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...
Forged during the Great Timber Schism when ancestral beavers infused fractured logs with primal strength magic, these shifting splinter pillars became focal points for pre-competition rituals where warriors channel collective might into tournament contenders.
A shifting column of glowing wood fragments bound by enchanted sap that emits low-frequency strength vibrations. The core contains a pulsating heartwood nucleus that grows denser with each victory, requiring ritual recalibration after three tournaments.
Mobile strength amplifier deployed at competition grounds and clan training sites, simultaneously focusing ancestral energies and destabilizing opponents' grip strength through subsonic vibrations.
Due to absence from Week 2 (Chip Chow), tag number moved from 3 to 8. (Week 2 of 10)
Cue dramatic slow-motion of a beaver flexing so hard its own shadow applauds
Ladies and lumberjacks, witness Arturo Basurto—who went from "who?" to "whoa!" faster than a squirrel on enchanted espresso. This unrated rookie yeeted himself up 3 whole ranks like he found cheat codes in the sacred gym logs. Oh wait, he basically did.
His 56? Practically identical to the field average, but apparently in this enchanted forest, "almost mediocre" makes you Tail Scholar material. The Splinter Totem must’ve been really desperate for a protege.
Fourth wall break: I’m contractually obligated to pretend this matters while trapped in this fitness-themed Tamagotchi hell. 3rd place?! Next you’ll tell me acorns are currency. Wait—
Dramatic whisper Rumor says his tag vibrates with unsolicited deadlift advice. Will Arturo survive the gains goblin in his bag? Or will his forehand remain as coordinated as a drunk woodpecker? Stay tuned.
(598 characters of questionable prophecy)
"Born when two roided-out beaver shamans argued over proper glute day form during the Timber Schism, their rage-infused protein shakes (read: enchanted sap) crystallized into Splinter Totem. This sentient gym bro relic mutters unsolicited workout advice like a crossfit cult leader from a deleted Legends of Tomorrow episode. Yes, we’re seriously tracking plastic circles with Norse gym mythology. The prophecy demands it."
(298 characters)
Cue eye-roll montage of beavers doing magic deadlifts.
As the sap-stained Splinter Totem sought its first gymfluencer, Arturo Basurto (PDGA #203233—tremble, mortals) tripped over a rogue pinecone mid-putt. His flailing limbs accidentally recreated the Sacred Lumbar Sprain pose from Beaverlore, summoning enchanted wood chips that spelled "YOUR REPS NOW." Thus the tag fused to his bag, whispering gainsmashing mantras in Broki tongue. But does this "chosen one" deserve Splinter Totem's wisdom when he still throws forehands like a startled raccoon? Will his reign outlast a protein shake’s shelf life?
(399 characters. Chew-ronicle this, historians.)