DEFINITION: v. tr. To be so overly protective about a person or object, that you become completely possessed by the fear of what could go wrong. n. A person who is so worried about protecting something that they smother it with their own fears.

Sentimentinel

Created by: Banky

Pronunciation: sint-ih-mint-ih-null

Sentence: Traversing the Lava Swamp on the back of a reticulated magma scorpion had been difficult. The Caverns of Nag, haunted by the aimless spirits of twelve thousand mothers had tested his will and fortitude. Andariel abruptly yanked his claymore free from the still trembling mountain of Skaat the Incontinent Dragon and lost his balance, plate armor protesting with loud clanks as he tumbled into one of the many piles of fewmets littering the lair. The curse he began to spit died at his lips, for he knew his most challenging quest still lay ahead. Days passed without sleep or sustenance as he stumbled across the barren landscape of Craetoria. He first saw the tower at the end of the fifteenth day, silhouetted against the blood red sky, and it grew steadily larger in his vision until he staggered across the drawbridge to the wrought iron door as dusk approached. He mustered his strength and drew his sword, prepared for the attack of whatever would meet him. The door issued a loud resonanting vibration when Andariel struck it with the jeweled hilt of his weapon, and he reentered his battle stance. A low moan emitted from the hinges as the monolithic door began to swing open, slowly revealing a short balding man with an unkempt moustache and a mustard stained sweater-vest. "You must be Andy!" the unimposing man cheerily offered along with his hand. Andariel slowly lowered his guard and shook, his gauntled hand dwarfing the man's miniscule paw. "Come in! I'm Threwynn's father, Herb, it's nice to meet you." He strained to close the door behind him and deposited Andariel on the nearest divan. "I'll go check and see if she's ready." He started to head for the chiseled tower steps before turning back into the room and appraising his guest. "You look like you've had a rough journey, can I get you a flagon of mead to pass across parched lips?" he eagerly asked. "That would be most generous," rasped the knight. The room burst into an electric blue explosion and an acrid stench of brimstone as the shrewish man erupted into the looming shape of a sentimentinel. A voice of low rolling thunder pounded Andariel against the cold rough walls, crumpling his armor and crushing his bones, as felt more than heard what the demon intoned. "Foolish drunken sot. You will never be good enough for my princess. You have failed the test." Andariel reached for his shield, but he was too late. Tears streaming down Threwynn's porcelain face soaked into her stuffed bear, Irwin. Herb gently stroked her back and hair, shaking his head in empathy. "Why won't they at least send a messenger, daddy? How can they be so cruel as to make me think they like me, then never show up?" He drew her into his arms, and consoled her, "Boys at this age are just horrible beasts. I'll go get dinner ready, sweetheart, come down when you're hungry." The sobbing stopped for a moment as he exited, "What are we having?" she croaked. "Veal. Quite fresh, I had it delivered not a half hour ago." Herb quietly shut the door and headed to the kitchen.

Etymology: Sentinel + sentimental

Points: 905

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