Potty of Ale Cup (EVERYTHING THREAD)

[The Serbian Empire]

Glug! Glug! Urrppp! Milos sluggishly went towards the toilet having a hangover like no other. Three days of heavy drinking isn't good for even the heaviest drinking of people and the Serbian Empire has no shortage of heavy drinking people. "I'll take the day off and let Ales compete for the entire match," Milos said before vomiting again in the hotel bathroom's toilet.

[Apox]

CUT-OFF

Sorry for this being a day late, I must admit, I completely forgot about it yesterday.

Group 1
Mashiki 8–15 Happy Happy Joy Joy
Wight 9–43 Darmen
Apox 9–20 Democratic States of Fenbar

No Nation                       Pld    W   D   L    GF   GA   GD   Pts 
1  Darmen                         4    3   0   1    65   25  +40     6
2  Democratic States of Fenbar    4    2   0   2    60   42  +18     4
3  Mashiki                        4    2   0   2    35   36   −1     4
4  Happy Happy Joy Joy            4    2   0   2    33   44  −11     4
5  Wight                          4    2   0   2    42   74  −32     4
6  Apox                           4    1   0   3    22   36  −14     2

Group 2
Mapletish 11–9 Lymantatia
Slembana 4–5 Denras
Commune-PDTv2 4–9 Old Guard

No Nation             Pld    W   D   L    GF   GA   GD   Pts 
1  Denras               4    3   0   1    45   34  +11     6
2  Commune-PDTv2        4    2   0   2    39   31   +8     4
3  Slembana             4    2   0   2    40   38   +2     4
4  Mapletish            4    2   0   2    28   34   −6     4
5  Old Guard            4    2   0   2    53   64  −11     4
6  Lymantatia           4    1   0   3    44   48   −4     2

Group 3
Vaugania 5–11 Kinitaria
Soviet Canuckistan 3–24 Neu Engollian
Farfadillis 3–14 The Serbian Empire

No Nation              Pld    W   D   L    GF   GA   GD   Pts 
1  The Serbian Empire    4    4   0   0    87   18  +69     8
2  Neu Engollian         4    3   0   1    51   59   −8     6
3  Kinitaria             4    2   0   2    35   76  −41     4
4  Soviet Canuckistan    4    1   0   3    62   53   +9     2
5  Farfadillis           4    1   0   3    30   38   −8     2
6  Vaugania              4    1   0   3    19   40  −21     2

Nations in green have qualified for the next round

[Commune-PDTv2]

"You're asking me to do what?!"

Alpha's reaction to Friedrich broaching the subject of him Dwile Flonking was not as severe as he had expected. The ink was still drying on the hastily written Last Will and Testament he had prepared minutes before.

The fact was, that the players still capable of Dwile Flonking were, after experiencing their first hangovers, now refusing to, or incapable of competing. Friedrich had managed to convince a few but they were missing one player.

"Look, Alpha, if you're so determined to win this thing for the Glory of the Commune, we need you to compete."
"You expect me to join you cretins in your silly little drinking game?"
"We need you ... "
"Mr. Hjken, although I am very happy that you're willing to aid the Commune in our quest for sporting dominance, the short answer is 'no'."
"And the long answer?"
"Is 'fuck off'."
"So we forfeit?"

Alpha grimaced. He could explain away to the Holy Father merely failure to qualify, forfeiting, and upon his orders, would not be tolerated.

"Show me the team list."

Friedrich handed him the sheet with his annotations.

1.  dfm1.01gub~#IN-hjken;03gubbers~AND:{Aegir} - Fractured cheekbone/Broken nose/3 Broken ribs.
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} - Comatose.
5.  dfm1.01gub~#IN-hjken;1Fgubbers~AND:{Raugupatis} - Dead/alcohol poisioning.
6.  dfm1.01gub~#IN-hjken;12gubbers~AND:{Dionysus}
7.  dfm1.01gub~#IN-hjken;15gubbers~AND:{Ninkasi} - Missing.
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} - Insane.
12. dfm1.01gub~#IN-hjken;1Agubbers~AND:{Yasigi} - Missing.
13. dfm1.01gub~#IN-hjken;1Egubbers~AND:{Radegast}
14. dfm1.01gub~#IN-hjken;30gubbers~AND:{Maximon} - Missing.
15. dfm1.01gub~#IN-hjken;31gubbers~AND:{Mok Chi} - Vegetative state.
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} - Dead/alcohol poisioning.
20. dfm1.01gub~#IN-hjken;29gubbers~AND:{Sabazios}

"It's simple, make Tezcatzontecatl play."
"Err ... we can't."
"Why not. If he's capable of drinking, he can play."
"He's been crying constantly for the last 18 hours and has sewn his own mouth shut ... "
"Unstitch it."
" ... and then sealed it with a hot iron."

Friedrich never thought he'd ever see Alpha look repulsed.

"I see ... "
"We need you to play Alpha."
"Mok Chi."
"What?!"
"Mok Chi will play."
"He's in a vegetative state. He's completely incapable of movement. He's completely incapable of anything!"
"You'll manage. Now go, or you'll miss your fixture against Old Guard and remember Mr. Hjken, the Commune does not tolerate failure."

---

Naturally, the match against Old Guard was a complete disaster. The remaining clones were sluggish and had no spirit and dragging a sensless Mok Chi around hampered them further. They lost by 9 points to 4 and Friedrich now somehow had to rally them for their final match against Slembana. A loss and they were out. It was not going to be easy.

[Apox]

CUT-OFF

Group 1
Mashiki 13–12 Democratic States of Fenbar
Wight 12–4 Apox
Darmen 34–9 Happy Happy Joy Joy

No Nation                       Pld    W   D   L    GF   GA   GD   Pts 
1  Darmen                         5    4   0   1    99   34  +65     8
2  Mashiki                        5    3   0   2    48   48    0     6
3  Wight                          5    3   0   2    54   78  −24     6
4  Democratic States of Fenbar    5    2   0   3    72   55  +17     4
5  Happy Happy Joy Joy            5    2   0   3    42   78  −36     4
6  Apox                           5    1   0   4    26   48  −22     2

Group 2
Mapletish 12–2 Old Guard
Slembana 3–10 Commune-PDTv2
Denras 7–6 Lymantatia

No Nation             Pld    W   D   L    GF   GA   GD   Pts 
1  Denras               5    4   0   1    52   40  +12     8
2  Commune-PDTv2        5    3   0   2    49   34  +15     6
3  Mapletish            5    3   0   2    40   36   +4     6
4  Slembana             5    2   0   3    43   48   −5     4
5  Old Guard            5    2   0   3    55   76  −21     4
6  Lymantatia           5    1   0   4    50   55   −5     2

Group 3
Vaugania 17–13 The Serbian Empire
Soviet Canuckistan 3–5 Farfadillis
Neu Engollian 18–15 Kinitaria

No Nation              Pld    W   D   L    GF   GA   GD   Pts 
1  The Serbian Empire    5    4   0   1   100   35  +65     8
2  Neu Engollian         5    4   0   1    69   74   −5     8
3  Farfadillis           5    2   0   3    35   41   −6     4
4  Vaugania              5    2   0   3    36   53  −17     4
5  Kinitaria             5    2   0   3    50   94  −44     4
6  Soviet Canuckistan    5    1   0   4    65   58   +7     2

Nations in green proceed to the next round.

The Quarter-Finals were randomly drawn on [url]random.org[/url] with the first placed teams and the highest second place team being drawn against the other second placed teams and the third placed teams.

Quarter-Finals
Denras vs Mapletish
The Serbian Empire vs Wight
Darmen vs Commune-PDTv2
Neu Engollian vs Mashiki

[Neu Engollon]

Once again, the crew had been herded out into the fields. As the band had played, they'd swayed and dipped, danced and swigged their way past the Soviet Canuckistanis. With precision again, Mario Garaldo and Rudi Fenzheim continued to fling the dwile true. They ran the circle and racked up the points, somehow, drinking about what they would in an average night anyway, only much quicker.

Hoppy Jensen roared,

"That's de way yer bums! Keep flonkin' ya super putzes! Ya can cry in yer beers later!"

Once again, the mighty Goats stood triumphant.
They celebrated with a little more ale and dancing.

The next day, Hoppy and Tobias herded the ever grinning, stumbling soggy Goats back onto the field, minus Lucky Pitacci, Horst Berbach and Danny Nemaus, all down and out for the count this match. Tobias would be running back to make more attempts at waking them, letting Jensen continue to cajole the team on the field. Tobias Goerdun had been taking more and more of a backseat role, letting Jensen take on more of the main coaching and be the main focal point of the team.

Jensen prodded them ever onward against the Kinitarians.

"Merd! Ya got this, ya dirty pink apes!"
"Keep it movin' ya sorry excuses for ale barrels!"
"What? Ya can't git de pint down yer gullet? That's not wot I heard 'bout last night, Steffen!"

The Goats were driven to laughter, to tears, but mostly to thoughts of murdering Hoppy Jensen.

It was not as tidy a victory as the one versus the Soviet Canuckistani team had been. They were struggling and the Kinitarians were managing some good flonking, while theirs was quite sloppy, but still managing to hit the mark enough. It came down to some running and dwile slapping and a final three pints all down the pipe of Ernst Giffenhas. As he washed down the last swish to roars, he promptly pancaked onto the ground, smashing his nose and going into a coma.

They came out 3 points ahead, looking at the quarterfinals against the mighty Baltanan Mashiks, under the sturdy leadership of Ravanov Yanchoski. They dragged their fallen off the field and prepared to recover enough for tomorrow.

[The Serbian Empire]

Finally, the Serbian Empire's heavy drinking group of dwile flonkers had lost a game due to their heavy drinking. The hangovers had begun and the bathrooms in the hotel were crowded with Serbian drinkers near the toilets.

"I can't even remember how many points we scored or how many times I got hit with the dwile for that matter," Ales said before taking another trip to the bathroom toilet to vomit.

At least we are in the quarter finals is the mentality of this team as they have consumed enough alcohol to make a sumo wrestler pass out. Oddly, the team has scored the most points in the entire group play stage and is considered favored to win. Fortunately, all the Serbian drinkers seem to be suffering from is severe hangovers and giving a few players the time to sober up seems to make the team competitive.

"That was why we lost yesterday as a few of us decided to take the day off to sober up," said Milos as he is remarkably quite sober today in comparison to the backups who were sent out yesterday.

[Apox]

CUT-OFF

One again, my sincere apologies for this being late, the scorination for the semi-finals will occur on the 6th of February.

Quarter-Finals
Denras 9–20 Mapletish
The Serbian Empire 3–10 Wight
Darmen 12–26 Commune-PDTv2
Neu Engollian 25–5 Mashiki

Therefore the semi-finals are thus:

Mapletish vs Wight
Commune-PDTv2 vs Neu Engollian

[Commune-PDTv2]

"Knee-Oooo Englollionion?"
"Yesh, them ... "
"Are they *hic* ... Are they any good?
"I fink sho. It ish the shemi-finalsh ... "
"Oh yeah ... "
"I fink my liver hurtsh ... "
"Mine *hic* ... Mine too ... "

Whether the clones were growing accustomed to alcohol or whether they merely feared Alpha passed through Friedrich's mind as he sat at the bar with the Communadi players stable enough to continue. Ninkasi, Maximon and Yasigi had returned meaning the team had enough players to continue in the tournament. All three returning just before Friedrich was about to declare forfeiture ahead of the quarter-final against Darmen. Ninkasi was a little sketchy on where he had been but was pretty sure he'd been convinced he was a rabbit and had spend several days trying to build a burrow in the woods. Maximon had never left the hotel. A 'scary shadow' had prompted him to seek refuge in his wardrobe, emerging only once he had furnished a rudimentary bow and arrow from a coathanger, the elasticated waistband of his underpants and a ball point pen. Yasigi was returned by customs officials after he tried to flee the country. Sadly, Alpha possessed his passport.

"Sho ... *hic*, if we eat a big *hic* ... a big meal, we won't shuccumb to alcul ... alf ... alcoko ... drink sho eashily?"
"Apparendenly sho ... "
"Ish that becush ... *hic* ... food ish the oppiz ... oppulzit of drink?"
"I finksho ... "
" .... Wo*hic* ... Wow! ... "
"Wazza oppizit ofsh alcohol?"
" ... errr ... maybe ish cheeshecake?"
" ... Wha? ... "
"Well, cake ish, like, shweet and bee*hic* ... beer ish bitter. And cheeshe ish made fro*hic* ... frum milk. And milk ish the, like, *hic* ... opposhit uv water. And beer ish made wiff water."
"Noooo ... Fahr ish opposhit uv water."
"Fi*hic* .. Fire?"
"Yesh."
"Sho ... burned cheeshecake?"

Friedrich smiled as he listened to the clones drunkenly discuss tactics. He was getting a bit sick of the taste of beer by now. Two more games max, he told himself as he pushed his, still half-full glass away from himself.

[Neu Engollon]

Tobias rounded everyone up the next morning. Both Horst and Lucky bounced back for the next round, but now Efisio and Gennaro were down and out, sleeping it off.
Ernst Giffenhas might not be coming back...ever. In fact, he had been rushed to the nearest Apoxian Med center still deep in his coma. Still, spirits overall were good, and this deep in, the team expected to take some casualties, more so than they had. They were finding their stride, albeit a stumbling, sideways one. Jensen met them on the field, smiling.

"OK, aborted wonders! Ya 'r gunna be givin' it yer all today, just like every day. Deez guys, the Mashiks, no joke, purty good and...Merd! Lando! I'm talkin' atcha. Open yer eyes, ya flippin' sloth! OK...so's whar waz I? Yeah...It'z jus' gunna git tuffer from here on owt, ya sniveling panzies! No mercy!"

They started in and whether Hoppy's coach chat had any positive or detrimental effect was negligible, as they mostly ignored him now. They found their rhythm once again and kept it up, avoiding dwiles and flonking true. They once again dominated the opponents, slammed when they had to, soggily slapped and shuffled along throughout. 25-5. They stood (swayed) with ultimate champion stances. Taking a victory drink and shouting out their new nonsense war cry "FLUPA!"

As they were stumbling and crawling back to their temporary castle home, Hoppy congratulated them. Toby smiled and patted them all on the back, helping some of them back to their feet. Hoppy just plowed on, stepping on hands and splayed legs, giving kicks when he thought they were needed.

"I knew ya uber-dinguses could do it! Nice job, Ya Schiessers! Tomorrow is da Communadi. I don't think I got ter tell ya dat they're weeeeeird. Rilly strange, lads. Nuttin' like wot we bin up aginst so far. Rumor is der clones. They sure look awful reee-diculous, too many brudders in a nach-rool sense, ya know what i mean...so's, yeah? Anyway, just keep up yer panty-waste chooglin' and chuggin' and we'll git ourselves to the finals. And...don't look them looneys in de eyes tomorrow, dey might brain warp yas!"

The team was back and slunk into their rooms. Hoppy had been talking to himself for the last couple minutes.

"Frakkin' Schiessers!"

[Apox]

CUT-OFF

I can only offer my sincere apologies for how the schedule of this has gone to pot, life has been very busy to me at the moment. The scorination for the final will take place on Saturday at 10pm UTC

Semi-Finals
Mapletish 10–40 Wight
Commune-PDTv2 7–11 Neu Engollian

Therefore the final will be contested by Wight vs Neu Engollian

With the 3rd Placed Play-Off being between Mapletish vs Commune-PDTv2

[Commune-PDTv2]

In an uncharacteristic move, Alpha graced the Dwile Flonking semi-final with his presence. He had come to the conclusion that a semi-final, was a semi-final, regardless what he thought of the actual 'sport'. The team were kitted out in a uniform of his design, basically the dress code he had adopted for as long as he could remember. Grey with white pin-stripe three-piece suit, dark teal shirt, black tie and smart black shoes. Now, any modern gentleman of the NSMultiverse knows that black shoes seldom work with grey, nevermind the fact that rather than a sports team, the Communadi looked like a group of executives who had fallen upon hard times and taken to drinking their problems to obscurity. Alpha, however, wasn't here to be a fashion role model. He aimed to display stoic unity and quiet dignity.

"Alpha, these trousers are crushing my testicles!"

Obviously, the sleek, slim-fitting style Alpha had chosen did not sit well with his team. They were clones of Friedrich Hjken, and Friedrich's physique was rather rotund. Radegast was wadlling uncomfortably whilst trying to readjust the crotch of his trousers and the buttons of Bacchus' waistcoat strained atop his sizable belly. Friedrich, luckily, had his own suit. Black and loose fitting which he had chosen to wear instead. The different attire of Friedrich meant that it was to he that Hoppy Jensen thrust a large, meaty hand and spouted various strange colloquiallisms which he assumed were wishes of good luck. The fact he kept avoiding eye-contact was slightly off-putting though. Also, the fact that the entire Neu Engollon team and staff were wearing tin-foil hats. After Hoppy made a swift retreat to the safety of his own team, Friedrich turned to Alpha.

"Do you know why they're wearing tin-foil hats?"
"They believe the Communadi possess powers of mind-manipulation and hope that their headwear will provide a rudimentary barrier."
"How do you know that?"
"I read his mind."
"Oh ... "
"No Mr. Hjken, they are unaware their hats don't work. Yes, Mr. Hjken, I do possess some abilities in the reading of the thoughts of others and Yes, I have seen the disgusting, sexual pantomine you call a 'fantasy' involving you and those two Apoxian barmaids. One of which, for the record, finds you repulsive but smiles and bares her cleavage in the hope of receiving decent tips."
" ... "
"Yes, you should probably start playing."

Friedrich, who was now a deep shade of crimson, gathered the team and took to the field.

It was a bizarre spectacle. The Communadi in their ill-fitting suits and Neu Engollon in their metallic caps. Both teams exerted an aura of desiring victory with a hint of weariness towards the drinking this entailed. The Commune were to flonk first and Mbaba Mwana Waresa gripped the driveller tightly in his hands, retching slightly at the aroma of the warm beer slops. With a sharp whistle, the band struck up a jaunty jig and like the workings of some great, shambolic machine, the players slowly built momentum.

The spirit of the Communadi was tired, strained and warped. Their accuracy, weak and flonkers came and went adding meagre totals to the team score. A few wantons, the odd ripper, but nothing insurmountable. Osiris swadged. He looked forlornly at the glass in his hand, upon the whistle, holding his nose and slinging the contents down his throat. He blinked slowly and turned towards Alpha. For a split second, his gaze met Alpha's before his eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed. Friedrich rushed in to try and revive him.

"He's dead."

Alpha's cold commentary was unneeded.

"Do something you useless bastard!"

Hjken's gruff response took Alpha by surprise. He thought for a moment before casually strolling over. Placing a hand upon Osiris' chest, he closed his eyes and concentrated for a few seconds. Osiris' body twitched and he sat bolt upright. The Neu Engollians looked nervously at one another as Osiris focused uneasily before speaking.

"I just had the strangest dream that I was in a new country, in the sunlight, drinking alcohol and ... "
"Dream's over. Welcome back to reality."

And with that Alpha pulled Osiris from the field by his arm, ignoring the rapturous applause of the throngs of spectators.

Seven points were all the Commune could manage and the only player exhibiting any form of agility was Osiris, who was skipping about merrily. His near-death experience having had some profound effect, or maybe it was just the alcohol in his bloodstream. Maybe Alpha was trying to help by sneering intimidatingly at the Neu Engollians, maybe he was just trying to amuse himself. Needless to say, the chances didn't look good ...

[Apox]

Final Results

3rd Place Play-off
Mapletish 3–11 Commune-PDTv2

Final
Wight 7–31 Neu Engollian

Therefore congratulations to Neu Engollian for winning the Potty of Ale Cup! Commiserations to Wight who came second and congratulations to Commune-PDTv2 for coming 3rd! Thanks for everyone for taking part!

[Neu Engollon]

"So, um, Hoppy...I don't understand the tinfoil hats..." This from Al Sertachser, trying to get the contraption Hoppy made to stay seated on his head without being so uncomfortable.

"Yeah, Coach Jensen, how will these help us win the match with tha..." Freddy Richter chimed in.

"SHUT UP, YER STINKIN' DERPS!...Yeah, ya schiessers! Ya all wandered off to yer rooms when I tried ter explain last night. Them Communadi basterds, dey got brain warpin' powers. Like a ray gun at yer skull. Merd! Ya all don' listen do yer? ...Put yer caps on and LEAVE 'EM ON!"

They shuffled on down to the field, and got ready, as the band was setting up. One of the Communadi approached Hoppy and he had a moment of panic. Part of him knew that it was just a show of good sportsmanship, but he still couldn't help thinking it was some kind of trick. He steeled himself and made sure not to look the sorcerer in the eye.

He took the proferred hand and remembered to use the bottle of stringent he'd brought along afterwards. He was not going to let the Robot King get to him, by poisoning him through his skin.

"Ya, it's good ter see yer fellas. We look forward to a good match wit' yers. Merd! It's been a helluva week, eh? Well, good luck to yers and may the force be wit' ya, eh? Try not to looney warp us too much, eh?"

The Goats got on the field and started to dance, while one of the Communadi flonked, flinging dwiles with no special, inhuman skill. After a couple rounds, the Goats realized that they weren't up against an inhuman machine. They erred, they got exceedingly drunk and they stumbled and flubbed up, just like anyone else. The Goats had their rhythm down so good that they needed to communicate very little. It surely would seem to the outsider that they, out of anybody, were the robots. This time, Hoppy Jensen himself was in on the fun, trying his hardest to be sure that he could slug down the pints, even when it wasn't his turn to do so. The Stomach of Iron could have been useful in a couple of their other matches that were pretty near or even lost, such as the one to the mighty Serbians. He had been keeping himself in reserve, though, so he said.

Even so, the skipping and jabbering of the one Communadi that had looked to be dead just moments earlier, unnerved Jensen and the rest of the team. Not so much that they couldn't turn in a win. They flonked with perfection; Steffan and Orlando doing their best to slap the Communadi silly with the dwile. Once again, they stood victorious after much sloppy chuggin' and shuffling.

They once again trudged up to the castle with dopey grins and exhaustion flowing through their every joint and muscle. Tomorrow was Wight.
Hoppy in turns, berated them and congratulated them, but ultimately was ignored as had become the pattern.

They showed up on the field and got to dancing, as the folk band played. The slight exhaustion showed in the bands, as well. Wight was spent from getting to the finals, while the Goats snapped back into their mode, shuffling and flinging and slapping and chugging. They tried to make sense of the common physics and human panorama before them as stars and masses of alcohol induced colors flowed around them and pierced their brains. Hoppy shouted at them all though out,

"Come on, yer panty sniffers! Fudgy-faced farmboys! Yer were born to dis! Dis was yer callin' all along! Show the world ya all can drink 'em under! Ya can do it, ya basterds!!"

Somehow, miraculously, they managed to struggle through it, and come out on top. The Goats stood triumphant finally. Taking the Cup and all the glory. They would celebrate the night with more ale, unfathomable to the rest of the competitors. Then they would fly home and begin a massive detox program prepared for them by the Neu Engollon government. It was all worth it. Well, for most of them.

"Toby, can yer believe it? We did it!" Hoppy kissed the Cup. Toby Goerdun just nodded and smiled.