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You clasp your hands to your head, and start pulling at your hair violently. You let out a blood- curdling scream, and everyone in the area looks to your direction. You start to breathe heavily, as if you had a sudden lung closure. You gasp for air, your arms helplessly and desperately flailing in the air like snakes.
Your eyes roll back in your head, and you start to shake violently. You start to foam out of your mouth, and the messy heap of your body starts to curl up into a ball.
You start to shut down, everything becoming a blur before your eyes. Your skin becomes pale white, and you start to roll on the floor. You let out one final scream, your eyes close, and you fall into darkness.
After a long while, you seemingly wake up, except everything feels different. You seem much lighter, and you realize that you are flying! You are flying in the cloudy, misty sky, soaring about twenty feet above the ground of Lumbridge. No trace of your body is found, and you hear a voice whisper in your head. It says, "I told you not to say that name!”
“It was you! What did you d-do to me? Am I dead?”
“No, you are merely unconscious. I have ripped open the Shell of Dreams.”
“The Shell of Dreams?”
“I suppose you mortals haven’t heard of it yet. While I’m at it, I might as well tell you the whole story. Here it goes: I suppose that you humans have heard and slain dragons before, yes? Well, those are simply pawns in the midst of many rooks and knights.
Above those are the Dragonkin, my loyal supporters. Through my complicated system of infantry, I have heard that you seem to be a master of that Reaping skill. When you wielded that Reaper’s Scythe, you don’t just get into the Death Zone by magic. It has to have some sort of source, and that source is usually provided by my Dragonkin.
However, I have watched you over the years, seemingly representing Saradomin. However, if there is one thing I know, it’s that I know a Zamorak follower when I see one.
You clasp your hands to your head, and start pulling at your hair violently. You let out a blood- curdling scream, and everyone in the area looks to your direction. You start to breathe heavily, as if you had a sudden lung closure. You gasp for air, your arms helplessly and desperately flailing in the air like snakes.
Your eyes roll back in your head, and you start to shake violently. You start to foam out of your mouth, and the messy heap of your body starts to curl up into a ball.
You start to shut down, everything becoming a blur before your eyes. Your skin becomes pale white, and you start to roll on the floor. You let out one final scream, your eyes close, and you fall into darkness.
After a long while, you seemingly wake up, except everything feels different. You seem much lighter, and you realize that you are flying! You are flying in the cloudy, misty sky, soaring about twenty feet above the ground of Lumbridge. No trace of your body is found, and you hear a voice whisper in your head. It says, "I told you not to say that name!”
“It was you! What did you d-do to me? Am I dead?”
“No, you are merely unconscious. I have ripped open the Shell of Dreams.”
“The Shell of Dreams?”
“I suppose you mortals haven’t heard of it yet. While I’m at it, I might as well tell you the whole story. Here it goes: I suppose that you humans have heard and slain dragons before, yes? Well, those are simply pawns in the midst of many rooks and knights.
Above those are the Dragonkin, my loyal supporters. Through my complicated system of infantry, I have heard that you seem to be a master of that Reaping skill. When you wielded that Reaper’s Scythe, you don’t just get into the Death Zone by magic. It has to have some sort of source, and that source is usually provided by my Dragonkin.
However, I have watched you over the years, seemingly representing Saradomin. However, if there is one thing I know, it’s that I know a Zamorak follower when I see one.
09-Feb-2009 17:59:31 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 18:47:58 by Cicobe1