[ IP ] Sentinals

The Wanderer, he had no other name that he was aware of, cautiously unslung his bow from across his shoulder. There was something strange about this place. He felt as if unseen watchers were peering at him from the corners of his vision. He reached into his bristling quiver and nocked an arrow, ready to draw, aim and fire in one swift motion. 
 
 He had come here not out of some petty desire for treasure or adventure. He had been *called* here. He did not know how else to describe it. He had been asleep when it had happened. It was as if the whole world had trembled. The ground beneath him shook so violently that he was surprised that the forest did not collapse atop him. He felt something pull at him, something far and distant to the north. A low, haunting voice rumbled in his mind. 
 
 *Come, Lost One. We await. * 
 
 That was all it had said, and that was all he needed. 
 
 For all his life he had wandered the lands. He had no memory of being a boy or of his parents. He did not remember playing with other children or having any boyhood friends. One day, he was just there. He drifted from town to town, city to city, without thought and without purpose. He lived solitary, and alone. The days brought only a chain of visual sensations, none of which cohered into any sort of meaning to him. The world felt out of focus, without meaning. 
 
 Until the message. 
 
 He had travelled, moving northwards slowly over many long days, days that turned to weeks, weeks that turned to months. He did not know if he was getting any closer at first and he felt as if he were destined to walk north forever, until the end of the world. However, he had felt that rumbling again and heard that ancient, rumbling voice. 
 
 *Come, Lost One. Return to us. * 
 
 And so he continued on his journey. Onwards and onwards, further north. As he travelled, he felt that pulling become stronger. Day by day, the tug on him became more focused, until he could point directly where his destination was. 
 
 And on the thirteenth month of travelling, he had come onto this valley. The valley was enormous. It would've taken him four days to cross from one end to the other, however he was so close. He knew exactly where he was meant to go. As soon as he had entered the valley, he saw his destination. A place of vast stones and ancient ruins. That was where his journey had taken him, and where he was now. 
 
 He stepped carefully over the rock-strewn ground that slowly angled upwards. This close, he could see the ruins in more detail. Whatever this place was, it had been abandoned for some time. Moss clung to the stones tightly, blanketing them in hues of green. Ivy creeped over the cracks in the ancient stonework. 
 
 Suddenly, the ground shook again. The earth heaved up and down, and he dropped to the ground, clinging onto tufts of grass to stop himself from being thrown about like a rag-doll. The stones around him crumbled and fell. 
 
 And then the quake ceased. 
 
 *We have waited long for you, Lost One. * 
 
 He stood and stared amazed. Two stone creatures, ancient beyond imagining, peered down at him. Their eyes glowed unnaturally. Runic carvings in their stoney-hides thrummed with energy. He could not believe them to be made of stone, for they towered to high above him. And they had spoken to him. 
 
 He knelt before them, he felt that it was only right, `` Why am I here?'' 
 
 *You have been gone for too long, too long. * 
 
 He looked up at them, he did not know what they were talking about, `` What is this place? Why have you brought me here?'' 
 
 Suddenly, one of the great creatures lifted its head and howled a mournful cry. 
 
 *Too long! * 
 
 *Too long! * 
 
 `` Why am I here?'' He shouted, trying to be heard over their grieving cries. 
 
 *Your mind was addled in the escape. When the invaders came, our creators -- your people -- sent away the young so that they would be spared from the killings. All across the lands were you spread, to the north, to the south, to the east and the west. Far and far away were you sent. * 
 
 *We were created to stand guard over the ancient city, however we failed. We could not hold back the enemy's raving hordes. In the final moments of the war, we were given new instructions. We were told to bring back their children once it was safe. * 
 
 *So, we went into slumber. For many long years we have waited until the time is right. Until we could send out the message and bring home the Lost Ones. * 
 
 Flashes of memory, flashes of images, burned into the Wanderer's eyes. He shook his head, trying to clear it of the images that came unbidden. He could see himself as a boy, playing with his father's reddish-blonde hair. He could remember the girl in red who had been his first childhood love. He could remember the fires that had burnt down his home. He could remember the blood pooling around his father's body. 
 
 Suddenly, life -- bleary, washed out -- snaps back into focus. The ancient guardians blink down at you and suddenly the world has meaning again. Purpose floods into him. 
 
 *Go into the city, Lost One No More. * 
 
 The Wanderer stood... No, that was not his name. He had another name. 
 
 *Long have we awaited your return! * 
 
 *Go into the city, Atlas! * 
 
 His name was Atlas and he would wander no more. 
 
 *Save your people. *
