RuneScape Forum Archive | Fall From Grace

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2020

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Optimistically joyous of this potential prospect, Calvin trotted off like he were a member of a parade. There was a blissful spring in his step, a big smile on his face, and a positive aura glowing around him. Now that the very happy assassin dissipated from their presence, everyone simply awaited Libitina to make the move.

She took the first step, but she couldn't help but to pause. With her rather enhanced vision, she could still make out Raphael and his company. Her crimson red eyes staring with meaning upon his back as he faded away, drawing the concern of her fellow Lamians. Regardless, she couldn't let herself get caught up in all of that.

Knowing that her allies waited on her, Libitina proceeded forward. She walked onward, and her eager, protective clan followed closely behind her. But even as she walked on, the red-eyed queen kept her intense, impassive gaze focused entirely upon Raphael. And everyone could see it, even feeling something strange take hold of their queen.

Indeed, Keres*e's words rang true. Not too far outside of Rimmington's bounds was an old, three-story building just off to the side of the beaten path. The building's skin was battered and bruised, its teeth kicked in. It was impressive in size, and there was once a rather proud balcony held atop the door. However, just as the door, that balcony had succumb to its demise.

The destruction and wreckage of the collapsed balcony laid out all in front of the building, making passage into the building a bit more difficult than simply walking through. The first to arrive, Raphael had to navigate around the ruins. Like a ship cutting through ice, the young man nimbly cut across a variety of different roadblocks with ease.
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28-Aug-2015 01:37:28

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2020

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A large pile of stone brink and part of a pillar laid in front of the kicked-in door, so Raphael carefully stepped over it. He finally took his first breath inside this building, sucking in air ancient and dusty. The inside of the building was as decrepit as its exterior, cobwebs hung out in every spot possible.

Raphael noticed his entry frightened many creatures, hearing the high-pitched squeak of rodents as they scurried back into the walls. It mattered little to him regardless, pressing onward into this ravaged building. In the center of the room was a long table draped in a dirty, old cloth. It was supposed to white, but time and age had certainly muddled its glow.

Stone varying in size and shape laid upon the table, having come from a small collapse in the ceiling. Chairs stood off to the table's sides, some so covered in cobwebs that they looked to have hair. Raphael glanced off to his right, seeing an old sword and shield laying broken against the wall that drew his legs. They bore a symbol of blue and white, colors Raphael now recognized as colors of a seemingly distant past.

He knelt down before it, seeing his reflection off of its tired, faded body. He looked to the shield in grief, his hand brushing off the dust and age. Blue and white... the colors of the old kingdom of Asgarnia. This monumental task of waging war with Governanti like the duel of a snake against a wounded mouse, the predator versus the prey.

Standing over him, Lamia looked to the troubled young man as he pondered this heavy burden. "I empathize with your qualms Palaemmir, " she conveyed to him, sensing his uneasiness. "but you cannot stead your step forward if you stead your gaze backward."
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28-Aug-2015 01:37:41

Jul

2020

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She was right, Raphael concluded. After all, how could one be certain of where they're going if they're too busy looking the other way? He then stood up off the ground, motivated to change this hopeless, corrupt world of the Solasúians. He had to reach down deep inside, he couldn't let the effort and sacrifices of the people of the Resistance go in vain.

The dark-robed young man Daevarro and Shinon quickly traversed the ruined obstacle course, cautiously stepping over the rubble to get inside. They too take their first breath inside this crumbling establishment, finding Raphael over to their right. Their leader turned to them, having taken notice of their entry. "Let's set up for the night," he told them.

Acknowledging the order of their leader, they begin to use their environment to their advantage. Taking things no longer being used for the purpose they were born for, they began to set up. And once the members of the Desert Assassins arrived, they assisted in this movement. The morning sun fell down upon their heads as they worked hastily to renovate this space to their liking, a good deal of work put into it.

But they managed to do so in a brief time, thanks in no small part to the multitude of bodies on hand. They nestled around a few different fire pits they had set up, keeping them fed with broken-down pieces of wood from the chairs and tables in the room. The sight and smell of the fire was warm and inviting, reinvigorating their spirits.

Shortly after their camp's completion, Calvin had arrived to the scene. He casually hopped over the debris to enter this ancient place, his feet perfectly sticking the landing. Everybody's eyes turned to him and lit up, taking notice of a rather large sack he carried over his shoulder. He was like the Santa Claus of nourishment, even bearing a beard that was slightly thicker than he would like.
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28-Aug-2015 01:37:55 - Last edited on 09-Sep-2015 13:21:15 by Serene End

Jul

2020

Serene End

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Several of the black-robed Lamians sprung to life, smelling the fresh, yeasty aroma from the bag beckon for them. Having been severed from the rest of the gang, the former traitor Shinon couldn't resist his stomach's bellow anymore. Calvin stood over the bag, planting his hands behind his head. He watched over his clansmen claw through the bag like they were digging a massive hole.

"One loaf 'n' drink each, fellas," he sternly enforced. It didn't matter that they were limited to one, it was a blessing to actually have something put in front of them after almost a week of living off of barely anything.

Shinon cautiously approached Calvin and the others, not trusting a single one of them. He stood there, glaring down at the bag like it were a trap.Calvin turned over to the red-haired archer. "Go on," Calvin encouraged Shinon. "They might be a lil' wild, but they ain't gonna rip ya arm off. Dig 'n!"

Shinon reached his hands into the back as suggested, albeit rather carefully. Pulling his prize up from the back like a blind man's crane game, Shinon found himself with a loaf of bread and a bottle of sweet, delicious mead, turning to Calvin. "See? Still got ya arm, ain't ya?" jokingly questioned the assassin.

"Where'd you even get all this?" asked Shinon.

The red-headed archer then saw as Calvin's lips arched up into a grin, watching as he closed right eye. "Oh, y'know..." he slowly responded, searching for the words. "I, uh... 'borrowed' it."

""Borrowed it", huh?" the archer quoted with suspicion, but then just passively shrugging his shoulders. "Eh, whatever works for you, works with me."

All of them did their best to savor their food, not wanting to finish it too quickly and be eaten alive on the inside by their disappointed stomach. And even despite their plight, Calvin and his fellow clansmen found a way to enjoy their time in company. Their laughter and cheer went well with their bread and mead, enveloping the air.
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28-Aug-2015 01:38:12

Jul

2020

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It might not sound like much, but they made the best of what they had. Their day flew by like time itself was anxious to see the events of tomorrow unfold, but its hands would stop right around the setting of the sun.

A magnificent, eye-stealing sky of fiery oranges, yellows, and scarlets washed across the sky like a painter's best work. It was a ceiling that Raphael remembered well, being that the atmosphere was exactly like this in that strange... dream he had where he saw and heard as Lord Divus spoke to him.

Well, it had been a little more than a year since Divus' death at the hands of Raphael's most hated enemy, the day his whole life fell on its head. But the ear of every person in the building was snatched away from them, being attracted to a sound from the entrance. It was the sound of rocks tumbling down onto the ground, the sound of a foreign footstep.

All eyes immediately draw to its source like weapons, but those arms were put down the moment they realized that it was the merchant-turned-assassin Kereske who arrived at their door. Calvin was easy even before his sight, hailing him with a single wave of his hand. "Heya," he greeted the merchant. "How'd it go?"

Kereske came forward, raising a rolled up sheet of paper. "Far better than anticipated actually," he reported, stepping over to Calvin and Libitina. "With a proper plan and some luck, we might just pull this off."

"Luck, huh?" the social assassin said with a grin. "No prob, I got dat on my side."

"What did you find?" asked Daevarro from across the room.

Kereske turned to the dark-robed youth, seeing him sitting against a wall. "Flaws," he answered with confidence. "lots of them."

"Oh?" eagerly spoke Calvin. "Do tell!"
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28-Aug-2015 01:38:35 - Last edited on 09-Sep-2015 13:21:44 by Serene End

Jul

2020

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"The castle is, well..." Kereske proceeded to explain before pausing, reconsidering his choice of words in his head. "Well, to be blunt, whoever designed this castle was an idiot. The castle is ridiculously decorated, like this is to be a personal palace rather than a military stronghold. By the looks of it, it would appear that the Solasúians' knowledge and familiarity of Gielinor's materials is still rather infantile."

"Las' time I was at Governanti, I 'ad 'erd sum stuff 'bout dat," Calvin mentioned, supplying the conversation. "'Parently sum spiffy noble got picked ta oversee the reconstruction-a the city, since Balor 'n' company were too busy gearin' up fer the fight at Lumbridge."

"A nobleman who prefers his place to look rich and fancy?" said Shinon in a caustic tone. "Go figure..."

"There wasn't a 'ole lot-a support fer Darris," continued the social assassin, then shaking his head. "No one liked 'im... at all."

"It seems Earl Darris' project is yet finished," the merchant added. "The castle remains an active construction site, with scaffolding everywhere."

"So ya callin' dis-a good one?" Calvin spoke with eagerness, Kereske's words like a fine note in his ear.

"If by that you mean perfect climbing conditions, then yes."

"What about the knights?" Daevarro questioned.

"This is where the plan will require luck," said Kereske. "Ormemel is fairly well guarded, and not by humans. It would appear that the Earl has recruited Solasúians to defend the city, which makes this attack far more risky than what we're used to. The city gates are closed tight, and standing atop the city walls are Solasúian archers at all times. Each archer comes equipped with a horn of sorts, so they can alert the city at any time."

"So they finally startin' ta take us seriously!" Calvin uttered in shock. "Man, an' 'ere I was hopin' we'd just swoop on 'n an' 'ave-a party..."

"Party indeed, and that's where I've come up with a plan."

"...Eh?"
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28-Aug-2015 01:38:50

Jul

2020

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"Much to my surprise, as I was scouting the streets, I came across a crier helping to spread the word of "a most extravagant celebration, one beyond any other."" explained the merchant-turned-assassin, holding up a flyer.

Hearing this spoken from Kereske, Calvin jumped up from the ground in response. Kereske stepped over to his superior, handing him one of many flyers he had tucked under his arm. Calvin turned his pale blue eyes down the paper, scrolling them across the obnoxiously decorated paper. The use of colors upon this flyer were absolutely overwhelming, rendering its reader temporarily blind.

Calvin really had to shake it off, trying to repair his disoriented sense of vision. "Interestin'..." mumbled Calvin as he scrolled his eyes across each shining word.

"When does this party start?" Raphael's voice then suddenly chimed in, wanting to know more about the plan.

"A week and a half," answered the merchant-turned-assassin, delivering disappointment. "In the meantime, we can prepare ourselves."

Takin a peek upon this flyer, the angry Lamian Shakir stood beside Calvin. His eyes delved through painful, eye-blistering colors to read on. "So you intend on striking during the festivities?" he then asked, curiously.

"Indeed," responded the merchant, his fellow Lamian. "Everyone will be so enthralled in the party that they'll forget about any threat to their lives. That's when we strike."

"Sounds like-a fine plan ta me," expressed Calvin, but then his eye was caught by a particular part of the flyer. It was an image which took up much of the canvas space, an image that could have been better. It was a very crude piece of work, an amateur's hand surely behind its creation.

It was the drawing, a woman who should be much better looking in person than depicted here in this picture. The assassin's index finger pointed to her out of interest, bringing Kereske's attention back over. "Who's dis?" he asked. "Whoever she is, she's-a catch..."
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28-Aug-2015 01:41:06

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2020

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"...A-ah yes, I believe that's who they call the Lady of Wine," Kereske replied, taken back by the rather crude depiction of her. "Earl Darris of Ormemel inherited a statue of her from his father, who has recently passed."

The merchant-turned-assassin's then grew heavy with thought, pondering the many years of experience and life he had to carry in his heart and on his back. "It's a statue that the Earl is particularly fond of," he mentioned. "and one which carries a lot of... strange air about it."

"How so?"

"Outside of Ormemel, I have never heard about her in any ancient Solasúian mythology, religious or not." the merchant explained. "There's a rather odd superstition which is well-spoken throughout the city of nobles, and it's one that everyone there seems to take quite seriously. It's been a while since I've heard it, but I believe it goes: "waste not a droplet of wine before her, lest the Lady's wrath befalls thee.""

"Heh..." lightly laughed Shinon. "Who would've thought a bunch of gods would cower at some stupid, ridiculous superstition?"

"As if spilling some wine would invoke some kind of anger..." Shakir ridiculed, seemingly in accordance with Shinon.

Calvin turned to Shinon, then looked to Shakir. He shook his head in disapproval, finding Shakir's poking fun of their belief rather disappointing. "Now, now... no need ta jump ta conclusions," Calvin replied to his comrades' criticisms.

"It is a statue, right?" Daevarro asked in curiosity from across the room.

"Yes," Kereske responded. "I presume she becomes angry, but... how?"

"Y'all might jus' be overthinkin' it," professed Calvin. "It probably ain't gonna help us much, so let's just stick wit' our plan."

"Uh, yes..." said the merchant in a faltering voice. "But I'll need to go over the plans with Telvern once he arrives."

"Does he know where to find us?" asked the curious young man Daevarro.
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28-Aug-2015 01:41:25

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2020

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"I made sure to inform him of our location beforehand," replied Kereske. "If our initial plans ended in failure, this was to be the place that we'd retreat to."

"You truly intend on letting him into our plan, Kereske?" questioned Shakir with a quick, spiteful lash of his tongue, glaring straight at the merchant. "Have you forgotten that he turned his back on us, on Jeen drág Essa? "

"C'mon," said Calvin. "ya don't need ta take it dat way."

"No, I haven't forgotten," Kereske replied to his fellow Lamian in an orderly, calm fashion. "But think for a moment, Shakir: what would we be if we sought vengeance for actions we did not first try to understand? We must be fair and open-minded with him, withhold our judgment until we understand the situation entirely."

"I'm telling you, Telvern will simply sabotage any plan we offer him," the angry Lamian insisted, continuing to push his belief. "It's what his kind do best: inject their venom and wait until their victim dies."

"You condemn him, yet it seems you—"

"—That's enough!" a voice very rare to speak up did so, rupturing with a bold, threatening shout which jolted a lot of people with shock. They fixed their widened gazes backwards, seeing their queen Libitina staring over at them. "Shakir..."

"Y-yes, my queen?"

"I understand how you feel, but we mustn't allow our emotions to cloud our judgment," she strongly advised him, her red eyes cast straight upon him.

Despite the harsh, sharp tone in which she spoke, Shakir could feel kindness and consideration in her words. Having not a word to speak against Libitina, the angry Lamian simply took a bow. There was not a bone in his body which urged him to press forward, for such an action would be disrespectful to his queen. He decided to take her advice with seriousness and hold his tongue, not wishing to think those horrible thoughts once more.
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28-Aug-2015 01:41:49

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2020

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Kereske then cleared his throat, trying to break the awkward silence. "I suppose the manner is worth investigation," believed the merchant, the enigmatic state dug into his mind. "We have at least ten days until the party, so... Enjoy the peace and quiet, but best not adjust yourself to it."

"Well, have fun with your waste of time," Shinon said to the merchant in a dismissive tone, laying back against the wall with his hands behind his head. "If you need me, better get in line. I ain't getting up 'til tomorrow, so you're just gonna have to wait."

The conversation halted, awaiting the arrival of the strategist to the scene. But to be honest, not many wanted to talk about it anyway. Many just wished to lay their battered bodies to rest, to stop all animation for just a moment. A stagnant moment was not always so terrible, and the members of the Resistance cherished it.

The simple act of watching the daylight fading had an entirely new meaning to it, for those who they once knew and called friend could no longer see this view. Raphael gazed up from the darkness, feeling the specks of the sun's warming light hit him from small holes in the ceiling. He watched as dusts waltzed whimsically in the sunlight, enchanted by the beautiful radiance finding its way in.

A week and a half... such a long time to wait despite being merely grains of sand in the hourglass of time. He had much upon his mind, his hand slowly reaching up and reluctantly clasping his throat. His fingers landing upon the scar invoked visions of rage, but awakened a sense of self-redemption. He needed to redeem himself, he needed to ensure that the lives lost were not in vain.
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28-Aug-2015 01:42:10

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