The ancient/forgotten/crumbling tomb stood shrouded in shadow/gloom/mystery, a silent sentinel against the passing/unyielding/eternal night. For centuries/eons/generations, it had held its secrets close, a repository of whispers/legends/tales that haunted/chilled/stirred the souls of those who dared approach. Now, as a cold/the biting/piercing wind swept/whistled/howled through the gaping/cracked/broken entrance, a sense of unease/foreboding/dread settled upon the landscape/ground/earth. Within, the dust/darkness/silence seemed to throb/pulsate/breathe, as if awakening/stirring/responding to some ancient/unspeakable/forgotten call.
Protectors of Eternal Slumber
They watch the limits of dreams, silent. These beings are bound to protecting the delicate balance among check here waking and the plane of dreamless sleep. Once a spirit become displaced, they will guide him back to the proper path. Their own histories are shrouded in enigma, recognized only to the few who venture to unravel the facts of the dreamless slumber.
Guardians of the Hush
The ancient/veteran/forgotten city sleeps. Its streets/alleys/paths are silent/still/tranquil, covered/blanketed/obscured by shadow/darkness/night. But within its heart/core/soul, a select few watch/guard/stand. They are the Minders/Guardians/Protectors of the Silent City, bound/commited/dedicated to preserving/keeping/safeguarding its secrets/mysteries/truisms from those/creatures/beings who would exploit/corrupt/destroy it.
Their numbers/count/ranks are small/few/limited, but their resolve/dedication/courage is unwavering/immovable/boundless. They patrol/wander/drift the city's ruins/remnants/vestiges, listening/observing/watching for any sign/hint/indication of danger/threat/evil.
They are the last/sole/remaining hope/champions/shield of a lost world.
Tendrils of the Grave's Touch
From the depths ascend these strands, woven from the very soul of death. They seek the light, drawing them into the silent embrace of the grave. They are the moans of the lost, a haunting symphony that echoes through the heart of the world.
- heed| For these tendrils do not discriminate. They reach for all, innocent and wicked alike.
- Oblivion is the fate that awaits those touched by their grip.
- Resist| Only through unwavering strength can one shatter the link and escape the Touch'.
An Everlasting Vigil
The whispers ripple through the ether. A presence ancient, a force impenetrable, stands watchful against the currents of oblivion. This is the Undying Watch, unseen yet ever-present, guardian of the fragile harmony that sustains existence. Its calling transcends time and space, a solemn duty embraced by those who strive themselves to its light.
For ages untold, they have remained, guarding against the encroaching shadows. Their legion a mystery whispered only to those who sincerely seek their way.
Below the Weeping Willows
A gentle breeze whispered through the leaves of the willow trees, casting dancing shadows upon the soft, emerald ground. The air hung heavy with the scent of honeysuckle and damp earth. A lone figure, cloaked in a dark blue robe, sat beneath the willows' reaching branches, their gaze fixed upon the serene waters of the pond.
Their face, half hidden by a hood, betrayed glimmers of deep sorrow.
A tear, unexpected, traced a path down their cheek, disappearing into the folds of their robe. The willow branches swayed gently above them, as if in sympathy.
They remained there for what seemed like an eternity, lost in their thoughts, the weeping willows sharing a peaceful haven from the world.