Capto Iugulum

@Double A: Hoping that your orders do get in on time. If not though, I would like a response to the NPC diplomacy sent to you, and ideally a vague idea of what you'd like your spending to do while you're sick, if possible.

Orders sent.

This is the 12 hour warning to get those orders in.

The nation of Bradenburg would like to invite the nations of the world to Berlin in 1902 for a round of football. Bring your best players into one national team, and play for the honor to be the greatest team in football!

The Empire of Spain will go there and fight for the honour of being the best nation at playing football!

Austria feels that if Brandenburg is seeking a World-Wide Football match, perhaps a better, more worldly area host it. Somewhere in Spain, England, Scandinavia, Franco-Burgundy, Brazil or the United States would be preferential.

Brandenburg is in the process of creating a world class stadium for football, and will be more than ready to host the coming event

All right, well the deadline is a mere 3-4 hours away and I'm missing six sets of orders. I should reiterate, as per my normal policy, it's two strikes and you're out, making room for a more active player for your nation, unless of course you actually give reason for time missed, or at least some sort of NPCed orders. Seeing as there's a solid week between every update, I feel a two week span to at least make some sort of note on your availability is more than fair. You few remaining have been warned.

Flanders will send a team to Berlin.

The Nya Stockholm Athletics Club team will represent Vinland in Berlin.

Composition of the Spanish National Team that will compete in the 1902 Brandenburg World Balompie Cup:

1: Javier Hornillos (Keeper, Habaneros de La Habana)
2: James Estíbar (Right-wing Defender, Anglos de Malvinas)
3: Mikha'el Espinoza (Left-wing Defender, Peregrinos de Jerusalén)
4: Manolo Hierro (Central Defender, Caballeros de Madrid)
5: Fernando Tezozomoc (Central Mid-fielder, Aztecas de Tenochtitlán)
6: Rabindranath Nehru (Left-wing Mid-fielder, Príncipes de Jaipur)
7: Jesús Kalākaua (Right-wing Midfielder, Nativos de Nuevo Tenerife)
8: Patxi Goikoetxea (Inside forward, Fogoneros de Bilbao)
9: Antonio Gálvez (Striker, Caballeros de Madrid)
10: Juanito García (Left-wing forward, Navegantes de San Juan)
11: Puntan Gómez (Right-wing forward, Independiente de Agaña)
12: Hassan Al-Assoud (Central Defender, Nómadas de Trípoli)
13: João Peres (Keeper, Vascos de Goa)
14: Enrique Nvó Okenve (Right-wing Midfielder, Cafeteros de Bata)
15: Saif al-Ghawri (Inside forward, Barqueros de Suez)
16: Mahmoud Benkada (Striker, Piratas de Orán)
Coach: Antonio Maura

Note: They might be from different cultures and regions, but this is the team that represents the Empire of Spain, and the man that chooses the team (the Coach) cares zero about that, he wants to create the best national team in the world and he'll be damned if things as stupid as the color of their skin or who their parents are are going to stop him from having the best team ever.

No more orders at all will be accepted at this point.

First Lt. Charlie Bentham jogged in place just before the 2000m dash would begin. His heart was pounding in his ears as adrenaline rushed through his blood. This would be it. His most glorious moment. Not the crowning achievement; he had too much time ahead of him to say that this would be the best moment of his life. Instead it would be the start. Many officers and sergeants tried out for the United States Olympic team, and he was one of the select few to make it to Athens. It was such a big honor.

President Wareing himself was attending, sitting in the stands, his hawk-like features glaring out over the track, intently, as always. The President looked to the runners on the sidelines, at Charlie himself. Charlie had had the pleasure to share a ship with the President in the trip across the pond and through the Mediterranean. He was a silent man, at least whenever he was around the lower officers (which most of the athletes consisted of). Most of his time was spent in the officer's quarters of the ship, with other important persons. He was so aloof, so... intimidating. He did smile, but he still wouldn't say much. He just seemed to be a man who preferred to keep to himself.

And Charlie was determined to impress him. This could be the quickest and easiest way to a promotion he could ever hope for, and just by running. He beat all his friends in the races, from school boys to army buddies. He was zippy, speedy, gone before you said to start. And he was determined to beat all these foreigners and take the gold for the USA.

He and the other competitors were on the track. Time slowed as the anticipation welled up in him. He carefully put his heels on the blocks, his nose to the ground. He looked to his left. A Brazilian looked back to him, giving him a nod one gladiator would give another before the match. It did feel so Roman, these Olympic games. He almost expected to look up and see President Wareing giving him the upward thumb... the approval to kill.

The gun went off, and Charlie was sprinting as fast as he could. The Brazilian was ahead of him a few seconds in, but both were towards the head of the pack. That man had such long legs, but Charlie's legs were long too, and there was no way he would allow a Brazilian to beat him, in front of the President himself. He tried to summon every calorie in his body and direct it towards his legs. All melded together into a rhythmic pounding from his arms to his heart to his legs to the ground. It felt forever as he slowly gained on the man, but he did overtake him, halfway through the race.

He was doing it. He was at the head. He was running to get the gold and the glory (and the promotion) behind the red tape at the finish line. His confidence swelled as he began to stride to the end.

He didn't see the Pole in the corner of his eye, making gains on Charlie like he made gains on the Brazilian. By the time he noticed, it was too late. The man had broken the tape. Charlie was next over the line... but he was second. Second! He looked to the stands frantically, to see the President, to see if it had mattered that he just barely missed the gold and glory.

The President was walking away.

Naples will send a team to Berlin in 1902 to compete!

Politics aside no Austrians will be sent to compete. If it is a success, perhaps next year, depending on the venue.

The United States of New Spain will send a team to compete to show the world who is truly the greatest at football.

The Empire of Scandinavia does not believe Berlin is the correct place for such an event, and for now does not believe it will be sending athletes to any such gathering. We propose a real discussion on the matter of where best this kind of event could be held.

Flanders proposes that this International Tournament of Balompie be held in several cities throughout Brandenburg, with the championship game held in Berlin. If Brandenburg is deemed to not have the necessary facilities to hold the tournament then they may share the tournament with another country. In the future the IOC may then decide on the host of the tournament.

Well first of all, and this will be clear in the update. I refuse to call that sport by any name other than "balompie." This is because the origins of the sport will be Spanish and I choose to recognize that fact. Also, because I am having immense fun typing and saying the world "balompie" out loud.

Now, hopefully, when the update is ready in an hour or so, it'll be at the top of a page for me.