RuneScape Forum Archive | Fall From Grace

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2020

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His sword slashed across the back of the knight's legs, causing the knight to grunt in pain. Raphael had severed the ligaments in the back of his knees, causing the knight to fall to his knees. Raphael then grasped his hand around the knight's Great Helm, pulling it off. With one deep, rapid slice, Raphael ripped his sword across the Loyal Knight's throat.

The Loyal Knight then began to topple over, his blood gushing out of his silt throat. In a heavy thud, the knight hit the cobblestone. Once he could see her, Raphael's purple eyes kindly look down upon the little girl. She looked up at him, appearing grateful. "Th-thank you," she stuttered.

"Look," he said. "You've got to do what your mother told you, okay? You need to go, find someplace to hide."

The girl shook her head. "O-okay,"

Raphael then smiled, attempting to calm and reassure the little girl. "Don't worry about anything," he told her. "we'll stop them."

Told of this, the little girl ran off as fast as she could. As soon as she was away, a wind rushed towards Raphael's back, blowing right passed him. Someone now suddenly stood in front of him, his sapphire eyes glared down harshly upon the young leader. Raphael stumbled, unable to answer to what had approached him. The king of the gods, of the entire Governanti kingdom, stood now in front of Raphael within the blink of an eye.

Raphael appeared surprised, caught off guard by the king's speed. Balor's merciless, indiscriminate glance bearing down, crushing any who stood under its rays. The silver haired young man gripped his teeth, his expression reflected his furor. Raphael prepared himself for a massive battle with the enemy of his Resistance, getting comfortable and ready in his stance.
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13-Aug-2014 22:36:20

Jul

2020

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In a standard grip, Raphael swung his blade down towards the king. The emperor with the faintly glowing eyes pulled his adamas sword towards Raphael's strike, the Arbandor collided with Falcon. The two blades grinded against each other, a great struggle of power was waged between the two, causing the two blades to shake.

As the situation became intense between the two heads of the opposing forces, a Loyal Knight was in pursuit of the little girl, readying his blade for the kill. His callous stare digging into her back, he was catching up to her. He was prepared to kill her, and she knew he was right on her heels. The knight suddenly felt a shooting pain, smelling his own flesh burning away.

This was enough of a distraction to allow Marie to get away, causing the knight to lose sight of her. He growled in agony, a large, melting hole in the back of his armour revealing his exposed skin, from the lower back of his helmet to the middle of his back. He shuffled his head all over, looking for the source of the flame. It had to be a spellcaster, it had to be!

Up above on top of the gatehouse that surrounded the castle of Lumbridge, several soldiers hid. They were equipped in leather hide armour, implying that they were most likely archers. In the center left of the row of archers, one single outcast of the leather brigade. He was a young man clad in a dark gray cassock and pale skin: Daevarro.

The archer next to Daevarro, a lad with dark green hair, raised his right hand and poked up his right thumb. "Nice one," he complimented the dark-robed young man. The dark-haired archer then turned to a fellow sharpshooter right next to him, one that stood up and aimed directly for the knight that Daevarro cast magic at. "Mevlin, you got 'im?"
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13-Aug-2014 22:36:48

Jul

2020

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The ranger named Mevlin shook his head, focusing his aim. It was definitely ready to be unleash, smirking. "Yeah, definitely," the archer confidently responded. After a moment or two of preparing the shot, it was done. The arrow was cast out into the air, soaring through the atmosphere. Sensing that death drew near, the Loyal Knight began searching for its cause. Then, he suddenly knew... because it found him.

The arrow dug into the back of his head, going right through his burnt skin that Daevarro uncovered. The knight dropped to the floor on his knee, reaching his right hand up to the sight of the injury. His armour plated hand grasped the wound, being stained by his own blood. Mevlin knelt back down behind the wall after completing his kill, but he doesn't realize that his appearance was a reflection off of an enemy's eyes.

The dark-haired archer then turned to Daevarro. "All right," he said. "Daevarro, you think you can do that again?"

"Yes," the young man confirmed. "But only a few more times, I don't have very many runes left."

The dark-haired archer then poked his head out from behind the wall, looking for any others that might need assistance. His vision scrolled across the battlefield, getting a front-row view of the massive scope of the death and destruction all across the city. Bodies, both alive and dead, crowded the streets, clashing with swords swinging.

The atmosphere orange-yellow, dark yet bright, due to the fire. Through the sights and sounds of war, the archer's eyes spotted an important person in need of assistance: Raphael. The young leader appeared tangled with Balor, the true enemy of the Resistance. But the second he laid eyes upon the back of Balor, someone laid their eyes upon him.
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13-Aug-2014 22:37:20

Jul

2020

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Shinon, the famous archer forced to fight for the gods whom he despised, saw this man pop out from the top of the gatehouse. He whipped out his yew longbow, his black irises not coming off of his target for even a second. He noticed the fireball that rippled through the knight's armour, and then the arrow that punctured his flesh. And so, he waited, patient for his opportunity.

Latching his fingers on one of the many arrows in his quiver, the red-headed archer put the arrow to his bow's string, and pulled it as far back as he could. His face gripped with pain, his arm's injury still there to haunt him. He pulled his arrow back, much like his ire and hatred, swallowing it down. And like many of the things in his life, he let that arrow go.

It flew freely and without hindrance, gliding perfectly and gracefully. Flying like a shooting star across the air, the arrow jumped out from nowhere and hit the archer square in the eye, his left eye. The dark-haired archer toppled over onto his back, tightly clenching his face as he wailed in absolute pain.

Daevarro turned to the wounded archer. "Kael!" the dark-robed young man loudly called with worry.

"That damned archer knew we were up here," Mevlin stated. "He waited for us, expected us to attack, and we did! Grr... he played us like a damn fiddle!"

"It's all right," the young man told Mevlin. "I can—"

"—No," the archer then interrupted. "We've been spotted, Daevarro! This place is gonna be crawlin' with 'em any second now. You gotta go, go and help Master Raphael! He looks like he needs you!"

"But what about you all?" Daevarro asked. "Surely you realize that you can't fight them all on your own!"

"Listen to me," Mevlin's voice then became rather quiet. "You've got the Avae'vatu... She's the only way the humans are going to win this fight, do you hear me? This fight is a lost cause without her."

Daevarro appeared to pause, surprised by Mevlin's words. "Wait," Daevarro mumbled. "how do you—?"
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13-Aug-2014 22:38:41 - Last edited on 13-Aug-2014 22:39:46 by Serene End

Jul

2020

Serene End

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"—Look, there's no time," the archer stated, his voice stabbing through Daevarro's words once more. "As a member of higher rank, I'm ordering you to survive! GO!"

Understanding the harshness but sincerity of Mevlin's words, Daevarro shook his head. He began to quickly crawl over to the ladder to his right, being sure not to be seen nor heard. The young man clenched his pale-skinned hands around the wooden ladder, slowly making his way down it. From below them, Drakon gazed upwards. He led a hand of Loyal Knights, each ready for whatever may come.

The Orderer of the Loyal Knights hulled his body up into the air, soaring upwards. He crash landed on top of the gatehouse, finding their hiding place. Behind the knight, his fellow brothers landing right behind him. Their glowing eyes glared heavily upon the archers, rolling their fingers on their weapons with eagerness. Drakon pointed his right index finger towards the group. "Kill them all!" he ordered.

Bloodthristy as they were, the hungry knights charged onward. The archers ready themselves of the confrontation, pulling out their longswords and preparing to face death. Letting out a roar as they faced off with their demise, they rushed headstrong into the fray. Hearing the sounds of battle and death above him, Daevarro clenched his heart and closed his eyes, but realized that he trusted the command he was given.

Always wondered was Daevarro about this strange fate placed upon him, the mystery and cryptic meaning of this... "Avae'vatu," and whatever it means. What does it mean to have her presence? Regardless, he pushed those things aside and prepared himself to help Raphael, as he was instructed. Coming down from the tower-like structure which held the interior ladder, Daevarro hid behind the gatehouse and cast his eyes out from the gates.
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13-Aug-2014 22:40:32

Jul

2020

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He was able to see the war that was waged all throughout the city, and the person he was commanded to help. Raphael's eyes glared with the sharpness of a dagger upon Balor, a man who did not appear at all fazed by it. "Stop killing the villagers," Raphael angrily demanded. "They've done nothing to you, they don't deserve to die because of our actions!"

"Traitors deserve no mercy,"

"Why drag children in it, then!?" Raphael continued. "They had no say in anything, from their parents to where they were born!"

"The same can be asked to the humans," the king riposted. "Lucia told you, didn't she? About the day when she was almost assassinated by the humans?"

"She did," Raphael answered.

"Then I offer you what they offered me," he returned. ""You can blame your fate for being born to them.""

"Ridiculous," he exclaimed. "You're just looking for an excuse to kill as many people as you can!"

"Everyone looks for an excuse to kill, Raphael," the king believed. "That's what's known as war! "

Raphael shook his head. "No, you're wrong," he adamantly denied. "War is to fight for change; to speak in a matter where someone will listen, to stop tyrannical madmen like you."

"Ha," Balor then let out a gasp of laughter. "Is that what you tell yourself to justify your battles, your wars? Oh, surely you think us as the "tyrannical madmen," as the culmination of all iniquity. You fight with such lies, such absurd palliation!"

"Look at the death you bring to this city!" shouted back Raphael. "Two wrongs don't make a right! When I look and think of the treatment you're allowing to be brought upon the humans, all I think is evil!"

"Would you not do the same to us if the situations were reversed?" Balor's voice then asserted a question, giving Raphael a earnest look. They both then step back away from each other, readying their blades once more. The two blades clash, the men going for an attack that would just be blocked of the other's sword.
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13-Aug-2014 22:41:52

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2020

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Raphael goes for a thrust, causing Balor to bring his blade forward to guard. Balor's sword pushed down upon Raphael's lunge, causing it to go to the left and outside of Balor. To riposte to this, Balor intended to go in for an attack, closing his sword in for an attack. Raphael stepped in closer, attempting to redirect Balor's blade off to his right.

Raphael successfully stepped off to Balor's right, wrapping both of his hands around Falcon. He lunged the blade forward, targeting his opponent. The blade found its mark, hitting Balor's arm. But the sword itself barely went through Balor's armour, the adamas doing very well in defending and protecting its wearer.

Only the very tip of the blade managed to bypass Balor's crystal-like skin, causing a superficial wound. The silver-haired young man then pulled his blade out quickly, hopping backwards as soon as he could. He flipped his blade, holding it now in a reverse grip. The king then turned to face the little rascal, readying himself once more.

Raphael bolted forward, dashing towards Balor once more as fast as he could. He punched his blade at his enemy, aiming for Balor's chest. Balor pulled his blade up in front of him, its tip pointing down towards the ground and its pommel pointing up towards the blackened yet brightened sky. Their swords once more faced each other, Falcon's strong edge held by Arbandor's strong flat.

Its strength plus the strength of its user made Arbandor virtually impassable. The two blades shook, attempting so desperately to pass. In the center of a large battle, surrounded by the glints of blades and the spilling of blood from both sides, the two stood. "Humor me, Raphael," then spoke the king. "What if you are victorious in your ambitions and our kingdom is lost? What will you do when your human government discriminates against us, when your human citizens look at us like we're the inferior ones?"
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13-Aug-2014 22:42:32

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2020

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"They won't," the young leader firmly believed. "They will treat you equally. If they don't... I'll educate them, teach them right from wrong!"

Raphael stepped off, and Balor followed with his sword swinging to his left. Raphael guarded well against it, brushing the attack off with the weak flat of his blade. Balor then threw out a flurry of strikes, aiming for limbs. Raphael was quick to dodge or block each and every attack that came his way, the last of Balor's assault hammered downwards.

The king swung his blade downwards, causing the young leader to step off to his right to dodge it. Gripping his blade with both of his hands, Raphael's arms ready themselves for an attack as his eyes saw the opportunity to strike. Predicting that this would occur, Balor's left hand was launched. The back of Balor's adamas-clad hand slammed against Raphael's left cheek, bringing a great deal of pain.

A thunderous blow radiated throughout Raphael's body, causing saliva to spew out from his mouth. He staggered backwards after the attack, clenching onto his cheek that was ravaged with intense agony. The king of the gods stared up into the darkened sky, watching as embers spiral and trickle in reverse.

As though the souls of the lost fluttered away from this world, trying to escape, the embers of the heat poured almost endlessly into the sky. The bright yet dark world, the scene of a terrible day in history as the sounds of war clamor in the background. Balor relished in all of its glory and its horror, taking it in as much as he could, drawing in the smell of burning death into his lungs.

""Teach them right from wrong,"" the king quoted the words just spoken. "You won't be able to teach them much if they aren't willing to listen, and what then? How are you going to get them to stop if they do wrong, like discriminating against a particular race?"
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13-Aug-2014 22:43:17

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2020

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Balor smirked as his brilliant, dazzling blue gaze fixated upon the silver haired young man. He shook his head. "You're no savior," declared Balor, continuing his verbal attack. "No matter how noble and admirable your cause may be, honeyed words can only go so deep. Sure, they may prod and nudge a few enough to make them change, but then there are some with a very thick hide. Such people are cancerous, and can only be removed by less acceptable means. Such as the case of what I've been doing: I'm ridding this world of this blight, this Resistance."

Daevarro, hiding behind the gatehouse, had been peeking around the corner. He peered off and watched the battle unfold all in front of him, and just barely. The Lumbridge Resistance was doing its best and help fight off the Governanti Army, and they've had some success, but the tide was turning against their favor.

As the young man's ears caught all of the sounds of this war, watching as the life of men vanished before his eyes, he knew now was the time to attempt with all of his might to change the focus of this battle. Turning around and hiding behind the wall, the dark-robed young man closed his eyes. He began to concentrate deeply, blocking out all sound and visuals that would tempt him away.

In his mind, he imagined what he had just seen, that place he looked at. The war between two shades of fortitude, the toll and loss left upon the ground, the blood and entrails that emitted from that loss, and the fire that engulfed all that the humans spent so many hours repairing and rebuilding.

It became so quiet to Daevarro, finding a stride, surfing a wave of solitude and serenity. Once he hit this rhythm, he was ready to start making a difference in this fight. Glowing eyes and normal eyes took notice, their vision so suddenly becoming altered. A thick, heavy shroud began to take hold of this place, consuming the entire battlefield.
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13-Aug-2014 22:44:02

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2020

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Its appearance was almost like a massive blanket of dark fog, draping over the entire warzone. Men from both sides couldn't understand what exactly had begun to unfold all around them, becoming even more defensive. Not even the superior vision of the gods could penetrate this mist, not even a single lunge could get through. They could barely see passed what was in front of them, everyone shuffled their heads to figure out what was happening.

But Daevarro knew, he knew perfectly well, since he was the one to create it. Knowing the location of every single knight in black armour and every single higher up that stood beside and commanded those knights, Daevarro readied himself for the next touch he planned to put on this fight. His mind visualized a soldier on his side, the attire of a man of Lumbridge.

Strong, steel plated armour that protected their bodies, but it lacked the pauldrons and overall bulk, daunting appearance of a knight truly clad in the stuff. Some wore spangenhelms, some wore nothing. They battled with kiteshields made of wood, embodying a purple backdrop with a head of a dragon of black in the center.

Daevarro remembered it very clearly, every single detail, no matter how minor. Focusing intensely on that image, black mist began to appear in front of him in mass production. A dozen balls of mist, each slowly grew into a humanoid figure, began finding themselves with a torso, then a head. Just behind the formation of the helm, arms, legs, fingers, and toes were found.

The shape of their armour and weapons came to be on them, looking like a misty silhouette of a Lumbridge soldier. Once their warriorlike shape appeared chiseled out, they began to take on color. The final product was made, several replica soldiers stood abreast in front of Daevarro. As the young man heard the rupture of turbulence in the background, he was ready to make his mark.
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13-Aug-2014 22:44:59

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