|The Legend of The Green Guardian
Author: The Folk Extraction PM
For centuries he has guarded the land that seperates the living from the dead, but the ages have weakened him. Now war is brewing and he must search for the one who is to replace him, unaware that his successor is already searching for him.Rated: Fiction T - English - Adventure/Supernatural - Chapters: 32 - Words: 42,072 - Reviews: 117 - Favs: 14 - Follows: 15 - Updated: 10-30-12 - Published: 01-10-11 - id: 2880937
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Bayond aine pale thin veil
Lies a land thast graye and grime
Like a willy bog of soggy marsh
Thast long since lost its time
This is his barren kingdom
An aine foothills are his throne
His lands aire vaste and empty
And he rules them all alone
Aye, he who slain the daemon king
And worn his taeth for sport
He hast given chase to wyverines
When alst all would abort
He hast made the faeble minded flae
And dined fine fodes with death
And the guardian will langer on
Teel he drawes his final braeth
And forever, from the dawn of time
To the ending of all man
Will he pace aine land of inbetwaen
Where the water maets the sand
Knowing he will always be
One step from the beyond
Man, oh man, will always die
But The Guardian lives on
The Legend of The Green Guardian
In the gray mists of The Inbetween, the hounds gathered around their master for their morning ritual. They watched him intently, every so often running ahead only to stop and look back to make sure he was following. Yes, he had walked this flat stretch of land over a hundred thousand times to uphold his duties, but he did not walk as straight or as tall as he used to, and the lantern he carried did not shine as bright as it had in times passed. The hounds watched him as though they worried that he might fade into the fog and disappear.
"Come along, Rami, Thorin, mustn't lag behind the pack." His voice was rough, scarred by the ages, but it commanded their attention in the same way an army general commands his troops. His own army was a drooling, hairy lot, but they served their purpose well. Namely, they kept things out.
The two stragglers wagged their tails at the sound of his voice, but instead of running to join the rest they wandered away even further. It was curious behavior. Their master paused to wait for them, but it was as though they had stumbled upon something interesting. And in a land where all was always the same, interesting was concerning.
One of the hounds let out a low howl and several pointy ears perked in it's direction. Their master was left standing by himself in the short, dewy grass while the pack abandoned his side to answer the call. He drew in a breath, listening to the growing urgent whines of his company, begging for attention. It was a long time since something had last interrupted his daily rounds and he found himself reluctant to see to it.
Something heavy in the air today, he mused. Something ominous.
He took a step toward the dogs and felt the grass shiver beneath his bare feet. Cold and wet and fearful. The ground carried memories of something dark roaming over it's surface, something that slithered and twisted and infected. He felt a little ill just standing there in the same place that this vile creature had crawled over in it's flight across The Inbetween.
The dogs continued to whine, so he went to them with a dreaded knowledge of what he would find. Sure enough, the limp form was visible even under all the wet noses that nudged it mournfully.
"Out of the way, go on, move!" He had to push some of them way to reach the dead hound. He knelt next to it and touched it's muzzle, which was as cold as, well, a corpse. It was not just dead, but long dead. A very bad sign.
"Maxim," he murmured as he respectfully closed the hound's eyes, "I've failed you." He had failed more than just a dog if his suspicions were correct. The murder was proof enough that something had managed to slither it's way through the mist. Proof that his senses were beginning to fail him if he had been so blind to the threat. Proof that there was something in the making on the other side. And he very much wished that it was not something he would be expected to deal with.
"Fate have mercy," he said as he stood and winced at the pain in his back as he did so, "not this again."
As if on cue, the pack of hounds all sat at once. They turned their heads upward to face the gray abyss that bordered the land of eternity, and howled their lonesome song into the still morning air.
(A/N: There be your intro to this great story of adventure, revenge, heartache and a lot of things that, in hindsight, were probably not such a great idea. Let me know what you think of it.)