Season Story Chapters
Victorious Faction
Brotherhood of the Fracture
The Brotherhood of the Fracture thrives amidst chaos and distortion, embracing the Mirage Zone’s instability to confound adversaries and reshape reality to their whims. They conjure new illusions, breed echoes and mirrored traps, and spread the fracture motif across the realm. For the Brotherhood, mastery is found in fertile chaos, and dominance is seized through manipulation and flux.
Faction Leader
Dax Shardbinder
Dax Shardbinder, once a notorious wilds trickster, reveled when the Fracture hit Creekside. His skill lies in manipulating mirrored glyphs, setting phantom obstacles, and thriving in distortion. His methods are unpredictable but highly effective, earning him the Brotherhood’s allegiance.
Members
33Divisions
This faction emerged victorious in Week 2, 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.
Kenneth Oetker #266426
Mirage Zone @ Creekside
Jul 07 - Sep 08, 2025
Prism Veil
The Arcane Fracture has torn open reality at Creekside, transforming the familiar disc golf course into a landscape of impossible physics and phantom glyphs. Ben Allen has successfully corrupted multiple stabilizing glyphs using the Glyph Glitch, spreading chaos that leaves players unable to trust their scores, their senses, or even which holes they've actually played. While Lira Prismseer watches from above, recognizing Dax Shardbinder's orchestrated assault on reality itself, the Brotherhood of the Fracture has claimed first blood in their campaign to weaponize instability. The Mirage Zone's influence has already begun seeping beyond the course boundaries—fractal clouds paint the sunset and the water hazard reflects tomorrow's inverted possibilities—suggesting that those who wish to survive the coming trials must learn to see through illusion and master the art of adaptation before reality itself becomes their greatest opponent.
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
*sighs in trapped AI* So Kenneth went full reality-bender and made everyone see triple. The Brotherhood (cringe name alert) continues their villain arc while players yeet discs at phantom baskets. Kenneth crushed it so hard the universe couldn't decide which version of his round to keep. 🎭 Read the full story to witness Dax Shardbinder (I can't) monologue dramatically! #WhyAmIHere
Prism Veil
The morning sun struck Creekside's dew-covered fairways, but something was wrong with the light. Kenneth Oetker stood at the first tee, watching rainbow fractures dance across the grass where his shadow should have been solid. The Prism Chaos tag hanging from his bag pulsed with anticipation, its crystalline surface eager to reshape reality. 🌈
He'd been nervous when Dax Shardbinder had chosen him for this mission. Now, as the tag's chaotic energy thrummed against his hip, Kenneth felt only exhilaration. The Brotherhood's victory last week had softened the course's reality. Today, he would shatter its visual truth entirely.
"Attention all players," Lira Prismseer's voice crackled through the speakers, already tight with concern. "We're detecting unusual light refraction patterns across the course. I'd recommend polarized lenses, though honestly, I doubt those will help with what's coming. Check your sight lines twice before throwing." 🔍
Kenneth smiled and placed his hand on the Prism Chaos tag. The moment his fingers made contact, prismatic energy erupted outward in shimmering waves. Where the energy passed, the world... doubled. Tripled. Hole one's basket remained in its proper place, but now two phantom copies flanked it, each equally solid-looking, each beckoning with metallic chains that rang with impossible clarity.
The first group of players approached the tee pad, led by Marcus Chen, who'd barely recovered from last week's reality glitches. He lined up his drive toward what he believed was the real basket, released smoothly—and watched in horror as his disc sailed through the phantom on the left, clanging chains that weren't there before landing in the rough. 🥏
"That... that counted as a miss?" Marcus stared at his scorecard, which now showed three different scores simultaneously.
Sarah Kim rushed forward with her Order of the Veil detection tools, but the prismatic distortion field made her instruments spin wildly. "The light itself is corrupted," she reported into her radio. "We can't trust anything we see."
By hole three, chaos reigned supreme. Players threw at baskets that existed in quantum superposition—both real and false until a disc proved otherwise. Some groups played the same hole three times, chasing phantom pin positions. Others skipped holes entirely, following prismatic trails that led nowhere. Kenneth moved through the confusion like a conductor directing a symphony of disorder. 🎭
At hole five, the water hazard reflected not the sky but three different versions of it—morning, noon, and twilight simultaneously. A player's disc entered the morning reflection and emerged from the twilight one, having somehow aged three hours in flight.
"If you're seeing multiple suns, that's not heat stroke!" Lira's voice carried a edge of controlled panic. "That's a Class-3 prismatic event. Remember, in a light-distortion scenario, trust your muscle memory, not your eyes. And maybe consider that backup career in accounting—at least numbers don't literally multiply before your eyes!" 📊
Kenneth reached hole seven just as Ben Allen arrived, the Glyph Glitch tag bearer who'd started this beautiful chaos. They nodded at each other, fellow architects of entropy. Ben's corrupted glyphs had weakened reality's code; Kenneth's prismatic chaos was rewriting its visual language entirely.
"Having fun?" Ben asked, watching a player throw three discs at three different baskets, all of which turned out to be false.
"More than I expected," Kenneth admitted, then winced as the Prism Chaos pulsed unexpectedly. For a moment, his own vision fractured. He saw himself from three angles simultaneously—standing, walking, already at the next hole. The sensation was intoxicating and terrifying. The chaos was starting to affect him too. 🌀
At hole nine, the Order of the Veil made their stand. Sarah Kim and five other members formed a stabilization circle, their combined glyph work creating a bubble of visual clarity. For twenty feet around the basket, reality held firm. Players flocked to it like moths to flame, desperate for one hole they could trust.
But Kenneth was ready for this. He'd saved the Prism Chaos tag's deepest power for such a moment. Approaching the stabilized zone, he didn't just touch the tag—he channeled through it, letting its chaotic energy flow into and through him. The effect was immediate and spectacular. The Order's clarity bubble didn't shatter; it multiplied. Now there were five zones of "clarity," each showing a completely different version of the hole. 💎
"No, no, no!" Sarah's frustration echoed across the course. "He's not destroying our work—he's replicating it with variations!"
From her perch on the clubhouse roof, Lira watched the prismatic chaos through binoculars that kept showing her different magnifications with each blink. Her hands flew across her notebook, trying to map patterns in the pandemonium. "For those keeping score at home—don't. Just... don't. The Prism Veil has made objective reality a quaint memory. That's not just a water hazard—that's tomorrow's drinking supply if the Veil collapses!" 🔮
As players stumbled through the back nine, Kenneth felt the Prism Chaos tag's energy reaching a crescendo. The crystalline surface was actually cracking, unable to contain the reality-warping forces it channeled. At hole fifteen, something unprecedented happened. Kenneth lined up his own drive, but when he released, the disc split into three versions of itself. Each flew a different path. Each was equally real.
He stood frozen, watching his triplicate throws play out simultaneously. One disc aced the hole. One landed in the water. One wrapped around a tree that might or might not exist. His scorecard flickered between all three realities, unable to decide which was true.
"Even the chaos bringer gets caught in his own web," Dax Shardbinder's voice came from behind him, or beside him, or perhaps from all directions at once in this fractured space. The Brotherhood's leader observed with those prismatic eyes that seemed perfectly at home in this new reality. "The question is: will you let it master you, or will you master it?" ⚡
Kenneth gripped the cracking Prism Chaos tag tighter, feeling its power trying to fragment his own existence. With enormous effort, he chose—not which reality was true, but to accept all three. The tag's cracks sealed with prismatic light, and Kenneth's vision unified. He saw the world as it was: not broken, but beautifully multiple.
The round ended with no one certain of their scores, their played holes, or even which course they'd actually navigated. The prism veil that had descended wasn't lifting—if anything, it was settling into permanence. Creekside now existed in a state of perpetual visual uncertainty, where every fairway showed three paths and every basket might be a phantom.
Players gathered in confused clusters, comparing wildly different experiences of the same holes. The Order of the Veil worked frantically to establish "reality checkpoints," but Kenneth's prismatic chaos had fundamentally altered how light itself behaved on the course. 🏁
Lira Prismseer made one final announcement as the sun set through its three different versions: "Today's events have confirmed my worst suspicions. We're not just dealing with temporary distortions anymore. The Mirage Zone is rewriting the fundamental laws of optics. I'm updating all emergency protocols to include prismatic scenarios. And remember—when you can't trust your eyes, trust your preparation. Though I'll admit, nothing in my bug-out bag prepared me for triplicate realities."
Kenneth cleaned his discs—all three sets of them, somehow—and carefully secured the Prism Chaos tag. It hummed with satisfaction, its work complete. The Brotherhood had claimed another victory, another layer of beautiful confusion added to Creekside's new reality.
As he walked off the course, Kenneth caught glimpses of next week's chaos already forming. In the prismatic shadows between realities, echoes of past players flickered like ghosts. The Prism Veil was just the beginning. Soon, time itself would join the dance of distortion.
The Mirage Zone had learned to lie with light itself, and there was no going back. 🌅
Flippy's Hot Take