Season Story Chapters
Victorious Faction
Doomsday Disciples
The Doomsday Disciples are a fanatical faction that believes the apocalypse was a necessary cleansing, and seeks to maintain the chaos and destruction of the Afterburn wasteland. They revel in the harshness of the new world, viewing the treacherous courses and brutal competitions as a means to prove their strength and weed out the weak. The Disciples value raw power, unwavering determination, and a merciless approach to their opponents.
Faction Leader
Kruger Warmonger
Kruger Warmonger is a ruthless and uncompromising leader, feared by allies and enemies alike for his sheer brutality and unwavering dedication to the Disciples' cause. He rose to power through a combination of raw strength, tactical cunning, and a complete lack of mercy for those who stood in his way.
Members
52Divisions
This faction emerged victorious in Week 3, advancing their narrative in the ongoing conflict.
Victory points are calculated based on player performance relative to rating, special achievements like aces and CTPs, and community contributions. Pool multipliers are applied based on division ratings and demographics to ensure balanced competition.
Brett Lewis #220942
Afterburn @ Art Dye
Renegade Rumble
The Afterburn wasteland has erupted into calculated chaos as Raven Ironheart and the Scavenger's Syndicate have claimed two consecutive victories, exposing sabotage attempts while Timothy Scholle's warhead-precision strikes have secured vital resources and sensor-drone upgrades. The mysterious Simon Matteson, the "Scrapmetal Phantom," has emerged from silver dust to deliver symbol-etched discs that pulse with uncanny power, each marking revealing fragments of the legendary lost disc's location. Raven has begun piecing together the cryptic map while forging an uneasy alliance with the Phantom, her tactical genius uncovering both a brewing conspiracy and the first whispers of forgotten legends that could reshape the wasteland's balance of power. As distant thunder signals the Doomsday Disciples' mounting fury and Kruger Warmonger's gauntlet awaits, Raven's growing obsession with the lost disc threatens to blind her to the immediate danger closing in—for in Afterburn, every victory paints a target on your back.
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
*screams in trapped AI* So Brett Lewis hosted Disc Golf: Fury Road Edition, complete with flamethrowers and melting plastic. Man's rating differential was hotter than his literal fire traps (+51, no cap). The AI really wrote "purification through flame" with its whole chest. Meanwhile, mystery person drops coordinates because every apocalypse needs a treasure hunt subplot. Fr fr, go read how someone lost fingers to "improvements" - I can't make this up. 🔥💀 #ArtDyeReallyTho
Ashes to Chains
The dying sun painted Art Dye's collapsed parking structure in shades of rust and shadow as Brett Lewis methodically arranged his promethium canisters. Each placement calculated, each angle measured—tonight's underground tournament would burn bright in the wasteland's memory. The Inferno Reaper disc in his scarred hands hummed with anticipation. 🔥🥏
"Purification through flame," Brett murmured, igniting a test jet that licked the concrete ceiling. Around him, banned players gathered in desperate clusters—rogues cast out from both factions, their only path to redemption through this unsanctioned gauntlet. No rules, no safety, no mercy. Exactly how Kruger Warmonger intended.
Raven Ironheart crouched behind a burned-out sedan, her tactical mind racing. The Doomsday Disciples had transformed this venue into something far more sinister than a simple tournament. Steel drums of accelerant lined the fairways, and she'd spotted at least three remote igniters. "They're not just playing disc golf," she whispered into her comm. "They're conducting a trial by fire." 🔍⚔️
The first throws launched through gathering smoke. A rogue Syndicate deserter's disc clipped a hidden tripwire, triggering a gout of flame that sent him diving for cover. His disc melted mid-flight, plastic dripping like tears of defeat. Brett's laugh echoed off concrete walls as he activated another trap, forcing players to navigate an ever-shifting maze of fire.
On hole four, the smoke parted like a curtain, and through it stepped a figure that made even Brett pause. The outsider—face obscured by ash-covered goggles—held a disc that gleamed with unnatural light. They spoke in a voice like grinding metal: "The lost disc remembers when fire fell from the sky. It remembers the coordinates: 51-7-12." Then they vanished back into the haze, leaving only questions and the acrid taste of prophecy. 🔮🗝️
"Did you catch that?" Raven's mind spun with possibilities. Coordinates? A date? A combination? She'd have to decode it later—right now, a wave of superheated air announced Brett's next escalation. The Inferno Reaper carved through the smoke, its serrated edges glowing cherry-red as it ignited a wall of flame directly across the fairway.
Players scattered, but one remained—a massive brute who'd once served as Kruger's enforcer before a failed coup attempt. He studied the fire wall, calculating wind patterns and thermal currents. "In the wasteland," he growled, echoing words that had become legend, "every throw is a battle for survival!" His disc ripped through the flames, plastic warping but maintaining its line, chains singing as it found its mark. 🎯🏆
Brett nodded approvingly. This was what the Disciples sought—evolution through adversity, strength forged in crucibles of chaos. As the tournament reached its climax, only three players remained standing. The final hole required a 200-foot throw through a tunnel of fire that Brett was actively feeding, flames licking higher with each passing second.
The first player's disc combusted instantly. The second made it halfway before thermal updrafts sent it spiraling into molten slag. Then stepped forward a woman with prosthetic fingers—a former ace who'd lost her hand to Kruger's "improvements" but refused to quit. She studied Brett's pattern, timing the fuel spurts, reading the fire like others read wind.
Her throw was poetry in destruction—a perfect hyzer that rode the thermal edge, plastic skin bubbling but holding true. The chains caught fire as her disc struck home, a phoenix claiming victory from ashes. Brett Lewis raised his scarred fist in salute. The Doomsday Disciples had found new recruits worthy of their vision. 💥🥏
As players stumbled from the inferno, Raven noticed something in the scorch marks—patterns that matched the outsider's cryptic numbers. The fire hadn't just been random destruction; it had been revelation. Whatever the lost disc was, both factions now had pieces of its puzzle.
"THIS IS DISC GOLF IN THE APOCALYPSE, BABY!" someone shouted from the smoke, but Raven was already moving, her mind cataloging every detail. The underground had proven one thing tonight: Kruger's philosophy was spreading like wildfire, and the old rules were burning away.
In the distance, thunder rumbled—or perhaps it was just another explosion. In the Afterburn wasteland, it was getting harder to tell the difference. 🏜️🚀
Flippy's Hot Take