#renceren kiang

[ren-cerati]

Masterpost for GSMP

Renceren Content:

Renceren Character Info + Nether Worldbuilding

Castle Life

Gabi Content:

Gabi Character Info

[ren-cerati]

Okay so

This is the first thing I ever wrote for Renceren! When I was first getting their character down. It's still canon, so yeah.

@astro-nomaly @highbookwormofthecentury @flirty-anon @shadow-dwelling-anon @nerdwholikesnerdythings @mother-spore-missa

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Castle Life

(Takes Place when Renceren lives in the Nether. Loop Ending 3.)

Renceren woke up draped over their desk. With a groan, they sat up, and looked at the clock before remembering it didn’t work like that in the Nether.

That was what they’d been puzzling over last night. Why the two arrows on the clock would spin round and round, never settling on night or day, dusk or dawn. The clock had been easy enough to make, and they appreciated that it was made with gold, but the fact it just wouldn’t stop is what irked them.

Then again, there was no indication of time passing it the nether, atleast at face value. They’d managed to keep track of their age by the growth of the vines and trees, when Striders would migrate upwards towards the basalt deltas and then back down to the warped forests.

Time wasn’t all that important, anyways. Time did not dictate anything in the Nether, especially when there was no sun to set, no moon to hang in the sky.

They’re shaken from their thoughts when someone knocks on the door. They sigh, and then go to open it. A butler stands there, and bows shortly to them.

“The Nether reigns supreme, Crown Prince Renceren.” Said the butler, who offers them some mushroom soup and fried nether wart.

What a grating greeting. There were a couple variations, to each their own, but always something about reign. Glory. Conquest. War.

“The Nether reigns supreme.” They mumble in response. They nod as they take the food, and then the door is shut again.

They sit back down at their desk, munching on the fried nether wart as they do. Tired eyes scan over the notes strewn about, and then Renceren just thunks their head into the desk.

“How have I yet to have made a breakthrough?” They ask no one in particular. “The clock was just a side project to put this off.” They stare at the wither rose in the pot, as though it’s the one to blame for this matter.

The flower just sits there, perhaps rueful it cannot experience photosynthesis in a place without the sun.

“Don’t sass me.” They snap at the rose. It seems to wilt, and they feel bad. They feel gut wrenchingly. Heart achingly, horrible, because they were just short with a guiltless rose.

“I-” They look at the plant. It doesn’t want to be here. It’s not the fault of something dangerous that doesn’t even know it’s dangerous. They shouldn’t expect the laws of nature to bend for their will just so they’ll be proud. Just for some validation.

“I’m sorry, I- I need to get out.” They forcefully tear their gaze away from the pot and go to the door.

“I’ll just go for a walk. Clear my head. And everything will be fine.” They say, perhaps manifesting for such to happen. The rose doesn’t respond, which. Which makes sense. Yeah. Yeah…

They fix their hair, and try to pull on the pompous, prideful air they masquerade with.

Nobody will look at them long enough to assume they aren’t put together. Not long enough to see their smile is so, so strained. They haven’t before, so why would they now?

Hand resting on the doorknob. Do they really want to do this? Do they really, really want to step outside the door, and into the hall, and walk, steps loud and sharp against the blackstone floors? Continue walking and walking until they reach the courtyard, and-

They open the door before they can keep thinking. Shut it before they can decide the room is far safer and more comfortable than the halls. Start walking before they can turn themself right back around.

“I am a grown person.” They say to the wall. “I am The Crown Prince. They cower when they see me, I don’t cower when I see them.”

That doesn’t help.

Renceren strides down the halls, head held high. They nod curtly to the servants, pretending they stand taller than anyone in here.

Boorish laughter comes from ahead. Suddenly Renceren gets knocked back, some force slamming into their side and shoving them against the wall.

Some pain radiates through their ribs, and they turn to face the oblivious idiot who-

Oh.

“Oi, runt!” Their brother, Mineos, guffaws, his arm looped over one of his comrades in arms. “I haven’t seen you in a while! Nearly squashed you, haha.” He takes another swig from a tankard, and they wince. That alcohol stuff from the overworld smells dreadful, especially when concentrated to survive the heat in the Nether.

“Y-Yes, hello, Mineos. It’s good to see you as well.” And that isn’t entirely a lie, Mineos is one of the few who doesn’t ridicule them. He’s just…a lot.

“Finally out of that stuffy study? Ready to join us on the battlefield and crush skulls and kick babies?”

Ah, joy. They love when Mineos talks about his hobbies.

Mineos ruffles their hair, but presses down harder than needed and they grunt slightly in pain.

“Hey, Mineos. Stop bothering with that scrap, we’ve better things to see, bigger,” Kercules, a high ranking warrior, sneers, hefting his battle axe over his shoulder. “Fish to fry.”

“Yeah yeah. Whatevs. Oh damn, did I hurt you at all?” Mineos stops suddenly, seemingly concerned about them. They can feel Kercules glare on their back.

“What? Oh, I hardly felt it.” Renceren says, even though steady pain still throbs through their shoulder.

“Okay… Anyway, catch ya later, big bro.” Mineos waves, a grin on his face. Kercules snorts, and glances briefly at Renceren and rolls his eyes.

It feels mocking, even though Mineos was being genuine. And even if Mineos didn’t hate them as much as the rest of the castle, what if they started hating him as well?

Besides, he was head over heels for Kercules. If Kercules put his foot down and told him to stop talking to them, Mineos would.

The rowdy party of warriors pass, and Renceren keeps walking. Okay, the walk hasn’t been the greatest, but it’ll be fine. It’ll be okay.

They turn the corner and nearly run into their mother.

Piercing red eyes, long and coiled white hair. She wears golden armor, gilded in redstone. She is power, untouchable, unreachable, and larger than life.

Todays a whole family reunion, they guess. How joyful. How wonderful.

“Mother.” They bow from the waist, wondering why the heat is now stifling. Why they suddenly can’t breathe. Maybe they know the answers, but are they capable of handling them? Can they confront what’s going on?

No.

“Renceren. You have left your chambers? I didn’t know you could do that.” She tilts her head, and it’s like glass shatters. They hold themself still, unmoving as rock. They can’t flinch. They can’t flinch.

“Yes, mother. I was taking a walk.” Keep it simple. Keep it honest. Don’t lie, don’t lie unless there’s no other option.

“Are you…done playing with those vials and things?”

“No, mother. I- I believe that soon, I’ll make a breakthrough, and-”

“Shut up.” Her voice rises slightly, and they just nod, eyes on the floor.

She surveys them for a moment, then laughs. But it’s not kind at all, and not even mocking. Not even with emotion to care. It's dry and coarse, without perturbation.

“Look at my daughter. She’s so amazing, so smart. What a lovely young lady.” She says, tone sort of proud in the sickest, most belittling way. She’s not even being openly awful. She’s just making them feel small, and smaller.

And that shame, that fury, just flows through them again. It’s white hot and it burns, and it feels horrible. They want to hurt her, but they wouldn’t dare. They want to hurt, to scream, to do anything asides stand here in silence while the world somehow keeps turning.

“Mother.” They say, still looking into the ground. If they look up, all they can think of is the expression she’ll wear. “I’d like to be dismissed now.”

“Oh no? I’m sorry honey, did I upset you? Did I upset you, Renceren?” Her lip curls.

“Mother!-” They try to look her in the eye, but they glance up and see red, red, red, and they have to look down so they don’t have to face that glare.

“Don’t raise your voice at me. Do not use that tone.” Her voice goes from airy to stern, to loud. They just nod curtly.

“I was trying to joke around with you. No need to get so defensive.” She says. And she uses her unconcerned tone, the kind that makes them feel like they're crazy. And when she puts it like that, they overreacted, didn’t they?

Yeah. They must have. That’s the only explanation, isn’t it? She doesn’t lie. She’s lied before, but only of little things that are strictly inconsequential.

“May I be dismissed now?” They finally say. She just nods, not even looking at them.

Don’t run out. Don’t look back even though you can feel her gaze on the back of your neck. A thousand more don’ts they've learned over time, and that's how they’ll stay fine.

At least she actually acknowledged their existence today.

They don’t end up continuing their walk. Renceren just goes back to their room. They want so badly to just curl in their bed very small, and block out the world for hours until something happens.

Instead, they light a candle to drive off the darkness, and get back to work.

They’ll show her. That they can do something useful. Something that will help the kingdom reign for centuries more.

“That’s just what you have to do, isn’t it?” They ask the rose. “There’s no point in being if you aren’t useful to someone.”

And of course, there's no reply. They don’t expect one. It’s silly to expect that a plant could talk and maybe even give them like, philosophy or therapy or something of the like.

But maybe, perhaps if the rose could talk, it’d ask them to rest.

//oh this is so old. Anyway

Mineos is silly (Atena has yet to be relevant/mentioned but shes a badass) Mineos is also a piglin, Atena is a blaze.

Kercules too. Wither skeleton silly

AUGH THIS ART SO OLD 💔

[ren-cerati]

Literally got YELLED AT. To post this. Love you @highbookwormofthecentury

Anyway!

Info for my Minecraft oc, Renceren. Follow up to the builds post

Tags (ask to be added or removed because I do like this silly character and would love to yap about them more.)

@astro-nomaly @highbookwormofthecentury @flirty-anon @shadow-dwelling-anon @nerdwholikesnerdythings @mother-spore-missa

Backstory

Name: Renceren

Title: Prince Of The Southern Bastion/Bastard Prince of The South.

Age: Youthful looking, Immortal/Long Lived

Pronouns: They/Them, but they don't care all too much.

Race: Piglin Brute Hybrid

Renceren was born in the Nether with a Piglin mother and an overworlder father. However, their father died a while back, and their mother married another piglin. Renceren was somewhat shunned due to being a hybrid.

Since they were a lot smaller than other piglins (Due to being a hybrid) their mother and stepfather tried to kill them by throwing them into lava, but they somehow managed to survive. Because of this, they were given grudging permission to live at all.

However, their parents were unaware that they gained immortality, because of an alchemical experiment that was tossed into the lava to be destroyed. Renceren can only be killed by a certain weapon/item the royal family possesses.

From a young age they were told of the injustices committed against their homeland; The overworlders raiding the Fortresses and Bastions, and those from the End who invaded and did something to their forests, causing some of them to warp (Operating on the warped forests being most likely to spawn endermen, and some color theory thing I saw on a post.) Alongside other attacks, turf wars, and the like.

Renceren has a bit of a strange personality, due to their parents mostly leaving them to their own devices unless it was to preach the horribleness of the other two realms.

They could be standoffish, rude, and even bratty, but they were not unnecessarily rude to the staff and cared for a couple striders and the like.

They are well versed in alchemy (Also based on a nether theory which dictates that Piglins too were once Overworlders, but used magical alchemy of sorts and something went wrong.)

They were trained in combat, but often lazed about since they saw no reason to learn to fight, what with the hundreds of guards in the Bastion.

During this period in their life, they didn't really have any friends, due to their parents isolating them and rarely letting them leave.

Their parents didn't really care for them as a person, and only what their heir could achieve, feats in alchemy, study, and combat. The family had many disagreements on what Renceren would accomplish in their lifetime.

They do know a decent bit of redstone, but their parents frowned on technology from the overworld.

On the day of the attack, they watched as their home was destroyed, their parents slain before their very eyes.

The awfulest thing was, they didn't feel sorrow as the thrones were bathed in blood. They didn't know those who sat upon them, larger than life figures gilded in gold.

Afterall, Renceren never really had a connection with any of their family. Their siblings thought they were weak, their parents only cared about what they could do to carry the family legacy and to bring glory to the kingdom.

But before she died, their mother commanded them- avenge the Kingdom of the Southern Bastion.

That was, after all, their duty to the royal lineage.

In the Overworld, they finally had a chance to express themself as they wished. But their past looms behind them, because their kingdom did not merely fade to obscurity, and they are the heir to the throne.

The war may be over, but as long as that duty rests on Renceren's shoulders, they will never know peace.

/okay so that was that. Screams

Anyway renceren doodles! I draw them a lot

For the design changes, they dyed their hair black after coming to the overworld, and hid their horns. Also this aint even all the times I've drawn them. Curse you ten image limit. Also they're character design has grown over time, they were made some time ago.

Some extra nether worldbuilding:

Nether Lore

The nether has four main Kingdoms, The Southern Bastion, The Western Bastion, The Eastern Bastion, and the Northern Bastion. (Based on the four cardinal directions.)

Piglin Royalty is more archaic/barbaric, for lack of better terms. Each Bastion values strength and honor above all else. They prefer not to ask their enemies questions, always choosing to attack before being civil. They’re probably less technologically advanced than the overworld or the end, but they make up for that with fierce fighting spirit.

Before overworlders invaded and looted their bastions and fortresses, the nether folk would often hold tournaments to showcase strength, or friendly competitions between fortresses or Kingdoms. They were content in the nether, and had little reason to build portals and leave. That was until other conflicts, where battalions would attack and wreak havoc in villages and end cities.

If you die an honorless death, it's said that you’ll just become another one of the souls, trapped in lanterns or sands. It is the worst thing to happen to someone, and part of the reason warriors are so respected; and honor so important.

Hair is also extremely important and valued to nether folk, especially piglins. Hair is tied deeply to honor and memory, and altering it can mean various things, such as mourning, shame, dedication to your cause, and leaving old things behind.

There is no shame behind scars, and such are usually proudly showcased as proof of valor in battle.

Pride is a natural instinct to nether folk, and they can be stubborn to the point of idiocy.

As of the end of the war, there's unrest in the nether. The Southern Bastion had the most control over everything, and now it is without its rulers and the heir is rumored to still be alive, but no one knows where they have gone.

Some nether folk are content to go back to their tournaments and training sessions, but others wish for more blood, conquest, and glory. The other Bastions are attempting to seize absolute control in the chaos, and the Fortresses are no longer standing together and instead are becoming increasingly divided. The fighting is no longer in the name of showcase or friendly battles, instead making rifts in the once tight knit armies of the Nether.

//and thats just my character. Ill have to ask my buddies @katoen-cotton @l0tu5-5t4r @gabbyelle if they'll post about their characters, or if I can do so.