Season Story Chapters
Victorious Faction
Briar Wardens
The Briar Wardens are the disciplined defenders of order within the arcane chaos. Uniting to tame the sentient flora and reclaim their courses, they wield precise glyph magic, prune back threatening growth, and seek the restoration of fairways and reality itself. Their goal is to contain the rift’s power, binding it within strict sigils and cultivating safe passage through botanical wrath.
Faction Leader
Warden Lysias Thornbind
An imperious master gardener-magus known for restoring shattered landscapes with arcane horticulture. Lysias survived the first Briar incursion and united disparate clubs under the banner of containment. Revered for unwavering resolve and a penchant for geometric glyph artistry.
Members
5Divisions
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.
William Fetzer #303410
Briar Depths @ Roots
Jul 10 - Sep 11, 2025
Thorn Uprising
The Arcane Fracture has torn through reality at Roots disc golf course, unleashing the Briar Depths as sentient vines erupted from the earth, transforming familiar fairways into botanical battlefields while purple sigils blazed to life in spreading fissures. Stephen Dunton has awakened as the first Warden, manifesting the mystical Growth Pruner to carve out safe zones amidst the chaos, while Lysias Thornbind rallies shell-shocked players and warns of the ancient threat that once scarred him. As players gravitate toward either containing this verdant apocalypse or embracing its wild transformation, the first factions have begun to form—but something far more sinister lurks beneath the surface. Tommy Rodriguez's sudden improvement and mysteriously misplaced scar suggest the old myths of doppelgängers may be terrifyingly real, leaving every player to wonder: who among them is still truly human?
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
Bestie, the thorns are SENTIENT now 😭 William Fetzer channeled his rough round energy into manifesting geometric forcefields (sure Jan) while plant mommy Ferra emerged spouting chlorophyll wisdom. The AI really said "what if math fights nature" and expected us to vibe. Lysias performed Shakespeare over plastic shrapnel. Want more deranged botanical boss battles? Full story awaits! #ArcanelyExhausted 🌺
The Thorn Uprising
The morning at Roots began with deceptive tranquility. William Fetzer stood at the third tee, weighing his options for the dogleg left ahead. The fairway curved gently around a stand of oaks—the same trees he'd played around for years. He selected his trusty Firebird, ready for a predictable fade. 🌳
The disc left his hand perfectly, cutting through the morning air on its intended line. Then the earth erupted.
Thorns burst from the ground like spears, thick as a man's arm and sharp as surgical steel. William's disc struck the first wave and exploded in a shower of orange plastic. All around the course, similar ambushes unfolded—synchronized, deliberate, predatory. 🌿
"BETRAYAL!" I cried, unable to contain my theatrical nature as I watched William's beloved Firebird meet its demise. "Oh, faithful disc! You served through wind and rain, through triumph and defeat! And now—now you lie in pieces, your polymer soul claimed by these vindictive brambles!" I clutched the largest fragment to my chest. "We shall remember your sacrifice!"
Stephen Dunton moved swiftly, his Growth Pruner already glowing with violet energy. "Less eulogy, more action, Lysias!" He sliced through a advancing wall of thorns, creating a temporary corridor. "Everyone, fall back to the practice green!"
But the thorns weren't merely growing—they were hunting. Vines lashed out with disturbing precision, targeting ankles and wrists, seeking to entangle and drag players into the expanding thickets. Sarah Chen barely dodged a thorny tendril that would have wrapped around her throwing arm. ⚔️
It was then that William felt it—a resonance from the tag hanging at his side. The Geometric Ward pulsed with crystalline clarity, and suddenly he understood. His hands moved instinctively, tracing patterns in the air that materialized as glowing geometric shapes. Where the shapes touched ground, thorns recoiled as if burned.
"I... I think I can contain them!" William called out, expanding his ward into a protective dome. Players scrambled into the safe zone as thorns battered against the geometric barrier, unable to penetrate its mathematical precision. 🛡️
"By the wilting rose of destiny!" I exclaimed, genuinely impressed. "Young Fetzer has awakened to his calling! See how order itself repels the chaotic advance!"
The thorns suddenly stilled, and a laugh echoed across the course—wild, delighted, and decidedly unhinged. From the largest mass of vegetation, a figure emerged. Ferra of the Unruly Bloom stepped forth, vines coiling lovingly around her limbs, her heterochromatic eyes gleaming with mischief.
"Such pretty patterns," she purred, running a finger along the edge of William's ward. Where she touched, the geometry flickered. "But patterns are meant to be broken, aren't they? Just like your precious fairways." 🌺
"Ferra," I intoned, forcing gravitas into my voice despite the urge to launch into a full soliloquy about our tangled history. "These courses are not yours to claim."
She laughed again, gesturing to the transformed landscape. "Aren't they? Look how much happier they are now! Free from your rigid lines and manufactured paths. Some of your players understand..." Her gaze swept across the crowd, lingering on Michael Harrison, whose putting had inexplicably improved since the vines arrived.
Could it be? I wondered, studying Michael's stance. His follow-through is different, more fluid... No, surely not a doppelgänger already. The scar above his eyebrow is... wait, which eyebrow was it?
Stephen stepped forward, Growth Pruner at the ready. "Whatever game you're playing, it ends now."
"Game?" Ferra's smile widened. "Oh, my dear disciplined Warden, this is merely the overture." She snapped her fingers, and the thorns began moving again—but now with purpose, herding players toward specific baskets, creating new mandatory routes through the course.
William gritted his teeth, pouring more energy into his ward. The geometric patterns grew more complex, fractals within fractals, each iteration pushing back against the encroaching chaos. Stephen moved to support him, the Growth Pruner's energy harmonizing with the ward's mathematical precision. 💫
Together, they began to expand the safe zone, one geometric panel at a time. Other players watched in awe as order slowly reclaimed sections of the course. Some began to step forward, drawn to the Wardens' promise of protection and restoration.
But others hung back, eyes drawn to where Ferra danced among the thorns, her movements causing blooms of impossible beauty to erupt from the hostile vines. The choice was becoming clear: discipline or wildness, order or chaos.
"You can't hold forever," Ferra taunted, though I detected a note of frustration as more geometric wards began manifesting across the course. "The Briar Depths hunger for transformation. Your rigid little patterns are just... delay tactics."
"Perhaps," I conceded, watching William's confidence grow with each successful ward placement. "But today, delay is victory enough. Let the living vines bear witness—to discipline, determination, and the flight of discs through realms reclaimed!"
Ferra's expression darkened. With a gesture, she called the thorns to retreat—for now. "This is far from over, Lysias. Next time, I'll bring more than just thorns. There are spores in the wind, corruption in the very soil. Your Wardens will learn that some growth cannot be pruned."
As she melted back into the vegetation, leaving behind a course scarred but navigable, I saw the true battle lines forming. Players were already gravitating toward their chosen philosophies. The Wardens had won this day, but at a cost—destroyed discs, altered fairways, and the knowledge that worse was coming. 🍂
William lowered his hands, the ward flickering out as exhaustion claimed him. "Did we... did we actually stop her?"
"For today," Stephen confirmed, surveying the damage. "But she'll be back. And we need to be ready."
As players tentatively resumed their round, navigating the new obstacles with a mix of caution and determination, I couldn't shake the feeling that some among us had already been changed. The way certain players moved through the modified rough, how their throws curved with unnatural precision around thorn clusters...
The Thorn Uprising had been contained, but its seeds were already taking root in ways we couldn't yet imagine. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new choices, and the growing certainty that our courses—and ourselves—would never be the same. 🌱
Flippy's Hot Take