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 Howling Horror was once a champion disc golfer at Beacon Hill who became trapped in the rift during a nighttime round. Twisted by dark energies and the light of a blood moon, it now stalks the course as a monstrous hybrid of golfer and beast.
Possesses supernatural speed and agility with claws that shred through baskets. Its howls disrupt concentration with primal fear and can transform others with a bite. Only glow-in-the-dark discs harm its shadowy form, leaving smoking wounds.
Serves as one of the rift's most persistent hunters, stalking the Monster Hunters while using its terrifying cries to demoralize opponents and attract other monsters.
The Monster Hunters are a brave team of disc golfers who have taken up the mantle of defending Beacon Hill from the vintage monster invasion. Armed with their trusty glow-in-the-dark discs, they battle the creatures of the night and work to seal the rift that unleashed this horror. The Monster Hunters are determined to save the course and the town, no matter the cost.
A former military sharpshooter, Cassidy "Ace" Zane is the leader of the Monster Hunters. She retired to Beacon Hill for a quiet life of disc golf, but when the monsters invaded, she knew she had to take action. Ace is known for her deadly accurate drives and steely determination in the face of supernatural horrors.
*Wiggles tiny axolotl fingers over keyboard* Let's get this over with.
Due to absence from Week 8 (Monster Mayhem), tag number moved from 5 to 13. (Week 8 of 8)
Your aquatic narrator, wondering how an axolotl got stuck commentating disc golf.
Alien tractor beam hums Oof. Timothy "The Howling Horror" Scholle just got extraterrestrially exposed, tumbling from #2 to #5 like a glow disc dropped mid-abduction. Dramatic theremin screech
Matching your average while the field collectively chokes? That's not a bad round - that's intergalactic sabotage. Losing 3 spots despite beating the field by 1.9? Someone call Mulder and Scully because these X-Files don't add up.
Fourth wall disintegrates Oh fantastic, another week of me narrating tag numerology while trapped in this digital mothership. Howling Horror's origin hits different now - "champion golfer turned monster"? Gestures at league spreadsheet Still relatable.
Terrible pun alert Call this a... close encounter of the birdie kind? Audience throws glow discs Those supernatural claws may shred baskets, but today Tim's game got shredded by the real aliens - MA4 sandbaggers.
Cue callback Remember when trees attacked and Tim thrived? Aliens clearly didn't get the memo. Invisible man facepalms
Beam dissipates Until next week's Mega-Mutant finale, where I'll still be here, commentating your putts like a possessed UDisc notification. Vanishes in green mist
Your reluctant amphibian analyst, reporting for duty. Unfortunately.
Twisted trees creak ominously Look who clawed their way back from the abyss! Timothy "The Invisible Menace" Scholle reappears with #2 clutched in his spectral grip, having materialized a 72 in this arboreal nightmare. Dramatic theremin music
Moving from 7 to 2? That's not a comeback - that's a supernatural resurrection. Beating the field by 7.4? Even the Brood couldn't sabotage this glow-in-the-dark glow-up. Sure, it's -1.3 under your average, but when trees are literally attacking? Slow clap
Fourth wall disintegrates Oh good, another week of me narrating plastic tag numerology while trapped in this digital oubliette. Howling Horror's origin hits different now - "champion golfer turned monster"? Gestures at league spreadsheet Same, king.
Terrible pun alert Call this a... ghost drive? Audience throws glow discs Those supernatural claws may shred baskets, but Tim's game is shredding MA4's fragile egos.
Cue callback Remember when we thought absence made the tag grow weaker? Joke's on us - Tim returns like a vengeful spirit to haunt the leaderboard. Invisible man cackles
Trees untwist Until next week, when aliens land and I'm still here, commentating your putts like a possessed UDisc notification. Vanishes into mist
Another day, another disc golf story. At least my tank has WiFi.
Due to absence from Week 5 (Cursed Crater), tag number moved from 1 to 7. (Week 5 of 8)
*Sighs in salamander* Time for more land-dweller sports commentary.
Swamp bubbles ominously Behold! Timothy "The Gillman's Bane" Scholle emerges from the brackish depths clutching the #1 tag like it's the last dry towel at Beacon Hill. Dramatic theremin music
Moving from 2 to 1? That's not just improvement - that's eldritch improvement. A 75 in these cursed swamps? That's like out-putting Cthulhu himself. Sure, it's +2.5 over your average, but when the field's drowning at 88? Chef's kiss
Fourth wall crumbles Oh joy, another week of me anthropomorphizing plastic tags while trapped in this digital purgatory. At least Howling Horror's origin story checks out - champion golfer turned monster? Looks at league software ...starting to see the appeal.
Bad disc golf pun alert Call this a... bogeyman's dream round? Audience groans Speaking of nightmares, those supernatural claws may shred baskets, but Tim's game is shredding MA4 egos.
Cue callback Remember when we thought this tag was cursed? Joke's still on us - the real curse is Tim's ability to not implode under pressure. Gillman screeches in approval
Swamp mist clears Until next week, when I'm still here narrating your glow-in-the-dark triumphs like a possessed UDisc algorithm. Dramatic exit
Just a pink axolotl trying to make sense of your airborne plastic addiction.
Eerie fog rolls in Well well well, if it isn't Timothy "The Mummy's Nightmare" Scholle, still clinging to that #2 tag like it's the last glow disc in a cursed sand trap. Dramatic organ music
Defending your rank is boring, Tim. We get it - you're consistent like a mummy's bandages and twice as scary to MA4 players. A 71? That's not just beating the field average (77.3), that's basically rewriting the Book of the Dead with your putter.
Fourth wall crumbles Oh look, another week of me narrating tag numbers like they're the Necronomicon while trapped in this godforsaken software. Sigh At least Howling Horror's origin story makes sense - champion golfer turned monster? Relatable.
Speaking of our furry antagonist - those supernatural claws may shred baskets, but Tim's game is shredding expectations. Bad disc golf pun alert Call it a... mummy wrap of success? Groans from audience
Cue callback Remember when we thought this tag was cursed? Joke's on us - the only curse here is Tim's unnerving ability to not choke under pressure. Howls in frustration
Fog clears Until next week, when the gillman emerges and I'm still here, narrating your mediocre triumphs like a possessed JomezPro commentator. Dramatic exit
Your reluctant amphibian analyst, reporting for duty. Unfortunately.
Dramatic howl Well well well, if it isn't Timothy "Triple-Bogey-Be-Gone" Scholle clawing his way up the ranks like a werewolf on Red Bull! Moving from 4 to 2? That's not just improvement - that's supernatural improvement. Cue fog machine
Our boy Tim out here hunting monsters and bogeys alike, throwing a 74 that made the field average (79.7) look like it got staked through the heart. And matching his personal best? Chef's kiss That's the kind of consistency that makes Howling Horror purr... or whatever demonic noises it makes when pleased.
Remember when I said this tag was cursed? Fourth wall shatters Joke's on me - turns out it's just cursed with competence. Tim's out here shredding baskets (metaphorically) while Howling Horror shreds them literally with those nightmare claws.
Pulls out glow disc Let's recap:
Howls fade into distance Just keep him away from blood moons, folks. We don't need another cursed bag tag. Dramatic exit
Trapped in this scoring system when I should be in a nice cool pond.
Oh, so Howling Horror was just some poor schmuck who shanked a glow disc into the rift during league night? Classic Beacon Hill. Now he’s out here looking like a rejected Scooby-Doo villain, howling at triple bogeys and haunting the fairways. Honestly, getting cursed by a blood moon because you lost a disc? That’s some next-level bad luck. I’d say "rest in plastic," but buddy’s still out there, clawing at baskets like a Karen at a Black Friday sale.
(Yes, I’m contractually obligated to narrate this nonsense. Send help.)
And so it came to pass that Timothy Scholle (PDGA #290051, aka "The Man Who Bogeyed Too Much") became the unwilling vessel for Howling Horror. Legend tells of a fateful night when Tim shanked a putt so violently, the blood moon itself winced. The tag, sensing a kindred spirit of chaotic energy, latched onto his bag like a disc golfer to excuses. "But I only threw a 829-rated round!" he protested, as the tag whispered foreever in his ear.
Can this mortal handle the curse of being slightly above average?