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[#CHDFOMJYA]

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Jarvel paused. This was all the daemon needed, and it spun up, smashing into Jarvel’s chest. He was knocked backwards, and the daemon twisted above him. He lifted the evil sword, and lashed out. The daemon was split in two, sundered by the power of the dark blade. It howled, and fell from the air, landing in a heap.

“Daemon! You will set me free!”

What was left of the creature snarled in anger.

“Never, mortal!” it screamed.

With a final sweep, Jarvel destroyed the creature. The blade hissed, and turned to ash in his hand. He dropped the useless hilt, and hefted his hammer again.

The arena vanished. Now Jarvel stood in a great hall. At the end was a table, and upon the table were the heads of humans. Daemons feasted on the corpses and life essences, and undead lay in great piles, propping the table up. A great being, mummified and rotten, sat at the head of the table. His bandages were brown and grey, and his flesh, where visible, was mutilated and foetid.

At other seats were great monsters and undead champions. They feasted, and listened to their leader speak.

“...and we will leave it a charred wreck. We will burn it to the ground and devour the citizens! We will destroy its people and feast on their flesh!"(C)

The leader looked up.

“Look! Tsingisf sends us another morsel for our table! But this one is alive... Interesting... Kill it!”

“Wait, my lord... Perhaps we can find out the location of the human city from the morsel!” a huge beast said.

The master turned to the beast, and nodded. His head was precariously balanced on his neck, and looked like it could drop off at any moment.

“Yes... We will do that...” he addressed Jarvel, who walked cautiously to the table, ready to fight.

“What do you want from me, hellspawn?” Jarvel snarled angrily.

The leader replied.

14-Aug-2007 13:12:07 - Last edited on 18-Aug-2007 20:40:23 by [#CHDFOMJYA]

[#CHDFOMJYA]

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“You will speak to me respectfully, mortal, or perhaps you will join your comrades on the table! You will tell us where your city is, the city of ancient mysteries! You will tell us where the city of Arrav is!”

“Varrock?” asked Jarvel. “I will never betray my people!”

“Your people? Do you desire to return to them? I can grant that... I did not realize that you loved them so.”

The weird creature smiled. Jarvel couldn’t speak. A voice inside his head insisted that he must tell the creature where Varrock was... Where it could find the city of Arrav...

Jarvel snarled, and leapt forward, scattering the contents of the table.

Zemouregal grinned, and loose teeth dropped away.

Show me the way home...

The hammer fell, and there was a blinding light. Jarvel was tipped headlong into the brightness, and fell unconscious again. The way home... Jarvel pictured Varrock, and then realized with horror what he had done.

Zemouregal laughed, and the creatures stamped cloven hooves or waved tentacles. The gate was open. The way in was there, and they would seize the chance. Zemouregal, the lord of the dead, joined his daemonic allies. Everything was going to plan.

14-Aug-2007 13:12:48 - Last edited on 18-Aug-2007 20:37:41 by [#CHDFOMJYA]

[#CHDFOMJYA]

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Home

Jarvel awoke to the feeling of soft moss under his frame. The ground was sagging under his weight, and Jarvel recognized the texture of the earth surrounding his home, Varrock. He rose, and his head spun. The world tipped upside-down, and at first he thought that this was more daemonic trickery – But then he realized he had fallen over, when his mouth filled with damp moss. He spat it out angrily. He was sick of being a puppet – he wasn’t getting anything done, just being teleported from here to there, and finding himself unconscious every time!

He rose again, and steadied himself against a tree. Where was he now? He felt deep grooves in the bark under his gauntlet, and turned himself around to regard the tree. When he read what was written there, his gasped in joy.

’Jarvel and Miranda, Together Forever’

Ancient memories came rushing back. He and Miranda had often come here, and would spend entire days and nights in the shade of the beautiful old yew tree. It still stood, even after the two hundred years since he had last seen it.

He remembered the day he had answered the call of the wild hunt. In those days, it was tradition for the young boys, and sometimes the girls, to prove themselves by hunting down some huge beast or other. His kill had been a great boar, which he had tracked to the forests in the shade of Ice Mountain. There he had caught up with it, and carried its carcass back to his homestead. The knights of Varrock had noted his bravery and skill, and invited him to the fold, aged just fifteen.

14-Aug-2007 13:13:06 - Last edited on 02-Sep-2007 11:43:32 by [#CHDFOMJYA]

[#CHDFOMJYA]

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From there, they had taken him on a grand pilgrimage to begin his training as a hero. He was taken to the ancient monk settlement of Entrana, where he learned patience, virtue and the glory of Saradomin. He spent thirty years on the island, doing the bidding of the enlightened monks. For his great services, he was gifted with unnatural long life, given more time to do his god’s will. He would stay the same age as he was now, until he was slain or did evil towards his god. For fifty years he laboured, fighting huge beasts and aiding the weak. In that time, he did not age a day, and finally he was granted the title of Hero of the Realm. It was a fine honour, and he well deserved it at the age of ninety-five.

Following his ascension, he became a hireling sword for any master who would seek to root out the evils of the land. For over a hundred years after his knighting, he fought and killed in the name of his lord, and he had earned a great reputation. But in this time, of no aging, he had forgotten many of his childhood memories. It was a great relief to let them flood back, and he welcomed the prospect of walking the streets of Varrock again. But even from here, high on a hill about a mile from the great city, he could see things had changed. The town had become a city, and districts had soon formed. Great belching factories churned out basic guns, dangerous weapons the knights of his order shunned, despite his and others skill with them. Huge towers dominated the landscape, blotting out the sun in many places. These monstrosities were prisons, or great workhouses, or barracks for the large forces needed to keep such a city operational and relatively safe. The city was split: The old town had become a sanctum for priests, and his home and no doubt been destroyed to make way for huge temples to Saradomin.

14-Aug-2007 13:15:22 - Last edited on 02-Sep-2007 11:44:26 by [#CHDFOMJYA]

[#CHDFOMJYA]

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South of that was a huge area of shacks and broken down buildings, and Jarvel sighed sadly as he realized that that was the poor workers sector. To the north of the town, high on a manmade hill was the rich district and the palace. A great curtain wall separated it from the poorer districts, and on the inside of the wall was the great market and the temple of the five gods: A holy shrine to the divine lords, Saradomin, Guthix, Zamorak, Armadyl and Seren. It had been that way long before human knowledge of the God Wars and before their knowing of the thousands of other, minor gods. The sanctum dedicated to Zamorak was destroyed now, but the rubble still reminded the people of their ancestor’s evil worship. It was undoubtedly destroyed after the first attack by Zemouregal, and Jarvel found it ironic that he would bring news of a second attack – the dread lord he had encountered fitted the description by the ancient scrolls, and he was sure that now Zemouregal would return, great Arrav in tow, to wreak vengeance on those who had beaten him the first time.

He didn’t even have his hammer. It looked like it was lost in transition.

He sighed, and picked his way down the hill towards the city. Seeing the anarchy that now reigned, he feared that it might not be easy to persuade the rich denizens to accept Zemouregal’s second coming and make ready for war.

14-Aug-2007 13:15:23 - Last edited on 02-Sep-2007 11:44:38 by [#CHDFOMJYA]

[#CHDFOMJYA]

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Anticipation

Yren rested his halberd against the wall of the hut and stepped inside, warming himself by the fire. Guntar Ironhelm, his stocky dwarfen companion, grunted in acknowledgement and picked up his axe, leaving the warmth of the outpost to take his shift of watch. Yren hated his job, but the dwarf didn’t seem to mind. He was at home on the mountains, and seemed to love the cold as much as the warmth. The small outpost was little-visited, and the pair had to melt snow for water, chop what dead trees they could find for fuel and hunt animals for food. Yren knew the importance of the outpost, as it covered the mountain pass, gave an unparalleled view of the dark wilderness, and also allowed the men to keep watch on Varrock’s south. On a clear day, a watcher could see all the way to Falador, and the rolling fields beyond its proud towers. He swung open the guard window. He was taking the inside watch, warmed by the fire. He would sleep soon, but decided to look out at Varrock again. It was his job to keep watch, and the new mirror system was proving invaluable for keeping watch from indoors, but from the angle of the hut it couldn’t see the inside of the mountain pass, so, sadly, outside watches were still necessary. He swung the makeshift periscope around, marveling at the amazing craftsmanship the dwarf had displayed in its design. It was simple, but extraordinarily useful. He swept the viewfinder around again, taking in the dark earth of the wilderness, and the spiraling towers of Varrock. He missed the city, yet also loathed it. The anarchy that governed the lawless, poorer districts was terrible, and street gangs went unchecked, but it was still his home. The guards now never dared to leave the safety of the wall, and only a fully equipped Doom Bringer squadron was allowed on-duty entry to the sector. Not that they would be wasted sorting out street gangs, of course. There were far worse troubles that needed their elite and immediate attention.

14-Aug-2007 13:15:24 - Last edited on 02-Sep-2007 11:44:55 by [#CHDFOMJYA]

[#CHDFOMJYA]

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He pushed such worries from his mind, and slipped into sleep.

Guntar stood on the platform, turning exactly every ten minutes to face a different direction, to cover the three areas he had to keep watch on. They’d been out here for weeks, but Guntar never broke protocol. It was the dwarf way. Snow began to fall, and Guntar cursed in dwarfish. They would have to dig the hut out of the thick snow again tomorrow, he could tell, and even as he thought it, the blizzard grew stronger.

His advanced hearing picked up a skittering sound. He readied his axe, knowing full well that the sound-reducing qualities of the snow could turn the sound a huge bear padding forwards into the tiniest of noises. He faced the direction the sound was coming from and the hairs on the back of his neck pricked up. He wasn’t afraid, but excited, desiring a worthy opponent for his thirsting axe. He dropped from the platform and crept forward.

The beast took shape, appearing newborn in a pool of rapidly melting snow. More of its spawned brethren appeared nearby, and each thirsted for blood. It smelled dwarf, and licked what passed for its lips in anticipation. Almost silently, the monsters crept forward. Where the snow hit them, it hissed and turned to steam, and where their feet padded the floor the ice melted.

Guntar heard a strange hissing noise, and cautiously advanced.

The lead beast raised a talon in signal to stop, and then subtly pointed it ahead. The beasts made a clicking noise in acknowledgement, and leapt.

Guntar caught the first with his huge axe, splitting it in two. A bigger beast approached, surprised for a moment at the speed with which the dwarf had attacked. It swept its talons forward, and Guntar blocked them with ease, hewing the beast in two. He carved a path through the beasts, and they slipped and slid in an attempt to attack him. His feet, used to the mountain climates of his home, found purchase on the ice easily.

14-Aug-2007 13:15:33 - Last edited on 02-Sep-2007 11:45:17 by [#CHDFOMJYA]

[#CHDFOMJYA]

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Yren heard the noise of battle, and woke suddenly. He grabbed his sword, and swung his travelling cloak over his shoulder. He dashes outside, and gasped as he saw the dwarf slay a huge, red beast with talons and wings. It had a tapered head, covered in sharp edges, and as Yren ran forwards one of its allies headbutted the dwarf. The sharp points sank deep into Guntar, and blood spurted forward. The huge dwarf beheaded the monster in one swift stroke, and moved away. He was weakened, but still strong, and killed two more of the beasts before falling to his knees. Yren entered the fray, and two beasts descended on him. He gutted one, but the other ran him through with a long talon. He stabbed it, and it fell, and he swung his blade again, killing another monster, before he, too, fell.

The two guards lay prostrate, and the angry beasts set about them, stabbing and slashing at their flesh. The lead beast took the first bite of human and dwarf flesh, to show his dominance, then left the others to their meal. It began the ritual to tell its lord that they had succeeded.

---

Kagiso stepped into the alleyway. Above him, tattered clothing lined the gap between tall, looming buildings which appeared to lean inwards, giving the impression of ominous design. The tall, run-down buildings, perhaps housing more than one family each, made up the Sculls – The ragtag, poor district of Varrock. Kagiso knew his business was elsewhere, but he had to meet Her. She knew what was happening on the outside, and he had to speak to her, urgently.

She had once had a tent in the main square, but that had long ago been taken over. Anyway, there was always the risk of a witch hunter arriving, so it was better to keep her business in the less scrupulous areas. This was good in another way – It would give her a chance to help the women of the less well-off districts, who couldn’t go to the midwives in the Temple of Saradomin, for fear of being turned away by the border guards.

14-Aug-2007 13:20:47 - Last edited on 02-Sep-2007 11:46:53 by [#CHDFOMJYA]

[#CHDFOMJYA]

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Kagiso snarled at the idea of that. Of course, his hometown, Ardougne, was separated into a poor and rich district, but that wall was only there from the days of the plague. Now it simply showed the boundary of wealthy, and deprived, and made the affluent population feel safer in their beds at night. But the Varrock guards had taken it to a whole new level – The poor could not go beyond the southern inn, and their meager homesteads, and were allowed minimal access to the market districts just south of the square. The banks were off limits, of course, and so were the private stores, like Aubury’s Rune Shop; he was far too supercilious to allow riff-raff to ogle his expensive magical wares, and there was always the risk of one finding their way into the essence mines.

The flamboyantly dressed conman looked out of place in this sector, but he knew the image would falter and he’d soon look like the other inhabitants of the Sculls. He noted the thinning population of guards as he pushed deeper into the poor district, and with each turn he took there was less people plying their trades or begging on the streets.

Finally, he emerged at the head of a thin alley, again surrounded on both sides by ramshackle buildings. There was less light here – little penetrated the canopy of overhanging clothing and unsafe balconies. His breath quickened, and so did his pace. He was nearly there.

He rounded another corner, and now he found himself in a tiny version of the alley before. It was like the seers described the daemon worlds – Things would get smaller and smaller, until eventually a room was the size of your thumbnail and you went mad. That’s how he understood the perils a mage faced, and he wanted nothing to do with them – So it was with worry he passed a boarded-up shop bearing the slogan: “Runes for Fightin’ Runes for Killin’”. He stepped forward a little further, then felt the press of cold steel on his neck.

“Been following you since Widow’s Lane, lad.”

14-Aug-2007 13:20:48 - Last edited on 02-Sep-2007 11:47:18 by [#CHDFOMJYA]

[#CHDFOMJYA]

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Kagiso sighed. He knew this would happen – it always did. It was impossible to walk the streets of southern Varrock without being mugged or killed these days.

Figures emerged from the shadows, and Kagiso realized suddenly that they’d been there all the time. They carried shortswords or rusted blades, and he saw at least one with a huge billhook. He tried to shut out the possible punishments that weapon could mete out; it was too much to bear.

“Now, you just reach for your cash, pretty boy, and we’ll be on our way. No-one gets hurt if we get what we want, eh?”

Kagiso resignedly reached to his belt, and his hand brushed the scabbard of his sword. They hadn’t disarmed him, so they weren’t professionals. He pondered what would happen if he tried to fight, and the results didn’t look good. His hand passed over the sword and grasped his money-bag, which we unhooked and threw to the ground.

He could see four foes, and sensed another two behind him, one of which was the one holding the blade to his neck. The blade slowly withdrew, and he was kicked over roughly. The criminals laughed. He was lying on his front, and the men ran to his money bag. One of them put a foot on his back, and turned him over.

14-Aug-2007 13:20:48 - Last edited on 02-Sep-2007 11:47:51 by [#CHDFOMJYA]

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