I’m ever so sorry…
“I’m sorry,” the man whispered. He knelt in the middle of the streets of Falador, blood all over his hands. The liquid pooled around him, staining the shining marble bricks red. The stink was overwhelming; it smelt like rust.
The Falador guard lay next to the man, tongue lolling out, and a massive rip in his chest. Blood flowed from his wound thick and fast, like some twisted scarlet waterfall. A dagger lay next to him, incriminating evidence of the man’s crimes.
The man was a rather plain adventurer; iron plate-body, plate-legs, leather boots and gloves. He had wavy brown hair, and grass-green eyes that twinkled in the sunlight. He had an innocent look plastered on his face; there was no aura of menace around him that usually surrounded a killer.
The young explorer had seen people pick-pocketing guards for money. Even if it wasn’t an honest living, it still paid off, by the looks of it. The adventurer was looking for a living, and this was the best way to make it. Besides, this was RuneScape. The worst you’d get if you pick-pocketed a guard would be a punch to the face and paralysis for a few seconds (or so he thought). How wrong he really was.
He tried pick-pocketing a guard, and got a small amount of coins in return. It was going pretty well, until the guard caught him in the act, and tried to attack him. Before the adventurer knew what he was doing, the guard lay on the floor, dead as a plank of rotting wood.
The young adventurer did*’t know what to do. He was drowning in his own guilt. All he wanted to do was make a bit of money, and now he was a murderer. The adventurer looked at his hands, and retched as the overwhelming stench of blood consumed him. What had he done?
Passing people stared down at him in pity as he sobbed over the dead remains of the guard. He stared at the pile of coins in his bag miserably. He scooped them up, and placed them next to the guard.
09-Apr-2010 13:52:56
- Last edited on
09-Apr-2010 13:56:52
by
Mainiac97