Topic: My Fallen Kingdoms

NightRunner

Date: 2009-05-22 16:55 EST
My Fallen Kingdoms

"Hello, Teacher, tell me, what's my lesson?
Look right through me,
Look right through me."
--Tears for Fears; Mad World







He was glad the Relic still stood untouched.

If he was honest with himself, Renne didn't want to leave this place -- even as a memorial to the dead, it was his place. His solace, his one place no one could find nor damage nor take away.
The taint of insanity didn't exist here.
The fickle shadows of Human behaviour didn't matter here.
With the same reverence as in years past, Renne stayed within the little glen, exploring every nook and cranny. He knew its every inch but it didn't matter -- the earth smelled and felt different here.
The water crashing from above roared the same, constant roar and the black stone remained smooth. Renne's mind drifted back to the ancient days when he could stand upright. When he was stronger and untainted by the falls of disloyalty or even the tears of tragedy.

He dreamed.

-----------------

"You are not here. Where are you?"

There was nothing under his feet but sand and bone-dust. There was nothing above him -- no sky, no stars, no clouds, no sun, no moon. There was no breeze and no sound but his voice.
It didn't even echo.

"Where are you?"

He walked in this land. Like he used to, upright, straight and even tall. Like he used to be, he stood six feet and bore the grace as his hips rolled with each step. The land was flat, barren and utterly featureless. It was not a place he immediately recognised until Renne walked nearly a mile.
A long mile and many more lay around him, stretching in all directions.

It stood out on the landscape like a single tooth out of a dead mouth and he knew what that was without having to see it. Tall things in flat landscapes often changed the wind, changed the air. Changed the *feel* of the land beneath his feet.

The Tower promised refuge like it did before.

It was familiar as a welcome friend, beckoning him to come for tea. It was strange too, quiet and forbidding as it whispered of perfect isolation.
Isolation and a cup of tea.
He walked, striding toward the thing, listening and smelling the land around him. Renne had to, several times, turn and adjust his direction. Several times, he went right past the thing and when he finally ran face-first into it, he nearly wept.
This time around, "his" tower did not stand completely alone. His ears perked as they caught wind of a new, invading sound.
Around the tower, on the left, water sloshed and the drenched sound was identified.

It was a masonry sponge.

"Bob, hand me that, will you?"

What in...?

He rounded the corner; left hand trailing expertly along the rough stone. A pair of Human men turned their heads up in utter confusion. One smelled of tobacco and the other smelled of lye and stone dust.
The men stared at him, then without a word, picked up their buckets and walked away.

Renne didn't call after them.

The tower beside him stood firm and when he searched, found the one entryway, the tower admitted him inside its darkness.

--------------

Renne screamed himself awake.

He knew the dream from once in years past and shuddered. The days inside his tower were days he had never spoken of, even voluntarily remembered. What was there to remember?
Solitude?
Tea with shadows and ghosts?
The tower still stood but unlike the Relic here, it was unprotected and exposed to the elements. By now, Renne figured, it'd be little more than a ruin somewhere far to the North-West of here. It wasn't someplace he visited.
He left its ghosts to lie.

As Renne turned to take leave of his place, he questioned whether or not he ought to. He questioned what he had left to go back to -- he doubted any would wait for him.
The precedent was set for that already.
Still, there were those few left out there. He thought of them and wept as he parted from the one place no one in this Multiverse could touch.

NightRunner

Date: 2009-05-23 01:33 EST
My Fallen Kingdoms
To Kill a King

"Now I know how to kill a king
I tore down the boundaries, took off the ring."
--Hungry Lucy; To Kill a King







The chaos beyond the Glen was on him like a pack of starving wolves.

Heavy, dense air enveloped him as he passed into the woodland reaches beyond his place. It wasn't like fog but it was not smoke either. It was thicker somehow, cloying in its scent.
It seemed to take everything like a kudzu vine unchecked, drifting as angry ghosts around him. Renne crawled in the fog and for a while, only felt the discomfort of its cloying scent and utter thickness. He'd been in mausoleums before but this was somehow ridiculously beyond even that. It was open, outside. It was close and thick.

He decided to play games with the fog.

Proudly, Renne dressed in one of his downsized captain's coats and put on the hat that was too large for his head. He found a suitable aspen stick and fashioned it into a decent toy cutlass.
And then, Renne and the fog were in the thick of an epic battle.

"En garde, little beast!"

He imagined the fog throwing retorts as he battled the imaginary adversary. Renne probably would never admit it but, gods, this felt good.
It felt good to at least pretend he had the upper hand on something. He could be a pretend-hero in a pretend-world of fog beasts, pirates and slavers. He smiled and took down another fog-bound enemy when something crept into his realisation.

The ground under him wasn't woodland-wild. It was the wood and cobblestone of a port-town.
Strange.
And utterly, predictably mundane.
He noted the sound of the sea and the lovely flapping of sail in the wind. Renne knew he was nto where he ought to be -- he ought to be back on the Tanar'ri Alus -- where he was now however, was yet a mystery.
Curiosity and play melding into one, Renne blundered carefully along these new docks, playing Pirate Hero with any barrels or crates he ran into. With his hat too large and hanging over his face, renne fancied he might be the Dashing, Debonair Hero.
Errol Flynn might have only been proud.

He noticed he wasn't alone a moment too late.

Renne's game had taken him all over this port and at least aware of where he was, he knew he was halfway up the gangplank of a ship. Even in his game of Pirate, things had to be respected. So, he did what he knew to do -- Renne turned and saluted.
The Female voice was heard only once across the gangplank.

"Another crazy one. Deal with it, will you?"

She did not say specifically how and Renne wasn't prepared.
The lone Male nodded, growled and watched the blue oddity for a moment as Renne took off his plumed hat. Renne wanted a better scent of the air, a better gauge of the emotions around him before he did something utterly foolish.
When that hat came off however, the Human male strode forward too quickly to allow a reaction. The Human gave Renne a once-over, grinned and said not a word. He turned and stopped directly in front of what was apparently his Captain's cabin door.

The next thing Renne was aware of was a boot-dagger being used to pin him there like a new Spring decoration.

---------------

Fire.

He was convinced there was a cold, searing fire burning in his latticed ribcage.
The Human that had stuck him there still scrubbed at his face, groaning from the pain -- Renne had reacted the only way he could upon being pinned up here. He spat and gave the stranger a faceful of spit that was slowly eating the Human's flesh off.

He felt the cold fire spread through his chest and the slow heaviness in the lower section of his single lung. Somewhere in his mind, Renne almost hoped the Human might learn his lesson in quickness of judgment. However, as this thought came, his awareness wavered.
Renne didn't hear the mysterious Female voice speaking angrily about using living creatures as wall hangings.

------------------

Renne woke up next on the doorstep of a brightly decorated place that, while he was unaware of the prominent *red* decor, he could hear from outside that this building was someplace commonly open only after dark.
He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

NightRunner

Date: 2009-05-25 14:27 EST
My Fallen Kingdoms
Through the Squalls
*Warning! Some graphic material due to the nature of medical anatomy.*

"But I will preserve the purity of my life and my arts."
--Hippocratic Oath; Translation







The red place was by now, far away.

His journey had been a long one, figuratively and not. The wrappings around his middle stayed in place but Renne soon discovered what happened if his posture wasn't kept just so.
For the sixth time that day, Renne stopped and carefully lifted a hand to probe against his front and left side. Renne knew his own biology well enough and was at first pleased when he found most of his latticed ribcage intact.
That smile disappeared soon enough.

The criss-crossing lattice of bone gave an ominous crunch and gave way. Hot ice lanced through as he felt shards of bone slide into the soft tissue of his single lung. The reaction from that was a violent moment of harsh, deep hacks.
When the spell ended, Renne was painfully aware of the support the crude binding provided. he was all too aware of the tearing hole in the left side of his lung. Bone fragments floated in a growing internal pool and Renne found it hard to let his back arch naturally.
He didn't dare let his hips roll either.

The imp carried on.

Thoughts of 'Nathan, Cinder, the Tanar'ri Alus and Archie floated through his mind. Renne entered Rhy'Din City with his back straight, gait stiff and his mind on a thousand things at once.
He wanted to give Archie a birthday gift.
Duty called him to the Alus.
Emotion cried for home lost.

Renne crawled into the Red Dragon Inn for a cup of coffee.

---------------------

The warmth of the day felt good on him.

It was a feeble warmth, but warmth nonetheless. Renne crawled stiffly under the sun and followed an honoured ritual. The beach-sand under his feet, the sea air tickling his nose -- it all came back to him and he crawled from one empty place to another.
Renne was stalling and he knew it.
Fool.
As Renne found himself running into a familiar little rockpile, the impact forced what breath he had out of him. Violent coughs from him soon painted those rocks with a speckling of silvery blue. He felt a heavy wetness put an uncomfortable weight in his chest.
When the disturbing bout ended, he heard within his mind a slew of voices -- some of them gently chastising and one howling with laughter.
-You cannot survive without me.-
Seek assistance. It is logical.
-See how you falter? The Humans....-
Logical. Logical...

Renne growled at the darker voice within his head. He knew he still had yet to purge the monstrosity from within but he knew he did not yet fully understand it. It was not entirely borne of anger. Was it? He wasn't sure.
The other whispers, he knew and heard. They spoke of logic and its harmony with the will to survive. They told him he was not alone.

The blue creature made his faithful round and stopped at the bare-place. He frowned and shook his head as if to scold it for being empty. It shouldn't be empty -- It shouldn't be a bare place of windswept earth, but who was he against the fickle will of Humans?
He heard a sarcastic, disdainful whisper in his mind then. Logically, true, he should know better than to trust anyone in Rhy'Din at his word, much less any Human. Still, Renne banished the thoughts and imagined other things as thin trails of blue began to stream down his front and his back.
Impending delirium over reality was a bit too tempting.

Renne turned away and crawled into the city.

His gait became steadily slower, stiffer and he found it harder to just let himself breathe. Castigating voices in his mind spurred him on and he thought about his hero-doll.
When he found the Riverview, he missed the door by a good nine feet. Renne didn't chirp at the wall as his face met with it. He simply slid against it and wondered if he ought to get another tattoo.

His last waking thoughts were of the few voices he had left before he hit the ground.

NightRunner

Date: 2009-06-28 19:25 EST
My Fallen Kingdoms
Of London Fires

"An old man by a seashore
At the end of day
Gazes the horizon
With seawinds in his face
Tempest-tossed island
Seasons all the same
Anchorage unpainted
And a ship without a name."
--Nightwish; The Islander








Renne learned quickly what drowning felt like.

Honestly, his most recent memory had been of that slow, painful sensation and rationality telling him to get to a place of healing. He recalled doing that, vaguely. He also recalled missing the door, failing to complete that task somehow.
Confusion had been evident through the slow-burn weight growing in the lower left section of his chest. Fear had become by now a familiar visitor and when he realised he hadn't made it to the door, Renne almost wept. He had a healthy fear of death on his own standards and had come close to it before. He had learned over the years that few, if any life-forms at all understood what "death" meant to him.
He wasn't like a Human that could resurrect itself with the right connections or the right knowledge. He wasn't an Elf or Dragon or Fae that had little to fear from death.

Unlike all of them, Renne did not, apparently, have a soul.

Idly as he lay there, he wondered what a soul was and how it contributed to the life of Humans.

--------------

The summer sun woke him gently from a dreamless stupor.

The first thing he noted was the strange wetness of the ground beneath him. Renne carefully sat up and registered the same near-wetness covering him from the belly up. The thinness and the smell told him what it was -- water splashed with his own blood but that was in its own way, good.
He took a few careful breaths and smiled. The lung was clear even if it and his ribcage still ached. Renne said a brief prayer to thank all the gods he worshipped, for he knew his own body well enough to know its limits.
He had been lucky.
Now however, it was time to go back.

Renne heard the same duality-laced voices in his head as he crawled away from the building he'd reached. They whispered, laughed, sneered, comforted and frightened him -- none of that was supposed to be in his head and he knew it.
The road back down to the Eastern Docks took him to the barren stretch of beach he'd kept watch over all these years. The spot where a bonfire was lit and marshmallows toasted beget a smile from him. The patch of ground that had destroyed much received as it always did, tears. A pile of rocks some ways down earned a reflective expression as he remembered a conversation so long ago.
You've been good to me...

The voice sounded in his head again as Renne moved up the beach and to a barren place on the ground.

Renne slept there for two nights and on the third morning, he left it with a mark. He turned south and marked it with not only his scent but a small talisman with it.
It meant he would come back as he always did.
It meant he would know when joy returned.?