The Protectors

The Intro

Oh shit. How the hell did I get stuck in this and how did things get so bad? Why did I have to read that book and get involved in this? Now we’re all going to die.

But I guess I better tell you who I am. My name is Billie Joe, as in Billie Joe Armstrong, as in the front man of Green Day who plays the guitar, sings, and writes most of the songs. If you’re going to fantasize and drool over me, please just go away. I’m not in the mood and would gladly kill you.

Today is probably the toughest day of my career. No, I’m not talking about being in Green Day, I don’t consider it work. I’m talking about the career I’ve had for the past thirteen and a half years. Back in the April of 1993, I finally became a Protector.

You’re probably confused right now, so let me explain first how the Protectors came about since I guess that’s what I’m supposed to do. At least that’s how a whole lot of stories start out, the background info first, the important and exciting stuff is later.

Some centuries ago, back in the thirteenth century, Vlad Dracula grew tired of Transylvania and decided to relocate in England. Yes, I do mean Dracula as in the famous vampire Dracula. He liked it in England better and became a lord over a province. There he preyed on the people, causing an absolute epidemic, turning some to follow him. It began to get way out of hand as his province grew and nobody could figure out the cause of so many deaths.

Then William Armstrong, a semi-famous bard, traveled to Lord Dracula’s province. He was staying at the castle having been cordially invited. Of course, Dracula was being nice to his little late night snack for some time eventually. Some others were also staying there: five royal knights come to investigate the mystery, a scholar, and a merchant who were all English like William; another merchant, a lord, and a carpenter from France; and a few others from Germany, Spain, Portugal, and Italy along with a person or two from Ireland and Poland.

Lord Dracula was saving them all for a special purpose. He would turn them and bind them to him in a way that they would never be able to break. He would then send them back to their respective homes, and they would convert many to follow him, thus helping him take over the world having so many minions.

One night, though, William had performed for Lord Dracula privately in his chambers. He couldn’t help but notice the lord’s apparent anticipation and overwhelming happiness. When he left Dracula’s chambers, he couldn’t help but pause outside his door as a man who he recognized to be Lord Dracula’s advisor or something went in to talk with the lord. William eavesdropped, although it was very unlike him. What he heard, though, made him glad that he had: Dracula was going to turn them tonight.

When William heard this, at first he almost dropped his lute in shock. Luckily he caught himself in time and knew he had to warn the others who were staying. So, William went back to the rooms where he and the others were staying, going through his head ideas of how to tell them and how to make them believe.

When he arrived in the room where they usually reclined and talked together having become friends over the weeks they had spent there, he forgot all of his thinking and blurted out, “He’s going to kill us!”

All of them knew English, including the foreigners who had learned enough to get along in England. One of the knights came up to him and asked him what he meant. William told them that Lord Dracula was a vampire and probably was on his way now to turn them so he could use them. At first they doubted him, common sense telling them there could be no such thing as vampires, that they were only figments of imagination, but then they remembered that William was always honest and would never make up something as grand as this. Putting their trust in him, they prepared for the lord’s visit, calling on their memory of the tales about the monsters they were told when they were children to make them behave.

When there was a knock at the door and it was opened, Lord Dracula stood in the doorway. He entered the room and shut the door behind him before grinning in a way that displayed his fangs dramatically. They had always been smaller in the presence of those in the room at other times, but now he showed them off. Then the carpenter drove a wooden stake through his back, piercing his heart. Where he stood was just a pile of ash. And with that, Dracula was killed.

After having had an encounter with something that was considered fantasy and seeing the effects on humans, the group of people in that room decided that they would try to keep the balance between humans and other creatures and things of legend from getting too out of whack like it had been happening with Dracula. They called themselves the Protectors due to William’s suggestion.

I guess that’s where I got the bad naming skills from. My band’s name is the worst in rock history ever. You see, William is my great-great-great-great-great-great, well, you and me could be here for a while or I could just say many times great-grandfather.

So back to the infomercial. “The Protectors” each started a logbook, logging in events that had to do with their job. Some told their family and friends, some didn’t. All but one had kids and they all passed the logbook down to their youngest if they had a kid when they thought that they were going to die, otherwise giving it to a trust friend. Hopefully the kid would be old enough to continue the job or that the others would be able to make up for it in the meantime. The Protectors were spread out and they kept a lot of things from happening that would have thrown the world into absolute chaos.

So now the painful part of explaining is over with. Now you know who the Protectors are. And just in case you were wondering, William died due to a horse kick to the head. Yeah, doesn’t sound that fantastical. I mean, he could’ve had his throat torn out by a werewolf, a vampire could’ve sucked his blood, a centaur could’ve shot him, a giant could’ve squashed him, a fairy could’ve slit his throat. But no, he got a horse kick to his head. But a werewolf did scare it, so it really isn’t that boring.

That was the introduction, and if you didn’t like it, you can just go shove it up your ass. This is the story of my life, and if you don’t like it, there’s the door. Goodbye, and good riddance.