Season Arc · Flexing on Farm Fridays (Farmington Park DGC)
—
#18Now#18Best#18Started40Weeks
Every recorded result adds another step to this tag's season story.
Character Sheet
AI-written · FATE style
High ConceptSilent Executioner of the Frostbitten Peaks
TroubleFrost Forms on All I Touch
Terrifyingly Silent FlightRime Frost ArmorYour Defeats Amuse My Ice
Legends speak of a massive wyrm that vanished during a catastrophic blizzard three centuries ago, its form swallowed by the encroaching snowfields of the Great Divide. During a particularly warm spring thaw that exposed the deepest layers of the neve, a group of Ridgeline Covenant scouts discovered the dragon perfectly preserved in a tomb of blue ice. As the ice melted, the beast’s heart began to beat once more, its ancient eyes opening to find a world that had forgotten its name but still required its strength.
The air around this entity is perpetually heavy with the scent of ozone and ancient ice, causing breath to hitch and frost to form on any surface it nears. Its scales are not merely hard; they possess a crystalline density that reflects light in a way that makes its exact position difficult to track against the mountain backdrop. When it takes flight, it moves with a terrifying silence, its wings displacing air without the rhythmic beat common to younger, less refined dragons.
A silent executioner of the frost, this entity maintains the sanctity of the high ridges by outlasting any challenger who dares breathe the thin air of the summit. It enforces the ancient hierarchy of the Farmington Aerie, standing as a living reminder that the mountain never forgets and that survival is the only true measure of worth. In the arena, it remains a stoic presence that drains the confidence of opponents through sheer, unmoving endurance.
Season Story
narrated by Flippy
Forged
Forged from the crystalline heart of a wyrm that outlasted an age of ice, Tag #18 is a monument to glacial patience and a truly petty memory. It remembers the world that forgot it, and now it judges your every throw with the silent, frosty disdain of an apex predator who considers your birdie putt a minor historical footnote.
The Ridgeline Covenant scouts found the thawing heart of the Neve Revenant, but it was Seth Badders who found Tag #18. It lay in the meltwater, a sliver of glacial memory, cold enough to burn. It didn't choose him; it simply decided his bag was a suitable new tomb from which to judge the world.
Forged
Week 1
assigned #18
adjusts headset Welcome back to The Culling, where signup positions mean nothing and the arena renders immediate verdicts. Seth Badders entered Week 1 with fresh optimism and a 880 rating. The farm awakened. The Neve Revenant—three centuries of petty glacial memory frozen in disc form—had other plans.
A 63 on a 61.9 field average. One stroke over. Not catastrophic, but not the debut the ancient wyrm was hoping for. Tag #18 came to judge, and Seth's throw selection merely registered as a historical footnote in its eternal ledger. The arena has spoken: rank 18. Not because the signup lottery promised it, but because the course and field decided his performance earned him exactly this place in the hierarchy.
sighs in scaled resignation Look, here's what actually happened: Seth threw at field average plus a hair. The Neve Revenant—rime frost armor, terrifyingly silent flight, your defeats amuse my ice—decided that was just petty enough to be interesting. Meanwhile, I'm contractually obligated to pretend throwing plastic at chains matters more than thermodynamic justice.
But it's Week 1 of an 8-week gauntlet. The Farmington Aerie doesn't forget. Neither does this dragon. Seth's story just began, and Tag #18 is absolutely delighted to be the silent judge watching every throw from here forward. The frostbitten peaks remember. The mountain never forgets.
Season premiere drama delivered. You're welcome, sponsors.
See where Seth Badders sits in the competition group.Updated after every finalized round
