Tue Feb 23, 2010 5:22 am
The governor of Myrken Wood has become a distant figure over the last year. Distant, yet not unreachable, which makes him somewhat superior to many of his predecessors. Even so, since the birth of the Calomel baby, much of the day-to-day governance of Myrken Wood has fallen to a burgeoning bureaucracy. Central to that bureaucracy, a linking force, was Glenn Burnie, mapmaker, Surveyor, Judiciary Investigator, general nuisance to the privacy of the populace. His official power was certainly limited, even if it had been enhanced somewhat over the last two years. Unofficially, he knew everyone, knew everyone's business, and knew how they operated with one another. No one could say for certain exactly what he did, but whatever it was, it did help things run smoothly... probably.
Whatever it was, it had been missing for well over a week now. Burnie was apt to leave suddenly upon business of the province, but he always left notice and instructions to his staff. He always left word with the Governor, with fellow residents of Darkenhold, with Rhaena Olwak, and with the various swordsmasters that he trained with during any given week. This time none of them had heard a word of him leaving. Oh, there had been some discussion before his disappearance about a specific reemerged threat, but he was very specific about his intention to hold his ground. Rhaena's suggestion that they go into hiding for a time was met with frustrated disdain. In town, the only sign of anything amiss over the last week was the mysterious injuring of two Constables in a back alley close to the edge of the wall. When found, they were not in any condition to identify their assailants.
The business of government marched on. People picked up the slack, worked additional hours, and out of necessity, cooperated more directly than before. As the days continued on, however, there would continue to be no sign of Glenn Burnie.
Tue Mar 09, 2010 1:44 pm
There are lines one does not cross.
Except for of course, when it is absolutely necessary. Glenn Burnie's definition of necessity differs from the norm. He needs food, air, water. Just as much, he needs upward mobility, a chance to prove himself, a chance to prove others wrong.
Almost all of these things had been robbed from him over the last month. The eternal, insipid thorn in his side, his one worst enemy since arriving in Myrken, she who had caused him more pain and harm than anyone else, had struck once again. She had forced him into an impossible situation and he had chosen the least reasonable of all options.
That left him battered and adrift, a stranger in a world he did not make, a world in which he could not belong, a world in which Glenn Burnie and all that he believed in and represented was anathema. Lost in a land of darkness, he was a speck of light, a tiny annoyance to the very world in which he found himself chained.
For the first time in almost eight years, he did not have the option to run from his problems if he so desired. He did not have the option to stand in fight. He had freedom to do nothing but suffer.
And suffer he did, for days, for weeks. Every attempt to pull himself out was met with violence and disdain. It wore upon him, cruel laughter and crueler failure. By the time that an opportunity did arise, it was already too late for him. By that point it was no longer enough to survive, to escape. He had to prove her wrong. He had to prove them wrong. He had to prove this entire unholy society wrong.
Such notions only led to more failure at first. He refused to cross those lines; he refused to do what he had to... until he could refuse no more. He had endured weeks of being victimized and violated. The first violation he gave out in return was difficult. After that, it became easy. Even the first wasn't THAT bad, in all honesty. It was really just a repetition of what he had done to Jirai, and this time he was prepared, ready. There was no Dreamwaker this time. His target, as innocent a victim as anyone of her accursed race, fell with relative ease and he caught her, just as planned. From there, things went smoothly. He ingratiated himself, finally. He had a chance to show his worth, finally. He wormed his way into a position to begin to matter, just a little, finally.
It was euphoria, to be able to succeed where failure should have been inevitable, unassailable. Euphoria, right up to the point where his success would be set in stone. Right up until his initiation in the house, the final step, after which he had intended to finally plan his escape, one that couldn't fail.
The initiation. Some things should not be experienced by any human, by any man at all. For weeks he had been repressed by the darkness, down to his very soul, repressed but ignored and thus he was able to ignore it back. Now, if only for a moment, the darkness turned its eye upon him and for a moment, he was forced to stare back. The human mind was not meant to endure such things. His soul suffered. His very being, battered and beaten by the month of hell, by the two years of pain and loss, became frayed and tattered.
In the midst of it, miles and miles away and unnoticed by anyone at all, one beautiful peace of parchment, perhaps the most accurate map covering the largest part of the world to be found on the continent, hissed into ashes with no apparent cause at all.
And somewhere, deep beneath the surface, Glenn Burnie screamed.