the tournament, barring injuries, and we’ll hope it’s more than just the one game, although Farfadillis are another rising power in the game and will be a tough opponent at Wight’s temporary home ground of Sunrise Park in Burgess. Lorrcán Cotterill, of colour in the qualifying campaign, has sparkled again on the big stage and will win back the default striker option from Solmund Faas in this, his last international tournament.
by Miskatonic University » Fri Mar 16, 2012 9:07 am
LETTER TO THE BASILEUS
c/o Fr. Eusebius Who Always Burns The Lentils
The Office of The Purple Inkstain
The Holy Asylum
Hey, Al, erm, how are you, and all that?
Well, look, this is awkward. Just a quick note – I don’t have much time (busy you see, being omnipotent and all, it’s quite demanding, infinitely time consuming, hmm?).
The thing is, well, we’ve had a bit of a break down over here. You know, minor thing, just, erm, stalled our reality. Could do with a bit of a jump start. Normally I would fix it myself, of course, but, ah, I seem to have run out of the right parts. You know how it is. You get so darned busy doing, um, stuff, and you don’t get time to get down the store, the subjects are misbehaving and running riot… and whaddaya know? Your temporal-spatial construct develops a fault, you run into the shed to get a revelation that will hotwire into the narrative, boom… it was on your shopping list. And you look at your watch – flipping closed. Even the 7/11 Dimensions convenience store is shut at this diegetic time. Awkward.
So what am I saying here? Is there any chance you can send your boys Juan Chimichanga and Simeone di Bradini out to save the multiverse? Look, I know they are already saving the multiverse somewhere else, but this should only take a few aeons of their time. You can send me the bill.
Probably best tell Simeone that we are collectively sorry for his cavity search at Spit International Airport during the World Under-21s, bit of a misunderstanding, that.
Also, for knocking The Archregimancy and The Holy Empire out of the last World Cup. And for calling you Monty Burns. Unnecessary.
Details of the latest multiversal disaster-waiting-to-happen are enclosed with this letter. It’s all about twins making a flipping mess of things. Which reminds me, I’d like to redact my statement about you and Kronos of The Void being relatives. Petulant. I see that now.
As for the continual jokes about Abrahamism, and the general blasphemy, well, we do our best, of course,
Kind regards,
Búa
Dictated to Gregoire L’Erreur (I’m in a bit of a pickle at the moment – B)
PS – And no, I don’t really think you are a two-headed schizophrenic tyrant. That was a foolish remark in an unguarded moment that should never have been quoted.
PPS – Don’t hesitate to correct my grammar – I’m an inveterate apostrophile.
by Miskatonic University » Fri Mar 16, 2012 9:30 am
by Miskatonic University » Fri Mar 16, 2012 9:46 am
Wight 1-2 The Inevitable Syndicate (aet; FT:1-1)
Flynn Arena, Fligsive, Inevitabilia
Falcon 10’ / Powell 71’, Pratt 103’
Tommy Woodroffe the drunken sports anchor at the Wightling World Service summarised the action in The Inevitable Syndicate thus:
Beaten by a Pratt, Con!
To which the analyst Con Houlihan replied: “In a word, Tommy?
“*@&!??!+±?@$%@!!!”
by Miskatonic University » Fri Mar 16, 2012 9:53 am
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