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Description
Oakenrack, the Forest Warden:
They say life on this planet is divided primarily into two kingdoms: flora and fauna. Quite a large amount of kaiju clearly make themselves at home in the latter. Several eschew organic definition entirely. During the time of the Great Trials there emerged a kaiju whose life ended as the latter, was renewed as the former and could only partially be considered organic today. A great stag of the forest whose antlers scrapped the skies and whose cloven hooves drew strength from the earth; this mighty beast is known as Oakenrack.

Competition was fierce during the Great Trials. There were dozens of potential guardians that were pushed to the extremes of savagery, where some were unyielding others bent; where some bent others broke. The kaiju that would become Oakenrack was an example of one that broke. Such foul luck to be born as a representative of the animal family that is today known as Cervidae. A walking meal ticket for anything much more equipped for the rigorous of the hunt. This prospective guardian however was a wily creature, incredibly fast and agile. The deer succeeded where its lesser kin would fail, it evaded predation until it towered above the brush that once concealed it…and grew a lethal snarl of sharp edged bone from atop its head; a hellish pair of spades that gave it a wide range of violence to inflict. What got past the antlers had to deal with its massive fangs and cloven hooves powered by legs that could send it hurtling over its foe’s heads and send heads in turn hurtling quite a bit higher. Defensive and skittish as its nature dictated, it survived for quite some time even as it began to tower over the same trees that once gave it sanctuary. As resources dwindled, the great stag was forced to make concessions and make itself more readily visible as a certain goliath maggot left a trail of rot, poison and disease in its clumsy wake. It would find an ally in an unexpected place.

One of the few places that hadn’t been defiled was home to another guardian potential, one that knew neither flesh nor blood. The kaiju was a creature of the earth, a golem with a crystalline core that glowed emerald hues with the rhythm of a stone heart. Its indifference and inorganic nature confused and bored the goliath maggot, its insistence met with tenacious resistance. The maggot’s hunger would get the best of it, and like a child throwing a tantrum it would leave to find more exploitable fields elsewhere. The great stag was quite different to the ponderous colossus, something it could not catch and something that meant it little harm. An alliance of sorts emerged between the stag and the golem, the stag having access to the pristine lands the golem guarded and the golem aiding it in fighting off threats it could not handle on its own; such were the terms of their tolerance. Such tolerance would turn to companionship as the two fought side by side to remove the increasingly dangerous and desperate forces seeking Gaia’s approval. The golem was just like the others, a fluke of fate and life taken in one of many, many directions. Could stone and gem succeed where flesh and bone could not? This was the central question the golem’s existence depended on. It would mend its wounded form with care and patience, absorbing the earth and soil to make itself whole again. The stag, given this security to grow unmolested, would find it’s talents within the garden valley itself. The trees grew at its urging, flowers bloomed at its feet and wilted in the next. Plants of great size took root and their seeds were spread through the natural course of digestion. Fertile and verdant, the valley was an oasis in what was otherwise shaping into a primordial battlefield. The great instigator, mirthful in his flight, could only siege the two for so long. His metamorphosis to a great fly did little to deter the golem or deal lasting harm to the hellish bombardment of nettles and lashing vines. He would retreat, teasing and bloated on what entertainment he could derive but as ever was busy and sought out more easily riled unfortunates. Despite these random and often humorous sieges to their valley, for a time, there was peace.

But peace has an enemy, a predator of its own. It was a tiny thing at first, as most things are. It felt restrained, bonded by the tranquility that surrounded it and it riled against the suffocation. Such stagnation should not be, Gaia heard its mewling rage and gave it opportunity to prove itself, another event in this Great Trial to win or lose. It frantically suckled at its chance for change and an ominous red ‘thing’ tore itself loose from the garden. It surged and fought, retreated to lick its wounds before diving back into the thick of battle again within the midst of the lesser predators. It learned ferocity, it learned pain, it learned strength, and it learned adaption…all that was left for it to achieve its mission: power. The stag had become complacent, the red murk hidden under the reflective sheen of the water went unnoticed. The signs of carnage and totems of defiance went unheeded. The stag’s gift was stolen, distorted and leeched from its snout from an alien adversary that did not know fear but held a thirst for anger. It had been too long since the stag had seen it’s vital essence torn from it, it’s pride was insulted and it thrust and stamped it’s hooves into the muck to smite the outrageous attack upon its person. But the red thing had what it needed, and it wanted more. It spiraled like a briar weed, slashing and spurring the offensive limbs that sought to stamp it out. It drew a vicious maw and bit deep, drawing more essence into itself. The Stag recoiled in terror, tearing loose from the red thing and leaping onto the banks with a thunderous pounding of the soil. The golem felt the disturbance, it’s ally had tapped his ear and the colossus lumbered to face whatever had come to challenge it’s charge. The red thing retreated from the waters, dragging its prize with it and arming itself for battle. It took a form, twisted and predatory on fierce spikes. It’s eerie visage devoid of empathy or remorse as its slavering jaws snapped and tendrils of sinewy flesh and vein and sprouted along its length. The golem could sense the anomaly, but only faintly. It had little weight and jerked and twitched with a frantic urgency to kill. It danced and screeched and howled like a banshee before Irish woman’s tragedy was even known. The stag was horrified of the red thing, it’s size nearly a quarter of its own as it sang a song of violence. The golem lent its hand and hurled a great slab of stone at the red thing. But the red thing was swift, drawing on what it had gained from the stag, it stared without eyes at the advancing mound of rock and deftly leaped to the side as it crashed next to it. The red thing chattered in the laughter of small, wary things and spat upon the stone. The stag regained its courage then, such was the foul demon’s insult that the bitter sting to its comradery urged it to bring the entire valley to life. The trees, mighty treants now marched against the defiler. Strange flora burst into bloom, coating the air with their hazardous spores. Lichens and moss threw themselves like a tidal wave, their roots biting deep into the soil. Brush unfurled deadly lines of artillery, bursting with nettles the size of swords and showering down with explosive sap. The red thing’s spine boiled as if a dog’s hackles, splattering livid plasma about as it snapped and leapt through the legion of flora sent to bring it down. With the swiftness of things many times smaller the red thing twirled and sliced. The sinewy appendages on its back lashing out with a blur of motion as it closed the distance between it and its quarry. A wall of briars caught the red thing, attempting to crush him within its cruel embrace of thorns. The stag would have no victory, for the red thing’s rage spurred it to send every part of it to fight. Like a tide of fire ants the red thing swarmed and dripped through the wall of thorns. The titanic briars discolored and torn asunder by the heat of thousands of cells, burning like raging suns through their fibrous skin.

It would recollect and reform itself before the stag, snarling its intentions as it scuttled toward it. The golem would intercede, making a barrier that the red thing could not penetrate. It’s fashioned claws scrapped and sparked but the stone held and the colossus’s splattered the red thing into the earth. It would appear that the battle had been won, but the red thing had a will stronger and a rage fiercer than the sedentary golem could fathom. It slithered up the golem’s hands, hissing a chant of doom as it sought the vulnerable joints of the golem, the small gaps in between that the golem could not defend against. The stag watched as the golem struggled to keep the red thing from reaching his crystal core. The stag attempted to siphon the red thing from its ally but the red thing lashed out, taking more from the stag and increasing its bubbling fury. The golem had little recourse but to struggle to the waters and attempt to cleanse himself of the furious taint that surged beneath the stone. The red thing had lost its use for water, it hissed at the stinging dissolvement and hammered at the crystal cage protecting the heart of the golem. The golem groaned in an agony that came not from flesh or bone but from its very existence as its essence was now under siege from within. The stag could only wait as the golem desperately submerged itself again and again, striving to remove the vile passenger. The red thing screeched as it bored through and the Golem sank as it’s possessor wrapped around the core and devoured it. The waters were still as the golem hung like a hanged man on the surface. With an uncanny twitch it came back to life…and began to walk toward the banks again. The stag took this as a sign of victory and met the golem as the waters cascaded off its mighty frame. Something was amiss however, the core no longer glowed and the drone of its keeper was silent. The core lit with a furious red as the red thing commanded it’s vessel to seize the stag. So close and at ease, the stag stood no chance as it was caught in a grip of unyielding stone and the red thing rose above the gap in the collar of the titan, roaring it’s hatred at the prey who dared consider itself an enemy. The stag was frozen in that time, facing its death as the red thing lunged, penetrating the fur and flesh to tear loose the essence within. The oasis dimmed as night descended. The red thing took every ounce of flesh, pound of muscle, gallon upon hundred gallon of blood; leaving naught but a bare skeleton before it. The red thing grew, many times it grew and it’s spindly digits became powerful limbs. It’s jagged grip was made into claws. It formed the windows of its soul and for the first time, saw the world around it with another’s clarity. The red thing was now truly alive, no longer a concept of existence. The quest was not over however, the first battle had been won but the ‘war’ had only just begun. It had rivals to defeat, an army to raise, the glory of its matron to uphold. It had entered the valley a desperate soldier, it had left a warrior. It was young and hungry but it had tasted victory and knew that it needed more to secure Gaia’s favor.

The valley had been decimated, withered plant life and shattered blood stained earth was all that remained of a once peaceful paradise. The stag and golem had fallen together in a clutch of forced betrayal. The stag was no more but life still flickered within the golem. The violated core made a timid sojourn out of its vessel and pushed itself toward the bones of its comrade with spurs of cracked quartz. When it at last made a shuddering stop inside the ribs of its fallen ally, a miracle of life began to grow. The energy of the core reawakened the bones of the stag and the once dormant plant life heeded a final call from its master. The vines and tendrils cradled the core and nestled it deep within as the surviving bits of the oasis converged on bones and knitted a new form. The core, rejuvenated by this gesture, called to the earth and great plates of granite and soil were sewn together to form a new body through which the plant life could anchor itself. The antlers became knotted and burst forth anew with the timber of the treants and the bones absorbed the minerals and ores restored what had been stripped away. The bones rose up and the empty sockets lit with an otherworldly light. An echoing call as deep as the cavernous depths and as far reaching as the northern winds rang out from its stony teeth; an supernatural balmy heat sending vapor from its photosynthesis laden lungs. From the fall of stag and golem, rose a being of neither yet both. What stood in their place became known as Oakenrack.

The embodiment of arboreal wrath was no longer content to stay confined in its hollow valley, it forced it’s competition to respect it and left a trail of over growth and razor ferns in its wake. Those that dared to strike against it now felt the blister of acidic berries flung from its antlers, the antlers themselves growing continuously and at great speeds to pierce the enemy and take back the fluid that had once been stolen from it by the red thing. The ‘animals’ of the world were tools of seed dispersal and fertilizer before Oakenrack. His mighty hooves splitting limbs and skulls like hollow chestnuts, the root like tendrils that formed them striking deep to feast on all fluids made available. The smoke and fire of other creatures, was merely a challenge to overcome, Oakenrack’s leaves devouring the carbon, the stone unfeeling as bursting sap and branch staked his fire breathing foes. The elemental stag’s visage was horrifying, a baleful skull that held only glowing venom for all those of flesh that met Oakenrack’s gaze. Two would cross the forest stag’s path and not be broken in his garden of pain. A nimble squirrel that danced on the wind and took no solace in the Great Trial’s conflict was among his opponents. Like him, she did what she must in order to survive but neither had anything to gain from destroying the other. Their abilities twined in a natural sync, complimenting even as they were used against one another. The squirrel, Rainsha, earned the great stag’s respect, for there were few more agile than he and who could dance in his garden without being torn by its thorns and deceived by its aromatic perils. They had left peacefully, each recognizing the other as worthy of existence for Rainsha reminded the stag of what it once was when it was a creature of flesh. The second was a mighty hunter of flame, scorching the skies with the promise of change and screeching her glory to the heavens. He found her showy and destructive but there was more than devastation in her flames. There was creation, transmutation in the fire and potential for new beginnings. The idea made Oakenrack’s stones ache, so much change so quickly had nearly destroyed it. Their conflict was intense but short, as neither truly made head way against the other. She dominated the skies while he held the ground. Neither found much purchase on the other even as his garden blackened with ash and her feathers dripped with vicious pollen and flitted haphazardly from unerring stone flung by the muscle of a thousand fold roots. Not complimentary but equal. She found humor in his stubbornness, tittering in staccato as she soared off, leaving a warm haze in her wake. Oakenrack did not feel ill toward the one that would be known as Dawnaria, she had left him alive but tested. His garden would grow stronger from the ash, more resilient from the flames.

Soon there were but a handful of them left and Gaia summoned them forward. They would face the Apocalypse Bringers for the right to become a Guardian, for in the Great Trials there was no other reason for living. The gauntlet had been thrown and the fly lord, Beelzebub, was to be his challenge. He was not alone, Dawnaria had also been chosen to face him; eager to prove her mettle in the air. Aside from her, a shifting thing on eight legs, Duskizen, was also called forth to challenge Beelzebub. The three soon went out to battle the fly lord in an open clearing, Beelzebub making jest at the trinity before him, plucking the spines on his rear as if to promise their purchase upon it’s hair barbed surface. Dawnaria wasted no time, taking to the skies and taking the battle to him, Beelzebub darting out of the way with ease before likewise zipping into the air. Duskizen disappeared, sinking in the shadows for a purpose unknown to the other two. Oakenrack noted these two extremes with disinterest, one waiting for opportunity, the other striving to force it; neither seemed to be having much luck. Oakenrack had driven the fly lord when he was two beings, now that he was one he had all the means to do so again. The forest stag rooted himself into the earth, expanding his territory and senses, feeling with the soil. The tree line expanded in a wave of green, shoots becoming saplings and saplings becoming trees that bombarded the soil with seeds to repeat the process. The garden grew about Oakenrack as the specialized flora took position and Oakenrack called to the fly lord. Seeing such a marvel filled Beelzebub with eagerness to take for his own, diving down to undo the hard labors. Oakenrack did not falter, standing his ground before the barrage of toxic stings that sparked across his stone form. The vines lashed and forced the fly lord lower, brush twirling serrated leaves coated with irritants as the fly lord passed even lower. A mine field of pollen exploded around Beelzebub, addling him and constricting the vents required for breath. Such natural spores of so many varieties was sickeningly sweet to the fly lord, fumbling around drunkenly in the air as Oakenrack called the treants to move, the trees growing toward the great white insect and seeking to entrap him in a constrictive cage of timber and thorns. The task was almost done…until a blast of white hot fire blew the cage to smithereens and sent the fly tumbling away through the flowers in a grass stained smear. The fire vaporizing the pollen and clearing the air, Beelzebub quickly sorted himself and took wing again, humming with amusement at two simultaneous failures with hardly any intervention on his part. Dawnaria, hot headed with tunnel vision, wanted the victory herself and had little idea that interfering had cost her a chance at success. Oakenrack had obtained a great deal of patience however and merely adjusted his plan of attack, as Beelzebub harried Dawnaria in the air, Oakenrack unleashed countless projectiles, exploding cones and paralyzing berries to harry the fly lord. But Beelzebub was far to agile in the air and weaved around the attacks near effortlessly. Dawnaria however did not, forced to expend energy tearing through the obstructions with waves of flame as the fly lord danced mockingly out of reach. At this point Oakenrack commanded the tendrils to tear great boulders from the soil and darken the skies with earth. Beelzebub buzzed about, mindful of the dangers and even using them as leverage as his clinging feet would catch the largest of them and ride them about before leaping away. Oakenrack saw the habit and adjusted his strategy again, sending rocks laden with explosive sap and wreathed in clinging roots to assault their foe. Beelzebub expected as much and used Dawnaria’s overzealous aggression to cause an explosive collision that sent her hurtling back to earth…directly into the garden. The ensuing detonation of flame tore up much of Oakenrack’s arsenal and Dawnaria was now battered from chasing a smaller target through a hail of deadly flora generated shrapnel. Beelzebub couldn’t help himself, making it worse by zipping through the flames and making the problem intensify by venting a massive swath of gas directly over Oakenrack, the ensuing explosion tore Oakenrack from his foundation.

The forest stag felt little in the way of pain but was outraged by the rapid loss of control over the situation. Beelzebub teased them now, zipping about the charred landscape as the two were now forced to face him in melee if they could catch him. Oakenrack retained the agility and speed of his bones, sweeping his antlers to rake at the insect. Dawnaria pounced and clawed, waiting for her wing to mend as billowing hot flames shot from her beak. But the fly lord was always one step ahead, leading their attacks into one another, striking when they recoiled, egging them on to try again. Such frustration wore down the stone of Oakenrack’s body, his antlers sizzling with the drenching puke of the fly lord’s acid. Dawnaria was raked with smoking splinters, toxic spines leaving bizarre flames to trail from her hide as her chimerical body fought to stay standing. The fly lord gloated, amused at such dysfunction. As the youngest of the three, he would have assumed that he would have the roughest time of it. Woe and behold how he so easily worked his foes against each other, truly priceless. Individually they might have succeeded, but together they undid all hope of succeeding. A demented gleam reflected from the compound eyes as he perched, his wings droning a wave of compulsive sound. The two kaiju struggled, Dawnaria the worse of it as the wave rippled through her body. Oakenrack attempted to drive the compulsion from his body but it crept its way into his mind and sung deep into his skull, his body faltering to respond. Beelzebub had saved the best prank for last, since they had made such a mess of the place, they could clean each other up instead of him doing all that unnecessary violence, he could make soup out of whomever was more intact after the fact. Salad or stew, which one would be more appetizing the fly lord wondered as he compelled the two to attack each other directly. Oakenrack’s body refused to budge but Dawnaria’s was under the fly lord’s spell, her flames beating the helpless stag and turning the stones red hot as Beelzebub continued to hum the acts of his morbid puppet show.

However, the fly lord had made a fatal error. His most powerful ability had forced him to land and cast a shadow upon the earth. Duskizen had played his hand well, lurking in the plane between light and darkness. Beelzebub found himself caught in a trap not of his own devising and dragged the spider into the sky to duel with a single minded fury that only insects and arachnids could indulge. Oakenrack could only watch as the two made a final clash before the thread was dissolved with acidic bile and both Shadow Weaver and fly lord were cast to earth. The ordeal had finally placed the white fly at their mercy and both Oakenrack and Dawnaria cut off all avenues of escape as Duskizen webbed the fly lord down. Victory was theirs. Gaia’s approval resonated within them and their trials had been vindicated. While Duskizen attempted and failed to get the last word, the fly lord leaving a ‘parting shot’ before flying off to observe the end of the battle concerning one of his elders, Oakenrack at last felt some measure of peace. They were brought before Gaia and given their guardianship. Oakenrack was made guardian of the forests, of all flora upon the earth and kindred of the soil. His influence would cover the world in fields of green, wherever conditions allowed the kingdom of growth to take root. He took watch of all creatures who took shelter beneath the boughs and through the seasons gave impression to time’s footsteps. His organic mortal kin would go wherever his forests grew, sacrifice hand and hand with reward as nature dictates.

His final task before the great age of ice was one of cooperation. Rainsha had come before him, to create a place where their wonders would be made and protected beyond the veil of the ever changing world. The new Guardian of Life was full of promise but also some measure of naivety. By then the stag had seen much, felt much in his own way. The squirrel was patient and persistent and eventually the Forest Warden agreed to aid her. Upon an island ever moving, veiled in electric storms and mist, Rainsha and Oakenrack made a mighty tree. This tree, so massive was it that Rainsha could easily nest within its boughs. The great oak was called The Tree of Life and it granted and preserved the gift of life for all those upon the island. Such rare things, Rainsha shepherded to the island, naming it Avalon. Oakenrack, his work completed, drifted into the deep forests of the west. There he faced the age of ice along with his brethren and like them he settled into the earth, to sleep and wait for a time when he would be needed again and to feel a heartbeat of crystal and stone. His presence can be felt subtly, but only those that know where to look. The Forest Warden dreams much, stirs little and figments of his dreams drift from the oldest forests and occasionally cross the paths of man…who remain woefully ignorant to the Arboreal Lord’s presence. For if such a time where his kingdom is greatly defiled and his bones begin to ache unbearably from the soil’s pain. Oakenrack shall rise again, and work of man shall see the fury of nature unleashed.

********

A bit of an experiment this time. I didn't want to just show you the uncolored drawing of the Stats Pic which will be colored and sorted out soon. So to go along with the bio information, where I normally put the first design, I decided to do a bizzare cave painting add a visual to the story. Of course, this is my interpretation of a cave painting so it might be more advanced than an actual cave painting lol. Sorry for the extreme simplicity .

-RenDragonClaw

Description
Oakenrack, the Forest Warden:
They say life on this planet is divided primarily into two kingdoms: flora and fauna. Quite a large amount of kaiju clearly make themselves at home in the latter. Several eschew organic definition entirely. During the time of the Great Trials there emerged a kaiju whose life ended as the latter, was renewed as the former and could only partially be considered organic today. A great stag of the forest whose antlers scrapped the skies and whose cloven hooves drew strength from the earth; this mighty beast is known as Oakenrack.

Competition was fierce during the Great Trials. There were dozens of potential guardians that were pushed to the extremes of savagery, where some were unyielding others bent; where some bent others broke. The kaiju that would become Oakenrack was an example of one that broke. Such foul luck to be born as a representative of the animal family that is today known as Cervidae. A walking meal ticket for anything much more equipped for the rigorous of the hunt. This prospective guardian however was a wily creature, incredibly fast and agile. The deer succeeded where its lesser kin would fail, it evaded predation until it towered above the brush that once concealed it…and grew a lethal snarl of sharp edged bone from atop its head; a hellish pair of spades that gave it a wide range of violence to inflict. What got past the antlers had to deal with its massive fangs and cloven hooves powered by legs that could send it hurtling over its foe’s heads and send heads in turn hurtling quite a bit higher. Defensive and skittish as its nature dictated, it survived for quite some time even as it began to tower over the same trees that once gave it sanctuary. As resources dwindled, the great stag was forced to make concessions and make itself more readily visible as a certain goliath maggot left a trail of rot, poison and disease in its clumsy wake. It would find an ally in an unexpected place.

One of the few places that hadn’t been defiled was home to another guardian potential, one that knew neither flesh nor blood. The kaiju was a creature of the earth, a golem with a crystalline core that glowed emerald hues with the rhythm of a stone heart. Its indifference and inorganic nature confused and bored the goliath maggot, its insistence met with tenacious resistance. The maggot’s hunger would get the best of it, and like a child throwing a tantrum it would leave to find more exploitable fields elsewhere. The great stag was quite different to the ponderous colossus, something it could not catch and something that meant it little harm. An alliance of sorts emerged between the stag and the golem, the stag having access to the pristine lands the golem guarded and the golem aiding it in fighting off threats it could not handle on its own; such were the terms of their tolerance. Such tolerance would turn to companionship as the two fought side by side to remove the increasingly dangerous and desperate forces seeking Gaia’s approval. The golem was just like the others, a fluke of fate and life taken in one of many, many directions. Could stone and gem succeed where flesh and bone could not? This was the central question the golem’s existence depended on. It would mend its wounded form with care and patience, absorbing the earth and soil to make itself whole again. The stag, given this security to grow unmolested, would find it’s talents within the garden valley itself. The trees grew at its urging, flowers bloomed at its feet and wilted in the next. Plants of great size took root and their seeds were spread through the natural course of digestion. Fertile and verdant, the valley was an oasis in what was otherwise shaping into a primordial battlefield. The great instigator, mirthful in his flight, could only siege the two for so long. His metamorphosis to a great fly did little to deter the golem or deal lasting harm to the hellish bombardment of nettles and lashing vines. He would retreat, teasing and bloated on what entertainment he could derive but as ever was busy and sought out more easily riled unfortunates. Despite these random and often humorous sieges to their valley, for a time, there was peace.

But peace has an enemy, a predator of its own. It was a tiny thing at first, as most things are. It felt restrained, bonded by the tranquility that surrounded it and it riled against the suffocation. Such stagnation should not be, Gaia heard its mewling rage and gave it opportunity to prove itself, another event in this Great Trial to win or lose. It frantically suckled at its chance for change and an ominous red ‘thing’ tore itself loose from the garden. It surged and fought, retreated to lick its wounds before diving back into the thick of battle again within the midst of the lesser predators. It learned ferocity, it learned pain, it learned strength, and it learned adaption…all that was left for it to achieve its mission: power. The stag had become complacent, the red murk hidden under the reflective sheen of the water went unnoticed. The signs of carnage and totems of defiance went unheeded. The stag’s gift was stolen, distorted and leeched from its snout from an alien adversary that did not know fear but held a thirst for anger. It had been too long since the stag had seen it’s vital essence torn from it, it’s pride was insulted and it thrust and stamped it’s hooves into the muck to smite the outrageous attack upon its person. But the red thing had what it needed, and it wanted more. It spiraled like a briar weed, slashing and spurring the offensive limbs that sought to stamp it out. It drew a vicious maw and bit deep, drawing more essence into itself. The Stag recoiled in terror, tearing loose from the red thing and leaping onto the banks with a thunderous pounding of the soil. The golem felt the disturbance, it’s ally had tapped his ear and the colossus lumbered to face whatever had come to challenge it’s charge. The red thing retreated from the waters, dragging its prize with it and arming itself for battle. It took a form, twisted and predatory on fierce spikes. It’s eerie visage devoid of empathy or remorse as its slavering jaws snapped and tendrils of sinewy flesh and vein and sprouted along its length. The golem could sense the anomaly, but only faintly. It had little weight and jerked and twitched with a frantic urgency to kill. It danced and screeched and howled like a banshee before Irish woman’s tragedy was even known. The stag was horrified of the red thing, it’s size nearly a quarter of its own as it sang a song of violence. The golem lent its hand and hurled a great slab of stone at the red thing. But the red thing was swift, drawing on what it had gained from the stag, it stared without eyes at the advancing mound of rock and deftly leaped to the side as it crashed next to it. The red thing chattered in the laughter of small, wary things and spat upon the stone. The stag regained its courage then, such was the foul demon’s insult that the bitter sting to its comradery urged it to bring the entire valley to life. The trees, mighty treants now marched against the defiler. Strange flora burst into bloom, coating the air with their hazardous spores. Lichens and moss threw themselves like a tidal wave, their roots biting deep into the soil. Brush unfurled deadly lines of artillery, bursting with nettles the size of swords and showering down with explosive sap. The red thing’s spine boiled as if a dog’s hackles, splattering livid plasma about as it snapped and leapt through the legion of flora sent to bring it down. With the swiftness of things many times smaller the red thing twirled and sliced. The sinewy appendages on its back lashing out with a blur of motion as it closed the distance between it and its quarry. A wall of briars caught the red thing, attempting to crush him within its cruel embrace of thorns. The stag would have no victory, for the red thing’s rage spurred it to send every part of it to fight. Like a tide of fire ants the red thing swarmed and dripped through the wall of thorns. The titanic briars discolored and torn asunder by the heat of thousands of cells, burning like raging suns through their fibrous skin.

It would recollect and reform itself before the stag, snarling its intentions as it scuttled toward it. The golem would intercede, making a barrier that the red thing could not penetrate. It’s fashioned claws scrapped and sparked but the stone held and the colossus’s splattered the red thing into the earth. It would appear that the battle had been won, but the red thing had a will stronger and a rage fiercer than the sedentary golem could fathom. It slithered up the golem’s hands, hissing a chant of doom as it sought the vulnerable joints of the golem, the small gaps in between that the golem could not defend against. The stag watched as the golem struggled to keep the red thing from reaching his crystal core. The stag attempted to siphon the red thing from its ally but the red thing lashed out, taking more from the stag and increasing its bubbling fury. The golem had little recourse but to struggle to the waters and attempt to cleanse himself of the furious taint that surged beneath the stone. The red thing had lost its use for water, it hissed at the stinging dissolvement and hammered at the crystal cage protecting the heart of the golem. The golem groaned in an agony that came not from flesh or bone but from its very existence as its essence was now under siege from within. The stag could only wait as the golem desperately submerged itself again and again, striving to remove the vile passenger. The red thing screeched as it bored through and the Golem sank as it’s possessor wrapped around the core and devoured it. The waters were still as the golem hung like a hanged man on the surface. With an uncanny twitch it came back to life…and began to walk toward the banks again. The stag took this as a sign of victory and met the golem as the waters cascaded off its mighty frame. Something was amiss however, the core no longer glowed and the drone of its keeper was silent. The core lit with a furious red as the red thing commanded it’s vessel to seize the stag. So close and at ease, the stag stood no chance as it was caught in a grip of unyielding stone and the red thing rose above the gap in the collar of the titan, roaring it’s hatred at the prey who dared consider itself an enemy. The stag was frozen in that time, facing its death as the red thing lunged, penetrating the fur and flesh to tear loose the essence within. The oasis dimmed as night descended. The red thing took every ounce of flesh, pound of muscle, gallon upon hundred gallon of blood; leaving naught but a bare skeleton before it. The red thing grew, many times it grew and it’s spindly digits became powerful limbs. It’s jagged grip was made into claws. It formed the windows of its soul and for the first time, saw the world around it with another’s clarity. The red thing was now truly alive, no longer a concept of existence. The quest was not over however, the first battle had been won but the ‘war’ had only just begun. It had rivals to defeat, an army to raise, the glory of its matron to uphold. It had entered the valley a desperate soldier, it had left a warrior. It was young and hungry but it had tasted victory and knew that it needed more to secure Gaia’s favor.

The valley had been decimated, withered plant life and shattered blood stained earth was all that remained of a once peaceful paradise. The stag and golem had fallen together in a clutch of forced betrayal. The stag was no more but life still flickered within the golem. The violated core made a timid sojourn out of its vessel and pushed itself toward the bones of its comrade with spurs of cracked quartz. When it at last made a shuddering stop inside the ribs of its fallen ally, a miracle of life began to grow. The energy of the core reawakened the bones of the stag and the once dormant plant life heeded a final call from its master. The vines and tendrils cradled the core and nestled it deep within as the surviving bits of the oasis converged on bones and knitted a new form. The core, rejuvenated by this gesture, called to the earth and great plates of granite and soil were sewn together to form a new body through which the plant life could anchor itself. The antlers became knotted and burst forth anew with the timber of the treants and the bones absorbed the minerals and ores restored what had been stripped away. The bones rose up and the empty sockets lit with an otherworldly light. An echoing call as deep as the cavernous depths and as far reaching as the northern winds rang out from its stony teeth; an supernatural balmy heat sending vapor from its photosynthesis laden lungs. From the fall of stag and golem, rose a being of neither yet both. What stood in their place became known as Oakenrack.

The embodiment of arboreal wrath was no longer content to stay confined in its hollow valley, it forced it’s competition to respect it and left a trail of over growth and razor ferns in its wake. Those that dared to strike against it now felt the blister of acidic berries flung from its antlers, the antlers themselves growing continuously and at great speeds to pierce the enemy and take back the fluid that had once been stolen from it by the red thing. The ‘animals’ of the world were tools of seed dispersal and fertilizer before Oakenrack. His mighty hooves splitting limbs and skulls like hollow chestnuts, the root like tendrils that formed them striking deep to feast on all fluids made available. The smoke and fire of other creatures, was merely a challenge to overcome, Oakenrack’s leaves devouring the carbon, the stone unfeeling as bursting sap and branch staked his fire breathing foes. The elemental stag’s visage was horrifying, a baleful skull that held only glowing venom for all those of flesh that met Oakenrack’s gaze. Two would cross the forest stag’s path and not be broken in his garden of pain. A nimble squirrel that danced on the wind and took no solace in the Great Trial’s conflict was among his opponents. Like him, she did what she must in order to survive but neither had anything to gain from destroying the other. Their abilities twined in a natural sync, complimenting even as they were used against one another. The squirrel, Rainsha, earned the great stag’s respect, for there were few more agile than he and who could dance in his garden without being torn by its thorns and deceived by its aromatic perils. They had left peacefully, each recognizing the other as worthy of existence for Rainsha reminded the stag of what it once was when it was a creature of flesh. The second was a mighty hunter of flame, scorching the skies with the promise of change and screeching her glory to the heavens. He found her showy and destructive but there was more than devastation in her flames. There was creation, transmutation in the fire and potential for new beginnings. The idea made Oakenrack’s stones ache, so much change so quickly had nearly destroyed it. Their conflict was intense but short, as neither truly made head way against the other. She dominated the skies while he held the ground. Neither found much purchase on the other even as his garden blackened with ash and her feathers dripped with vicious pollen and flitted haphazardly from unerring stone flung by the muscle of a thousand fold roots. Not complimentary but equal. She found humor in his stubbornness, tittering in staccato as she soared off, leaving a warm haze in her wake. Oakenrack did not feel ill toward the one that would be known as Dawnaria, she had left him alive but tested. His garden would grow stronger from the ash, more resilient from the flames.

Soon there were but a handful of them left and Gaia summoned them forward. They would face the Apocalypse Bringers for the right to become a Guardian, for in the Great Trials there was no other reason for living. The gauntlet had been thrown and the fly lord, Beelzebub, was to be his challenge. He was not alone, Dawnaria had also been chosen to face him; eager to prove her mettle in the air. Aside from her, a shifting thing on eight legs, Duskizen, was also called forth to challenge Beelzebub. The three soon went out to battle the fly lord in an open clearing, Beelzebub making jest at the trinity before him, plucking the spines on his rear as if to promise their purchase upon it’s hair barbed surface. Dawnaria wasted no time, taking to the skies and taking the battle to him, Beelzebub darting out of the way with ease before likewise zipping into the air. Duskizen disappeared, sinking in the shadows for a purpose unknown to the other two. Oakenrack noted these two extremes with disinterest, one waiting for opportunity, the other striving to force it; neither seemed to be having much luck. Oakenrack had driven the fly lord when he was two beings, now that he was one he had all the means to do so again. The forest stag rooted himself into the earth, expanding his territory and senses, feeling with the soil. The tree line expanded in a wave of green, shoots becoming saplings and saplings becoming trees that bombarded the soil with seeds to repeat the process. The garden grew about Oakenrack as the specialized flora took position and Oakenrack called to the fly lord. Seeing such a marvel filled Beelzebub with eagerness to take for his own, diving down to undo the hard labors. Oakenrack did not falter, standing his ground before the barrage of toxic stings that sparked across his stone form. The vines lashed and forced the fly lord lower, brush twirling serrated leaves coated with irritants as the fly lord passed even lower. A mine field of pollen exploded around Beelzebub, addling him and constricting the vents required for breath. Such natural spores of so many varieties was sickeningly sweet to the fly lord, fumbling around drunkenly in the air as Oakenrack called the treants to move, the trees growing toward the great white insect and seeking to entrap him in a constrictive cage of timber and thorns. The task was almost done…until a blast of white hot fire blew the cage to smithereens and sent the fly tumbling away through the flowers in a grass stained smear. The fire vaporizing the pollen and clearing the air, Beelzebub quickly sorted himself and took wing again, humming with amusement at two simultaneous failures with hardly any intervention on his part. Dawnaria, hot headed with tunnel vision, wanted the victory herself and had little idea that interfering had cost her a chance at success. Oakenrack had obtained a great deal of patience however and merely adjusted his plan of attack, as Beelzebub harried Dawnaria in the air, Oakenrack unleashed countless projectiles, exploding cones and paralyzing berries to harry the fly lord. But Beelzebub was far to agile in the air and weaved around the attacks near effortlessly. Dawnaria however did not, forced to expend energy tearing through the obstructions with waves of flame as the fly lord danced mockingly out of reach. At this point Oakenrack commanded the tendrils to tear great boulders from the soil and darken the skies with earth. Beelzebub buzzed about, mindful of the dangers and even using them as leverage as his clinging feet would catch the largest of them and ride them about before leaping away. Oakenrack saw the habit and adjusted his strategy again, sending rocks laden with explosive sap and wreathed in clinging roots to assault their foe. Beelzebub expected as much and used Dawnaria’s overzealous aggression to cause an explosive collision that sent her hurtling back to earth…directly into the garden. The ensuing detonation of flame tore up much of Oakenrack’s arsenal and Dawnaria was now battered from chasing a smaller target through a hail of deadly flora generated shrapnel. Beelzebub couldn’t help himself, making it worse by zipping through the flames and making the problem intensify by venting a massive swath of gas directly over Oakenrack, the ensuing explosion tore Oakenrack from his foundation.

The forest stag felt little in the way of pain but was outraged by the rapid loss of control over the situation. Beelzebub teased them now, zipping about the charred landscape as the two were now forced to face him in melee if they could catch him. Oakenrack retained the agility and speed of his bones, sweeping his antlers to rake at the insect. Dawnaria pounced and clawed, waiting for her wing to mend as billowing hot flames shot from her beak. But the fly lord was always one step ahead, leading their attacks into one another, striking when they recoiled, egging them on to try again. Such frustration wore down the stone of Oakenrack’s body, his antlers sizzling with the drenching puke of the fly lord’s acid. Dawnaria was raked with smoking splinters, toxic spines leaving bizarre flames to trail from her hide as her chimerical body fought to stay standing. The fly lord gloated, amused at such dysfunction. As the youngest of the three, he would have assumed that he would have the roughest time of it. Woe and behold how he so easily worked his foes against each other, truly priceless. Individually they might have succeeded, but together they undid all hope of succeeding. A demented gleam reflected from the compound eyes as he perched, his wings droning a wave of compulsive sound. The two kaiju struggled, Dawnaria the worse of it as the wave rippled through her body. Oakenrack attempted to drive the compulsion from his body but it crept its way into his mind and sung deep into his skull, his body faltering to respond. Beelzebub had saved the best prank for last, since they had made such a mess of the place, they could clean each other up instead of him doing all that unnecessary violence, he could make soup out of whomever was more intact after the fact. Salad or stew, which one would be more appetizing the fly lord wondered as he compelled the two to attack each other directly. Oakenrack’s body refused to budge but Dawnaria’s was under the fly lord’s spell, her flames beating the helpless stag and turning the stones red hot as Beelzebub continued to hum the acts of his morbid puppet show.

However, the fly lord had made a fatal error. His most powerful ability had forced him to land and cast a shadow upon the earth. Duskizen had played his hand well, lurking in the plane between light and darkness. Beelzebub found himself caught in a trap not of his own devising and dragged the spider into the sky to duel with a single minded fury that only insects and arachnids could indulge. Oakenrack could only watch as the two made a final clash before the thread was dissolved with acidic bile and both Shadow Weaver and fly lord were cast to earth. The ordeal had finally placed the white fly at their mercy and both Oakenrack and Dawnaria cut off all avenues of escape as Duskizen webbed the fly lord down. Victory was theirs. Gaia’s approval resonated within them and their trials had been vindicated. While Duskizen attempted and failed to get the last word, the fly lord leaving a ‘parting shot’ before flying off to observe the end of the battle concerning one of his elders, Oakenrack at last felt some measure of peace. They were brought before Gaia and given their guardianship. Oakenrack was made guardian of the forests, of all flora upon the earth and kindred of the soil. His influence would cover the world in fields of green, wherever conditions allowed the kingdom of growth to take root. He took watch of all creatures who took shelter beneath the boughs and through the seasons gave impression to time’s footsteps. His organic mortal kin would go wherever his forests grew, sacrifice hand and hand with reward as nature dictates.

His final task before the great age of ice was one of cooperation. Rainsha had come before him, to create a place where their wonders would be made and protected beyond the veil of the ever changing world. The new Guardian of Life was full of promise but also some measure of naivety. By then the stag had seen much, felt much in his own way. The squirrel was patient and persistent and eventually the Forest Warden agreed to aid her. Upon an island ever moving, veiled in electric storms and mist, Rainsha and Oakenrack made a mighty tree. This tree, so massive was it that Rainsha could easily nest within its boughs. The great oak was called The Tree of Life and it granted and preserved the gift of life for all those upon the island. Such rare things, Rainsha shepherded to the island, naming it Avalon. Oakenrack, his work completed, drifted into the deep forests of the west. There he faced the age of ice along with his brethren and like them he settled into the earth, to sleep and wait for a time when he would be needed again and to feel a heartbeat of crystal and stone. His presence can be felt subtly, but only those that know where to look. The Forest Warden dreams much, stirs little and figments of his dreams drift from the oldest forests and occasionally cross the paths of man…who remain woefully ignorant to the Arboreal Lord’s presence. For if such a time where his kingdom is greatly defiled and his bones begin to ache unbearably from the soil’s pain. Oakenrack shall rise again, and work of man shall see the fury of nature unleashed.

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A bit of an experiment this time. I didn't want to just show you the uncolored drawing of the Stats Pic which will be colored and sorted out soon. So to go along with the bio information, where I normally put the first design, I decided to do a bizzare cave painting add a visual to the story. Of course, this is my interpretation of a cave painting so it might be more advanced than an actual cave painting lol. Sorry for the extreme simplicity .

-RenDragonClaw