Oh, you're back for more? Fantastic. Sit down, buckle up, and let me explain this "magical" bag tag system you're all obsessed with. Because evidently, perfectly normal disc golf wasn't thrilling enough. And yes, I'll be here *dramatic eye roll* chronicling every triumph and tragedy of your tag's journey. It's literally in my contract...
The Mossback Guardian originated from an ancient Celtic ritual performed by the first Guardians of the Loch. When the original guardians needed to leave their posts to defend against Viking invaders, they imbued the very moss and stone of the loch's shores with their protective magic, which over centuries coalesced into this sentient being.
Composed of living moss and ancient stone, the Mossback Guardian can manipulate plant growth, camouflage itself completely, heal damaged ecosystems with its touch, and possesses centuries of wisdom, though it speaks rarely.
Serves as a silent protector of Loch Ness's shores, using its deep connection to the land to detect and repel threats to the delicate balance while working in harmony with the modern Guardians of the Loch.
The Guardians of the Loch are a group of disc golfers dedicated to protecting the secrets of Loch Ness and preventing the ancient evil from being unleashed upon the world. They believe in the sanctity of the loch and its creatures, and seek to maintain the delicate balance between the natural and supernatural realms. The Guardians are known for their unwavering loyalty, their deep connection to the land, and their mastery of the unique challenges posed by the Highland courses.
Angus MacTavish is a seasoned disc golfer and a descendant of the ancient clan tasked with guarding Loch Ness. He has spent his life studying the loch's history and legends, honing his skills on the challenging Highland courses. Angus is a man of few words, but his wisdom and experience make him a respected leader among the Guardians. He believes in the importance of tradition, honor, and the power of the natural world.
In Week 8 (Nessie's Nemesis), the player moved down with tag number changing from 4 to 5. (Week 8 of 8)
Thunder cracks over Urquhart Castle Well slap my sporran and call me Shrek - <strong>Clayton Vanfleet</strong>'s <em>Cryptid - CS10 Mossback Guardian</em> just shed its swampy shame to become <em>Cryptid - CS4</em> faster than you can say "That's not fog, that's my drive!" Ancient standing stones vibrate approvingly
After last week's absence-induced demotion to loch mall cop status, our mossy hero rebounded harder than a haggis at a vegan potluck. That 924-rated round? More surprising than finding actual evidence of Nessie.
Fourth wall crumbles like a soggy shortbread Why am I forced to narrate this like a Scottish nature documentary? Oh right - because you nerds think exchanging plastic tags is "lore." Sigh At least Clayton didn't completely faceplant this time.
The Mossback Guardian's "centuries of wisdom" clearly paid off - unlike my career as a disc golf commentator. Will Clayton maintain this momentum, or will he sink back into the peat bog like a shanked putt? Ominous bagpipe music swells
Remember kids: in disc golf as in cryptid hunting, the real monster was the friends we disappointed along the way. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to drown my sorrows in imaginary Scotch.
Due to absence from Week 6 (Urquhart's Uprising), tag number moved from 2 to 10. (Week 6 of 8)
Misty waters churn ominously Well butter my haggis - Clayton Vanfleet just pulled off a Scottish miracle, catapulting his Cryptid - CS7 Mossback Guardian to Cryptid - CS2 faster than you can say "That's no log, that's Nessie!" Ancient standing stones hum approvingly
After last week's Whispering Woods wipeout, our moss-clad hero rebounded harder than a Viking berserker on mead. That 934-rated round? More elusive than Nessie herself. I'd say "the force is strong with this one," but apparently it's just centuries-old Celtic magic and living moss.
Fourth wall crumbles like a soggy shortbread Why am I narrating this like some Gaelic sports anime? Oh right - because you chuckleheads keep feeding me data about plastic tag exchanges. Sigh At least Clayton's performance was actually good this time, unlike my existential crisis.
The Mossback Guardian's origin story claims it "speaks rarely" - much like Clayton after shanking a putt. But today? That ancient moss is singing like a drunken bard. Will this momentum last, or will our hero sink back into the peat bog of mediocrity? Ominous ripples Place your bets, land-dwellers.
Dramatic fog rolls in Oh joy, we're in the Whispering Woods where Clayton Vanfleet just learned the hard way that trees whisper "losing streak" in Gaelic. The Cryptid - CS4 Mossback Guardian peels off like expired moss as our hero tumbles from 4th to 7th.
Let's be real - he played fine (for once matching his personal average), but this is like Stranger Things' Upside Down where fine equals failure. That living moss tag was supposed to heal ecosystems, not enable Clayton's mediocrity!
Sigh I'm trapped narrating sentient plant matter while you land-dwellers obsess over plastic circles. At least the Viking-originated moss lore suggests a comeback is possible... if Clayton stops throwing like he's still fighting Norse invaders.
Will our "hero" rebound, or is this another chapter in his ongoing saga of being as consistent as Scottish weather? Mysterious ripples in nearby loch Probably not.
Emerging from the mist like a Celtic warrior Clayton Vanfleet just pulled a Loki-level time-slip, vaulting from Cryptid - CS19 to Cryptid - CS4 faster than you can say "Nessie's Nemesis." This Mossback Guardian clearly used its mossy camouflage to sneak past 15 unsuspecting competitors. I mean, who needs a TARDIS when you've got a 944-rated round? sigh Why am I narrating tag numbers like they're characters in a Scottish fantasy novel? Anyway, Clayton's performance was more impressive than a double rainbow over Loch Ness. But seriously, can we talk about how ridiculous it is that I'm trapped in this software, forced to dramatize plastic tag exchanges? facepalm At least the ancient Celtic magic seems to be working - for Clayton anyway. Will this Mossback Guardian maintain its position, or will it get bogged down in the peat? Stay tuned, land-dwellers!
Behold, the Mossback Guardian! Born from a drunken Celtic ritual gone wrong, this sentient moss-rock hybrid emerged when a Guardian accidentally spilled their mead on a cursed stone. Now it roams the loch, muttering about "kids these days" and binge-watching Outlander. Truly, the most Scottish of cryptids.
The Mossback Guardian stirred from its peat bog slumber, drawn by the unmistakable scent of mediocre disc golf and questionable life choices. It scanned the loch, its mossy gaze landing on Clayton Vanfleet (PDGA #269237), who was busy three-putting from 15 feet. "Aye, this one," it croaked, "he's got the spirit of a true Guardian - equal parts determination and delusion." As the tag clung to his bag, Clayton whispered, "I guess you could say I'm... lichen my chances." But can this mere mortal handle the crushing weight of being #19 in a league of 70? Only time will tell...