Potty of Ale Cup (EVERYTHING THREAD)

[Apox]

Sign-ups

Welcome one and all to the first EVER Dwile Flonking tournament here on NS! This tournament is being held in Apox, and the prestigious Flonking grounds, 5 miles to the North of Dwile in the secluded glade to be found there. We are pleased to announce that Apoxian Ale company "Get it down yer" are the sponsors of this event.

It this thread, please post your rosters and RP's. The scores will also be fond in this thread. I don't plan on starting scorination until the weekend, and sign-ups will remain open until that time, or until 20 is reached.

A special type of referee is designed for this game, and if you go to the sign-up thread, you will find that a band can be the referee as they start and stop the music. As such, if your nations have any budding folk or country bands, please list them in your roster posts, and they will be used as the referees for this tournament.

Your rosters can be as ornate as you wish of course, but as a minimum, you should provide a roster of 12 players, perhaps with a substitute or ten, and a coach should you wish. A list of the order in which the flonkers flonk in should be provided. For this I've had to modify the style modifiers, which are below:

Code: Select all

I give my opponent permission to:
[b]Choose my flonkers:[/b] Y/N
[b]Injure my flonkers:[/b] Y/N
[b]Godmod scoring events: [/b] Y/N
[b]Godmod injuries (such as death by massive intake of alcohol etc.[/b] Y/N

Stadium:
The prestigious Flonking Grounds are large and spacious, and while not having any stands, many people can fit inside this large clearing, where up to three matches can be played at once. Once many people are inside it's quite a carnival atmosphere.


Accomodation:
All visiting teams and officials will be staying in the large Zenith Castle, which is on the hillside, 2 miles from the Flonking clearing.


List of referees/bands:
Ye All Apoxian Country Flonking Band

Format
3 Groups of 6, with the top two advancing to the quarter-finals along with the top two 3rd placed teams. Cut-off will occur around 8pm UTC, though there may be still variations in time
MD1: 1 vs 2, 3 vs 4, 5 vs 6
MD2: 1 vs 3, 2 vs 5, 4 vs 6
MD3: 1 vs 4, 2 vs 6, 3 vs 5
MD4: 1 vs 5, 2 vs 4, 3 vs 6
MD5: 1 vs 6, 2 vs 3, 4 vs 5

Schedule
27th January - MD1
28th January - MD2
29th January - MD3
30th January - MD4
31st January - MD5
1st February - MD6
3rd February - Quarter-Finals
5th February - Semi-Finals
7th February - Final/3PPO

Groups
Group 1
Mashiki
Wight
Apox
Darmen
Happy Happy Joy Joy
Democratic States of Fenbar

Group 2
Mapletish
Slembana
Commune-PDTv2
Denras
Lymantatia
Old Guard

Group 3
Vaugania
Soviet Canuckistan
Farfadillis
Neu Engollian
Kinitaria
The Serbian Empire

[Apox]

Apox Dwile Flonking Squad

The home team will be pleased to represent their country and are an assorted group of alcoholics and amateur sportspeople who participate in Dwile Flonking at least occasionally.

Captain and Coach: Trevor Finley
Team Pundit: Wilam Frost (he carries a loudspeaker and narrates the Apox games from the side)

Team (in Flonking order)

1: Gerry Winklebottom
2: Mac Kew
3: Jess Nackaw
4: Trevor Finley
5: Sam Frew
6: Ben Smith
7: James Scott
8: Rachel Lockwood
9: Sabine Masther
10: Ted Noble
11: Oliver Y
12: George Bantam

Subs
1: Cass Gould
2: Richard Healey
3: Jack Moses
4: Iona Cartwright
5: Jacob Smith

I give my opponent permission to:
Choose my flonkers: Y
Injure my flonkers: Y (not to bad)
Godmod scoring events: Y
Godmod injuries (such as death by massive intake of alcohol etc. N

[Commune-PDTv2]

OOC: This sort of follows on from the WCQ RP I started then had to leave ... Thank you, my broadband provider ...

---

Dear Prof. Julius Gubbers,

During the stay of ex-Paradystopi minister; Friedrich Hjken within the Commune, word of a curious sport has met my attention; Dwile Flonking. Keen to display our proficiency at all forms of sporting competition, we accepted the invitation to participate. Sadly, it has come to my attention that this so-called 'sport' involves the gross over-consumption of fermented grain. As you are undoubtedly aware, in the Commune, we abhor all recreation drugs and this leaves us in a tricky situation whereby the alcoholic tolerances required to successfully compete can scarcely be expected to be met by our humble subjects. There is, however, another solution. A solution I demand you Dear Julius, to acheive.

Upon retrieving Mr. Hjken from his repulsive hole in Paradystopia, it became apparent that Friedrich had taken to the consumption of a great deal of alcohol. I have decided that although he is a worthless fool and unfit to carry out the higher purpose I initially had intended, his 'experience' with beer may prove useful after all.

My desire is that you clone the poor idiot enough times to create a great squad of Dwile Flonkers and set them on a punitive regimen of training (including Mr. Hjken, as we wouldn't want him to miss his moment of glory, would we?) As recently pointed out by that damn Wightling emissary, clones are prone to swift changes in their sobriety upon exposure to ethanol. I am trusting you, Professor Gubbers to change this.

Do not disappoint me.

Yours Sincerely

Sigismund Krenek, Holy Father of the Communadi

dictated, but not read

---

Our Exalted Patriarch

Firstly, I wish to thank you whole-heartedly for your trust in my abilities. I have now done as you wished. Find attached the squad list for the Apoxian tournament of Dwile Flonking.

For the Glory of the Commune.

Yours Unreservedly

Prof. Julius Gubbers

---

Communadi Dwile Flonking Squad ~ df01

1.  dfm1.01gub~#IN-hjken;03gubbers~AND:{Aegir}
2.  dfm1.01gub~#IN-hjken;0Bgubbers~AND:{Mbaba Mwana Waresa}
3.  dfm1.01gub~#IN-hjken;07gubbers~AND:{Bacchus}
4.  dfm1.01gub~#IN-hjken;08gubbers~AND:{Silenus}
5.  dfm1.01gub~#IN-hjken;1Fgubbers~AND:{Raugupatis}
6.  dfm1.01gub~#IN-hjken;12gubbers~AND:{Dionysus}
7.  dfm1.01gub~#IN-hjken;15gubbers~AND:{Ninkasi}
8.  dfm1.01gub~#IN-hjken;2Dgubbers~AND:{Bragi}
9.  dfm1.01gub~#IN-hjken;16gubbers~AND:{Osiris}
10. friedrich.{Hjken}~#xPDTx
11. dfm1.01gub~#IN-hjken;17gubbers~AND:{Tezcatzontecatl}
12. dfm1.01gub~#IN-hjken;1Agubbers~AND:{Yasigi}
13. dfm1.01gub~#IN-hjken;1Egubbers~AND:{Radegast}
14. dfm1.01gub~#IN-hjken;30gubbers~AND:{Maximon}
15. dfm1.01gub~#IN-hjken;31gubbers~AND:{Mok Chi}
16. dfm1.01gub~#IN-hjken;33gubbers~AND:{Ogoun}
17. dfm1.01gub~#IN-hjken;35gubbers~AND:{Saint Brigid}
18. dfm1.01gub~#IN-hjken;23gubbers~AND:{Ragutiene}
19. dfm1.01gub~#IN-hjken;25gubbers~AND:{Geshtinana}
20. dfm1.01gub~#IN-hjken;29gubbers~AND:{Sabazios}

(feel free to use full names, but the { } indicates the shorter version)

Above is the squad. It's pretty much a load of clones of Friedrich Hjken with the names of various alcohol-or-such related deities. As they're all very similar, feel free to pick a line-up for your match on my behalf, or just use the top twelve in that order. The one rule is that should you alter my line-up, it must include #10, Hjken. Thank you.

I give my opponent permission to:
Choose my flonkers: Y
Injure my flonkers: Y (excluding #10, Hjken)
Godmod scoring events: Y
Godmod injuries (such as death by massive intake of alcohol etc. Y (excluding #10, Hjken)

Go crazy. Just as long as I've enough players left to make the final, it's all good. (I'm not assuming I'm gonna make the final, but I'd prefer to have enough players to compete should I do)

[Wight]

.

[The Serbian Empire]

The Serbian Empire held a contest searching for people willing to participate in this event. Somehow we got 16 willing to consume insane amounts of alcohol.

Flonker Order:

1. Radim Goranovic
2. Jovan Kovacevic
3. Alen Mursak
4. Franjo Horvat
5. Andrej Stojanovic
6. Bojan Brankovic
7. Darko Gavrilocevic
8. Dragan Zoric
9. Goran Ninkovic
10. Lubomir Ilijavic
11. Milos Vrbata
12. Andrej Filipovic

Backups
B1: Simo Bogusevic
B2: Slobodan Sreckovic
B3: Ales Markovic
B4: Zlatan Gordanovic

I give my opponent permission to:
Choose my flonkers: Y
Injure my flonkers: Y
Godmod scoring events: Y
Godmod injuries (such as death by massive intake of alcohol etc. N

[Democratic States of Fenbar]

North Vale Public House, Oldcastle, just before last orders...

'Right lads, we've been waiting for some sort of international Dwile-Flonking tournament to come round for ages. It's finally here, and we've had a letter from the Ministry for Sport. As we are the only Dwile-Flonking team, amateur or professional, in the entire country, we have been selected to represent our proud nation at the Potty of Ale Cup in Apox.'

Greg looked down at his list. He was quite pleased with his team. There was his star Flonker, Jonny Dale, his younger brother and sister (twins) who would be at the top of the Flonking order, and then him in the middle as Captain and Player-Coach. He just wished his best friend Tommy could have been there, but he was still recovering from that stroke he mysteriously had a few weeks ago. Who knew how that had happened. One minute they were just finishing off their 19th beer of the night, and the next Tommy was lying on the floor, he his beer-belly sticking out like a Christmas pudding...

'Am I on the list Greggy?'

Greg turned around and groaned. He had forgotten about Geoff. Geoff was possibly the worst Flonker he had ever seen, and he had to include him in the squad because off Tommy's 'injury'.

'Yes, you are Geoff. I've put you down as eighth reserve. That way we may possibly never have to see you perform your antics'

Greg sighed and glanced back down at his list. A pretty good team, all in all...

North Vale Pub Dwile-Flonking Squad List
Player Name              Age           
01. Bobby Nevins          27
02. Lucy Nevins           27
03. Jonny Dale            32
04. Greg Nevins           31  Captain + Coach
05. Timmy Nolan           22
06. Fred Sandy            37
07. Hamish Gord           29
08. Sam Reder             35
09. Kevin Sandy           34
10. Dave Oliver           56
11. Chris Durnham         26
12. Nancy Buncombe        19

13. James Wakerell        33
14. Alan Swallow          32
15. Harry Jenkins         38
16. Delia Jones           30
17. Gordon Dewil          32
18. John Graham           35
19. Henry Tames           40
20. Geoff Holder          31

I give my opponent permission to:
Choose my flonkers: Y
Injure my flonkers: Y
Godmod scoring events:  Y
Godmod injuries (such as death by massive intake of alcohol etc. Y

[Neu Engollon]

When notified that there was an international drinking event involving ale that the notorious beer hounds of Neu Engollon were not involved in, the appropriate FA Ministry peon was found and flogged mercilessly with keg hoses. A team was gathered post-haste:

THE GLORIOUS STUMBLING GOATS OF NEU ENGOLLON'S DWILE FLONKING CREW

Captain and Coach: Tobias Goerdun
Assistant Coach: Hoppy Jensen (Head Master Brewer of Burgunden Breuerie)


Team (in Flonking order)

1. Albrecht Sertachser
2. Daniel Nemaus
3. Jacques Setrand
4. Guillaume Mendelsohn
5. Frederick Richter
6. Steffen Ziemaken
7. Gennaro Ignacio
8. Luciano Pitacci
9. Mario Garaldo
10. Orlando Lamaggia
11. Emile Vincent
12. Ernst Giffenhas

Subs:

13. Horst Berbach
14. Efisio Sormacci
15. Fritz von Niermeier
16. Gunther Heinz
17. Andino Romatti
18. Hubert Ouemette
19. Rudi Fenzheim
20. Coach Goerdun or Coach Jensen (who could drink just about any man, woman or water buffalo under the table)

I give my opponent permission to:
Choose my flonkers: Y
Injure my flonkers: Y (Please TG me first)
Godmod scoring events: Y
Godmod injuries (such as death by massive intake of alcohol etc.) Sure, just don't decimate my team so I'm out of subs, TG me please.

[Lymantatia]

Team in (Flonking Order):
John Travers, William Travers, Henry Johnson, Edmund Schwartz, Sylvanus O'Keefe, John O'Connor, William O'Rourke, Alexander MacGuire, John McFarland, Alexander Johns, Stephan Johnson, Johannes Bauer, Edward Bauer

I give my opponent permission to:
Choose my flonkers: Y
Injure my flonkers: N
Godmod scoring events: Y
Godmod injuries (such as death by massive intake of alcohol etc. N

[Soviet Canuckistan]

It was a cold winter's day in downtown Moscawa, cars clogged the streets for the evening rush hour, their headlights illuminating the darkness. Inside a tall office tower, the one bar in the building, the Amber Pub, was clogged to capacity with people grabbing a quick post-work drink before heading home. In the corner was a tiny bulletin board that looked like it had been neglected for years. Yellowed ads for furniture and local businesses all competed for space. Barney, a plump man in his fifties walked by the board with a fresh paper in hand, it was a signup sheet to be on the National Flonking Team, on it were some rules and 17 spots. Days passed, one or two entries a day on a good day, none for most days. Slowly but surely, the team filled up and was ready to be sent off to Apox for their first competition.



Soviet Canuckistani National Flonking Team

(In order of flonking) (Ages in parentheses)

1.Maxim Cavalier (28)
2.Chantal Cavalier (26)
3.Sergei Salovich (30)
4.Svetlana Salovich (27)
5.Carl Kesselschmidt (42)
6.Brock Scaphauer (18)
7.Barney Gallbrecht (Captain) (56)
8.Francine Gallbrecht (58)
9.Julien Porteux (21)
10.Kyle Smith (24)
11.Alana Smith (25)
12.Anna Koopscau (42)

Subs:
1.Herman Selutrivi (63)
2.Roxanne Selutrivi (57)
3.Vivianne LaRoche (46)
4.Pierre LaRoche (48)
5.Andrej Sibelivic (27)

I give my opponent permission to:
Choose my flonkers: Y
Injure my flonkers: Y(Only accidents caused by alcohol)
Godmod scoring events: Y
Godmod injuries (such as death by massive intake of alcohol etc. Y (See above)

[Apox]

HOST ANNOUNCEMENT

The schedule and Group have been added, and I've entered my puppet to make up numbers. If anyone here has a puppet they want to add, I'll quite happily swap as I won't be using Old Guard except for making up numbers. Similarly, if you know of anyone who might want to take part, they can be swapped in.

The first scorination will take place in around two days time, with the scorination taking place at 10pm UTC instead of 8pm because of a previous commitment. You have until then to post any more rosters or pre-tournament RPs. Thank you.

[Commune-PDTv2]

"So ... this is Dwile ..."

It took a short while for Friedrich Hjken's eyes to adjust to sunlight. He had been held captive within Building001 for quite some time and having only the three Sigismund brothers for company had driven him to pledge to become a hermit for the rest of his life. That is, should he ever escape the damn Communadi. He drew in a long lungful of air. The lack of that strange stagnant industrial taste was positively idyllic.

"Move along Mr. Hjken"

Alpha Sigismund stood behind him. Although classed officially as a coach, he was only there to ensure Friedrich didn't try to escape. The rest of the squad stood silently, waiting for Alpha's order. It was an uneasy feeling being amongst 19 genetic replicas of yourself and although they didn't look exactly like him, there was a general appearance of a particularly awkward family gathering. During the coach ride, Friedrich had attempted to initiate a conversation with one of his teammates but the clones didn't seem the socialable type ...

"Hi."
"Hello Friedrich Hjken."
"You're Maximon? Yes?"
"You are mistaken, I am Ninkasi."
"Oh. Sorry."
" ... "
"How are you?"
"I am well."
"Good."
" ... "
" ... err ... Are you looking forward to the Dwile Flonking then? ... Ready to score a few Marthas?"
"Yes."
" ... "
" ... "
"Good."
" ... "
" ... err ... "
" ... "
" ... nevermind."

But now he stood in the sunlight. There were other people milling around that weren't deranged androids, hideous mutants or the loquacious clones. Looking down the road, he espied a pub and gazed longingly at the happy people in the window. Alpha looked up from the register he was conducting.

"Now now Mr Hjken. We can't have you spoiling your appetite can we?"
"Training."
"Excuse me?"
"Training purposes. Acclimatise ourselves to the local beer. Look! It says 'Get it down yer' on the sign. It's a great oppurtunity to practise our drinking and ... err ... "

He looked around the blank faces of the clones.

" ... bond as a team, have a bit of fun ... you know? ... "
"Fun, Mr. Hjken?"

Alpha stowed his tablet device under his arm, sighed and looked at the pub. His eyes narrowed as he stared at a happy couple in the window seat. His green pupil flashed red and in an instant the glass in the young mans hand exploded, covering the poor man and his partner in beer and broken glass. The woman screamed, then the man as he noticed a large shard of glass protruding from his right palm. The atmosphere in the pub turned in an instant from jovial conviviality to one of panic and confusion. Alpha chuckled to himself.

"That is my idea of fun Mr. Hjken. We are not here to 'bond as a team' or enjoy ourselves. We are here to emerge victorious. For the glory of the Commune!"
"For the glory of the Commune!"

Friedrich jumped as every clone echoed Alpha in unison.

" ... and now we are all present and correct, we make for Zenith Castle."

The clones began filing off. Walking synchonistically in the direction Alpha had gestured. Friedrich looked back at the pub. The young man was sat on the road outside receiving some rudimentary first aid from a bystander. Turning, he watched the clones marching up the street in silence towards Zenith Castle. He gave one last look at the young man then slowly followed the team.

[Mapletish]

The Flonking Crew of the Clueless

The rather clueless team of flonkers is pleased to represent Mapletish for the flonking event, despite not knowing what they are supposed to do. A rather non-alcoholic country, we shall see what these rare "amateur" sportspeople do.

Captain and Coach : Gayelord Shayne
Useless and Nonsensical Team Pundit : Lovell Ellis

Team in Flonking order:

Lenard Dewayne
Courtney Chip
Winton Johnathon
Darby Isaac
Elwin Jayden
John the Great
John the Useless
John the Sick
Tommy the Pervert
Peyton the Extreme Dfer
Sileneus the Unknown
Ted Nobility Load

You give my opponent permission to:
Choose my flonkers: Y
Injure my flonkers: Y (not too bad)
Godmod scoring events: Y
Godmod injuries (such as death by massive intake of alcohol etc. N

[Vaugania]

I give my opponent permission to:
Choose my flonkers: Y
Injure my flonkers: Y (The more outlandish, the better)
Godmod scoring events: Y
Godmod injuries (such as death by massive intake of alcohol etc. Y, but TG me if you want to kill someone

Coach: Bradley O'Reilly
Band: Armagh Folk Players

Flonkers (in order):
1. Arnie MacGuinness
2. Finnegan O'Brien (C)
3. Kelan Breckenridge
4. Riley Ferguson
5. Brian Finn
6. Alan Monaghan
7. Liam Maguire
8. Conan Cody
9. Stephen Walsh
10. Carson Hayes
11. Ryan Gallagher
12. Jamie O'Keefe

Subs:
1. Arthur Kelly
2. Red Riordan
3. Coleman McCarty
4. Kevin O'Connor
5. Niall McClain

---

A sharply dressed man from the Department of Sports walked throught the halls of O'Donnell University. The school was located in a suburb of Agri, called Armagh. This would be where this govenrment official, Bradley O'Reilly, would muster the prospective national Dwile Flonking team. The university was the perfect place to find such "athletes". For students at this school were notorious for be able to knock back a varied assortment of frosty adult beverages. Bradley was determined to find what he was looking for here.

"You want us to..." Red Riordan said as he paused to belch, "...do what now?"

"I want you fine young gentlemen to be Vaugania's national dwile flonking team," O'Reilly told them as he looked at the 17 students seated before him. All of the men were in their own particular stare of drunkeness. Stephen Walsh stared ahead with eyes glazed over. It was unknown whether he was conscious. Brian Finn was leaned back in his chair, half asleep, but apparently able to understand what was happening.

"What's that?" Brian piped up.

"Well, basically, you all dance around in a circle and..."

Coleman McCarty cut him off, "Ooh. I love dancing." He rose from his chair and pretended to be a ballerina. That is if ballerinas were drunk all of the time and lacked any sense of balance. He finished with a sloppy pirouette and smacked into wall, falling backwards into the lap of the sleeping Alan Monaghan.

"As I was saying," continued Bradley, "Then you try to avoid to beer soaked rag thrown at you by the other team. Do you guys understand?"

"Hhnplbesidkxfdahjbtnnballwbflrd," replied Finnegan O'Brien. He then fell to the floor amid the empty beer bottles and cracked plastic cups.

"It seems I've found my captain," Bradley smiled down at the unconscious 22 year old.

"Hold up there Mr. Governumeranter," Red Riordan slurred, "We'll only do this on one condition. That we get to drink... a lot."

"Deal."

[Mashiki]

A pub in Baltana was what it used to be. Just a simple place for those that wanted to go and drink and be merry. A place for men who lived a simplistic lifestyle and had nothing really to say for themselves, they had had no variation in the life that they led; and none of them really seemed to be that bothered, that is until one man came to that pub on that one night. Ravanov Yanchoski had arrived in Baltana only a few months ago, but he didn't like the way things happened around this place. He wanted things to change, and as soon as that thought entered his head, there was no stopping him.

He called together the men that stood around in The Lakeside Griffin, and challenged them. He challenged them to do something good in their lives, just for once, and one thing only. Then he would leave them. Ravanov promised that he would help them in any way that was humanely possible to succeed. So them men agreed to this challenge, and they began to plow away at what they wanted to do. The men came together and decided they wanted to do something that they all thought would be a bit of a laugh, but at the same time would help them come out stronger together, and give them a sense of achievement in their life. So they agreed there was only one real option for them to take...

Dwile Flonking.

They had practised every night for years, and they all really enjoyed it, so it seemed like the perfect thing to do. They were all pretty good at it as well, or at least they thought they were, but they'd have to wait and see what the other teams would be like. Upon encountering Ravanov and consulting him about the idea, he seemed perplexed, but understood, and he agreed to be their coach. And so there it was, The Lakeside Griffin National Dwile Flonking Team. And before they knew it, the National Team Offices in St Bradley's agreed for them to fly to the World Cup in Apox, Esportiva.

---

Mashik National Dwile Flonking Team (The Lakeside Griffin, Baltana) - Roster
Name - Age

Coach: Ravanov Yanchoski

First Team:

Substitutes:

1. Hivenk Ranalafez - 26

13. Forreno Palenta - 41

2. Marcusa Gureeshka - 31

14. Uzbarka Janetti - 38

3. Jakob Hespenta - 25 (C)

15. Madevlen Dudonskov - 32

4. Dylen Ranalafez - 23

16. Pilap Wizden - 36

5. Firmeno Republica - 40

17. Nonak Redevlik - 24

6. Norik Culada - 29


7. Henriquez Yu - 18


8. Siddem Hakavo - 23


9. Tarine Kukelavic - 35


10. Mavella Novgot - 28


11. Janad Oviella - 22


12. Iginito Hakera - 16

---

I give my opponent permission to:
Choose my flonkers: Y
Injure my flonkers: Y
Godmod scoring events: Y
Godmod injuries: Y (No Death)
Basically, do whatever you want to them, just don't kill them

[Apox]

CUT-OFF

While you wait, enjoy this visual representation of Dwile Flonking:

Group 1
Mashiki 10–8 Wight Refereed by: Ye All Apoxian Country Flonking Band
Apox 1–8 Darmen Refereed by: Polka Dot Folk Band
Happy Happy Joy Joy 7–24 Democratic States of Fenbar Refereed by: Armagh Folk Players

Group 2
Mapletish 12–5 Slembana Refereed by: Polka Dot Folk Band
Commune-PDTv2 20–8 Denras Refereed by: Ye All Apoxian Country Flonking Band
Lymantatia 15–24 Old Guard Refereed by: Armagh Folk Players

Group 3
Vaugania 8–6 Soviet Canuckistan Refereed by: Armagh Folk Players
Farfadillis 4–7 Neu Engollian Refereed by: Polka Dot Folk Band
Kinitaria 3–10 The Serbian Empire Refereed by: Ye All Apoxian Country Flonking Band

Tables to come tomorrow...

[The Serbian Empire]

"Glug, glug... I can barely sit let alone stand," Radim Goranovic stammers in a drunken stupor.

That is one of the quotes of the Serbian Empire's Dwile Flonking team members as most of them have fallen asleep to recuperate from their heavy drinking. The backups however are still somewhat sober as they were cycled in to increase our odds of scoring and to prevent the lighter weight members from passing out or worse.

"I can't even remember the score that is how much I drank," said Ales Markovic.

The recap, The Serbian Empire 10, Kinitaria 3

[Wight]

.

[Vaugania]

"Pot pot pot pot," came the chants of the Soviet Canuckistani squad. Alan Monaghan had missed his mark yet again. Swadged, he was. He poured ale down his gullet like a waterfall over a cliff. You could see the panic in his eyes as he drank. Things were coming down to the wire and with such a close match, 7-6 Vaugania at the time, he couldn't afford not to be a swadgecoper.

The last bit of alcohol passed over his lips just in time. He raised his arms in triumph and stumbled towards his team. After some pats on the back, he moved towards the Armagh Folk Players, who were officiating this inaugural dwile flonking match. He gave a big hug to accordion player and wouldn't let go. The musician tried pushing him off, but Alan squeezed tighter.

"A little help here, guys?" the accordion player asked.

Two other band members pried Monaghan off of Jack, the poor instrumentalist, but Alan wouldn't leave until he got his hug. A particularly stocky gentleman walked up to Alan with his fiddle.

"Alan," Coach O'Reilly sang out nervously, "Why don't you leave the big, scary man alone and come back over here?"

"Must... get... hug," Alan mumbled and showed no signs of retreat. The fiddle player certainly wasn't going to take kindly to this college lad. He smacked on top of the head with his fiddle and gave him a punch to the stomach. Monaghan tried moving around the behemoth to return to the accordion.

"Oh dear," Bradley sighed, knowing there was nothing he could do. Then without warning, the big fiddle player lept into the air with a single spin, then planted his foot directly in Alan's face. The drunk fell backwards into the grass while the musician reassumed his place in the band. "Now what on earth are the chances of that!" exclaimed O'Reilly, "Conan! Brian! Get your sorry butts over here and do something with Monaghan!"

The two men stumbled over to the place where Alan lay and dragged their bloodied comrade away from the scene of the incident. Conan later returned to grab the two two teeth missing from Alan's smile. There wasn't much they could do beyond that because you should never trust someone to perform first aid when they've been drinking that heavily.

"Arthur! You're in!" O'Reilly barked. No response came from the mass of drunks. "Arthur!" He then spotted him a ways from the rest of the team, laying in a puddle of mud. "Blazes, man! You haven't even been playing and you're drunk! Red, you're up."

"Sure thing, boss," the substitute fired back.

"It's about time someone is sober enought to make a sentence," muttered the coach.

[Commune-PDTv2]

(ooc: for some inexplicable reason, Apoxian dwile flonking officials have a broad South Yorkshire accent)

It was a balmy afternoon, there were crowds of happy spectators already well on the way to inhebriation, the bands were playing merrily to themselves. A picture of rural gaiety.

Then the Communadi arrived.

Friedrich still couldn't believe how seriously Alpha was taking things. Everything for the glory of the sodding Commune, he was like a broken record at times. He even stopped Friedrich from having a 'warm-up' drink. Several of the other games had already taken place and on their way to the competition area Friedrich stepped over The Serbian Empire's Franjo Horvat, who was fast asleep and snoring loudly on the grass amidst the throngs of onlookers.

They reached their area of competition, the Denras team were already there and appeared slightly tipsy. Alpha looked disgustedly at them. He obviously didn't think much for this sport. A stout gentleman with ruddy cheeks waddled towards them.

"A'thee 'Commune?"

Alpha practically spat his response.

"What?"
"Arr thee 'Commune lad?"
"We are the dwile flonking representatives of the Glorious Commune-PDT.v2, if that is what you're attempting to ask?"
"A'reet lad. No need t'be nasty now. If yuh get thi'sens inna circle, Denras uh flonking first, will crack on."
"What?!"
"Get ... yuh team ... inna circle ... and ... we'll ... start. Reet?"

Alpha scowled, he didn't appreciate being patronised very much indeed. Friedrich had found the whole conversation hilarious. The team formed their circle. Friedrich thought he was holding hands with Bragi and Tezcatzontecatl but he wasn't quite sure. It wasn't like they were going to talk to him anyway. A whistle blew and the band started up. They were off.

He could see the determination in the clones eyes, which were fixed upon the driveller. The first shot missed. Ninkasi deftly jumping over the shot which flew at his legs. The second flonk however, found its mark. In a sneaky move the Denras player flicked the dwile over his head and straight into the face of Aegir. It was at this point that the team discovered that Julius Gubbers attempt to increase the clones tolerance hadn't gone exactly to plan. Aegir slowly licked his lips, screwed his face slightly at the bitter taste, contemplated for a minute then went

"WooooooOOOoooooo!"

Alpha looked horrified and the crowd roared with laughter. The official stepped forward.

"Three points t'Denras. Next flonker please."

After that debacle, Alpha's steely stare encouraged the other members of the team to take extra care in avoiding the dwile. Aegir begun singing a song about the colour green, stopping occaisionally to shout 'For the glory of the Commune' or something not dissimilar to it. This had the effect of provoking all the other clones to echo his shout. It was turning into quite a fiasco. Friedrich was holding back laughter, for he could see the rage building in Alpha eyes.

Denras finished with a meagre 8 points and given the skill the Communadi had shown in forcing swadges, they were rather worse for wear. No-one was quite as bad as Aegir though. Alpha gathered the team together for a quick team-talk prior to the Communadi flonking.

"I like green. Green is nice. It ... mmmmm er mmm. Something rice. Blue is ... blue ... and ..."
"Will somebody please shut Aegir up?"

Bragi punched Aegir quite hard on the arm and he fell over, but it managed to shut him up for a while. Alpha gave an appreciative nod towards Bragi and continued.

"We only have to get nine points to claim victory. Your opponents are ... how should I put this? ... stinking drunk. We cannot fail. For the Glory of the Commune!"
"For the Glory of the Commune!"
"Futher girly of a ... Moon!"

Mbaba Mwana Waresa stepped up as first flonker. Alpha decided to keep Aegir back for a while in an attempt to sober him up. Aegir, having scrambled to his feet, stumbled over to Alpha. He put a hand around Alpha's shoulder and whispered in his ear.

"Affa ... Affa, you're awesome ... I love you."
"Maximon? You'll be flonking in Aegir's place."

Alpha slowly removed Aegir hand from his shoulder, holding it like you would a mouldy teabag and then with furious speed and power, his other arm elbowed Aegir square in the nose, breaking it and knocking him clean unconsious. Falling on his back, Aegir began making a grotesque gurgling sound. With a swift kick, Alpha rolled him onto his front where he promptly vomitted a bloody mess onto the grass.

The rest of the game was a simple affair. Friedrich was the only player to swadge but his determination to drink something alcoholic combined with the state of the Denras team meant he succeeded easily in becoming a swadgecoper and even placed the empty potty upside-down onto his head in celebration.

The match finished 20-8 in the Commune's favour. The smell of the slops had had a slight effect of some of the clones and Friedrich even managed to have a conversation with Silenus about football as together they dragged the unconcious Aegir back to Zenith Castle.

[Apox]

CUT-OFF

While you wait, here's a fun picture of a platypus...

Group 1
Mashiki 5–11 Apox Refereed by: Polka Dot Folk Band
Wight 11–8 Happy Happy Joy Joy Refereed by: Ye All Apoxian Country Flonking Band
Darmen 12–3 Democratic States of Fenbar Refereed by: Armagh Folk Players

No Nation                       Pld    W   D   L    GF   GA   GD   Pts 
1  Darmen                         2    2   0   0    20    4  +16     4
2  Democratic States of Fenbar    2    1   0   1    27   19   +8     2
3  Wight                          2    1   0   1    19   18   +1     2
4  Apox                           2    1   0   1    12   13   −1     2
5  Mashiki                        2    1   0   1    15   19   −4     2
6  Happy Happy Joy Joy            2    0   0   2    15   35  −20     0

Group 2
Mapletish 2–12 Commune-PDTv2 Refereed by: Ye All Apoxian Country Flonking Band
Slembana 10–8 Lymantatia Refereed by: Armagh Folk Players
Denras 24–7 Old Guard Refereed by: Polka Dot Folk Band

No Nation             Pld    W   D   L    GF   GA   GD   Pts 
1  Commune-PDTv2        2    2   0   0    32   10  +22     4
2  Denras               2    1   0   1    32   27   +5     2
3  Mapletish            2    1   0   1    14   17   −3     2
4  Slembana             2    1   0   1    15   20   −5     2
5  Old Guard            2    1   0   1    31   39   −8     2
6  Lymantatia           2    0   0   2    23   34  −11     0

Group 3
Vaugania 3–10 Farfadillis Refereed by: Armagh Folk Players
Soviet Canuckistan 48–7 Kinitaria Refereed by: Polka Dot Folk Band
Neu Engollian 7–49 The Serbian Empire Refereed by: Ye All Apoxian Country Flonking Band

No Nation              Pld    W   D   L    GF   GA   GD   Pts 
1  The Serbian Empire    2    2   0   0    59   10  +49     4
2  Soviet Canuckistan    2    1   0   1    54   15  +39     2
3  Farfadillis           2    1   0   1    14   10   +4     2
4  Vaugania              2    1   0   1    11   16   −5     2
5  Neu Engollian         2    1   0   1    14   53  −39     2
6  Kinitaria             2    0   0   2    10   58  −48     0

[Commune-PDTv2]

It seemed the clones possessed more of Friedrich Hjken's DNA than first predicted. As having seen the effect alcohol had on Aegir, they all wanted a drink after their victory over Mapletish.

The match itself had been plain sailing. After Mapletish finished their flonking with a score of 2 (there had been a great many swadges), many of their team were barely capable of standing when it came to the Commune's turn. After Mbaba Mwana Waresa and Bacchus had scored 6 points a piece on the first two rounds (Aegir was tending to his broken nose back at Zenith Castle), the clones began missing on purpose so as to get a taste of this forbidden liquid. Alpha had stormed off long before the end of the match and Friedrich, being the only player capable of handling his ale adopted the role of team captain. They were his clones afterall.

Silenus stared bleary eyed at the Apoxian local he had challenged to a drinking contest. The problem was that Silenus was already utterly hammered and they hadn't even started yet. Ninkasi had felt the need to take all his clothes off and go for a run in the woods and Mok Chi was adamant he could see into the future, despite his answer to any question put to him was 'I don't know'. The local crowd were beginning to warm to the Communadi, mainly because they were hilarious drunks. At the end of the match, Dionysus had borrowed a concertina from Ye All Apoxian Country Flonking Band and clambered upon a table to sing a 'song of his homeland'. It went a little something like this ...

*dischordant sustained noise*
"Ohhhhh ... Commuuuuuune"
*different dischordant sustained noise*
"Peee Deee Teeeeeeeee ... vee toooo"
*third dischordant sustained noise*
"Commuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuune ..."
*three seperate dischordant noises in quick succession*
"Peeeeeeeeeeeeedeeeeeeeeeteeeeeeeee ... "
*short blast of dischordant noise*
" ... vee toooooo ... "
-repeat ad infinitum-

It was somewhere around the fifth verse that he fell off the table.

The interesting fact was, that although they got exceedingly drunk very quickly they just didn't seem to stop. A fact that was causing the Apoxian local some discomfort. Silenus was completely drunk, of that there was no question, but 17 pints later he was still babbling on whilst the Apoxian was gently swaying, rubbing his temples and wishing the world would just end. Presently, he keeled over.

"Woooo ... Con ... Com youn winsh ... "

At which point, he finished the Apoxian's drink for him and decided a dance was in order.

and Communadi dancing really was something else.

Imagine if you will, the various motions your body would instinctly make if your head was on fire. What you are currently picturing is exactly how the Communadi dance, only with less flames and possibly more pelvic motion.

Friedrich sat back with a refreshing drink, watching the clones go crazy. He raised his glass to himself.

"Here's to Dwile Flonking"

At which point he downed the rest of his drink, and joined in with the dancing.

[Neu Engollon]

The Flonkers of the Goats squad had triumphed at first, against the mighty drinkers of Farfadillis. They had slept with smiles on their faces, and curled around buckets in which they filled several times, having to empty at various times in the night. Yet they were happy.

During the next round, they faced the Serbians. It was a hard fought battle, with Hoppy Jensen yelling at them incessantly, competing with the eardrum murdering folk band. He alternated between English and Frandit, mostly swearing and insulting in both:

"Keep going, you fudgy-pantsed wonders!! SWING!"

"Ya gotta catch de cloth wit' yer face, ya wanker!"

"You Merd-Schiessers!! What whores gave birth do ya? Ya call yerselves drinkers? I didn' bring the baby nipples!!"

At the end, it took a very long time for the bloodshot, glazed-eyed Goats to realize that they had even lost. They stood, still holding hands and waiting for the next ale soaked rag to hit them. They also continued to sway, even though the music had long since stopped.

Were it not for Hoppy Jensen working down the line, kicking them in the ass, they would have stayed standing there with stoned looks on their faces as ale dripped from their chins, noses and ears.

"How dare you lose. This is drinkin', lads! DRINKIN' ALE!! This is what we do best! The sport we never knew we were trainin' fer our whole flippin' lives since we were wearin' de short pants! IDJITS! BASTERDS!"

Hoppy was inconsolable.

[Apox]

CUT-OFF

Group 1
Mashiki 12–2 Darmen Refereed by: Armagh Folk Players
Wight 14–13 Democratic States of Fenbar Refereed by: Polka Dot Folk Band
Apox 1–3 Happy Happy Joy Joy Refereed by: Ye All Apoxian Country Flonking Band

No Nation                       Pld    W   D   L    GF   GA   GD   Pts 
1  Mashiki                        3    2   0   1    27   21   +6     4
2  Darmen                         3    2   0   1    22   16   +6     4
3  Wight                          3    2   0   1    33   31   +2     4
4  Democratic States of Fenbar    3    1   0   2    40   33   +7     2
5  Apox                           3    1   0   2    13   16   −3     2
6  Happy Happy Joy Joy            3    1   0   2    18   36  −18     2

Group 2
Mapletish 3–8 Denras Refereed by: Polka Dot Folk Band
Slembana 21–13 Old Guard Refereed by: Ye All Apoxian Country Flonking Band
Commune-PDTv2 3–12 Lymantatia Refereed by: Armagh Folk Players

No Nation             Pld    W   D   L    GF   GA   GD   Pts 
1  Commune-PDTv2        3    2   0   1    35   22  +13     4
2  Denras               3    2   0   1    40   30  +10     4
3  Slembana             3    2   0   1    36   33   +3     4
4  Lymantatia           3    1   0   2    35   37   −2     2
5  Mapletish            3    1   0   2    17   25   −8     2
6  Old Guard            3    1   0   2    44   60  −16     2

Group 3
Vaugania 3–13 Neu Engollian Refereed by: Ye All Apoxian Country Flonking Band
Soviet Canuckistan 5–14 The Serbian Empire Refereed by: Armagh Folk Players
Farfadillis 13–14 Kinitaria Refereed by: Polka Dot Folk Band

No Nation              Pld    W   D   L    GF   GA   GD   Pts 
1  The Serbian Empire    3    3   0   0    73   15  +58     6
2  Neu Engollian         3    2   0   1    27   56  −29     4
3  Soviet Canuckistan    3    1   0   2    59   29  +30     2
4  Farfadillis           3    1   0   2    27   24   +3     2
5  Vaugania              3    1   0   2    14   29  −15     2
6  Kinitaria             3    1   0   2    24   71  −47     2

[Commune-PDTv2]

Alpha didn't even bother leaving Zenith Castle for the match against Lymantatia, He was considoring returning to the Commune taking all the clones passports with him. Leave them all here to rot for all he cared.

The clones were not in a great shape either, all of them experiencing the first hangovers of their short lives. Ninkasi never returned from his naked jaunt and Silenus appeared to be in a coma.

As the remaining players slowly dragged their feet to the flonking fields, the warm aroma of beer was too much to take as one by one, they all began throwing up. Friedrich felt fine, although the sight of 16 men vomitting simultaneously did make him feel a little squiffy.

The match was a total disaster. The Commune started off the flonking but could barely stay on their feet. Friedrich noticed something pulling at his trousers. Tezcatzontecatl was curled in a ball at his feet crying.

"I want to go home. Make the pain stop."
"Drink some more, hair of the dog."
"Nooooooooo ...."

He buried his head between Friedrich's shins and sobbed loudly.

Mbaba Mwana Waresa had just swadged and then promptly spewed up all over the official whilst been presented the potty. Friedrich put his palm to his forehead.

"For fucks sake ... "

When Lymantatia's turn to flonk came, things were no better. The Commune team remained practically stationary as Friedrich fought to drag the floor-ridden Tezcatzontecatl by his arm. He was still bawling loudly. Friedrich had hoped to substitute him off but all the reserve players had disappeared, presumably to be sick somewhere or maybe just to avoid the chance of being hit with a beer-soaked dwile.

The match finished 12-3 to Lymantatia and Friedrich sat down on a bench a little away from the festivities to try and clean his trousers, the right leg was damp with a combination of Tezcatzontecatl's tears and snot, the left had flecks of sick which could have come from any one, or maybe all of Communadi players.

He sighed and noticed a Lymantatian newsreader preparing to do a broadcast on his teams victory. The cameraman was poised and a third man, presumably the director gave him his cue, counting down from three to one with his fingers.

"Today we played Commune-PDTv2 at Dwile Flonking, We won"
"Cut! That's a rap, people."

And off they went. 'What a peculiar nation' Friedrich Hjken thought to himself.

[Neu Engollon]

They were like zombies. They had tolerances of steel, being Neu Engollonian, but a human could only take so much. They were not the only team in such shape, which gave them hope. Many wandered the field, heading to their match circles in a hazy state. Darmeni, Apoxian, Mashiki, Fenbarric - they all stumbled on, the brave troopers, herded by their coaches. The Commune clones were sprawled around and crying in a very inhumane way. It was as if they'd never been subjected to the tortured after effects of alcohol.

The coaches, Hoppy Jensen and Tobias Goerdun pushed them on towards their destiny with the Vauganians. Tobias with gentle nudges and pats on the back.
Hoppy with cajoling, slapping and more insults, as only the Master Brewer could do so well.

"Okay, ya big slimy, pink orangutans. We need this win. Ya all let me down before, ya Merd-gobblers, But ...not... this... time. We won't let it happen, will we? ORLANDO! GIANNARO!! JACQUES!"

"nah, ggzza..."
"nopah..."
"Flupa?"

"Flupa. Um, Right." Jensen continued on despite the nonsensical responses that should tell him he was prodding the beast, "FLUPA! That's the spirit. Keep fluppin'...Seriously, though, if ya all lose I will hate you. I will disown ya and abandon yer smelly, dopey asses in de woods to stumble yer way home, all de way back ter Neu Engollon. Schiessers! KEEP MOVING! Merd! We haven't even reached the right field yet...Idjits."

They reached the waiting field with amused onlookers and the band, Ye All Apoxian Country Flonking Band, were setting up on stools and chairs.

"Crap. More flugel hornin'" Hoppy muttered.

They were set up and the Vauganians sent in their first flonker. They did their stumbling, swaying, swinging dance, moving the circle around and taking a couple hits from the dwile. They managed to somehow miss many of them, though. The dance became more shuffling with each match, but more practiced to where they could keep their feet and the rhythm, despite the non-stop onslaught of the piss ale soaked rag. When it was their turn to send in the flonkers, they relied on their heavy hitters. All the flonkers were well practiced, but both Mario Garaldo and Rudi Fenzheim seemed to get just that right rubbery smoothness. When they flicked the pole, they flung it true, every time. The team had also learned to aim for some of the more gawky of the Vauganians, like Conan Cody and RIley Ferguson, who had quite a bit of girth and some prime spots to ring a dwile around. Steffen Ziemaken was their best sprinter and slapper. He smacked Vauganian ass with glee, making the foul soggy dwile sting with every slap, before the Vauganian pints could be fully pounded down. Several rounds went by, but when all the squishing and splashing was done, the Goats stood the victors, overwhelmingly so.

Happy dripping faces showed as Hoppy jumped around hooting. He was the only one drinking out of choice at this point on the team.

"FLUPA!"

"gzzzzuuhhhh...flupa."