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 4, 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.
Timothy Scholle #290051
Venom Vortex
Launcho Libre @ Art Dye
Wielding the power of Venom Vortex (#3), Timothy demonstrated exceptional skill by playing -9 points above their rating in this epic clash.
Turnbuckle Tee-off
The Launcho Libre disc golf league has erupted into a fierce battle between the honorable Técnicos Voladores and the ruthless Rudos Sucios. As El Ángel Volador rallies his allies to defend the spirit of the game, El Diablo Sucio's vicious tactics have left battered discs and broken spirits in their wake. With the arrival of Clinton Atwater and his menacing Sucio Slammer, the very soul of the league hangs in the balance. As an ancient disc golf legacy begins to awaken, El Ángel Volador must find the strength to soar above the chaos and lead his Técnicos to glory, or risk seeing the Rudos' cruelty crush the league's dreams forever.
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
The sun hung low over Dragonfly Disc Golf Course, its fading light 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 a black and green mask, Venom Vortex strode forward, his eyes gleaming with malice. The Rudos' enforcer had been instrumental in their victory, his chaotic "Vortex Throw" sowing fear and confusion among the Técnicos.
"The Técnicos thought they could fly," Venom hissed, his voice dripping with contempt. "I showed them the true meaning of chaos."
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, Winged Whirlwind placed a hand on El Ángel's shoulder. "We stand with you, captain," he said, his eyes blazing with determination. "The Rudos may have won the day, but they will never extinguish the spirit of the Técnicos."
El Ángel nodded, drawing strength from his teammate's resolve. They would fight on, no matter the cost.
Days later, Venom Vortex stalked the fairways of Dragonfly, his eyes scanning for prey. The Rudos' enforcer had been tasked with maintaining the climate of fear, and he relished the role.
As he watched a young Técnico line up a shot, Venom sprang into action. His disc, a blurred streak of black and green, screamed across the fairway, slamming into the Técnico's disc with a sickening crack. The Técnico's disc careened off course, splashing into a nearby pond.
"Oops," Venom sneered, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Looks like the wind caught it."
But as he retrieved his disc, Venom felt a strange twinge in his gut. The look of devastation on the young Técnico's face, the way his shoulders slumped in defeat - it stirred something in Venom, a long-forgotten memory of a time before the venom, before the chaos.
Shaking off the feeling, Venom returned to his mission. The Rudos had a league to conquer, and he would not rest until every Técnico had been ground into the dirt.
Meanwhile, El Diablo Sucio plotted his next move. With each victory, his grip on the league grew tighter. Soon, very soon, Launcho Libre would be his to shape in his own twisted image.
El Ángel Volador, watching from afar, knew that the true battle was only beginning. The soul of disc golf hung in the balance, and he would fight to his last breath to protect it.
In the gathering shadows, a new figure emerged. Clad in a shimmering gold mask, El Dorado stepped onto the course, a gleaming disc held aloft.
"The old ways have failed," he declared, his voice ringing with power. "It is time for a new order to rise."
As all eyes turned to this mysterious newcomer, the future of Launcho Libre suddenly seemed more uncertain than ever. The game, as they say, was on.
Flippy's Hot Take