Sent by the gods to sons of man, to both low-breeds and gentry,
To guard our lives, to keep us safe, to be our sacred sentry.
The giant he was of ancient race, the last one of his kind,
Who loved the nature's little folk, especially mankind.
No foe had crossed his guarded realm, he kept his blessed vow,
Until one day the darkness came, challenging him to bow.
A fight was fought and many fell, still evil sought advance;
Then giant's axe met demon's sword, they swirled in lethal dance.
The wretched blade did pierce the mail, inflicting mortal cut;
Smiting down the valiant guard, his eyes painfully shut.
Blood poured forth from open veins, he knew his end was nigh;
Where vital fluid did touch the soil, red blossoms sprouted high.