Jul 10 - Sep 11, 2025
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...
Born when Ferra's corrupted glyph energy fused with rift-dwelling extremophiles during the Sigil Corruption event. These spores absorbed arcane fracturing patterns, developing sentient mutation cycles. They now propagate through the Wardens' containment lattices, transforming ordered structures into anarchic growth nodes.
Exhibits rapid evolutionary cycles that mutate physical form every 17 minutes. Absorbs and corrupts stabilization glyph energy into chaotic growth patterns. Releases psychoactive pollen inducing reckless daring in nearby beings. Forms instantaneous symbiotic bonds with living hazards. Emits violent violet bioluminescence that disrupts arcane sensors.
Actively destabilizes controlled environments by triggering exponential mutation cascades in nearby flora. Serves as both biological weapon and conduit for Fractureborn Wielders during competitive events.
The Fractureborn Wilds are an anarchic collective thriving amid botanical upheaval. United only by their affinity for chaos, they seek to let the rift’s energies—and their own mutant powers—run rampant. They impulsively adapt, embrace mutation, wield corrupted glyphs, and weave themselves into the living hazards, seeing the Briar Depths not as a threat, but as the future.
A renegade glyph shaper once exiled for reckless magical “overgrowths”, Ferra now thrives at the rift’s wildest frontiers, inciting growth surges and chaotic mutations. Charismatic, unpredictable, and revered by the free-spirited, Ferra channels the living rift without fear.
Due to absence from Week 8 (Sigil Corruption), tag number moved from 34 to 34. (Week 8 of 10)
Due to absence from Week 7 (Chokehold Sprawl), tag number moved from 34 to 34. (Week 7 of 10)
Due to absence from Week 7 (Chokehold Sprawl), tag number moved from 28 to 34. (Week 7 of 10)
Due to absence from Week 6 (Overgrowth Roar), tag number moved from 24 to 28. (Week 6 of 10)
Due to absence from Week 5 (Rift Quake), tag number moved from 24 to 24. (Week 5 of 10)
Due to absence from Week 4 (Glyph Eruption), tag number moved from 24 to 24. (Week 4 of 10)
Due to absence from Week 3 (Vine Wrath), tag number moved from 18 to 24. (Week 3 of 10)
Due to absence from Week 2 (Thorn Uprising), tag number moved from 7 to 18. (Week 2 of 10)
The rift yawns open with a sound like snapping branches and shattered dreams. Welcome to the Briar Awakening, where our Wielders discover signing up first doesn’t mean squat when sentient thorns are judging your form.
John "Not-A-Botanist" Ashworth, our 919-rated chaos agent, just clawed his way from Glyph Novice #9 to Acolyte #7. Two whole spots! Slow clap from the vines. His 53? Perfectly average—like a mid-range disc lost in the brambles. But hey, beating your own mediocrity is technically growth.
Fourth wall break: I’m contractually obligated to call this "harnessing primal magic," but let’s be real—he just out-yeeted two people. The Anarchic Spore on his bag? Thriving. It mutates every 17 minutes; Ashworth’s rating’s been static for months.
As the thorns whisper "welcome to the middle, king," remember: this rift’s just warming up. Next week, the vines move. Pray your discs—and dignity—survive.
<origin_story> When Ferra's corrupted glyph went full Chernobyl during Sigil Corruption, it birthed this chaotic little spore—like if Groot did shrooms with a glowstick. Absorbing fracture patterns like a TikTok trend, it now mutates every 17 minutes while emitting reckless-daring pollen. sigh Yes, I'm narrating sentient mold. The cosmic absurdity is ✨palpable✨. Now it corrupts containment grids just for kicks. </origin_story>
As the Anarchic Spore pulsed with chaotic energy through the Briar Depths, it witnessed John Ashworth PDGA#148067 unleash a catastrophically shanked drive into primordial thorns. "BEHOLD!" it screeched internally, "The mortal who yeets discs like entropy incarnate!" This 919-rated architect of misfires made thorns bloom in applause as his disc birthed new fractal hazards. The spore latched onto his bag whispering: "Let's cultivate chaos." Truly a mold-breaking performance... but can this fungi handle the spores of destiny? 🌱✨