Guardian of Dead Mans Lake

You're heading in that direction? What're your names, so I can have you in my prayers?

— Priest in Jekki

Summary

A long time ago two factions had lined their armies up, each standing on their side of a shallow lake. There they stood, neither wanting to make the first move, as attacking through the lake would likely spell death.

As the sun started to set, the armies started to become restless as they stood on the soft lake banks. Seeing this the leader in the west lit a fire and asked the gods for guidance. In the flames they could see words flicker past:

The one who holds the center of the lake by the zenith of the blood red moon shall hold it forever more.

Meanwhile the leader in the east walked into a clearing to meditate on what to do. As they sat there the winds softly carried the words:

Take the lake and be remembered forever more.

Spurred by these signs of the gods both leaders immediately stormed to the front lines. There they spoke with passion to their ranks and as they spoke restlessness was turned to fervor as the moon rose over the treetops coloured slightly red.

Then two armies marched towards each other with the leaders at the front. First through sand and water, then, as the first lines clashed, mud and blood.

Both armies pushed ever forward, the dead being pushed into the blood laiden mud by boots and shields. As time passed the front lines grew thin, but still no retreat was ordered or considered.

The leaders of east and west were embroiled in a duel. The sound of steel and leather bashing against each other, the only sound to be heard as the last soldier drowned in the glutinous mud.

As the moon, now as red as the mud of the lake, touched its zenith only one was still standing. Who it was could not be determined, but as they tried to free themselves the mud held on tight.

Soon the person gave up, accepting their cursed fate to be the lakes guardian as they sank beneath the muddy and bloody lakes surface.