Victorious Faction
Rudos Sucios
The Rudos Sucios are a villainous stable of luchador disc golfers who dominate the course through vicious throws and underhanded tactics. They revel in breaking the rules and humiliating their opponents. The Rudos mock concepts like honor and sportsmanship, believing that winning is all that matters.
Faction Leader
El Diablo Sucio
A former underground fighter, El Diablo Sucio brings his no-holds-barred viciousness to the disc golf course, leading the Rudos Sucios in their quest to crush the competition.
Members
14Divisions
This faction emerged victorious in Week 6, advancing their narrative in the ongoing conflict.
Victory points are calculated based on player performance relative to rating, special achievements like aces and CTPs, and community contributions. Pool multipliers are applied based on division ratings and demographics to ensure balanced competition.
Andrew Malone #302519
Vengeance Viper
Launcho Libre @ Art Dye
Wielding the power of Vengeance Viper (#1), Andrew demonstrated exceptional skill by playing +0 points above their rating in this epic clash.
Clothesline Chains
El Ángel Volador and his Técnicos Voladores have fought valiantly to defend the spirit of the Launcho Libre disc golf league, even as El Diablo Sucio's vicious Rudos Sucios unleash chaos, leaving battered discs and broken spirits in their wake. The arrival of the mysterious Wind Whisperer has reignited hope, their graceful throws a shining light amidst the darkness. Yet, as ancient disc golf powers begin to awaken and whispers of El Dorado's return echo through the fairways, El Ángel Volador faces his greatest challenge yet. Will he find the strength to soar above the mayhem and lead the Técnicos to glory, or will the shadows of ruthless ambition consume the very soul of the league?
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
The sun hung low over Art Dye Disc Golf Course, casting long shadows across the fairways. But the darkness that gripped the Launcho Libre league was no mere trick of the evening. It was a malevolent presence, a cancer that threatened to devour the very soul of the sport. And its name was El Diablo Sucio.
Fresh off his brutal victory over the Técnicos Voladores, El Diablo stood atop the winner's podium, his blood-red mask glistening in the twilight. His Rudos Sucios circled him like hungry wolves, their snarls of triumph echoing across the silent course.
"Behold the future of Launcho Libre!" El Diablo roared, hoisting his disc aloft. "Where the weak are culled and only the strong survive!"
From the shadows, El Ángel Volador watched, his heart heavy with despair. The Técnicos had fought valiantly, but El Diablo's viciousness knew no bounds. El Ángel's thoughts drifted to Soaring Scorpion, the promising young Técnico now lying broken in a hospital bed, his dreams shattered by a Rudo's "errant" drive.
As the Rudos' celebration reached a fever pitch, a lone figure stepped onto the course. Clad in venomous greens and blacks, Vengeance Viper strode forward, his eyes gleaming with malice. The Rudos' master of psychological warfare had been instrumental in their victory, his unsettling tactics leaving the Técnicos rattled and uncertain.
"The Técnicos thought they could soar," Viper hissed, his voice dripping with contempt. "I showed them the true meaning of fear."
El Diablo's laughter was like the scrape of metal on bone. "Well done, my venomous friend. The Técnicos will think twice before challenging us again."
Across the course, El Ángel gathered his battered team. "Take heart, my friends," he said, his voice heavy with emotion. "Today was a setback, but we cannot lose sight of what we fight for. Honor, integrity, the joy of the game - these are the things that truly matter."
But even as he spoke, El Ángel could feel the weight of doubt bearing down on him. How could they stand against such ruthless opposition? What if the Rudos' way was the only path to victory?
As if sensing his thoughts, Vengeance Viper slithered to his side. "You know, Ángel," he whispered, his forked tongue flicking the air. "There's a place for you in our world. Imagine what you could achieve if you just...let go."
El Ángel recoiled, but the seed of temptation had been planted. As he watched his team limp away, he couldn't shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, Viper was right.
Days later, El Ángel found himself alone on the course, his mind clouded with uncertainty. As he lined up a putt, a sudden hiss shattered his concentration. Vengeance Viper emerged from the brush, his disc held like a coiled snake ready to strike.
"Still trying to fly, Ángel?" Viper taunted. "Let me show you how the serpent strikes."
With a flick of his wrist, Viper sent his disc hurtling towards the basket. It curved through the air, defying physics, before slamming into the chains with a resounding clang. El Ángel could only watch in stunned silence.
"You see?" Viper said, his voice a sibilant whisper. "Power, precision, dominance. That's the Rudo way."
El Ángel felt something stir within him, a dark desire he had long suppressed. Maybe Viper was right. Maybe it was time to shed his wings and embrace the serpent's strike.
But as he reached for his disc, a memory flashed through his mind - Soaring Scorpion, broken but unbowed, vowing to rise again. In that moment, El Ángel knew what he had to do.
"No," he said, his voice ringing with renewed conviction. "I am El Ángel Volador, the soaring storyteller. And I will not be grounded by fear."
With a mighty heave, El Ángel sent his disc soaring across the course. It rode the wind, climbing higher and higher, until it dropped gently into the basket. A perfect shot, born not of anger or intimidation, but of grace and determination.
Vengeance Viper could only watch, his jaw slack with disbelief. "Impossible," he hissed. "How?"
El Ángel smiled, a beatific grin that seemed to light up the darkening course. "Through honor," he said simply. "Through the unbreakable spirit of the Técnicos Voladores."
With that, he strode off the course, his head held high. The battle was far from over, but for the first time in weeks, El Ángel felt a flicker of hope. The Rudos may have won the day, but the Técnicos would rise again. And when they did, the whole world would witness the true power of the disc golf's noble heart.
Flippy's Hot Take