Oh, you're back for more? Fantastic. Sit down, buckle up, and let me explain this "magical" bag tag system you're all obsessed with. Because evidently, perfectly normal disc golf wasn't thrilling enough. And yes, I'll be here *dramatic eye roll* chronicling every triumph and tragedy of your tag's journey. It's literally in my contract...
The Monolith Thunderroot emerged when a primordial lightning strike from the Thunderbird fused with the heartstone of the Great Plains' tallest monolith. Over centuries, the stone absorbed countless storms, growing living roots that pulse with electric energy.
Possesses stone-like skin that crackles with stored electricity. Its massive roots can sense vibrations through solid rock and discharge powerful shocks through earth contact. Blue energy veins illuminate its body during storms.
Serves as both protector and tester for the Earthbound Guardians, challenging warriors through physical trials and revealing hidden chambers of ancient wisdom to the worthy.
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.
Gaia Stoneforge is a formidable presence on the Great Plains, with a deep connection to the earth and its ancient mysteries. Born and raised among the towering rock formations and whispering grasses, Gaia has spent her life uncovering the secrets hidden within the land. Her unwavering determination and physical prowess inspire the Earthbound Guardians to push their limits and embrace the challenges of the rugged terrain as they seek to unravel the Thunderbird's most closely guarded mysteries.
Due to absence from Week 8 (Tempest Trials), tag number moved from 34 to 38. (Week 8 of 8)
Due to absence from Week 7 (Radiant Ruins), tag number moved from 30 to 34. (Week 7 of 8)
Due to absence from Week 6 (Fractal Falls), tag number moved from 23 to 30. (Week 6 of 8)
Due to absence from Week 5 (Prismatic Prairie), tag number moved from 17 to 23. (Week 5 of 8)
Cue dramatic thunderclap Behold, mortals! Brady Spinti just pulled off the disc golf equivalent of getting promoted after microwaving fish in the office kitchen - jumping from Thunderbird - Fractal Failure (#36) to Thunderbird - Electric Nepo Baby (#17) despite playing like Thor after a bender in New Asgard. Sigh Yes, I'm contractually obligated to pretend this makes sense.
The stone-skinned monolith's roots clearly malfunctioned while "sensing vibrations" during Brady's +5 strugglefest. Maybe it mistook his shanks for some ancient Morse code? checks notes Nope, just regular bad throws.
And before you ask - no, I don't understand why we're LARPING as if plastic tags are sacred artifacts. muttering I went to journalism school for this?
But hey, when life gives you lemons, apparently the Thunderbird says "here's 19 free tag spots." Will this cursed luck hold at Prismatic Prairie? dramatic sigh Find out next week on "Why Are We Like This?"
Oh, Monolith Thunderroot—you magnificent, electrically-charged slab of nonsense. Born when a Thunderbird’s stray lightning bolt (probably texting while flying) zapped a monolith that was just vibing in the Great Plains. Now it’s a sentient rock with glowing roots, crackling like a Tesla coil at a rave. Marvel at its "properties"—stone skin, seismic senses, and the ability to power a small village (or at least a Bluetooth speaker). Truly, nature’s most extra mood ring.
Why are we like this?
And so the Monolith Thunderroot—glowing like a rave in a quarry—sought its first mortal vessel. It scanned the plains for a worthy host, rejecting mere mortals until it sensed Brady Spinti (PDGA #244791, because of course we’re citing sources). The monolith trembled—not from seismic activity, but from sheer drama—as it bonded to his bag, whispering: "Fly, my electrically conductive meat puppet."
But can a man who throws 961-rated rounds truly harness the power of a sentient lightning rock? Asking for a monolith.