Field report 8/xx/14 (the day slips my mind): It is about midday. Little goes on save a whistling breeze that parts the green nuances of the meadows before my post. It could and should be a breeze, that is. If it is anything else I’ll be the slightest worried. Hmm. Disturbing implications. While I shall keep my ears open and pen at the ready just in case the breeze proves yet more worrying, there are no other anomalies to record. The clanking of outriders and my fellow scouts clad more appropriately for unlikely battle is surprisingly rhythmic, I’ve begun to note. The scent of meat clenched firmly in their palms to nibble at as they ride assaults my senses; I can only assume they have partaken of the weekly feast from which I have been fasting in pursuance of my duties to defend and keep watch where I have been ordered.

The sunlight beats upon my shoulders ever so warmly and, as a defensive maneuver to protect myself from the abrasive heat, I find myself curling up by the wayside beneath the shade of a common ash tree as I write. The road less traveled sprawls out before me with no sign of danger (save that suspicious gust of wind) or passerby; I shall simply have to remain astute and diligent, for the cause and sake of all who tread this path and beyond. As I keep a watchful eye on the cobbled muddy road, I take to lying down while keeping my defensive curl—in the event of would-be highwaymen who will to cross swords, but of course. From here I shall retain my staunch vigil, and…

*The rest trails off into unintelligible scribblings*

****

I’ll skip any pretense: I have a ‘sona and, surprisingly enough, it is not a rabbit. Was growing a little weary of hiding behind my own characters without actually having any sort of identity. My cousin whipped this up for me over the past week during which I was visiting distant family, partially to poke fun at me and my favorite ‘mon and I am sorely sorely sorely pleased with it!

The Mannoth is a knightly Zangoose whose tales of might and legendary feats span across the kingdom he serves, at least if those stories are to be believed. To whom he swears fealty as esteemed royal guard is an enigma, to speak nothing of just how much truth to his acclaim there is or who first spun such tales of his bravery and fluffiness. Two things remain certain, however: That the Mannoth occasionally speaks from a person that is not his own (the “third” if his sources are to be believed), and without a doubt there is a solid wall of muscle beneath all that fur. Yes. How else could he fell so many mighty beasts and ironclad villains abroad?

…Let nobody know of his penchant for naps and slumber, however. ‘Tis a crippling weakness no foe of his should be privy to. Most definitely a secret well kept.