Lom-Tete
It was through reading the chronicles of the tower that the secret box, that locked and dusty chest at the far back wall of his soul was revealed to him. Opening the chest he melded with the beam, and his Ka came to him as clearly as you read these words before your eyes. It was shown to him that he was Lom-Tete, the little guardian, the jolly stone man. He could never leave his home because there was something there he must watch over, whether the place itself or something thereabouts, the beam would not show him, for all things serve the beam. He could not be broken, not his body, the form represented in realspace was unimpressive, but through the beam, in the todash perhaps, he would shine and stand firm as the mightiest fortress. He needed no armor, he was covered in Ka, good Ka, though if there were a word for such he didn't ken it. Folded, hammered and forged impossible thick. You could break the stone man though, and he knew it just as the black did, it was clear as daylight, say true, you could see it in his chest. No hammer, gun, rocket or bomb could peirce that Ka, it'd be flung away like cotton against the wind, but his heart, you could see it dull under that shining Ka. The black could murder him with their acts through his eyes, or they could pour lies and hate in his ears that would run to that heart and snuff him like a candle. That was why he couldn't love, the black wouldn't let him, that was their weak picket line. The stone man knew though, the stone man understood and so in his secret heart, the sanctum that not even Gan can trespass, he sang, he danced, and made himself laugh until tears poured from his eyes. The stone man will only fall if Gan sends him to the clearing at the end of the path or he allows. No Discordia, that is the rallying cry.