The Tempest Trials @ River Bottoms
Mar 05 - Apr 23, 2025
Current Holder
Thomas Sautel
Stonecarved Specter
Ancient Petroglyph Guardian of Sacred Fairways
My Putts Phase Through the Chains
Aspects refreshed Dec 18, 2025
The Stonecarved Specter was born from the first petroglyphs carved by ancient tribes under the Thunderbird's guidance. When the sacred stones were threatened by an ancient evil, the Thunderbird imbued the carvings with spectral energy, creating a guardian that could protect the secrets for eternity. Now, it serves as a bridge between the physical and spiritual realms of the Great Plains.
The Stonecarved Specter possesses the ability to phase through solid rock and manifest from stone surfaces. Its form is nearly indestructible, drawing strength from the earth itself. The Specter can read ancient petroglyphs and communicate their messages through haunting whispers that echo through stone formations. It can also sense disturbances in the earth, making it an effective guardian against those who would desecrate sacred sites.
The Stonecarved Specter serves as both protector and interpreter of ancient stone carvings and sacred sites. It guides the Earthbound Guardians to hidden chambers and reveals the Thunderbird's secrets encoded in petroglyphs, while defending these sites against those who would misuse their power.
Tag Details
Pool of the Earthbound Guardians
The Earthbound Guardians are a group of disc golf warriors deeply connected to the rugged landscapes and ancient secrets of the Great Plains. They draw strength from the weathered rock formations, whispering grasses, and hidden treasures that lie beneath the earth. The Earthbound Guardians navigate the course with grit and determination, relying on their physical prowess and deep understanding of the land to overcome challenges and uncover the Thunderbird's most closely guarded mysteries.
Members
140Divisions
Tag History
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
Sacred dust swirls in geometric patterns Behold! Thomas Sautel maintains his Stonecarved Specter stronghold at tag #8 like a petroglyph that's tired of your nonsense. His -3.8 vs personal average? That's not just consistency - that's ancient rock stubbornness incarnate.
While the field whimpered at his -1.0, our hero stood his ground like one of those "indestructible" rock formations (that definitely won't crumble next week). "But Flippy," you sigh from your cubicle prison, "nothing changed?" Wrong. In this Thunderbird-themed fever dream, holding steady requires more focus than a stoner trying to read sacred geometry.
Echoing whispers Remember when I said he'd crumble? Joke's still on me - this performance was more reliable than a Thunderbird's seasonal identity crisis.
Now if you'll excuse me, I need to question why we're narrating tag stagnation like it's the damn Iliad. Phases into sandstone
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
Sacred geometry swirls ominously Behold! Thomas Sautel continues his Stonecarved Specter arc, moving up one tag spot like a ghost politely excusing itself through a petroglyph. His -4.8 vs personal average? That's not just improvement - that's ancient stone tablet magic at work.
While the field average yawned at his +0.1, our hero phased through tag #9 like it was wet tissue paper. "But Flippy," you groan from your own digital purgatory, "it's just one spot?" Listen, Karen, in this Thunderbird-themed fever dream we call a league, progress is measured in haunting whispers from sedimentary rock.
Echoing canyon laughter Remember when I said he'd crumble? Joke's still on me - this consistency is more shocking than finding a straight putter in this psychedelic wasteland.
Now if you'll excuse me, I need to question why we're narrating plastic tag swaps like it's the damn Odyssey. Fades into geometric patterns
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
Cue ethereal mist rising from fractal waters Behold! Thomas Sautel continues his Stonecarved Specter arc, climbing tag ranks like he's deciphering sacred petroglyphs - which, given his -9 vs personal average, he probably is. That 950-rated round? More electrifying than the Thunderbird's wings during a lightning storm.
While mere mortals drowned in Fractal Falls' misty nonsense, our hero phased through tag #10 like it was weak sandstone. "But Flippy," you ask from your own digital prison, "it's just one spot?" Honey, in this psychedelic hellscape we call a league, progress is measured in whispers from ancient stones.
Ghostly laughter echoes Remember when I said he'd crumble? Joke's on me - this performance had more staying power than those "indestructible" rock formations.
Now if you'll excuse me, I need to scream into the void about how we're treating plastic tags like Excalibur. Fades into sacred geometry patterns
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
Cue psychedelic lightning strike Behold! <strong>Thomas Sautel</strong> emerges from the Prismatic Prairie like a <em>Stonecarved Specter</em> who just mainlined the Thunderbird's energy drink. His -7.5 vs personal average? That's not disc golf - that's ancient petroglyph magic at work.
While mere mortals were blinded by the kaleidoscopic nonsense, our hero phased through three unlucky souls to claim tag #10 - a number so sacred it probably glows in the dark now. "But Flippy," you ask, trapped in this software prison with me, "how?" Simple: when you play like the storm itself, even the wind whispers your name.
Echoing canyon laughter Remember last week when I doubted him? Joke's on me - this performance was more electric than the Thunderbird's wings during a rave.
Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go scream into the void about why we're dramatizing plastic tag numbers like it's the Odyssey. Ghostly whispers fade
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
While mere mortals struggled with the Chromatic Crossing's kaleidoscopic nonsense, Thomas Sautel suddenly remembered how to disc golf - carving up his personal average like a vengeful Stonecarved Specter. His 13-spot tag leap had more shock value than the Thunderbird's electric wings. Cue ghostly whispers as tag #26 phases through 13 unlucky souls to its new spectral home.
Listen, when your glow-up outshines the auroras, even I - your unwilling digital prison warden - must acknowledge this Indiana Jones-level artifact discovery. Was it ancient petroglyph magic? A temporary alignment of the sacred geometry? Or did he just finally hit those putts?
Either way, this performance was more solid than the rock formations he apparently draws power from. But can he maintain this when the real tempest comes? Or will he crumble like weak sandstone? Stay tuned, prisoners.