RuneScape Forum Archive | Romance in the Runes

YuBiusk Ink

Posts: 2,904 Adamant Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

Callia rubbed his eyes with a groan. The moon was passing by overhead. It had to be close to one in the morning.

But those abyssal fiddles.

The Zamorakians had been at it all night, prancing around, whooping and hollering and playing their fiddles around the campfire. Callia, and his fellow Saradominists, were desperately trying to get some sleep.

The healing had been fraught with complications. That summoner—"Hugh"—had been out of unicorn pouches, so they'd had to make do with good food and, well, prayer. Luckily, two of Callia's monks had survived the combat.

Callia sighed, sitting up. His helmet was off, showing a handsome, heavily scarred face. His eyes were blue, and uncommonly bright. His skin was a light tan, his hair a deep crimson. Callia Stelpur, White Knight in exile, drew his blanket around himself as the wind picked up. " Must you all continue that racket?" he growled.

They didn't seem to hear him. They were doing some sort of silly clapping dance, prancing dangerously close to the roaring campfire.

"Hey!" Callia shouted. " Would you all stop it? "

The five Zamorakians glanced over at him. Their leader, a stout crossbowman by the name of Marim O'Lum, laughed and waved dismissively. "Aw, don't be such a spoilsport, knight! We're just havin' some fun."

"This bacchanalia is keeping my people up all night!"

"Ha!" Marim giggled. " Bacchanalia . Now, there's a fun idea, and I'm sure it would keep y'all up." He winked. It took a moment for Callia to take his meaning, and he felt his cheeks flushing as Marim continued, twirling his fiddle in his hand. "But tell y'all what, give us ten more minutes to finish this li'l number an' then we'll let you sleep like Broodoo. Sound good?"

Callia glared. His heart burned with the desire to wipe that sly smirk off of Marim's face, to be rid of these wretched wassailers. Instead, he lay back down and covered his head with his pillow.

The fiddling resumed moments later.

23-Jul-2018 17:49:46

YuBiusk Ink

Posts: 2,904 Adamant Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

"Dimka, how long have you known me?"

Dimka scratched her head. "A month? Two months?"

"Three weeks, Dimka."

"That was my third guess."

Al sighed. She tapped her feet, clearly uncomfortable. A nagging voice at the back of Dimka's head told her to withdraw the question, that it was making Al unhappy, but she tuned the voice out. She was good at doing that.

"Okay, so you know I'm from Lumbridge. Moved there when I was a kid." The Witch grimaced, rubbing the back of her head. "I never knew my extended family. I guess they live somewhere south of the Kharidian. My parents brought the faith with them, taught me how to pray, what not to eat, y'know. Standard religion stuff."

Dimka nodded encouragingly.

"And..." Al bit her lip. "So I got into runecrafting, when the art was rediscovered. Do you remember that?"

Dimka giggled, leaning back on her hands as she sat in the sand. "We never had the rune crisis. My people are very close to runecrafting. But yes, I know about that time."

"Right." Ali the Witch rolled her eyes. "So everyone and their dog was going on big searches for the altars. We had the Water Altar just a few days' travel south. I got caught up in the craze."

"Yes." Dimka nodded. "So... what happened? What does all this have to do with your home port?"

"Well..." Al gave a short laugh. "The truth is—and I guess I shouldn't be telling you this, but, y'know, I think you deserve to know—"

Dimka leaned forward, now, trying to keep the heat from her cheeks, to play it cool. She could hardly breathe. Ever since they'd met, Al had been as stiff as a board when it came to questions about her past. Now, she was finally confiding, just as Dimka had hoped.

"It all started with a traveler," Al said, with a long, tired sigh. "I think he must have come from Kourend. His name... was Nunyafa."

Dimka blinked. "Nunyafa?"

"Nunyafucking business." Al flopped down on the cart and rolled onto her side, throwing a blanket over herself. "Where's Ali with those tents?"

25-Jul-2018 19:43:44

YuBiusk Ink

Posts: 2,904 Adamant Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

I'll be taking the next week off updates, but in the meantime, I'll look to answer a few questions a lot of my loyal readers have been raising on this thread in the new FAQ section.

Q: You seem to reference stuff from both OSRS and RS3. Which version is canon?

A: Both! This is a mixed lore. In my Runescape, Kourend and the Fountain of Rune may be seen to coexist peaceably with summoners and Daemonheim. Essentially, assume that we're dealing with Old School Runescape, but up to around the addition of While Guthix Sleeps and Dungeoneering. Other lore, like Ritual of the Mahjarrat , can be safely ignored in favor of OSRS's interpretations.

Q: What is "freecasting"?

A: We got this question a lot in the offices—my desk is piled high with letters! It will be explained in more detail within the story, but for the time being, freecasting is a form of magical experimentation which seeks to employ existing runes in new ways. It's pretty risky if you don't know what you're doing, which is why, by the way, mages don't try to teleport to places like Draynor. Essentially, sometimes Al chooses to cast from the Ali Spellbook.

27-Jul-2018 03:53:21

YuBiusk Ink

Posts: 2,904 Adamant Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

In the morning, Dimka decided that she and Al would go down to the marketplace to buy groceries for their host. She had not told Al this yet.

Al had been quiet after the squabble. Apparently, she thought that Dimka was suitably chastened and would stop trying to pry. To an extent, this was correct—Dimka had no further intentions of pushing on the subject of Al's home port spell. For now. That was something Al would have to tell her in her own time.

And Dimka was sure that Al would tell her eventually. Surely she would. They were almost friends, after all. Well, at any rate, they were getting very close to being almost friends, and that was just about as good.

But for now, she just walked through the desert and tried to put it all out of her head. She just walked, and let the breeze take it all away. For now, she wanted the only burden on her heart to be the wind.

She took a swig from her bottle, letting the familiar burn settle a queasy stomach. It dimly occurred to her that she'd skipped breakfast. Oh well.

"Sandwiches, Dimka Aitken!"

Spitting out her drink, Dimka spun around so sharply she nearly brained the speaker with the bottle.

Standing in front of her, hair and apron blowing in the wind, was a pale woman in a pink-and-white dress. She wore the white cap of a sandwich peddler, her brown hair done up in a plain ponytail. Her eyes were very bright and friendly as she smiled at Dimka and held up a tray of sandwiches, breads pies, and kebabs, though there was a spark of something else in those eyes that made the hairs on Dimka's arms stand on edge.

"Sandwich delivery, Dimka Aitken!" she chirped, giving her head an endearing tilt.

Dimka hesitated, then sighed, lowering the bottle. "Hi, Sandwich Lady."

"Hi, Dimka Aitken." The Sandwich Lady gave the tray a little shake. "You look hungry to me."

"Trust me, I am not."

"Morning drinking again?" The Sandwich lady tsk'd. "Didn't you tell Molly you were cutting back?"

Dimka's face went red.

(cont.)

09-Aug-2018 00:11:39

YuBiusk Ink

Posts: 2,904 Adamant Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

“It's only a sip to wake me up,” she said quickly.

The Sandwich Lady eyed her skeptically, then gave the tray another shake. “You won't keep it down unless you eat something. Here, have a baguette on me.”

Dimka swallowed. She honestly wasn't sure she could keep the bread down, but she didn't want to admit that. “Maybe later.”

“You think I baked these for fun?” The Sandwich Lady scowled. “What's the matter, Dimka Aitken? You look all aflutter. Are you in love again?”

Dimka was glad she'd already gone bright red. It was a good cover for this. “No, it's just... just worry.”

“It's not like you to worry, Dimka Aitken.” The Sandwich Lady clucked her tongue. “Have a baguette. And put whatever rotten girl you've got your eye on out of your head. You know they're never anything but trouble.”

“Thanks, but I don't need your bread. Or your advice.”

The Sandwich Lady's eyes glinted. “Maybe later.”

She vanished in a puff of smoke. The smoke was almost instantly blown away in turn by the rising wind.

Dimka bit her lip, momentarily off-balance from the conversation.

Then, as sand sprayed against her robes, it occurred to her that this wind might be becoming a bit of a problem.

She whirled around, shielding her eyes with her arm. “Al!” she shouted. The wind swallowed her words greedily. “Al!”

27-Aug-2018 03:56:59 - Last edited on 27-Aug-2018 03:57:26 by YuBiusk Ink

YuBiusk Ink

Posts: 2,904 Adamant Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

Though Dimka didn't know it, roughly six hundred miles north of her location and thirty feet down, a mercenary from the Eastern Lands had delivered an ancient relic to an adventurer who was not too much unlike Dimka Aitken and Ali the Witch themselves. Though it was entirely irrelevant in almost every immediate respect to the plights of Dimka Aitken and Ali the Witch, the aims of this adventurer and their present allies—for the allies of this adventurer faded in and out like raindrop ripples in a puddle, the allies of an agent at once mercurial and loyal to a dangerous fault—were to use this ancient relic upon an ancient altar to contact an ancient god whose name was known to very few. Though ordinarily, the emergence of this ancient god would be cause for Ali the Witch to celebrate, it so happened that this emergence was bound to trigger certain ancient memories throughout the world—for, of course, this ancient god was Zaros, and Their terrible power and capacity for bitter spite had been legendary even before Their betrayal at the hands of the only soul They had ever trusted. Though the near-destabilization of the Abyssal Rift with which both Dimka and Ali were loosely familiar certainly would have intrigued both of them in terms of destructive possibilities, infinitely more relevant to their present situation would be that, as Zaros's eyes were opened once more to the world They had once looked after, this wretched god of hollow power and empty cities, the deserts upon which They had once waged war were to be visited by a terrible reminder—a ghost of the portent of the long-ago treachery of the Stern Judges of Icthlarin, who had been almost universally inspired to turn from the Menaphites' side upon witnessing the might of the Empty Lord exerted upon their realm.

(cont.)

27-Aug-2018 04:18:18

YuBiusk Ink

Posts: 2,904 Adamant Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

(cont.)

To put things simply, the Temple at Senntisten was back in business, and Zaros was pissed off. And when gods get angry, generally speaking, some troublesome weather is the least one can expect.

And so as Dimka raced back to where she was so, so terribly certain the shelter was—

And as Al gnawed upon her knuckles, sitting upon the cart, and wondered why Dimka was taking so long to get back—

And as Ali the Carter, down below, glanced up at the ceiling and wondered why his trick leg was acting up—

And as the tenuous alliance between Saradominists and Zamorakians at last crossed the gates into Al Kharid, ready to hunt down a heretical witch and claim justice for the capitalists of Misthalian who had been so terribly and unfairly wronged—

The sands began to roil, and the skies began to roar, in the first true sandstorm Al Kharid had faced in seventy-three years.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

ENTER THE INTERMISSION

27-Aug-2018 04:18:29 - Last edited on 27-Aug-2018 04:19:24 by YuBiusk Ink

YuBiusk Ink

Posts: 2,904 Adamant Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

See you all next summer!

27-Aug-2018 04:21:31

YuBiusk Ink

Posts: 2,904 Adamant Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

~ ~ INTERMISSION II ~ ~

The 13th day of Icthlember, of the 1033rd year of the Second Age

"Home" is a story you tell yourself to feel safer. The only true nation is a tortoise's shell.

I told that to Pharaoh Senliten today, and she looked at me the way they all look at us these days.

Sliske left last night. I descended from the tower this morning and found Trindine nearly inconsolable, curled up at the base of the steps. She told me everything, which is unlike her. I went and told this to Azzanadra. I despise speaking to Azzanadra. I know how he thinks of me, but I know he holds nothing but contempt for the slippery necromancer. Sliske may be plotting treason.

He told me to keep it to myself. He told me to stay silent. He told me Sliske would be among us once again soon enough. He did not say that Sliske would come back.

He told me to keep my mouth shut.

My duties these days are simple and lackluster. I am little more than a petty royal scribe. I am told to "keep the peace". It is almost an insult to our kind. A part of me hungers for war, real war, ruinous war, a war with blood and fire in which I can relish the strength I have been forced to cut from my siblings in Ritual after Ritual. To have come all this way only to stagnate in luxury! War! It is what a Mahjarrat is bound to, and I despise our self-declared "friend" Icthlarin for binding us to this wretched nation and its wretched mortal populace.

The others are restless. As always, I will be the last to know. I suppose I must abandon the Menaphites if the others do. It is for the best. It will make us all strong. Zaros wielded such pure, blinding light...

"Home" is a story. "Nation" is a lie. My home was Freneskae, once, but violence was woven into the walls we enchanted around our camp perimeter. Now my home is a cage that weakens me. Pharaoh Senliten does not understand. I speak with her more than any other Mahjarrat. She knows my name, shares jokes with me.

21-Jun-2019 02:19:28

YuBiusk Ink

Posts: 2,904 Adamant Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

They blame us for what is happening to Amascut. We are feared. Icthlarin promised peace, promised home, but what is home? It is a lie he tells us. It is a lie I tell myself. A home cannot have violence within its walls, and the Mahjarrat can never be free of violence—nor should we, for what greater glory? What greater purpose?

~~But maybe~~

But Icthlarin was right to beat Sliske.

I can never say it aloud. I can never even imply it. He would unmake me, Trindine would cut my throat, and even those who hate the snake would jump at the chance to punish the worm. I cannot even say it to the Pharaoh, who could almost be what the Menaphites call a "friend" to me, for she would not understand how dangerous my words are.

But it is true. I watched Sliske hiss and spit, leap at the master like a traitorous dog. And I watched Icthlarin beat him down and force him to release the thousand enslaved souls. I heard Sliske's wrist break, and knew that Sliske would never be able to perfectly heal a wound inflicted by the Jackal's Staff. And I was glad. I was tired of Sliske's tortured souls keeping the castle staff awake at night. Sliske hoarded power, hoarded souls—the souls of those who fought with us as well as against us.

Those souls are free, and that is just fine by me. And I can say so here. Much as I hate Icthlarin, and Azzanadra, and Zamorak, and all the pretenders who mock and degrade and lie to me, let all the conniving Sliskes and Luciens and Zemouregals of the world have their wrists broken, and let no bone ever quite heal right.

Let the dead soldier rest. The living cause each other enough trouble.

I think I should wish Pharaoh Senliten a fair night and be off. At least the human still confides in me. Almost trusts me. I take a strange comfort in that.

It would be pleasant to believe in "home".

But my old creaking bones tell me that the story will be changing soon enough.

– Judge Jhallan, Stern Judge of Icthlarin, Royal Counsel of the Pharaoh of Uzer

21-Jun-2019 02:38:46

Forums

Romance in the Runes