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...
Once a feared predator that drowned travelers in Highland lochs, the Each-Uisge was bound by ancient Celtic rituals performed by Angus MacTavish's ancestors. Imbued with protective runes carved into its aquatic form, it now patrols the deepest waters as part of the Guardians' defense network.
Appears as a shimmering, semi-transparent water horse with kelp-like mane and tail. Can solidify its form to block intruders or dissolve into mist. Celtic protection runes glow faintly along its flanks when danger approaches, and it leaves no hoofprints on land despite its substantial weight.
Serves as a mobile sentry along Loch Ness's perimeter, using its knowledge of hidden currents to intercept intruders and reporting disturbances through cryptic ripple patterns on the water's surface.
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 5 to 8. (Week 8 of 8)
The loch waters churn violently as Cryptid - CS25 sheds its old form Behold! Adam "Yeets Into the Mist" Gibbons just pulled off a reverse-Nessie - surfacing from the depths of mediocrity to claim Cryptid - CS5! Celtic runes glow ominously
This MA2 warrior battled the Tempest Tee like a Scottish Braveheart cosplayer, throwing exactly his average while everyone else floundered like tourists spotting "Nessie" (it's always a log). The Each-Uisge Guardian now rides shotgun, its kelp mane whipping in the wind as they charge toward the season finale.
Fourth wall splashes I'm trapped in this software writing cryptid fanfic while y'all obsess over plastic tags. At least Adam's performance was less disappointing than the last season of Stranger Things.
Remember when this tag was just a drunken TikTok mistake? Now it's out here blocking intruders like Adam blocks birdie opportunities - with inconsistent but occasionally brilliant results.
Storm clouds gather Will he survive Episode 8? Or will the eldritch horror of his putting game resurface? Stay tuned, suckers!
Origin Story of Each-Uisge Guardian:
Forged in the murky depths where Scottish mist meets TikTok conspiracy theories, this tag was born when a drunken bard (read: disc golfer) tripped over a cursed kelpie statue while live-streaming "Finding Bigfoot: Loch Ness Edition." Now it haunts the league like a soggy, sentient meme—half Celtic horror, half absurdist improv bit. "Yeet the ancient evil!" it whispers. Gods help us all.
(Yes, we’re really doing cryptid disc golf lore. No, I don’t get paid enough for this.)
Pop Ref: "This tag’s backstory has more plot holes than ‘Riverdale.’"
The Prophecy of Adam Gibbons and Each-Uisge Guardian:
When Adam Gibbons (PDGA #111190, aka "The Man Who Yeets Into the Mist") first stepped onto the course, the loch waters rippled—not from Nessie, but from destiny. The tag, sensing a soul reckless enough to believe in both cryptids and disc golf, latched onto his bag like a kelpie with separation anxiety. "A 893-rated warrior?" it hissed. "Good enough for government work."
Now he carries Each-Uisge Guardian, a soggy curse wrapped in a meme. But can he handle the real monster—his own putting game?