Relezite
Joined: May 21, 2007
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 Posted:
Jan 20, 2014 - 18:19 |
 
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Set sail, Philhala!
Fresh off their conquest of the NBFL, the Philhala Arni have once again disembarked for foreign shores. After a series of successful warm-up raids on the exotic and tasty lands of Mongoblia the battle-hungry Arni set their sights on the wide seas and the powerful opponents that lay over the horizon.
After several days, the Arni find themselves in familiar waters, the vast and rich seas of the NFC EAST. These are simple, peaceful folk. Sheep raising sheep that owe their lives to the mercy of their viking overlords. Yet even in these soft-skinned populations worthy foes can be found. Foes that value grace and martial prowess over brute strength. Foes that divine dance from sport, flow like the wind and strike like the gale at the cracks in the wall. In a word, sissies. In two words, frustrating sissies.
Forward scouts Chris "Pretty" Harrison and newcomer Sveinn Ypperson find themselves on a thin shore crowded by a dark, towering wood.
Sveinn: (looking at map) There's no third way of looking at this thing, Chris, there are supposed to be villages here. Where are the Ants?
Chris: What's that? You've got an old map, rookie. The Ants couldn't cut it in our corner of the world. As it's said, they fell pray to the darker forces lurking in their lands. Ants no more, so the criers say, here there be Giants...
Sveinn: (tosses map into the karve) Is this the talk of vampires on the lips of every housegirl and slave? It can't be, (gaze lingers on the unnatural gray creeping up the tree) it can't be true, can it?
Chris: Coach says it is. (scowls) Can't say I'm fond of the idea of Vampires so close to home after the last encounter I had with them. Battered, scattered and sent scrambling home to mend our pride. And here they are in my back yard.
Sveinn: Do we know anything about their players? Anything at all?
Chris: What we know, we hear only from the refugees that trickle into our northern ports. Though their stories differ wildly, the most common element is a mountainous vampire they call The Wall is clearly the leader. Steady and clam, nothing stops his advance and as far as anyone knows he has never lost his feet.
Sveinn: Thorarinn has taken down players twice his size, or so they say!
Chris: Don't you doubt that, I've seen that man do incredible feats. This is different though. This vampire is almost unassailable. If he gets the ball, I don't know how it's ever coming out without points attached.
Sveinn: It's good then that a team isn't just one player! (spits on the nearest tree, leaps back when spit instantly evaporates)
Chris: It's true, and fortunately vampires are rare. Many of the players on their teams are the poor country folk enthralled into joining the team and used mostly for fodder and snacks. The rumors, however, speak of The Wall's lieutenants, and in no brighter tones. His right-hand man is named Anguan Gobldin a vampire possessed of agility equal to my own and strength even greater. Vampires on their own are terrifying things, genius vampires are something from the world over.
Sveinn: (continues to ponder tree, his swagger gone)
Chris: Enough, I say. I won! I took the trophy from the greenskins and the wolfmen and everyone else in the way. I will do it again and I will do it better and I will crush every wall in our path to glory! (stomps defiantly back to the karve, Sveinn meekly in tow)
NFC EAST NEW YORK GIANTS:
DRAFT GRADE: A+
CURRENT TEAM STRENGTH: C
DIVISION RANKING: 3RD |
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Relezite
Joined: May 21, 2007
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Jan 20, 2014 - 19:45 |
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Meanwhile in the high hills of the east-most lands, Friggir Ulfrson and Jeramethrius Bluetooth stand in a wide, clear basin contemplating an odd pattern of rocks.
Jeramethrius Bluetooth: I still don't get why you think this is a 'warning.' It strikes me as nothing more than a child's abandoned play.
Friggir Ulfrson: You don't know how these Dendrophiliacs think, Blue. You come from a foreign land and didn't grow up with these elves. They don't come to scrim, you never see them in our towns, and they have none of their own. Nobody ever sees them, but every once in a long while they leave something behind. These things always have meaning, because otherwise they wouldn't BE here, you know?
Jeramethrius Bluetooth: So after losing to us twice last year they leave us a pile of rocks in the shape of a...squiggly dog? No. A winking clown? No wait...
Friggir Ulfrson: No. This is the symbol of "The Viburnum" I thought you would recognize it from that one time he stomped it into Solmundr's skull.
Jeramethrius Bluetooth: V-Victor? What does he want?
Friggir Ulfrson: It's hard to tell, Kveldulf's the guy for these elf messages. But did you notice this second symbol trailing off to the side of Victor's?
Jeramethrius Bluetooth: Well now I do, kind of. Looks like a bear doing a jig. Or wait! An angry baby! No, wait.
Friggir Ulfrson: It looks like he found a protege...
NFC EAST DALLAS DENDROPHILIACS:
DRAFT GRADE: B-
CURRENT TEAM STRENGTH: B
DIVISION RANKING: 4TH |
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Jeffro
Joined: Jan 22, 2009
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| Posted:
Jan 20, 2014 - 20:07 |
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Keen stuff, Rel... keep it coming!! Can't wait for the visit to the NFC South  |
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Relezite
Joined: May 21, 2007
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Jan 20, 2014 - 21:30 |
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The border town of Skigson's Axe is the bridge between the territories of the Arni and the Redheads. This town spans a great chasm over a thousand meters deep known as the Dive. Each side of the Axe is heavily manned by the armed forces of its respective nation, but surprisingly life in the town itself is normal, friendly even. In the Axe, it seems, the locals enjoy a lifestyle free from the sexual repression that keeps most of the continent in a perpetual war frenzy.
At the peak of the bridge sits a modest garden, a place of peace and beauty designed ages ago and upkept by masked patrons of both nations. It is the only place dialogue between leaders of the nations occurs, as it does now. Arni star player Thorarinn "The Justin Killer" Jarnskeggason walks side-by-side with star Redhead Chelsey Mann.
Thorarinn: Chelsey, we can't keep having these 'political forays,' somebody is bound to catch on soon. The Coach actually sent one of the freshman players along this time, to keep an eye on me. It was all I could do to send him hurtling into the Dive.
Chelsey: Oh Thorarinn, I know, I do. Believe me, it's not easy for me either. I won't bore you with the details, but I have to win several nude oil wrestling tournaments just to get permission to come.
Thorarinn: Go on...
Chelsey: No, Thorarinn, listen to me, ok? It's getting serious now, really serious. Ever since you guys won the Big Game Flashington has been in a frenzy! Training is going on night and day, sororities across the nation are being plumed for new recruits, each more talented and bloodthirsty than the last. They see that glorious golden shaft shining from your side of the Dive and all the know is lust and envy. They would do anything to get their hands on it! I'm telling you, there isn't a single pair of unbunched panties anywhere!
Thorarinn: Well I...
Chelsey: The newest girl, she just calls herself the Doctor, she...scares me. She blows all the other recruits out of the water, even gives most of the veterans a run for their money. She's not a big girl, not anymore than me, but she has an unnatural power that she brings to every practice. Just last week during our strip twister marathon training she managed to injure three other newbies on a single right hand red maneuver!
Thorarinn: What kind of marathon?
Chelsey: Please Thoraninn, promise me you'll be careful this year. If she gets her hands on you in the next game, I can't promise you it will be anywhere near as sexy as when I do it.
Thorarinn: ...
Thorarinn: Sorry, I wasn't listening. You were saying something about oil twister?
NFC EAST FLASHINGTON REDHEADS:
DRAFT GRADE: A
CURRENT TEAM STRENGTH: A
DIVISION RANKING: 2ND |
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Relezite
Joined: May 21, 2007
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| Posted:
Jan 23, 2014 - 13:53 |
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Uninspired do to poor sleeping circumstances. Be back soon as I get a good nights rest. |
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Relezite
Joined: May 21, 2007
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Jan 23, 2014 - 22:48 |
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Deep in the northern territories of the Arni lies a legendary plateau known as Gunderbluv. Several thousand meters off the ground in every direction, the top of it can only be reached by means of secret, precarious paths known only to the coaches of the Arni, passed from head to assistant, generation after generation. The peak of this plateau is of the size, more or less, of a blood bowl pitch. It is unusable as such however, not only due to the lack of any solid footing for the fanbase, but also because once, many eras past, a mighty storm swept onto Gunderbluv, and to this day has never ceased. Frozen rain and hail ice rack the peak nonstop, gale winds of immense force whip to and fro, and great cracks of booming thunder rock the whole area constantly.
It is here that the core strength of the Arni line is forged, and today we find the prodigal draftee Johnathan "Bandwagon" McCrary suffering his inauguration into the ranks of the team with veteran linemen Kveldulf Lambson and Thorlakr Thorgeirson. Together they execute drills under the ever silent supervision of the masked line coach known only as Beefgristo.
Beefgristo: ...
Johnathan: (shouting) How much, longer, does he, do we, have to keep this up? I can't remember what my face is supposed to feel like!
Kveldulf: (grunting) Get your head down son, grit, push, plant your feet, drive the line. If you fall, we all fall.
Johnathan: This is insane! You guys won the trophy, won everything! We, I mean you, should be celebrating! What the hell?
Thorlakr: (laughing) My is like this celebration! Is fun up here, brrrr, haha!
Kveldulf: We don't ride the bandwagon, newbie, we gorking TOW IT, now PUSH!
Johnathan: (pitiful weeping drowned out by raging storm and troll laughter)
Beefgristo: (solemn, mysterious nod)
NFC EAST PHILHALA ARNI:
DRAFT GRADE: C+
CURRENT TEAM STRENGTH: A+
DIVISION RANKING: 1ST |
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OTS
Joined: Jul 12, 2004
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Jan 23, 2014 - 23:29 |
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Relezite
Joined: May 21, 2007
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Jan 27, 2014 - 20:18 |
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The kingdoms of the NFC North spent the last thousand years mired in a seemingly inescapable dark age. Every decade saw the overturning of a dozen lords and at least one would-be-king met his gruesome end. Teams came and went, but never with the stability required to compete. Mercenary coaches took over for desperate people just looking for a win, but these coaches had no loyalty to the teams or the sport and just grabbed everything they could before absconding by the third game of the season.
It was in the algae-rich waters of the Green Bay that the stability of the kingdom was finally forged. In this small land, a legend was preserved, an ancient tale of the noble and valorous Hay Whackers of times long past. Young tadpoles grew up on fantastic stories of skilled knights striking deep into the pitch and sending the forces of evil scattering into the stands. At the pinnacle of chivalrous virtue and the champion of ten thousand games was the knight-king Brett Farvelot, around whom all this legend centered. It was said, for example, that one time in the final seconds of the second half of the Superbowl game being played in a sub-arctic blizzard of unmatched proportion, Sir Brett threw a hail-mary pass so strong and true and clutch that the pass itself became known to all who witnessed it that day as Wintercleave.
Whether or not the legends of Farvelot and the exploits of the Whackers were true (they were), the frog-people of Green Bay took them and their virtues to heart, and over generations created a kingdom of Attackers strong enough to unite the warring lands of the NFC North and then at last bring the trophy back to Green Bay. It seemed like a recipe for a new, Farvian dynasty, until the Arni swept in and put and end to the seemingly unstoppable Attackers.
Months later, in the swamp castle of Lake Lambeau, stand the four strongest knights of the Attackers: Puka Lopa, Tramon Williams, Brad Jones, and the man often called 'Farvelot Reborn,' Charles Woodson. They face the lord of the castle, and coach of the Attackers, Mike McCarthy. A bileous toad of more than three half ton's weight, he spills over the confines of his immaculate golden throne. His wroth from the results of the NFC championship game has simmered to low boil, but it still lingers in his barely open eyes that stared down the knights before him. Only Sir Woodson stands uncowed. He presses his webbed hand against his breast and lowers his head.
Sir Woodson: My lord McCarthy, you summoned us, we are here.
Coach McCarthy: (snorts) And in no small amount of time, Sir Woodson, I expected your company almost a fortnight past!
Sir Woodson: Apologies, lord, but the king forestalled us greatly, insisting on our attendance at Sir McBridee's...retirement.
(other knights color visably)
Coach McCarthy: Ah, yes, the roasting. I should give my king a tenth of my fiefdom just to have control over my own lineup again, but he would hear no reason after the Arni debacle. I would have offered Sir McBridee a little more mercy. Not much, mind you, but something. Regardless! I wish to hear you report on the enemy.
Sir Woodson: Yes lord. As per the treaty with Minnesota, we have glean good information from the tribute scrims this season, the W-
Coach McCarthy: (belches loudly) Do not trifle me! The enemy! The men of the east what raided our lands and stole the trophy from our vaults! Do not waste my time with news of the peasant lands.
Sir Woodson: Sir we don't know. The norsemen are banned from entering our lands and us theirs since the king's decree at the championship game. Information is scarce.
Coach McCarthy: Lady of the Bay save me from the stupidity of that man...
NFC NORTH GREEN BALL ATTACKERS:
DRAFT GRADE: C+
CURRENT TEAM STRENGTH: A-
DIVISION RANKING: 1ST |
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