Sentinel, his rusty armor, and stuff.
Okay, I wasn't planning on continuing this thing. But since everyone seemed to like it so much, here's part two!
Dullahan: I was supposed to be the star of this story! You will pay for this! (grabs Pureauthor and tosses him out of the window)
Carl: Now you've done it. How are we supposed to start the story without the author?
Dullahan: He'll be better off if the story was never continued!
Fizz: Indeed. His writing skills suck. We shouldn't expose the public to this torture!
Carl: (sighs) Fine. I'll do it.
Wxsswernfrv5goinlwxeokl
Carl: Jeez, it's hard to type with paws.
Author: (climbs in through the window) Ow.
Dullahan: You haven't learnt your lesson? It's the gallows for ye!
Calis Wraithson: (casts Frost Nova on Dullahan)
Author: Thanks.
Calis Wraithson: Don't bother. He was interrupting my game.
Author: Whatever. (seats himself at the computer) Let's start!
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Sentinel crouched low, thinking. He certainly had more than enough time to do so. Over ten thousand years as a tablet guardian and no one had bothered to show up. They were all so interested in that Dullahan chap. Oh well, at least it allowed him some measure of privacy to do the things he did. Such as now. Which was mainly ponder about his existence, and his purpose of being. Hey, GameBoy Advances were still about twelve thousand years in the future. Not to mention batteries.
He was still wondering. Being, in essence, a golem, it was not in him "forget" anything. Ever. He still remembered the day two thousand years ago he had asked that living armor out for a date. After getting clonked on the head by her axe, he had promptly armor crushed her into oblivion, and spent the better part of one month crying over various pieces of metal. Love was a strange thing.
In any case, his perfect memory allowed him to remember the day of his creation. He had been brought to life by several people rapidly pressing several buttons on a gray tablet. After that, he had been given his task, which was, in essence, to guard the summoning stone behind him until the end of time, and slay any who was fool enough to enter. Only they hadn't quite put it that way. They explained it to him more along the lines of "sidequests" and "optional bosses". The powers-that-be worked in strange ways.
Standing, he winced as his armor squeaked and groaned in protest. It wasn't fair. Dullahan had all sorts of furniture, a freakin' TV, a lifetime subscription to "Home improvement for Headless Homicidal Maniacs", and Sentinel wasn't even provided with armor polish. He hated his life, and at time wished that he could just end it. Sadly, the fact that he was nigh-invincible reared it's ugly head time and time again. Chopping off his head was out-of-the-question. His helmet blocked all sorts of attacks, physical or whatnot. Jumping off a building to try and kill himself was marred by the fact that he had already done so twice and hadn't even been aware that he'd hit the ground yet. His armor sometimes worked TOO well. The fact that he was immune to psynergy also blocked out the ability to fry himself with Spark Plasma and Searing Beam
Then there had been the time he'd tried to drown himself. Trekking to the tallest cliff in all Osenia, he'd jumped off into the raging ocean far below him, and was lost beneath the endless waves. Two years later, he emerged dripping wet on a beach near the town of Yallam and had been forced to hitch a ride back to Islet Cave. Well, how was he to know he didn't need to breathe? His temper wasn't helped by the fact that when he returned, he had found that SOMEONE had stolen the tablet, and had learned how to summon Bahamut. To this day, he hadn't been able to find the culprit, although there were several turtle-shaped footprints in the area.
Contacting his masters, he had informed them of his failure, and understandably, they were not pleased. After providing him with the replacement summon "Ramuh", they had warned him not to be so friggin' careless next time. And he hadn't. He had patrolled the cavern endlessly until one day, he had tripped on a pebble and had fallen headfirst onto the tablet, smashing it into dust. His superiors had once again worked their magic to create the summon "Catastrophe" and warned him that if he screwed up one more time, he would be "deleted from the beta". He had no idea what that meant, and he didn't want to find out. He had guarded the summon with his life, and it was the new tablet that was currently a couple of feet behind him.
A few days later, he was challenged in the dark of the night. He didn't get a good look at his attacker, but it seemed to have a shell of some sort. It had apparently used the summon Bahamut against him. Which hurt a lot more than anything else he had known in his life. After contacting his masters about this, they had once again explained it, this time going off on a longwinded conversation about "balance" and something about prevention of "overpoweredness". Halfway through the lecture, he decided that if he wanted to maintain some sort of semblance on his sanity, he would have to cut off the conversation. Which he did, mainly by yelling that he'd forgotten to take the turkey out for a walk. He had no idea what that meant. But it worked.
He was still wondering about how a few days later, he'd been landed with a form that berated him for not possessing a license to own pets. Handling it in his unique way, he had remailed the message back to it's original sender, with a pissed-off Chimaera worm inside the envelope. A few weeks later, the worm had returned to the cavern, this time covered with blood splatters. At least the mails about pet licenses had stopped. Unfortunately, the mails about "1st-degree murder" and whatnot started arriving. He had practically emptied the Islet Cave of Chimaera worms to reply with, and a couple of weeks later, a last mail informing him that the "Royal Navy Marines Corps" would be paying a visit to his cave arrived. He was still wondering about all those screams outside his room, continuously punctured by growls from the Cruel Dragons, squawks from the Wonder Birds, hisses from the Gruj's, and well… nothing from the Chimaera worms. They didn't have vocal chords.
Then, before his startled eyes, eight adventurers arrived in the room. After staring at him for a few minutes, one of them, a young sandy-blonde haired individual cleared his throat and asked what exactly this place was. Sentinel, not very sure of the speech he had been assigned with, launched into his own monologue.
" I guard the powers of the wind. If you want the ability to summon Baha- er, I mean Ram- dammit, I mean Catastrophe, prove your worth!"
A young blonde boy, barely fifteen, stepped forward, and with a cry, he unleashed a blast of Spark Plasma on Sentinel, eyes widening when he saw the electrical blasts bounce harmlessly off his armor plating. With a smirk, he utilized Armor Crush on the young individual, smiling in satisfaction as the lad flew backwards to crumple against the wall like a toy.
A second later, he hissed in pain as the Sandy-haired boy unleashed a Djinni on him. Flint, most likely. He was about to reply with a sword swipe when he realized that the blow had completely separated his sword arm from his body. Whirling to the smiling boy, he hissed in anger.
" A mere flesh wound!" He proclaimed, before blasting the boy away with a concentrated Searing Beam. The sandy-haired kid groaned before slumping to the floor like the young lad. He was about to continue the attacks on the rest of the party when he noticed two females staring in the general direction of the unconscious lads. One was blonde, and just about the same age as the first lad, while the second had a shock of blue hair and a gentle complexion
"I-Ivan?"
"ISAAC-CHAN!"
Then, the two females had turned to him, and- well, he wasn't sure WHAT happened. Later, he described it as a mix of a hurricane, a tornado, and a typhoon hitting him at the same time. The only thing he knew at the moment, however, was that he had just suffered through more pain then any sentient being had any right to endure. And as his severed head stared up at the ceiling from his current vantage point on the blue-haired one's staff, he had only one thing to say:
"Owie."
