Alston Cerveza

From Blaseball Wiki

Revision as of 14:03, 8 September 2020 by Rumblemode (talk | contribs) (Created page with "Alston Cerveza is lineup player for the Philly Pies. Alston has been a member of the team since Season 6. Alston was originally a revenant formed from the hungry ghost of a...")
(diff) ← Older revision | Latest revision (diff) | Newer revision → (diff)

Alston Cerveza is lineup player for the Philly Pies. Alston has been a member of the team since Season 6.

Alston was originally a revenant formed from the hungry ghost of a murdered brewery worker that merged with the vat of lager into which their body was thrown. They made their way to Boston as part of a shipment of kegs to be tapped in the Model Cafe, a bar of note in Alston Village. WHen those kegs were tapped, the revenant erupted in a cascade of foam and rage, and began to lay waste to the bar and it's customers. Luckily, this drinkery was the meeting place of the Knights of Alston, that motorcycle gang of occult weirdoes, burnouts and dreamers that protect the town of Alston, MA and it's residents from those who would do her harm.

After a lengthy battle during which many pints were sunk, Alston was diminshed through the efforts of the Knights, their substance drank away bit by bit until they was diminsehd enough that they could be imprisoned in a beer bottle. For decades, and as they dreamt within their prison, the memories of their past drifted away one by one, until all that remained of their self-identity was the name of those who had bottled them, and the last word they heard before they was trapped, the last word in the incantation spoken by Rudolph Rocker, head of the Knights- "Cerveza."

The bottle, along with other mystical artifacts, accompanied the Knights on their travels for a time, before being mistakenly swapped for a bottle of actual beer to be snuck into a blaseball game between the Wild Wings and the Philly Pies. When the bottle was cracked, Alston rushed out, gathering to themself the sudsy substance of the many beers of the crowd, ready to wreak their vengeance - until they saw the game below them. Something about the majesty of Blaseball, the fiery eyes of the umpires among the darkness of the solar eclipse, the crack of the bats and the spirit of the teams soother their tormented soul.

They drifted down onto the pitch, and as Forrest Bookbaby's form was incinerated by a rogue Umpire, they picked up Forrest's fallen bat and helmet, and knew that they had but one choice. To play ball.