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... A chill clawed at Lachtopher's youthful skin. As it's relentless assault permeated the fleshy membrane of his lungs, Lachtopher couldn't help but release a gasp; a prelude of what was to come. A white mist began it's descent on the village, carried on the back of the cold as all vision was obscured.

A Joyous laugh sounded out, at first as though emanating from right behind him, and then slowly fading, as if carried across a great distance. As the voice spoke, it did so callously, 'My task is complete, my master will be most pleased'.

Lachtopher fell to his knees, clutching at his chest, fighting for every breath and unaware of what was happening. Where was his father Roddeck? Or his sister Fayeth? Now more than ever he craved their comfort. Before taking his final, laboured breath, Lachtopher laid down to die.

'Not yet, child', reconciled a soothing voice. A rough, leathery hand rested on his head, a hand that told a thousand stories. Paternally, the voice whispered 'it is as a dream, nothing more, nothing less. For Gielinor has plans for you'.

'Father?' Lachtopher stuttered...

...'Lachtopher!' Called out an angry voice, shocking him out of his slumber. 'I have to get to work, I don't have time for this. I've placed the Coconuts in the larder unit, make sure you take three of them to Seth, he's promised us the milk from his finest cow, four chickens and two sacks of potatoes for them'. The slamming of a door was evidence enough that Lactopher's sister had angrily left the building.

'Fayeth' he groaned as he pulled the thin blanket from off of his body.

Resting his head heavily into his hands, Lachtopher exhaled, disillusioned. Raking his fingers over his face somewhat painfully, he pulled himself together and stood up, barefoot. The cold, solid Yew flooring creaked as he made his way over to the door, opening it onto the landing as he readied himself for the descent into what was the living room.

The smell of freshly made nettle tea lightly scented the air in what was confirmation that Lachtopher's father, Roddeck, was home. 'Your sister's not happy with you sleeping in past noon' Roddeck disapproved as he took a sip from his mug. Roddeck's voice was aged, yet still carried a rough ruggedness to it, symbolic of years of adventure.

'I got the day off from the General Store' dismissed Lachtopher as he eyed his father from the foot of the stairs. His father was a stately man, often seen smoking the finest tobacco from within the finest of pipes. Described by most who met him as 'a helpful soul who loved to dispense advice'. Occupying the only chair at the table in the far corner of the room, Roddeck was dressed in fine blue pantaloons, accompanied by a two tone jacket, navy blue and burgandy. His distinguished grey hair hinted at the need for the walking stick propped against the table, next to him.

'Well', Roddeck replied, as he continued almost sarcastically, 'if you hadn't heard your sister, we're running low on food and Fayeth recently had payment from a passing adventurer to help to cultivate his Magic Tree, we've arranged with Seth for some fresh supplies'. Roddeck nodded to the second mug of Nettle Tea on the table, indicative of an offering to his son.

Gratefully, Lachtopher obliged. Clasping the warm cup between both hands and pausing momentarily only to take in the homely smell before consuming the drink in seconds. 'I'll see to it father, right after I've cleaned myself up, I had a rough night' he said respectfully.

Placing his hands onto his elderly knees, Roddeck pushed himself to his feet almost youthfully, he may have been old, but he was still spry. 'Has that Leprechaun that Fayeth works with been supplying you with that Asgarnian Ale again?' Probed Roddeck as he eyed his son over before making his way to the bookcase adjacent to the table on the other side of the door. 'You know you told me that was going to stop' continued Roddeck with his interrogation.

'No father, I just', Lachtopher paused, thinking of what to say and perhaps moreover how to say it before dismissing his own concerns outright and finishing, 'I was up late thinking about the beach party over in the crater'.

'Ahh' smiled his father, pulling a book entitled 'The Glory of General Graardor' from the shelves of the bookcase as he grinned 'I didn't realise you were interested in that beach party that the Duke was hosting, perhaps a pretty young lass has caught your fancy?'

Doing his best to divert the course of conversation from his own personal life, Lachtopher hurriedly changed the topic 'you're still reading that book?' he said with a nod at the text in his father's hands.

'Well, we do live next to a small colony of Green Skins and I figure a bit of insight into their culture could help us get along amicably' Roddeck replied nonchalantly.

'That's what the guards are for father, that's why Duke Horacio has better equipped them, to protect the village' came Lachtopher's response, before taking from the bottom shelf of the bookcase, some worn leather boots and slipping them on. 'Anyway, I'll be back shortly, I'm going to clean myself up and then I'll take care of my errands' assured Lachtopher as he left the house via the southern door which backed onto the cusp of the river.

Immediately after leaving the house, the rays of sun that filtered their way through the rustling leaves of a Willow Tree, kissed at his skin, warming him to the bone. Turning his attention to the small

verge that resided next to his home, Lachtopher edged down, taking care not to slip. 'Right where I left you' he smiled as he picked up a bucket and began to gently fill it with water, taking his time. He and his sister had hollowed out some of the muddy ground on the verge of the river and constructed rather crude mounts upon which sat their respective washing paraphernalia.

Resting the now full bucket, Lachtopher cupped his hands together and, dipping them into the bucket, began to wash himself down, starting with his face. 'Why am I still having these dreams?' he pondered to himself, 'I've been to see the most prestigious Magi in the whole of Misthalin; Aubury, Borann and Isidor, why can none of them help me?' Lachtopher continued wondering. He always enjoyed a wash in the noon; when the sun was at it's strongest, beating down on his skin, drying him that much faster.

'All that they can tell me is that Saradomin works in mysterious and wonderous ways'. Cutting a frustrated figure as he finished bathing, Lachtopher stopped to observe the Goblins across the river getting up to their usual mischief. Scaring the cows and stealing the occasional chicken. Before the whole H.A.M incident they had been far more active in their forays into Human territory; now however, they seemed cautious of Humans. 'Good riddance' thought Lachtopher, as he placed his bucket back into its mount.

Glancing back at the heavily armoured guards on the bridge who now were warning the Green Skins which had wandered dangerously close, Lachtopher caught his own reflection in the deep blue mirror of the river.

The bags under his passionate brown eyes had only recently crept their way onto his complexion. An ill-fated side effect of his reoccuring dreams he thought. His strong jaw line complimented his high set cheek bones. Both his chin and the top of his head were clean shaven.

Throwing his brown trousers and red shirt back on, Lachtopher returned home to complete his

errands. His father was his role model, and Lachtopher had the utmost respect for him as a result, he was an honest man, kind-hearted and knowledgeable. Roddeck's children could approach him about any topic and speak plainly, therefore it came as no surprise that his avoidance of any subject relating to Lachtopher's mother, was most out of character.

He and his sister had given up asking years ago. It was the only topic to ever bring their father to a raised voice. As Lachtopher made his way up the cobble stone path and opened the door to their abode, three coconuts had been left for him on the table, saving him the trouble of making his way down into the cellar. Accompanied by a little note, Lachtopher took the time to read it:

You took a little longer than expected, I've had to leave on a convoy to Taverly; the druids there think they might just have cracked the conundrum surrounding our failed crops. I'm sure I don't need to tell you how important this is to the family, we can finally stop relying on Seth and become self-sufficient again. I've left the coconuts out for you, I'll be back within the next few days. Give your sister a break, it's not been easy on anyone lately,

Best wishes, father.

Setting the neatly written, crisp note back down onto the table, Lachtopher scratched his head with his free left hand. 'Father sure has been visiting Taverly a lot lately' he thought to himself. 'No rest for the wicked' he sighed as he once again left the house to collect the food from Seth.

The journey to Seth's farm wasn't a long one, it could be done in under the hour. He lived between Lumbridge and Varrock, the largest city in Misthalin. That didn't mean that it wasn't problematic, however. The Goblins heckled most unarmed civilians to traverse past the river and there weren't enough guardsmen to patrol the highway. Still, Fayeth earned more than him, and as much as they argued, he was protective of his sister. Reluctantly he

took a deep breath, prepared himself mentally for the journey, and set off. The sun was at its highest point in the sky, signalling to Lachtopher that it was still early noon. This significantly lightened his emotional burden; Goblins, though troublesome, tended to leave their more mischievous endeavours until the twilight hours.

Several hours had passed when Lachtopher finally reached Seth's farm; or what was left of it. Trepidation flooded every fiber of his being as he stood, frozen to the spot. What should have been a characteristically traditional building with thatched roof, masonry stone and walnut window frames was now little more than a testament to barbarism.

The putrid smell of animal droppings that would otherwise normally permeate the air had been infiltrated by a thick, invasive cloud of smoke. Specks of dust filled with the red hue of heat fell solemnly to the ground as from behind the veil of smog, kingly flames penetrated. Strewn around the farm yard were Chickens whose lives had recently been taken. The enclosure to the Cows had been left open as calves lay silently on the ground, motionless.

From within the deep recesses of Lachtopher's mind came one resounding question, 'who could do this?' he pondered, before a more accusatory voice snarled back, 'Goblins!'. Momentarily, a great dichotomy raged from within his soul. Caught between doing what was right, and what was safe, Lachtopher dropped the coconuts and, against his better judgement, stepped into the relentless smoke in search of Seth.

But he had only taken several steps before the sound of heavy chain armour clanging against equally weighted greaves could be heard approaching closer. Fueled by relief, on the assumption that such a noise had been created by guardsmen, Lachtopher ran out to call for help.

Suddenly, a seathing pain crippled Lachtopher. Caught for breath, he looked down. A thick red liquid; his own blood, trickled down. A blade had pierced his chest.

A chill clawed at Lachtopher's youthful skin. As the blade's relentless assault permeated the fleshy membrane of his lungs, Lachtopher couldn't help but release a gasp; a prelude of what was to come. A white mist began it's descent on the village, carried on the back of the cold as all vision was obscured.

A Joyous laugh sounded out, at first as though emanating from right behind him, and then slowly fading, as if carried across a great distance. As the voice spoke, it did so callously, 'My task is complete, my master will be most pleased'.

Lachtopher fell to his knees, clutching at his chest, fighting for every breath and unaware of what was happening. Where was his father Roddeck? Or his sister Fayeth? Now more than ever he craved their comfort. Before taking his final, laboured breath, Lachtopher laid down to die.

'Not yet, child', reconciled a soothing voice. A rough, leathery hand rested on his head, a hand that told a thousand stories. Paternally, the voice whispered 'it is as a dream, nothing more, nothing less. For Gielinor has plans for you'.

'Father?' Lachtopher stuttered, as he lost consciousness...

But the figure that now cradled Lachtopher's limp, dying body, was not his father, at least not genetically. As quickly as the princely figure rose, with Lachtopher in his arms, so too did he disappear.

'Do you have it?' The unknown figure questioned.

'I do my lord, I cannot thank you enough' Roddeck retorted respectuflly.

'Hurry now, you don't have time, I am needed elsewhere' said the figure brazenly. Nodding his head compliantly, Roddeck removed a vial of liquid which seemed to glisten with all the colours of the rainbow and began to empty the contents into his son's mouth.

Sweating profusely, Roddeck looked to the other being and, cautiously, he asked, 'what now, Lord Saradomin?'.

The figure, that had now been revealed as being the blue skinned, silver haired Deity named Saradomin held one hand above Lachtopher, and

another over the forehead of Roddeck, and as he did so, he spoke, commandingly 'In life is death; in death is life; remove all memories of this families strife'.

Roddeck, who had bowed his head submissively, looked up confused, concerned. But before he could open his mouth to speak, Saradomin had begun his final incantation.

'Let all that has happened within this days time; be as it was upon the prelude to the crime' as he finished speaking, a bright white light transitioned from his outstretched arms, through his hands and into each the body of Lachtopher and Roddeck. Objects began to move themselves around the very room, as Saradomin stood pre-eminently, watching as the sun cascaded back on itself.

With a smug smile, Saradomin vanished into the aether, leaving Roddeck stood over his seemingly unharmed son, unaware of anything that had happened prior to this singular moment. With a scratch of his head, Roddeck observed Lachtopher, unsure as to why he was even there.

Shrugging his shoulders, Roddeck assumed that he had ascended the staircase to wake his son, as there was certainly plenty of chores that needed doing that day. However he couldn't shake the feeling that he had nearly lost him. Sitting by the bed for a brief moment, appreciating Lachtopher, Roddeck descended the stairs once more, and decided to make himself a cup of Nettle Tea, and one for his son before he awoke.

As he pottered around the living room gathering the necessary supplies to make the tea, that uneasy feeling in his gut slowly faded into obscurity, but no sooner had it left than his daughter, Fayeth had emerged, and, looking around the room, angrily concluded that Lachtopher was not yet awake.

With her short, cropped brown hair and striking brown eyes, Fayeth's smooth, pretty face suddenly crumpled, revealing her frustration. 'He's not up yet, father?' she asked sarcastically as she crossed her arms and tapped her fingers in a mannerism remeniscent of impatience.

'Fayeth, before you head off to work again, I need to tell you that I've been summoned to Taverly to meet with the druids once more' Roddeck informed his daughter. Curiously, she raised her eyebrow, allowing her father to elaborate, 'It's about the potion that Saradomin has asked me to retrieve. He believes that it can help to counteract the negative implications of the Wand of Resurrection, though as of yet he hasn't had a chance to test this theory'.

Unfolding her arms as the conversation unraveled, Fayeth probed further, merely out of concern for her father, 'why does Saradomin need you to do this though father, surely he can speak to them himself' she deduced. Fayeth and Lachtopher had already lost their mother at an early age, they didn't want to lose their father too.

'I've told you dear, the druids honor Guthix, they will not deal with another God, least of all the God who wields the Wand of Resurrection, I've been entrusted with this task, and Saradomin has given me his promise that should I succeed, he will complete for me one favour, you know what this could mean' Roddeck finished.

As Roddeck made eye contact with his daughter, he looked upon her momentarily with the eyes of paternal love, before taking a serious tone of voice and explaining, 'you cannot tell your brother anything about this undertaking, there is no guarantee that what I have asked of Saradomin can truly be accomplished, and it would break his heart were it to fail'.

'I know father, it's just an awful lot for me to deal with alone, don't you think that I want mother back as much as anyone?' Fayeth barked, teetering on disrespectfully.

'Of course Fayeth, but you're stronger than Lachtopher, he is' Roddeck paused, searching for the words, 'he doesn't have the same mental fortitude that you do, you're more like your mother than you know' he finished as he began to pour the Nettle Tea into two mugs.

'Would you like one?' Roddeck offered Fayeth, who swiftly

declined, adding 'I really have to get back to work father, I'll do as you have asked, just promise me that you'll come home?'.

As her father nodded his head with a gentle smile, Fayeth began her verbal bombardment in an effort to wake her brother.

'Lachtopher!' Called out an angry voice, shocking Lachtopher out of his slumber. 'I have to get to work, I don't have time for this. I've placed the Coconuts in the larder unit, make sure you take three of them to Seth, he's promised us the milk from his finest cow, four chickens and two sacks of potatoes for them'. The slamming of a door was evidence enough that Lactopher's sister had angrily left the building.

'Fayeth' he groaned as he pulled the thin blanket from off of his body. Resting his head heavily into his hands, Lachtopher exhaled, disillusioned. Raking his fingers over his face somewhat painfully, he pulled himself together and stood up, barefoot. The cold, solid Yew flooring creaked as he made his way over to the door, opening it onto the landing as he readied himself for the descent into what was the living room.

The smell of freshly made nettle tea lightly scented the air in what was confirmation that Lachtopher's father, Roddeck, was home. 'Your sister's not happy with you sleeping in past noon' Roddeck disapproved as he took a sip from his mug. Roddeck's voice was aged, yet still carried a rough ruggedness to it, symbolic of years of adventure.