The post from 2016 that also bears the tag crumbling is a good picture of Max :)
Crumbling We recovered as fast as we could, since Ben and I really didn't want to be dumped in the dark again, only this time with no light at the end of the tunnel and started moving. We backed up a little, and looked above our heads this time, only now realising that we'd been so focused on what was at eye-level that we'd completely neglected what was there. The buildings were gold-leafed or gold-plated, or whatevered all the way up, and some of them reached to four or five stories. Somewhere towards the middle of the city were twin spires, which suggested a church of some kind, or maybe a palace. The buildings off to our left -- without the sun I didn't remember which way was North -- were slightly lower and blockier, and those to our right seemed a little taller, spaced a little further apart and perhaps even looked like they were lighter somehow. As though they might just lift off and float up into the sky. "Right," said Ben, looking this way and that. "let's go to the right. I reckon that if someone's boarded up these buildings already then the solid ones will be harder to get into. If someone's got fancy arches and filigrees and poodles then it's going to be harder to board up, and they'll get lazy." "Poodles?" asked Jimmy. "Architectural term," said Ben, and there was just a fraction of a second where he glared at me, so fast I'm not sure Jimmy could have seen it, and I kept my mouth shut. For now. Ben, it seemed, was right as well; we turned off to the right and walked down a street that opened out into a small square with a gold-leafed fountain at the centre of it, and on the other side of the fountain we saw a building with a colonnade. Through the arches of the colonnade we could see a flight of stairs, and when we approached then we saw, just as we'd surmised, that they were made of the crumbling yellow stone that paved the streets rather than being covered in gold. They wound around a square tower, and at each second turn there was a doorway. The first two were blocked off, but the third one was open; no sign of anyone ever having tried to board it up or block it. "We still need light," said Ben. "A fire would be sensible; light and warmth then." "Maybe we're ok," said Jimmy, who'd already gone inside. "There's cords of wood and jars of oil in here." Ben and I looked at each other. "Let's check the next floor," I said. "That's clearly not been left by the original inhabitants; the wood would have crumbled away long ago." "Bring a cord of wood though," said Ben to Jimmy before he came back out. "No point taking chances." The stairs terminated on the next floor, and the doorway here had been boarded up and then broken down by something strong and large. It looked like whatever had done it had just battered at the boards until they splintered, and the stonework at the edges of the doorframe was crumbled and fractured from the impact. Inside were three skeletons, brown with age, bundles of rags loosely tied with old, old rope that fell into dusty strands when Jimmy touched it, and a single battered and torn book lying half beneath the rib cage of the largest skeleton. "Guess we're sleeping downstairs then," said Ben, looking around the room. "Maybe the last inhabitants were here more recently than we thought."
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The post from 2016 that also bears the tag crumbling is a good picture of Max :)
Crumbling
We recovered as fast as we could, since Ben and I really didn't want to be dumped in the dark again, only this time with no light at the end of the tunnel and started moving. We backed up a little, and looked above our heads this time, only now realising that we'd been so focused on what was at eye-level that we'd completely neglected what was there. The buildings were gold-leafed or gold-plated, or whatevered all the way up, and some of them reached to four or five stories. Somewhere towards the middle of the city were twin spires, which suggested a church of some kind, or maybe a palace. The buildings off to our left -- without the sun I didn't remember which way was North -- were slightly lower and blockier, and those to our right seemed a little taller, spaced a little further apart and perhaps even looked like they were lighter somehow. As though they might just lift off and float up into the sky.
"Right," said Ben, looking this way and that. "let's go to the right. I reckon that if someone's boarded up these buildings already then the solid ones will be harder to get into. If someone's got fancy arches and filigrees and poodles then it's going to be harder to board up, and they'll get lazy."
"Poodles?" asked Jimmy.
"Architectural term," said Ben, and there was just a fraction of a second where he glared at me, so fast I'm not sure Jimmy could have seen it, and I kept my mouth shut. For now.
Ben, it seemed, was right as well; we turned off to the right and walked down a street that opened out into a small square with a gold-leafed fountain at the centre of it, and on the other side of the fountain we saw a building with a colonnade. Through the arches of the colonnade we could see a flight of stairs, and when we approached then we saw, just as we'd surmised, that they were made of the crumbling yellow stone that paved the streets rather than being covered in gold. They wound around a square tower, and at each second turn there was a doorway. The first two were blocked off, but the third one was open; no sign of anyone ever having tried to board it up or block it.
"We still need light," said Ben. "A fire would be sensible; light and warmth then."
"Maybe we're ok," said Jimmy, who'd already gone inside. "There's cords of wood and jars of oil in here."
Ben and I looked at each other.
"Let's check the next floor," I said. "That's clearly not been left by the original inhabitants; the wood would have crumbled away long ago."
"Bring a cord of wood though," said Ben to Jimmy before he came back out. "No point taking chances."
The stairs terminated on the next floor, and the doorway here had been boarded up and then broken down by something strong and large. It looked like whatever had done it had just battered at the boards until they splintered, and the stonework at the edges of the doorframe was crumbled and fractured from the impact. Inside were three skeletons, brown with age, bundles of rags loosely tied with old, old rope that fell into dusty strands when Jimmy touched it, and a single battered and torn book lying half beneath the rib cage of the largest skeleton.
"Guess we're sleeping downstairs then," said Ben, looking around the room. "Maybe the last inhabitants were here more recently than we thought."
Greg - yes, I noticed that one as well. Amazing how different he looks now.
That's quite the discovery on the top floor. Sadly no poodles to be found, though.
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