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Crystal Smee

Crystal Smee

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Lol, sorry Sigurdur.

It takes a lot of time, I have to fix up each chapter - spellcheck, add stuff to make it as best as I can since I've improved since I wrote it, stuff like that =P

I lost internet last night right after I made all these promises >_< I can't guarantee a chapter tonight. After I type the review for Kashan's Tale, a chapter here is next on my list.

10-Jul-2006 00:22:53

Crystal Smee

Crystal Smee

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~*~ Chapter 7 ~*~


Bydor turned around, inches away from the scarred, ugly face of a Zamorakian guard.

"Kin I help yer?" Bydor asked roughly. The Zamorakian guard smiled crookedly.

"Yes, you kin," the guard replied, gaps between his blackened teeth visible. "Yer can tell me why yer be wearing a sword in town and what you be doin' with the laddies."

Bydor grinned roguishly. "I sure kin. I'm a guard, and I caught these laddies stealing. They put up a bit of a fight, y’see, lost my cloak when they tore it ter ribbons. I confiscated their blades," he produced the two knives, "and I be takin' 'em ter youse, to fin' out where the nearest prison be."

"Yer don' know it? And that be a White Knight blade..." The guard looked skeptical.

"Naw, see...I were with the fellers that attacked the hideout last night, following the runaways. I escaped, I were the only one. I found the blade and switched it with the one I had, this un's nicer. Yer see, I did no want to go running back to Lerd Zamorak – yer know how he be with those who run, so I came here and joined the guards. I 'ent been here long though, I don' know where the headquarters be," Bydor explained. The guard raised an eyebrow, and Bydor's face crumpled.

"Yer won't tell the Lerd, will yer?" he begged imploringly. The Zamorakian's face creased in a rugged smile.

"O' course not, mate. I unnerstands, Zamorak be mighty fearful. The garrison's got cells, thataways," he gestured south, back out of the town. Bydor cursed inwardly.

10-Jul-2006 03:15:04 - Last edited on 10-Jul-2006 19:15:48 by Crystal Smee

Crystal Smee

Crystal Smee

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"Thankee," he bobbed his head and turned to head for the prison.


As Bydor and his charges vanished into the crowds, the Zamorakian trotted back to his fellows.

"You!" he snapped at one. The guard turned.

"I need yer to go back ter Lerd Zamorak. Tell 'im the Chosen migh' still be alive, an' Jakar be following 'em. Got it?" he said breathlessly, looking for the man he had just spoken to. He couldn’t let them get out of his sight for too long – if his suspicions were right, they wouldn’t be going to the prison.

"Jakar be followin' someone who migh' still be the Chosen, got it," the guard repeated, and jogged off. Jakar turned and dashed through the crowds, shoving peasants out of his way. He had to catch the man. He didn't believe a word the man had said, and he had been told there was the Chosen and a brother, of teen age. If the man had spoken true, he would take them to the prison at the barracks. If he was lying, he would detour around, most likely. He had seen the wince when the man found out it was south. They were headed north, for sure.

He spotted the tall man, and settled into a comfortable pace behind them.


Bydor leaned down to speak to Logaen and Saine. "We're in trouble now, lads," he sighed. "I don't know if we can get around."

"We have to," Logaen replied, eyebrows furrowed with worry.

Saine twisted in Bydor's iron grip. "Bydor, the guard is following us. He's on to us," he hissed. Louder, he shouted, “Lemme go!” and struggled for a moment longer. Bydor's face creased in a frown for a moment before he caught on. Then his grip tightened.

10-Jul-2006 03:15:09 - Last edited on 10-Jul-2006 19:16:03 by Crystal Smee

Crystal Smee

Crystal Smee

Posts: 7,994 Rune Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
“Shuttup!” he growled back. A few passerby turned to stare, and Bydor shook Saine angrily. “This is wha’ yer get, lawbreaking brat!”

"We could kill him," Logaen suggested softly, his lips barely moving.

"In plain daylight, here? That’ll definitely give us away. I can put you in the prison, and get you out later," Bydor countered.

"I'm sick of jails," Saine chuckled dryly.

Logaen elbowed him in the ribs. "I don't care how many times you've been in jail unjustly, Saine, would you rather be dead?" he snapped sharply. Saine flinched.

"Fine," he muttered. "Lock us away, then, Bydor." Then, in a louder voice, he shouted. "Lemme go, Zamorakian scum! You's got no right to be takin' me aways. I were jus' hun'ry!"

Bydor's face creased in a frown for a moment before he caught on. "Shuttup, brat!" he snarled. "Thievin' no be allowed in the Lerd's lands! Which be all lands!" He cackled malignantly. "And you been caught with weapons, which no be allowed neither!"

Logaen cursed loudly. "We were jus' hungry, ser. We be mighty poor. The weapons, they was to defen' ourselves. Many people be cruel to the poor. Jus' for defen'!" he pleaded. Bydor slapped him.

"Shuttup! Yer goin' ter jail, an' that be that!" he snarled. "Sorry," he murmured after in the teen's ear. The trees ahead parted to reveal the barracks, a low, drab stone building. Bydor guided them inside, trailed by Jakar.

Directly inside were the cells. The former White Knight snatched a ring of keys from a desk in the corner and unlocked an empty cell. Aware of Jakar watching him, though he was not supposed to know, he shoved the young men roughly into the cell and slammed the door shut. Then he rose, painting a look of surprise on his face as he saw the guard.

10-Jul-2006 03:15:13 - Last edited on 10-Jul-2006 19:16:25 by Crystal Smee

Crystal Smee

Crystal Smee

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"Oh, ser. What be you doin' 'ere?" he asked bluntly.

"I came ter write up a report for the Lerd, you know, day's happenin's," the guard fibbed. Inside, he cursed himself for being so foolish as to let himself get caught. Staring openly like that – what was he thinking? No, he wasn’t thinking, he chided himself furiously.

"I see. Say, yer got any spare unerforms 'ere? Like I said, them little brats ruined me guard clothes. Had to take some civilian clothes," Bydor asked, thinking he might be able to get away if he could pass for a guard.

"Yep, foller me," the guard replied. He turned on his heel, leading Bydor down a narrow corridor. His views of the man had changed. He had put the lads in the jail, after all. Still, he would bear watching. There was something about him – he couldn’t place his finger on it. He was sure he’d seen him before. But where?

He finally guided him into a storage room. He kicked open a crate, revealing fresh, glimmering crimson military uniforms. "Here yer go."

Bydor reached down, snatching a set. As the guard watched, he pulled them on over his shirt and trousers. “Say, what’s your name?" he began conversationally, breaking the long silence.

Jakar produced a cigar from a pocket and lit it with his striker. "I be Jakar, Captain of the Port Sarim guard. And you?”


“The name’s Bydor,” he replied.

Jakar nodded and took a long pull on the cigar. Holding it in one hand, he let out a breath of smoke. “I need ter go write me reports, if'n yer don' mind." He bobbed his head in acknowledgement and strode from the room.

10-Jul-2006 03:15:18 - Last edited on 10-Jul-2006 19:16:52 by Crystal Smee

Crystal Smee

Crystal Smee

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Jakar trotted down the hallway to a lonely office, chewing on the end of the cigar. That man...he remembered the wince at mention of south, the only evidence he had had. How was that evidence, really? It could just bring memories of the previous night, of the slaughter of his comrades. He sighed and sunk into the rickety chair, snatching a sheet of parchment.

He began to scribble out a message, occasionally dipping his quill in the tub of ink at his side. Finally, he sat back, rereading the scroll.

'My Lord Zamorak,

I, Captain Jakar, offer my regrets of the false alarm earlier. I hope that you recieved my messenger, stating I thought the Chosen of Saradomin was still alive, and I thought I found him.

I followed the man, and he seems innocent. He would not lock the Chosen away in the cell, not with the respect that boy deserves in the Saradominist world.

Therefore, the Chosen must indeed be dead. I suppose this is well. Disregard my former messenger.

Blessings of chaos,
Captian Jakar

Satisfied, he rolled up the scroll in a quick, shuffling motion. Then he stepped into the corridor, pausing an idle guard.

"Take this to Lerd Zamorak, and only Lerd Zamorak," he snapped. The guard dashed off. He leaned against the wall, pondering. It was a shame, really. Catching the Chosen would have put him high in the Lord's favor.


~*~ End of Chapter ~*~

10-Jul-2006 03:15:22 - Last edited on 10-Jul-2006 19:17:21 by Crystal Smee

[#0SFNE5HCE]

[#0SFNE5HCE]

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This has to be the biggest disgrace ever to cross the history of the story forum.I have never seen such a pathetic attempt at a story,it is completely useless.I hope to never read anything as awful as this ever again.There were poor descrptions,no detail what so ever and the plot was awful.I cannot believe someone could like this story.
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That was a joke,by the way,I wanted to be different :P ,really liked the story just thought I'd give everyone a scare :P



~~The enemy of my enemy is my friend~~

10-Jul-2006 11:41:12

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