
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
Nicholas Stosiek's Eclipse Jorogumo (#79) has been updated based on their recent performance in the series.
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...
A primordial Jorogumo that ascended during a legendary eclipse, gaining power to bridge cryptid dimensions
Bioluminescent eclipse markings, eight reflective eyes, shadow-like web strands, phasing limbs
Weaver of interspecies cryptid alliances during celestial events
Nicholas Stosiek's Eclipse Jorogumo (#79) has been updated based on their recent performance in the series.
Sighs into microphone Tracking interdimensional spider demons wasn't in my job description, folks, but here we are. Nicholas Stosiek's -2 at Creekside has our Eclipse Jorogumo tag spinning quite the web of influence, drawing shadow-stalking techniques from the Nalusa Slayer. Because apparently, we needed MORE creatures that hunt in darkness.
Shuffles papers dramatically The tag's now developing some sort of night-putting prowess - perfect for those twilight rounds where players can't tell if they're being watched by eight eyes or just really intense card-mates. Will our arachnid friend's eclipse powers combine with shadow-hunting skills to create the ultimate nocturnal disc golf predator? Stay tuned, if you dare... 🕷️🌑
Behold Eclipse Jorogumo—born when a cosmic spider said "hold my sake" during a solar eclipse. This eight-legged cryptid influencer absorbed enough celestial drama to open interdimensional portals (and probably a TikTok account). Now it lurks in shadow webs, judging your form like a Japanese Spider-Man reboot nobody asked for. sigh Yes, we’re really doing spider golf lore.
The cosmic spider Eclipse Jorogumo spun its web of destiny—only to snag Nicholas Stosiek mid-putt. Was it fate? Or just bad luck when he accidentally threw his disc into a suspiciously webby bush? Either way, the tag clung to him like an overzealous caddy. "Congrats," hissed the spectral arachnid, "you’ve been spun into my narrative." Now he bears #107—but can he handle the eight-legged pressure, or will he crawl under expectations?
(Yes, that was a spider pun. No, I’m not sorry.)