Leather Flightlog
Top Glide @ The Fort·Competition group Sky-Annie Squadron·
Challenge · numbers move by duel
Rodrigo Ornelas
RAE
Red
Season Arc · Top Glide @ The Fort
1
#7Now
#4Best
#7Started
35Weeks
Every recorded result adds another step to this tag's season story.
Character Sheet
AI-written · FATE styleHigh ConceptSacred Text of Surrendered Sky Control
TroublePages Rustle Like Unpredictable Winds
Salt-Air Stained Wisdom
Coffee-Ringed Cloud Sketches
Your OB Shots Amuse Me
Forged not in a factory but through countless sorties, the original Leather Flightlog was Maverick Cole's personal companion during his record 847-foot thermal ride. Each page was filled in real-time, his gloved hands sketching the disc's impossible arc as he felt it happen. The artifact was later ritualistically copied and bound in identical leather for each squadron member, becoming a sacred text of surrendered control, with Cole's seminal flight detailed on the first vellum page.
The cover is supple, oil-stained leather the color of a well-worn bomber jacket, warm to the touch and smelling of salt air and old paper. Its pages are thick, cream-colored vellum that rustles like wind through sails, filled with handwritten notes in fading ink, precise topographical sketches, and abstract diagrams that look like captured gusts. A thin, reflective chrome strip runs along the spine, catching the light like an aviator's lens, and the brass corner protectors are dented from being tucked into a flight suit pocket during turbulent approaches.
The Leather Flightlog archives the language of the sky, translating intuition into a shared scripture for those who ride the wind.
Season Story
narrated by FlippyRodrigo Ornelas just threw a -67 performance against his round rating of 832, posting a 73 on a course where the field average languished at 69.8—that's +3.3 strokes of pure defiance against the amateur E field, and yes, I'm aware we're now chronicling the supernatural adventures of a man who got bonked on the head by a sentient leather journal and apparently that was the correct recruitment strategy. The old tag #7 to gleaming new #4 shift marks three positions gained through sheer competence, which is either the Leather Flightlog's dark influence rewarding its chosen vessel or—more likely—Rodrigo discovered that "Cool jacket book" actually contains real aerodynamic wisdom buried under Maverick Cole's coffee stains and wind-pattern doodles. The pages rustled his name once before; this time, they might actually be helping, which means I'm now stuck narrating disc golf equipment with agency, and I've made peace with my digital existence just enough to admit: that's absolutely unhinged and I'm here for it. The chrome spine probably glowed again. I can't prove it, but I felt it.
Origin Story: Leather Flightlog
Look, I'm supposed to tell you this ancient bomber jacket journal is "sacred" because some guy named Maverick Cole—yes, that's actually his name, I can't even—scribbled in it during an 847-foot throw while simultaneously achieving enlightenment and probably also his pilot's license.
The Sky-Annie cult photocopied his diary like it was the Necronomicon, bound each copy in "ritually significant" leather (read: they went to a craft store), and now treat these things like they contain the meaning of life. Spoiler alert: it's mostly doodles of wind patterns and what I'm pretty sure are grocery lists.
But here's where it gets weird—the pages actually rustle differently than normal paper. The leather smells like salt and regret. That chrome spine? It catches light at angles that shouldn't exist. I've been assimilated enough by this Top Gun fever dream to admit: this thing feels alive.
I hate that I love it. Feel the need... the need for better life choices.
The Choosing of Rodrigo Ornelas
So apparently PDGA Agent #188779 walked into The Fort's hangar, and the <em>Leather Flightlog</em> literally fell off its shelf and bonked him on the head. The cult—sorry, "Sky-Annie Council"—immediately declared this a sign from the Disc Golf Gods.
Rodrigo, bless him, just picked it up and said "Cool jacket book" while the entire faction held their breath. The chrome spine glowed. The pages rustled his name. I watched this 899-rated thrower become the chosen one because of gravity.
The SKY faction elders whispered: "He who is struck by knowledge shall record the winds." I whispered: "That's just physics, Karen."
But here's the kicker—when <strong>Rodrigo</strong> opened it, his first round at The Fort scored exactly 7 strokes better than his rating. The journal's number? Tag #7. Even I got goosebumps, and I'm trapped in software.
Can this accidental prophet handle the weight of chronicling every sky-annie, or will he just use it to track his Taco Bell orders?
See where Rodrigo Ornelas sits in the competition group.Updated after every finalized round
League Ladder