RuneScape Forum Archive | Fall From Grace

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2020

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But the true ground, the very foundation, were two articles of cloth. One was a white, short-sleeved, loose shirt made of a quilted pattern. The second was a long, dark gray cloth attached to a belt. Raphael carefully took hold on them, pulling them up to his face. He looked upon these expertly crafted pieces of equipment, finding the leather armour masterfully embossed with symbols which spoke to Raphael.

It was a very familiar design, bearing the motif of a dragon: the symbol of the Resistance. It couldn't be standard equipment for a Desert Assassin, despite its blackened nature. Someone had to have made this especially for him, Raphael concluded. "Telvern left those for you," Lamia then informed him, answering his short-lived mystery.

The second he heard those words, he ripped his eyes off of the obsidian-colored hide. He turned to his right, where he presumed the goddess lingered. Raphael's face appeared questionable, not exactly sure he heard that correctly. "Telvern?" he uttered in his perplexment.

" Igja, " she confirmed in her tongue, hearing her voice now to his left. "He desired for you to give them purpose."

He looked back upon them, staring deeply upon the symbols which faintly echoed still in his heart. ""Give them purpose," huh?" he quoted, stuck in his thoughts.

"I was entrusted a message as he departed, one I am to deliver to you upon your awakening." Lamia then mentioned, gripping Raphael's attention.

"What message?"

""If I can manage the courage to take off this twisted mask, I wish to tell you everything.""

"He wants to explain himself," he deduced rather angrily, turning his eyes back to the black garb. "Whatever pity story he wants to make up won't change a thing, I'm never going to forgive him."

"I believe it best you lend him your ear," the Neheztelian goddess advised, very strongly drawing Raphael's eye. "You require him for the impending strife, and his head hanging low would be crippling for your endeavors."
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27-Aug-2015 19:35:57

Jul

2020

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"So you'd have me listen to him so he can be useful to me later?"

" Igja, "

That was a valid point, Raphael concluded, scouring his eyes throughout this room. Although it was regrettable -- and certainly wasn't something Raphael wanted to do -- he knew that he needed Telvern for the fight ahead. Raphael's hands fastened around that which the genius had left behind, placing down the equipment back upon the table.

This dirty, loose-fitting shirt was no longer of service, he began working his hands down its buttons. Opening up and pulling off the shirt, revealing his lean, muscular, pale-skinned body. Much of it was riddled with the show of his life, scarred and battered, but whole nonetheless. Not to be the hypocrite of his own words, he wasted no time, briskly assembling each piece of equipment one-by-one.

From that short sleeved shirt, to the pieces of leather armour, and to the waist cloth. He reached the bottom of the pile, but one thing remained. It was something Raphael hadn't seen, immediately stealing his eyes. It was a dirtied purple cloth, covered in blood and ash and bare to its thready bones. Raphael gripped the cloth, holding it in the palm of his hand. He then noticed that this thin strip of cloth had been laying with a small piece of paper, which Raphael quickly pulled to his face.

It was a very brief and to-the-point letter, one which read, "I returned to that place, in search of something -- anything. This cloth was all to be salvaged, so I brought it back. It harbors little aspiration in my eyes, but I know it would serve you well. Cherish it."

The silver-haired young man slowly began putting the letter down, laying back upon the table where he found it.
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27-Aug-2015 19:37:17

Jul

2020

Serene End

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His eyes to this cloth, seeing upon its tattered, ash-covered body the symbol of a dragon... Yes, it was the symbol of the banner which stood as the only hope for humanity in this world. He just staring at that symbol almost like in a trance, a blank, plain expression on his face. But his eyes revealed it all, he was under attack. His mind corrupted, fraught with memories of many different varieties.

He saw all the burning bodies again, he heard them as they begged in their blood-curdling screams... Their faces tore into his head, seeing them all one-by-one-by-one... His face tightly locked into a grimace, quickly swinging his head away to reject the idea of thinking about all that again. His eyes now upon glass looking back at him, able now to confront himself.

The first thing his eyes did see was this strange mark he didn't remember having, forcing his left hand up to investigate. It was the first time he could take notice of it, a scar along his throat. It was the wound that should have killed him, the remembrance that he cheated death. His fingers anxiously, frightfully reached up and touched it, reluctantly feeling its rough, bumpy surface.

It would be a permanent reminder, a constant callback to the rising and falling of the Lumbridge Resistance. Raphael felt now as though he stood amongst of lifeless bodies of his fallen comrades, feeling now as the incinerating air scorched the walls of the Resistance into nothingness.

All those memories came in like the most horrific gale, obliterating all in its path of utter destruction. Their faces and voices came back to him, so painfully did it play. Raphael looked utterly petrified, staring at this reflection of himself. But he wasn't really looking at himself anymore, being now back at Lumbridge as it was scolded in fire.
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27-Aug-2015 19:38:05

Jul

2020

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He could truly see it now, their faces like blistered, bubbly masks, their eye sockets devoid of their eyes. Their expressions utterly writhing in agony, pleading for death to bring relief. Seeing them again brought tears to his eyes, his right foot took one step backwards. His sorrowful furor knew no end, terrorizing him to death. He was completely overcome by these memories, letting out weak, agonized, broken whimpers as he fell into shambles.

Recollections of fire-scorched visages and blood-stained streets consumed his mind, barraging him without relent. His body frozen by fright, his breathing quick and frantic. His inflicter, the one who brought these wounds to light, was the one he was looking to. He was staring at him in absolute horror, one who taunted him with these memories...

...Or perhaps he showed him the truth of the matter, Raphael was a failure for having lived while others died for him and his cause. Why did he have to somehow miraculously survive? What made him more worthy of life over all of the other men, women, and children who died that day? It shouldn't have been him, it shouldn't have. He promised to protect them, but he failed. He let them all die, he let their sacrifices go in vain...

As his mind looped around infinitely with all of the recollections, his teeth grew bare as his breath continued to tremble. No... his mind couldn't handle this anymore, for surely if it continued he would fall straight off the edge. His eyes panicked and pushed apart, ripping into the face of the traitor in a means of defense, the one who had the absolute audacity to survive while others perished.
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27-Aug-2015 19:40:29 - Last edited on 02-Sep-2015 14:44:22 by Serene End

Jul

2020

Serene End

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"Why, why, why?" a word that played with each face and voice he remembered. "Why, why, why, why, why, why?" He didn't want to look, didn't want to think about it anymore. He no longer held onto this wound, this scar made by her. He viciously gripped his left hand, turning into a weapon made out of fearful ire. He deployed his weapon, aiming it straight into the face that brought him this dismay.

" STOP!! " he dreadfully, sorrowfully cried in his hysteria. It brutally smashed into the visage of his oppressor, attempting to break the link of these chains which ensnared him in this agony. Shards of glass varying in size came falling down like raindrops turned into blades, letting out a thunderous crash as it furiously pummeled the ground. They laid shattered, just like the causer of their fall.

Lamia simply watched in silence, having felt the sudden incoming flood of terror even before the gates of Raphael's control let it loose. She looked on as Raphael's quivering fist impaled the mirror, his knuckles all broken open and trickling with red. It rolled down his hand, dripping upon the floor like a leaky faucet. It stained the floor, falling upon the broken image of what was once whole. He stood there hyperventilating for a moment, his wound's pain numb to him.

He lowered his hand as he regain control of himself, his hand twitched from the injury. He deserved this pain, feeling as the bits of glass grind and burrow further into his flesh with each of his hand's motions. That cloth still dangling loosely in his right hand, he quickly wrapped it around his bleeding hand. His mind still fresh with the terrible memories, but he had to stop it. His eyelids fell over his eyes so fraught with uneasiness and ire, taking in a massive intake of air.
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27-Aug-2015 19:41:21

Jul

2020

Serene End

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He tossed out a shaky, heavy sigh, suppressing his emotions by bottling them up. Once he began to slowly take back a sense of how he was, albeit that fear still burned on, Raphael turned towards the side of the bed he rose from. Sitting beside it was the one true thing loyal to him: his sword Falcon.

Raphael strapped the sword to his belt, prepared now for the fight to come. As he turned and began walking towards the door to exit this room, he heard then a rapid knocking at the door. "Raphael?" the silver-haired young man could hear a voice speak from behind the door. "Is everything all right in there?"

Outside of the room was Daevarro, trying to keep an ear open for any sound he might not like. As the young man did this, the door suddenly swung open, revealing Raphael. The two stared face-to-face, and Daevarro could instantly tell that something had definitely changed in Raphael. "You're finally awake!" expressed Daevarro with a sense of relief. "That's—"

"—Is everyone ready?" the silver-haired young man then asked Daevarro with quickness, interrupting him as he spoke.

"Y-yes..." he confirmed.

"Good," Raphael said, heading to his left to move past Daevarro.

But at the bottom corner of Daevarro's right eye, he noticed something odd drizzling down. Curious, he pulled his eyes down to take a look. To his surprise, he found that that thing moving down was blood, blood that came from Raphael's hand.

An alert went off in Daevarro's head, reacting to this discovery with a widening of his eyes. His shocked hazel eyes then quickly peered inside the room, seeing the shattered mirror that was painted with crimson. "Wait," he pleaded, looking back at Raphael. "...You're bleeding. What happened to your...?"
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27-Aug-2015 19:43:12

Jul

2020

Serene End

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Raphael, who had begun to walk away from Daevarro, heard as he took notice of his self-inflicted injury. He paused in his step, turning his head around to look back at the concerned individual. "Don't worry about it," Raphael calmly told the dark-robed young man, not a inch of pain in his voice.

What a nonchalant assurance, Daevarro thought, hearing as Raphael attempted with little effort to appease his qualms. His mind engaged in conflict, watching as the silver-haired young man stepped further away from him. But still, Daevarro knew, despite his worries, that he had to focus on the bigger picture along with everyone else.

Raphael stepped out into the entrance room, the room which stood up with ruins and swaying palm trees. His boots tread in sand, his purple eyes gazed out over the room with a stern look about them. Those under black cloth in this desert heat took notice of his appearance, peeling their eyes and placing them upon him.

As he entered further into this room, his eyes scanned every detail and every face. He found Shinon leaning against the wall beside the door leading into that extremely long hallway, and even Libitina upon her knees before the statue of Lamia. She humbly held her hooded head down, praying to the goddess, with a flock of people surrounding her and partaking in the same activity.

"Yer awake," Raphael's left ear caught a voice take notice of him, turning to his left. Sitting rather comfortably back on his chair was Calvin, his feet kicked up on a table in front of him with his hands behind his head. "How 'bout dat, eh? It's good ta see ya finally up an' at 'em, kid."

"Certainly took his time while he was at it..." growled Shinon with frustration. "Been sitting on our hands for a couple of days now, y'know..."

Calvin then smirked, closely examining Raphael's new attire. "Lookin' pritty snazzy dere," he went on. "So, good ol' egghead fixed ya up proper, eh? Gotta 'mit, even I'mma bit green..."
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27-Aug-2015 19:45:15

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2020

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"Let's get going," Raphael commanded, wasting absolutely no time in this, beginning pacing off towards the entrance.

Calvin immediately responded by getting up out of his chair and pursuing the young man, questionable with a raise of his eyebrow. "Woah, easy dere," Calvin reacted to a rather reckless haste, causing Raphael to pause. "Take it slow, pal. It ain't a race."

"Was it not you all who said we've little time as it is?" the young man returned as swift as lightning, turning his earnest eyes over to the lazy assassin.

"Eh, s'pose so," the assassin confirmed. "But ya ain't gonna git far if ya head off the second ya git up, y'know? C'mon, why don't ya just relax fer a sec? Git yer bearin's."

"We don't have time," he continued to reinforce his campaign. "I can move just fine, I don't need rest."

"...Ah, really?" the lazy assassin growled with frustration, turning towards the red-headed archer who simply let Raphael walk right past him. "Well, ain't ya gonna stop 'im?"

Shinon shrugged his shoulders, looking over at Calvin. "Gotta respect his determination," the archer commented. "C'mon... He says he's fine, so he's fine. Let's just get going."

"I... agree," concurred a familiar, yet unknown voice, though it sounded rather pained. "I think... I think we should go."

Listening in to this very hesitant voice as it attempted to speak up, all eyes hone in on the face from which this voice came. Quite the surprise for the lazy assassin Calvin, for whom his eyes stared upon was not what he expected. She stood there to Calvin's left, the quiet, stolid soul Libitina, fully equipped in her gear.

This pleasant moment was one Calvin never saw coming, like a efflorescence in the middle of Winter. "...Boss?" he uttered in shock.

"Well, well, she finally talks," Shinon pointed out, his lips then lifting up with a smug look. "Took you long enough... You only spent the whole time talking gibberish in front of that damn statue..."
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27-Aug-2015 19:47:29

Jul

2020

Serene End

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She then turned to the red-haired archer. "I just required some time with my queen..." she responded.

"...All righty, boss," Calvin mumbled, stunned. He let out a rather hard sigh, his stance let loose of its tension. "If dat's what ya think's best, den I support ya."

She looked up at Calvin as a light smile rose on her face, lifting up a pale-skinned face typically hanging low and motionless. "...Thank you," she kindly, warmly thanked, valuing the support of her second-in-command.

Bearing back a calm, composed expression, she turned to the other black clothed bodies around the area. Her eyes gazed upon a bowing crowd, all waiting hand-and-foot for her word. "It's time, let us depart." Libitina commanded in a strong, leader-like voice.

Planting her right foot forward, Libitina headed off, one step at a time. Calvin moved the moment she began to, and the rest of the Lamians followed just behind. Shinon slid his way through the jaws leading into the hallway of handprints and statues, leaving behind rather distracted and bothered young man. Daevarro's head hanging low, his heart shaken, his breath uneasy.

His mind full of many qualms, tension towards many things, particularly topics which involved the Neheztelian goddess. Like paddling upstream, so caught up in this current of thought that he didn't even realize that the conversation between everyone had ceased.

But there was one, one who stopped and took notice of him. While others were steadfast in their march onward to the next destination of their life, she stopped to notice the fledgling left astray. She walked over until she stood a couple of feet from him, realizing that he stewed in trouble.

"...Will you not be joining us, Dimri? " Daevarro then heard a quiet voice ask him, snapping him off of his illusion.
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27-Aug-2015 19:49:17

Jul

2020

Serene End

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Hearing as this voice pulled him out from this dark space he was in, his lowly head was uplifted. His hazel eyes glanced forward, finding Libitina there. He seemed almost reluctant to respond, but he knew he had to push aside this mixed feelings if he was meant to move forward.

He simply sighed, shrugging off the thoughts that consumed him. "Sorry..." Daevarro apologized briefly, then nodding his head. "Yes, I'm coming."

Treading towards the next place, into the ever-flowing current that led only forward, Daevarro very carefully placed one foot before the other. The dark-robed young man walked right by Libitina, carrying with him her eyes which drew to him as he passed. She turned around when he became several steps away from her, her eyes fixated upon him.

Headed onward, this current was a rapid of gray water, ambiguous and blurry was its destination. A trail of blood showed where they've been, with nothing left behind except failed promises and lost lives. Nothing left to lose, a soulless leader of the now departed Resistance led on. He was followed by those who were ready to see this future, whether it be salvation or damnation, but there was only one way to know for sure.

They walked down this long hallway, echoes filling this space surrounded in darkness. They traversed this plane, this plane of golden, shimmering sands. The scornful, unforgiving bearing infinitely upon it, a barren land filled with nothing. But the grains of sand were truly victims in this, swallowing whole the feet of any as if a desperate attempt to reach out and get attention.

The horizon slithering like a thousand snakes in their haste to escape a bird of prey, an endless, clear blue ceiling over their heads. Even as the sun's heavyhanded crush subsided, still their suffering could not end. Silver light would be cast down upon them, their feet sore and blistered from the journey.
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27-Aug-2015 19:53:51

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