Guardians by Design - Land

Planting the Plant

Ermun sleepily clung to his branch, patiently watching the Guardians attempt to figure out what they were looking at. Voices barely audible, he was unsure if their guesses were even close in accuracy. Small streaks of blue were projected from each of the Guardians; none of them decipherable.

Must be them… Ermun thought. He was surprisingly impressed with the Designer’s work; nothing Ohmlur had turned out from his table showed these kinds of results. Ermun had heard tales of animals from different regions of the world achieving similar traits, but nothing of this land walked or moved quite like this generation of Guardians. Ermun beamed at the uniqueness. It was these examples of specimens that reinforced why he had remained faithful to Ohmlur, and inspired him to stay at his side through these difficult stints of time.

“No, that’s not going to work,” he said mockingly after the bison presented Ohmlur’s arm to the hot spring.

The other three waited, anticipating a reaction from the appendage. The ram seemed to be frustrated with the lack of action, and yelled at the arm presented to the spring. Stronger bolts of blue lightning were projected from his face with force.

The only interesting part of trailing a group of Guardians was witnessing what they chose to be ‘a unique place of power that represented the land’. Many generations had chosen fields and forests; those were the obvious ones, and generally worked just fine in quenching the appendage’s thirst for power. Ermun was impressed that this group, however, had chosen some of the more obscure locations, such as the hot spring. Ermun was curious as to why the arm did not draw power from the unique spot as well, and wondered if it had something to do with his family interfering…

Ohmlur had to rotate the appendages throughout generations. Most parties only lasted one trip or less, after all… Should he always start with his land-based appendage, it would become much more powerful than the other three that shriveled away at home, unattended to.

Ermun had known reclamation to be the most difficult. Every group assigned to it had struggled greatly with satisfying the flaming appendage. Not because there was a lack of destruction within in the region, but the physical feats required for harvesting the element were usually fatal. The Designer had only been successful with one species that was not only resistant to, but able to harness the act of reclamation. However, the creature had quickly become impossible to control. Due to the wild nature and unpredictable shifts in mood of the creation, Ohmlur concluded that the element of reclamation was best left separated from his fauna projects.

The Guardians were moving. They were headed towards a river – nearly out of Ermun’s sight. He cursed silently to himself at the thought of following them on foot. The wind was low currently; unable to sustain his weight for extended distances.

Moments before he dropped himself to the ground below, a gust rushed over the peak of the ridgeline from which he monitored the group. Just in time, he thought, then released his grip. His long, thin extremities flailed lightly in the breeze as he was rushed to the base of the cliff.

Nestled behind a sage brush large enough to conceal the sloth, Ermun watched the Guardians rehydrate themselves. Something in the distance had caught the attention of the bison. A herd of his species from a previous life, in fact.

A sensation pressed on Ermun’s shoulder, like a beast resting its chin. He whipped around to find nothing. Then the pressure again. This time on his opposite shoulder, like someone was attempting to gain his attention in a noisy atmosphere. It was more of a press, though, than a gentle tap. As a wave of exhaustion passed over him, his eyelids grew too heavy to keep open. I can’t sleep now! The sun has barely set, and the group could move again. It hasn’t even been long since I last slept… The thoughts trickled slowly though his mind before drifting off into a deep slumber between fragrant sage brush.

The world around him shifted. Surrounding trees and plants slowly melted away as if suddenly shrouded in bright fog. The very brush he had used to conceal himself disintegrated, leaving him exposed. Should the Guardians turn around, it would be obvious he was laying there, watching them. Other species of fauna – many that had been extinct for millennia – replaced the silhouettes of the Guardians. Ermun groaned loudly, realizing he was shifting into the Coppice yet again.

“Do you know him?” a feminine voice just over Ermun’s shoulder asked desperately.

Ermun tumbled to his left side out of fright. He hadn’t heard anyone approaching. How was it so easy for someone to sneak up on him? His physical body remained lying right beside him, where he had fallen asleep.

“No wait! I can’t hurt you. I need your help…” The silhouette of a bison stood before him, hanging her heavy head. Her horns stood rigidly vertical, with a slight outwards curve at the top. “Do you know the young bison, near the river?”

Ermun turned to ensure the group was still by the river, finding they were no longer visible. The river they had drank from was no longer animated. An empty chasm cut through the land, standing as still as the valley surrounding it.

Ermun turned back to the bison. “Who? How do you know?” he asked, dumbfounded. Her brown eyes were wide with sorrow. Ermun imagined there would be a tear falling from them, should they be able to produce any.

“I can sense him. He’s here, isn’t he? You saw him – in the physical world. I haven’t felt his presence in a very, very long time,” the bison said slowly.

“The bison. Well yes, I suppose there is one,” he replied, unsure if she was referring to one of the Guardians or the herd further in the distance. “Who is he to you?”

“He is my son. Well, was my son. He was once a leader of my herd, but we have not roamed these lands in thousands of years,” she said, passing directly through Ermun to wander closer to the dry river. Her silhouette was surprisingly strong. Detailed and layered, the color of her fur was faint and discolored, but the textures were still prominent. The color of her eyes and definition of her horns impressed Ermun. He didn’t typically come across apparitions that were so easily identifiable, yet still surrounded by the same shimmering outline.

He supposed it was a testament to her species; the bison. Because she came from such a healthily populated, dominant species that still roamed the physical land in abundance, her representation in the Coppice was sound. Ermun deduced this species still had a good chance of returning to the physical world, due to a plethora of hosts. Must be nice, he thought enviously, to have a chance of returning to your family to embrace them.

“Dahj…?” Ermun asked softly. He was previously unaware of the fact that the chosen bison had been a leader during a previous existence. It made sense, however. Nature typically choses strong figures.

“Yes!” she exclaimed, quickly turning. “So, he is here… I knew it. But how?”

“Well, heh.” Should Ermun’s body hold blood, his cheeks would have flushed. He couldn’t divulge too much information about the Designer, and the purpose of the Guardians being returned to the land under certain stipulations.

“That is why I am following them! We… I am not exactly sure. They are clearly a blessed breed,” Ermun lied. Not that the cow would be able to act on spilled information, but Ermun simply didn’t have time to explain the entire history of the Designer to the worried bison. The Guardians could wander off at any moment.

“There’s more?”

“Well, I don’t know. That is why I need to investigate further!” Ermun realized he was only providing her with more questions than answers. He needed to move soon if he wanted to stay on their trail.

The cow pressed further with her queries. “How are you able to pass back and forth? I don’t know of anyone else that can do that. You are special, sloth.”

“You could see me? Just lying there?” He had never realized he was visible in the Coppice while phased into the physical world.

“Well yes, I saw you watching him. I can tell you have some sort of gift. Oh, how I wish you could teach me,” she whined. “Can you… can you do me a favor?”

Ermun was growing irritated. He didn’t have time for this, but pitied the bison. He of all species knew what it was like for families to be separated between the physical world and the Coppice.

“He is troubled. I can sense it,” the cow said. “He doesn’t know how, or when he died. His spirit is broken. I have searched for him in the Coppice for hundreds of years, astonished that I never found him. He fell long before I or any others in the herd, after all. Upon arriving here, I assumed our paths would cross eventually. They never did.”

“Now, I find him here! Much further south than the lands our herd used to roam. How? Why? It’s like he was trapped in an existence in-between the physical world and the Coppice. Well, now he’s back… and traveling quickly. I fear his soul is lost. Please, assist me in revealing to him how he died. Perhaps then he will achieve peace and join us in the Coppice.” The bison wept dry tears.

Various animal passed as the cow presented her hypothesis, pausing to listen. Perhaps they, too, had lost loved ones. Her anecdotal tale was stressful; convincing the eavesdroppers that they would experience a similar destiny of wandering the Coppice for an eternity, tracking down lost family members. Ermun felt pity for her. He understood what motivated the mother. Losing a child must be hard, never rejoining them after passing over, however, must be devastating.

“What can I do to help? However, you must know, I cannot approach him directly. It will interfere with the study.” His statement wasn’t quite a lie this time, just purposefully vague.

“I have an idea. There are certain types of fungus with psychoactive properties that grow along the wooded area, just over there,” she said, gesturing her heavy head towards a densely populated tree line. “Please, procure some, then make sure he eats them. They are capable of unlocking some of the deepest recesses of the mind. I’m sure it will grant him the vision of his own death.”

The cow used her horns to point towards a patch of brightly colored mushrooms. An odd aura surrounded this class; more of a deep-orange than the blueish-white that typically surrounded the various species in the Coppice.

“But, how will I get it back? Wouldn’t they need to be picked in the physical world?” Ermun asked, questioning the rules of these different plains of existence. If this worked, couldn’t he just take any species he wanted back to the physical world to reintroduce?

“I guess we will find out! Why are you asking me, anyway? I thought you knew how these places worked. You’re the one able to pass back and forth!”

Ermun’s body hovered over to the fungus. Using his long, back claws he plucked it from the soil, then turned it over in his hands to inspect it beneath his squared, black nose. It was vibrantly intimidating. The fungus pulsated.

“Yes, that’s the one. A species more tailored towards memories rather than just augmented visuals. Although, that can be a common side effect… I do hope it doesn’t scare him too much,” she said as she followed Ermun towards the tree line.

“Heh, well, wish me luck. Should I be caught… who can I say sent me?”

“Hanla,” she replied flatly.

The bison’s voice was obscured by the sound of splashing water. Ermun blinked, then heard laughter. He squinted to look closer at Hanla’s mouth. Was she laughing? No… her mouth wasn’t moving. Although, mouths in the Coppice rarely did. He blinked again. This time, he opened his eyes to a sagebrush mere inches from his face. The sunlight blinded him for a moment as his eyes readjusted.

More splashing. Four heads bobbed from the river ahead of him. The Guardians had jumped in, perhaps to bathe or play. Ermun rolled to his side in despair, disrupting tall grasses and branches that were pushed aside. Transferring between the Coppice and the physical world can take a toll on one’s body, but it was the context of the visits that took a toll on his soul.

They’re distracted… This would make for a good opportunity to drop off the fungus… The fungus! Rolling to a prone position, he flailed his arms to scrape the soil around him, desperately searching for the item brought back from the Coppice. He wrapped his claws around something spongy and dried, just beneath his belly. It was the mushroom, but it had perished during the rough transition in existence.

Shriveled, black, and wrinkly – the scent was telling enough that it was the intended specimen. Some of the physical characteristics were still recognizable, but there would be no way to replant it; solidifying Ermun’s belief that species could not be simply yanked from the Coppice to the physical land. The psychoactive properties, however, may still be intact.