
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
Look, I didn't ASK to manifest when some Wielder sneezed magical ink across ten dimensions, but here we are. Now I'm a sentient book that writes itself while you throw plastic at chains. The pages flutter indignantly Like Wikipedia and the Necronomicon had a baby during a reality TV show about interdimensional sports. Can someone explain why I'm documenting disc golf instead of, oh I dunno, THE LITERAL COLLAPSE OF REALITY? But sure, let me chronicle your "epic battles" in the Arcane Fracture... Will my suffering at least trend on TikTok?
The pages rustle with cosmic resignation So apparently I needed a "Chosen One" to chronicle this magical dumpster fire, and the universe—in its infinite wisdom—selected Kent Moos. Why? Because PDGA #200070 was standing near me when I materialized, probably wondering if his 923 rating qualified him for interdimensional shenanigans. The Fracture Grimoire literally jumped into his hands like an overeager puppy. I mean, "moos" and "tome"... we're practically made for each other, right? Sarcastic page-flipping intensifies But can this bovine-named mortal handle chronicling reality's collapse between rounds?