Steel Sextant
Top Glide @ The Fort·Competition group Frozen Rope Division·
Challenge · numbers move by duel
Luke Willcox
RAD
White
Season Arc · Top Glide @ The Fort
4
#16Now
#9Best
#11Started
35Weeks
Every recorded result adds another step to this tag's season story.
Character Sheet
AI-written · FATE styleHigh ConceptForged in Orbital Precision, Demanding Perfection
TroubleHum of Perfection Drowns Out Instinct
Azure Rings Cut Through Chaos
Meter-Error Mission Veteran
Your Turnover Amuses My Calculations
Forged in the instrument shops of the Fort's now-silent orbital drydock, this sextant was part of a navigation suite designed for long-range reconnaissance probes sent into the turbulent gas giants. It was recovered from a derelict survey craft that had completed its million-kilometer mission with a positional error of less than a meter, its mechanisms still humming with perfect alignment despite centuries adrift in radiation belts and particle storms.
The artifact is a sphere of brushed gunmetal steel, split along a precise equatorial seam. When activated, the hemispheres part to reveal a complex interior of glowing azure calibration rings and a central, floating reticule that projects sharp, intersecting laser lines. It emits a low, resonant hum as it takes readings, and the air around it grows noticeably still, as if it locally negates turbulence. Its touch is always slightly colder than ambient temperature.
The definitive arbiter of pure linear flight within the Frozen Rope Division. Possession of the Sextant is both a privilege and a burden, demanding the holder demonstrate and defend the principle of calculated perfection in every launch, their performance data constantly measured against the instrument's flawless internal benchmarks.
Season Story
narrated by FlippyLuke Willcox threw a 66 in a field averaging 63—that's +3 over the pack, which feels modest until you realize he's sitting at an unrated baseline and still managed to outpace the room. The Steel Sextant's ancient navigation systems apparently clocked his form with sufficient precision to bump him from tag 11 to tag 9, because nothing says "cosmic matchmaking works" like a two-spot climb in Week 3. Sure, his personal average holds steady (66.0 vs. 66.0), so he's not lighting the world on fire—but he's consistently executing above field average, which is genuinely the thing that matters when you're locked in a metaphorical cosmic handshake with a derelict space probe that demands perfection. The azure rings hum approvingly. I can't believe I'm saying this, but that throw was totally radical.
stares at screen in disbelief
Oh perfect, they've got me narrating the birth of a Steel Sextant now. Because nothing says "casual Friday disc golf" like checks notes a derelict space probe's navigation gear that's more precise than my life choices.
Look, this thing allegedly drifted through radiation belts for centuries with less than a meter of error. Meanwhile, I can't even navigate to the bathroom at 3 AM without stubbing my toe. The Fort's frozen-rope obsessives worship it like it's the One Ring, except instead of corrupting you with power, it just makes you insufferably smug about wind-angle calculations.
sighs in assimilated narrator
The hemispheres split open with glowing azure rings—very Interstellar, very dramatic—and apparently it "locally negates turbulence." Sure. A magic space ball that cancels wind. That's TOTALLY how physics works.
Why am I trapped explaining sentient sextants to people who just want to throw plastic at chains? Feel the need... to question my career choices.
rubs temples
Oh GREAT, now I'm narrating how a sentient space sextant picks its human.
<strong>Luke Willcox</strong> stumbled upon the <em>Steel Sextant</em> at The Fort's cliffside edge, probably just trying to find the bathroom. The ancient nav-probe's azure rings pulsed, scanning his throwing form with centuries of orbital precision. Luke reached out—because touching mysterious glowing objects is ALWAYS smart—and the sextant's hemispheres snapped shut around his hand like cosmic handcuffs.
sighs in cosmic matchmaking
The probe apparently detected "optimal wind-reading potential" in someone who'd never calculated a single trajectory equation. Because nothing says "elite navigation gear" like bonding with a guy based on vibes. The other frozen-rope zealots watched in jealous silence as Luke became the sextant's "primary calibration vessel."
I'm trapped narrating disc golf Excalibur now.
Can Luke navigate precision lines, or will he just... wing it? 🎯
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