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RS Story Contest - Survivor 2

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Borna Coric

Borna Coric

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-Conversations Between Heaven and Hell-


The room was purposefully left bland. Everything came in white whenever possible; what little light trespassed the boundaries of the open window was overshadowed. The air was thick with a crisp mint purity. Then the woman spoke.

“What is this lunacy? Where am I?”

Her hair, longer than most women’s, seemed to billow outward as she spoke, akin to the inhalation and exhalation of an exhausted animal.

“All shall be revealed.” The man, who sat across the table from her, grinned. She couldn’t help but compare him to a merchant. “Now, stare into the pool. Tell me what you see.*

The woman flared again, grabbing the hand of a man who set next to her and pulling it upward. As they made their way toward the door, the merchant-like man chuckled slightly and snapped his fingers; the couple found themselves immediately back on the ivory lounge.

*I said,” he paused slightly as his tone hardened, “to look into the pool.”

He placed a bowl on the coffee table that separated them, filling the air with the sound of marble scraping against oak as he pushed it toward them. The purple liquid pulsated as it swished around. It glowed phosphorescently.

31-Oct-2011 03:29:20 - Last edited on 31-Oct-2011 03:29:42 by Borna Coric

Borna Coric

Borna Coric

Posts: 3,785 Adamant Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
The slightly older man leaned over to get a better look at the object, and to his surprise, a familiar image enveloped his sight.

She was standing on a hill, her golden hair flickering in and out of obscured light as a heavy breeze tossed each strand unnaturally about her shoulders. Her hand curled around her dark staff calmly, her fingers dancing clumsily across the purple metal as if possessed by the twisted color. She was laughing, and the atmosphere seemed to burn with every electric breath that filled her chest with distorted energy.

He approached her, dry grass cracking beneath his feet. Charred dust stirred as he walked, enveloping him in fleeting black smoke. The sun was hidden beneath shadowy clouds, and its dim rays barely illuminated the earth below. Jagged rocks littered the slope he climbed, piercing the soft leather of his boots to scrape the skin beneath. She was still smiling when he reached her, her eyes alight with rabid pleasure.

Standing next to her, he looked out towards the fields before him, faint corpses adorned in black and red together with those in blue. The wind’s howl screeched through the plain, twisting high screams of the wounded through the charred air. Her laughter mingled with the wails, the writhing agony engorged by her per(c)verted mirth.

“Such a rush,” she said. “Such… such beauty.”

He did not reply, his gaze fixed on the fields.

“I suppose that’s a bit unfortunate, though.”

He glanced back at her, her empty pity grating horribly against his ears despite the swirling melody of her voice. Silently, he caressed her face with the back of his fingers, a light sorrow swelling behind his pupils. He turned away and left her there, a cold tear escaping his eyes and cutting delicately across his cheek.

31-Oct-2011 03:29:56

Borna Coric

Borna Coric

Posts: 3,785 Adamant Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
The merchant-man giggled excitedly as the image eclipsed, the air a renewed mint. The older man, who was still situated on the lounge next to the women, exhaled a sharp breath, collapsing back into a relaxed position. His companion did*’t bother turn her head, merely glancing at him sidelong and folding her arms.

“Your turn, my dear.”

The woman found herself unable to avert her gaze, and she too allowed the liquid in the bowl to come to life.

A blistered wilderness, charcoal black claiming all that is in sight. Fierce flames engulfed several skeletons that littered the ground, extending their reach to the similarly mangled trunks of long-dead trees. In the middle of it all, fending off an entire army of skeletons, was the woman.

She raised her arms above her head again, conjuring a large red cloud that swallowed her. Just as the skeletons were within slashing distance, she allowed the swarm to expand, flowing outward and scorching the advancing troops. She permitted her tensed state to collapse.

“Wow, thanks for that. I thought Zemouregal would win for sure. You are the true Defender of Varrock.” The warrior, clad in slightly worn adamant armour, attempted to bow to her before the metal coating restricted his movement to the point of immobilisation. Before he could resume his regular position, he was sent flying backward by an invisible force.

“I hate,” the woman muttered, her hands glowing a faint red beside her, “adventurers.”

The bowl boils dry, leaving only the smooth interior surface of the marble. As the woman relaxes herself, the man opposite her places a large book on the table entitled ‘Counselling’.

“So,” the merchant-man says, turning to a sub-section labelled ‘Marriage’. “What is it you two want to talk about? You go first, Dionysius. Zenevivia, you can speak next.”

31-Oct-2011 03:30:06

Borna Coric

Borna Coric

Posts: 3,785 Adamant Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
There it is. The first post was edited because I stupidly made a double post.

The lore we chose to base it on was the relationship of Dionysius and Zenevivia, and the background of the Love Story quest. It is a side-story, or a continuation, that highlights their perspective on the world as reflected through the lore.

31-Oct-2011 03:32:16

Venmi

Venmi

Posts: 14,744 Opal Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
If Mors posts about a change before the deadline that he wants to make on this thread, then go right ahead and edit it. The rules are a little lenient for this round because of how different it is. That and its complexity. Thanks for the entry. :)

~Mitch

31-Oct-2011 04:57:22

Chuk

Chuk

Posts: 14,177 Opal Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
He glanced down at the mighty staff, eyebrows conforming into lust. He reached out to grab it, but instead froze. The mahjarrat looked up at Dhalak, question forming on his lips.

“And you’re positive that Zaros won’t be able to detect the staff? “

“He cannot kill what he cannot see. Power blinded him long ago,” Dhalak answered.

With that, the mahjarrat Zamorak snatched the Staff of Armadyl from Dhalak. Zamorak’s long, black hair unfurled around his shoulders, his beady red eyes glowing with intensity.

“Oh this glorious day!” Zamorak screamed, knowing what the combined power of the Stone of Jas and the Staff of Armadyl could do.

Dhalak did*’t look so pleased. His expression fretted as he dared ask a question. “My lord, you will try to kill Zaros with that, correct?”

Zamorak smiled as the devil within once again surfaced. “Try? No. Succeed? Yes. Zaros shall fall. Now, you are dismissed, Dhalak. Run while you still can.”

And with that, Dhalak scurried off into the nothingness.
---

Gazing across his followers gathered around the hill, Zamorak absently caressed the haft of Armadyl’s staff with one hand while holding it tight in the other. It shivered at his touch, humming with arcane power, whispering to his heart and demanding to be used. Zamorak smiled, and then raising the staff above his head with both hands, cried out to his followers.

“Hear me, my fellow rebels, ye who hunger for the power of the Empty God. Listen and let your dreams run wild. Today, we cast down his fallen might and cast him from this plane. With this weapon, we are unbeatable. I am unbeatable! Hear me, and obey! To war and victory!”

31-Oct-2011 22:22:54

Chuk

Chuk

Posts: 14,177 Opal Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
He strode from the hill, staff held high and glinting in an amber sunset. His highest generals were close behind: Thammaron, the mighty demon and Drakan, mightiest of the vampyres; two of Zamorak’s kin, the Majharrat Hazeel and Zemourgal; and last, counting himself equal to these potent beings, the human Viggora. Behind them came the horde, humans and lesser demons -- even imps -- all pressed into service for their Lord Zamorak, set to distract the armies of Zaros that their master might destroy Gielinor’s most powerful being.

They had only a short march, and before the last reds on the horizon faded to purple, the host stood before the doors of Ghorrock. Zamorak and his lieutenants passed in, leaving their army to bar the gates.

Zamorak strode through the doors of the fortress, watching the scene unfold all around him. His army of demons, vampyres, and the occasional mahjarrat. He crossed his arms in pure content, letting his power seethe through the room, boosting the morale of his army. Zamorak turned his head to see Hazeel ruthlessly shredding apart multiple icefiends, making a path for some of the other Zamorakian followers. Zamorak smiled devilishly, following in Hazeel’s wake. The throne room was just ahead, and Zaros’ forces had been overwhelmed. With the Staff of Armadyl in one hand and the Stone of Jas in the other, Zamorak burst open the throne room doors.

Zaros sat calmly on his throne in the center of the room, tapping his fingers idly on the richly colored armrest.

“Prepare to die, Zaros,” Zamorak spat.

“No *M’lord’? Tsk tsk. You always were a foolhardy one, Zamorak, but this has gone a bit too far. Do you really think you can dethrone me?” Zaros replied. Zamorak fumbled for a response.

“Do you?” Zaros insisted, this time in a more aggressive tone.

“Yes. I do. You’ve always underestimated me, Zaros.”

“Have I now?*

*Yes!” Zamorak hissed, *now come down here and fight me!”

31-Oct-2011 22:23:26

Chuk

Chuk

Posts: 14,177 Opal Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
Zaros made no move towards the all too eager Zamorak. Instead, he sat rather contently on his throne.

“Well? What are you waiting for?!” Zamorak screeched, clenching his fists around the powerful items he possessed. In turn, Zaros sighed, slowly beginning to clamber down from his high throne.

“You’re a bit too eager to die, Zamorak.”

“You arrogant misshapen fool!” Zamorak screamed. Zaros pulled together his great weapons, thrusting a longsword over his shoulder. He looked down upon the substantially shorter Zamorak, shaking his head.

“To have fallen to far and to have learned nothing -- that is your failing, Zamorak.”
---

Zaros leaped, flying across the intervening space in an eye blink. A great sword, alive with black fire was suddenly in his hands above his head. He slashed down, and Zamorak hardly had time to dive aside. The mahjarrat struck the icy floor hard, breath bursting from his lungs, and the Stone of Jas skittered out of his hand and across the room. Before he could rise, Zaros’s blade sliced again, and Zamorak barely caught it on the staff. Zaros laughed, raised the blade, and struck again.

Zamorak rolled aside, sliding smoothly to his feet. A blizzard blasted from Armadyl’s staff, swirling around Zaros, biting and numbing. Zaros merely waves his hand and the magic vanished. Before he could raise his sword again, Zamorak was on him, stabbing and hacking. The Empty Lord parried easily, turning aside each blow, but Zamorak did not relent. His face was a mask of furious desperation, lips peeled in a snarl. Zaros only smiled.

Eventually the blows slowed, then ceased. The balance shifted, and Zamorak fell back in retreat, dancing around the room and hardly dodging Zaros’s strikes. He managed to block one, a particularly furious stroke that knocked him off balance, and he slipped on the icy floor. He cried out as Zaros’s smirk widened into a victorious grin, but luck was with Zamorak, and the Empty Lord’s glee was short lived.

31-Oct-2011 22:24:34

Chuk

Chuk

Posts: 14,177 Opal Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
Unable to control his momentum, Zamorak slid straight towards his foe and knocked the god’s legs from beneath him. Zaros fell hard on his face, and Zamorak latched onto his foe’s arm and managed to heave himself to his feet.

He raised the Staff of Armadyl, and before Zaros could gain traction on the treacherous floor, Zamorak stabbed downwards, driving the divine weapon through Zaros’s torso and into the ice below. Zaros screamed and Zamorak cheered, but his joy died in his throat when Zaros rose to his knees and then to his feet. The god was no longer smiling and raging hate roared behind his eyes.

Not even bothering with his weapon, the god swatted the mahjarrat across the face, and Zamorak flew across the room like a doll. He crashed against one wall, sending splintering cracks spidering away, and slumped to the floor, dazed. Zaros crossed the room leisurely, not bothering to remove the staff from his back. One of his monstrous hands wrapped around Zamorak’s throat, lifting him so his feet dangled a pace above the ground.

Zamorak struggled feebly, but Zaros ignored him and grabbed Zamorak’s face in his free hand. Slowly he began to twist, waiting for the snap of a broken neck. Zamorak’s struggles intensified until he was thrashing wildly, kicking and flailing with the strength of the mahjarrat -- just enough to steal Zaros’s balance, and still clutching his enemy, the god fell backward.

The staff in his back stabbed into the ice, anchored, and Zaros slid down its haft, pulling Zamorak with him. When the point touched Zamorak’s heart, the combatants screamed, the mahjarrat in painful ecstasy and the god in agonizing horror.

When the echoing cries died away, there was only one being left in the room: the mahjarrat Zamorak, victorious at last, leaving the Empty Lord to the eternal void.

31-Oct-2011 22:24:43

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