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~*Illuminating Shadows*~

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[#JW5UZEVGH]

[#JW5UZEVGH]

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bump

Bump.

~*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*~
--NOT the proud owner of the attack cape--
--NOT the proud owner of the defense cape--
--NOT the proud owner of the strength cape--
--NOT the proud owner of the quest cape--
--I AM the proud owner of the nothing cape!--
~*^*^*^*~A LOYAL BUMPER, IF NOTHING ELSE**^*^*^*^**

signature your as this use backwards this read to enough smart were you if

24-Apr-2008 22:08:57

[#JW5UZEVGH]

[#JW5UZEVGH]

Posts: 1,675 Mithril Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
wooties!

~*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*~
--NOT the proud owner of the attack cape--
--NOT the proud owner of the defense cape--
--NOT the proud owner of the strength cape--
--NOT the proud owner of the quest cape--
--I AM the proud owner of the nothing cape!--
~*^*^*^*~A LOYAL BUMPER, IF NOTHING ELSE**^*^*^*^**

signature your as this use backwards this read to enough smart were you if

25-Apr-2008 18:16:45

iPakkArrowz

iPakkArrowz

Posts: 1,761 Mithril Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
GREAT BELIN! Nice story! it feels like ur in it great job poller u have a very good story writing skill! Just one problem...

TO MANY BIG WORDS! dumb ppl like me cant understand all the big words u use!
~Whee
Check out my story:The Sight

25-Apr-2008 20:41:38

Poller5
Dec Member 2023

Poller5

Posts: 11,421 Opal Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
~*Chapter Seven: Divinity*~
Halldór sat in silence in his cell, once more possessed by the self-destructive cycle of his thoughts. The dishonour he had brought himself, the dishonour he had brought his family, the dishonor he had brought to his tribe; all of it culminating in a paralyzing sequence of thoughts, one that left him unable to do anything beyond think of it. In battling alone was he free, for it is in battle that one wins honour: conversely, dishonour can be battled in combat.
A knock on his door shook him from his reverie, and before he could stand, the door swung open and Roghr entered. The dwarf was not, for the first time Halldór could remember, wearing armour, or even carrying his warhammer. Instead, he wore a simple tunic and leather breaches. His impressive beard, the same dark brown colour as was his hair, was uncharacteristically neat, and his long hair was pulled into a braid that fell down his back.
"Come, we have much to do today," the dwarf grunted. If Halldór had learned one thing from associating with the dwarf, it was to not question his orders: if he felt something would be a waste of your time, he wouldn't ask – or order – you to do it. The two departed the room and exited the Gladiatorial Barracks.
It was at this time, as he emerged from the barracks, that Halldór first laid eyes on the city that was Varrock. The location of the Barracks so near to the walls of the inner-city meant that the buildings around it were the nicest in the outer-city. Built to impress, the buildings were larger than anything Halldór had ever seen: in fact, he had never before seen stone used to build a house, only strongholds and castles. Roghr, noting Halldór's amazement, bade him turn around.
The amphitheatre of Varrock was the most impressive building Halldór had ever set his eyes on. Rising from the internal wall of the city, its walls were dominated by arches that ran all around it on each level.

27-Apr-2008 21:02:51 - Last edited on 27-Apr-2008 21:09:53 by Poller5

Poller5
Dec Member 2023

Poller5

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Statues of gods, heroes and former kings, crafted in marble and gilded by the finest craftsmen in the kingdom, they shone resplendently out of their niches, reminding all who looked on them of the wealth and power of Varrock. The building itself was completely covered in marble, the noonday sun blazing down on it and making it appear magical. "To think such beauty plays host to such brutality," Roghr mused, causing Halldór to look up at him, surprised.
"I thought you liked the fights," Halldór said, bemused.
"They are my life much in the same way that they are yours. I enjoy them no more than you do," the dwarf said. Halldór's disbelieving look seemed to set the dwarf back, and so he carried on. "My job is to train people so that they might live a bit longer. Within the amphitheatre, death is a certainty: a certainty hovering over the heads of all who are forced to fight there. I teach them, train them to use their weapon better, to prolong their life. Not to prevent their death, but rather to add some time to their now pitiful existence." The stoic dwarf then paused, seemingly overcome with emotion. "I make them better," he said, derision and hatred evident in his voice, "So that their death might be more entertaining."
The dwarf fell silent after that, and Halldór did not say anything as the dwarf led him around the city towards an unknown destination. As they walked, Halldór began to sink back into the degenerate state his mind had reached, and by the time the dwarf halted him he barely noticed it. He did notice, however, the elbow Roghr sent into his side. He swung about, ready to give the dwarf what for when his eyes fell on their destination: the high temple of Brenin.
Almost as large as the amphitheatre, the high temple was beyond anything Halldór had ever seen. Rising over one hundred feet high, and stretching almost seven hundred feet long, it was the largest church in the kingdom.

27-Apr-2008 21:03:12 - Last edited on 27-Apr-2008 21:11:58 by Poller5

Poller5
Dec Member 2023

Poller5

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Alone of all the buildings in the city, it was made entirely of marble. Over a period of fifty years the finest craftsmen from across the kingdom journeyed to Varrock to aid in the completion of the stellar temple.
Much like the amphitheatre, statues, solely of the gods, decorated the exterior, but they were plated in silver, not gold. A gilded frieze ran all along the top of the temple, ten feet high and crafted so masterfully it appeared to be real. "And that's just the outside," Roghr said, nudging Halldór and giving a chuckle.
Struck dumb, Halldór merely followed the dwarf as they walked up the doors. Roghr gave a light knock, softer than Halldór would have thought his sturdy frame would be able to produce, and the door swung open. An ancient man dressed in white robes greeted them; the very air around him seemed peaceful and calm. "Who is this you've brought me, Roghr?" he asked, his voice smooth and calm.
"New gladiator – he's from the north," Roghr said, and in his voice Halldór noted a profound level of respect.
"A Fremennik?" the man asked, and Roghr nodded. The priest walked over to Halldór, and once more he noted the serenity of the air around the man. "You are troubled, gladiator," the priest said softly. "Many feelings that you have never before experienced now race through your mind. Be wary, for your own mind may turn into the greatest foe you have ever faced. Remember that somewhere, concealed, perhaps, within you is the answer to your dilemma, the solution for which you will one day reach. I pray that you find it someday." Halldór looked down on the priest in amazement: how had he been able to ascertain so much of his plight so easily? Then again, what business of his was it to be telling him of his problems? A short lived, but furious, battle raged in his mind between these two opinions, resulting in his face twisting into a humorous grimace.

27-Apr-2008 21:03:31

Poller5
Dec Member 2023

Poller5

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"Constipated, warrior?" Roghr chuckled. The priest gave a small smile before walking away, and Halldór's visage straightened. "There is a reason I brought you here today, Fremennik," the dwarf grunted. "You live here now, albeit not by your own choosing, and only a fool would not wish to understand the society in which he lives. You know nothing of us, except for the penchant of the mob for the fights. I will educate you." Halldór said nothing, but he was pleased: no point wasting your time education someone who's just going to die; Roghr evidently felt that freedom was not outside his realm of possibility.
"Right now, you are in a temple of Brenin, the king of our gods," Roghr explained. "It was he, along with Brenhines, his wife, that created Gielinor in ages gone past. They gave birth to three children: Diwrnod, the god of the day; Noson, god of the night, and Cyfnos, the god of twilight. These five are the principal gods of our religion, and while we are aware that other gods exist elsewhere, they are generally ignored."
"You talk as if you don't believe in all the achievements of your gods," Halldór noted.
"I was not born into these gods. My father… he was a freed gladiator. I was taught of the dwarven gods – those are the gods I believe in. Teaching you of them, however, is not productive: you live amongst Varrockians now, not dwarves. Do I believe Brenin created Gielinor? No. Nor, however, do I doubt his power.
"A god is a great being; a being that exists as an incarnation of the virtue or concept it embodies. Humans – all mortal beings, in fact – however, are not privy to the exact will of their gods, and so their words are twisted; their message changed for the benefit of those who "interpret" their will. Religion, at its purest, is a beautiful thing – the concept of people working and toiling together because, in their hearts, they believe in the same thing as their god. This is hardly the truth of the matter, however.

27-Apr-2008 21:03:47

Poller5
Dec Member 2023

Poller5

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"Religion has become a tool of the corrupt, a lever with which mobs may be moved and influenced in a way that benefits those who wield it.
"Here in this temple, some of the purest priests in the world live. You have met one, and I assure you that among the religious folk, people like him are the exception, never the rule," Roghr's voice had rose as he talked – this was an emotional matter for him – but he soon pulled himself back together. "But I digress. Where was I?"
"The five gods," Halldór said. Though he rarely engaged in religious conversations in his homeland, religion had played a major part in his life and he was curious about the Varrockian beliefs.
"Ah, yes. Diwrnod and his brothers are all considered equal, but their powers are very different. Diwrnod is the god most temples in the kingdom are dedicated to, and is the god citizens pray to for good fortune and good lives. Noson, the god of night, is the god of justice, revenge, and war. Warriors sing his praises, and pray to him. He is, if you will, the most powerful of the three. Cyfnos is prayed to less than any of the others, for few note his importance – he intervenes less in our affairs than the other gods. He is an observer, recording the events of our age. He is the god of knowledge and wisdom – scholars and wizards pray to him."
"Your gods are interesting," Halldór said after a moment of silence. "Our gods are rather simpler, and it is their concepts, and not them or their priests, that guide our actions."
"Then I daresay you lead a purer life than we do," Roghr said, seemingly envious. "Now, I'm afraid I have to take you back to your cell now – the hour draws late. I am, however, interested to hear of your gods."

27-Apr-2008 21:04:10 - Last edited on 27-Apr-2008 21:18:46 by Poller5

Poller5
Dec Member 2023

Poller5

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"Perhaps one day I will tell you of them, then," Halldór said. "I would enjoy that."
"As would I," Roghr said sincerely. They then left the temple, heading back for the Gladiatorial Barracks; to Halldór's surprise, his mind remained clear and unaffected by the cycle for a long time after leaving the temple. Perhaps a god was looking after him after all.
~~~
Enjoy, guys.

27-Apr-2008 21:04:29

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