RuneScape Forum Archive | Sweet, Sweet Revenge

[#BPN2TQMFI]

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Hello! I am Reegena!
If you clicked on this thread, then you did so for one of three reasons:
1. You're bored out of your mind and want to start following a story.
2. You know me, and you like my writing, so you figured this story should be pretty good and interesting.
3. You've read and know this story, and you want to see me repost it.
Sweet, Sweet Revenge is the story that got me started on the forums. I've decided to revist my glory days, revamp this story, and then repost it. I hope you enjoy it, because I plan on making it better than it was before.
So, sit back, relax, and prepare yourself to be pulled into Sweet, Sweet Revenge, the first story in the Revenge Chronicles.
~Reegena

20-Jun-2010 21:53:42 - Last edited on 20-Jun-2010 21:55:13 by [#BPN2TQMFI]

[#BPN2TQMFI]

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Rule 1: NO SPAMMING!@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
Rule 2: ALL JAGEX RULES APPLY
Rule 3: Don't flame me, it hurts my feelings.
Rule 4: There is no Rule 4, and if you're one of my fans, you'd know that there never was.
Rule 5: I'm NOT taking bios because this story is already FINISHED.
Rule 6: If you're going to wage war and you choose to use my thread as a battlefield, keep it to bumps only. Once every few days, or (if the story forums suddenly become popular again) when my story gets kicked to the third page or lower.
Rule 7: Don't let me get eatted.

~ ~ ~
Supported Threads:
I like to support threads; it's fun.
1. Infamous - another story by me! (QFC: 49-50-387-60195456)
2. The Reviewing Stage - a review thread owned by me! (QFC: 49-50-216-61138640)

20-Jun-2010 21:53:58 - Last edited on 20-Jun-2010 23:15:08 by [#BPN2TQMFI]

[#BPN2TQMFI]

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Table of Contents:
Page 1, Post 1: Intro
Page 1, Post 2: Rules
Page 1, Post 3: Table of Contents (duh)
Page 1, Post 4: Prologue
Location of Chapters:
Prologue: Page 1, all. (1 post)
Chapter One: Pages 1 and 2, all. (7 posts)

20-Jun-2010 21:53:59 - Last edited on 20-Jun-2010 23:00:38 by [#BPN2TQMFI]

[#BPN2TQMFI]

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Prologue
To every story, myth or truth, there is a beginning and an end. It has been my sworn duty to write the past of my family so that you may prepare yourself for the future and what is to come. For all of you about to read these pages, my condolences I offer.
These pages were not meant to be read by mortal eye, but rather, the immortal spirit to follow when life itself has passed us by. I have written these in hopes that someday they shall not be forgotten, even though the danger is no longer here.
This story standing alone is not treacherous, but together, all of the chapters and books represent everything I have come to live and know. If you do not wish to continue, I will not hold you accountable for any of the evil you may encounter in your lifetime.
So please those about to succumb to the ink markings on this parchment, heed my warning. Evil is a hard thing to overcome.
-Mary Richardson, Last Daughter of the Dream and Scribe for the man who is my Father

20-Jun-2010 21:54:13 - Last edited on 20-Jun-2010 22:52:57 by [#BPN2TQMFI]

[#BPN2TQMFI]

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Chapter 1
The green-blue murky water lazily rolled by as I sat, propped up against a hard oak tree, with my fishing pole dipped in the water. The fish weren't biting.
I sighed and pulled my line out of the river. Setting my pole to the side, I gazed into the cloudy water. This was my favorite fishing spot because there was always something to catch. But right now, nothing. Not even the tiniest of sardines. Maybe it had something to do with the water, murky instead of crystal clear like usual. It gets this way once and a while, when all the businesses in the area dump their ashes into the river. I learned the hard way that fish don't taste too good when they have been swimming in a river thick with ash.
I dipped my hand into the river, nice and cool. After sitting in the sun all day, waiting for non-existent fish to bite, the cool water felt nice against my dry, sun-dyed skin. Hoping it wouldn't kill me, I dipped my arm all the way up to my elbow. I swished my arm around, upsetting the silt on the bottom. What was I feeling for? Fish? I laughed and pulled my arm back out.
After wiping my arm on my shirt, I grabbed my fishing pole and my bag. As I slowly got to my feet, I slung my bag over my shoulder.
"Well, this was a waste," I mumbled as I began walking back through the woods. I had a bad habit of talking to myself out loud when I was alone. My mother always teased me about it. She told me that, if I wasn’t careful, I’d get hauled off to the loony bin.
The trees in the forest around me, mostly oak and maple, were starting to change color already. Fall was approaching quickly. This year it was coming early, for it was only September. A sudden breeze caught me off guard. I shivered and tried not to think about how cold I was. Of course, I was unsuccessful.

20-Jun-2010 22:53:44

[#BPN2TQMFI]

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"Goblin," I said with a smirk. I remembered my brother's favorite past-time. I looked around for a rock. When I found one, I scooped it up and held it for a moment. About the size of my fist, I weighed it in order to be sure it wasn't too heavy. First, I had to make. sure the goblin wasn't looking. Of course he wasn’t, why would he be?
Then, I threw the rock with all my might. It took a lot of effort. I wasn’t a very strong girl.
BULL’S-EYE! The rock flew through the air and hit the hideous creature right smack dab on the back of its ugly little head.
The goblin, startled from being hit with a rock so randomly, staggered a few steps and collapsed.
Watching the poor little monster fall made me feel ever so cruel. Guilt, something I was way too familiar with, was setting in. How exactly had my brother gotten enjoyment from this horrifyingly mean sport? He and his friends were always going out in the woods to do it, but they never let me come. Now that I’ve done it, it did*’t seem like very much fun at all. I stared at the goblin's motionless body for another moment.
I hope I didn't kill it. I bit my lip. I did that a lot too. I was always biting my lip, worrying, and feeling guilty for things I had no reason to feel guilty for. The goblin still wasn’t moving. Now, I’d never seen anything dead in my life – unless I counted the dinner roasts – but this stupid little green monster was looking more and more like it. That in itself kind of bothered me. All the times he’d mentioned throwing rocks at goblins, my brother had never mentioned the green-things dying.
He called it a multi-step activity, and if you weren’t paying complete attention when you participated, you’d face some dire consequences. Let’s see. Step one was finding a rock. Step two was throwing it. What was step three?

20-Jun-2010 22:54:20

[#BPN2TQMFI]

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The goblin twitched. As it struggled to climb to its feet, I noticed a large bump on the back of its head. I must have caused that. I did*’t know whether to feel excited or upset. The bump on the head of that goblin was the only injury that I’d ever purposefully caused to a creature. Oh well, it wasn’t dead, and at the moment, that’s all I cared about.
Things have a tendency of popping into my head and the oddest times, and suddenly I remembered what I was supposed to do next. I was supposed to run.
Why was I supposed to run? I couldn’t think of any real reason. That’s, of course, when the goblin turned, grabbed his little spear, and started running, straight at me.
Ah, so that’s why I’m supposed to run. It makes sense. The poor little guy is angry that I threw a rock at him. Or maybe he’s just angry for being hit. It’s not like he’s smart enough to actually realize that I’m the one who threw the rock.
I took off running, obviously, away from the goblin, leaping over rocks, bounding over logs, and barely missing trees. When I came to the road, I stopped to look behind me. Thankfully, goblins’ legs are much shorter than the legs of humans, and the ugly creature had given up trying to catch me. My heart was pounding and I had an ache in my side.
I broke out laughing. Honestly, I couldn't help myself. I couldn't stop either. Now I knew that my brother had tormented those dumb monsters all these years for the adrenalin rush, that natural high. It’s actually a lot more fun to throw rocks at goblins than I could have ever imagined. I must do it again sometime.
When the ache in my side became a unbearable shooting pain, I forced stopped laughing for my own good. Gasping for air, I sat down on the side of the road.

20-Jun-2010 22:56:35

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I wasn't that far from the house my parents owned in the great city of Varrock, but I still wouldn't make it home in time for dinner. Mother always made dinner at the same time, and she was never one to reheat it when someone arrived late. I decided it was best to eat now, since I was already sitting down and my stomach was growling.
I set my bag in my lap and dug through it. I pulled out several things before I got to my supper: a loaf of stale bread . . . yum.
One of the things I had pulled out was my dagger. It wasn't customary for a woman to walk around armed and children weren't supposed to get anywhere near a sword. So being a fourteen year old female, I broke both of those rules. I did*’t care though. Somehow, I felt safer knowing that I could at least look dangerous if someone tried to mug me.
The few minutes it took me to eat my bread were quiet, thoughtless minutes. When I finished the last tiny piece, I packed up everything, but my dagger, which I decided to keep in plain sight for the walk home. The streets a dusk definitely weren’t the safest in the world.
As I got up and started walking, I examined the weapon closer. My father, a proud member of the Varrock Guard, had given it to me for my fourteenth birthday in hopes that, by now, I would be mature enough to go places without supervision, and I could use it to protect myself without killing myself.
The dagger itself wasn't anything impressive, just a bronze dagger my father had probably bought at the general store on his lunch break, but I guess this dagger and I were a good match because, I wasn't anything impressive either. I had never wielded, let alone used, a weapon in my life. This dagger was going to be my first real chance at learning swordplay. I did*’t want to learn how to fight – not a lot of girls did – but it’d be a nice idea to become adept enough to protect myself from thieves.

20-Jun-2010 22:57:16

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The dagger felt heavy in my hand. I felt the blade. (The flat side, I'm not stupid enough to run my finger along the edge.) It was as dark as mud and cool to the touch. I imagined myself using it and cringed. I guess, if I absolutely had to, I could wave it around in self-defense, but it wouldn't help me at all. If I was robbed, I'd probably throw my bag at the thief and run, screaming, to my mommy. Yes, I am that much of a coward.
The sun was setting as I climbed the last hill and Varrock came into view. My mom would probably be worried sick. She had lectured me about the dangers of wandering around after dark. She was a bit of a worry-wart when I stayed out late, and I have to admit that I was too. Walking around at night was scary, very scary, especially since we did*’t live in the nicest of neighborhoods. It isn’t like we resided in the slums, but our neighbors weren’t high class, either.
I had lived in Varrock all of my life. It was all I knew. There was something comforting about living your whole life in the town you had been born in and never really left. Yeah, I never left Varrock. Why would I? I had no reason to. I wasn’t an adventurer who was dying to become famous and rich. I was the daughter of a Varrock Guard.
My father and mother would speak to me about how safe it was here during the day, and I found that easy to believe. I mean, nothing really happens to you when you’re family is well known among Guards and not wealthy. Nobody wants to rob or kidnap someone if they don’t really get anything out of it. This was the safe era. Most women and children would’ve been trained in the art of swordsmanship early in their lives in any other city, but here we really have nothing to worry about, nothing at all. The walls protected us from enemies – if the king actually had any.

20-Jun-2010 22:57:49

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I felt bad about leaving Mother alone, for both my father and brother were in the Guard, so they worked odd hours. Sometimes they even spent all night working. Mother was timid and proper. She was a really good mom, but she wasn’t very good at anything else. If the two of us were paired against each other in a sword duel, I might actually win.
I jogged the rest of the way to my house. I can't wait to lie in bed and rest my aching feet. It’s a long walk from the river to home. I don’t know what I’d tell my mother. She’d probably be a bit irritated that I spent all day fishing and then did*’t return with one trout.
When I arrived, I stood in front gray stone building for a moment. This was my home, and it was comforting even if it was nothing impressive to a passer-by.
When I opened the door, I back-pedaled.
The whole house was a mess: chairs were overturned, papers thrown everywhere, a stray dog was eating leftover meat on the table, and my mom's knitting was laying in a puddle of red...
"Mama!" I yelled, running across the room to her bedroom. I threw open the door, the scene there was basically the same. Drawers were open, their contents spilled out. I broke into a cold sweat. We've been robbed! But why? We owned nothing that could have been stolen. Thieves must have broken in, and they hurt Mama...or worse.
"Oh no," I whispered, even though there was nobody here to overhear me. I closed my eyes and then reopened then, in hopes that the awful scene would disappear from existence. Mama…What happened to Mama? Fat, hot tears broke free from eyes began to pour down my face. I was stunned. For the first time in my whole life, something bad happened. I did*’t know what to do.

20-Jun-2010 22:58:22

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