The Guardian Quetzalcoatl, Provoked

[Avin]

Not a country of its own, yet given the title of its own place and history, the Tular Plains is not how myth would imagine it. Habitating the southern peninsula of the main Althanas continent, it holds recognition as being both the homeland to demons, vampires and other darker races, and also various entrances to the hells. In this spirit one might imagine that all it is is a land of fire and brimstone, where eyes can only see death. The truth is rather opposite - for though decay does lurk in the darker corners the land itself is full of life. A thriving temperate forest filled with wildlife sits aside vast plains. Villages sprawl beside mighty fortresses, though the dead live here as much as the living do. Great demon lords and half-fallen angels dwell in temples and on thrones, but rule just as righteously, as peacefully and as honourably.

In the small place known as Tucanon the people were devoted to such a mysterious lord. A beast of great proportions who had, since anyone could remember, lived amongst the tall, full trees of the forest. The small villages that depended on his protection from other deities pledged themselves to him. They left offerings of meat, grain and on harsh winters, human sacrifices. The guardian lord brought peace and prosperity, and never attacked them ... unless provoked.

"My lord! The guardian of Tucanon Forest has been provoked!"

So puffed the exhausted messenger rushing into the huge stone temple. Dark and grey the entire place was a dreary one in the exterior, only made more glamorous with a hundred bright torches. Two lords, one with flaxen hair and fat, the other white-haired, gorgeous looking and thin, looked up from the stone dais where they sat discussing.

The messenger came to a screeching halt as his hooves, for he was a twisted form of a faun, came to a halt. He had dark blue skin and numerous grey tattoos over his body.

The fat lord stood, robes of white falling about him.

"What?" He asked, incredulous. "The guardian of ... How?"

"The people - talk of a - a brown haired man," the messenger puffed out in staggered words. "Who ... They did not give details."

"Who did not?"

"The villagers ... They call for help."

The large man looked shocked, his chest heaving up and down. Looking left to right in uncertainty he seemed to struggle to gain understanding of the situation.

"Why should you give help?" a smarmy, chilling but seductive voice came.

The messenger looked over to the other lord, brows rising to the height of his horns.

"Sir?"

The other lord also looked over, long confused. "Quansaldo, I have an agreement, a responsibility to make a move if one of the ancient guardians goes awry."

"'Goes awry'?!" Quansaldo laughed mockingly, "You lot ... You really are ..." He waved a hand, still grinning. "It is that important to you?"

"... Of the utmost," the fat lord said, actually the demon lord Sabazios, of Excess, frowning at Quansaldo's reaction. "You ... Do not think I should go?"

"No, you have work here, with me," Quansaldo shook his head, also known as Vindrexis, half-god and originally from a far distant planet. He paused, and then a light lit in his eyes. "Ah, send Avin."

Sabazios rose his brows. "Send ... Avin?"

"Indeed," Vindrexis Quansaldo grinned from messenger to demon lord.

And they agreed.

And that was that. Hence me ending up outside the Tucanon forest, sighing as I saw smoke rising from the trees.

It looked like the guardian's rampage to its former guardees had begun. I gripped my naginata with a growl forming in my throat. This was not going to be very fun.