

Spencer Livsey #188539


Secrets of the Serpent @ Urban Forest
Wielding the power of Rune Weaver (#2), Spencer demonstrated exceptional skill by playing +18 points above their rating in this epic clash.
Kelburn's Keep
Angus MacTavish has guided the Guardians to victory in the mist-shrouded Loch Ness opener, as newcomer Kenneth Oetker unwittingly becomes the vessel for an ancient power. While Dr. Eliza Blackwood probes the loch's secrets with forbidden science, the Mist Warden stirs, choosing champions and obscuring truths. As hidden markers and eerie visions hint at a deeper mystery, the battle lines between progress and tradition are drawn. With an ancient evil awakening in Nessie's domain, the disc golfers of the Loch Ness Chronicles must unite or fall as the Highland mists conceal a rising darkness.



Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
Episode 2: Kelburn's Keep
The ancient stones of Kelburn's Keep rose from the Highland mist like the spine of some great beast, weathered gray against the pewter sky. As Tournament Director, I'd chosen this location carefully—not just for its challenging terrain, but for what lay hidden within its crumbling walls. Centuries of MacTavish guardians had protected these ruins, knowing they contained clues to Nessie's true nature that few were ready to comprehend.
I watched as players gathered in the bailey, their excited chatter echoing off stone walls that had stood since before Scotland was a nation. Among them, a slender man with wire-rimmed glasses stood apart, running his fingers over the intricate knotwork of his bag tag with unusual intensity. Spencer Livsey—a name I'd heard but a face I hadn't yet met—seemed transfixed by the castle's presence, his eyes darting between ancient carvings with scholarly precision.
As he approached a section of wall adorned with faded runes, his bag tag—Cryptid CS17 Rune Weaver—began to emit a soft amber glow. More interesting still was how the ancient symbols on the wall seemed to respond, pulsing with matching light as though awakening from centuries of slumber.
"Fascinating reaction," came a familiar voice behind me. Dr. Blackwood stood with arms crossed, observing Spencer with predatory interest. "I don't believe I've seen that particular... phenomenon before."
"The stones remember those who speak their language," I replied evenly. "Not everyone hears their whispers."
Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "Or perhaps some of us simply have better recording equipment." She nodded toward Spencer. "He's new to the circuit, isn't he? Academic background, linguistics if I'm not mistaken."
I shouldn't have been surprised by her intelligence gathering. "You've done your homework."
"Always." She adjusted the brass compass hanging at her neck. "Kelburn's Keep is an interesting choice, Angus. These ruins have been off-limits to researchers for decades. Your family's influence, I presume?"
"Historical preservation," I countered. "Some things are best left undisturbed."
"Nothing should be left undisturbed if it can advance human knowledge." She checked her watch. "I should prepare for the round. Lovely catching up."
As she walked away, I noticed Kenneth Oetker approaching Spencer, his own bag tag—Lochland Leviathan—emitting faint blue wisps of light that curled like mist around his fingers.
The tournament began with players navigating through the castle's outer bailey, where fairways wound between crumbling walls and mandatory shots through ancient archways tested even the most precise throwers. I kept my group moving briskly, aware that the real challenge awaited in the inner keep.
When we reached the fifth hole, a demanding par 4 that required a drive through a narrow window in the castle's eastern wall, Spencer paused before throwing.
"These markings," he murmured, tracing the weathered stone beside the tee pad. "They're not just decorative. It's a variant of ogham script, but with elements I've never seen documented."
His bag tag pulsed brighter as his fingers moved across the symbols, and to my astonishment, the runes began to rearrange themselves, shifting into new patterns beneath his touch.
"What's happening?" he asked, not withdrawing his hand despite his evident surprise.
"The Rune Weaver recognizes you," I said quietly, ensuring the other players were out of earshot. "The stones are responding to your presence."
Spencer adjusted his glasses, scholarly curiosity overcoming his initial shock. "Rune Weaver? You mean my bag tag? It's just a disc golf accessory."
I smiled. "Is it? Look again."
The knotwork pattern on his tag had transformed, now depicting a hooded figure with hands outstretched, surrounded by swirling symbols. As Spencer stared at it, the castle wall before us groaned, stones shifting to widen the window by several inches.
"Did I... did I do that?" he whispered.
"The castle is making your shot more accessible," I explained. "It's a good sign. Kelburn's Keep doesn't trust easily."
Spencer stepped up to the tee with newfound confidence, his drive sailing smoothly through the widened window and landing in perfect position for his approach. Throughout the front nine, this pattern continued—ancient doorways unsealing as he approached, fallen debris clearing from his path, runes illuminating to guide his way.
During our mid-round break, I found Spencer studying his tag intently.
"It keeps changing," he said without preamble. "The patterns shift every time I approach different sections of the castle. And I can... I can read inscriptions that should be indecipherable. Languages I've never studied somehow make perfect sense."
"The Rune Weaver is one of the oldest protectors of Loch Ness," I explained. "It serves as both guardian of knowledge and conduit for the magic that keeps certain forces contained. It appears it has chosen you as its current vessel."
"Like Kenneth and his mist connection?" Spencer asked, surprising me with his perception.
"You've noticed?"
He nodded. "Difficult not to. The mist parts for him, sometimes forms shapes around him when he throws. We spoke briefly before the round."
"The Mist Warden and the Rune Weaver are old allies," I confirmed. "It's significant that they've both chosen champions so close together."
Spencer frowned. "Champions for what, exactly?"
Before I could answer, we were interrupted by Dr. Blackwood, who approached with professional cordiality and calculating eyes.
"Mr. Livsey, I couldn't help noticing your unusual affinity for the castle's architecture," she said. "I'm conducting research on the relationship between ancient sites and electromagnetic anomalies. Your assistance would be invaluable."
She produced an ornate disc from her bag—a mid-range with runic inscriptions etched into its plastic. "A small token of appreciation for considering my offer. One of only five prototypes with these specific runic patterns."
Spencer accepted the disc cautiously, and the moment it touched his hand, his bag tag flared with warning light. The runes on the disc began to shift, rearranging into what I recognized as a binding spell—one designed to tether Spencer's emerging abilities to Blackwood's control.
"Interesting reaction," Spencer said, his voice suddenly cool as he handed the disc back. "But I prefer to keep my bag consistent. Thank you for the offer, though."
Dr. Blackwood's smile tightened. "Of course. The offer remains open should you reconsider." She glanced at me before departing. "He's quite the find, Angus. I wonder what other secrets this tournament will reveal."
As we began the back nine, the sky darkened prematurely, heavy clouds gathering above Kelburn's Keep with unnatural speed. The wind carried whispers that prickled the skin, and several players reported hearing their names called from empty corridors.
The twelfth hole required a throw from the castle's highest accessible tower down to a basket nestled in what once had been the great hall. As Spencer prepared his drive, his bag tag pulsed urgently, and the stones beneath his feet trembled.
"Something's wrong," he said, stepping back from the tee. "The castle is... afraid."
At that moment, a player's shout echoed from below, followed by the ominous rumble of shifting stone. We rushed to the parapet to see a section of the inner keep collapsing, dust billowing from freshly opened fissures in the ancient walls.
"Dr. Blackwood," Spencer said grimly, pointing to a figure darting away from the affected area, equipment in hand.
We descended quickly to find several players trapped behind a fall of heavy stones. What disturbed me more was the chamber revealed by the collapse—a hidden room whose walls were covered in dense inscriptions surrounding a central image of a serpentine creature emerging from stylized waves.
"Everyone stand back," I ordered, assessing the situation. Two players were trapped, though thankfully unharmed.
Kenneth arrived moments later, wisps of mist curling around him. "What happened?"
"Dr. Blackwood appears to have been doing some unauthorized excavation," I replied. "She's destabilized the entire eastern section."
Spencer approached the fallen stones, his bag tag now blazing with amber light. "I can feel the runes throughout the structure. They're connected, forming a network that's been holding these walls together for centuries." He placed his palm against the nearest stone. "And now they're failing."
"Can you restore them?" I asked.
He hesitated only briefly before nodding. "I think so. The patterns are showing me how they should align."
As Spencer began tracing glowing symbols in the air, Kenneth stepped forward. "I can help," he said, raising his hands as tendrils of mist flowed from his fingers, weaving between Spencer's runic patterns.
The effect was immediate and striking. Where Spencer's amber runes touched Kenneth's blue mist, the resulting energy flowed into the damaged walls like liquid light, reinforcing ancient bonds and stabilizing the structure. The trapped players were soon freed, and the tournament resumed with a modified layout that avoided the damaged areas.
I found Dr. Blackwood later, calmly taking notes beside the revealed chamber.
"Your recklessness nearly injured my players," I said, anger barely contained.
She didn't look up from her notebook. "A minor structural adjustment to access a historically significant chamber. The benefits far outweigh the risks."
"That chamber was sealed for a reason."
"Yes," she finally met my gaze, "to keep people like me from learning the truth. But it's too late, Angus. I've already documented the inscription."
"Have you translated it?" I asked, knowing the answer but needing to gauge her progress.
Her smile was triumphant. "Enough to understand its significance. 'The Great Awakening approaches when the serpent stirs from ancient slumber.' Rather dramatic, don't you think?"
I didn't correct her incomplete translation, nor mention the critical warning that followed those words—a warning only those connected to the Rune Weaver could perceive.
As the final groups finished their rounds, Spencer approached the newly revealed chamber, drawn by the inscriptions that covered its walls. His bag tag had transformed again, now showing a complex pattern of interlocking knots forming a shield.
"This is what Dr. Blackwood was after," he said as I joined him. "But she's only seen part of the message."
He traced the inscriptions with his finger, the runes illuminating at his touch. "There's a hidden layer here, visible only through the Rune Weaver's sight. It speaks of a 'Great Awakening,' but not as an opportunity—as a catastrophe."
Spencer's expression grew grave as he continued reading. "'When the serpent stirs from ancient slumber, the void between worlds shall thin. The Great Awakening heralds not enlightenment but extinction, for that which sleeps beneath the loch is neither beast nor god, but visitor from beyond the stars.'"
A chill ran through me despite having suspected this truth for years. "The prophecy confirms what my family has protected for generations. Nessie is not of this world."
"There's more," Spencer continued, his voice dropping to a whisper. "'The seven sites of power must remain sealed, lest the visitor's kindred find the path home. The first guardians gave their blood to forge the chains; the last guardians shall give their wisdom to maintain them.'"
He turned to me, understanding dawning in his eyes. "The disc golf courses. They're built on these sites of power, aren't they?"
I nodded. "The modern game follows ancient paths. What better way to ensure regular human presence at sites that need protection? The energy of players moving through specific patterns helps maintain the seals that have kept Nessie's... relatives... from finding their way here."
"And the bag tags?"
"Conduits for that protective energy, and markers for those chosen to maintain the balance." I gestured to his tag. "The Rune Weaver has selected you because of your affinity for languages and symbols. You can perceive and manipulate the protective network in ways others cannot."
Spencer was quiet for a long moment, processing this revelation. "Dr. Blackwood doesn't understand what she's tampering with, does she?"
"She believes she's pursuing scientific discovery. In reality, she's dismantling protections that have kept this world safe for millennia."
A commotion outside drew our attention. The awards ceremony was beginning, and to my satisfaction, the scores revealed another victory for the Guardians of the Loch. Whether guided by the castle's favor or simply more attuned to its challenges, those aligned with my faction had performed exceptionally well.
After announcing the results, I addressed the gathering. "Kelburn's Keep has tested your skills today, revealing strengths and weaknesses in equal measure. Our next challenge awaits at Devil's Cairn, where the ancient stones will test not just your throwing arm, but your courage."
As players dispersed, Kenneth and Spencer approached me together, their bag tags glowing in complementary harmony.
"We need to talk about what happens next," Kenneth said. "The mist showed me visions of Devil's Cairn. Something waits for us there."
Spencer nodded in agreement. "The runes speak of a hidden chamber within the cairn, containing an artifact of great power. If Dr. Blackwood finds it first..."
"Then we must ensure she doesn't," I said firmly. "The tournament at Devil's Cairn is three days from now. Until then, I need you both to strengthen your connections to your guardians. The powers awakening within you may be our best defense against what's coming."
As darkness fell over Kelburn's Keep, the runes Spencer had activated continued to glow, forming a protective network across the ancient stones. For the first time in centuries, the castle stood fully warded against intrusion, its secrets once again secure.
But elsewhere, in a temporary laboratory set up in her rental cottage, Dr. Blackwood studied rubbings taken from the hidden chamber, her eyes gleaming with triumph as her computers processed the images. On her screens, patterns emerged that matched astronomical charts—alignments of stars and planets that would reach their peak in exactly six weeks, coinciding perfectly with the final tournament of the Loch Ness Chronicles.
"The Great Awakening," she whispered to herself, fingers tracing the constellation patterns. "Not extinction, but evolution. The next step in human understanding."
She didn't notice how her brass compass spun wildly on its chain, or how the shadows in her room seemed to deepen and shift with purpose. Beneath the dark waters of Loch Ness, something ancient stirred in response to her words, sending ripples across the surface that formed, for just a moment, the unmistakable pattern of the same runes Spencer had activated at Kelburn's Keep.
The second battle for the loch's secrets had been won by the Guardians, but the war was far from over. And with each discovery, the slumbering presence beneath the waters grew more restless, more aware. The Great Awakening was coming, whether we were prepared or not.
Flippy's Hot Take