/his/ History

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2016 Spring Campaign

Founded in Fall 2015, /his/ had their first official match in the 2016 Spring Fetus against the shitposters of /v/. The /v/irgins struck first as a blue hedgehog flew across the field, but >HRE rallied the /his/torians just before the half to tie the game. Then, in a moment of pure spaghetti, the /int/ manager went too far with his meme tactics and sent /v/ into disarray, which gave >HRE a hat-trick and Bismarck a goal of his own. First match, first hat-trick, first win, 4-1 /his/.

/his/ would also deliver a 4-1 shellacking to /co/, but fall to /toy/ in a disappointing 1-3 loss. In spite of failing to master-race Group B, /his/ would still qualify for the Spring Babby as the second best team in the Fetus.

In the Babby Cup, /his/ first faced /lit/ in Group C, where a floundering defense gave up 5 goals before the half. The resolute >HRE refused to give up, however, and proceeded to go on a scoring rampage of 5 goals in 29 minutes. Two miscues from Bismarck and Mosley denied /his/ an equalizer, but the team had turned a 0-5 game into a 5-6 loss.

Scoring was not as plentiful in the match against /o/, where /his/ would be shutout in a 0-1 loss. Fighting to prevent relegation back to the Fetus, /his/ gave it their all against /cm/ for a 3-2 win, cementing a spot in the Autumn Babby Cup.

2016 Autumn Campaign

/his/ kicked off against Seventh Founding compatriot /p/, with >HRE off to a quick start with a goal in the eighth minute. /p/ would score shortly thereafter, and the teams engaged in an intense back-and-forth before >HRE could find the goal again in the thirty-first minute. Confident they would be going into the half with a 2-1 lead, /his/ was stunned when the referee let /p/ play on past extra time, allowing them to equalize and bring the score to 2-2. The goal killed /his/'s momentum for much of the second half, letting /p/ score two unanswered goals. With substitutions, /his/ attempted a late game rally led by a Napoleon goal, but Julius Caesar, once again unable to hide his autism seen in the high-scoring /his/-/lit/ match, threw a saved ball to /p/'s lead attacker, allowing an easy goal. /his/ would be unable to recover, and scored 2 consolation goals to come away with a 4-5 loss.

In the next match /his/ played against /int/, Spurdo Sparde made a breakaway, outmaneuvering the /his/ defense lines to score at the 7th minute. With /his/torian spirits lowered, the game became bogged down in the midfield, with neither of the teams able to move deeply into attacking opportunities until the break. In the second half, >Holy>Roman>Empire - subject to a berating on the Nature of Man by Crocodile - equalized the score. As the match's end drew near, signs of fatigue began to show among the /int/ players - Remove Kebab recieved a yellow card for shirtfronting someone who asked a question about religious history in the Balkans, and Proofs? scored a cherry-red ticket to the bench for an egregious personal foul on Bismarck, who questioned whether or not the Balkans were (quote verbatim), "Rightful Russian Clay". In the end the game ended in a draw.

"UNGHGHNGNUNGHGHGN" -- King Charles II of Spain, shortly before sentencing Crocodile to the Gulag

The /his/ command has realized that their situation was dire. They needed a win against /wg/ in order to advance or be sent to yet another Fetus. The Divine Emperor of /his/, Charles II of Spain, had taken record of the team's progress, and punishment akin to the Iraqi National Football Team was levelled against the players.

The battle against /wg/ began in solemn earnest two days later. The defense held well until the end of the 1st half on the 44th minute, when Cunt Destroyer jostled defenders offside to plant a mighty goal between the fumbling legs of Julius Caesar. Prospects of winning diminished further when Cunt Destroyer scored again at the 58th, and already sore wounds were made deeper when Jeff Goldblum scored at the 78 minute to seal the deal.

It was over. /his/ ended the Autumn Cup in last place in the group, and would be banished to the 2017 4chan Spring Babby Cup Qualifiers. Crocodile was tried for treason along with Julius Ceaser and sentenced to ten years in the /pol/-bait-thread gulag; only one of them would return.

RIP CROCODILE
"What the fuck was his problem, /his/?"
1889-1945

2017 Spring Campaign

Regaining lost territory
Their first match since being soundly defeated in the Autumn Babby Cup of 2016, /his/ had much to prove against the dastardly gays, /lgbt/. In the first half Bismark showcased his superior Prussian skills by scoring 2 goals at the 21st and 30th minutes. In the second half, the legbutts regained substantial ground, scoring 2 goals. All seemed uncertain until >Holy>Roman>Empire punched through the enemy lines and scored, securing /his/'s first win.

The second match against /wsg/ began in much the same way. In the first half >Holy>Roman>Empire scored a goal early, but after that no advances could be made on the /wsg/ defensive line. In the second half, /his/ held their ground from a series of blazing offensive maneuvers, and in the end the dynamic French duo of >Holy>Roman>Empire and Napoleon took a goal apiece to end the match 3-0, a clean sheet game for /his/.

Morale was running high, and after two successive wins, the team was prepared for the last match against the fa/tg/uys of /tg/. The battle, far from being similar to previous /his/ matches, was absent of any early blitzing scores. /tg/'s defensive line was impervious any kind of attack, and to complicate matters Los Tiburon found and exploited the weakness in /his/ defense, scoring at the 21st minute. The /his/torians pushed hard in the midfield to equalize, but they couldn't break the deadlock until >Holy>Roman>Empire saved /his/ from an unceremonious defeat at the hands of the neckbeards at the 89th minute. The battle ended in a stalemate.

Gaining new ground

Rare archival photo of the match versus /mlp/.

/his/ Command was shocked when they were drawn in to fight against the two time Elite cup winner /mlp/, so preparations were made to hold the onslaught. Hay was distributed among the men, as well as little carrots on sticks with which to tempt the horses. The battle started and the /his/torians appeared to be making good on their defensive preparations - this, in conjunction with a piercing goal by >Holy>Roman>Empire scored at the 12th minute, gave the /his/torians the faintest taste of a dream come true.

The line held throughout the majority of the match, with excellent defensive work from both sides leaving the match scoreless until >Holy>Roman>Empire struck again at the 71st minute. The horsefuckers, headed by >Rape, were able to score once, but it wasn't enough - the battle ended with a score of 2-1. /his/'s legionaries had claimed their most glorious scalp yet.

/his/'s next confrontation was against /sci/, arising from a dispute about whether psychology was a humanity or a science. The beginning of the match was high-octane, with Vlad the >>implier stamping /his/ onto the scoreboard at the 5th minute. He was joined by >Holy>Roman>Empire in the 45th minute, just a fraction into extra time for the half. On the /sci/ side, Sun of Lava/Ice snuck through the defence time and time again, scoring thrice and shattering both Wallachian and French hopes - however, Bismarck struck once at the 74th minute, bringing the scores even, and when both sides thought the match was to end in a stalemate, the chancellor swept out of nowhere in plus time (90th+5' minute) to score an absolute blooter, proving his tactical genius and sealing the match 4-3.

The third battle was against the cyclist lovers of /n/. There was little to report on the matter - the first half gave no results, with several players seen engaging in earnest debate on the role of trains in warfare. In the second half, the play resumed in earnest as both sides remembered they were here to play some motherfucking virtual divegrass, and the /his/torians fought valiantly to break the defense of /n/. Sadly, they were not able to, a matter bought frighteningly forward by I like Trains, who scored a double-header at the 67th and 74th minutes, with a cap by leading centre-forward Bepsi, who scored at the 82nd minute. In a last ditch attempt, /his/ command ordered a Banzai charge. At the forefront of this attack were Bomber Harris and Anarco-Memeism, who both scored once each - but despite several begging requests to DO IT AGAIN, BOMBER HARRIS, there was not enough fuel in the tank and /his/ was defeated 3-2.

In the Round of 16 the /his/torians were drawn to fight /tg/ again. The match, played on /tg/ home soil, smacked of all the fierceness and resolve that only a clash of D&D and old history-book smell could achieve. The score was reflective of that - and neither the /his/torians nor /tg/ were able to break the line of the other. At the 80th minute, /tg/'s utterly fictional and >neither holy nor Roman Emprah sunk one in for the opening goal of the match. Hopes for a penalty shootout were crushed swiftly by Nicol Bolas, who chimed in with a cheeky 90+'er in extra time. The match ended a 0-2 defeat.

The Spring campaign, despite its untimely end, was considered an overall success - its primary objective of securing the /his/torians their position in the 2017 Summer Cup was achieved. It was to be their first Elite tournament.

2017 Summer Campaign

Prussian Discipline OP; Please nerf Boris
After some concerning results at the end of the Spring Babby cup - their promotion to an elite team notwithstanding - /his/ had some contemplating to do. The Cup Group draw had proven highly unfavourable, with routine heavyweight /asp/ featuring prominently in the group table, in addition to serious contender /s4s/, who were positioned 7th and 16th in team Rankings respectively pre-cup. Comparatively, /his/ was ranked at 42nd. The fourth member of the cup pool, /wg/, was placed at 41st, but the battle-lines were drawn for an arduous contest for /his/ to avoid relegation.

The first skirmish of the campaign began in earnest on the 28th of July against /s4s/. JunoIvanovich, new team manager and Generalissimo, had spoken about the necessity for a Blitzkrieg, and this was proven with vigor as the dashing Bismarck blitzed one past the /s4s/ defensive lines at the 7th minute. A narrow ten-and-something-minutes later came the return fire, with Patrick Bateman capitalising after a botched defensive play to score in the 18th. Determined not to be outdone, The Prussian Prince and his >Holy>Roman doubting counterpart joined forces to sink a pair of goals at 22 and 29 minutes that would see /his/ through the majority of the match. A valiant effort by Keksandra for a cheeky 90+'er was not enough to save the match, and a 3-2 victory was joyously received by the /his/torians.

With the weight of the powerful /s4s/ shed came the prospect of a more evenly-matched team: /wg/. What was not observed, however, was the stunning performance of /wg/ in the face of /asp/, where they had prevailed 2-1 over the heavily-weighted pool favourite.

The confrontation against /wg/ took place two days later on the 30th of July, and /his/ made it clear that, much like the Japanese army in Nanjing, they would take no prisoners. Unfortunately the referee was not in agreement, and promptly BTFO Gauled for a harsh foul, exiling the barbarian to the bench. His difference on the field of battle could not have been more apparent, and a man short, Helios of /wg/ slapped an enlighting shot past the Christian Dark Ages at the 20th minute. The attack failed to galvanise the remaining /his/torians into a solid defence, and at the 27th minute Comfy took the one-man disadvantage and turned it into a 2-0 lead. The return of Gauled and a moment of beauty after halftime by >Holy>Roman>Empire could not save the matter, and /his/ lost narrowly 2-1 despite other scoring opportunities.

The situation was now quite clear. With /wg/ winging its way to a clean sweep of the group and /his/ unable to secure a victory against its closest rival, a win against /asp/ would be their only chance to move on in the cup. With time to rest and study tactics between games, the /his/torians took the field on the night of the 5th of August. What followed was a tightly-woven game of solid defense and a few heartstopping moments for /his/. The first half looked scoreless until, in the 42nd minute, sweeper Sir Arthur "Krispy Krauts" Harris bested Save One Leave One to score at the 42nd minute. /asp/ were in shock, and this state of mind persisted through the break - play had barely resumed before the /his/torians struck again, with >Holy>Roman>Empire adding a handful of incendiaries to Harris' Dresden special at the 52nd minute. From thereon out, the /asp/ force descended into shitposting about WWE. Even in the dying moments, the match escalated in brutality, and a card was issued to >airshit in the 82nd minute for a personal foul. When the battle drew to a close, /his/ was the victor, and had achieved the previously unthinkable - they were, unbelievably, on their way to their first elite knockout cup performance in their first elite cup, having triumphed over pool favourites.

/his/ v /u/ - Round of 16
The /his/torians found themselves in the land of forbidden love for their first game in the knockout of Summer 2017 - a showdown versus the /u/nicorns at St. Michael's Academy. As Charlememe and Empire For Sale took the field, they were reputedly overheard by Juno discussing whether love could bloom, even on the battlefield.

The fecund fields of St. Michael's proved an apt battleground. Not to be dissuaded by strong defense from Goggles and Onee-sama both, >Holy>Roman>Empire began the match by capitalizing on a lighting /his/ offence, bringing the visitors to a 1-0 lead. The celebration was short lived, though, as /u/ responded with several hard strikes from Akkarin - but there was nothing past the Great Wall of China until the end of half-time, when attacking midfielder Purest Form of Love put a header into the top left pocket to bring the half to a close. Animosity on the field began to rise out of a dispute over whether Cleopatra was pure or not, and in the 43rd minute Feito-chan was carded after a savage chop at the legs of Diogenes, who merely laughed off all women as whores and told Feito-chan to get the fuck out of his sunlight.

The second half opened in much the same the first had ended - intense, with heavy attacking in the midfield by /u/ quashing /his/ aggression. A second card, this one for Teru Time, was issued over a dangerous personal foul. Excellent attacking play by Akkarin and Purest Form of Love presented repeated challenges to the /his/ defensive line, and Charlememe looked set to stonewall /his/ to another draw, but a tactics switch-up by /u/ in the nearest closing moments of the match was what ultimately wrought a /his/ defeat. At 84 and 87 minutes, Midfielder Black Sunshine and centre-forward Homucifer struck once apiece to bring the score to 3-1. As was custom, divine Emperor-Coach JunoIvanovich ordered the banzai charge, and Bomber Harris was the first to man the offense, with a goal in extra time; but no amount of 'kys weebs' could revise this history. The match, and /his/'s summer 2017 season, ended with a 3-2 defeat for /his/.

2018 Winter Campaign

Step Aside Peasants; his Royal Highness takes to the Field
Strategically, there was little more that could have been done - that was the assertion of the coaching staff come the close of the Summer fighting season. His most Royal Highness Charles II, the King of Spain, Naples, Sardinia, Sicily and Burgundy, disagreed. With vigour and energy his majesty revamped the team to include himself, donned his football boots and strode out into the narrow and blustery winter cup like a colossus.

/his/ v /fit/

The team, all of them petty men, walked beneath his huge legs and basked in the shade of his majestic chin as they began their slow march towards a premiership. /fit/, having been challenged by the presence of the ultimate alpha male, were the first combatants /his/ were to face. The contest was noted in the opening minutes for a lack of control from both /his/ and /fit/, but /his/ would not bow to the aggressive style that /fit/ adopted.

...It's true, they're not really being intimidated by the muscles of /fit/. /fit/ wojak back there... whoever that is - ah, it's 'feelin' fit, buddy' - is basically ripping out of his clothes he's so ripped, but /his/ will not be intimidated.

--Marqod

Contrary to this, in fact, /his/ dominated the half in both possession and territory (63% possession with 4 shots on goal), though they were unable to capitalize immediately due to a tightly-packed defence. >Holy>Roman>Empire continued to apply pressure, starting in the 25th minute with a pass to an on-side Charles II, but despite a mighty chin swing from his majesty READ THE FUCKING STICKY made a solid save to keep the scores nil-all. Barely a minute later, a penalty conceded by Gains Goblin allowed Bismarck an attempt, but again the /fit/ goalkeeper was competent, and in such a way the game continued at an impasse until the 35th minute - where a daring chip into territory by Bismarck met an aerial strike by Charles II, which hit the post and then the back of the goalkeeper's head to award /his/ their first goal of the season (albiet not one they scored). /fit/'s strategy shift into counterattack was immediate, and a header by /fit/ striker Zyzz into the top-left pocket was saved comfortably by the new /his/ Goalkeeper, Maginot Line, to end the half 1-0.

The second half began with reasonable /fit/ offensive maneuvers, but a sudden breakthrough by >Holy>Roman>Empire to beat three offenders kept them honest, forcing the goalie into an alarming dive to save a blooter. The resulting corner gave a rare opportunity to Lutheran Shitposter, who struck well, but yet-a-fucking-gain /fit/'s goalie bore the brunt of the attack with a good save.

I saw the book moving at about the right speed - that was a power header for a non-medal [player]!

--Marqod, referring to Lutheran Shitposter's playermodel (a bible)

/fit/ scrambled to assemble a proper countermeasure, finally taking it to the /his/ defensive line in the 68th minute - a potential shot on goal by Squatz was pounced on by the Maginot Line. Occasional moments of glory emerged to keep /fit/ aggression at bay, with Gauled utterly deleting two defenders in the 75th minute to keep the ball aggressively postured. Moments later, Bomber Harris sensed the presence of the eternal g*rman and dropped a bomb that cannoned into the back of Bismarck's head, who was then also fouled for being offside. The turnabout took the ball back into /his/'s defensive half, and gave opportunity afresh to /fit/, but ultimate several brilliant and not-at-all-reflected-in-real-life defences by the Maginot Line rendered the attack inert, and the /his/torians emerged 1-0 and victorious in their first match for the season.

/his/ v /u/; Featuring 'That Goal'

"...[A] magnificent joint anthem. We're into this comfy match."

--Doyes, after the dual /his/-/u/ Anthem

It was a dignified affair at the /u/ home stadium of St. Michael's, but those on the /his/ side who were old enough to remember the previous year remembered the indignities suffered at the hands of /u/, who would go on to place second in the Summer Cup of 2017. So too were the battle lines drawn for a chance to score a revenge and pillage a few lesbians.

An honest and decent contention was made in the attack and defence of both teams; who both ran 3/5/2 to open the play - but the outcome of this was that the Macaron (/u/'s ball) remained squarely in the /his/ defensive half. A foul at the 13th minute committed by the Russian Baltic Fleet gave /u/ a threatening chance to score, but the Maginot line saved competantly. The order of attack down the /his/ line was, in much the same way as th fleet itself, also similarly mired in communication issues - /his/ could not manage to crack the /u/ seige. Matters were complicated further when Bomber Harris reaped the proverbial whirlwind a bit too hard - he recieved a yellow card for a personal foul on Friending. He left the field amid howls of frustration from the /his/ 4CC discord and fans. Moments later, the Maginot Line was subject to attack from Feito-chan, which it rebuked - but barely a few seconds had passed before Feito-chan scored a goal from a very thin angle to the Line's right-hand side.

The response to aggress was instant; with Gen. Ivanovich observing that there was too much danger to allowing /u/ unmitigated access to their half. /his/ had not offered a single strike on goal.

"Their [/his/'s] offence can't get it very far, like - they get to the midfield, and then they get the ball stolen almost immediately."

--Doyes

From here until the end of the first half ran a more contested state of play, albiet not one without substantial note from the commentary box that /u/ were contesting it all too well. >Holy>Roman>Empire attempted to put /his/ on the board with a shot in the 45th - but it was lackluster, and largely muffled by /u/ defender Black Sunshine to the point where PES did not even consider it a shot on goal. The stats told the story: /u/ had managed 4 shots, all on target at that juncture, versus /his/'s zero - all the while maintaining a two-point deficit on possession (/u/ 48%-52% /his/).

At the start of the second half, a sneak attack yielded an opportunity for Bismarck, but he was cleared confidently by /u/ defenders. The resulting momentum was sharply reverted as the ball was cleared to Purest Form of Love at the halfway mark, who utterly annihilated three /his/ defenders, making a last-second cross to Akkarin. The /u/ striker took another incredibly sharp-angled goal past the Maginot line to take the score to 2-0.

"I mean, I do question /his/ putting what is essentially a meme in the goal - *stifles laughter* - it's like, 'hey, what'd be a good player to represent our goalkeeper? The maginot line! Brilliant."

--Paval, not quite getting the joke

A preset change later to a defensive-oriented aspect left many scratching their heads. Gen. Ivanovich later admitted it was designed to lure /u/ into a false sense of security, an act that was swiftly justified. A long ball from near /his/' goal box from Diogenes found its way to >Holy>Roman>Empire, who promptly dazzled an attacker and crossed into Charles II in the centre - and oh lord, his most gracious majesty would not disappoint. In a summary of what this team really fucking means, he leapt into the air above and ahead of no less than four /u/ defenders and delivered an explosive bicycle kick from well beyond the box; rocketing the coveted Macaron into the back of the net at a blinding pace that not even the well-experienced /u/ goalkeeper Madokami could match. It was /his/' first goal scored for the cup.

He does not need wings to fly.

...Incredible. I am completely at a loss for words.

--Doyes

Spectacular... what an absolutely ludicrious cross.

--Paval

If you thought /his/ was buried, you're dead wrong.

--MBa

Suffice it to say that after that point, the commentary box was substantially less critical of the /his/ attack.

Subs were introduced at 65:00, with African Paratrooper and Caesar taking the field to replace Napoleon and Anne Frank respectively. Elsewhere, energy and fitness ran high, and /his/ was considerably more aggressive and dangerous as they moved into the last quarter.

A threatening corner from /u/, to briefly switch the flow, led to a series of repelled attacks; only one of which reached the Maginot line and was deflected. Tension and nerves ran high on the /u/ side of things, and Feito-chan was booked for a foul on Caesar in the 75th - an offence that would remove her from play from the next game (it being her second in two games). The opportunity was there. But no amount of /his/ attack could finish the job, and under immense pressure, /u/ refused to break despite a blooter from Charles that scraped the left goalpost. In the end, a strategic retreat was ordered. /his/ had taken their best and given a few moments of magic, and possession remained competitive at 50% each, but /u/ proved far more competent, and the match ended in their favour 2-1. /u/ would later go on to forge a hard-earned finals victory to claim their first star; and in this way it is worth pointing out that the relatively new /his/ could keep their head held high, even in loss that threatened to relegate them.

2018 Spring Campaign

A /his/torian's Worst Nightmare

Oh, what could've been...

Regrettably after this point, the old and embittered monk who had been writing the team history in the margins of his bible notes up until this point froze, starved, and was consumed by rats in no particular order inside a Russian gulag. What followed could only be described as a mystery lost to the ages. Shortly after the loss to /u/ came a 0-2 loss to /mlp/; which sealed the deal and left the team scattered, without hope, and relegated af. However, to leave it at merely this would not suffice. What came after the relegation was a period of six months of blackness wherein not a single game was won. This period in which absolutely no fucking match history was recorded whatsoever and everyone ate snow and grass while defending themselves from invading barbarians was referred to as 'the /his/tian Dark Ages'.

2018 Autumn Campaign

Whatever remained of any army under Charles II was now positioned somewhere between the Caucasus and the Pyrenees. Finally, after the virtual divegrass equivalent of a Bataan death march through six months of undocumented winter and spring, the team were ready, in some sense of the word, to begin forging their way back to some form of relevance. Some older players had been returned from otherwise permanent exile to fill the ranks left by starvation and cold. Even Julius Caesar took the opportunity to un-stab himself 23 times (and also un-stab the entire team, whose backs he had stabbed in 2016) just to be part of the fun, but a quick and decisive team vote kept him out of the goalie box. That job was given to newcomer General Luigi Cadorna, whose record showed a passion to give up absolutely anything any number of times to protect something thoroughly insignificant.

Autumn Qualifiers - /his/ v /a/, /i/, and /w/

A chill mist settled over the Tokyo Dome, and Kabarebe adjusted his paratrooper's cap. How had /his/ forces come to be here? This wasn't Kinshasa; this was a divegrass field. More importantly, why was the opposing team filing out of the changing rooms comprised entirely of 13 year old girls? With reckless abandon they began a game of soccer, but not too rough Kabarebe-chan, nyaa~.

It was a slow start to a slow game. Early attacking opportunities from Bebop kept The Isonzo River busy, and for operating purposes it seemed /his/ were without much organisation until a sudden and mysterious clearance led to his most serene highness Charles II with a scoring opportunity. Sensing a degree of unfairness in such an early and easy opportunity, his most gracious majesty promptly cannoned the ball into the crowd at a 45 degree angle to the goal, decapitating a spectator.

"Charles II has an attempt. Keyword being an attempt... [on viewing the replay] A literal retard."

--Doyes, shortly before getting the axe for his insolence

Shy of this attempt, the match continued with genial passing practice in and about the midfield. Confusingly for all involved, one of the /a/ players named Robocop would routinely issue offsides to his own team. It took several minutes to work out that he was, in fact, both a referee and a player. Obvious questions about potential unfairness and rigging were largely mitigated by the fact that nobody seemed particularly determined to do anything with the ball at all. Truck-kun gave up another valuable clearance in the 42nd minute to Bebop, who attacked without support to no avail. Retaliatory moves by Bismarck and Diogenes bought the ball into aggressive positions, but the half came without a goal by either side.

"This match is bought to you by Cornflakes; I like corn. We're nil-nil at the half."

--Doyes, corn enthusiast

The second half began in much the same way as the first half had ended. Lelouch (pronounced: "Lel ouch") came up with exciting opportunities for /a/ in the 62nd minute off the back of an error by a heavily marked >>Holy>Roman>Emperor, but for reasons unknown chose to pass it to Imagine instead of opting for the one on one rumble with Luigi in the Isonzo. This unbelievably disgusting and stupid play led to a /his/ interception and clearing. The /a/ manager from the side was heard screeching with rage, and while a swift round of subbings was ordered there was only continued incompetence from Lel Ouch, who gave openings for African Paratrooper to continue clearing throughout.

An elbow to the not inconsiderable chin of Charles II gave cause for Robocop to issue a free kick and ask Yotsuba to 'calm the fuck down'. Huey Long's Huey-longball led to a fierce header from Bismarck that was on target, only to have it narrowly deflected by valiant goalie-work. The /his/ throw-in to follow landed right at the feet of Bomber Harris, who navigated a defender and chipped inwards to Charles, who struck again only to be deflected - but this time the Iron Chancellor was ready to clean up the mess, sweeping through and netting the ball for /his/' first goal of Autumn in the 85th minute. The match closed out without further pressure from the outclassed /a/, and /his/ emerged victorious for the first time in six months (thank christ).

The match against /i/ began just over the road (which was, all things considered, rather convenient). Having successfully beaten one team, /his/ moved from strength to strength, posting a commanding performance on both offence and defence to boast 61% possession with 4 shots on target throughout the first half, but with no real attacking opportunities outside of a scare by >>Holy>Roman>Emperor towards the halftime horn (or, indeed, any action at all).

The second half, however, sought to defy expectations. It rapidly accelerated in aggression and scale between what had been otherwise two evenly matched teams, and culimnated in the 70th minute with Charles II beating a defender and the goalie both to slide the match's only goal past the goalkeeper.

Feeling triumphant off the back of two consecutive wins (the first time the team had such a posting under Gen. JunoIvanovich), Charles II then proceeded to pick a fight with an actual team. With /a/'s little girls having beaten a hasty retreat, the /w/eebs showed up to ascertain who exactly in their right mind would pick on a pack of their precious preteen waifus. A suggestion ventured as to the existence of certain Japanese war crimes led to battle lines being drawn and engaged on the 14th of October.

Right from the get-go, /w/ showed they would not be taken as lightly as their /a/ counterparts at all. At four minutes, Minimalist was penalised for a personal foul on Charles II. The subsequent free kick into /w/'s goalbox - cleared by defender Waifu Wars - would be one of the only times in the match /his/ would find themselves on the offensive. /w/ ran a controlling game in the midfield, and provided threats throughout the first twenty minutes, though all were foiled by decisive efforts of African paratrooper - though a sudden turnover by /w/ attackers in the midfield, followed by a chip and longball to /w/ striker Powerlevel all in the space of ten seconds awarded them a lethally clinical goal that made the Isonzo River Valley look more like a fucking puddle. Later in the first half, Minimalist would beat no less than 3 defenders to be the beneficiary of yet another aggressive and precise chip from the midfield, which led to a 2-0 just before the halftime. The stats - which showed only a 5% difference of possession between the two teams - did not bely the fact that /his/ had been on the defensive for the entire game.

The second half began with /his/ attacks. Monsieur Lindybiege took this a little bit too seriously, and ran the risk of a foul by the referee just to offer /his/ an attacking opportunity (nothing decisive) - but no sooner had the ball gone then it had come back into /his/'s half; and Powerlevel's blocked strike gave Waifu Walls the chance to score, again pummeling three defenders in the process in the 56th minute. Thankfully, /his/ managed to avoid further embarrassment in front of a large crowd in the Amphitheatrum Flavium, stabilising in the second half to put an otherwise game on for the remainder of the match. With a total of 7 shots (5 on target) to /his/'s 3 (1 on target), it was clear that despite roughly even possession the /his/torians were outgunned and outmatched by the bigger, older weebs. Regardless, finishing second in the group allowed them a route forward and an invitation to the Autumn Babby Cup. (Waiting on the Storyteller to finish)

Group Stage - /u/, /cm/, /gif/

Being drawn into group D the /his/torians found themselves facing /u/ yet again. As >Holy>Roman>Empire penetrated the line once the lesbians answered 2 times and with /u/'s infamous defensive line the /his/torians couldn't even get a draw.

The next battle promised to be an easy one since they would be facing autopilot /cm/. The first half went as planned with >Holy>Roman>Empire and Bismarck scoring. With the second half the /his/torians went defensive with /cm/ answering once, but it wasn't enough.

With the final battle of the Group Stage approaching the /his/torians needed to win or get a draw against from the autopilot /gif/ in order to advance. The first half went full :ResidentSleeper: with both teams attempting to score. The second half went the same way, in the end /his/ advanced with a draw.

Final Weekend

In the battle of the Quater Finals the /his/torians faced autopilot /3/. The first half went smooth with >Holy>Roman>Empire scoring the only goal ensuring /his/ advance in to the Quater Finals.

In the battle of the Quarter Finals the /his/torians faced /mu/ with them using tactics that confused the entire /his/ high command. The first half began with both sides trying to penetrate defenses with >Holy>Roman>Empire and Bismarck scoring. At second half /mu/ again switched tactics, but they could adapt and with >Holy>Roman>Empire penetrated /mu/'s defenses ending the match with a clean sheet.

In the battle of the Semi Finals the /his/ would be facing /vp/. /his/torians didn't forget the humiliation they were given in 2018 Spring, they wanted revenge. The match began strong for /his/ as the pressure kept /vp/ mounting an attack. With >Holy>Roman>Empire scoring 2 goals showing they're dominance. But the unexpected happened /vp/ was betrayed as I Rabbu Rirrie-Chan friendly fired demoralizing them. In the second half /vp/ couldn't do anything ensuring /his/ advance in the Finals.

First time ever the /his/torians made to the Finals, to the surprise of everyone it would be against they’re most hated rival /pol/. The match began with Hitler Blitzkrieging though /his/ defenses and attempting to answer. With the second half the /his/torians tried to penetrate /pol/ defenses, but the concentrated autism was too much and with Hitler dealing the final blow the battle was lost. After the match /his/ general had this to say: "Losing to /pol/ is humiliating especially in the Finals, but do not be sad my dear /his/torians, hold your heads high as this is our most successful Campaign in the history of /his/. The war is not over there much to be done. We shall return".

2019 Winter Campaign

It's a strange; abstract kind of Campaign
Coming off the back of a reasonable Quarter-finals appearance in the Autumn Cup '18, a sensation came over the team as had never been had before. Several new members were fully welcomed into the fray, including the hulking giant-president Taft and the cunning and equally hungry general Zhang Xun; master of the Decisive Tang strategic victory in January 757 AD. With a fresh sense of optimism and the matter of qualifying squarely settled, the rag-tag team of history's best embarked on to yet another blustery and icy Winter Cup.

Group Stages

/k/ v /his/

"Hello?" Monsieur Lindy called into the gently-shaking foliage. "Is that you, Bomber Harris? Whoever it is, just let it be known I am completely ready to surrender at any time." The trees rustled back and chattered in 2nd-amendment speak. Muh Mauser, one hissed. Implying Moist Nuggets aren't kino, came the reply. Lindybeige promptly fled through the snowy forest, tripping and stumbling his way back into the clearing where /his/'s encampment lay, where - once again - Bismarck was attempting German Unification.

The alarm was quickly raised. Trenches in the snow and hard earth were dug. Bizarrely, those trenches formed a perfect rectangular shape, the dimensions of which were perfect to play a formidable game of divegrass. It was only as the last picket was dug that Lindy realised that the enemy had been standing on the pitch the entire time. They had not been spotted because they were; of course, wearing full camo /innawoods/. A crowd gathered round, and a ball was tossed into play. A /k/ player let out a harsh BRRRRRRRT instead of a referee's whistle, and before anyone thought better to question this narrative, a divegrass game began in earnest.

The advantage of surprise did not do much to dissuade /his/ defenders - and indeed, the game would end with a combined 17 shots on goal (split 8-9 in /his/'s favour) in what quickly evolved into a furious barrage of attacking. /k/'s defenders struggled to meet the early aggression of the already-extremely-aggressive African Paratrooper. Whether or not this was because they came to the realisation that Africans have finally figured out how to use guns was irrelevant - some fine maneuvers and partial error from the centres left an opportunity open for /his/' forward pack to make their mark. A brace of attacks on goal followed - Charles II's supportive play allowed Bomber Harris to slip one in past STOPPAN POWER in the 23rd, and Monsieur Lindy even overcame his timid French ways to be the beneficiary of >Holy>Roman>Empire's cross, scoring his very first goal for /his/ in the 36th. Retaliatory counterattacks on goal by /k/ forward Zergface left good dents in Taft's mighty gut, but /k/ remained scoreless in the half and fell to a 3-0 disadvantage shortly thereafter as Bomber Harris slammed another into the nets. Moist Nugget attempted to reclaim dignity for /k/ at the 66 minute mark, but /his/'s early gains had more than made up for a second half spent entirely on the defensive. Possession was all but dead even on the buzzer [49% /k/ - /his/ 51%]. With a combined 17 shots on target in the game [8 /k/ - /his/ 9], dead-even passes completed (82% - 84%), and roughly similar numbers to interceptions and tackles, it had been an even match that was definitely not reflected in the scores.

For his extremely gallant performance throughout and for napalming the shit out of /k/'s defensive line, Bomber Harris received man of the match.

/his/ v /tv/

Back on home turf for the first time in what had seemed forever, spirits were high entering the match into the historically weak /tv/. Having just finished putting his boots on to give him an extra two inches of height, Napoleon made an impassioned speech to the other men (and Anne Frank) that if all performed their duty well then /tv/ would not stand a chance. A rousing cheer echoed from the locker-rooms of the Amphiteatrum Flavium, and the little general led the team onto the snowy field.

Bizarrely, nobody had remembered what happened the last time Napoleon led a Winter campaign against a weakened opponent. Twenty-seven astounding minutes of arrogance later, /his/ was in total disarray. /tv/ had erupted out of the gates with the full force of a history channel documentary on V-E day about Hitler's Secret Weapon, claiming a 2-0 lead. His attack was championed primary by the extremely attractive and gallant Brendan Fraser and the forceful BIG GUY himself. An emergency re-adjustment from Gen. Ivanovich (namely telling Taft to stop eating) in the 28th minute led to an almost astounding reversal of fortune by opening up attacking opportunities for Bismarck and Charles II in the midfield. The troubled and largely unprepared defensive line of /tv/ were scattered; and Bomber Harris showed the /tv/ Goalie that a plane was a far superior form of High Ground than standing on a small incline by finding the back of the net twice in six minutes. It was the fastest /his/ had returned from a such a deficit in the team's existence. The half came to a halt at 2-2 - the battered and bruised statistics once again belying the proper result - and the game remained goalless for another thirty minutes, until the mighty strides of More Wives, Your Grace? thundered from the DMF position, blooting the ball out long like it was Anne Bolyne's head. H.R.H Prince Charlie found and promptly cannoned the shot past High Ground in the 77th minute for a 3-2 scoreline that would remain until the final siren.

For his extremely gallant performance throughout and for something else that couldn't quite be remembered - but was again possibly to do with Napalm - Bomber Harris received the MVP award for a second consecutive time.

/b/ v /his/

In a non-totally meaningless Spring Babby Cup group-ender, /b/ defeated /his/ to secure a clean 12-point sweep of their group and ensure that /his/ would tumble to a wooden spoon; the team's lowest and darkest time. Despite the lack of historical records during that period; it was plain for any and all of the thousand-odd crowd to see that some calm, hardened looks had descended over the faces of /his/'s players. Exactly what terrible things had arisen during their last encounter? How did it motivate them to perform? What happened to the team in the terrible hours and nights that followed the ceremonial handing of the wooden spoon to Charles II? It was not for any to know or guess, but something murderous crept onto the field.

The referee laid the ball upon the bitch, and /b/ CMF Trolled 2 Death came face to face with >Holy>Roman>Empire. "LMaO you fUckin MAD KID," some later attested him to saying. "u mad? u mad? lol u tk him 2da bar|?" >Holy>Roman>Empire said nothing, but passed the ball back to Gaius & Aulus; who had notably stopped holding hands. The reckoning had begun.

The match did not seem out of the ordinary for some time. The /his/ forwards were adept, capable, easily outmaneuvering their /b/ counterparts, first by inches and then by feet. The defensive line began to move quicker. The Isonzo River deflected an early attempt by 60s spiderman like it was water on the guns of Austerlitz. By 10 minutes, Charles II appeared to exhibit strange, almost anomalous quantities. His running had almost began to look gainly, graceful, without effort. His muscles had swolen to twice their normal size; giving his head and chin some strange look of normality. None noticed the flickering, crackling energy that surrounded >Holy>Roman>Empire, who completely devastated all semblance of /b/ midfield aggression in idle strides. The /b/tards in the audience were ignorant of any change until Gigga Puddi attempted to slide tackle Charles II in the seventeenth minute. A burst of light and a shriek of autistic Habsburg rage was all many heard or saw; and Giga Puddi was thrown clear, the goal left open. Charles thundered his way through the net so forcefully /b/'s goalie was incapable of reacting. A silent wave of shock dispelled the chanting crowd.

And then, from over the hills beyond the stadiums; the mongolian war-horns rang out. All thirty-six of /his/' remaining supporters fell into a trance. Tri-ar-ii, Tri-ar-ii, they began chanting, softly at first but growing firmer and stronger, louder and more resonant by the second.

Charles struck again, and again. His power grew - swift, and unrelenting. The /b/ legion knew his majesty was coming, as he always had, as he always would, to feast on the blood of the wicked. >Holy>Roman>Empire shimmered in an ethereal light, and was seen to flicker in and out of this plane, stealing from /b/ midfielders and passing to any and all. His Majesty punched a hole in the net with his second goal at the 34th, and the ball was lost into the stands. Bomber Harris added a dash of fire and brimstone, spreading despair among the /b/ defenders to add a 3-0 goal before the halftime mark. The reprieve in half-time did nothing to alleviate his most gracious and royal highness' lust for revenge; and a fourth goal was born in the 59th when Charles II flexed his chin, nearly decapitating Tribute to complete his Majesty's second hat-trick on record(and causing the /b/ manager to call for an emergency changeover).

From among the ranks of /b/'s players, Gigga Puddi rallied against the unfairness. Surely this was some form of devilry; some form of madness. He sought to protest to the umpire, but was cut off as Voltaire's smirking face blinked into existence before him. >"God is a comedian playing to an audience too afraid to laugh," said the Philosopher. It was unknown what Gigga Puddi's response was; if any - he fled the field screaming and was replaced by 2Edgy4Me. This did not stop the dearth of goals. /his/'s ultimate weapon, the Mongolian Horse Archer, rode through and struck promptly in the 65th; accepting a pass from >Holy>Roman>Empire and firing it straight through FUCKIN SAVED in a fit of righteously-fuelled rage.

/b/ and its supporters fled the field. At some point it became clear that /b/ - namely, Tribute - had managed to score a goal in stoppage time in the first half. This was later determined to be incorrect - instead, Charles II had kicked the second goal so hard it had flown through the net, punched through a spectator and the stadium, flown around the planet, and landed in /his/'s own goal. The record was left un-amended as a goal for Tribute and /b/ as a show of magnanimity and mercy from his highness.

It was not clear what happened next. The team vanished. /b/ scribes burned wards and marks into the stands; a warning to all of virutal divegrass that the terror that took place must never be repeated.

Elimination Round of 16: /his/ vs /vg/

With the ticket punched to Summer the /his/torians faced the generals of /vg/ once more. Things turned to worse since Stalin himself scored 2 goals with the /his/torians only to able answer once and with that the /his/torians were purged from the Knockouts.

2019 Summer Campaign

The /co/ civil war and the destruction of the second state of /his/

The nation of /co/ went to civil war next to it lies the state of /his/.

Two break away nation formed the autonomous state of /mlp/ and the semi independent state of /aco/

/mlp/ army was mobilized while /co/ was on its was to crush them but was caught off guard by /mlp/ and /co/ was defeated

/aco/ on its bid to fight had to go through /his/ lands once realized /his/ mobilized but was caught by surprised when /aco/ forced their way through the /his/ line and lost many men while putting a small resistance slowing /aco/ to head deep into the /co/ lands Soon /mlp/ came looking for the /aco/ army found /his/ forts and decided to attack them realizing that it's under defended they attacked and won and not only they decided to destory the lands they decided to occupied most of the un destroyed land. Leaving /his/ with only a city untouched /his/topia

Meanwhile the /aco/ army was forced into a battle with /co/ and was defeated and forced /aco/ to go back heading into the /mlp/ army while /co/ is heading to /his/ topia to destory the last remaining city under /his/ rule The forces /co/ in wonder of the city on the lake of wisdom build some dreadnoughts and broke through the wall and forced their way into the city and massacred the population and the remaining forces did a last stand in the plaza while bomber haris got a plane working and with a few people from the holy roman empire left to restart a new land of /his/ while /co/ looted the city and taking whats left of /his/ and started to head back to its lands.

In the field by the burned land of /his/ /mlp/ lined the battle ready when /aco/ forces tired fought it was long and pointless as many lied dead finishing the final battle of the war before the /co/ lands conference /mlp/ will be independent keeping its land it conquered from /his/ and since many dies the land became core pony land in short order

/aco/ was forced to be part of /co/ but under a condition that it can breakway in winter of next year with a referendum but has to give up the land it had once under /his/ to be part of /co/

/co/ took over the /aco/ lands once under. /his/ and /his/topia where the remaining people of /his/ went there to live in under /co/ rule as a puppet state.

Over time the lands around /his/topia became core /co/ lands while the /his/ topia slowly became depopulated and by winter it was nothing but an abandoned ruins. No.one knows where they went but what its known is a sighting of what appears to be a plane.

2019 Autumn Campaign

In the great and expansive nation of Riglandia sits the great babby plains. It is a fertile plain, but it is one that is cursed. Every winter, the land runs cold with ice, death, and own goals. Every summer, the land becomes scorched and dry. To survive, the lesser tribes who inhabit the plain must cross the Mountains of PES - the large, sweeping range that separates the babby plains from the elite valley, a land of paradise where everything is nice, warm, and unrigged throughout the year.

As winter set, the Townsend group was formed by the clans of /his/, /mu/, /out/, and /ck/. They had resolved to make the trip through the mountains - but winter set in earlier than expected. With limited food supplies and stuck in the middle of pass it was only a matter of time till insanity came in. When food ran out, /mu/ decided to kill /ck/'s horses and eat them, thus leaving /ck/ with nothing to live on. At the same time, there was a fight over the last crate of mangoes between /his/ and /out/. Taft fought well over the coveted mango ball, but >Ultralight came on top and took the crate.

/ck/, now desperate, attacked /his/ for food. This was not any normal food, but human meat. Although /his/ won and killed all but two of /ck/, Fast Food Autism and Perfect coffee survived and escaped back onto the Babby plains. /out/ and /mu/ fought over some rabbit scraps. The fight was hard, but both teams were weakened by undernourishment, and no one was killed. As Mangum fought single handedly against Smokey, Anon's Happy Floote and Carin managed to separate the fighting. A truce was made. Both teams resolved to rig the fuck up and help each other at the cost of /his/.

A few nights later, /his/ decided on a last mad dash to the winter elites; but /mu/ >blocked its path. Despite a valiant effort from Taft, Magnum was far too powerful, and /his/ was too tired to fight on any more. Only President Taft and his royal highness Charles II had enough energy to escape. The rest were cannibalized by /mu/ and /out/ as they crossed the pass and into the elite lands. Defeated, and with no other choice choice, the surviving /his/ clan members headed back out to the Babby plains to dig in for the harsh winter.

Rumors say, however, that that other /his/ clan members lived. They say that out in the Blizzards, they can see a Fingolian on a Mammoth, and the distant 'UUUUUUUUUUUU' of the Mongolian throat-singers on the winds.

Only time can tell if they live and reform the clan to attempt the crossing in spring as this winter was very harsh.