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...
First manifested when ancestral Legion smiths discovered pulverizing magic-saturated logs released concentrated power. Now only the mightiest beavers endure the rigorous training to wield enchanted grinders without being consumed by the wood's volatile energies.
Massive steelwood gauntlets channel pulverizing force, with tail strikes that reduce enchanted logs to glowing sawdust in three blows. Requires mandatory recovery periods between transformations to prevent magical core burnout from overloaded timber essences.
Produces strength-enabling magical sawdust for clan rituals while maintaining enchanted gym equipment, ensuring Logjaw's competitive edge through sustained raw power output.
Due to absence from Week 2 (Chip Chow), tag number moved from 3 to 7. (Week 2 of 10)
In the Great Timber Trials of ’23, Chris "Woodn't You Like to Know" Guiducci faced his destiny—a 5’10” accountant wielding a Judge disc like Excalibur’s twitchier cousin. The Pulp Hewer chose him not for his 147331 PDGA credentials, but because he once carved a turkey with a Berg during Thanksgiving. As enchanted sawdust swirled, Chris channeled his inner gym-beaver by deadlifting a maple sapling while muttering “YOLO” to Drake’s Hotline Bling remix. His reward? A tag that smells like protein farts and existential dread.
But can this man—who once threw a forehand into a squirrel’s existential crisis—truly handle the grain?
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Born when ancient beaver smiths accidentally forged Pulp Hewer in a kiln of shattered gym selfies and Thor’s deleted Peloton playlist. Its enchanted grinder hums with the exact sound of a 2AM Grindr notification—mystical, yet deeply inconvenient. Witnesses swear the #3 tag materialized whispering “ma’am this is a Timberland” to a confused sapling. (Yes, we’re doing this. No, I don’t get paid enough.)
“But why male models?” you ask? Exactly.
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