
Dallas Bean #173108

The Phoenix Series @ Art Dye
Wielding the power of Frostbound Echo (#33), Dallas demonstrated exceptional skill by playing +107 points above their rating in this epic clash.
Winter's Tale
The icy winds of winter have gripped Art Dye as Maxwell 'Frostbite' Flynn and Daniel McIllece investigate the chilling phenomena plaguing the course. Strange ice formations, eerie symbols, and sightings of a shimmering phoenix made of living frost have drawn them into a supernatural mystery that threatens to consume the very nature of the game. As impossible creatures stir in the shadows and enigmatic figures arrive bearing powerful bag tags pulsing with eldritch energy, Maxwell and Daniel must confront the terrifying truth behind the Ice Phoenix and the haunting prophecies of the long-vanished Elyse. With the winter solstice approaching and an ancient ritual poised to unleash the Phoenix's power, the detectives find themselves locked in a desperate race against time to save not only Art Dye, but the future of disc golf itself.



Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
Frozen Ascent
The morning of the final tournament dawned cold and still, an icy mist shrouding the transformed landscape of Art Dye. The once familiar fairways lay obscured beneath a crystalline veil, the very air seeming to hold its breath in anticipation of the coming storm.
Maxwell 'Frostbite' Flynn stepped onto the first tee, his breath clouding before him. Beside him, Daniel McIllece shivered, his eyes scanning the altered terrain.
"She's here," Maxwell said, his voice hardened by certainty. "I can feel it."
As if in response, a gust of frigid wind whipped across the course, carrying with it the ghostly echo of Elyse's laughter.
The tournament began, but it quickly became clear that this was no ordinary competition. Discs behaved erratically, their flight paths warped by an unseen force. Players stumbled, their footing treacherous on the icy turf.
And through it all, the sense of an immense presence loomed, a vast and ancient power stirring beneath the frozen soil.
On the 7th hole, Elyse made her move. She appeared as if from nowhere, her eyes alight with a feverish intensity.
"You're too late, Maxwell," she declared, her voice ringing with triumph. "The Ice Phoenix rises, and Art Dye will be reborn in its image!"
Maxwell stepped forward, his disc gripped tight. "I won't let you do this, Elyse. This course, these people... they don't deserve to be pawns in your twisted game."
Elyse laughed, a sound like cracking ice. "You still don't understand, do you? This is no game. This is destiny."
As they spoke, the ground trembled, great fissures snaking across the fairways. From the depths, a chill mist rose, coalescing into a shape both terrifying and beautiful.
The Ice Phoenix had awakened.
Chaos erupted as the great bird unfurled its wings, icy gusts buffeting the players. Maxwell and Elyse stood at the heart of the maelstrom, locked in a duel of wills.
"Why are you doing this?" Maxwell shouted over the howling wind. "What do you hope to gain?"
"Power," Elyse snarled. "The power to reshape this world, to make it as it should be. Cold. Perfect. Eternal."
As they clashed, Dallas Bean stumbled onto the scene, the Frostbound Echo glowing bright in his hand. Raising the relic high, he cried out.
"Stop! This has to stop!"
A blinding light pulsed from the Echo, and suddenly, the air was filled with visions of the past. Maxwell and Elyse as partners, laughing, exploring, pushing each other to be better. The joy and camaraderie of disc golf, shining through in a thousand shared moments.
And then, the schism. The slow poison of obsession, driving them apart.
As the visions faded, Maxwell lowered his disc, understanding dawning.
"This was never about the Phoenix," he said softly. "It was about us. About what we lost."
Elyse faltered, uncertainty flickering in her eyes.
Seizing his chance, Maxwell stepped forward, hand outstretched.
"It's not too late, Elyse. We can still fix this, together. Like we used to."
For a long, tense moment, Elyse hesitated. Then, with a shuddering breath, she reached out and took Maxwell's hand.
At their touch, the Ice Phoenix shimmered, its form shifting. Feathers of frost became leaves of grass, wings of ice transformed into fairways of green. The chill wind faded, replaced by the soft rustling of chains.
And Art Dye was quiet once more.
In the aftermath, as players picked themselves up and brushed off the snow, Maxwell stood with Elyse, surveying the course with new eyes.
"What now?" she asked, her voice small.
Maxwell smiled, hefting his disc. "Now? Now, we play. Like we used to. One hole at a time."
And so they did, the detective and the archivist, chasing a different kind of truth beneath the forgiving sky. In the end, the Ice Phoenix was neither savior nor destroyer, but a reflection of the course itself. A reminder that in disc golf, as in life, the most important battles are the ones we fight within ourselves.
And sometimes, the greatest victory is not in the scoreboard, but in the simple act of stepping up to the tee, and letting fly.
Flippy's Hot Take