RuneScape Forum Archive | ~^v^~ Kashan's Tale ~^v^~

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But Kashan…Timier looked around, expecting to see his brother either miraculously behind the archers or preparing to shoot them down with throwing knives from incredible distances; but he just sat on his horse, looking dumbfounded.
That sight, his brother not even moving to help when he was being bombarded with an onslaught of arrows from four men, shocked him. Kashan had always been the first to step up for him home in Edgeville; and even faster to do so after he came back from the void, but now he didn’t move when even a dwarf –
An arrow found its mark, the stationary mage being an easy target. The flesh of his shoulder suddenly found itself on the wrong side of his body, and he barely managed to stifle a scream from his lips. Barely managing to shoot out his staff to misguide another incoming arrow he dove behind a tree, as safe as could be in the situation.
At the same time, Toin had managed to fell one of the two warriors he was fighting, who now lay on the ground in agony over a burning leg.
The down-side, however, was that now the archers’ attention focused on Toin. They had obviously decided Kashan was no threat, and justly so, as he hadn’t even stepped off his horse.
Toin didn’t even notice Timier’s injury, or the archers reloading and moving their bows towards him. His attention was fixed on the last adversary, who was decisively backing away, now that the berserk dwarf wasn’t outnumbered anymore.
Three arrows fell to the ground, barely missing their marks, but another one followed. Thankfully for Toin, barbarians had never been known for their skilled archers; the arrow hit him in his calf, bringing him down on one knee with a grunt. They turned towards Kashan, leaving Toin to the mercy of their warrior companion.
The last one standing of the three original fighters stopped backing away, and replaced a look of worry with a grin, a sweaty palm with a steady sword-hand.

20-Sep-2006 00:26:08 - Last edited on 04-Oct-2007 18:48:38 by [#80N8R0VWZ]

[#80N8R0VWZ]

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“Kashan, *do* something, for Armadyl’s sake!” Timier suddenly shouted with locked jaws, afraid for his brother, who was now the target of three archers with a second chance, and his friend who was up to the mercy of a barbarian warrior with a bloodthirsty sword.
And Kashan finally moved.
A daze fell off him, and he finally really saw his surroundings instead of worrying why he didn’t know what to do. He saw his friend, wounded and in mortal danger, and his brother, hurt by a random savage with a crude bow in hand and a determination to kill and steal from innocent passersby. And a feeling started to run through his body like a stream.
Rage.
With power he had never felt before, he leapt off his horse and to the ground. The horse instantly became worried and pranced as its owner’s face started to change. A lengthened jaw line, rising cheekbones, fur growing at miraculous speeds on both his face and body, teeth and nails stretching to the point of canines and claws all gave him the appearance of a two-legged wolf.
The morphing had happened in less than a second, and agony at the remolding of his bones blinded Kashan and turned his stomach. That passed quickly, however, and with incredible speed and strength he jumped up on the wall the archers were on, leaving four arrows in the ground where he had been standing moments earlier.
His feats as a balancer had always felt impassive to him; he had never really felt the power he used, as it wasn’t really his; he had been a mere bridge for it. But this…*this* power*
It felt good.
A beast-like growl escaped his lips, frightening the archers into slipping fingers. A grin came on Kashan’s face at the sign of weakness. All feelings of pity, mercy, compassion and kindness had gone with his transformation, buried under an endless rage.

20-Sep-2006 00:26:10 - Last edited on 04-Oct-2007 18:49:02 by [#80N8R0VWZ]

[#80N8R0VWZ]

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With a seemingly impossible speed, Kashan jolted forwards. The archer who stood closest to him fell with a brutally maimed throat, a scream failing miserably as all the air exited through a hole in his neck before it even reached the vocal chords.
The other three had dropped their bows and grabbed shortswords now, but their effort was futile. Before the sound of metal against hard leather had even fallen silent, they had all died like their partner before them. And Kashan stood between the fallen, shaking and panting heavily; not from tiredness of killing the four men, but from a longing to kill more.
A few seconds passed, and then the claws and canines retracted as the transformation started pulling back. Pain took over rage as his bones started re-molding again, this time to a more human form. In a few seconds, the change had passed, leaving a thin young man, recovering from the weariness of altering his mind and body so drastically in such a short time.
A yell from Timier cut his recovery short. “Kashan, look out!”
Kashan turned toward the sound, and saw the warrior who Toin had been fighting holding a throwing axe. His arm was held back, prepared to toss the axe like a ballista.
Kashan didn’t move. Fear gripped him as the axe moved forwards, on its way to the target.
It stopped short before it left its owners hand. The barbarian slumped to the ground, unconscious; a needle was sprouted from his neck.
Just before Kashan passed out from weariness, he saw a shadow disappearing into the forest.
~~~
“Nice work, Malkana, nice work indeed,” Zemouregal said to his second-in-command in a disturbingly satisfied voice. “The Airynyo spell...There’s even the possibility of attacking him out in Gielinor, now. Blocking the Balancer’s divine intervention was…ingenious.”
Malkana** feelings almost showed on his face, so strong was the surprise from a compliment from Zemouregal. “Thank you, master Zemouregal.”

20-Sep-2006 00:27:27 - Last edited on 04-Oct-2007 18:49:14 by [#80N8R0VWZ]

[#80N8R0VWZ]

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They were in the same, undecorated room as before, Zemouregal preferring it for all outside-world-magic for the image-wall before him. It now showed Kashan, frozen on his steed. “Tell me,” Zemouregal said as the wall showed an old mage receiving an arrow to the shoulder, “how did you find this magic? I do not remember teaching you, and, as adapt as you are, I do not believe you could have unearthed something as powerful as this on your own.” Zemouregal’s face didn’t turn toward Malkana when he spoke, but remained frozen on the wall. His tone, however, was enough to tell Malkana to watch his answer closely.
The pendant around his neck glowed as Malkana replied. “My sword, master Zemouregal. It…gave me a nudge in the right direction, if you will.* His voice became as neutral as a druid of Guthix as he spoke next, careful not to insinuate anything with his tone. “Master, if you knew of this spell, why did you not use it for the battle of Varrock? Perhaps victory could have been won, then, without the Balancer defeating Xen and Chronozon.”
Zemouregal was still watching the wall, and Malkana breathed easier at his reply. “People of the Mahjarrat tribe don’t die from old age, Malkana. I’ve lived for a very, very long time. To recall things from my tribe’s golden age calls for my memory to go back more than fifteen generations of your race. That specific spell was simply one of hundreds that I learned in my youth and have fallen out of my mind.” A few seconds passed in silence. Then: “Malkana, go dispose of the mage we used as conductor for the Airynyo spell. I’d rather my chamber not be filled with the scent of decay.”
Malkana obeyed and walked toward the blank wall that served as an entrance and exit from the room. Before he had exited, however, a shout – which was a sound he had never expected coming from his master – stopped him. “Stop!”
Malkana froze in his steps and turned around, expressionless. *Yes, master?"

20-Sep-2006 00:27:29 - Last edited on 04-Oct-2007 18:49:26 by [#80N8R0VWZ]

[#80N8R0VWZ]

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Zemouregal’s voice rang out again, though much calmer as his self-control had returned. “Do you believe that Xen, by any chance, infected the Balancer of the lycanthropy virus?”
Malkana still didn’t move. “Why would you ask that, master?”
Zemouregal shifted his weight to his other leg, the tiny movement enough to surprise Malkana – even if he didn’t show it. “Come. See what I see.*
The second-in-command walked back to his place next to his master, in front of the wall. He was greeted by the frozen image of a were-wolf, standing over four dead bodies. Blood coated its hand-paws, and splatters were on its face and upper torso.
Fastened to its arms were blood-red claws, made from dragon metal.
“I do believe we are now dealing with something else than a Balancer entirely.”

End of chapter 6.

20-Sep-2006 00:27:59 - Last edited on 04-Oct-2007 18:49:36 by [#80N8R0VWZ]