Encroaching darkness fills the silent pauses of my eternal watch. Where is the king? Who hears his voice? He is silent in his tall tower; its shadow stretches over all the land.
Darkness grows within my mind, and I know the end is soon. I have seen it in others ere now; see it now growing in me. All men must sleep—in due time, all fall asleep—but I am a watchman. I have a duty, to my land, my people, my king…but where is my lord? He has climbed the tower, and we hear nothing
I cannot stay awake longer. Where is my relief? Have I been forgotten?
Stalwart. March. Pass along the wall. Gaze into the outer darkness, the encroaching darkness. Gaurd the King’s tomb. Look into the darkness. Do not let death come near. March. March. March…
…it all fades…
…sleep…
…dream.
Tale Told 