RuneScape Forum Archive | The Cult of Zamorak

Learth

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This is story is in progress. It is based on my Runescape Clan, The Zamorak Cult, its members, my crazy imagination, and quests.
It may seem a little disjointed, because it is a work in progress. I may or may not finish it. This is my first time posting a story here, i hope you enjoy reading it. Clanmates who read this and would like to be in the story, please send me a personal message. Thanks.
I would like to thank Nathanial Hawthorne's Young Goodman Brown for my inspiration for the first part of this story. Also a lil shout out to the Wizard of Ozz in here

I'd also like to thank Parasauce and Normy for their encouragement. If it wasn't for all of the positive feedback I've recieved, I probably would have given up this one by now. It is currently the longest story I've ever written!

Introduction:
Varrock was unusually quiet. On a typical summer evening, the streets and alleyways south of the city were rampant with drunkenness and merrymaking, or rife with vandalism and gang violence. Tonight, though, the gangsters and drunks and revelers locked their doors, and clung to their children. There were rumors about nights like this--nights when the moon shone red. The orphans in the streets shivered with fear as they told each other tails of robed figures, clad in the color of blood, whose mysterious evil deeds seeped into their nightmares.

09-Feb-2011 23:20:48 - Last edited on 02-Mar-2011 00:26:36 by Learth

Learth

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"And then, they'll rip your arms off! And then... they'll rip your legs off! And then... they'll tear your teeth out! And then... they'll eat your eyeballs!" Maximus Max, a 14-year-old Varrock boy, stood on a crate in the basement of the Blue Moon Inn. He had gathered a throng of his boldest boyhood compatriots... and one little sister, who had to tag along. "Do they really rip your teeth out?" asked one of the boys, wide-eyed.
"They wouldn't rip MY teeth out." said Bweer, "Saradomin would guide me, and my strength protect me."
"Saradomin can't help you in there," Maximus whispered dangerously, thrusting his bullseye lantern in Bweer's face. "That place is posessed. You'll looooooose your miiiiiindddddd! You'll looooooose your soooooooooooouuuuullllll!" He warbled. The boys laughed, but shifted nervously, huddling closer together.
There was a noise upstairs. The boys fell silent.

09-Feb-2011 23:21:22

Learth

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Someone had entered the pub. The door had been locked earlier that night, but the boys all crawled through the window. The silence of the night amplified the sound of the intruder’s steps. They were slow, almost cautious, but purposeful. Then another set of footsteps came, this time from another direction. The stairs creaked their admonition as the second person descended. The boys could bear their curiosity no longer. Maximus pushed his way to the front of the boys, and carefully opened the trapdoor. He poked his head out little by little, putting one foot against the ladder.
Looking up into the kitchen, he saw no one. The boys were tugging at his legs, some begging him to return, some whispering questions about what he saw. He shook free of their grip and hoisted himself into the kitchen. Everything was much darker than he had remembered it when they snuck in. He felt stiff, and cold, although it was the middle of summer. There was a dim glow reflecting on the wall from around the corner, and he could just make out the shadow of a woman’s head... but it wasn’t an ordinary woman’s head. It looked strange, unnatural… almost skeletal, and almost like… a snake. Perhaps the shadows were playing tricks, but to this day, Maximus will tell you he would not have looked around that corner for all of the gold in the King’s castle.

09-Feb-2011 23:22:36

Learth

Posts: 376 Silver Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

He kept still, frozen with dread, praying to wake up from his icy fears. Instead, they became all the more real when the stillness of the night was again broken, not by footsteps, but a gentle whisper.
“I ..” began a female voice “I have changed my mind. I don’t want to go with you.”
“Has faith kept you back awhile?” a male voice scoffed, “You’re late. You should have met me along the way.”
“Hardly faith, but fear kept strangling my will.”
“Fear?” The stranger sounded like he would begin a laugh, but paused instead. “There is nothing to fear. We are the fear. We are the silence of tonight, the bloodstains on the moon. We are Zamorak’s own, and there is no fear for us—only glorious triumph.”
The shadow nodded in understanding. “My life is in a rut,” she said. “For as long as I can remember, I have taken the straight road--the righteous path. Everything I do is predefined… except for this night. I have to break through these barriers… but not tonight. Not like this. I’ve kept my promise by meeting you here, but now I must turn back.”
An unseen smile appeared on the stranger’s face, “I understand… but you seem troubled. Let us walk for awhile, and perhaps I can convince you to change your mind.”

09-Feb-2011 23:28:05

Learth

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They walked on until long past sunrise, far beyond the gaze of the boys. No one knew where they went. At the mouth of a forgotten cave, the two cloaked strangers paused, and the gentleman conversed with wild eyes. His speech was full of excitement, and his motions were animated as he spoke to the woman. His green moustache wriggled with glee at the forbidden knowledge he was imparting to his companion; the newest initiate into the Cult of Zamorak.
“And now,” he concluded, removing his hood, “You must continue this journey on your own. The spirit of Zamorak will guide you to a better understanding.”
He made what looked like a half-bow. It was a less a gesture of respect, and more likea prideful little display of ceremony. He flourished his hand as he did so, waving her farewell as he disappeared into another existence.
Existence for Sir Norman was good indeed. Who would have thought that the gentleman in the red hood who stalked alleyways under Zamorak’s moon was in fact a beloved Varrock citizen? He was a young man, barely twenty. He had amassed a fortune through his own efforts, and wad admired by friends and rivals alike.
He stood at the exchange, looking out on the crowd. He smiled brightly, picturing their corpses strewn about splendidly across the limestone floor. Every so often a gentleman, even a stranger, would tip his hat, or wave, because the smile was so warm and inviting.

09-Feb-2011 23:29:15 - Last edited on 20-Feb-2011 00:01:17 by Learth

Learth

Posts: 376 Silver Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

“Oy there, Sir!” Blurted one of the Varrock guardsmen. “Ave you heard? A lass went missing last night.” He held out a crinkled piece of parchment. It was a rough portrait of a plain young peasant, sketched in charcoal. She had short, shaggy black hair, and looked quite ordinary.
Sir Norman laughed, “What is so special about the death of a peasant woman? People go missing every day in this city. Between wild animals and savage rivalries, it is a wonder that we have not all gone missing.”
“Aye, what you say is too true. The guard has lost several good men this month. But it’s not the girl, it’s the brother. We don’t know she’s dead, we haven’t any body or evidence, you see. The poor little fellow has his heart set on rescuing her.”
“Is she the sister of a Guardsman?” Norman asked.
“No, but the boy is as good as a guardsman. He will be, once he’s of age. He would already, but the king forbids it. It’s no job for a child. He’s a peasant boy, of course, but he learns fast. At this point, with so many casualties, we’ll take any man who can hold up a sword.”
“I believe I have heard of the lad. Who in Varrock does not know of young Bweer, and his many attempts to join your guard? I have seen him train with you. He learned the sword at an impressive speed.”
“That he has,” replied the guard, “And he’ll search the ends of the world for his sister.”
Sir Norman’s eyes went blank for a moment, but their sparkle returned. “If I hear anything, I shall notify the guard.”
“Frankly, Sir Norman, I wouldn’t bother looking,” The guard said. His face fell. “She’s as good as dead. We just can’t bear to say it to the boy.”
Replacing his helmet, the guardsman walked off into the crowd. Sir Norman’s eyes followed him until he was out of sight.
Buyers and sellers were bartering everywhere. Above the noise, someone was shouting, “Buying Dragon Dagger! Forty Thousand!”

09-Feb-2011 23:30:35 - Last edited on 15-Aug-2011 21:20:10 by Learth

Learth

Posts: 376 Silver Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

Two hooded and giggling girls were stalking in an unknown passage deep underground.
“Five hundred gold pieces says she’ll fall down that hole.” One charismatically gestured toward a dangerous looking chasm.
“You’re on!” said the other.
The pale initiate girl, completely unaware that she was being watched, tossed a rope across the ledge, and managed to reach the other side by skillfully balancing across.
“Aw, that was no fun.” The first figure whispered.
“Pay up.” The second grinned.
“Ooh! Shhh! Shhh! She’s almost at the-”
A large metal claw from a hidden trap tore at the initiate’s arm. She pulled it away, bleeding, but carried on.
“That was my trap, so we’re even.”
“Just because you put it there and she fell for it doesn’t mean anything. We never bet on that.”
“But you know I always bet on my own traps!”
“But you did*’t, so you can’t expect me to pay!”
“Well I don’t think it’s fair that you…” The girl paused. Someone was breathing down her neck. She turned, and began a shriek, but the mysterious figure stifled it with his hand, and she made no sound.
A pair of eyes looked deep into hers, “Is this how you have been ‘watching’ the initiate?” he said quietly, dangerously.
The girls clutched each other, shrinking back in fear. Wide eyed and speechless, they stood dumb at the sight of their General.
“Stay vigilant... Heed my warning,” he admonished, then disappeared back into the shadow.

09-Feb-2011 23:33:03

Learth

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The initiate girl had become very weak. She knew when she entered the cave, there was no turning back. She had invested all of her energy, and was beginning to lose hope. She was bruised and bleeding from the traps and rugged terrain. Her head was spinning with pain, and she lost her balance again. She fell to her knees. Her mind was growing dark with confusion, and her heart with despair. Her hands desperately pressed against the ground, but her strength gave out. She collapsed to the ground, and her world was engulfed in the darkness.
“… Should we tell Lord Vorlon?” asked one of the watchers.
“We would only take the blame. Why did*’t you do something?!?”
“I don’t know! Why did*’t you? She seemed so strong a moment ago. She went down so quickly.”
The darkness was beautiful… comforting to the girl. There was no pain. It seemed so unlike death should feel—more like a wonderful hot shower. Instead of emptiness, this darkness was like a substance that surrounded and filled up everything. She breathed of it, and it tasted like rich musky smoke.
But* there was something in the distance. Like a cold blue fire, the size of the tip of a needlepoint. It began a barely noticeable annoyance, and then more lights came, and they became more apparent, invading her realm of fullness. The lights, almost blinding by now, were suffocating her wonderful dream!
“Stop! Come no closer!” she wanted to shout. It was no use. Anger raged through her veins at their impudence. She would destroy the wretched things!
She reached out her hand beyond that dark land to crush the orbs of light.
The watchers trembled as the girl’s body began to convulse.
A great skeletal serpent lunged from her throat, landing without a sound several feet away. It looked straight through a rock at the two girls with its glowing green eyes. It turned, and slithered off into the cavern.

09-Feb-2011 23:57:04 - Last edited on 10-Feb-2011 00:31:24 by Learth

Learth

Posts: 376 Silver Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

As the girl stretched out her hand back to the world of the living, she had brought something of the shadow realm with her, in her. She glided with the cave, devouring the lights in unimaginable joy. Deep in the pit of that place, a phantom orchestra played triumphant notes that only she could hear. It was a welcome dance—and without words, it spoke of the return of a lost daughter.

______________________________________________
Lord Vorlon prided himself on his ability to think things through. He was a thoughtful leader because he knew that making too many mistakes could mean the end for himself and his followers. While he was a master at planning heists to avoid detection, he had not successfully made progress that was of any help to Zamorak. That was all about to change, he thought. The Zamorak Cult, though only human, was going to become legendary among the legions of their god by means of their latest and greatest plan. Unfortunately, with all of Lord Vorlon’s planning and foresight, he could not have imagined that a fourteen-year-old boy had found a footprint in the countryside of Ardougne matching his sister’s favorite boots. This boy had in fact followed her tracks to their hidden sanctum in the Underground Pass, and was about to make his presence known.
A sudden clatter resounded above the conversations of the Zamorakians. The boy had thrown a gauntlet to the floor in front of Lord Vorlon’s throne. Stepping into the circle so that his enemies could see him, the boy looked up at the dark lord with bravery and resolve.
“I am Bweer, knight of Varrock, and I have come to avenge the death of my sister, Learth Hoch.”

10-Feb-2011 00:14:44 - Last edited on 17-Feb-2011 00:44:30 by Learth

Learth

Posts: 376 Silver Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

Vorlon raised an eyebrow, looked the boy up and down, and then right in the eyes. “You’re not a knight of Varrock, and you certainly have no business with me.” He laughed.
Bweer’s eyes narrowed, and he drew his sword. “I know it was you. Confess it!”
“My, my, for the little runt that you are, you are very demanding. How is it that you have discovered our headquarters?”
“First tell me what you did to my sister.”
“I have done nothing to your sister. I have never met your sister. It was a pity, really. She was so… weak.”
“What are you talking about? I have proof that it was one of your men. Her green dress was in this passage, covered with blood, and on top of it were the robes of your filthy god!”
A collective laugh echoed through the cavern.
Bweer looked around him. He hadn’t realized that there were this many of them. His heart began to race.
Vorlon stood up from his shadowy throne, and the laughter fell silent. In the torchlight, Bweer could see that he was a tall man, arrayed in glistening red Dragon armor. Confronting him could have only one outcome—death.
“I have nothing to hide from you, boy,” He began slowly, “Because I could crush you in my fist if I so wished. What I say is true. I have not seen your sister. She came to this cavern of her own free will, and died of her own foolishness. You found that robe along with her dress not because she was overtaken by one of us, but because she was to become one of us.”
For a moment, Bweer’* expression completely lost its composure. He was livid. “How DARE you disrespect the memory of my sister with your lies!” He shrieked. “I may not have the power to defeat you, but Saradomin have mercy on my soul, I will not bear this offense!*

10-Feb-2011 00:14:53 - Last edited on 17-Feb-2011 01:14:17 by Learth

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