RuneScape Forum Archive | Fall From Grace

Jul

2020

Serene End

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He could feel every inch of the sawblade as it carved through his flesh, crudely slicing open veins which spewed a gruesome amount of blood. Like sawing wood did these punishers handle it, turning bone into a fine, bloody, splintery powder. It was evident that these punishers were luxuriating in every second of his blood-curdling screaming. This savage act attracted hardly a glowing eye in sight, for such sights were quite commonplace in Ardougne.

The eyes of the group which found it scattered quickly, feeling sickness overtake them. They searched, eventually finding an old but steady building. It was at least two floors in height, its construction board and spacious. The group proceeded to the entrance, passing under a balcony overlooking the entire marketplace.

They entered the tavern, a packed, lively threshold. Their ears drawing in many sounds, the chatter, the cheap talk, the drunken laughing, the clank of glasses, even the musical strum of a lute in play. They delved deeper into this warm, intoxicated environment, passing a god or two who were becoming rather 'acquainted' with some of the human workers here, urging some folks to suggest that they get a room. Further observation revealed that some actually did, being whisked away upstairs for quite the night ahead.

But the place to be was the center of the room, those fortunate enough to get a seat were warmed by a fire recently stroked. The smell of burning wood gave the air a wondrous feel, like they were on the cusp of a great outdoor adventure. Raphael and his company found themselves now at the back of the bar, standing before a counter and several stools.

Almost every single seat beside the bartender was taken by some mean-looking folk, but there was one which stuck out from the pack. A Solasúian male down on his luck, knocking back the liquor hard. He was in his thirties, shave headed, thickly stubbled, and he had bandages wrapped over his right eye.
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17-Mar-2017 19:18:13

Jul

2020

Serene End

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Beyond that god, Raphael approached the bartender, careless of any person he happened to bump into on the way there. The bartender, a female Solasúian dressed rather provocatively, turned onto her presumed next customer, her eyes giving him a rather thorough, slow, toe-to-head look. "Is there... something I can help you with?" she questioned him, seductively.

"Yeah, yeah, gimme the best you've got," suddenly ordered Shinon from the back, rushing up to the front.

Upon seeing Shinon, the bartender's demeanor instantly changed. Her eyes then sharply lunged at Shinon, glaring at him as he eagerly nestled into his chair. "Who granted you freedom, lowbreed?" the Solasúian maliciously spewed. "We do not serve to your ilk."

"Oh, you don't know?" the archer then asked her, being offered little else than a deathly stare. "See us here? Yeah, we're good pals with the Lord of Lords, the King of Kings, the God of Gods, the Ruler of Everything, the True Hero King Silas Alverra himself."

The moment Shinon uttered that name, the bartender's intimidating tune fell on its head. She froze, paralyzed, her face completely petrified. Her legs quaked at the thought, frantically turning her head back over to Raphael. Yes, the silver-headed one had all sorts of unusual characters behind him, so it couldn't be a coincidence...

She then bowed her head to Raphael, the one whom she presumed to be the leader of this pack of wolves. "P-please forgive me," she pleaded in a tone like begging for her life. "You can relay to Lord Silas that I'll have his wine ready by tomorrow's light."

"Yeah, good," Shinon played along, acting all rough-neck. "Now, 'bout that ale..."

"Yes, of course," the bartender acknowledged, hectically cleaning out a cup. "Anything you need."
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17-Mar-2017 19:21:43

Jul

2020

Serene End

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The bartender urgently moved all across her station, accidentally dropping all sorts of stuff. Shinon was absolutely loving it, having made this god's skin practically crawl with such discomfort, such fright. "Hurry up, my throat's startin' to dry!" the archer ordered, completely enthralled by this power.

Her pace hastened upon his request, swiftly bringing the drink to his side. It was quite obvious that the archer was more than enjoying this, watching as this god squirmed around and be forced to please him. But his allies weren't so pleased by this sight, realizing now that they were merely tools meant to intimidate.

Yes, without knowing it, they acted in Silas's benefit, for the fear that this god felt was as genuine as can be. She acted with such terror, like memories of a prior experience flashed in her mind. To just hear that name and shudder with such horror was all-too-telling, a dissatisfying feeling to have caused this to her, even if she was a god.

The bartender then stood before Raphael, her eyes intentionally missing his. "Is there anything I might get you? A drink, some food, perhaps a woman?"

"Just some beds."

"Help yourselves to any room of your choosing," she timidly informed him, her neck crumbling, her head lowering. Given this power, Raphael wasted no time, withdrawing from this world for this ephemeral moment. But he was not about to take it without compensation, placing down some coin to pay for the accommodations.

This act caught the bartender rather off-guard, her eyes finding the courage to gaze upon that handsome face. But Raphael stood there only briefly, quickly stepping away from the counter. He ascended up the stairs, forsaking the crowds, the energy, the tipsy joy and hollers.
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17-Mar-2017 19:22:52

Jul

2020

Serene End

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Among the folks at the counter was that bandaged-eyed fellow, hearing this exchange between the group and the bartender. His left eye followed after Raphael, intrigued. But as the young man disappeared from sight, the bandaged-up Solasúian couldn't help but to laugh lightly, chugging down his liquor. He was quite certain that a kid like him could never be a thug of Silas Alverra.

Upstairs, Raphael's eyes scanned the area, looking for a place to lay his weary head. It took hardly any time at all, not being picky about this. Without word to any of his allies, he entered the room, closing the door behind him. This well earned sleep just shortly incoming, but only if its message can find his hand.

Raphael was in mayhem, churning like a restless sea in his bed. His mind at rest, yet never at peace. His sweat glands profusely pouring even as he wore no blankets, tormented by a series of night terrors. But he would not wake, be released from these chains, his eyes forced to recount these memories...

And just as a concerned parent, Lamia observed this sight with much dismay, much melancholy in her heart. She could sense these horrors hound him, those immortal crimson-red flames which devoured Lumbridge and its people. He grieved painfully in his sleep, feeling these smoldering agony tear him limb from limb.

She tenderly placed her hand on him, affectionately stroking her thumb upon his sweat-drenched forehead. "Shh, shh, shh..." she gently whispered, soothing his internal discord like a lullaby.

She was water, the enemy of fire, her voice the rain which felled the flames. His grimaced face unlocked, his sleeptalk silenced, his body loosened and motionless, he was finally at peace. This glass cage shattered, forcing his eyes to bear witness to this no longer.
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17-Mar-2017 19:26:21

Jul

2020

Serene End

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Lamia watched him, smiling kindly upon his now calm, serene expression. She stood over him as he slept the night, brushing her hand through his hair. Before she or anyone realized it, the morning sun rose out from the earth, gracing this city of sin and anarchy.

They went now, poised, unopposed by the potential dangers to their existence. Boldly did they tread onward, leaving behind a generous tip for the bartender. They poured out onto the streets, abandoning the tavern which still had quite a few characters inhabiting its space. They sucked in one big whiff of this putrid atmosphere, having slowly gotten used to the city air.

They cut a straight path across the body of the marketplace, cutting through the growing crowd of gods in the start of their day. With waning endurance, they went from the gullet of one monster and into the entrails of another. The group found themselves entrenched in another disturbing environment.

A road twisted and winded on ahead of them, yet between what was remaining of its cobblestone were rodents and insects of the filth. They found themselves in a place of utter destitution, a great forlorn labyrinth of rotting wood and famine. Upon the outskirts of this road alive, there stood hundreds of homes. These 'homes' were but a few boards of tall, weathered wood aligned vertically with some tattered cloth draped atop.

These 'homes' housed an incalculable amount of tatter-clothed adults and children alike, crawling out from under these structures, grateful to live another day. They were practically walking corpses, drained of all meat and life. They were all pale and most were diseased, the air assaulted by a bombardment of violent hacks. Most of them bore eyes that shone a blue light, proving that this world was cruel and unfair to even the godkind.
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17-Mar-2017 19:28:21

Jul

2020

Serene End

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But the gift of life was not one bestowed unto some, the bodies of those unfortunate souls laid in the exact same place where they perished, some even cast on the side of the street. They were stripped completely bare of all possession, attended to only by swarms of flies as though morticians. Their still, sallow faces looked to be in utter anguish and horror, their jaws dangling open, their eyesockets dripping with maggots like the very last tears they wept upon this earth.

Those still living shivered as they huddled around the corners of streets, basking in the warmth of a small flame like a lifeline. It was a matter of life or death for some, spawning much infighting among them. It was a desperate situation, much of their body heat lost to the cold of the night and the wet of the rain.

But some chose to avoid the battle, their heads pressed into walls, their faces mostly hidden, their voices crying and moaning. They dug their nails and banged their heads into those walls, gripped with a grim, terrible malady that they could tolerate no longer. Some hung inside their homes, curled up on the ground in a fetal position. Their eyes so soulless, some sobbing, some looked almost like they hoped to die.

But as soon as those hollow souls gazed upon those from halfway across the world, life came into the lifeless A glint of light shined with their bag-worn eyes, a breath of air came into their lungs for the first time in an eternity. They were like gods of wealth treading upon the ground of the poor and deprived, drawing in the panhandlers.

Several people flocked in front of and around the group, reaching out their hands for something, anything. They were so compacted together, triggering a panic attack in anyone with even the slightest hint of claustrophobia. "Please spare me some coin," beseeched one soul, muffled under the dizzying blur of dozens of other pleading voices. "My little girl is ill! She needs a remedy! Please!"
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17-Mar-2017 19:29:41

Jul

2020

Serene End

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But they forced themselves forward, yet the beggars stubbornly continued to pursue them. No matter what, they continued to stay in their direct view, getting right up in front of them. Raphael had enough, wanting to waste no more time with unnecessary things. He began forcing his way across the crowd, pushing and shoving them aside rather than somehow threading a way through. He was angry and had very little pity left to spare, especially after the seemingly infinite number of faces he's gazed upon these past couple of weeks.

Some of the others followed in Raphael's stead, pushing and shoving for the others in their group who couldn't do it themselves. The hooded old man Neeson was the first to step up, whipping out his axe and raising it up high, believing it a proper force of deterrence. Indeed, many of them backed down, but some continued to hang on like leeches, practically clinging to the ankles of those wealthy-looking individuals. "Please help me," the soul pleaded, a little boy fragile and feeble. "I don't know if my mom's going to make it another day..."

Within the body of those from Governanti, Telvern hung back behind those leading the way, his fingers tempted to unleash one of his summons to clear the remaining beggars. Calvin caught up to the genius, walking side-to-side with him. "'Ey," he greeted, observing then as Telvern's body language tensed up. "Ya got any-a dem magical ponies?"

"I believe I've already informed you that I don't," Telvern told him, irritated.

"Aw, c'mon, I ain't dumb," Calvin replied, attracting Telvern's attention. "Y'know, sometimes I know ya better than y'know yaself. Ya got one stashed, I know ya do."

"And if I do?"

"Can it 'eal sickness?"

"I'm afraid not."

"That a lie too?" Calvin then suspected. "Look, I get you're all 'bout logic and all that good stuff. It's a thing I accept and respect 'boutcha... but look 'round ya, look at these people! Can you imagine havin' to live like 'em!?"
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17-Mar-2017 19:32:47

Jul

2020

Serene End

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"No, because that would be an abhorrent waste of time," Telvern callously stated, catching Calvin off-guard. "If we concerned ourselves exclusively with the livelihood of every person we met, we'd never the time to consider our own goals, our own lives, and thus we would caught in a perpetual cycle of gross self-denial. Altruism is noble, but in most cases, those people we wish to give charity to seek only to survive. They hold no higher aspiration or purpose for their lives, their only desire is to simply get by, and that is in no way beneficial to either you nor them."

"How's that not beneficial ta them?" the assassin returned. "They get ta live!"

"For now," the genius replied. "But considering the conditions of their environment, it'd be only a matter of time before they're struck again by illness. And what then? To say that they "get to live" is not entirely appropriate, no, perhaps it would be more accurate to say "their suffering is prolonged". Providing these people with such a service would be mere palliation and would truly be of no benefit to either party."

Disgruntled, Calvin broke his gaze from Telvern, giving chase to this idea no longer. He knew Telvern would never sacrifice a pouch for them, and in some twisted way, Calvin actually understood why. Like watering disease-ridden crops, keeping them alive one way, only to watch them die in another. Indeed, curing their many maladies would be treating a symptom, not addressing the true, definitive cause of their suffering.

Beyond this topic, the group managed to break free, escaping the putrid stink of rotting, decaying flesh. Yet this was not the end of the attack upon their noses, for the closer they drew to it, the more stunned and offended their senses would become. They came so close enough, feeling the sea breeze brush gently across their skin.
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17-Mar-2017 19:34:31 - Last edited on 20-Mar-2017 15:07:03 by Serene End

Jul

2020

Serene End

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And so they arrived, managing past the nightmare of the poor district. They reawakened, locating the land's edge. The hungry cries of the seagull beckoned them, welcoming them to the shore. But one could not make out its golden sands, for they were buried beneath disgusting filth like a treasure chest.

Yes, the source of that unfathomably foul stench revealed, for the sea was no longer itself. It was polluted and corrupt, its once crisp, clean ocean water now playing the role of fetid, illness-breeding septic water. There was an aqueduct of sorts not too far from them, carrying that vile waste water out of the city and dumping it into the ocean.

Ahead of them was a network of piers, or at least their remains. They were utterly wrecked, smashed apart as if to prevent people from crossing them. The destroyed carcasses of ships past still to be found, their splintered ribs pierced through their watery graves. Yet, despite these attempts to destroy all trace of water travel, there did stand one last piece.

Across a very perilously assembled pier was the sole survivor, a ship which appeared to have seen better days. The group wished to examine the ship further, however they were unnerved by the treacherous state of the pier. They acted towards it like they were crossing a frozen lake, making certain that it was safe before they traveled across.

The wood creaked under them, finding then a rather enthusiastic fellow. He appeared in his twenties with a long, blonde hair, kept together in a messy, unkempt ponytail. But he was clearly a halfling, for his eyes shined an unusual brown. His clothes quite dirty, wearing a barely-white chemise, some leather bracers, dark brown trousers, and some long leather boots.

He spanned his arms out to his sides, beholding the group in his view. "Aha, so you must be the lucky ones," believed the rather enthusiastic fellow, eagerly taking Raphael's hand and shaking it. "I'm Captain Thaumas, it's a pleasure!"
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17-Mar-2017 19:35:48

Jul

2020

Serene End

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Raphael was moved very little by this fellow's high energy, a clash of opposites certainly. The prince was without emotion like he were allergic to them, to the captain who was as excited as a kid in a toy store. This captain Thaumas then let go of Raphael's hand, practically bouncing in his step.

Thaumas then turned to his pier, quickly waving his hand in a beckoning fashion. "Come, come! I must introduce all of you to her."

""Her"?" quoted Raphael, following behind Thaumas. "Who is "her"?"

"Why, Eternal God King of the West, Glorious Silas Alverra , of course," he proudly proclaimed, striking everyone oddly with that excessively long, completely ridiculous name. "You'll be the first to admire her magnificence up close! Er, well, besides me and Lord Silas, of course..."

"...What?" Raphael's questioning culminated into blatant confusion.

"I'm thinkin' he's talkin' 'bout the boat," Calvin tried answering.

""BOAT"?! How dare you!" irefully bellowed the captain, then quickly clearing his throat as though to regain his composure. "She is a ship , not a boat! It's a common misconception, especially these days, so I suppose I can't think ill of you for mistaking the two. Just remember: a ship can fit a boat, but a boat can't fit a ship."

"Uh huh," the social assassin mindlessly responded.

"And even still, Eternal God King of the West, Glorious Silas Alverra isn't just some ship, no one ordinary tool," he went on, making some chuckle to themselves as he proceeded to call it that absurd name in its entirety. "She is the last remaining, floating, intact watercraft in all of the godlands. She is a majestic vessel, a beautiful maiden who can whisk you away across the ocean and into your dreams! But wow, what an opportunity for you all! There's absolutely nothing in this world that can quite compare to being aboard her for the first time."
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17-Mar-2017 19:40:01

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