RuneScape Forum Archive | Fall From Grace

Jul

2020

Serene End

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The angry torrent came closer and closer to Telvern, the genius who stood by himself, but was not alone. No, a being resided behind him, a monstrous beast of hulking steel that became one with Governanti's skyline. This oddly-proportioned, but jarring giant awaited its conjurer's voice. And it didn't need to wait very long before it received its first command...

"Kill them all," its master, Telvern Thaddeus, sternly issued. "Do not allow a single one to slip past us." His word was all the beast required.

The light of its gleaming, orange eyes suddenly began to burn like a hot, wild inferno. It uttered then a series of strange, deep sounds as if grumbles reverberating inside a metallic funnel. The approaching storm finally came, barging ferociously towards Telvern. Yet still, the steely genius remained neutral, even as one god came practically a fingernail away from him. But there was a reason for Telvern's composure, a very good reason.

It suddenly came crashing from the sky, similar to a meteorite striking the very earth. The massive, steel fist of Telvern's beast splintered the ground. A great, frightening tremble emitted from the impact, shaking this straight road like a shiver down the city's spine. A thick cloud of dust was kicked up from the punch, its sheer power creating an unnatural, but ephemeral gust of wind, causing Telvern's hair and clothes to behave most spasmodically. And to the disheartening realization of those resisting Solasúians around, a great number of their brethren were swept up in the attack...

Yes, they were at the helm, the frontlines on this onslaught. A group comprised mostly of ex-Loyal Knights, who had banded faithfully beside each other just as the days of old. They sported most proudly their black-steel of loyalty, yet these full-armoured knights were like tin cans under the monstrous creature's gargantuan fist.
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02-Nov-2017 16:46:15

Jul

2020

Serene End

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As they were effortlessly flattened under the knuckles of the steel beast, their blood and guts gruesomely squirted everywhere. It covered overtop everything: the road, the buildings, and in particular Telvern, sullying his garb's black symbolism of Neheztelian blood with the crimson red of Solasúian blood. Yet he stood stagnant as the shock rippled through the air as if an explosion, his steely, apathetic disposition unchanged.

The towering behemoth then lifted its gigantic fist from the shattered earth, tattered bits of flesh drooping off of its knuckles like slime. What remained of the knights, aside from their completely crushed armour, was a pool of blood and smashed innards. The state of their bodies was grotesque, lying there as a disfigured, irrecognizable pulp of flesh. Each of their bones were snapped to near non-existence, but some stuck out of the bloody paste.

The eyes of every soul laid upon this sight, stunned and stomach-turned. So horrific and repulsive was it that some quickly reconsidered their efforts, turning tail and scurrying away in a sheer panic. But it was already too late for them, the steel mountain then swiping its massive hand across Governanti's vigilante army. It slammed into the sides of multiple gods, both running towards and away from the beast. Some gods managed to react to the incoming attack, getting as far away from the colossus's range as possible.

Yet the unfortunate many captured in the monstrous behemoth's attack were carried against their will into the nearest building. They were smashed into that house, causing it to explode in a cloud of dust. The impact sent debris blasting across the air like shrapnel, hitting any Solasúian nearby who managed to avoid the attack. And the misfortune of those unfortunate many who miraculously survived the initial impact continued, for two-stories worth of wood, glass, stone, and adamas came raining on top of them, burying them alive.
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02-Nov-2017 16:50:48

Jul

2020

Serene End

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Telvern simply stood where he had been since the beginning, stooped in the dead and nigh-dead. Yes, he could hear the pitch of their screams grow higher. The pleas for death by those who somehow lived, their hands desperately outstretched toward him. But he glared down upon them with pitilessness and contempt in his heart, watching the light fade from their eyes.

He watched it countlessly, atrocity after atrocity happening all around him. With every death, another piece of himself was murdered. He was so dulled that any sense of himself, even basic principles like morality, had disappeared. Yet this shell of a man, who had replaced all of himself with emptiness and hate, was filled to the eye with sorrow and grief. He cradled it so very tenderly, an object so precious that it was like the last piece -- the only piece -- of him that was still alive, that had ever lived.

The gods continued to keep coming at Telvern, and yet his stillness remained firmly persistent. His monumental beast, utilizing both its arms and legs, continued to utterly decimate the gods. Countless gods fell prey to it, reduced to indeterminable piles of bloody entrails. Its overwhelming power ravaged the earth repeatedly, destroying even more building in the process.

Yet, as his gargantuan creation defended him with utmost success, a perplexing feeling swelled inside of Telvern like a deep infection. His body grew sore and weak, feeling out-of-breath, despite his just standing here. In fact, he could barely manage to do that; an affliction he found...comfort in. Relief came over him, the first sign of life in him found within this field of gruesome death.

In the far back of this vigilante mass of Governanti's finest, there stood a god. An old, grizzled veteran, with a myriad of scars that could tell anyone the story of her life. She wore her cape representing her family and her armour with great pride, this retired suit from her younger days as a Loyal Knight of the Royal Family.
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02-Nov-2017 16:57:02

Jul

2020

Serene End

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The old lady stood there as others rushed past her, peddling forward into what appeared to be a most certain death. Her gaze affixed upon the steel bringer-of-death, its monstrous visage flaring memories of old. Yes, she was there back then, as the gods invaded Gielinor. Under the command of then-Commander Silas Alverra, she was there when they invaded Taverley. And she was there too when its summoners gave birth to this...monstrosity.

"Brothers and sisters," the old Loyal Knight called out as loudly as her aged throat would allow. "Seek not the conjurer, but his summon! It is the greatest threat!"

Having heard the old lady, a younger, taller, more muscular god became her herald to spread her message. "Listen well, brothers and sisters," shouted the god, grabbing their attention. "Cease your efforts to oppose the weakling. Seek the monster behind the monster!"

The youthful, higher-pitched voice of the muscular god radiated across the airwaves, and most seemed to agree to this shift. Indeed, the steely genius Telvern even concluded that it was a sound, logical change. Rather than overrun the summoner with the giant beast as his protection, overrun the giant beast with the summoner as its protection. Reborn with this new sense of confidence, the glowing-eyed horde charged ahead, vengeful and zealous.

As Telvern gazed forward into the godly onslaught, he felt a burning pressure suddenly rupture in his lungs. His torso jerked forward, a reaction which made him press his right hand to his mouth like a gate to hold back a bombardment of turbulent coughs. His steely brown eyes then examined his hand, finding then blood -- his own blood, and quite a lot of it.

Yet despite his escalating ailment, the genius calmly breathed the best his burdened lungs would allow, readjusting his glasses as though a motion to regain his composure. He handled a weapon in his now-bloodied right hand, a dagger which had remained idle and tame this entire time.
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02-Nov-2017 16:59:23

Jul

2020

Serene End

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With his time seemingly winding down, the weakly Telvern was prepared to fight. Yes, fight until he breathed no more, until his personal doomsday clock hailed the end...

That hulking, jarring behemoth wrecked havoc upon the Governanti population. It single-handedly brought Governanti to its knees, ushering in a change that would permanently alter the city like a horrific bodily disfigurement. Hundreds were ruthlessly slaughtered right in front of their brothers and sisters, thousands were butchered or violated in their own homes. And even as this very thought crossed his mind, that he was the one who orchestrated, perpetrated this massacre of countless, the ailing Telvern Thaddeus breathed without burden.

By Telvern's voice this army was led into this city, an army led on the ambition of Raphael Divus Barn, third son of Divus Nomos Barn. But everything Raphael fought for, lived for, died for, hung upon this great clash of fate. The light of kings and queens cascaded into the room like godrays, a kaleidoscope of rich, almost celestial colors turning the ill intent of their battle into a piece of artwork.

The Loyal Knights scattered across the room continued to bear witness to this battle to end everything, to begin everything. And steadily now, the scales having careened, tilting ever-so-favorably towards Balor. Raphael's sword Falcon rang against the Arbandor, the ancient, ancestral sword of the king. The collision shot a violent vibration down his blade, stressing its aging steel.

Raphael aggressively sought after Balor's life, coming at him with an unyielding series of strikes. In the midst of this volley, Raphael traded his standard grip for his reverse grip, trying to catch his enemy off-guard. But much to Raphael's frustration, Balor was a very capable fighter. He analyzed this change with swiftness, quickly adapting to accommodate it.
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02-Nov-2017 17:00:33

Jul

2020

Serene End

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Raphael angrily struck his blade down, but this attack was a feint. He quickly halted his attack, motioning his arm forward. He pushed his sword in a sturdy thrust, thirsting for Balor's life. But the king truly was a very potent, intelligent warrior, able to read this with beauty.

Given its high nature, Balor was able to push himself down low and step beneath it. He barged his opponent, ramming his adamas pauldron with vigor into Raphael's sternum. The impact blew Raphael off of his feet, feeling his head whip against the polished floor yet again.

Balor then pursued the downed rebel, plunging his blade down at Raphael. In defense against Balor's surely fatal thrust, Raphael quickly grabbed hold on his sword's strong flat and launched it upwards. He pushed his blade into Balor's incoming attack, its damaged steel scraping against the superior edge of the ornate adamas blade. His action changed the blade's direction, its tip now dug into the ground just beside his head.

The silver-haired rebel then swiftly shot his left foot forward, needing to bail himself out of this gravely disadvantageous position. His boot smashed straight into Balor's face, stunning the king and forcing his retreat. Having created enough space for him to breathe, Raphael wasted no time in capitalizing on his enemy's injury. His feet quickly became reacquainted with the ground, viciously aggressing towards Balor.

But Balor paid close attention to the position and action of his opponent, never dropping his guard for a moment, even in injury -- especially in injury. With an aching arm screaming and begging for rest, Raphael attacked Balor without abandon. The king managed to guard against the rebel's strike, beginning again in this raging onslaught. The fight grew clamorous with the thundering of blades, worldly steel and otherworldly adamas clapping against one another with earnest repetition.
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02-Nov-2017 17:01:49

Jul

2020

Serene End

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It grew fast and intense, this clash of theirs, echoing throughout the castle like the halls of a cathedral. The rebel and king's battle took them on a deadly tour across the entire throne room, having gone back and forth from one side to the other. The amount of motion and footwork could easily be mistaken for a violent form of dance, an exhausting art which forced sweat to drip from their brow.

But Raphael was not something as graceful or elegant as dancing, for his hateful nature could easily be detected in his form. His attacks an exacting for Balor's death, pushing his aggression to the point of absurdity. Yes, absurdity, something the former Balor would ridicule and taunt viciously...

Raphael's strikes the proof that quality bests quantity, for their number skyrocketed, yet provided nothing but irritation. His father's blade frustratedly grazed against the king's blade each and every time, killing only the air if it were flesh. Each empty swing only made Raphael try harder, a contemptible cycle which Balor watched time after time. The charcoal-haired king beheld it, this rebel who so desperately lusted for his life.

Raphael's rancor was a puppet master, possessing him heart and soul. His overly-aggressive display would have once been like water to Balor, satisfying his egotistical thirst, his need to feel superior towards his opposition. But upon this day, at this present time, it only made Balor grow angry with himself.

After an unsuccessful, tiresome campaign, Raphael exerted a wide strike right. But Balor had enough of playing the defensive, choosing to step back rather than merely block. He calmly leaped back, and Falcon simply sailed right past him. Raphael then came under assault, forced to coil up in a defensive position. Balor responded with his own offense, a methodical barrage, the kind that only an expert could commit. Raphael's face tightened grimly with each defense, forced to absorb the overwhelming shock each time.
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02-Nov-2017 17:03:27 - Last edited on 02-Nov-2017 17:03:48 by Serene End

Jul

2020

Serene End

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"Keep your sword up," Raphael kept telling himself, "keep your sword up."

The power generated from Balor's attacks rippled through Raphael's body like a rock through a pond. His elbows buckled, his muscles shook from soreness and exhaustion, his blade itself began to waver. He needed to escape this devastating predicament. For himself and for all of those fighting for him at this very moment...

In his desperation, Raphael quickly sneaked in a strike of his own. His sword flew fast, coming down upon his enemy as hard as he could. But Balor reacted against him, snatching his strike up before it began in earnest. The king reached his hands northernly, firmly securing control over Raphael's strike. Halting it in its place, he then whipped Raphael off to his right. As Raphael stumbled off-balanced, he felt the sting of a new injury crop up. Balor took a quick shot, slicing his blade across Raphael's left arm as he past.

The rebel's face was distorted by the pain burning in his main-arm, his teeth bare as he finally gained his footing. His eyes, these shimmering amethyst eyes, these windows into his vengeful soul, these eyes of his mother, declaration of his lineage... Like fangs dripping in the most potent venom, Raphael's eyes sunk into Balor. His stamina appeared limitless, with barely a droplet of sweat dripping from his face.

Yet Raphael panted excessively, laboriously, his trembling body soaked in his own blood and sweat. Indeed, his exerted condition was easily translatable by his body language alone. But Raphael did not stall, did not yield, even as his main-arm seared and ran red with his own blood.

Within the first half of a second, his legs burst into a full sprint. He roared with all of his wrath as he flew up to Balor, his sword ringing against the king's ancestral blade once more. The silver-haired rebel then motioned a horizontal slash, an attack which Balor blocked with the strong flat of his blade.
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02-Nov-2017 17:04:56

Jul

2020

Serene End

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With swiftness but not haste, Balor's left hand soundly latched onto Raphael's blade, pulling it beneath his right arm in the same motion. His next motion would be one just as graceful, stepping towards Raphael and thrusting his shoulder squarely into his chest. The king's brilliantly decorated pauldron pounded once again against Raphael's breastbone, a blow which forced Raphael away.

Having succumb to Balor's strength, Raphael staggered back, suddenly finding himself deprived of his father's most precious treasure. His hated enemy had disarmed him, a massive opportunity for him. Balor wasted not a moment, quickly casting aside Raphael's sword and pursuing him.

Under Balor's command, the Arbandor came after Raphael. A blade which struck fast and true, Raphael barely managing to dodge it. He stepped off to his right, his eyes beaming on his blade. His gaze revealed his intentions, and Balor was swift to react. As Raphael made a break for it, Balor's right leg swept him under. Raphael's world suddenly came tumbling down, watching helplessly as Balor cut his legs out from under him.

Raphael's side slammed harshly into the ground yet again, a hard landing meagerly softened by the royal blue carpet running down the center of the room. But the rebel had no time to gripe, for his hated enemy fell right on top of him. Balor fell down, asserting his knee into Raphael's sternum to hold him in place. His left hand fastened around the middle of his sword's blade, intent on plummeting it down upon Raphael's neck as if a guillotine.

But Raphael was swift to defend himself, as his legs were without restraint entirely. He chose his left leg to do the job, being that his left was his dominant side. It ferociously sprung up, the tip of his foot crashed into the back of his hated enemy's head. The blow was powerful, surprising, cracking violently against Balor's skull, whipping his head past the rest of his body. Balor was forced off of Raphael, tumbling to the ground.
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02-Nov-2017 17:06:11

Jul

2020

Serene End

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Raphael, as briskly as sound, pulled himself together. His legs ascending, intent on capitalizing on Balor's suffering. Raphael scrambled for his sword, darting at his hated enemy the moment he bore arms again. Taking his sword by both hands, he struck it forward with great ferocity. Yet despite his downed state, Balor managed to defend himself, catching Raphael's blunt, straightforward slash in the cross-guard of his ancient blade. The king was adamant, shocking and infuriating Raphael.

With Raphael's sword captured, Balor then returned to his feet. But Raphael still posed a threat, the king watching then as the rebel quickly dropped his right hand to his waist. Raphael's motion was quick, decisive, but Balor's was even greater. Unexpectedly, his arms vigorously lunged forward, pushing Raphael back.

Raphael back-peddled off-balanced, side-arm in hand. He was left exposed, at the mercy of his enemy. Balor, poised to deliver defeat unto his opponent, firmly took hold of the Arbandor as if it were the key to unlock his Utopia. He stepped towards Raphael with conviction and steadfastness, coming down upon him with a most fearsome, conclusive coup de grâce.

Raphael, still walking on his heels, watched with widened eyes as Balor sought his life. Frantic to protect himself, he desperately raised his sword up to block Balor's clincher. Once more, the two blades Falcon and Arbandor clashed, just as they have throughout the two years of strife between these brothers. From the aftermath of their father's assassination at the hands of the elder brother, to their battle amongst the burning buildings and banners of Lumbridge, they clashed over and over again as if preordained.

The two opposing forces created a most resonating sound, the crystal-like clink of adamas upon the ordinary ring of steel tearing through the atmosphere. But this fated collision was brutal, sending a shock most severe throughout Raphael's treasured blade, its steel vibrating catastrophically.
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02-Nov-2017 17:10:56

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