Amidst the large ancient trees and the whispering leaves of the forest, a group of adventurers found themselves navigating the dense forest trails. Clad in weathered leather armor and armed with sword, blade forged from battles long fought, they embarked on a journey fueled by the desire of the hidden rich. They had heard the tales of the headless monster that roamed the ancient forest as the locals of Lokka's village called it. Despite the chilling reminder and warnings, their determination to unravel the untold riches drove them deeper into the heart of the forest. Guided by the trail of the forest, the shifting shadows and the occasional rustling of leaves, they ventured where few had dared to tread. As they moved through the forest, they could not shake the feeling of someone, or maybe something was watching them. Every now and then, few of the them caught a glimpse, fleeting yet eerie movement in the corners of their eyes. They move in line formation with each person setting a sentry of vision, calm yet efficient, signifying the experience accumulated over time in travelling into unknown, but there was nothing there, only the echo of branch breaking under their footsteps. Nightfall painted the forest in shades of darkness, unanimously they decided to press on guided by the burning motivation of finding the hidden treasures of the ancient forest, the tomb of the Dark king. It was told that the dark king loves gold so much, the mere path unto his tomb were coated with gold. Though it was dark, the forest comes alive and path glow with soft glow of luminescent fungi that sprawled through the forest. The air filled with the hum of insects and the distant calls of creature that lives in the night. It was majestic, yet an eerie stillness roams the air, broken only by the rustling leaves, and the echo of a distant howl. Then, suddenly, a presence loomed in the dark, a figure that seems to materialize from the very shadows. Their heart raced as it dawns upon them. The legend, the mysteries that looms the forest, the headless entity spoken in a hushed tone now imposingly standing in front of them. Its dark, void of an existence from the neck above, arm with a wooden club, resting upon its broad shoulder, clad in jet-black fur and dark hooves supporting the majestic towering creature, sending a shiver down their spine. Their foot, nailed onto its place, unable to move in the presence of the monster of the ancient forest. But amidst the fear, there was a profound and undeniable sense of awe and wonder. Time seemed to stand still as the adventurers, each one of them readying their weapon but not brandishing it, waiting and regarding their moment, are they able to come back unscathed before challenging this monstrous nightmare. The creature does not seem to show any hostilities and in that moment, they felt it, the connection, their eyes locked with each other, and a small nod was made. They understood the next step they should take, with a silent nod, they stepped back, offering a wordless gratitude towards the guardian of the forest. The headless beast stand proud, unmoved, showing no emotion towards them, as if the adventurers are just a mere ants, then the beast receded into the shadows, its form blending once more with lush dense forest and the adventurer forever changed by the encounter, they should have been dead if they had taken a step more following their motivation. A sense of respect, and a newfound understanding as why the creature was revered by the people of Lokka has filled their hearts and mind. To survive the encounter and lived to tell the tale.
The whispers of leaves and gentle breeze of the forest serves as a song that soothes my soul, I wander aimlessly, through the forest stray away from the path and I felt a sense of disturbance, a presence that does not belong to this place. Though with no head, I have heightened sense of awareness, and I draw closer to the source- a group of adventurers, wading their way under the veil of night. They stand before me, an assembly of warriors, clad in weathered armor and eyes fills with conviction. What do they seek? As I emerged from the shadows, their stance frozen in place, their grip tightens on the hilt of their sword, yet their stance is not of aggression, but of readiness. A product of their experience. I gaze upon them, my senses attuned to their mana enveloping their- body, a steady, sometimes flickering with fear and doubt yet unwavering. I feel the pulses of curiosity, fear and silent acknowledgment of my existence. I was once killed by an adventurer. However, I do not feel any shred of animosity towards them, it is as if their existence does not command my attention. A mere pebble on the side of the road. The adventurers exchange look with each other. As they observe my imposing form, I cannot help but feel how I was. I once knew the helpless feeling, the simplicity of avoiding danger just for a day of living. Now I supposed I am something more, the embodiment of both fear and reverence. One of the adventurers lowered his head before me, and steps back ever carefully, a silent declaration that they do not seek violences and to forgive their trespassing. I hold my ground, waiting for the next step they take. As they stepping back, I acknowledged the gestures and slips away in the shadows, observing them retracing their steps from whence they came. This power, awe and respect that I now received, now I wonder how will I fare in battle, for while I now have this form, I am yet to have any experiences in combat, as I was a mere slime in my past live. Why do I receive this chance? What does the Higher One has plan for me? In the quiet of the night, I am more aware of my physique, though with no eyes, I can 'see' everything. My hand and arm are similar to human, with 3 fingers on each arm. I have a muscular physique covered with fur so black that I can blend perfectly in the shadows of darkness. The dark hooves of mine supports my weight easily. In this moment of silent observation, I am aware of the duality of my existence- a headless creature that observes his own form. Then I observe the wooden club, that I suppose is the weapon that I wield. It is made of a dead willow tree, it has darkened with age, the surface has been etched with countless scars of forgotten battle. Does this form used to have soul before me? And this place, this forest does not seem to be the same forest I used to roam when I was a slime. As I roamed freely in this ancient forest, I stumbled upon somber monolith, a desolate and time-worn landscape. Buried beneath layers of vine and dead leaves. A lone entrance to a tomb. It is weathered by centuries of exposure to the elements. Carved with stone, mixed with a glitter of gold, it looms with austere, imposing presence. Moss and vines have claimed their territory, softening the harsh edges of the stone façade. The entrance is a massive stone doorway adorned with intricate carvings made of gold that tells stories of the past. These symbols and rune, etched by hands of a master that has long turned to dust, speak of a forgotten king and his glory. As I crossed upon the threshold, the tomb reveals a dimly lit corridor that stretches deeper in the earth. Cold, damp air permeates the passageway, carrying with it the scent of ancient stone and the lingering whispers of soul long forgotten. The walls are lined with ornate stone. Torches mounted on the walls, seemingly cast by magic, cast a flickering, dancing shadows, adding an eerie ambiance to the corridor. As one progresses further into the tomb, the passageway opens into a central chamber, a vast and echoing space filled with gold. A massive stone sarcophagus, adorned with intricate carvings and inlaid with gold, lies dormant in command in the center of the room. The final resting place of a king. The ceiling soars overhead, supported by imposing stone pillars, their surface adorned with ancient rune. The tombs exude an air of solemnity and reverence, as if time itself pauses within its hallowed confines. The silence is deafening, broken only by the gush of wind or occasional echo of a distant drip of water. I wonder to whom this tomb belongs. It feels home, as if I was made to guard this place. Out of nowhere, a whisper, calls to me.
"Young one, so the higher One has sent me another guardian!"
My senses attuned to a speck of energy, a wraith.
"Your form looks glorious, but I can sense that you do not know who you are."
The wraith, lacking of substance and solidity, swirls in the air with a faint blue light. His face are of an old man, with crown adorned on his head.
"Do you know who I am, young one?"
The wraith asks me question, and I shrugged.
"Ah! I see you do not speak, well of course you don't, you don't have a head. HA HA HA HA"
The wraith let out an eerie laugh, it echoes loudly, through nook and cranny of the central room.
"Approach me, young one, let me gaze upon you."
I step closer. The wraith swirls around me, his hand rest on his chin as if he was studying a statue of art.
"Magnificent, it seems you were just born recently, yes? You may have the makings of excellent guardian. Alas, you do not have any experiences I assume. The higher One tends to play with its creation. The last one, though it form are the same as you, it does not have intelligence, a rock, a stupid boulder would have made better guardian than him"
He scoffs.
"Yet, it has outstanding strength, brute strength that it has was enough to guard this place for centuries, I have not seen anyone that manages to defeat him, its body are full with battle scars and wounds, as many knights and adventurers wish to get their hand on my treasure, MY GOLD!!"
The wraith suddenly let out a fit of rage. His blue light changed into red as he fuming. He flies around the central room, mumbling in anger and goes into the sarcophagus in the center of the room. Silence ensues and he was gone. I wonder why he got so angry.