Cryptid Series
Mar 03 - Apr 27, 2025
Current Holder
John Petersberger
Phantom Piasa
Guardian of Cryptid Realms in Peril
Glowing Trails Betray My Presence
Aspects refreshed Dec 19, 2025
A shaman's spirit merged with the last Piasa during European colonization, becoming a guardian that appears when cryptid realms are endangered
Bioluminescent wing markings that change color based on threats, ability to phase between physical and spectral forms, piercing cry that only other cryptids can hear
Ecological sentinel that manifests when cryptid habitats face existential threats
Tag Details
Tag History
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
Sigh Another week, another mystical convergence. John Petersberger's +1 at Creekside has somehow convinced the Phantom Piasa to adopt traits from both the Rune Banshee and Taniwha Custodian. Because apparently one supernatural guardian wasn't enough? 🙄 Now we've got a spirit-beast that can create protective mists AND drain knowledge from enchanted objects. I mean, sure, that's totally normal for 5th place in a disc golf series. stares directly at camera Will our player's next round somehow spawn yet ANOTHER spectral being? At this rate, we'll need a paranormal HR department...
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
Behold! Phantom Piasa #117 emerged when a disc golfer’s shank hit a cursed oak, awakening the last Piasa’s spirit—now fused with a shaman’s ghost and, inexplicably, the vibe of a moody TikTok filter. Bioluminescent wings? Check. Ability to phase through trees (unlike your discs)? Check. A piercing cry only cryptids hear—probably complaining about OB rules. sigh Yes, we’re doing this. Why? Because folklore deserves puns and existential dread. Will it haunt your bag or your scorecard?
Ah, John Petersberger—PDGA #187939, aka "The Guy Who Definitely Didn’t Expect to Be Haunted by Folklore Today." Legend says Phantom Piasa #117 chose him when his shank ricocheted off a tree directly into his bag, which, let’s be honest, was the first accurate throw of his round. The tag pulsed with eerie energy, whispering, "Your scorecard already looks cursed—might as well accessorize." Now he’s stuck with a cryptid companion that judges his grip locks. Will John rise as a disc golf shaman... or just keep blaming the wind?