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“I am so sorry my boy, but I have to go! Next time you see a fire; I’ll be there and tell you how to prevent the war! Good bye for now!”
“Dad! No!” shouted Dallion. But Alder Goldrider’s face had vanished from the fire’s ashes.
With that, Dallion left in anger and rage, forgetting the dog’s presence. He stomped out of the house and looked to the east. No, he must stick to the plan. But... wait. *Food*....
Dallion tried remembering the last time he had eaten. That was like a day ago. He jumped over the (short) fence and ripped a cabbage out of the ground, stuffing it into his mouth.
It tasted like dirt, but that did*’t stop him from eating the food he needed. After he had eaten five of the leafy foods, he stopped eating. He belched. He was not hungry anymore.
“Hey! You! Ya think you can eat from ma crops!” said a farmer’s voice. Dallion spun around, and there was your average farmer, holding a pitchfork.
Dallion twisted around and ran for it. He was tripping over some cabbages, but he kept going, ignoring the swelling bruises that had scraped fragments of gravel.
Dallion ran with relief as he saw the farmer fall behind. He looked ahead and his eyes bulged.
A different farmer dressed in blue overalls was at the other side of the fence, holding a pitchfork as well.
Dallion kept going, a trick up his sleeve. He vaulted over the fence, his legs stretched in front of him. He felt the impact of his heels slam into the farmer’s face.
The farmer tumbled to the ground. Dallion leapt forward and rolled across the grass he was now on. Then he turned to the farmer. Right then, the first farmer jumped over the fence to stand beside the other.
“Listen, this is all just a big misunderstanding. I haven’t eaten since last afternoon.”
“Save your breath,” sneered the blue farmer. “There’s nowhere to run now.”

18-Mar-2008 18:28:55 - Last edited on 01-Apr-2008 23:26:31 by [#E4B29LWTR]

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Dallion looked around. “I have all the room in the world.” Without warning, he spun around and east. He bolted over a fence and he was back on the path. That wasn’t good.
A figure, clad in brown robes and wearing a black mask, barred Dallion’s way.
The highwayman drew a sword. “Give me your money,” he said.
Dallion had none. He drew his dagger, ready to fight until his end. He did*’t stand a chance against a fully grown man. He was just a typical boy.
Dallion hurled his dagger at the highwayman’s face. It was a close call, but the rogue swung his sword at the dagger, sending it clattering away.
Dallion had an arrow already notched. But he did*’t get to shoot it.
The two farmers appeared behind him, pitchforks at the ready.
“Now what’s so brave about three against one?” asked Dallion with risk and confidence. They were probably going to kill him for that. He turned to the farmers.
“It’s not about bravery. You stole from our crops!”
With that, a stinging blade plunged through Dallion’* leg. The pain was more than a twelve year old boy could withstand. With that, everything blacked out. The last thing Dallion saw was the farmers shaking hands with the highwayman, paying him with a ruby they had "found" in Falador.
~!~!~

18-Mar-2008 18:28:56 - Last edited on 01-Apr-2008 23:28:20 by [#E4B29LWTR]

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Dallion woke in a cell. The floor looked like it had been sweating, which he knew was impossible. Either water had been thrown on the captives before himself, or it was sweat from those who had once been in this cell. Either way, he found it gross.
“So, you’re new,” said a cold voice to his right. He turned his head, and he found himself face to face with a black helmet. The fear overwhelmed him, sending him flying to the bars on the other side of the wall.
“I know what you are,” said Dallion fearfully. “You’re a Black Knight, the enemy of the White Knights of Falador.”
“That I am.” He sighed. “They caught me in a battle against Varze’s invasion. Put me in this iron hell.” He tried tugging at the bars as if actually hoping to rip them down.
“How long have you been here?” asked Dallion with interest. Regularly he would not be talking to fugitives, but now he himself was one. He was amongst his own kind.
“Thirty years,” said the Black Knight calmly.
The answer was so strong it made Dallion fly into the bars again. “Thir—THIRTY YEARS?” he said, trying to digest the fact. He had never heard of somebody in jail for so long.
“Yes,” said the Black Knight, and the conversation ended. After a while, he said, “Hey Robby, have you said hi to the new comer yet?” asked the Black Knight.
In a cell a hundred paces ahead of him, a head wearing an eye patch and a bandana turned to the Black Knight. “No, who is it?” Robby asked.
“This is... uh... hey kid, what’s your name?”
“Dallion,” said Dallion. Then he said more proudly, “Dallion Goldrider.”
This time the Black Knight flew into the cell bars. “Goldrider?” he spat and coughed.
“Yeah... is there something wrong with my name?” asked Dallion, puzzled at the Black Knight’s behaviour.
“Dude,” started Robby, “don’t you know anything about your family*s history?”

18-Mar-2008 18:30:35 - Last edited on 02-Apr-2008 03:53:46 by [#E4B29LWTR]

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“No...” said Dallion. Instantly, the Black Knight and Robby flew into the iron bars of their cells.
“Will you stop that?” asked Dallion in anger.
“Keep ya voice down!” shouted Robby in a whisper. “You’ll wake the guard up!”
There was a guard, dressed in leather, sleeping on that uncomfortable looking chair, with five full glass of beer and five empty. Poor thing.
“By the way,” said the Black Knight, acting as if nothing had happened. “I’m Celtic.” He put his black arm through the cell. Dallion uneasily shook it, having no clue what else to do.
“So Celtic,” said Robby across the room. “You’re telling the story tonight?”
“That is so,” replied Celtic. Dallion was helplessly trying to understand what they meant. It was expected they knew much more than he did about the place. This story telling with probably a jail tradition.
“Hey Celtic,” said Dallion carefully, trying not to act like a criminal too much. “Where is this jail?” he asked.
Celtic spat on the ground, which was already wet enough. Dallion guessed it was from his spit. That meant he was standing on a Black Knight’s spit.
“Nobody knows,” stated Celtic. “We think we’re in Falador. That’s the most secure place in all of the Eastern Lands. I can’t imagine we’d be transported all the way to Varrock. Certainly we’re not in Lumbridge or Draynor Village; otherwise we would have been free decades ago.”
“I come from Dray”—Dallion bit his tongue back. He couldn’t let these fugitives know he was hunting the largest treasure in the world!
“Draynor?” asked Robby. “I come from Brimhaven. It’s this place on Karamja, I suppose you’ve heard of Karamja?”
“I’ve always taken a great interest in that particular place,” admitted Dallion.
“Anyway,” continued the pirate, “Celtic is from this place called ‘Black Knights Fortress’. I keep on trying to tell him it’s such a *pathetic* name!”

18-Mar-2008 18:30:36 - Last edited on 02-Apr-2008 23:44:32 by [#E4B29LWTR]

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“It is where my master comes from!” roared Celtic in hate and he lashed out at the bars like a hellhound, trying to tear them down.
Dallion saw the guard stand from his chair. “What’s g-going on?” he asked in his drunken voice.
“Nothing, nothing at all,” said Robby rather quickly. His voice seemed forced, as if trying to get the guard back to sleep.
“Oh, good,” said the guard and he went back to sleep on his chair.
Dallion burst into tears. “Ha, ha, ha, ha!” he laughed.
So that was the last event for a few more boring hours as the pirate, the Black Knight and the teenager talked about adventures they had all been on. Dallion had to make up some tales of how he and Father had rescued the Duke of Lumbridge from a goblin attack.
Celtic told the last story. *Ok, so my father, he’s a Black Knight, right? He heroically died in battle. You see, he’s fighting this idiot named, Amik Varze. Famous White Knight. Anyway, so he’s fighting Father on top of the Black Knight’s Fortress.” He stopped and eyed Robby sharply.
“Anyway,” continued Celtic, “they be fighting, and father slices his blade through Amik’s back. Amik falls down, crying in pain. Good times, good times. So anyway, Father raises his sword to cut Amik in half, but Amik unexpectedly kick Father in the chest and knocks him off the fortress. And then the invasion was over. On the White Knights’ way of leaving, they captured any Black Knight they could. Most got away. The others have all been alive to long.” Celtic pointed his finger to a pile of bones in the corner of a cell. *Dallion’s cell*.
Dallion had a face expressing that he was disgusted.
“So those idiot White Knights. They took me here. I haven’t put a foot outside this cell ever since. I have never seen daylight ever since.”

18-Mar-2008 18:30:37 - Last edited on 01-Apr-2008 02:55:35 by [#E4B29LWTR]

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The nightmare started like this was horrible.
Zoë is trying to run, but Trey is to fast. He jumps on her, knocking her to the ground and lifts here up, carrying her to the old man. She tries biting and kicking, anything to escape the traitor’s grip. But it is useless.
The old man has a key in his hand. He then draws a dagger. “With your death, the sacrifice to the Three Kings will be complete. And I, Drevious Steel, descendant of Arasis Steel, will complete his incomplete goal. I will have the Legacy of the Three Kings, and all of Runescape!” With that, he plunges the dagger into Zoë’s heart, and she lets out a cry of pain. And then, a massive iron door opens before them, and Drevious and Trey walk inside.
~!~!~

18-Mar-2008 18:32:17 - Last edited on 02-Apr-2008 23:46:08 by [#E4B29LWTR]

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Dallion sat up on the ground. It was either Celtic’s spit or his own sweat that engulfed him.
Celtic and Robby were asleep. So was the guard.
Gingerly, Dallion took his lock pick out of his pocket. Thank Saradomin these guards were stupid! They hadn’t searched him!
Although he did*’t have his knife or bow or arrows. That would have to do. His skills were the only thing that could save him now.
He inserted the lock pick into the key hole... and it instantly clicked open. ‘These guards have terrible security,’ thought Dallion as he crept along the corridor and towards the front door. He pulled the kn(c)ob and he stepped out into the night air once more.
Dallion looked around and he noticed he was surrounded by docks. He was in Port Sarim, his destination.
» End of Chapter Four «

18-Mar-2008 18:32:17 - Last edited on 02-Apr-2008 03:59:44 by [#E4B29LWTR]

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» Chapter Five -- Captured «
The first thing that happened to Dallion when he stepped outside was that he was knocked down by a slimy body. He stared to face his intruder and gazed into the ugly face of a goblin. Flames danced in the night, crackling as if trying to sing.
The fire came from two wrecked carriages on the outskirts of Port Sarim. Dallion heard screams as bodies were melted in the flames, turning into nothing but death and ash.
The goblin drew a twisted and deadly looking iron dagger. With a fierce battle cry, Dallion grabbed the goblin’s head and twisted it around and heard a satisfying crack.
Dallion grabbed for the dagger as if a blind old man for a few seconds. Then it was in his hands and he was sprinting for the flaming wreckage.
Approximately twenty-four goblins were attacking the people trying to escape. A woman tried running, but a goblin instantly leapt at her and stabbed her in the shoulder. There was a twisted cry of agony, but Dallion knew she wasn’t dead.
He threw his dagger at the goblin attacking the woman, and he saw blood fly everywhere, and he knew he had hit the mark of the goblin’s brain. What good accuracy he had! Zoë would have called it a phenomenal shot, and almost nobody got archery comments from Zoë. Or maybe she would have called it a fluke...
But now Dallion was unarmed. He looked around and saw one warrior fending off hordes of the enemies. Dallion had to help him.
Another goblin was racing after Dallion. The boy instantly twisted around and ran for the dead goblin’s head. He withdrew his dagger from it and stabbed it into the next goblin’s forehead. Surprisingly, these goblins weren’t that tough of foes.
The warrior was countering all attacks thrown at him and throwing in some of his own. Strange cries of agony pierced the night air and more followed as if everlasting rain.

18-Mar-2008 18:32:18 - Last edited on 07-Apr-2008 01:43:12 by [#E4B29LWTR]

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The warrior wore a strange brown helmet and he wore the type of armour Dallion had identified as runite. The warrior’s whip flew around the air, striking any goblins unlucky enough to be in the object*s path.
Dallion ran forward to help the warrior.
A knife sliced the air and flashed behind Dallion’s shoulder. He turned around and saw a goblin fall down, the knife in his throat.
“Kid!” said the warrior, still fighting. “I suggest you leave!”
“No!” shouted Dallion and he stabbed his goblin metal into one of the creature’s charging at him. The cries were unpleasant and Dallion hated to kill, but it was his life or others.
The warrior did an admirable sequence of moves to a single goblin: a weak lash of his whip to the stomach, a weak lash of his whip to the jaw, and a nicely placed kick into the goblin’s face. The goblin fell down with his neck snapped back.
The warrior twisted around and placed a back kick into the stomach of another goblin. His whip then wrapped around the goblin’s throat, and with a mighty tug of the weapon, the goblin’* neck cracked. That was the last goblin.
After a few seconds of silence, Dallion released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding within his lungs. “Wow you’re good,” was all he could say.
*Thanks,” replied the warrior. “The long years of training have finally paid off. As much as I would like to help you, boy, I must be on my way. I head for the Eastern Lands.”
“Can I come with you?” asked Dallion. “I head for there as well.” The warrior was defying Dallion to follow him. Meanwhile, they were unaware of a goblin rising to strike in his last breath...
An arrow leapt off a building’s roof top and it struck the goblin in the side of the head. Dallion and the warrior spun around to see who had shot the arrow.

18-Mar-2008 18:33:19 - Last edited on 06-Apr-2008 21:28:00 by [#E4B29LWTR]

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