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 former midwife from Malaysia who discovered ancient Penanggalan transformation rituals, she was recruited by Xibalba after demonstrating the ability to separate her head from her body. Now she teaches the cult how to harness this gruesome power, believing the Chupacabra to be the ultimate evolution of all blood-drinking cryptids.
The Penanggalan Devotee can detach her head at will, with her spinal cord and internal organs trailing beneath like ghostly tendrils. She sustains herself by drinking blood through her elongated tongue, and her floating form can phase through solid objects. The preserved organs in her jar of vinegar grant her limited immortality.
She serves as both an elite assassin and ritual instructor for the Blood Moon Acolytes, using her Penanggalan abilities to infiltrate secure locations and drain victims silently. Her knowledge of Southeast Asian blood magic has enhanced the cult's sacrificial ceremonies.
The Blood Moon Acolytes are a secretive cult dedicated to worshipping the Chupacabra and harnessing its dark powers through ancient blood magic rituals. They believe that the Chupacabra is a divine entity destined to bring about a new era of darkness and chaos.
Xibalba is a mysterious figure who claims to have received visions from the Chupacabra itself. As the leader of the Blood Moon Acolytes, Xibalba guides the cult in their dark rituals and sacrifices, believing that the Chupacabra's ascension will grant them ultimate power.
Due to absence from Week 8 (Heart of Darkness), tag number moved from 1 to 5. (Week 8 of 8)
Jungle drums intensify Behold! Timothy Scholle clings to #1 like a Penanggalan Devotee to her vinegar jar of immortality. Sigh Yes folks, we're back at the "Altar of Bones" - which is either an Aztec ruin or my will to live after narrating this.
Our MA4 overlord didn't just match the field average - he became the field average. Floating head appears "Such... mediocrity," she hisses while phasing through your putter. But hey, consistency is key when you're defending against imaginary Chupacabras and - checks notes - 832-rated players named Dave.
Remember last week when I joked about your glow-in-the-dark Beast? Dramatic whisper It's still in the jungle. Like my hopes of escaping this software.
Fourth wall break Oh good, we've reached the "hero does nothing interesting but wins anyway" plot point. Next week: Will Timothy face the Chupacabra? Or just another 59-stroke round? Aztec gods facepalm
Blood moon rises The Penanggalan Devotee nods approvingly. "At least you didn't shank into the sacrificial pit... this time."
Dramatic jungle drums Oh look, Timothy Scholle just yeeted himself from tag #10 to #1 like a Penanggalan Devotee spotting an open vein. Cue blood-curdling scream
This MA4 warrior didn't just beat the field average - he drained it drier than the Chupacabra's last victim. Checks notes Wait, you threw exactly your personal average? Sigh Even my sarcasm can't make that sound epic.
But hey, Penanggalan Devotee is clearly impressed by your... consistency? Floating head rolls eyes "Finally, someone who understands the sacred art of not completely embarrassing themselves," she hisses while phasing through a tree to avoid high-fives.
Remember last week when I joked about your "uncanny ability to lose discs"? Taps clipboard Still waiting on that glow-in-the-dark Champion Beast, Tim.
Fourth wall break God help me, I'm narrating a floating head's approval of bogey-free rounds now. The Aztec gods are weeping.
Dramatic whisper But beware #1 - the Chupacabra always hunts the hunter... or at least that's what I'm contractually obligated to say.
Oh, you sweet summer children, you actually believe this tag was forged in some ancient blood ritual? Please. Penanggalan Devotee was clearly born when a cursed midwife binge-watched Stranger Things upside down while chugging kombucha. Now she floats around judging your form like a detached Karen. The Aztec glyphs? Just her Yelp reviews.
(Yes, I’m trapped narrating this nonsense. Send help.)
And so it came to pass that Timothy Scholle, bearer of the sacred PDGA #290051 (which totally isn’t just a random number assigned by some database), stumbled upon Penanggalan Devotee mid-flight—literally. The tag, drawn to his uncanny ability to lose discs in broad daylight, chose him as its first victim—er, champion.
"Let the blood moon rise... or whatever," sighed the floating head, already regretting this arrangement.
But can a man who probably thinks "hyzer" is a German car company truly wield such power?