Rinnode

run along my little one
play beneath the dying sun
darkness falls and shadow creeps
huddle near, little one, huddle near
scale to rot and bone to dust
draping flags of a kingdom lost
huddle near, little one, huddle near
Now run along, little one
bask in the glow of our dying sun
until shadows once again creep
over this forsaken, rotting keep


Rinnode made it to Steadfast. He made it, yet stumbling and draped in rotting fabrics marked with the sigils of long-gone kingdoms. Rinnode made it to Steadfast, yet part of him was missing. And Rinnode opened a door, and a thing - less powerful than the one in Luce, yet still terrible, rushed into that empty place, making itself at home.
Rinnode is a half-thing, more dead than alive yet still shambling down sandy streets, scales dusty and scuffed and eyes burning red. Rinnode may be rotting, but at least it is alive