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"All that live must die, passing through nature to eternity." - William Shakespeare.
~A Cicobe1 story
~^~Member of the Incredibly Gifted Authors~^~
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Winner of the Only One... ~~~ STORY CONTEST
.•`'`•..•`'`•..Novelist of The Novelists' Guild.•`'`•..•`'`•..
~~~~~~~~~~The Novelists’ Guild~~~~~~~~~~~
_..•’`*`’•.._/§•Second in Command•§\_..•’`*`’•.._
___..•’`*`’•..__/§•Guild Council•§\__..•’`*`’•..___
*Table of Contents*
Introduction - (Pages 0.1-0.2) - Forum page 3.
Chapter 1.1: The Death Zone - (Pages 1-6) - Forum page 3.
Chapter 1.2: The Dice of Fate Rolls - Pages (7-11) - Forum pages 3-4.
Chapter 1.3: What is your Name? - (Pages 12-16) - Forum page 4.

Chapter 2.1: Reaping - (Pages 17-21) - Forum pages 4-5.
Chapter 2.2: Of Teeth and Bones - (Pages 22-27) - Forum page 5.
Chapter 2.3: The Message - (Pages 28-32) - Forum page 6.
Chapter 2.4: Elven History - (Pages 33-43) - Forum pages 6-7.
Chapter 2.5: Escape - (Pages 44-50) - Forum pages 7-8.
Chapter 2.6: Discussion - (Pages 51-54) - Forum page 8.
Chapter 2.7: The Savior - (Pages 55-63) - Forum pages 8-9.
Chapter 2.8: Showdown at Varrock - (Pages 64-73) - Forum pages 9-10.
Chapter 2.9: The Battle of Ardougne - (Pages 74-85) - Forum pages 10-11.
Chapter 2.10: A Change of Plan - (Pages 86-91) - Forum pages 11-12.

09-Feb-2009 17:36:14 - Last edited on 11-Aug-2009 22:44:45 by Cicobe1



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*Table of Contents* - Continued.
FLASHBACK - The First Interlude.
The Mallard - (Pages 92-96) - Forum page 12.

Chapter 3.1: The Dwarves - (Pages 97-103) - Forum page 13.

09-Feb-2009 17:46:59 - Last edited on 03-Sep-2009 21:58:42 by Cicobe1



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Hi! My name is Cicobe1, and I am currently studying writing, and I hope to get a career in writing. I absolutely adore writing, and i hope to publish a nice work to be able to sell in the future. Although I may be young, (13 years old in case you're wondering) I hope to be able to write like any other author at this young age. Just to let you know, this is the first story I have ever published on the forums, so please feel free to make ANY critisism, suggestions, or compliments after I'm finished. Please note that this will be a long story, and it may take me a while to write, so please be patient while i write the story, thanks! The following is a bit of an introduction into the story.
This takes place in future update years, and although I came up with the story myself, it is based off the Postbag from the Hedge, on the article about the Grim Reaper. In this story, I thought i would make it as exciting as possible. I'm sure you've learned about 1st and 3rd point of view, but I'm attempting to make a story from the 2nd person point of view, where everything is directed toward YOU! The stories will be broken up into pages, and I want to keep this thread organized. The way this will work is:
1. Please be patient while I create the story.
2. The stories will be broken up into posts. 1 full post= 1 full page.
3. The pages will be broken up into chapters.

09-Feb-2009 17:47:08 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 18:38:04 by Cicobe1



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4. The chapters will be quite long, so please NO posting while i am making the chapters. After a chapter, you may post and comment on the chapter. I will let you post for a while, then i will tell you to stop after a while. I WILL READ EVERY SINGLE POST that you make, so please be productive! If there is a part that you love, PLEASE tell me, and i will try to continue that type of writing. Furthermore, if there is a part that you do not like, PLEASE tell me, and i will try to improve it. I will also listen to suggestions, i'm trying to make this as interactive as possible. I will try my best to listen to all the suggestions, and i will chose the best ones and may even add it to the story!
So please follow the rules i have listed above, and all forum rules apply, this includes ads! But please make your posts constructive, and try to help me make the story better. Any sort of spamming or flaming WILL NOT be accepted. Please no comments like "I hate this part..." or "This part is terrible!" PLEASE try to elaborate on what you posted. A correct example is put below.
"I didn't like this part because i thought it was too long. You should try to shorten it down, or add a bit more detail here and there."
Please follow this type of outline. Next, i am going to make a prelude to the story below.

09-Feb-2009 17:47:09 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 18:38:43 by Cicobe1



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This story is based off the Postbag from the Hedge, as said before. The story takes place in future years, where Jagex has updated the game. It is much different, and a new skill has been added. The skill is called Reaping, and is a complicated skill that will be explained and make more sense throughout the course of the story. There are many different details to the skill, but it really only becomes exciting after level 99, which is when the adventure really begins. At the beginning of the story, I tell about the skill a bit, but over time, it evolves into the story. Right now, the character is a regular player. The only exception is that he has mastered the Reaping skill, with a skill of 99. The story tells of his introduction into the Death Zone for the first time. When he goes there and decides to have some fun, he learns that he can't refuse going back. He goes on an adventure to explore the Death Zone, and hopes to close it down to secure the safety of the players of Runescape. He hopes to be able to explore the world, and decides that he has some work to do while he's there. He discovers a dark secret, and that's where the story really begins. Please enjoy the story! :)

09-Feb-2009 17:47:10 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 18:39:38 by Cicobe1



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Endorsed threads:
49-50-107-59681858 -- Leaderofblob's "Tale of the Warrior".
Read this great adventurous tale by a long-term reader of my story, Leaderofblob. If you want fascination, you've come to the right place with his story!
If you want to have your thread endorsed, I ask for but a small thing in return. In exchange for your thread being endorsed on this thread, I ask that you have read my full story.
If you've read my story, you must prove to me that you've read it by answering the following story questions on page 2.

09-Feb-2009 17:47:19 - Last edited on 07-Oct-2009 23:36:28 by Cicobe1



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<Start copy/pasting here>

----Story Questions----

Note: These questions are only for those who wish to have their thread endorsed on my thread. Please don't fill it out if you don't.

These answers may contain spoilers. As the reader, you read the answers at your own risk.

1. What is the "gift" mentioned in the introduction?

2. What exactly is The Death Zone?

3. Why is the second sub-chapter called "The Dice of Fate Rolls?"

4. What do "you" symbolize in the story? Hint: Chapter 1.3: What is your Name? Provides the answer.

5. What genre would you consider Chapter 2.1: Reaping? It is quite obvious if you've fully read it.

6. Chapter 2.2 is called "Of Teeth and Bones." Why is it named this way? What/who do the "teeth" represent? What/who do the "bones" represent?

7. What is "The Message" mentioned in Chapter 2.3: The Message?

8. What is Cëril's secret in Chapter 2.4: Elven History?

9. Why do they attempt to escape in Chapter 2.5: Escape? Do they manage to get away?

10. What are the two other continents in Runescape besides Gielinor?

11. Who is "The Savior?" How did he/she earn this title?

12. What does Cëril do to avoid being paralyzed?

13. What do the yellow eyes of the zombie represent?

14. What does the mallard symbolize in the first interlude?

<End copy/pasting here>

Thank you for taking the time to answer these questions; I will look at them once posted.

09-Feb-2009 17:47:21 - Last edited on 10-Mar-2009 21:09:16 by Cicobe1



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*Fans List*

1. Jxac

2. Squarcle

3. Cocokelan

4. Neopea1628

5. Farlassi

6. Frod Hound

7. Elementsky21

8. Jamespatter3

9. Lvl 3 Uh Oh

10. Englishkid62

11. Einstein9001

12. Mightybeak

13. Moneyme25

14. Alex99116

15. Parakarry267

16. Prored

17. Belladora001

18. Skiller14017

19. Hjk797

20. Ol One Tooth

21. Ranger1105

22. 690254030

23. Oss Spy

24. K1llin Tr33s

25. Cund8

26. Blobthe14

09-Feb-2009 17:47:22 - Last edited on 06-Aug-2009 00:57:12 by Cicobe1



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While it does seem quite distant, we are at 98 story posts right now. I've only gotten a bit into the story, yet we are doing fantastic.

The reason for this post is to explain something. The longest story on the forums right now is called "Black Winds," and is a great read. It is at 240 total story posts, and believe it or not, we're already over 1/3 of the way to being the longest story on Runescape!

I am going to make a bar below to show our progress, hopefully this will be an everyday thing that I can stick by. I rounded off to 41, and did some math proportional-wise, to find out the percentage out of 100. We were over 1/3 of the way, or 43%.

Rounded off to 43%, there are 100 dashes below, and the lines represent our progress. Exactly 43/100 are placed below, and while it seems distant, we're already on our way. We can do it!

*Progress Bar*


09-Feb-2009 17:48:09 - Last edited on 03-Sep-2009 23:52:19 by Cicobe1



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09-Feb-2009 17:55:35 - Last edited on 11-Mar-2009 21:23:55 by Cicobe1



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"Death. That's the word that echoes throughout my mind as I made this story. Wait, no, that's not the proper introduction! Sorry, I’m trying to overcome my evil self."


"Stop! I have to make a proper introduction to these readers!"

"You can't stop me!"

"Yes I can!"



"You will obey my command, stop trying to rebel you sweaty meat puppet. You pungent waste of skin, you don't deserve to receive the gift."


"Kids like you don't deserve to learn about the gift."

"Please, do tell!"

"Then I shall, since it interests you so. Never before in the history of the game of Runescape has such an update come. Summoning? No big deal. Grand Exchange? Nothing! PvP worlds? Not even close! This kind of update is like no other, it is a skill like nothing else. This kind of skill deserves no humans to be introduced into the art. Please, don't make me explain this dreaded skill any further. This kind of skill will bring misery and woe to the world of Gielnor, like none you shall ever see."

"I don't need your help, I’ll find out myself!"

"You fool! You can't do this!"

"Ah, but I can!"

"No, please!"


"I refuse! I will kill you, silence you at long last! Thou shall be silenced! I'm tired of hearing you, tired of the misery, tired of everything! I can't stand it! Leave peacefully, before I have to use force."

"I shall never leave. So long as you have a soul inside you, I shall always be a part of you. You may silence me, but you shall never, never get rid of me. We shall be together for all eternity!"

"I have to.."




09-Feb-2009 17:55:36 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 18:43:42 by Cicobe1



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"Writing the story..."

"You shall not publish the works of the gift!"

"I shall, and I will! Now, you shall banish!"



"At long last, you have been silenced. Finally, all those wretched years of torture and woe have come to a beautiful and long-awaited end! You shall no longer make me live in terror! I shall write this story, and I shall do it well. I will continue my research across Runescape!"


09-Feb-2009 17:55:37 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 18:44:19 by Cicobe1



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Chapter 1.1: The Death Zone

Page 1:

At level 1, you get a stick. Level 10 you're rewarded with a rope to strangle. Level 25 you're rewarded with a noose. Level 40 you get a machete. Level 55 with level 75 crafting you can make gallows. Level 65 you get a scythe to reap people. At level 75 you get a sandpaper bag to smother. Level 85 is a guillotine that you can trap people in. Finally at level 95 you get a Grim Reaper mask and clothes, showing that you are nearly a prized Runescape reaper. At level 99 you get a skillcape. It shows a skull and cross-bones on the back, and the emote is that you dress up like the reaper, and a dummy is put in front of you. You hold the scythe and slice its head off!! This is no ordinary skillcape however. Once you get level 99 Reaping, you get the Reaper's Scythe as well, which can teleport you into the Death Zone.

It looks just like normal Runescape, except with a much darker tone. The vampire's teeth are sharper, the zombie's skin is even more rotten, and werewolves’ eyes are bloodshot. You look to the right, and the Lumbridge fountains are now spraying blood. The remnants of ancient Gielnor inhabitants now roam the area, looking for fresh new bodies to consume. The Runescape players are much darker, even gray. When they are killed, their soul is released.

The soul looks a lot like a revenant, but is in the form of a Runescape player. The ghost looks your way, and starts to fly the other way. Your robes bustle in the wind, and the scythe shines with the blood of those lives' lost. You get ready for yet another reaping, and smell the horrid stench of those dead bodies around you.

The ghost has nearly made it to the edge of Al Kharid, floating through the fence. You immediately fly through the air, your cloak flying through the air. Your albino-white bone legs are barely visible underneath the black robe's covering.

09-Feb-2009 17:55:38 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 18:44:50 by Cicobe1



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Page 2:

Wind is rushing though your eye sockets, and you are getting excited as you finally have the ghost in your sight, near the Al Kharid palace, as you get ready for the reaping.

The ghost appears before you, looking helpless and pleading for mercy. Its bright yellow eyes are helpless under the cold, hard stare of your empty eye sockets. The Scythe acts as a magnet does, pulling you even closer to the poor defenseless creature.

The creature stares hard at you, with eyes as blank as the pale morning sun. The creature's pleading amuses you, and you decide to torture it little by little. With the Reaping skillcape, your heart is lost, disappearing into the shadows of the tremendously dark Death Zone.

Your feelings, sensibility, emotions, and determination are all gone. You pull the Scythe, and hear the grinding of the sharp object against your rock-hard bone. You raise your hands in the air, with the barren sun shining down and creating a glare on the shard edged weapon.

The killing device approaches the poor creature, eventually touching its skin. The creature howls, screaming as does a banshee. You hold the scythe to its leg, and it howls as it does before. The misery and woe put into the poor creature is endless, and an endless horizon of torture reflects on its eyes upon yours.

Your empty eye sockets stare lifelessly at the creature, feeling the powerful surge of tyranny flowing through your lifeless body. A quick jerk back yanks the scythe back behind your head, as you prepare for the attack. You fling the scythe forward, and the cold, harsh metal touches the ghostly material of the ghost's tail.

The tail is sliced off, creating an oblivion of smoke surrounding its outline. The creature howls in misery, releasing a scream like you've never heard before. The unbelievable volume of the ghost amuses you, and you decide to torture the poor thing even more.

09-Feb-2009 17:55:39 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 18:45:18 by Cicobe1



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Page 3:

A quick slice across the creature's arm does the trick, as another cloud of smoke forms around the area. A green liquid substance forms around your barren feet. The ectoplasm starts to fill the area, as the ghost releases a scream as you've never heard before.

The creature is stripped of all dignity, feeling a surge of pain in its ghostly body. You are driven by madness, nothing, absolutely nothing will stop you from destroying it!

You slice here and there, the bright Al Kharid sun glimmering on the ectoplasm of the scythe. Flames appear in your eyes, protruding out of the eye sockets. The madness is coursing through your bones, and the entire sand becomes enflamed. Fire spreads everywhere, spreading all the way across the horizon and beyond. You continue your rampage, and prepare for the final blow against the poor creature.

The blow cuts across its neck, and the remaining parts of the ghost fade away. You say your prayer, as if coming out of your mouth automatically. The clatter of your teeth is maddening, as you finish up by saying, “For whom the bell tolls!"

You release a shriek like never before, echoing throughout the Death Zone. You see an opening in the cloudy sky, releasing rays of sunshine along your robes. The rustle of the wind begins to pick up, and the hole in the clouds becomes bigger. A sudden green light rains upon the area of the ghost, and you step in. The ray of light brings you up and away into the daytime sky. You trail upwards and away, the city of Al Kharid becoming a speck in the entire continent of Gielnor. You see Morytania, The Wilderness, and many oceans on your way up.

Everything becomes dark, and clouds start to form around you. They swirl as does a tornado and you start to spin along, synchronizing with the speed and rhythm of the tornado. You are launched up and away, and everything becomes a pitch black. There is no other way to describe it, besides the one word that comes to mind. Darkness.

09-Feb-2009 17:55:39 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 18:45:38 by Cicobe1



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Page 4:

The thought echoes through your head, and suddenly, a ray of sunshine punctures the darkness. More rays start to break the darkness, and before you know it, the entire ball of smoke explodes. You fall to the earth below, coming closer and closer to your home world of Runescape.

Finally, you crash to the ground, alarmed to see that everything is in color, and back to its normal state. You look at your skin, and the muscle and skin is back. Everything is finally back to normal, despite the fact that you still have the scythe in your hand. You walk up the dusty stairs in Lumbridge Castle, and climb up the winding staircase to arrive in Lumbridge Bank.

You speak to the banker, and she opens up your bank account. You decide to deposit the scythe, waiting for yet another day to do your debts as a reaper. You climb back down the way you came, and walk outside. You see others fighting goblins and other men, seeing that everything is back to normal. You take a look inside the church, and see an altar with the sign of Saradomin encrypted in the middle.

You walk over to the altar, examining the candles and delicate cloth that resides over the hard, oak table. You brush your hand along the rough edges of the altar, examining its fine, sturdy build. You bend down on your knees, and face the altar, looking up to see a large ray of sunshine coming down from the church window. The glare shines upon your eyes, releasing a glitter like never before.

You start to speak, realizing that the Gods are now present. "Oh Saradomin! Thou art my God! I shall never betray you, nor shall I have any relations with thou life time enemy, Zamorak. The land of Darkness should now be forbidden, I have trespassed into the land of the Dead! Let that wretched abyss be ignored by others, and let them live a peaceful life. The Death Zone is a dark land, and should never be explored. Let it remain as one of the unspoken and unexplored areas of the world. Saradomin hear my prayer!"

09-Feb-2009 17:55:40 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 18:45:57 by Cicobe1



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Page 5:

You stand up, and see the young warriors experimenting their newly learned skills in battle, inflicting blow after blow on spiders and goblins. You walk out of the church, walking across the long bridge to the other side, feeling nostalgia as you walk near the guarded gate. You examine the warrior, experimenting his skills in battle. He whips out his crude bronze sword, the golden hilt becoming a sideways glance.

You give him your full attention, and he continues to fight as he had. He slashed this way and that, dodging any oncoming blows by goblins. Quick as lightning, he whips out a bow and arrow, and deposits the sword and shield in his inventory. He starts to rapidly fire, looking a bit nervous. You observe that he is obviously not skilled in the art of range. He wildly flings the arrows at the goblins, but he was quite a bit off. He takes out two rune stones, one appeared to be an air rune, and you are just able to make out the symbol on the mind rune. He smashes the two together, forming a ball of energy in his hand. The runes crumble to the floor, as he starts to revolve the swirling air ball in his hands. He thrusts his hands out, and the swirling air mass collides with the goblin, sending the creature tumbling over, smashing his head against a house. His head lolls to the side, and it finally falls forward. He bends his head over, and the warrior walked over to affirm that he is unconscious. He approved so, and looted the goblin of a few coins and his chain mail.

He attempts to put on the goblin mail, but it clearly didn't fit. You remember the old days, when you tried to put on a goblin mail. You can tell that he is not experienced here on Runescape. He immediately goes after the next goblin, not even healing himself. You smile at his foolish ways, and notice that he is going to collapse anytime soon. The goblin strikes him, and he doubles over, his eyes rolling back in his head. His soul jumps out of him quickly, and floats to the sky beyond.

09-Feb-2009 17:55:41 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 18:46:15 by Cicobe1



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Page 6:

You start to feel the urge to reap him, but decide that you put those ways behind you. You decide to drop the skill, and accept yourself as a Saradomin follower. You smile, and walk into the horizon, cleaned of your former sins. Or so you thought...


09-Feb-2009 17:59:29 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 18:46:39 by Cicobe1



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Chapter 1.2: The Dice of Fate Rolls

Page 7:

You walk out into the city of Lumbridge, observing the bright sunshine shining upon the magnificent castle. Across from you are the fountains of Lumbridge, spraying water into the air like a magnificent geyser. You see people talking, discussing many aspects of the world. They talk about trades and the Grand Exchange, and you can’t help but listen in on it. “Can you help me?” asked a level 24 player, walking up to a level 109.

“What do you need?”

“How do you do the Reaping skill?"

The level 109 started to instruct him step by step on what the skill was about, and you start to wonder. You think to yourself, “I should be doing that right now. No! What am I thinking? I must…. No! What is wrong with me?! Please… Oh Saradomin! Help me!”

A deep voice echoed inside your head, with a dark, raspy tone to it. “You fool, stop yelling. Can’t you see that everyone is looking at you?”

“What the… Who are you?”

“That’s not important right now. Stop yelling, calm your nerves, and relax. Never, and I mean never say the name you said before in my presence.”

“What name? You mean Saradomin?” you ask.

“Silence! Don’t say that name you fool! That wretched, poor excuse for a god is my mortal enemy!”

“But then… That must mean… Oh no, oh Saradomin no!"

"Stop! Don’t repeat that word in my presence or I’ll kill you!”

“But… Who are you?”

“You still haven’t figured it out have you?”

“I have an idea, but… No... You can’t be…”

“Ah, but I am.”

“You mean…”


“You’re Zam…”

“Say it…”


“Say it!!”

“Zamorak! Get out of my head! I have no affliction with your evil ways! Saradomin is my true lord!”

At that, Zamorak thundered inside your head, and a massive headache struck you like never before. You fall to the ground on your knees, and your knees bust open from the impact of the rocky stone floor. The blood spills around your legs, and leaks out upon the cold, stone floor.

09-Feb-2009 17:59:30 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 18:47:21 by Cicobe1



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Page 8:

You clasp your hands to your head, and start pulling at your hair violently. You let out a blood- curdling scream, and everyone in the area looks to your direction. You start to breathe heavily, as if you had a sudden lung closure. You gasp for air, your arms helplessly and desperately flailing in the air like snakes.

Your eyes roll back in your head, and you start to shake violently. You start to foam out of your mouth, and the messy heap of your body starts to curl up into a ball.
You start to shut down, everything becoming a blur before your eyes. Your skin becomes pale white, and you start to roll on the floor. You let out one final scream, your eyes close, and you fall into darkness.

After a long while, you seemingly wake up, except everything feels different. You seem much lighter, and you realize that you are flying! You are flying in the cloudy, misty sky, soaring about twenty feet above the ground of Lumbridge. No trace of your body is found, and you hear a voice whisper in your head. It says, "I told you not to say that name!”

“It was you! What did you d-do to me? Am I dead?”

“No, you are merely unconscious. I have ripped open the Shell of Dreams.”

“The Shell of Dreams?”

“I suppose you mortals haven’t heard of it yet. While I’m at it, I might as well tell you the whole story. Here it goes: I suppose that you humans have heard and slain dragons before, yes? Well, those are simply pawns in the midst of many rooks and knights.

Above those are the Dragonkin, my loyal supporters. Through my complicated system of infantry, I have heard that you seem to be a master of that Reaping skill. When you wielded that Reaper’s Scythe, you don’t just get into the Death Zone by magic. It has to have some sort of source, and that source is usually provided by my Dragonkin.

However, I have watched you over the years, seemingly representing Saradomin. However, if there is one thing I know, it’s that I know a Zamorak follower when I see one.

09-Feb-2009 17:59:31 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 18:47:58 by Cicobe1



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Page 9:

Deep inside, although you might not want to admit it, is a pleading voice that wants to worship me, something that screams out inside you, but you silence it every time. There is evil in everything, including you. The mass part of evil inside of you is tremendous.

The Gods have many special powers, and their powers may differ. One of my favorites however, is the mind penetrating power. I am able to penetrate the security of one’s mind, by going into the form of a spirit, invisible to everyone else. Some people’s minds are harder to penetrate than others, and this is based on numerous factors.

The main two factors would be your Defense level, as well as your intelligence factor, or as you mortals call it, your IQ. Your penetration was quite a burden, as you are quite a fighter, yet very intelligent. Once inside however, I was in your thoughts. The interior of your brain isn’t quite as you picture it. While you humans look at it scientifically, we go in as spirits, making everything much more complicated.

Your mind is made up of many things, including passions, interests, personality, thoughts, feelings, and dreams. Each one is heavily guarded by a sort of forcefield. Getting access into these kinds of chambers is extremely difficult, even in the form of a God. I happened to stumble upon your Chamber of Dreams, and it was no easy task getting inside.

I needed power sources from all over Gielnor! You see, each time a living being dies on Gielnor, although they are revived safely, a small bit of energy is taken each time. This should have no effect on that living being however, since the amount is so minute. However, getting the energy from every single dying creature all over Gielnor was the only way to do it.

I put a great amount of effort into doing so, and penetrated the Shell of Dreams, therefore granting me access into the comforts of your mind. There is much darkness inside you, beyond anything you could imagine!

09-Feb-2009 17:59:31 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 18:49:30 by Cicobe1



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Page 10:

I powered you into the Death Zone, and you were transformed into the likes of something you could never imagine. I made you a Reaper, and I powered you with darkness! However, I didn't put that much effort into the energy transfer.

Believe it or not, the rest of that power and feeling of destruction was YOU! You have a dark side, whether you want to admit it or not. Now, I have taken you into your dreams and memories. You’ll notice this place looks familiar. Take a closer look… That’s right, it's the Death Zone! That black speck down there is you in your cloak! Look at you, you’re a monster! You chased that poor defenseless soul into Al Kharid, and here comes my favorite part.

You start to torture it little by little, and that is a good sign. This flashback is good for you to see, because this is what you look like. Perhaps now you see that there is some darkness inside of you!”

“That can’t be me… Is it?” You ask.

“That is,” said Zamorak.

“I can’t believe it… I look like a monster!”

“Yes, which is why I have a question to ask. I see a lot of potential in you, and you have all the makings of being one of my loyal trustees. This is an offer that you cannot refuse!” screamed Zamorak.

“No! I will never join you!”

“Ah, I expected that. You can continue your argument about how you are a loyal Sara… Saradom… Saradomin follower later. Oh, how I despise that name… I have come prepared for this, and I have much to offer. I will grant you power beyond your wildest dreams, more than anything you’ve ever seen! You will be the ultimate Reaper, unlike anything the world of Gielnor has ever seen! Can you accept my offer, and become one of the most feared and powerful beings ever to roam Gielnor?”

“I stick to my earlier decision,” you reply.

“Then it is time to rely on my last resort. I tried to ask nicely, but I’m afraid that it is time to get serious.

09-Feb-2009 17:59:32 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 18:48:48 by Cicobe1



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Page 11:

If you do not accept my offer, I will not only kill your body, but I will send it into my realm, to be forever tortured for all of eternity! So make your decision. Will you roam the land like no other has, or will you be sent to my realm, for an eternity of suffering?”

“I… I…”

“No need to stutter, just make your answer,” said Zamorak.
A long period of silence occurred between the both of you, as you thought of an answer. After much thinking and inner debate, you at last came to your answer.

“So, have you come to a decision?” asked Zamorak.

“I have,” you replied.

“Then speak now, or forever hold your peace,” said Zamorak.


“Just remember, this is your final decision. Once you say your answer, there is no turning back. Do you agree to these terms?” asked Zamorak.

“I do,” you reply.

“Then let thou decision be heard! Speak, and do tell me your answer,” said Zamorak.

“After much thought, consideration, and inner debate, I have come to a decision. My final answer is…”


09-Feb-2009 17:59:33 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 18:49:14 by Cicobe1



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Chapter 1.3: What is your Name?

Page 12:

“Then let thou decision be heard! Speak, and do tell me your answer,” said Zamorak.

“After much thought, consideration, and inner debate, I have come to a decision. My final answer is… I will accept your offer."

“A wise decision,” said Zamorak.

“Being alive at all is a gift, and I refuse to have that gift taken away from me. No matter how much grief this causes me, I’ll always remember that living is a gift. What exactly is the role you’re going to give me?” you ask.

“Ah, already getting started eh? Well, since you are so curious, I am going to give you one of my most trusted weapons. It is a scythe like no other, with power coursing through its blade. Your role will to do my bidding, and reap the souls of others.”

“So basically what I did in the Death Zone?”

“Yes, you will be going there quite often now," said Zamorak.

“And what of Sara… Your mortal enemy?” you ask.

“What of him?”

“Well, I was his loyal follower, and I can’t just leave him. I made an oath that I would never go back to that land, and that I will try to help close it off forever.”

“You should not have made that oath! My mortal enemy takes oaths extremely seriously! Any sort of oath swore to Saradomin must be held! What have you done?!” Zamorak bellowed.

“I’m… I’m sorry! I did not know that it would turn out to be this way!”

“This is simply unacceptable! What are we to do now? Surely Saradomin will hear of this eventually!”

“Perhaps that is our goal. We must prevent Saradomin from knowing,” you say.

“Yes, that might work. We must avoid going into any sacred lands of Saradomin!”

“I understand,” you respond.

“As long as that happens, everything should be fine. I will send you back to your body, and you will begin your job. You will notice that on the highest point in Lumbridge the weapon will be placed. You must grab your original Reaper’s Scythe and go to the Death Zone, and it will be waiting for you there. Good luck.”

09-Feb-2009 17:59:34 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 18:50:33 by Cicobe1



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Page 13:

With that, you feel a sudden tug on yourself, and you start to plummet towards the ground. The wind rustles through your hair, and you have to squint to be able to keep your eyes open. You start to come closer to the ground, the fields of Lumbridge becoming closer and closer. Then, you hit the ground, and everything starts to spin.

You start to loll your head back, and you realize that you have lost control of all your limbs. You notice that you can still move your head, and you look up to see that your feet are disappearing into a mist of thin smoke. They fade away, and the rest of your legs follow.

Your entire torso and chest have now dissolved into the grayish sky, and by the time it reaches your eyes, everything becomes dark.

You awake to see that you are back in Lumbridge, and you stand up, feeling no pain whatsoever. You climb the route up to the Lumbridge bank, and after a quick conversation with the banker, open up your bank account. You search and find the Reaper’s Scythe, and wield it.

The cold metal of the blade reflects upon your ghastly face, and you start to get pulled into a green vortex. You fly upwards into the sky at lightning speed, and you become a dark silhouette in the sky. Everything becomes black, and the darkness shreds into pieces and you find yourself in the darkness and gloom of the Death Zone.

You figure that the highest point in Lumbridge would be on the Lumbridge castle, so you climb up the steep steps, all the way to the bank. On the outer reaches of the small room, you find a ladder and climb it. Where the tall flagpole usually is, casting a giant shadow over the city of Lumbridge is a medium size scythe, with an odd look to it.

The handle branched out as usual into the scythe, but something was different. The metal appeared much sharper, the wood much sturdier, and everything seemed like an entire new version. You hear a familiar voice echo in your head, “I see you have found the scythe.”

09-Feb-2009 17:59:35 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 18:51:01 by Cicobe1



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Page 14:

“I have.”

“Well, you should know that the weapon is called the Death Scythe, and it possesses power that other scythes don’t. This type of scythe grants you the ability of flight, and obviously the ability to reap victims with ease. You may experience a bit of anger while holding it and the only way to adjust to that is through time. Please, grab the scythe and become adjusted to it,” said Zamorak.

You grab the scythe, and the second you touch the strong handle, power courses into your hand. The immediate contact rushes energy and adrenaline into your veins, coursing throughout the complex build of your body. Your skin starts to burn into flames, and the fire spreads out across your body.

You become a swirling inferno, and the entire layer of skin is burned off. You see the innards of your body, and the muscles start to stretch as you lift your hand. The tendons and red muscle work as clockwork, and cause a gigantic chain reaction for the simple movement of lifting your arm.

You feel like a little kid, exploring the range of movements your body can do for the first time. You see your reddish heart beating, with soft thumps every second. The veins are tightly wrapped around it, and you look near it, to see your lungs. Your lungs are small sacks, becoming inflated every couple of seconds.

They branch into a small tube, and travel upwards into your face. You notice the innards of your stomach, as well as the small intestine. You find the whole experience to be quite grotesque, and you start to sicken. Eventually, a wave of fire bursts out, burning off the remainder of your body.

You become all bone, and see the strong build of your entire skeletal system. Suddenly, a blue spark appears around your feet, and it engulfs the entire figure of your skeletons. It becomes a raging swirl of inferno, and it eventually bursts out into small blasts of energy heading for the horizon and beyond.

09-Feb-2009 18:04:10 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 18:51:36 by Cicobe1



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Page 15:

You look down, and see that black robes were put on you, fitting almost perfectly. The only part of you that is visible is the dark shadow of your skull that is barely visible under the shadow of your hood. Again, a voice echoes throughout the hollow insides of your skull, yet you find that the audibility of the voice increased. The voice of Zamorak spoke and said, “I see that the transformation has been complete.”

“You at least could have warned me about it!"

“Ah, but that would spoil my fun wouldn't it? As long as you are in the Death Zone, your current form will be kept. When you transfer to the world of Gielnor, you will return to your original body. There is one concern of mine however, although it may be minor.

I would like to speak of your name. I would not know what to call you by! I would not call you human, as that would be too general, and that would obviously be incorrect at the moment. I clearly named my guards Dragonkin, so I must create a name for you. Do you have any suggestions?”

A long silence occurred between you and Zamorak, as you considered a name for yourself. At long last, an idea screamed in your head what you thought would be the perfect name. You then speak and say, “I do believe I have come up with the perfect name.”

“Then please, do tell!” Zamorak responded.

“Well, this is clearly a very sad and gloomy place; the only challenge was coming up with a synonym with those words. At last I found the synonym, the perfect word that fits in the gap that needs to be filled. The word was so simple, yet so evasive.

At long last, I know the word. Since I am going to be reaping souls from now on, I am obviously a reaper. As I said before, the only challenge was finding the synonym. I decided to combine the two words, and found the perfect name for myself."

"Then please, stop our chattering and let you speak! Please, without further hesitation, do tell me the name that you have been thinking about so diligently!

09-Feb-2009 18:04:11 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 18:52:11 by Cicobe1



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Page 16:

Are you sure that you have made a name respectable enough for your new figure? You have an extremely high authority, so a name has to be respectable,” said Zamorak.

“No need to worry, every single requirement has been met,” you responded.

“Then please do tell, what is your name?” Zamorak asked.

“The Grim Reaper.”



09-Feb-2009 18:04:12 - Last edited on 10-Mar-2009 20:52:53 by Cicobe1



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Chapter 2.1: Reaping

Page 17:

“The Grim Reaper.”

“The Grim Reaper… Yes… I could see that happening. Now that we have your name set, you should start your job. There is a young adventurer in Draynor who waltzed into the Draynor Manor and was killed by some of the live trees. Perhaps you should put an end to his misery, yes?”

“I shall,” you reply.

“Then off you go!”

You grasp your scythe tightly, and you start to rise upwards into the night sky. You drift up into the clouds, and you see a mist of clouds in front of you, the sun penetrating the big fluffs that hang in the sky. The grayish form of the clouds becomes eye level, and you maneuver yourself so you are hovering parallel to the clouds, horizontally facing the horizon.

You jab the scythe forward, and you propel yourself through the clouds. The misty, cloudy view starts to fade away, as traces of the clouds hover behind you. You fly through the air swiftly, and you look down to see the remnants of former living creatures. You fly toward the city of Draynor, looking over at the giant spinning windmill on the road. You start to descend towards the ground, the ground becoming closer and closer to your view.

You stop yourself right before you hit the ground, but are quick to force yourself forward like a rocket, flaring your way past the many fields of wheat. You fly overhead, and see a dark green goblin, looking up just in time to see you. The goblin didn't look as normal as it did in Gielnor however.

The red eyes in the mist punctured through the darkness, making an eerie feel to the environment. The darkness is unbearable near Draynor Manor, as you approach closer and closer to the manor’s old doors. You approach the door, everything pitch black around you.

A mist forms around the horizon, making the entire radius of the area dark grey. You try to squint through the mist, but it is simply too strong. The normal dark gloomy feel of the manor is practically thrice that here in the Death Zone.

09-Feb-2009 18:04:12 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 18:53:43 by Cicobe1



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Page 18:

The normal, eerie feel near the manor is nothing compared to the same area in the Death Zone.
You feel your robes start to move with the wind, as you approach the doors. You try to push your way in, yet the door doesn’t budge.

You push harder, yet with no prevail. At long last, you give up trying and resort to force. You lift your scythe upwards over your head, and you feel the fire in your eyes again. You slash forward, slicing the door in half, leaving splinters flying through the air towards the tree.

The remaining splinters found their ways into the ground or in the tree trunks nearby, and you continue your way in. You notice the paintings on your right- hand side, and see the pastel design etched into the picture. You decide that they were probably one of the many owners of the mansion.

You look at the empty, black staircase with hallow eye sockets, observing the cobwebs that made their way across the banisters. The complicated design of the cobwebs seemed to make their way into every nook and cranny in the entire complex design of the crude staircase.

The peeling paint on the walls revealed many different beams for support, many rusty and broken from the amount of time spent there. You still make your way throughout the manor, observing every single detail as you go along, making sure that nothing gets by you.

You make your way into the hallways, yet find nothing. You start to get annoyed, and retrace your steps to the old staircase. You place your bony foot on the staircase, and hear a loud creaking sound.

You stepped again to another step, and the same sound occurred. The same process continued until you made it to the top step, and looked around to see an old room, with a brown and dusty wooden floor, with spiders and rats littered around the area.

The area smelled of death, and the awkward smell lingered around the long abandoned room. You still felt the eminence of absence, but still continued to rummage throughout the room.

09-Feb-2009 18:04:13 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 18:54:09 by Cicobe1



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Page 19:

The soul was nowhere to be found, so you climb down the creaky old staircase to arrive at the hallways. You walked through the hallways, and find yet another staircase, adding to the complex build of the entire manor. You climb down the staircase, to see rocks littered around the floor, and candles set up as if to worship something.

In the middle of the room stood a lone coffin that seemed to have not been opened for decades. The dust covered the entire first layer of the coffin, and you still felt life throughout the area. You felt that there was something there, living yet dead at the same time.

Slow breathing echoed through the room, just audible in the area. It seemed to be coming from the coffin. You slowly lumber yourself to the coffin, looking at the odd etchings designed into the exterior of the coffin’s door.

You examine the designs, but don’t seem to interpret the language. You grasp the edge of the coffin, and think for a moment, about whether to open it or not. In an inner debate, something screamed out to not open the coffin, for something dark and evil was lurking inside.

At long last, you decide to tug your arms upwards, and lift the cover off the coffin. The cover was heavier than you thought, but without glancing at the inside of the coffin, you place the cover down near your pitch black robes.

Even in your Reaping form, you still feel some kind of heart, some kind of conscience that is persuading you to not look inside the coffin. Even in this form, you still feel your emotions, the pulsing heart that is loud enough to hear throughout the room.

Fear. That was the only word to describe the situation. Thoughts spread around your mind, setting a tone of mayhem throughout the innards of your skull. At long last, you decide to look into the coffin. Expecting to see something leap out at you, you were instead greeted to the sight of a long maze. It seemed almost like a labyrinth, with twisting turns and dead ends.

09-Feb-2009 18:04:14 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 18:54:29 by Cicobe1



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Page 20:

You climb down into the dark maze, looking at your surroundings. Suddenly, a loud BOOM echoed throughout the room, and the startling noise forced your head to turn in its direction. You look up, and see that the cover of the coffin is now on top of the coffin!

“How is that possible? I know that I placed the coffin lid on the ground! How did it get up on top of the coffin again?” you think to yourself.

With a nervous approach you walk your way throughout the maze, expecting to see some kind of monster leap out at you at every single turn. The walls were made of solid concrete, and the ground was littered with dead rats and other vermin.

Everything was silent, until you made it toward one of the dead ends. On the wall of one of the dead ends was a soul of a former human, hung onto the wall with chains. His chains were linked to the walls, all connecting to his limbs.

His head was hung down, avoiding your gaze. You approach him with caution, and wonder if this was the soul that Zamorak was talking about. You come closer, and observe the beautiful and majestic view of a soul. The soul was in the exact form of a human, except the skin, muscle, and bone were replaced with a ghostly pale white, nearly mist. While the outer appearance was quite a sight, the view of seeing it chained to a wall was disgusting.

You approach the soul, and it didn't meet your eyes. It kept its head down, as if it were ashamed. You stood practically right in front of it, and still it did not move.

You lift its head up, and see that the face was completely torn apart, filled with deep scars that trailed all the way down to its neck, where the worst part was yet to be seen. On its neck were two large slashes, almost bite marks, which sank into the soul’s ghostly figure.

The two slashes almost seemed to be formed from two teeth, and this appeared to be very familiar. You were interrupted in your thoughts by a loud, piercing scream.

09-Feb-2009 18:04:16 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 18:54:48 by Cicobe1



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Page 21:

“No!! Please! Oh Saradomin no! Please!! Please, oh please no!! I can’t… No!"

The voice sounded human, yet a bit ghostly. The echoes of the voice were cut off however, when you heard a loud hiss. The being screamed once more, then silence. You approach the site of horror, coming closer and closer. The closer you got the more screams you heard.

You heard tortured souls of all kinds, and all races were struggling. Souls of orks, giants, goblins, humans, dwarves, and elves were all screaming in the midst of a hellhole.

You approach the site, and you manage to see a giant door, that if pushed, would lead into the source of the screaming. Your heart raced like never before, never ceasing to relinquish fear throughout your body. After much inner pressure, you decide to push the door open, revealing a sight that you will regret for the rest of your life.


09-Feb-2009 18:04:16 - Last edited on 10-Mar-2009 20:54:08 by Cicobe1



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Chapter 2.2: Of Teeth and Bones

Page 22:

You approach the site, and you manage to see a giant door, that if pushed, would lead into the source of the screaming. Your heart raced like never before, never ceasing to relinquish fear throughout your body. After much inner pressure, you decide to push the door open, revealing a sight that you will regret for the rest of your life.

When you opened the doors, you looked inside, and saw a large room, with solid concrete grey walls, with chains and other metallic objects scattered around the room. The floor was the same as the labyrinth- dusty and dirty. However, the walls were a different story.

On the walls hung souls of many different races, all being chained to the wall like you saw the human soul. Pleading voices of humans, elves, dwarves, orks, and many other creatures screamed throughout the maze, sending chills down your spine. The howling of the creatures was caused for one reason, and perhaps the scariest reason of all.

In the middle of the room, right in front of one of the Elven souls stood a creature, that looked much like a vampire. The creature was obviously a soul, distinctively deciphered from the outer appearance.
The creature was in the same form of a vampire, with pale white ghostly material, and vicious teeth protruding from the vampire’s mouth. Suddenly, a flashback occurred in your mind.

You climbed down the staircase, observing the sturdy build of the coffin. Your shining steel armor glimmered against the candles illuminating the room. You walked towards the coffin, cautiously opening it, expecting an attack. A vampire leapt out at you, clawing at your armor. You parry it away with your mithiril longsword, and stab again and again at the creature, not stopping until it was dead. You lunge one last time, and the creature shrieked with fury. You whip out the stake, and drive it into the vampire’s heart.

09-Feb-2009 18:04:17 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 18:55:31 by Cicobe1



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Page 23:

The vampire screeched, and it stared at you with blank, yellow eyes. The creature collapsed, and fell to the floor in a heap of green blood. You couldn’t wait to tell Morgan! “Count Draynor has been slain.”

The creature was Count Draynor! You remembered your visits with Morgan, plotting ways to rid the vampire out of the long abandoned mansion. When you killed him, he wasn’t exactly dead.

His soul flew to the Death Zone, and found its way back into the manor. Suddenly, the elf screamed, “Please! Please no! Don’t do this! I am part of the council in the land of elves! The elves will have you killed, I swear of it.”

Just then, the soul of Count Draynor hissed, and lunged at the elf. The elf’s muscles started to bulge with effort, and veins wrapped around the elf’s strong build. The elf let out a brave scream, and broke the chains that surrounded his wrists.

The chains fell to the floor, rattling around near Count Draynor’s feet. “You can’t esssscape. I will kill you. You will not essssscape, you will die!" screamed the soul of Count Draynor, echoing throughout the massive dungeon.

“I refuse to go down! I will fight to the death!” screamed the elf. The elf reached for the quiver on his back, pulling out an arrow. He ripped out his bow from his leather belt, and strung the arrow on the bowstring.

He held his hands back, his steady blue eyes glaring at the creature in front of him. He was wearing a green hat, which pointed upwards toward the stalactites on the roof. The entire green outfit of the elf was easily visible in the dull Death Zone, standing out against the grayish environment.

The green torso, outlined with a feathery white material that followed all the way to the cuffs of his sleeves, which were pulled back to reveal a soft interior of the shirt, probably made of fur.

His pants were the same, with a green build to them, neatly stitched together with a fine crafting skill.

09-Feb-2009 18:13:52 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 18:55:55 by Cicobe1



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Page 24:

His shoes were a leathery brown, which was about the only part of his outfit that didn't stand out. His blond hair was long and straight, and went to about shoulder length. His face was sharp and serious, with veins pulsing on his forehead from effort.

The sharp edges of his face added to the dramatic scenario, and his emotionless blue eyes were the finishing touch, staring right at the vampire. His body was slightly transparent, but not as much as the other souls.

Then, the battle began. The elf ran with lightning speed at Count Draynor, who was also slightly transparent. The elf dashed with athleticism, one foot in front of the other.

The vampire rose and hovered in the air, facing in the elf’s direction. The vampire flashed its long fangs, dripping an odd liquid on the floor. The silvery liquid was dripping on the floor, and seemed to make everything around it completely immaculate.

The vampire flew towards the elf, and tried to scratch at his eyes. The elf dodged quickly to the side, and made a quick side-step with his feet, and punched with all his might.

The blow rippled across the vampire’s face, sending him flying across the room. The vampire crashed into a nearby wall, sending cracks riding up to the middle of the wall.

You feel helpless watching, but you keep your feet planted to the ground; you dare not get involved. The vampire swiftly recovered, and tried yet another lunge attempt at the elf. The elf leaped up over the vampire, clearing a span of about a six foot leap.

The elf was about to turn around when the vampire quickly used its claws to slash across the elf's neck, opening a gaping wound. Red blood poured out onto the floor, as the elf winced in pain.

He knew there was no time to lose however, and maneuvered himself to face the vampire. He held his bow in his hand, and with anger, Count Draynor lunged at the elf yet again. The elf let the bowstring go, sending the arrow flying through the air.

09-Feb-2009 18:13:53 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 18:56:14 by Cicobe1



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Page 25:

The projectile hit the vampire on the arm, pouring a greenish liquid around the area. The vampire hissed and tried yet again to scratch, but with no success as the elf whipped around and kicked the vampire on his cheek.

The vampire doubled over on the floor, rolling over and stopping near the wall. The vampire hissed and started to roll around in pain. Count Draynor flashed his teeth, and recovered himself from the blow.

The elf sprinted at him and made a small hop in the air, spinning around in a full circle and letting his foot loose out of a curl in an attempt to knock the vampire over in his momentum.

The vampire dodged it, as he somersaulted out of the way, and leapt up towards the elf, letting his claws rip throughout the elf’s back. The elf screamed in pain, and collapsed to the floor.

“That’s it! I’m done watching! I can’t hold my promise to Zamorak if it means watching this. I’ve slain you once Count Draynor, I can do it again!” you scream.

The vampire whirled around to face you, its yellow eyes gleaming throughout the room. The vampire let out a fierce hiss, and ran towards you. You fly out of the way, letting your scythe dangle by your side.

You quickly turn around to face him, and pull out your scythe. You carry the scythe by your side, running at him with full force. The vampire followed suit, and lunged at you with enormous claws. You make a bit of a stumble, and the vampire takes advantage.

It unleashes fury upon you, digging its claws into your ribs. You scream in pain, wincing at the piercing blow. You fall to the floor, and can’t get the vampire off you. The vampire stays hooked to your ribs, and you make desperate attempts to get him off of you.

You roll around on the floor, but to no prevail. The vampire digs deeper, and you howl out in pain. You try to stand up, but the vampire’s strong claws bring you back down. You squirmed around on the floor, trying to release the vampire’s hold.

09-Feb-2009 18:13:53 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 18:56:37 by Cicobe1



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The vampire retracts its claws from your ribs, and grasps your skull in its hands. “Now, you die!!” screamed Count Draynor. It sunk its claws into your skull, and everything started to grow dark. Your vision faded, and everything became blurry.

Suddenly, you hear a loud piercing scream by the vampire. With a lot of effort, you look up to see the vampire looking up towards the ceiling, screaming. The vampire’s screech was unlike anything you’ve ever heard.

The shriek echoed throughout the entire room, and it fell to the floor, its claws lodged in your skull. You cholericly grasp his body, and feel a liquid substance start to flow around your hands.

You throw him across the room, and the vampire flew into the concrete wall, sending the entire wall crumbling down upon the vampire, shattering him into a mist. The mist rose upwards and away, floating through the ceiling of the dungeon and beyond.

You look towards the direction of the elf, and are surprised to see the elf standing up, holding a bow, lines of worry across his face.

“The poor hell creature never saw it coming. When it had you, I recovered enough to be able to stand up. While the creature was focused on you, I shot one of my arrows, and it was a direct hit into its back. Are you alright?” asked the elf.

“Yes, I do believe I’m okay. If that vampire had held me any longer, I would probably not be here right now. I must know your name,” you say.

“My name is Cëril, and yours?”

“I suppose you can call me The Grim Reaper,” you respond.

“Nice to meet you. May I ask why you’re down here?” Cëril asked.

“I am a follower of Zamorak, and I was assigned a new job, to reap the souls of the Death Zone. I will spare yours, since I am in eternal gratitude for saving my life. I’m sorry, but for those chained on the walls, I must reap them.”

“I understand,” Cëril responded.

You walked over to the souls chained on the walls, and held your scythe high in the air.

09-Feb-2009 18:13:54 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 18:56:56 by Cicobe1



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The ork soul stared helplessly at you, but you showed no emotion. You sliced across the creature’s head, letting its head fall to the floor, and after a few rolls, it transformed into mist and floated upwards and away. You did the same for every creature, and by then you felt like crying, but held your tears back.

“I must go back to Zamorak, would you like to come with me?” you ask.

“Absolutely, but do you think that Zamorak will spare me as well?” Cëril asked.

“If he doesn’t, I will make sure of it.”

You then walked with Cëril out of the wretched dungeon of the Death Zone, and walked on your way into the horizon.


09-Feb-2009 18:13:55 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 18:57:17 by Cicobe1



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Chapter 2.3: The Message

Page 28:


Zamorak was in his realm, observing his surroundings. Deep in the abyss of the underworld, he sat on his demonic throne.

It was a large carving of fire, in the form of wood. It was the end of a huge room, with red pillars jutting out from the sides. The middle was full of red tiles, and there stood his evil beings, the Dragonkin.

“One of you fools go get Iban, I must speak to my son."

The Dragonkin looked about, trying to decide who would go fetch Zamorak’s son, Iban.

“Quickly, one of you go before I kill you all! My words are not to be taken lightly!” screamed Zamorak.

One of the Dragonkin, with a sturdy build spread its wings and flew into the air, soaring through the evil halls, and lofting away. The other Dragonkin stared at Zamorak, his reddish figure matching with his surroundings.

The Dragonkin was of a tough build, a human-like creature with huge, crimson wings sprouting out of its back. The back was a red-scarlet, the sun shimmering upon its scales.

The face was completely red, especially the eyes. The eyes were a deep enigma, completely blank with a blood-colored tone. The entire figure seemed to be a halo in the sky, soaring out of the underworld and appearing above.

The Dragonkin swooped down, hovering over the Wilderness. It recognized its surroundings, and flew in the direction of Ardougne, on its way to a vast new world to retrieve Zamorak’s wish.

The son of Zamorak, Iban, supposedly lived somewhere deep underground, beneath the trenches of the Underground Pass, located near Ardougne.
It made its way across the countryside, knowing it had quite a journey to make. With the fast flapping wings of the Dragonkin however, this flight should be quite easy.

The Dragonkin estimated the trip to be no more than about an hour, yet the journey dragged on.

09-Feb-2009 18:13:56 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 18:57:54 by Cicobe1



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By then, the Dragonkin had sailed out of the Wilderness, the deep ditch becoming blocked by the puffy build of the clouds. The sky was a beauty today, majestically above the ground in a deep sea of blue. The clouds were another feature that added to the beautiful scenario.

They puffed out every so often, blocking the Dragonkin’s line of vision. When the endless trench of a cloud finally came to an end, the Dragonkin looked down to see he was above the vast fields of Taverley, observing the dark city of Burthorpe nearby.

The snow-capped mountain of wolves was a border between the druids of Taverley and the fast moving life in Catherby. One was a quiet country side, supposedly a sanctuary while the other had every single resource an adventurer could ever need.

There were perfectly placed yews, flax to string, honey to collect, and a gigantic spot for fishing. Flying straight over, the black dot of what seemed to be the Necromancer’s Tower seemed to break the beautiful scenery, transforming the landscape of the grassy fields into a black dead zone full of bats and dark magic.

The Dragonkin arched its wings and turned south, towards the direction of Ardougne and began its ascension once it had reached the Legend’s Guild. A small mining spot soon became in view as the Dragonkin had nearly touched the ground.

The rough road had enough friction with the Dragonkin’s landing that it was just enough to allow the Dragonkin not to go flying into the Ardougne walls.

The Dragonkin thought in its native tongue, “Now I have followed Zamorak’s orders, yet I must go through the chaos of the many adventurers having eyes on me.”

The tall, 20-foot Dragonkin made its way through Ardougne square, feeling the odd sensation of being watched.

Thieves stopped thieving, attackers stopped attacking, sellers stopped selling, and the entire life of Ardougne was sapped away on the entrance by the Dragonkin.

09-Feb-2009 18:13:57 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 18:58:15 by Cicobe1



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Finally, one bold adventurer stepped forward, out of the crowd and into the Dragonkin’s line of vision. “Thou are not welcome here! Stay out of our town, or I will have to force you out.”

The Dragonkin hissed, clearly not able to decipher the words that the adventurer spoke. Still, despite the threats, the adventurer stepped forward.

“I said go away! Worshipers of the evil god Zamorak such as you monstrous being, are not welcomed in this paradise!”

Yet again the Dragonkin hissed, but to no prevail. The adventurer withdrew a shield and sword, and they seemed to be of very high class.

The Dragonkin unsheathed its retractable claws, and stood still as if petrified by the brave adventurer’s gaze. The adventurer didn't back off however, and stood his ground. The Dragonkin widened its stance, getting in ready position for an attack.

The adventurer flinched, and in an instant the Dragonkin was by his side, grabbing him by the throat. The Dragonkin roared in satisfaction, and completed its grasp, making the adventurer’s head explode in a barrage of crimson liquid.

The other adventurers ran away screaming, and all left the entire city of Ardougne vacant. The Dragonkin proceeded to West Ardougne, pushing the gates aside with ease.

The guards at the top of the towers attempted to shoot, but the Dragonkin took notice and it slashed at the tower, sending smithereens of the tower shooting about, making the guards fall a height of about thirty feet, falling to the ground in a mess of splinters and scarlet blood.

The Dragonkin ripped apart the gate, proceeding on its way to tell the message to Iban. It crawled into the Underground Pass with much effort, and was at last in the deep, dark cavern.

It proceeded to fly through the passageways, avoiding traps at all cost. The stalagmites and stalactites threatened to puncture the Dragonkin’s wings, making it fall helplessly into a bath of lava, but the Dragonkin continued forward.

09-Feb-2009 18:13:57 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 18:59:15 by Cicobe1



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Wounds from rough cavern walls and small passageways left the Dragonkin in much pain, but its determination kept it to proceed.

At last, it made it to the giant doors of Iban, the metal doors creeping open as if Iban were expecting the Dragonkin. The Dragonkin walked forth, approaching the tall chair of Iban.

Iban sat in the chair in a thinking position, as if predicting the Dragonkin's next move. Iban had a black cloak and pale skin, but the features of his face were not visible under his hood.

His entire cloak was black, with an odd purple symbol in the middle. The Dragonkin approached, and said in its native tongue, “Zamorak desires your attention my liege. He asks that you come with him to his lair, where he will tell you something very urgent.”

“Ah yes, I’ve been expecting you. I’ve heard word of you coming from my soldiers, they noticed a commotion occurring in Ardougne square.

Let us go, and I’ll save you the trip back. Oh! You seem to be injured. Allow me to heal you,” said Iban, in a cold raspy voice, speaking in Dragonkin tongue, from which he had practiced so many times before.

Iban walked over to the Dragonkin, and placed his hand on his forehead. The Dragonkin flinched as Iban placed his cold, icy hand atop the Dragonkin’s forehead. Veins popped their way through, making an imprint on Iban’s forehead from the amount of effort.

The process was quite tiresome to Iban, yet he was persistent. He let purple magic flow through his hand, seeping into the wings of the Dragonkin, slowly healing the gaping wounds in the Dragonkin’s wing.

The healing was finished, and Iban took a bit of time to recover. When he was ready, he grabbed the Dragonkin’s shoulders, and took two Runestones, smashed them together, and in an instant they were in the deep, dark room of Zamorak’s throne room.

09-Feb-2009 18:13:58 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 18:59:37 by Cicobe1



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At first Iban was a bit uneasy due to the frightening designs and numerous eyes watching him as he went in, but soon succumbed to the ominous scenario.

“Father, I have gotten news that you must tell me something. By all means, please do tell me what you have waited so long to say.”

“Ah yes, I’ve been expecting you,” said Zamorak.

“Then by all means, allow me to listen,” said Iban.

“Here it goes. As you probably know, I am on uneasy ground with my mortal enemy, Saradomin. Saradomin refuses to allow any of my followers in his realm, forcing me to deal with a limited space.

With my army, how dare he limit my realm! I have plans for the future, but for now we must discuss another matter. I have recently gotten hold of the adventurer I have been telling you about for so long.

The person proves to be a worthy solider, and will make a great leader in our division. His name goes by 'The Grim Reaper.’ He underwent the transformation…”

“The transformation! You made him go through that?” asked Iban.

“Yes, I did what deemed necessary. Please allow me to continue. He is doing a wonderful job as a Reaper, and I will continue to use him. He doesn’t know what I am actually using him for, however.”

“You don’t mean…”

“Yes I do! Do not interrupt me again, my son. He went into the mansion, and my Dragonkin have spotted him, and he has found an elf.

The elf is quite famous; he goes by the name of Cëril. I will have to speak to him however about the elf’s history, he still does not know. Come closer son,” said Zamorak.

Iban did as told, and walked towards Zamorak. Zamorak leaned over his throne and whispered in Iban’s ear.
After a short while, Zamorak asked, “Do you understand my orders, son?”

“Don’t worry, I understand perfectly,” said Iban with a devious smile.

“To affirm that you do, please do tell me what your orders are,” said Zamorak.

“Kill The Grim Reaper.”


09-Feb-2009 18:13:59 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:00:10 by Cicobe1



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Chapter 2.4: Elven History

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Cëril and you walked out of the wretched dungeon and on into the twilight. The shimmering sky punctured the fluffy build of the clouds, and the whole dawn view-point of the perspective of Lumbridge seemed quiet spectacular.

You reach out into the depths of your mind with the help of the Death Scythe and branch out into the world, feeling for the depths of the inner world.

You feel the hollow room of Zamorak’s lair, and reach out towards Zamorak’s mind. He feels the slight tinge, and quickly takes the form of a ghostly-like creature, and floats above to you, and enters the inner sanctuary of your mind.

Zamorak then spoke in his usual voice and said, “Really? Done so soon? I do expect that you found the adventurer, yes?”

“No! As a matter of fact I didn't! I went on a desperate attempt to try to find the adventurer, and no one was there. I had to walk down to see quite a desolate sight, to see every single soul there bitten by the soul of Count Draynor.
I had to fight him off and parry blow after blow, and I’m partially hurt. Luckily, I was restive on death when a fellow elf soul helped me, his name is Cëril. I know you are of the devious type Zamorak, and I refuse to talk to you with any sort of respect when you make me go through something as pitiful as that!
I am on uneasy ground with you Zamorak, and I will allow no sort of escape from this question. Answer this now or I will quit as your official Reaper.”

“I do see your point, and I ask you to calm down. Let’s take this step by step before this becomes a choleric situation. Calm your nerves and relax, just relax…”

You feel sleepy, and your mind starts to drift away. You hear Cëril swearing in the background, but you can’t decipher what he is screaming. He looks at you wide-eyed, and starts to yell but everything starts to become a vivid, blurred out perspective.

09-Feb-2009 18:23:18 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:00:48 by Cicobe1



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The many colors of the background start to fade and sink away with the rest of your mind, and the thought process stopped, making your entire brain shut down. You start to feel uneasy, and lose footing. You stumble backwards over your cloak, hit your head on the sheep pen stile, and fall away into a deep, deep sleep…

You wake up to see yourself in Zamorak’s room, the enormous extent becoming a daunting, perplexing, and vast span. Zamorak sat upon his throne, and his figure was very luminous under the dark shading of the candles.

He had a long, red cloak which covered most of his body, and the entire enigma of his facial features were shrouded under the lava-colored hood. He stood up, revealing the emblem of himself hanging about on his chest.

You look to your right, and see long, crimson columns stretching all the way up to the rocky roof which looked much like a cavern would. Lined across the room where soldiers of red armor, with an odd, fire-shaped emblem engraved in the middle of their Zamorakian armor.

The red chain mail glittered against the flare of the candle, along with their rough armor covering the majority of their legs. The boots were yet another reddish color, adding to the giant figure. A hood was placed upon the head likewise to Zamorak, also covering the majority of their facial features.

You look to your left and see the long line of soldiers, nearly identical to your rightmost side. There was one exception however, in the fact that the green elf that appeared to be Cëril had his head down, as if in shame.

He was chained to the cavern wall, and his face and visible skin was blackened by dust and soot. You look directly forward, and start to panic. You breathe heavily, when noticing the biggest change of all. You look down and see that your hands aren’t what they used to be. The pallid former hands now a light skin tone.

09-Feb-2009 18:23:19 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:01:12 by Cicobe1



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Your legs were now the original, covering up the bulk of your emerald pants. You were back to your human form! You look up to see Zamorak standing up, now looking directly at you.

The soldiers all looked up anonymously when Zamorak began speaking. He said, “I have brought you to my lair to expose this filthy liar Cëril for who he really is. He is a deceiver, and should be killed immediately.”

You then respond by pleading, “But why? What did he ever do?”

“Ah, this is where you are unfortunate enough to not know about the poor elf’s history.”

“What history? What has he ever committed?” you ask.

“This is something I call show, don’t tell. I won’t tell you what he has done in the past, but I will show you.”

“How will you show me?”

Your question was immediately answered when Zamorak flung his arm out, and a wave of memories lined your eyes. Your eyelids became heavy, and you started to drift out and away into the sunken memories of your mentality.

You fell to the floor, a rush of memories thundering through your mind. You started to feel lightheaded, and everything became white.

You wake up to see yourself in a human form, but slightly transparent. You see a forest land, rich of trees and fertile soil. Much grass filled the entire area, and there were elves looming about the vacant lot. You then realized what Zamorak had done. You had been sent into a flashback, showing you the true past of Cëril.

You found yourself being tugged towards a large building, with a similar build to a coliseum. You were dragged inside, but no one appeared to pay any attention to you.

You were supposedly trapped here in the middle of a rewind of an elf’s life, with no recognition by anyone who was there. Then you thought to yourself, “Maybe no one can see me!”

You were brought into a large room, with strong, mightily built oak chairs that were carved and shaved down for only the finest of elves to sit upon.

09-Feb-2009 18:23:20 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:01:30 by Cicobe1



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There sat twelve council members, all with similar looks on their face. You look about, examining each one carefully, when you stumbled upon the face of Cëril.

You then heard Zamorak whisper, “This is a flashback of Cëril’s memories, and you have no clue of why he is not welcome in my lair. I have long wanted him to be found, and you shall explore why he is one of my dreaded enemies. Right here, he may not have told you, but he was a part of the Elvish council. There were twelve, and he happened to be a great political ambassador who helped rule all of the Elvish lands. Now watch here, and see what he says.”

Then one of the elves stood with a pale face, and spoke, “Cëril, we are trusting you to go on this mission.”

“I understand,” said Cëril.

“To make an overview of the mission, I shall elaborate. You obviously know that we are in bad relations with some of the races in Gielnor, I should expect.
However, to come from our race, that is just despicable! One of the main rules, the first rule in fact, is the biggest sin of all Elvish code.
Treason is not taken lightly here Cëril, and I do expect that you know that. Glendol has long tortured our race, and we have never completely trusted him. However, for a council member… He was loyal, but he did arouse suspensions among us. When he was getting food for his family, he did something that will be put down in our textbooks for years to come.
He did something so horrific, and under his authority it was quite a disappointment. He whipped out a bow and arrow, and shot one of our fishermen.
He went on a complete rampage and shot and killed nearly thirty of our people like a lunatic, and ran off into the mountains.
He is a traitor in our midst, and your mission is to retrieve him, and we will sentence him to the worse sentence possible. Please retrieve him, he is heard to be found somewhere deep within the Arandar path.

09-Feb-2009 18:23:20 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:01:52 by Cicobe1



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Do you understand your mission?”

“Understood. I will get right to it.”

With that, Cëril walked out and walked to his home in Lletya, and grabbed his belongings, including some food for the trip, a small canteen of water, and his quiver along with his bow. He dashed out of the camp and ran along to the inner gates of the Arandar path, and ran through.

He ran along the rocky floor, avoiding any boulders that may slow him down or deter him from his path. He searched to and fro, looking for any traces of Glendol. He climbed up a steep cliff, and walked atop to see a heap of a body, laying there, quivering. The body shook and was curled up into a ball, breathing abnormally.

Cëril walked up and laid his hand on the body, and it shook with tremendous force. It wheeled around to show the face of Glendol, his face roughed up from days of thirst and hunger. Cuts made their way across his body, and spread all the way down to his rags of a shirt.

He stared wide-eyed at Cëril and said, “They’re all crazy! They drove me out of town! An arrow slipped and woops! I accidentally hit one of those loony fishermen that always come by. They all loony! They all angry and mad! They all chase me out of city, and drive me into mountains! I scared… I hungry…. I thirsty… I mad!”

“No need to be mad, just come with me,” said Cëril.

“No! You another one of those retrievers. I won’t go back with you, I won’t!”

At that, Cëril whipped out a bow and knocked down the arrow, and held the bow directly at Glendol and said, “Come with me or die.”

"Not... without… a fight.”

Glendol leaped up and thrashed about like a madman, struggling to stand up. At long last he was on two feet, and ran closer to Cëril.

He walked about like a crazed maniac, looming from side to side. He nearly stumbled twice, and as if drunk, waved his hands about. He let his arm fly into Cëril’s cheekbone, and he fell because of the force.

09-Feb-2009 18:23:21 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:02:10 by Cicobe1



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He had a surprising amount of power, but Cëril recovered and stood up. He strung the arrow and shot it, and it hit Glendol in the stomach. He looked down to see an oozing liquid pour out of his torso, and it spilled upon the floor. He started to cackle, and laughed like a madman.

He ran forward, blood gushing out of his gut, still laughing maniacally. Another arrow was shot, hitting Glendol in the leg. He stumbled and fell to the floor, and started to have a massive seizure. He rolled around, spitting foam on the ground.

Cëril strung another arrow, and prepared to shoot it at his head. Laughing echoed throughout the mountains, sending shivers down Cëril’s spine. He released the arrow, and it exploded in a mist of crimson red, and Glendol’s head was no more.

The body started to roll around, making a gruesome sight of blood spilling out onto the rocky plateau. The body at last stopped moving, and Cëril stood there, paralyzed. He then whispered to himself, “That’s not what I planned! I was supposed to bring back Glendol to the council. What will they say when they found out I killed him?”

Cëril made his way back to the large building, and walked inside to the council room, to see all the council members looking up, surprised. The main one spoke and said, “Where is Glendol? You were supposed to bring him back with you!”

“It was me or his life! He attacked me, and I was forced to kill him,” responded Cëril.

“You were not elected a council member for nothing. Your mission wasn't to kill him, and there is no second chance for this. You deserve punishment, and you will be sentenced to the worst possible punishment.”

“For one simple missed mission?”

“Yes! We needed Glendol, and we depended on you. Killing him made you the madman that he was. You will receive the punishment that he would have received, the worst an elf can ever become unfortunate enough to come across.”

“You don’t mean…”

09-Feb-2009 18:23:22 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:02:35 by Cicobe1



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“You, Cëril, council member of the Elvish lands, are hereby banished from the Elvish lands!!”

Cëril broke out into tears, and was escorted out by two muscular guards. They brought him to the gates, and they were opened.

They roughly threw him out, flying out into the dirt of the outside world, isolated. He crawled away on his knees, his inner mind ripped to shreds in shame.

A guard walked over and kicked him in the ribs, making him flop to the floor, crying in misery. The guards slammed the gates shut, and Cëril lie there in pain, crying for the rest of that dark, dismal night.

Everything started to become a blur in your eyes, and the vision was sped up to yet another scene. Cëril trudged along the dirt near the Outpost, miserably thinking about his past experiences.

It was dark at night, and wolves howled in the distance. Yellow eyes became visible throughout the darkness of the night. Suddenly, a wolf leapt out and attacked the silhouette of Cëril, pouncing atop his chest.

Cëril tried to heave him off, but he was too heavy. The wolf scratched at his eyes, tearing them out. The empty-eyed abyss of his eye sockets stared into the darkness, and the wolf continued to bite and scratch at his innards. He was ripped to shreds, and was left to die on that cold, lonely, winter night.

Cëril woke up in Zamorak’s lair, where a much younger form of Zamorak sat upon his throne. Zamorak spoke with force, “Cëril, you would be of much use to me. Join me, and together we will be able to create a monstrous force, and be able to take over the world of Gielnor!”

“Why should I accept your offer?” Cëril asked.

“Ha! If you dare choose to not accept my offer, I will trap you here, forever. That is a fate worse than death, and should you be unfortunate enough to choose that path, I promise you that I will stick to that. So, your decision time has come.

09-Feb-2009 18:23:23 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:02:53 by Cicobe1



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Either say no and be left to rot in the deep chasm of my realm, or choose to be the ultimate Reaper of all time!”
“So either I become an all powerful “Reaper” as you say, or be left to rot here? I believe that I must accept your offer, however much I despise you.”

“I figured that you would be wise. Now, here is the Death Scythe,” said Zamorak as he handed Cëril the scythe. Cëril clutched it in his hands and started to shake, and fell to the floor in a similar reaction to you.

He fell on walls, tripped over himself, and acted like a total madman for quite a long period of time. At last, he regained his common sense and stood up, and yelled, “You at least could have warned me!”

“Ah, but that would have spoiled the fun, wouldn't it?”

You wince, thinking of when Zamorak said the same thing to you.

“There is one minor condition, however,” said Cëril.

“And what would that be?” Zamorak asked.

“Well, being the Reaper obviously means that I must kill others, but there is one thing I am quite afraid of. I know all about the world of the Death Zone from elders in my village, but I have one concern. Should I go to the Death Zone, I will eventually have to reap Elvish souls too. That is something I cannot do. I refuse to be a traitor against my own race, despite the fact that I’m already thought of as one.”

“That should not be a problem. The elves are already dead, and will not recognize you. Simple as that!” Zamorak said quickly, with a bit of haste.

“But wouldn’t that mean…”

“No, let’s drop this conversation.”

“That’s because you don't want to give in!”

“Silence! A minute elf like you should not dare talk back to someone of such high authority as me. I chose you because you were strong-willed. You have some darkness inside you, everybody does. Especially you, I sense a strong power in you. To be a Reaper, some requirements must be met. Obviously you must be dead.

09-Feb-2009 18:23:24 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:03:14 by Cicobe1



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When I found you on that winter night, I brought you into my lair and you were left unconscious for a few hours. I’d been previously watching you, and I know that you have the potential to be one of the greatest Reapers of all time.”
“Well then I accept your offer, and I will reap my first soul to my best ability.”

“Thank you for accepting my offer.”

Cëril was transported out of the lair by Zamorak via magic, and was left in the Death Zone, in Lumbridge. Suddenly, everything was becoming blurry, and the flashback was moved up to another scene, where you see Cëril in a rush, quickly darting away from the city.

Zamorak then spoke in your head, “This is the last part of what I have to show. As you can see, Cëril has a lot to him. Prior to this, Cëril reaped his first soul and was driven insane by the pressure.

He went mad, and attempted to run away. He quickly dropped my scythe, and attempted to run away. I was watching him, and he was a great Reaper. However, his emotions got the best of him and I saw how he attempted to run away. I sent a Dragonkin after him, and here it resumes.”

Cëril scrambled away, a colossal Dragonkin flying high above him. The Dragonkin swooped down with its claws, attempting to kill Cëril. The elf just jumped out of the way with success, and continued to dart away.

He jumped over a fence with much athleticism and hid in the many pieces of grain that were laid out on the farm. The Dragonkin swooped over, attempting to smell his scent.

When the Dragonkin came closer, Cëril jumped away without being noticed into the lumber mill. The Dragonkin looked about, but could find no trace of Cëril. It flew back into the sky, and Cëril had gotten away.

“As you can see, Cëril has some of the best talents in the world. He is athletic, skilled in archery, and clearly a very good Reaper, maybe one of the best of all times. He truly does have potential, and I wanted him. He ran away and escaped, and we now have hold of him!”

09-Feb-2009 18:23:25 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:03:34 by Cicobe1



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“You can’t do this! I was befriending him when you stepped in the way! I can’t be separated from someone who saved my life. I refuse to allow you to be able to take that away from me!” you scream.

“You dare refuse my orders?!”

“I’m not scared, I will not be your Reaper if you don’t let him go.”

Zamorak froze and stared at you harshly, his face pale white. You then say, “If you don’t let him go, I’ll break the scythe.”

You held the scythe in two hands, and prepared to snap it at the slightest move of Zamorak. Zamorak then spoke, “Treachery is taken even worse than the elves. If you dare try to rebel against me, I will hunt you down.
I will send my soldiers all over the land, and my Dragonkin will send a siege over the world of Runescape. I will hunt you down should you decide to run away, like the coward Cëril.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you respond.

“Try me. It’s your decision, why not take a risk? Either you stop this madness and remain as my official Reaper, but we kill Cëril for his treason-like ways, or you will both be killed. It’s one or the other, so make your decision.”


“Yes...Yes!” Zamorak’s eyes gleamed with excitement.

“I refuse!”

You dash about, avoiding any guards coming in your way. “Seize him!” Zamorak screamed to his guards. Guards came running forward, creating a pool of red chainmail. The lair was in chaos.

The Dragonkin circled about, and the soliders clashed at you trying to swing their axes to decapitate you. You ran with the Reaper’s scythe, and ran towards the chained Cëril.

Despite the guards following, you persisted to try to remove the chains from the elf’s arms. You swung the Death Scythe high over your head and slashed forward, breaking the chain in half.

You did the same for each chain that was connected to a limb, and took Cëril by one hand and yanked him away from an oncoming axe.

09-Feb-2009 18:23:25 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:03:57 by Cicobe1



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Page 43:

You dashed about, trying to get out of the void of Zamorak’s castle. This was a chaotic escape mission, but anything was better than allowing Zamorak to slay your best friend. You ran about and Cëril followed, avoiding swords and axes that tried to swing down upon your heads. You found a door and ran out, into the red carpeted hallways of Zamorak’s castle. You ran into a room, and locked the door, not allowing any guards to see. The guards ran past the room, and you breathed a sigh of relief. With a bit of a laid-back and cool persona, you opened the door and turned around the corner. A guard stood there, axe high over his head. “No one escapes Zamorak’s castle,” said the guard. You and Cëril stood there helplessly watching as an axe was about to chop down upon your skull.


09-Feb-2009 18:23:26 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:04:14 by Cicobe1



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Chapter 2.5: Escape

Page 44:

You and Cëril stood there helplessly watching as an axe was about to chop down upon your skull. All of a sudden, Cëril leaped out in front of you, and held his bow in front of him.

The axe clashed with the bow, sending splinters of wood flying across the room. The man had a grimace on his face, and he was straining to push down upon the bow. Cëril had much strength and pushed with both hands on the bow, attempting to retaliate with equal force. It was a contest of strength, and one would prevail over the other.

The battle became heavy with brute force, both of them pushing to their full strength. You stood there watching in your normal human form, watching carefully as the upper hand swayed from one to the other.

Their biceps bulged through their shirts, and Cëril’s bow started to bend a bit. His axe started coming closer to the elf's neck, and it was right at his Adam’s apple. Cëril’s face grew red with blood and pressure as the axe came closer and closer. Cëril then leaped out of the way, and the man’s axe fell to the floor because of the momentum.

The axe was lodged in the ground, in the rough oak floor. Cëril smiled harshly and picked up his bow and knocked down an arrow.

The man started to plead helplessly and tried to hastily pick his axe out of the floor. “Goodbye!” said Cëril as he let the arrow fly and it hit the man in the shoulder. His face grew pale and he started to bleed, the arrow stuck in his red chain mail.

He started to spew blood over the floor, making a crimson red feel to the dark, paranormal, and hostile home of Zamorak. He gasped for air, and his face became wrapped in visible, purple veins. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he was no more. He fell to the floor in a heap of blood and gore, and you and Cëril ran off.

You ran to and fro, avoiding any oncoming guards. You then walked out of the hallway into a huge room with many staircases flowing off toward other rooms.

09-Feb-2009 18:35:42 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:04:49 by Cicobe1



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The gaping center had a tremendously large rug, and was marked with the evil symbol of Zamorak. From behind you, you could hear shouts and the glow of ruby in the background. Soon, soldiers came into view, and you and Cëril gave each other a quick look. “What are we going to do?! We’re trapped on a huge platform about fifty feet from the ground! The fall would kill us, we can’t jump!” you say.

“Ah yes, but you’d be surprised at the possibilities you can explore with a bow and arrow.”

“Don’t speak in riddles! We have to hurry!” you exclaim.

“Ah, don’t worry, I’ve been in much worse situations than this,” said Cëril.

Cëril looked toward the direction of a large tapestry that hung about on the wall, held on by a large string. The string was very long and thick, ideal for being able to walk upon…

Cëril ran towards the string and ripped it off the tapestry, making a flurry of soldiers come crashing down under the weight of the giant piece of cloth. Cëril took the string and attached it to an arrow.

He knocked down the arrow and shot it toward a large chandelier on the ceiling. It was stuck in the large ornament, and the string became straight. Cëril leaped on top of the banister and with careful and nimble feet, walked across the tightrope. He then jumped off and hung onto the chandelier, and swung back and forth.

When his momentum was full, he leaped about ten feet to another platform, grasping the edge of it. He scaled his way up, and made it to the other side of the room.

From across the room you yelled, “I can’t do that! I can barely leap three feet let alone that distance! There has to be another way.”

The elf then responded by saying, “Don’t worry, if I was creative enough to make it across, so can you. Think of your surroundings and your belongings, what can you use to get across?”

“The only thing I have is the Death Scythe!”

“Then it is essential that you use that.”


09-Feb-2009 18:35:42 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:05:09 by Cicobe1



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Cëril smiled and said, “There are guards behind you, make up your mind quickly."

You then screamed and leapt off the banister and held the scythe high over your head. You swirled around in midair to make contact with the wall, and the blade lodged itself in it. You then started to scale the wall with much athleticism.

It was quite tedious and a challenge, yet you were determined to prevail. You could see the guards on the platform watching, hoping that you would fall. With the scythe in the wall, you yanked it out and swiftly planting it about a foot to your left, gaining very little distance. You kept going, and your palms became sweaty.

You felt your hands start to slip, and your grasp soon became empty. You started to fall, and you screamed the way down.

"No!" Cëril screamed.

You continued falling, when a strange occurrence took place. The Death Scythe started to vibrate in the wall, and started to twist about.

It was maneuvering itself out of the wall and after much twisting and turning, it flew out. It soared toward you, and entered itself in your grasp. You looked up at the ceiling, watching your life flash before your eyes.

Then you looked down and saw about ten feet left before you plummeted to your death. Suddenly, you stopped, and hung onto the scythe tightly. The scythe was above you, and you held on to it to avoid falling the remaining distance. The scythe started to fly upwards and away, onto the balcony on which Cëril stood.

“I see you found a way,” said Cëril and gave a quick smile.

“Not me, it was my scythe,” you respond.

“Ah, not quite. As a former reaper, I know why your scythe saved you. Your conscience had been screaming for something to pull you upwards, which sent the message toward the scythe.

The scythe received it and saved you. It doesn’t have a mind of its own however. Perhaps you remember Zamorak mentioning that this was like no other scythe.

09-Feb-2009 18:35:43 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:05:34 by Cicobe1



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This scythe had the power to reap others with ease, and also to fly. With this ability, the scythe picked up your signal and flew above, saving your life. Perhaps now you should help us out of here,” said Cëril.

“Yes, but how?” you ask.

“Simple. Fly upwards, into the nighttime sky! Follow me and grab the scythe, make sure you hold on tight.”

At that, you both grasped the scythe very tightly, the tendons of your wrists bulging from the pressure. “Now, command the scythe to fly,” said Cëril.

“Fly!” you scream.

The scythe started to shake yet again, and at last, flew upwards, carrying Cëril and you up into the sky. Above was a glass covering, normally shielding the castle from attacks. “Brace yourself!” screamed Cëril.

You continued to rise and smashed into the glass dome, sending smithereens of glass come shattering upon the floor.

The echo ran throughout the dimensions of the realm, and you could hear Zamorak screaming, down below. The nighttime sky was all you saw, as stars twinkled before your eyes. You soared above the horizon and beyond, observing the striking sky.

However, the landscape wasn’t as pleasing. Below were hordes of skeletons and zombies on cragged mountains. The ground was cracked and had a gaping hole in the middle, splitting across the entire mountainous land as if an earthquake was about to occur, and the fault line ran up into the horizon.

The scythe took you up and away, into the vast unknown. The realm was endless, and you were busy observing the firmament when you heard flapping behind you.

You look back to see a flock of Dragonkin coming your way, their red wings flapping and echoing throughout the landscape.

“Quick! I’ll hold them off, just be sure to steer the scythe, don’t let it rise forever!” screamed Cëril.

With your mind, you tried to steer the scythe, and you sent it into a vertical position. “Not that way! Turn it horizontally so we may sit upon it!

09-Feb-2009 18:35:43 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:06:06 by Cicobe1



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You humans have such blunt minds don’t you? Quickly, think with your mind, isolate yourself. Nothing else is happening around you, concentrate… concentrate…”

You listened to his instructions and focused upon the scythe, ignoring everything else around you. The scythe continued to fly upwards, and you blocked out all that may distract you from your thoughts.

You strained yourself trying and your head started to hurt. Everything started to go blurry, yet you kept trying. “Come on! You may have great physical strength but your mental strength is weak! You humans have simple minds, you do. Elves focus not only on archery and physical strength, but great mental strength as well, which is going to be essential in your future.”

You could barely hear him, and continued to block out everything. The Dragonkin propelled itself forward, smashing its wing into the scythe. The scythe shook and flipped itself over, making it a huge propeller in the sky. You flipped again and again and felt yourself getting nauseous.

The scythe was your target of your thoughts, nothing else. Suddenly, the scythe began to quiver and you regained control of it. It went into a horizontal position and you were able to sit upon it. “Yes!” you screamed in excitement.

The Dragonkin were catching up, and you started to hastily move the scythe forward. One Dragonkin started to fly forward and tried to rake its claws on your scythe. You leaned to the left side, making the scythe follow suit. Clouds sheathed you, making you invisible for a short moment.

When you flew out of the clouds, the Dragonkin followed. You maneuvered to the right, making a complete circle in the air to avoid the Dragonkin’s attack. The battle had become completely aerial, and you struggled to keep the scythe flying. “Descend! The Dragonkin is attacking from above!” screamed Cëril.

You leaned forward, and the scythe dove downward, and started to rapidly spin.

09-Feb-2009 18:35:44 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:06:34 by Cicobe1



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Everything became a huge kaleidoscope, a huge array of colors flashed before your eyes. “Don’t crash! Lean back!”

You did as told and were just able to avoid the upcoming ground, soaring about a foot above it. The Dragonkin followed suit and was barely above the rocky ground.

Cëril then stood up and knocked down an arrow. He stood atop the round-handled scythe, struggling to keep his balance. He shot the arrow and it hit the Dragonkin in the forehead.

It clutched its head in pain and fell to the floor, rolling and tumbling, scratching itself on the rocky ground. It landed finally, outstretched with its mouth gaping, dead. There were two more Dragonkin with fierce looks on their faces, swiftly chasing after you.

One Dragonkin moved forward and grabbed the end of the scythe. You attempted to shake it off by moving to the left and making a full twist in mid-air, and the Dragonkin lost its grip. It fell to the ground, making a tremendous crater where it landed. “Two down, one to go,” said Cëril.

The last Dragonkin followed after you, and you maneuvered the scythe toward the giant rift in the middle of the area.

You flew down, narrowly missing jagged rocks along the sides of the hole. The crack got even tighter, making it nearly too narrow for the Dragonkin to follow. Suddenly, the Dragonkin screamed, releasing a shriek to be heard all across the area.

You look back to see the Dragonkin clutching its wing. The wing was trapped in a spike on the wall, leaving a gaping hole with green liquid oozing out of the center. The Dragonkin managed to free itself, but to no prevail. It flapped its broken wing rapidly, but it could not fly. It fell expeditiously to the ground below, into the abyss and beyond.

You came to a slow stop with the scythe, and continued to descend until you reached the end. When at long last you did, it was nearly pure black at the end of the pit.

09-Feb-2009 18:35:45 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:06:54 by Cicobe1



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You could just make out the big hole in the far wall on the right side. You then said to the silhouette of Cëril, “I see a big hole in the wall over there; I believe that’s the way out.”

“There’s no use not to try, dare we go in?”

“I believe we should,” you reply.

You both approached the hole, and walked inside. All of a sudden, you saw a huge flash of light for a split second, and you ended up in a gigantic void. It looked a lot like outer space, with a black color around you and a slight tinge of red.

There were purple portals scattered around the place, and you assumed that they led to different realms. You approached one, and it gave a bit of the scenery of the world that was inside. You also noticed that you were hovering in mid-air, and you look down to see bottomless a bottomless void. “I do believe that we’ve entered the space between worlds,” said Cëril.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, there are numerous worlds, planets, and realms in our universe, and Gielnor is just one of them. I suppose that this is the void that will allow us to go to any realm we choose, and in this case, we should go to Gielnor.”

Cëril and you looked about for Gielnor, when you stumbled upon one portal that was showing the scenery of the vast grasslands in the northwest, the incredible desert in the southeast, the gloomy and green scenery of Morytania and the northeast, and the home city of Lumbridge.

“This must be the place. But before we go, I want you to realize that Zamorak’s soldiers aren’t only located in his lair, his minions are scattered in all realms. If we go back there, we may end up straight in one of Zamorak’s traps or locations for his wicked men,” said Cëril.

“I understand, but what other choice do we have?”

“None, which is why we must take the risk. Arm your weapons brother, we must go.”

At that, you looked at each other and nodded, and leaped into the portal, off into the unknown.


09-Feb-2009 18:35:45 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:07:21 by Cicobe1



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Chapter 2.6: Discussion

Page 51:

You leaped through the portal, and everything went black. Everything was a midst of darkness, confusion everywhere.

You shout, “Cëril! Are you there?”

“Yes, I’m here.”

Then, everything started to glow a bright blue, and the light was almost blinding. It immediately penetrated the black, and suddenly the world of Gielnor was set around you. The grassy plains, the tall trees, everything was back to normal.

“Where are we?” you ask.

“I do believe that we’re near the city of Catherby.”

“Phew, we’re safe.”

“Yeah, for once,” Cëril replied, and you both broke up in laughter. Once you regained your breath, you spoke. “What do we do now?

"I’m honestly not sure. Zamorak’s soldiers are sure to be after us now, searching the world of Gielnor probably wreaking havoc over the major cities looking for us. I suppose that we should save the citizens.”

“Can’t they defend themselves? The soldiers wouldn’t do them any harm, they’ll be looking for us,” you say.

“Ah, you’d be surprised at what Zamorak would command his soldiers to do. They’ll start to kill innocent civilians just to get answers from them to find out our location.”

“So is it our duty to try to save every single major city in Runescape from these monstrosities?"

"Yes, but do please say Gielnor.”

“Why? Isn’t the world called Runescape?” you ask.

“Ah, you humans don’t know yet.”

“What? Us humans don’t know what?”

“The world is called Runescape. This entire space of land is not Runescape. It is a continent that makes up the major world of Runescape. This continent is called Gielnor,” said Cëril.

“Do you mean to say that there are more lands other than Runesc- I mean Gielnor?” you ask.

“Why of course! There are countless other small islands scattered across the world, you’d be surprised at what you can find.

09-Feb-2009 18:35:45 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:07:55 by Cicobe1



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There’s a multitude of strange creatures in Gielnor, but there is a plethora of odd creatures scattered across these islands.”

“But* There are only islands? No other continents?” you asked.

“Of course not. There are three major continents in the world of Runescape. One is Gielnor, the one that we are standing upon right now. Each land has a specific fighting style, as you probably don’t know. As you can see, we fight with our entire body. We secure armor all over our bodies, and have a shield and weapon in each hand. Therefore, we are the continent of ‘Complete Body,’ as we focus on every part of our bodies, such as our legs, arms, and other fighting styles. We use the standard weapon and shield, which would be considered very strange compared to other lands.”

“I know about Gielnor, tell me about the other continents,” you said.

“Ha! You humans are very curious. I’m surprised you never learned this. I suppose you humans don’t even know about it. Alright, I’ll continue. The next continent is called Hao-Sung, also known as the ‘Eastern Lands.’ This land focuses on the ‘Bare arms,’ and I must say, they are a very strange group. They train with nothing, except their clothes, body, and mind. There is no armor, no weapons, and no shields. They train simply with bare hands. Their wars are a marvelous sight, despite the fact that there are thousands dying. Actually, now that I think about it, it's quite gruesome actually. They fight in hand-to-hand combat, using only punches and kicks. It may sound weak, but you would be surprised how strong they are. Their athleticism, swift movements, and nimble feet are incredibly powerful.”

“That’s amazing! Tell me about the last continent.”

“The last continent is quite an odd one too. The continent is called Ashgar, which focuses on the mind,” said Cëril.

“On the mind? How can you fight by using your mind?” you asked.

09-Feb-2009 18:35:46 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:08:38 by Cicobe1



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“It’s an incredible feat, I have no clue how they were able to do it. You humans have a spell known as ‘telegrab.’ This can be used by the Ashgar people, but requires no runes. Their minds can simply grab an object and move it to their liking. They have trained their minds to extreme endurance, yet doing such wonders depletes the stamina of the mind. Having no stamina in the mind is an incredibly dangerous thing, which can kill you instantly.
However, with that great risk comes great power. This power allows them to pick up a gigantic boulder and hurl it at the enemy. They have a variety of moves that are devastating. However, like the Hao-Sung people, they use no weapons or armor. They are an incredibly powerful people, and their land is known as the ‘northern lands’ to us. The Achilles Heel, as you may say, is their location in the cold Northern Lands.
It’s an incredibly cold continent, up north. It’s constantly snowing, which can dim the mind to very low stamina. Despite this, they somehow still manage to train. One thing I’ve always dreamed of doing which has never been done is going to all three continents and mastering their styles. The possibilities of doing this would be endless!”

When Cëril mentioned mastering all three styles, thoughts ran into your mind about becoming the ultimate fighter, almost a god. The possibilities really were endless.

“However, if that power came into the wrong hands, the effects could be devastating,” Cëril said.

You grimaced, thinking of the power someone would have by conquering Runescape with all three styles.

“Thank you for informing me of this, for it's all very interesting to know, however, we must go back to the topic. You said that Zamorak would probably strike at all of the major cities. Which cities would these be?”

“Well, simply thinking of course, the major cities would be: Falador, Varrock, and Ardougne.”

09-Feb-2009 18:35:46 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:09:05 by Cicobe1



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“Then where shall we start?”

“I suppose we are closest to Falador, so let’s start there.”

The two of you walked along the riverbank of Catherby, observing the young adventurers that were training in the art of fishing. When you came to a monsterous snow-covered mountain filled with wolves, you looked in the direction of Cëril.

“Shouldn’t we save our energy for saving Falador, rather than trying to run past some wolves?”

“Not to worry, I’ll just grapple onto the ledge.”

Cëril whipped out a grapple and attached it to a rope. He launched it, and it hooked onto the ledge. He climbed up the rope with ease.

“There’s no need for you to climb, as I believe you would be too heavy, and from what I’ve noticed, not too nimble,” said Cëril with a chuckle.

“It’s alright, I’ll just use the scythe. Fly!” you command.

The scythe flew up and you grasped onto its handle. It lifted you to the edge of the cliff and you landed softly on the ground. You continued on your route to Falador, by passing through the druidic city of Taverley. In the distance, you saw some glowing red and orange flames over the tall white gates of Taverley.

“Oh Saradomin no!" said Cëril.

“I don’t believe it,” you said.

“Quickly, run!” said Cëril.

You ran with full speed, to get a full view of the city of Falador. What you saw was horrifying. The walls were crumbling apart, and there were adventurers running about, being chased by Zamorak’s soldiers in their red chain mail.

The Falador White Knight castle was up in flames, and the whole city was thrown into complete chaos. Dragonkin circled the area, breathing fire upon innocent adventurers. The rotting corpses of adventurers littered the ground, their burning flesh sending a noisome stench throughout the city. The entire city smelled of a simple word. Death.


09-Feb-2009 18:40:47 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:09:31 by Cicobe1



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Chapter 2.7: The Savior

Page 55:

The entire city smelled of a simple word. Death. Blazing bodies rolled around on the floor, as the fire raged across their bodies.

They rolled around and threw their hands up in the air in desperate attempts to get somebody to save them. No one came. It was clear that the heroes of the day would have to be Cëril and you.

You stood there, watching the people die. Why couldn’t you save them? Thoughts swam through your head. You were petrified, standing in the middle of the mayhem of Falador, watching as the area was slowly being driven to chaos. Screams were heard everywhere, from the innards of every single bank, store, and building. People were running into the mines of the dwarves, hoping to find some way to protect their lives. Finally, Cëril broke the silence between you two.

With a grave expression on his face, the elf said, "It appears that we have some work to do."

“We must act quickly, before any more lives are lost. That wretched snake Zamorak must die!”

“Then let us hurry, we don’t have time to waste.”

Suddenly, there were hordes of skeletons being summoned upon the ground, moving diabolically throughout the city, knocking down walls, killing adventurers, and wreaking havoc. They started to pour into the Dwarven mines, filling up the hiding place adventurers held with their lives.

“They’re pouring into the mines! We have to save them!” Cëril exclaimed.

“No. You have to save them,” you say.

“What?! You have just as much authority as I do! You must help save these innocent civilians!

“I have my own business to take care of,” and your eyes squint, a daring look on your face.

“What are you looki…” Cëril trailed off as he looked up to meet your gaze. He stared at the figure floating above the Falador White Knight castle, staff in hand, shooting fire at the fortress.

09-Feb-2009 18:40:47 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:10:04 by Cicobe1



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"That’s…Iban!!” Cëril exclaimed.

“This is my call of duty. I must kill him, and that will show him that I mean business. You focus on getting into the Dwarven mines and helping those adventurers. I’ll save the castle and fight Iban."


Cëril dashed toward the mines, running out of the gates of Falador, since he had to take an indirect route into the mines as to not run into the skeletons. As he did so, you stood there and stared at the wreckage that Iban was creating. You dash towards the castle, hoping for the showdown with one of Zamorak's followers that you've always imagined.

“Come on! I have to run faster!”

Cëril dashed toward the mine and ran up the hill, and getting to the Dwarven Mine entrance. His athleticism allowed a spectacular performance as he practically slid down the ladder. He leapt off the ladder and landed on the ground. He dashed about in the mines, leaping over any obstacles in his way. Finally, he found the adventurers huddled up in a corner with a horde of skeletons heading their way.
“It’s time to break some bones…”

You stood there, watching the helpless fortress crumbling to the ground. The fires lit the city ablaze, the swirling inferno becoming a torrent of pain and misery. You ran inside the castle, and climbed the staircase to the second floor.

There you saw a horrific sight. There was a pair of Zamorak soldiers, clubs in hands, beating Sir Vyvin again and again. Blood was spilling out of his mouth. One eye was bruised so badly, it was turning completely red.

That eye was staring out into space, helplessly watching as he was bashed again and again across his body. His other eye was in a wonderland, helplessly moving side to side as if by instinct.

His hands were extremely swollen, and one was starting to turn a blackish tone. His legs were bleeding tremendously as well.

09-Feb-2009 18:40:47 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:10:26 by Cicobe1



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From his face spewed the most blood, where the wrinkles of his broken nose stood out. His beard was soiled in blood, as he was gasping for breath. They continued to hit him again and again, and at one of the blows, he fell on his knees to the floor.

You stood there helplessly watching as the horrific sight became a bloody mess of a killing site, petrified with fear. He gagged and started to choke, but thoughts rummaged through your head. You knew that if you saved him, the injuries would carry on for the rest of his life. He would be a mess, hardly being able to walk, and he would probably lose his job as head of Falador, since a cripple can’t rule a land.

You stood there, thinking about the situation. You finally came to a dreadful decision. Letting him die would put him out of his misery.

His bloodshot eye gazed up, looking at you. In a cold, lifeless, and raspy voice he spoke; “So….glad to see... you… Forget about... me…” He coughed up a splotch of blood, spilling out on the tiles. “You must save Falador. You…are…the savior.”

At that, the club hit him so hard in the head that his bloodshot eye popped out of its socket, hanging from its eye stalk, attached to his hollow, black eye socket. He hit the ground with a thump, and the ruler of Falador was no more.

The adventurers must be saved. Cëril ran forward and whipped out his bow. He knocked an arrow and shot it, and it became lodged in a skeleton's skull. With a shriek, it fell down on its knees and fell apart in a mess of bones.

A skeleton crept up behind him and grabbed him with full force. Its cold, lifeless body made Cëril shiver. He then knocked another arrow, and took a wild shot backwards. He made a full turn to look at the skeleton with an arrow lodged in between its eyes, and it fell helplessly to the floor. Cëril ran, and leaped on top of a stone full of iron ore.

09-Feb-2009 18:40:48 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:10:46 by Cicobe1



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He leaped to the next one, balancing on the rough surface. He leapt and made a full flip in the air, quickly knocking another arrow and shooting a skeleton square in the ribs.

He quickly leapt again, but this time with a rotation that even a car wheel couldn’t match. The spinning figure knocked about a dozen arrows and strung them on his bow. With a yell, the giant spinning figure let out a fury of arrows, shooting again and again around the area.

Three of them hit the skeletons in the ribs, while the other arrows found their ways into their limbs, with the exception of one that shot itself into the eye socket of a skeleton.

Cëril landed with a crash on top of some coal rocks, and he doubled over on the floor. Blood came rushing out from his sides, and he started to bleed like a punctured water balloon. He looked around, and saw piles of skeletons dumped on top of each other, bones scattered around the area.

The adventurers started to cheer, but soon followed up with a large gasp as they noticed his wounds. A few magicians crowded around him, and started to magically repair the damage. Cëril stood up, and the helpless civilians cheered. Their victory was short-lived however, as a chuckle emitted from the darkness.

In the dark chasm of the gate to the mining guild, a figure with yellow eyes made itself visible. It was a giant skeleton, but it was much different than the others. Its bones were a grayish tone, and it had eyes, those deep yellow eyes... Its teeth gleamed with pride and blood; the tartar making the sight all the more gruesome.

The skeleton was about ten feet tall, perhaps more. It walked back into the darkness and came back a few moments later with about thirty bodies stacked up on top of each other. “It was a wonder that such skinny bones could lift such impossible weight,” thought Cëril.

09-Feb-2009 18:40:48 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:11:10 by Cicobe1



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When Cëril started to closely examine the bodies more, he noticed that there were bite marks all over them, scattered all around the body from their heads to their legs. Some were still bleeding; others were a grey clammy color, obviously long dead.

The skeleton went back into the darkness, and screams echoed throughout the cave. It came back with a flailing body, still alive. It sank its teeth into its chest, and the man howled with pain.

The skeleton's head jerked back, and the man's heart came with it, the veins and arteries dangling from the outer surface of the heart, still attached.

The man's heart was still pumping blood, scattering droplets of red liquid spilling out across the floor. Cëril’s heart skipped a beat, as he shook his head to try to regain his thoughts. The skeleton cackled and came closer. It grasped the bars of the gate, and forced them open with much strength. It walked through the gap in the gate and toward the adventurers, laughing helplessly.

You stood there, watching the gruesome sight of Sir Vyvin dead on the floor. The Zamorakian soldiers looked in your direction, and charged. With fury, you screamed, “Sir Vyvin will be avenged!”

The soldiers charged, and you ripped the scythe out, and held it high above your head. You charged and decapitated one, easily sending a geyser of blood rushing toward the ceiling.

The other soldier was behind you, and you jerked the scythe back and caught the soldier in the ribs. The scythe easily ripped through the chain mail, and tore it apart like wet paper. You then swing your scythe into his hip, and he screams. He continues to shout, as you rip the scythe across his body. The skin rips apart, making a gory scene that will be engraved in your mind forever more.

You roar with satisfaction, and climb up the next flight of stairs.

09-Feb-2009 18:40:49 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:11:31 by Cicobe1



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You see white knights fighting off Zamorakian soldiers. The knights attacking with two handed swords were a fairly good match for those soldiers carrying swords red with the blood of those they’ve slain. You decide that they’re pretty well off, and climb up the stairs continuously until you reach the top. There you saw a black cloak, with a black hood pulled over the mysterious figure. You walk toward the figure, and it turns around to reveal the face of Zamorak’s son, Iban.

“You! You’re the one that led this slaughter!” you scream.

“Ah yes, and who might you be? I do hope that you’re not another one of those simple adventurers trying to kill me in a valiant attempt to protect his people? That amuses me, it does.”

“No, you don’t understand. I’m the Grim Reaper.”

The skeleton edged closer and closer to the cowering adventurers, Cëril standing in front. “Go away! Why must you hunt the innocent?”

The skeleton gave a cackle and said in a cold voice, “I’m not hunting the innocent. I’m hunting the guilty.”

The skeleton ran toward Cëril, and slammed its hands down in an attempt to crush him. With much athleticism, he dove out of the way.

The skeleton swiftly turned about and reached for Cëril, and caught its prey. “Now you’re mine!” it screamed as it flashed its shiny, yellow teeth. It started to close its teeth down on the left part of his chest, where his heart lay.

Cëril struggled, like a desperate animal trying to avoid testing by squirming out of its cage, but to no avail. Cëril made a desperate attempt to grab the skeleton’s skull, and he managed to push its head away. The skeleton resisted its push, edging closer and closer to his heart. The elf was strong however, and pushed with all its might. The skull started to crack, sending the echo running down the eerie tunnel.

09-Feb-2009 18:40:50 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:11:52 by Cicobe1



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Cëril’s grasp slipped, and the skeleton moved its head toward his chest again. Cëril attempted a hook punch by slamming his fist into the side of its head. The blow proved more than needed to get the skeleton off. It flew into the wall, and landed in a heap of bones.

The adventurers stared wide-eyed at Cëril, and started to cheer. Suddenly, the bones started to shake, and pull themselves together. The eyes found the sockets, the bones found their joints, and the entire skeleton pieced itself together. The skeleton stood up, and said, “You didn't think you could get rid of me that easily, I hope! There’s plenty more to come, don’t you worry…”

Iban swirled around, facing you. “The Grim Reaper! Ah, you’re the one that my father keeps speaking about. I have received a message.”

Iban paused, as if waiting for you to urge him to continue speaking. At last he spoke, "The message said 'Kill the Grim Reaper.' I'll not defy orders, so let the showdown begin!!"

He floated up in the air, staff in hand. You followed suit, holding on to the scythe. It was the battle atop the Falador castle. Iban flew forward, and pointed his staff at you.

A magic blast came flying at you, and you quickly maneuvered out of the way. You flew forward with your scythe, and slashed at his side. It was a hit! He fell to the ground, and blood started to trickle out of his side. Suddenly, his staff started to shake and laid itself on the wound. It immediately healed, and Iban was up and standing yet again.

“Come on, you didn't think it would be that easy, did you?” Iban asked menacingly.

You flew forward, and Iban flew upward. He dove head first into your back, and you came crashing down into the courtyard of the castle. A crater formed where you crashed, and you slowly got back up. Iban again made a head first dive, smashing into you yet again.

09-Feb-2009 18:40:50 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:12:16 by Cicobe1



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You winced, starting to feel the pain vibrate throughout your skeletal system. You started to crawl, and Iban hit you with a magic blast. It knocked you down to the ground, and you started to hyperventilate. The scythe started to move, and you grasped on with the little energy you had left.

When you touched the scythe, a flood of adrenaline rushed into your veins, and the fight resumed. You flew through the air, and slashed at Iban. He ducked and swung with his staff like a club. You somersaulted in the air, and slashed yet again. It grazed his cheek, and you swung again, taking advantage of the pause.

It hit him in his torso, and he fell to the floor. He hit the stairs, and rolled down. He crashed against each stair, sending a mass of a body flipping down onto the floor. Yet, the staff started to shake, and rapidly moved across his body, healing all wounds. “How the hell can I expect to defeat an enemy that heals because of that magic staff! That son of a…” you trailed off, as Iban floated toward you, and shot another magic blast at you. You spun around, and it just missed you. “Aha! I know how to beat you!” you scream.

“You can’t beat me, no one can!” Iban screamed. You flew forward, and made a rapid slash attack. Iban then started to fly away, and you chased after him. The two of you were fast as bullets, flashes in the sky.

He started to fly toward the Dwarven mine entrance, going into the mining guild. You followed, and you ended up in a dark cavern. Iban shot a magic blast, which lit up the area a bit. For a split-second, you saw a giant skeleton heading toward a group of people.

Another magic blast and you yet again avoided it. This time, you were sure of the sight. You flew toward the area, and Iban followed. A giant skeleton was headed toward a group of people. As the skeleton grabbed an elf, you recognized who it was and exclaimed, "Ceril!"

09-Feb-2009 18:40:51 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:12:34 by Cicobe1



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You flew towards it and swung your scythe. It hit the skeleton in the neck, and easily chopped off its head. Cëril then spoke and said, “You can’t do that! Whatever you do, it pieces itself back together!”

Despite his protests, the bones of the skeleton didn't move. “What the… Oh! Your scythe! You didn't only slash apart its body, you reaped its soul! Ha! The cold and lifeless wretched bag of bones!” Cëril screamed in satisfaction.

Iban started to shoot magic blasts at you, but you flew out of the way. “Give it up Iban, it’s no use. I’m too fast for any of your tactics,” you say.

“Ha! You fool! You have no clue do you? I wasn’t aiming for you. Cave in!!" screamed Iban as he flew out of the cavern and away towards the horizon.

“Hurry, this way!” you exclaim.

The adventurers followed, and you ran up the steps. The stones started to fall, and the cavern started to break down. The entire cavern rumbled, and you screamed. It was not a scream of satisfaction or bravery, it was one of fear.

The havoc was spreading, and you rushed out the adventurers. Finally, every last adventurer was gone, and a huge noise echoed throughout the city. The entire mine caved in, blocked off from every entrance. Every single ore was destroyed, and the Dwarven Mines were no more.
Cëril then said, “So much lost, yet so little achieved. However, you have earned yourself a new nickname. You deserve the title, ‘The Savior!’"

The desolate city was in pieces, but perhaps repairable, with much determination and effort. Adventurers ran out of the city, but Cëril and you stood there, observing the endless damage.

It was completely deserted. Everything had died down, and hundreds of bodies lie dead on the ground. You muttered a word under your breath.

“What?” Cëril asked.

You spoke it again, this time louder. Then finally you screamed the one word that was on your mind. Death.


09-Feb-2009 18:40:51 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:12:57 by Cicobe1



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“Death!!” you scream.

“I know it’s hard, but I’ll always be there for you. Just calm down…”

“It’s not right!! They were innocent civilians, they didn't deserve to die. It’s all because of me!

“No it’s not! Don’t say that! It's Zamorak's fault, you understand me? It’s not yours!”

“It is, and I shouldn’t have betrayed Zamorak’s word.”

“Ah, but you’re wrong. If you hadn’t betrayed him, I wouldn’t be alive right now."

You gave a ghost of a smile, and asked, “But what are we to do now?"

"The only thing we really can do. We must go save the rest of the cities, starting with the closest, being Varrock,” Cëril said.

"You don't understand. I don't want more death. They killed Sir Vyvin. It was such a gruesome sight, and they’re probably doing the same to King Roald. I just can’t stand doing this anymore.”

“But if you quit, think about how many more lives will be lost because you didn't help. You saved many lives, but you don't want to admit it. The world is a hard place, and it will always be that way.”

Suddenly, a crowd of dwarves started to form around Falador square, observing the damage. The one in front spoke. “They have destroyed our most prized possessions. They have destroyed the mines which we have long used. The city is repairable, the mines are not. All those ores are now gone, and we are all on the verge of suicide. Zamorak should die!!”

The dwarves’ faces were grim; some were even crying. Cëril then said, “We’re sorry to hear about it. I…We will try our best to repair your mines. However, now we must go to Varrock and save the world from further destruction.”

The dwarf waddled over and grasped Cëril by the shoulders, his hands trembling. His eyes started to shine and glitter due to the mass of tears built up from happiness. He said, “You should be praised with the highest of ore. If you ever repair our mines, you can have the dwarves’ trust anytime.

09-Feb-2009 18:40:52 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:13:51 by Cicobe1



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Whenever you are in need of help, call us dwarves. We will come and fight, anytime and anywhere.”

“Thank you for your promise, and I will try my best to handle my end of the bargain. For now, we must save the city of Varrock. We must be off, thank you!” Cëril said, and dashed into the sunset.

You followed and made your way to Varrock. You raced up the steps and observed the piled mess of the Dwarven Mines, set aside in a heap of rubble and stone. You ran through Barbarian Village and walked down the winding road to the city of Varrock. There, you could hear yelling from behind the city walls.

“Give me the money! Shut up, stop your screaming, and give the money!!”

You ran into the city and saw that the siege of Varrock had just begun. Zamorakian soldiers piled into the city, attacking adventurers along the way. Meanwhile, a group of soldiers were attacking the Varrock bank. The soldier had a dagger next to a banker’* neck, and she started to burst out in tears.

"Shut up! You hear me? Shut up!!” the soldier screamed, but she kept crying.

He slid a dagger through her neck and she fell to the floor in a mess of blood. You ran forward with Cëril just in time to catch the soldier behind another banker. You put him in a headlock, and screamed violently.

The soldier’s head started to turn red as he clawed at you in an attempt to be released. He made short gasps for air and fell to the floor. You leaped on top of him and grasped him by the neck. You shook his head back and forth, hitting the floor again and again. You took your scythe in your other hand and slashed him across the face.

He started to shake back and forth, screaming. You showed no mercy. You slashed again and again across his face, sending a multitude of deep scratches across it. Suddenly, a dreadful thought came into your mind. “The Grand Exchange!!”

You leaped off the dead body and ran out of the bank.

09-Feb-2009 18:53:47 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:14:15 by Cicobe1



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You ran into The Grand Exchange to see it in flames. The bankers were panicking, and hiding under the counter. The Dragonkin were circling around, and one swooped forward and grabbed a banker.

With its claws, it ripped the body in two and threw it away like it was garbage. Suddenly, its head jerked in your direction, and its eyes narrowed. It swooped down, and you leaped up. You flipped in the air and managed to land on the Dragonkin’s back.

You sat down and grasped either wing. You yanked to the left and the Dragonkin swirled around to face west. “Ha! Not so much of a strong beast now, are you? I’ll ride you like a horse, you dirty Zamorakian filth!”

It screeched trying to shake you off, but you grasped firmly onto its wings. You maneuvered it to dive down and let it land. The slow descent was tranquil for one moment, but the gruesome battlefield completely tore that thought apart.

“Quickly! Get on its back!!” you scream.

A group of bankers and adventurers climbed on its back, and you steered it upwards. Another Dragonkin followed you and rammed you from behind. The Dragonkin twirled twice in confusion and whirled around to face the opposing beast.

The opposing Dragonkin breathed a ball of fire in your direction. In a great aerial tactic, your Dragonkin spun around and spat a fireball. The ball collided with the opposing Dragonkin and it roared in pain. The burning flesh descended to the ground as the Dragonkin fell rapidly toward the ground and landed in a crash on the floor. It screeched again, and lolled its head to the side, dead.

Cëril watched as a giant Dragonkin with a group of riders flew through the air. He turned around to see a group of soldiers come running through the bank, axes high in the air. Cëril knew that he was easily outmatched and screamed, “Get out of the bank!! Get into a wide open area where you can run.

09-Feb-2009 19:07:54 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:14:41 by Cicobe1



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Run for your lives, get to another city. Do not attempt to fight, just run as fast as you can out of this dismal place.”

They did as told, in a flurry of crying and fear. Cëril ran out into Varrock square and climbed up the fountain. He found his balance and revealed a sword by pulling it out of its sheath.

He leaped forward and slashed at the soldiers. They parried it off in a spray of sparks, and Cëril tried another jumping attack. He leaped and faced his sword downward and collided with a soldier.

He crashed to the ground, and Cëril grabbed him by his legs, and he spun around as fast as possible. Soldiers charged toward the spinning pinwheel and were knocked away by a spinning corpse. Cëril then threw the body with all his might and it hit a soldier and knocked him down.

He clawed at the air, suffocating under the weight. He started to hack up blood and cough desperately. His face turned blue and he gave one last cough, and rolled over to die.

Cëril looked around and saw the mess of soldiers scattered around the floor. He looked up to see Iban flying through the air, staff in hand. He shot a magic blast toward the floor, and Cëril jumped out of the way.

Another shot hit the Varrock fountain and it exploded, sending debris and rock everywhere. Cëril dashed forward and leapt into the air, to collide head on with an unexpected magic blast.

It crushed him and launched him into the floor. He started to shake violently, the electrical blast starting to find its way into his body, freezing his nervous system. He started to spit foam into the ground, his eyes glittering with tears.

His ribs started to ache and he clutched his side in pain. His heart sped its pace threefold, and he could feel nothing. Everything started to become blurry, as his nervous system started to die down.

09-Feb-2009 19:07:54 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:15:03 by Cicobe1



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The nerves in his body had to be woken up for him to live, and there was only one way to do that. In order to reawaken his nerves, he would have to send a jolt of pain through himself to shake off the electricity.

He took out his sword and with a trembling hand, thrust it into his side. His eyes opened widely as he started to shake in pain. Blood poured its way out of the wound in his side, and Iban screamed, “Ha! The fool can’t take the pain! Killing yourself to get it over with? I expected much better from you, you pathetic excuse for an elf! How the hell did you get elected to council member with that dearth of bravery? Take it like a real man you weak, pathetic life form!”

Cëril stopped shaking, and clutched his side. He compressed in an attempt to stop the bleeding. However, it just wouldn’t stop as Iban continued his taunts. Cëril crawled along the floor, trying to make his way to the clothing store.

Iban noticed the attempt to escape and shot another magic blast. It hit Cëril in an explosion of electricity. Iban started to cackle as Cëril stabbed himself with the sword yet again to reawaken his nervous system.

The pain was almost satisfying, as if it completed his broken mess of a body. Cëril started to laugh maniacally, and continued to crawl along the dirty floor. Iban continued to shoot magic blasts as Cëril started out into the nighttime sky, stuck in a daydream of torment. He made it to the doors of the clothing shop and crawled inside.

“First mistake in a one on one battle, never isolate yourself in a small area, especially against someone like me,” Iban said as he swooped down toward the entrance of the clothing shop.

Cëril made a desperate grasp for a shirt and he compressed it down on the wound to stop the bleeding. Iban came from behind, held his staff high in the air, and prepared to shoot the magic blast that could kill Cëril once and for all.

09-Feb-2009 19:07:55 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:15:22 by Cicobe1



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You steered the Dragonkin in the direction of the lumber mill and landed, allowing all the adventurers to run off. They scattered and ran in the direction of the Exam Center, hopefully avoiding the dismal city once and for all.

You took off with the Dragonkin, and scanned the city for any mass damage. You saw Iban with a staff pointed at an elf, and when you recognized the face you exclaimed, "Ceril!!

The Dragonkin swooped down, and Cëril looked up with a dirty and defeated face. He stared at the face of Iban, with his staff pointed at him. Suddenly, a pair of black claws grasped him and they took off. Cëril crawled outside to see the sight of a Dragonkin grabbing Iban by his cloak, violently shaking him back and forth.
“Let me go you stupid beast!”

Iban shot a magic blast and it hit the beast in the stomach. It screeched and collapsed, flapping its wings in a desperate attempt to stop its fall. It was hurtling toward a tall, sharp rock remaining from the Varrock square statue.

You leapt off the Dragonkin as it crashed in a mess of rock, green blood oozing from under the rocks. You look in the direction of Iban, who landed softly on the ground.
He looked in your direction and said, “So we meet again.”

“Unfortunately,” you say through gritted teeth. “We won’t meet again.”

You leapt forward, scythe in hand, trying to decapitate him. He ducked and swung his staff to hit you in the side. You doubled over on the floor, the pain in your ribs excruciating.

You recovered, stood up, ran forward, and tried a very risky move. You threw your scythe in a desperate attempt to hit him. The scythe swirled in the air, and Iban caught it in his hand. “Ha!! You fool!! You dare throw your scythe? Now I have total control, and I will reap you and put an end to your pitiful life!”

He dropped the staff and ran forward with the scythe, and slashed down onto the pavement.

09-Feb-2009 19:07:55 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:15:46 by Cicobe1



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You somersaulted out of the way and grasped Iban’s staff. You pointed it in his direction and said, “Prepare to die!”

He ran forward with the scythe and made a sideways chop. You leapt over it and shot a magic blast. He dove out of the way and jumped upwards, and dove down with the blade of the scythe facing your skull.

You pointed the staff upward and shot a magic blast. It hit the metal blade of the scythe, and electricity raged through the blade. Iban accidentally clutched the handle when he fell, screamed with horror, and dropped the scythe. He fell to the floor, grasping his wounded hand. You approached him and kicked him in the ribs. He doubled over, but you weren’t done yet.

You threw the staff away and stomped your foot into his face. A crunch was heard, and his nose was shattered to smithereens.

He started to cry, but you wouldn’t let up. You kicked him continuously in the side, and he rolled over like a helpless animal, clutching his side and crying. You jumped on top of him, and started to release a flurry of punches upon his face.

The skin on his face rippled with each blow, bruising his face. His cheeks started to shatter as the broken body was continuously beaten. Suddenly, a loud scream was heard in the distance, and it came from the Varrock castle.

You dashed forward, and ran through the doors, into the room of King Roald. The sight of the castle was haunting: You saw ghosts scattered around the area, looming around and destroying anything in their path. In the room of King Roald, you saw the king sitting on his throne, a demonic look on his face.

He flashed a menacing smile, and his eyes glowed with a very odd tone. His eyes were completely yellow, and his face was a grayish color. He was possessed!

He walked toward you, and slid a dagger out of his robe. He slashed at you, but you leaped out of the way. “I need my scythe!!” you exclaimed.

09-Feb-2009 19:07:56 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:16:48 by Cicobe1



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Suddenly, the scythe from outside started to vibrate, and it flew in the direction of the castle. It maneuvered through the rooms and found its way into your hand. “Thank Zamorak for this scythe, it’s saved my life so many times,” you say to yourself.

Suddenly, your thoughts were cut short when you felt electrical force surge through your body. You screamed, and the scythe started to shake violently. King Roald stood there watching, almost enjoying the pain you were undergoing.

You then started to rise in the air, defying the laws of gravity. You continued shaking, and everything became a blur before your eyes. The scythe continued to shake even more violently, and an immense flash of light occurred. You landed on the ground, and stood there, as if nothing happened. You felt a flash of amnesia for a moment, but your memory was soon restored.

The scythe seemed to be glowing with a shade of blue, and you felt more powerful than you did before. As if on instinct, you pointed the scythe forward, and smiled. A magic blast emitted from the scythe and it hit King Roald. He flew into the wall, and landed with a crash on his throne. He stood back up and gave a fierce look. He charged with a flashing dagger, and slashed. You held the scythe upward, and deflected the blow. You swung your scythe forward, and he knocked it to the side with a strong dagger.

“I can now use magic with the scythe!” you exclaim happily. The celebration was cut short when King Roald leapt on top of you, and caught you off guard.

“What can I do?! I can’t let him kill me, but I also can’t fight, else I might kill him. It seems that there is only one choice. It’s my life or his. The decision is easy,” you say to yourself.

You ran forward and flipped in the air, sending a flurry of magic blasts throughout the area. They hit a multitude of ghosts, and they vanished instantly.

09-Feb-2009 19:07:57 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:17:11 by Cicobe1



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One hit King Roald, and he crashed to the floor and hit his head against the wall. “I’m sorry…” you say, as you lift the scythe above your head. You slash forward, and his head rolls off, followed by a geyser of blood, hitting the ceiling and leaking all the way to the opposite wall.

You run out of the castle and courtyard to rush outside, expecting to see the sight of Iban, dead. What you saw angered you tremendously. Iban was gone, and so was the staff you threw. “The rat flew away…” you say to yourself. You walk with your head down toward the clothing shop, and see the sight of a bloody Cëril. “No!!"

You shook him back and forth, but he wouldn’t wake up. You felt his wrist, and there was a pulse. However, the amount of blood coming out of his body wouldn’t last him very long. You picked him up and found him to be surprisingly heavy. You had to get him to the nearest city, and fast.

You dashed along the broken city of Varrock, trying to get to Lumbridge. The experience was incredibly tiring, with the weight of Cëril in your hands. You leaped over the fence and ran forward. You crossed the bridge and made it to the city of Lumbridge. Adventurers looked your way and saw the bloody mess of Cëril. One stepped out and said, “Oh my, is he alright?”

“No, he’s not. He needs healing, now!"

The man stepped forward and took out some runestones. He smashed them together and they crumbled on the floor. A glowing orb formed in his hands, and he placed it against Cëril's chest. It sank into his chest, and all the wounds healed. His eyes fluttered open, and his gaze met yours. "Yes! You’re fine! I…I thought I might lose you,” you say.

“Well, the debt is paid off,” Cëril said and smiled. “I saved your life, now you saved mine. Thank you.”

You exchanged smiles, and he stood up with little trouble. “What happened in Varrock?” Cëril asked.

09-Feb-2009 19:07:57 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:17:34 by Cicobe1



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You then spoke of the entire battle, emphasizing on what happened to your scythe and how you had to kill King Roald.

Cëril’s face was grave. “What’s wrong?” you ask.

“If all this chaos has occurred when we’ve done two cities, imagine what’s happening in Ardougne.”

You gave a smile and said, “Well, as long as we’re together, we can accomplish anything,” you say, and turn to the healer. “Thank you for your help, but we must be off.”

At that, Cëril and you dashed into the horizon, preparing for one last battle to conquer.


09-Feb-2009 19:07:57 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:17:54 by Cicobe1



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Chapter 2.9: The Battle of Ardougne

Page 74:

Cëril and you dashed into the horizon, heading into Ardougne. Some short time later, you arrived at Catherby. You followed the bend of the river to the Legend’s Guild, and turned right. There you came to the small mine with some bears circling the area. In the sky, a flash of red fluttered in the corner of your eye.

You look to the right to see a Dragonkin clutching a human in its claws and throwing it into a building. It crashed into the wall and fell like a helpless puppet into the floor. You ran into the city and were horrified by what you saw. Possessed adventurers roamed the city, looking for some kind of prey they can feast their now yellow fangs upon. They loomed about, with the ominous golden eyes that would narrow when they chewed at your skin…

You walked forward, observing the damage. The market stalls were thrown over, and the buildings were crumbling. The entire city was in complete terror. There, in the skies was Iban. He had a staff in hand, and he had control over all the adventurers. He was a puppet master.

He soared above the sky, and you could envision his strings in hand, toying with those adventurers below them. Ordering them to kill and to destroy…

“It appears that the only way we’ll be able to save Ardougne is to kill these people…”

“No! We can’t do that!”

“What other choices do we have?”

“There are none…” you say as you shake your head. “Whatever it takes to save the city.”

You grasp your scythe and shoot a magic blast at the gray-skinned zombie. He froze and landed with a soft thump. You ran forward and slashed at the frail zombies, chopping at their clammy skin. Their skin started to rot, making a pungent smell run throughout the city.

You slashed your way through the masses of undead bodies, until one jumped on top of you. It clasped its hand over your mouth and you started to shake violently.

09-Feb-2009 19:07:58 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:18:33 by Cicobe1



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You couldn’t breathe, and you felt as if your lungs were about to burst. The overwhelming pressure started to take control of your body. You thrashed about, trying to cease the immense pressure that was being released upon your throat.

Everything became clockwork, and one pain triggered another. Everything started to blur before your eyes, with the exception of the colorful spots circling around your line of vision. You clawed at the mass of rotting flesh before you, but the noisome smell became too powerful, and you fell back down to the floor. The zombie had wide eyes, with a few remains of hair left on its skull.

It had a greenish skin tone, with some rags for clothes. The nose was completely rotted off, as if the “zombification” had taken place a while ago. Two narrow holes for nostrils were all the zombie had, and to go along with the gruesome face was a mouth that looked just as bad.

The lips were ripped in numerous places, and the teeth were rotten. The stench of its rotting skin was unbearable, and you sank back down to the floor. You felt the strength giving away; the life being sapped out of your open hands. The strength started to give away at a rapid pace, and you continued to shake on the ground due to the lack of breath. The zombie screeched and clutched its head in two rotten hands. It fell back; its yellow teeth shining in the dusk sky.

An arrow was lodged in its skull. Cëril looked at you as you looked back. He smiled and said, “Now the debt is uneven again. You owe me now."

You nod and turn the other way. You rip out your scythe and slash to the sides, cutting the zombies in half. The torsos were lined up in front of you, and the blood started to flood through the city streets. You flew upwards and slashed down upon their heads. The heads of those killed littered the city streets; their open eyes shining in the soft daylight.

09-Feb-2009 19:07:59 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:18:52 by Cicobe1



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The battle was far from over. You drive the wooden end of the staff into a zombie, and it struck him with tremendous force. He winced and fell back, and landed on the floor. He looked up to meet your gaze, but your eyes would reveal not the slightest bit of mercy for the pitiful fool.

You slashed across his face, and gashes of green blood made their way along the cracks. You kicked him in the stomach, and continued to pummel him with punches. Suddenly, a thought jolted through your mind. These are real people!!

The desperate eyes of an adventurer stared into your eyes. They silently pleaded to be helped; saved from the horrid curse. The yellow eyes of the helpless adventurer continued to stare into your eyes. You continued to shower punches upon the inferior being, as if it would relieve its pain. Blow after blow, guilt continued to pour through your mind.

There was no other choice; it must be done. You lifted your scythe in the air, watching as the fading sun gleamed upon the metal blade. It was madness. The eyes looked helplessly at you, as if there was nothing to be done about the zombie’s destiny. The thought continued to swim through your mind.

“These are real people…”

There was nothing to be done. The eyes reflected something familiar… Something distant. The yellow eyes…

They reflected symbolism somehow. They… reflected something on your past. But what could it be?

You hastily thought about the past events, about what those piercing eyes could symbolize. At last, the piece to the incomplete thought thundered throughout your mind. The flashback then occurred.

The black robes covered your bony body. You were in your Reaper form, cackling in the daylight. The entire desert of Al Kharid was on fire, and you said, “For whom the bell tolls!”

Sitting in front of you was a transparent creature, with deep, yellow eyes…

09-Feb-2009 19:17:50 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:19:13 by Cicobe1



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Page 77:

You stared at the helpless zombie in front of you, watching the yellow eyes. The idea finally became obvious. They were the eyes of the helpless.

The eyes symbolized the helpless, tortured souls that you’ve reaped. The most similarity in the eyes was easily revealed on the first soul that you reaped.

That dark day in The Death Zone… The helpless creature sitting before you as you ruthlessly reaped its soul...

The similar yellow eyes looked into yours. Although you weren’t in Reaper form, it still felt… wrong.

Thoughts of the eyes continued to rage through your mind, and you continued to become mesmerized in the yellow eyes. They reflected your dark past, and they never ceased to stare continuously into your eyes. There was only one way to end it.

You proceeded to lift the scythe, and slashed it down upon the zombie. It became lodged in the zombie’s rotting skull, and the zombie shrieked. It seemed to look upwards into the sky with wide, blooming eyes. The eyes were what defined the tortured soul of the zombie. Helplessness.

You had to move on. You continued to run through the city streets, searching for Iban. He had to be found. He had to be destroyed. He had to be killed.

You leaped up and released a shower of blows upon another zombie’s skull. It fell to the floor, the contents of its inner skull falling out as well. You continued to run forward, searching for any oddities in the city, remembering the sight of the dying Sir Vyvin.

Or the thought of the dead body of King Roald. There was nothing else to think about. Death was all that had been occurring the past few days. Death was the word that echoed through your mind. Helplessness defined the tortured zombie and soul, but one word was enough to define you as well. Death was what you were made of. Death is what kept you powered. Death is what keeps the world spinning.

09-Feb-2009 19:17:53 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:19:37 by Cicobe1



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For is there life without death? Is there death without life? The enigma of death was so easily questionable, but there were many answers. There was some sort of purpose to death, but what could it be? Death always seemed to intrigue you. Death was what defined you. Death was what you were made of. Death was what powered you. You were death.

You were the one that brought death to the lands; cleansing the littered ground of The Death Zone with the Death Scythe. It seemed that everything revolved around death. You were the harbinger of death.

The symbolization hit you like a thunderbolt, as the mental games started to take place. What was happening?

Was it more symbolization? Perhaps you were going mad! Cëril had done the same, and was driven to insanity before running away. You couldn’t give up this power. Just the mere thought of giving up this power was terrifying. But were you misusing it? Were you actually doing it for the good of the people? After all, you did kill innocent civilians.

But there was no other way… No other way to free those souls. It was sheer torture just to watch them go through such a terrible fate. It was even worse to end it.
The pain of others somehow… soothed you. But common sense started to kick in when you realized what you were doing.

You were standing dead still on the middle of the bridge to the East Ardougne castle. It was no longer a test of physical standards. It was a mental game.

How could you be so foolish? Perhaps Cëril wasn’t driven to insanity. Likewise, his common sense kicked in. He was a tool.

Why would Zamorak ever decide to betray you? When you were on the top of Falador castle in the showdown with Iban, he had mentioned something about a message. The message had said something about killing The Grim Reaper. But why would Zamorak ever send a message to kill his loyal Reaper?

09-Feb-2009 19:17:54 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:19:59 by Cicobe1



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He sent the message before you ran away! So how would it be possible that he sent it as an act of retrieval? It couldn’t be! Zamorak was trying to get rid of you from the first moment! But why would he bother getting you in the first place?

The enigma of the situation continued to leave you puzzled, but you wouldn’t give up. Zamorak had a certain hatred for Saradomin, especially when you mentioned his name. Why would he hate Saradomin so much?

Perhaps the only reason for this hatred was to bring death! Yes! He was in a conflict with Saradomin and wanted to use you as a tool in his bidding and wars! That’s why Cëril ran away; he noticed the truth! You had finally realized what was going on here, and choleric thoughts then entered your storming mind.

Still, it doesn’t make sense in why Zamorak would want to kill you. That’s completely contradictory to what you just thought of. Why would he try to kill you if he was using you as a tool? Perhaps he noticed betrayal in your attitude…

He predicted correctly. Perhaps he didn't trust you with this kind of power, and knew that you were going to become a monster, roaming around the city streets and killing off anyone who dares to stumble on your path. It all made sense now!

Zamorak hired you as a potential reaper, noticing what you had done in the past, especially in your first reaping in The Death Zone. He wanted you as a tool in his conflicts with Saradomin, and he then wanted to test you… By setting up the trap for you with Count Draynor!

You proved your superiority, but by coincidence met the elf who was in bad relations with Zamorak. Perhaps he noticed a weakness in your skill… You did spare Cëril’s life in the manor, so Zamorak noticed!!

He sent the message to Iban to kill you because of your unworthiness. The flaw of sympathy was simply not acceptable for being a Reaper.

09-Feb-2009 19:17:54 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:20:21 by Cicobe1



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Then, Zamorak noticed that you were with Cëril, and seized the opportunity to capture him. Zamorak then gave you one last chance to prove yourself as a Reaper. He gave you the option to prove yourself yet again, by telling you about Cëril’s sad history, trying to portray him as a fool.

He tried to avoid pity and sympathy, your one noticeable weakness. You then pushed away the opportunity, and defied Zamorak.

You tried to save Cëril, and Zamorak went mad. He was probably afraid that your potential would go to waste, or you would fully betray him and join his mortal enemy, Saradomin!

Perhaps that could be a future plan... Would Saradomin resolve these issues? They would surely be able to fight off Zamorak’s soldiers.

That could be a future plan! Once all this madness was over, you could request Saradomin’s assistance in the wars!

That was perfect! Now, Zamorak sent his soldiers over the land not in an act of madness or anger, but one of retrieval! He was trying to bring back the mass amount of potential deep inside you. Finally, the everlasting enigma had been solved!

After all this astonishment and deep thinking, you hadn’t even noticed you were sprawled out on the floor. You stood up, and felt the dull ache of the thumping inside your skull. The headache thundered through your mind, probably from the amount of thinking that was occurring. The deep thought had nearly sent you into a trance…

You stood up, still trying to revive from the hypnotizing deep sleep. After some standing and walking around, you managed to wake up your senses. No longer was it time for thinking, it was time for action!

You dashed forward into the castle, and some zombies guarded the door. No longer would you live in fear of death! Death made up the world, death was what fueled you. You were Death.

09-Feb-2009 19:18:02 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:20:43 by Cicobe1



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You slashed the scythe forward, and the zombies ducked out of the way. You then remembered about the recent power you had gained from the battle in Varrock. You took a few paces backward, and shot a magical blast of electric energy.

The blast hit the zombies with a huge bang, sending body parts raining upon the grounds of the castle. The door had been blasted open as well, which had brought a mess of splinters on the floor. You ran forward and made your way through the castle. King Lathas must be saved.

You blasted open the doors of the room of King Lathas. Iban was standing there, holding his staff up to his neck. The frightened King Lathas sat there helplessly horrified. Iban turned your way and snarled. This was the epic showdown.

He smiled in a devious manner, and leapt in your direction. He shot a magic blast, and you followed suit. The electrical blasts of energy collided in an electrical storm.

Branches of electricity of the storm shot in random places around the room, nearly hitting King Lathas. The incredible show of light was blinding, but it wouldn’t deter you from defeating Iban. The show of dazing lights had suddenly blinded you. You felt a stinging pain in your back, and you went flying into the wall.

The spot was pulsing with intense pain, and you cautiously stood up. You looked at Iban’s staff, the electricity still raging over the top.

In a spectacular spin in the air, you flipped over Iban and pointed your staff backwards. The blast collided with Iban, and his staff went flying into the air. The twirling staff hit the wall, and King Lathas was the first to get to it. He then said, “I’ll hold on to it for now, but I just want you to do one thing. Kill him.”

You nodded your head in approval, and ran toward Iban with a face of anger. He started to cower against the wall in fear, but there would be no mercy.

09-Feb-2009 19:18:02 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:21:06 by Cicobe1



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“Yes, I suppose so,” you responded.

“It’s time to end this, right here, right now. No one leaves the room until one of us is dead. I have no staff, you have no scythe. We will fight to the death with what we were blessed with – our bare hands. There are no weapons, and no armor. The only way to decide this battle is with our bare hands. Get your hands up; only one is walking out of here alive.”

He ran forward and leaped on top of you, sending you tumbling to the floor. He released a flurry of punches on your body, and you helplessly gasped for breath. He had the upper hand.

The punches continued to rain upon your body as your chest started to rapidly swell. The pain inflicted left many bruises upon your body. You attempted to get up, and got to about eye level with Iban. He smiled and put his arm in ready position.

He released a punch fueled by anger and hatred, as you fell back onto the floor. Everything started to go dark before your eyes, as the punches continued to inflict pain. Suddenly, the cacophony of cracking ribs echoed throughout the room as a sudden jolt of pain thundered through your torso.

You clutched your side in pain, but Iban would continue to relinquish years of hatred. The pain never stopped.

Iban roared and released another punch into your skull. A sudden blur in your vision occurred, as your head shook from the blow. You stared at the ceiling, your gaping mouth an endless chasm of the portrayal of pain.

The severe damage to your ribs never ceased to make itself noticeable. Your breathing became a pant, and your eyes started to stare into the dull void of space. Iban stood up and looked down at you.

He was now the superior. You were reduced to nothing but a mere inferior compared to the almighty Iban. Despite the apparent defeat, adrenaline continued to course through your veins, fueling energy to the multiple parts of your body. It seemed to stop the pain a bit, easing your crushed ribs.

09-Feb-2009 19:18:08 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:21:57 by Cicobe1



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With much effort, you managed to get into a kneeling position. With your head down in fake shame you said, “You can hurt me, injure me, or kill me, but one thing will always remain. The veracity of the situation is: I will never give up!!”

You stood up on your knees in a valiant effort to take advantage of the ghost of a chance that you still had to win. You seized the opportunity of Iban’s back turned, and ran forward.

The pain continued to make itself noticeable, but the determination set on your mind sheathed it all. You ran forward with your arm extended, and smashed into Iban’s face.

He hit the ground with a thump, relinquishing a mess of blood. He revealed his face, and the cheekbones were completely shattered. Blood continued to trickle out of his nose, and his gaping mouth was the finishing touch. He was unconscious.

You then said to King Lathas, “Give me the scythe, I’ve won!"

King Lathas then proceeded to stand up in the eerie silence, and walked in your direction. He handed you the scythe in trembling hands, and you firmly grasped it. The madness would end here.

You approached the broken, unconscious body of Iban with your scythe held high in the air. You cackled with madness, as the fuel given off by the scythe started to take control. None of it mattered anymore. You were not a merciless fool anymore. You were Death.

You approached slowly, and had gotten to the bloody heap of his body when you lifted your scythe upwards. The glimmering metal of the scythe shimmered from the sunlight given off by the window nearby.

With all of your strength, you slashed down onto the broken body. It smoothly cut through as Iban suddenly woke up. His eyes were very strange; the sclera of the eyes had been turned completely black.

09-Feb-2009 19:18:08 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:22:20 by Cicobe1



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His eyes were now an enigma of torture and evil; the darkness of the eyes protruding the radiant light of the room.

Iban looked much different than before. He clutched his head and shrieked like a banshee, revealing a tongue not unlike a snake’s. It slithered out and back into his mouth fast as a dart, as he continued to scream.

His eyes were completely black, shrouded in darkness and evil. His mouth had suddenly gotten much bigger, and to go along with it was the snake-like tongue. His face was now a pallid tone, and the veins of his face now bulged. It was an exorcism.

A grayish smoke started to maneuver out of his mouth. He lifted his hand and grasped his upper jaw. He yanked it back fully; bending his neck to impossible directions.

Black smoke continued to pour out of his mouth, as it started to come out of his nose and ears. His eyes then popped out of there sockets, rolling on the floor. The smoke then started to flow out of his empty eye sockets. In fear, you slashed across his neck, and he exploded in blood.

His head came rolling off, his mouth still gaped open in exclamation. His body started to shake violently as the smoke continued to pour out of his systems. At long last, everything was still.

The horror of the moment still lingered in the dimmed room. King Lathas sat in a crouch, horrified. You stood there, trying not to show your incredible fear on the exterior. You walked over to King Lathas.

With wide eyes he said, “You’re incredible… I can’t believe he’s finally dead. That was quite a horrendous moment. Never in my reign have I ever seen something as daunting as those last few moments.”

You extended your arm out to help King Lathas to a standing position. He grasped your hand and pulled. As he was yanked upwards, a roaring flash of pain struck your ribs.

09-Feb-2009 19:18:09 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:22:45 by Cicobe1



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You doubled over and fell to the floor, hearing the snap echo loudly throughout the room. The pain continued to surge through your body as King Lathas managed to make it to a standing position. You saw his horrified eyes, and everything started to go black. His yelling was undecipherable. A sudden flash of blue light flashed before your eyes, and you knew no more.


09-Feb-2009 19:18:10 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:23:05 by Cicobe1



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Chapter 2.10: A Change of Plan

Page 86:

The miraculous show of lights danced before your eyes, creating an aura of beauty and magnificence. Despite being unconscious, there was still an amazingly blinding show of lights ever since the fall. You were unconscious for what seemed like hours. The odd part was that you knew you were unconscious…

You stood in the middle of a spectacular show of lights, walking around and observing the scenery. You walked forward; the echo of your footsteps echoed throughout the area. The farther forward you walked, the brighter the lights got. At one point, it seemed as if the light was blinding. As you walked further and further into the mysterious light, you could hear voices in the distance.

“No, it was the right thing to do.”

“Are you sure, my liege?”

“Yes, I’m adamant about it. Do remember that it the decision is in the hands of its holder,” the voice boomed.

The voice seemed to have an exceptionally voice, and could be heard from miles away.

You trotted forward into the light, trying to observe your ominous surroundings. At last, everything went white.

“I think he’s waking up!”

Your eyelids slowly opened, and you started to make sense of the blur of your background. You were in a crystal kingdom, with transparent stalagmites scattered around the area. The floor was pure crystal as well, shining with true beauty.

In fact, just about the whole place was made out of silver crystal. It was quite a large room, and at the large end was a throne. It was a masterfully crafted one; intricately carved designs of the Saradomin symbol were encrypted along the border.

In the throne sat an elderly man, one with a beard that was neatly combed that stretched down to his waist. He was in a blue robe that was similar to a clean ocean tone. In the middle of the robe was the Saradomin symbol.

09-Feb-2009 19:18:10 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:23:40 by Cicobe1



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“Hello,” said the man.

“Erm… hello,” you said.

“You suffered quite an injury there, I must say.”

“Yes, it was from the massive battle of… oh! I’ve forgotten completely about the battle! I have so many questions concerning…” you said you said as you felt your ribs, and you were surprised to see that they were completely healed.

“Yes, your ribs have been healed. As for your questions, save them, everything will be explained later.”

“I have one that I’d like to have asked right now, please.”

“Fine then, do make it quick.”

“Who are you?”

“Why, my young fellow, I am Saradomin.”

You opened your jaw in awe as you stared at the amazing sight of Saradomin before you. His majestic power was simply… breathtaking.

“I have watched you in your past adventures.”

“You… you have?”

“Yes, and I also know that you have found out the truth of Zamorak’s intentions. You have solved it correctly. Zamorak has been using you all along. Now, I’m fairly sure that you’re sick of the amount of chaos that has been going on. Perhaps there is a way to escape this madness."

"What do you mean? How?”

“I’ll tell you the truth. When Zamorak first met you, he mentioned that he wasn’t on good terms with me. He certainly is correct. Although Zamorak and I have been fighting for millenniums, the war is at its peak. While he raided the world of Gielinor trying to find you, he has also killed off many of my innocent people. In the city of Falador, he has slain many White Knights of mine. I shall tolerate it no longer. War is inevitable.”

“No! I’m tired of war! It’s been much too violent already! This should come to a stop. The chaos… the mayhem… everything has completely tore apart what I once knew. I’m a different person now due to the past events that have taken place.”

“I am sorry; you have my deepest apologies. I have need of you, however.”

“What? So you can use me as Zamorak did? Am I going to become your personal ‘tool’ so you may roam the land?” you asked.

09-Feb-2009 19:21:25 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:24:06 by Cicobe1



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“I am not the same person Zamorak is. He is my polar opposite, and you should never compare me to the likes of him! I ask that you listen to my offer before you reject it like a fool.”

“Ah, so you’re calling me a fool now. Now you’ve really given me a reason to leave.”

“No!" he boomed. As you began to walk away, he stood up in a valiant manner. “You shall not leave! Guards, block the doors.”

You look in his direction with a sneer. “And you say that I shouldn’t compare you to Zamorak? You’re following in his actions! You’re threatening me to gain my abilities.”

“I’ve already warned you. Don’t ever compare me to Zamorak.”

“You’re doing it again!” you tease, followed by a sinister smile. “Zamorak said the same thing, except about you. I’m done being involved with gods.”

“Don’t… you… dare… leave,” said Saradomin, panting softly after each word. “You are a critical role in the future. You may be able to save all of Runescape.”

You whirled around, intrigued by his last sentence. “It’s not Runescape, it’s Gielinor. Cëril has taught me of the world of Runescape.”

“Ah, you don’t understand. I already know of the other continents existing in Runescape. I know what I said, and I stand by it. All of Runescape is in mortal danger.”

“What kind of danger?”

“Danger of the likes that the world has never seen before. As I said before, war is inevitable. There’s no doubt about it – there is going to be a major clash between Zamorak and I. This is going to be the war of all wars; one that may bring destruction to all the land. I need your help to win this war.”

“I’m listening.”

“We, the Saradomin army, will not be able to take on all of Zamorak’s forces by ourselves. He has his army, the Dragonkins, as well as all of the Undead world to bring as his minions. Not to mention The Death Zone. He has threatened to bring all the souls reaped in The Death Zone to bring destruction upon the world. Only you can stop this madness.”

09-Feb-2009 19:21:25 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:24:25 by Cicobe1



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“But how? If I’m to accept an offer, I must know how I can help.”

“As I said, our army will not be able to take on his combined forces. We must make a combination as well. I ask that you become my ambassador. If you choose to accept, you will take on the challenge of gaining the allies we need to win the war.
From what I know, there are about five major races that we can gain as allies. They are: gnomes, barbarians, werewolves, elves, and dwarves. While it may seem easy, it isn’t.
To pledge an entire race in a war is an enormous commitment. They may challenge you, ask you to aid them in something, or even torture you in order to prove your worthiness. This is not an easy task, but you are rewarded with your name being written down in history as 'The Savior of Runescape.' Do you accept?”

You stood there, pondering. There really wasn’t much of a choice. It was either join Saradomin, or be crushed alone by Zamorak. By allying with such a force, it may provide protection from being attacked.

“I gladly accept your offer.”

“Thank you! You are most wise. I shall provide you with a gift for your generosity.”

At that, Saradomin lifted his hand in the air; palm wide open. Suddenly, a bolt of lighting darted down from the crystal ceiling and landed in Saradomin’s open palm in a small orb.

He walked in your direction, and signaled for you to open your hand. You opened your palm in spite of your slight fear. He then clutched the magical orb of energy and placed it in your hand.

It seemed to spin rapidly, and started to dissolve. The magical sparkles that emitted from the orb started to descend slowly into your hand. At last, all of it had dissolved into your hand. You gazed into your hand, and saw the mark of Saradomin engraved into the soft flesh of your palm.

“What did you do to me?!” you screamed.

“Calm yourself. I must do one final task.”

Saradomin laid his bony hand in yours, and grasped it softly.

09-Feb-2009 19:21:26 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:24:45 by Cicobe1



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He then chanted:
“Let thy gift become your friend,
And allow your power to never end.
For the amount of power in your hands
Will be enough to conquer all the lands.
Now, thy have been brought something new,
Something that all other enemies shall rue.
What I have laid in your hands is something you shall like,
For I have given you the Saradomin Strike.”

At last, the blue glow in his eyes had ceased, and he returned to his formal state. He gave a soft smile; his beady eyes twinkled in the magical castle.

“You now have the power of the Saradomin Strike. This is a power that will allow you to dominate over your enemies; you have unimaginable power in your hands. All you must do to activate it is yell ‘Saradomin Strike.’

By doing this, a monstrous blue orb of energy shall emit from the symbol in your hand, and can annihilate anything within a three mile radius.

However, with great power comes great responsibility. This can take a heavy toll upon the body. This will greatly fatigue you, perhaps even to the point of unconsciousness. Only use this under the most intense conditions, as you have been warned of its consequences."

“Thank you, I haven’t very much to say; I’m at a loss of words.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

“I must say, this is a fantastic gift. I would, however, like to ask a few questions.”

“Sure, ask me anything.”

“Well… what happened in the battle of Ardougne after I passed out?”

“When you passed out, you most likely experienced a flash of blue light beforehand. That was my presence, and I sent my soldiers into the war. They finished off the battle with ease.”

“I see... Oh! Where is Cëril? I haven’t seen him since the beginning of the battle."

Saradomin turned his head, looking down at the floor as if he was on the cusp of crying. He finally looked up and said, “Alas, you have my deepest apologies.”

09-Feb-2009 19:21:26 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:25:07 by Cicobe1



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“What?! What are you talking about?” you asked in fury, with a hint of worry.

“I was watching you from the start, running into the battle. When you ran forward, and started to kill the zombies, Cëril was watching.”


“Well… a zombie crept up behind him and he was knocked down to the floor. He was giving quite a struggle.”

“So what happened?!” you asked angrily, tears starting to maneuver down your face. “What the hell happened?! Tell me!!”

“I… don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?! Damn it! I want an answer now!"

"I’m sorry. There was so much death over the course of the battle that I was focused on you the whole time.”

“But you knew! You knew that Cëril was my comrade! You knew all along…” At that, you burst into tears. “Tell me… please tell me. Tell me that Cëril is alive.”

“I can’t promise you that… I’m sorry.”

“No! He’s alive, I know it! He escaped!”

“He may have… I just don’t know. It’s beyond my reach at this point.”

“I swear on my name that I will find him. I will find him, no matter what it takes.”

“Alas, I cannot let you. You have already accepted my terms. War is on the brink of occurring! You must fulfill your duty to save Runescape, not search the continent for a friend!”

“But I have to!” you pleaded.

“I’ll come to an agreement. If you manage to gain the trusts of all mentioned races, I will send out my army across the land to search for Cëril. I promise.”

“Thank you…” you said gratefully. "That's all I could ever ask for."

“Well, time for you to complete the first half of the bargain!”

“Very well then, off I go!” you said as you ran out of the crystal kingdom, thinking about where in Runescape Cëril could be.



09-Feb-2009 19:21:27 - Last edited on 19-Feb-2009 19:25:54 by Cicobe1



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Chapter 3.1: The Mallard.

Page 92:

The crystal kingdom shimmered in the daytime sky. The dazzling sun gleamed in contrast to the cyan sky. Bulbous clouds hovered over the magnificent silver castle. However, the plethora of heat waves emitting from the sun made perspiration seep through pores in your skin. You stood on shimmering sand that blew with the light spring breeze.

When you looked back to take another look at the crystal kingdom, it was gone. It simply vanished into thin air!

Of course, this sudden change would not deter you from your path. Scrutinizing the surrounding area brought the sense of safeness of location; you were located in Al Kharid, a few yards away from the gem stall. You stood there, pondering. What race should be persuaded to join the army first? Gnomes, barbarians, dwarves, werewolves, and elves were the ones to choose from, but whom?

Gnomes would be too far away from your current location, which would clearly take them out of the picture for now. The barbarians would be ideal, but coming off such an intense battle wouldn’t be worth the probable battle persuasion needed. Werewolves would require even further persuasion: First to dissuade them from the ways of Zamorak, then to persuade them out of their hopeful neutrality to join The Alliance. The elves would probably be ideal, but their location is too distant as well. Therefore, that leaves the dwarves. Words echoed throughout your mind, as if your conscience was trying to tell you something. Suddenly, the words were brought to mind:

You stand there, watching the diminutive dwarf peer up to meet your intense gaze. Trails of tears line his face, due to the loss of the Dwarven mines. The front dwarf steps up and says, “They have destroyed our most prized possessions. They have destroyed the mines in which we have long used. The city is repairable, the mines are not. All those ores are now gone, and we are all on the verge of suicide. Zamorak should die!!”

09-Feb-2009 19:21:28 - Last edited on 09-Mar-2009 22:08:17 by Cicobe1



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The figure that appeared to be Cëril then says, “We’re sorry to hear about it. I will make a promise. I…We will try our best to repair your mines. However, now we must go to Varrock and save the world from further destruction.”

The petite dwarf then approaches Cëril, grabs him by the shoulders, and says, “You should be praised with the highest of ore. If you ever repair our mines, you can have the dwarves’ trusts anytime. Whenever you are in need of help, call us dwarves. We will come and fight, anytime and anywhere.”

Of course! The dwarves promised to aid you if you repaired their mines! Therefore, the obvious solution would be through hard labor – repair the dwarves’ mine!
Manual labor wouldn’t exactly be a day at the beach, but at least it would be better than risking your life every single day of the year. You started to promenade forward, and out of the terrain of Al Kharid. You passed by the wondrous city of Varrock, and the violent village of barbarians. You passed by dwarves along the way, and after a brief period of time, you found yourself in Falador square. The recovery was going quite nicely.

The pallid tone of the magnificent brick walls on the exterior of the incredulous city was a beautiful sight to behold. The ground was newly paved a stone grey color. The shops were rebuilt and the people were thriving. However, beyond this, the Falador castle was still in complete ruins. The walls were still caved in, but there was something different from the usual look of the castle. You walked forward across the bridge, observing the young mallards following their parents to learn about the gift of life. The magnificent feathers glimmered in the shining sun; their eyes were beady with the reflection of the daytime sky. You paused for a minute and learned over the bridge to take some time to observe the mallard. What was the rush?

09-Feb-2009 19:21:28 - Last edited on 09-Mar-2009 22:09:10 by Cicobe1



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The feathers were beautifully groomed back in an elegant style, shimmering with water laid out across them. Of course, this mallard was a symbol of youth and freedom. Just the thought of having such simplicity as an individual was mind-boggling. If only youth and freedom would wrap their temperate arms around you, shrouding you in memories…
Once you were finished, you sauntered forward into the courtyard of the smashed castle. There to greet you was a tall, white statue, with a picturesque statue of a white knight. It held its sword high in the air towards the blazing sun. Carved into it on the bottom were the words: “We remember.”

Tears started to swell up in your eyes. Why did everything have to be about death? Why was everything about killing and grief? This wasn't a fairytale, it was real. Books in the huge collection of Reldo’s library were littered with books about Runescape’s past. A familiar one came into your head with the title: “History Repeats Itself.”

It talked about different ways in Runescape’s history that the past became repetitive under different themes, such as treachery or liberation. Never did it forewarn these events. This killing was unrealistic; how could so many people be killed in such a short matter of days?

It all started simply, in those days of rigorous training…


“Come on! Work faster, you lazy idiot!”

“I’m trying daddy! I’m honestly trying!”

A tall figure of a man stood as a silhouette in the evening horizon. In front of him was a wheat sack, filled with hay. In front of him stood his only child, working like hell to please his father.

Freckles dotted the rough skin along the child’s face, and in his hands was a long scythe. The sleek metal of the blade reflected the image of a young farm boy working in the fields with a long scythe in his hands. He looked as if he could barely support it.

09-Feb-2009 19:29:44 - Last edited on 10-Mar-2009 21:24:20 by Cicobe1



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The child swung the scythe, whipping it out with incredible speed. It struck the small sack with great force, and exploded in a puff of air and hay.

“You did it, son! You have a knack for this!”

The child puffed and said, “I really did well, didn't I, daddy?”

“Yes you did, son,” said the father.

“Did ya see the way that I put a lot of force into it?” asked the boy.

“Of course. You keep training like that, and you’ll hone your Reaping skill in no time.”

“Ya mean it?” asked the boy, his auburn eyes sparkling in the golden sun.

“I do. Keep it up, son,” said the father, walking into his bed for one last time.

Later that same day…

The child walked into the diminutive house located in the center of the fields. It was now dark, and the child was exhausted after working such long hours, training his Reaping skill. Everyone in Gielinor was training to hone their Reaping skill; they were all competing to be the best. Not only would the child become the best, but he would become a world-wide legend. If only he knew that to be true…

The house was quite small, but somehow, he and his father managed to live quite nicely. The boy missed his mother, with her identical eyes and curly auburn hair, like-wise to the boy’s appearance. He never really did get to see her, since she died giving birth to him. Therefore, his dad was all he had.

It was nighttime, and the energized moon was competing to outshine the envious stars in the wondrous domain of night. The pallid lunar glow shone through the window, creating a slight glare on the child’s face. The boy walked forward into the hallway, and turned to his right. He twisted the doorknob to say goodnight to his father. The door was locked.

Soft moaning was barely audible in the room.

“Daddy, you silly goose! Open the door!”

No response.

“Daddy?” the child asked again.


09-Feb-2009 19:29:44 - Last edited on 10-Mar-2009 21:25:54 by Cicobe1



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“Daddy, please open up!” the child said. Suddenly, the springs of the bed creaking was heard by the child. “Daddy, what’s happening in there?”

By then, the father was screaming. “Oh Saradomin, my freaking chest is on fire!!”

The child started to cry and twist the doorknob in a frantic motion.

“Daddy?! What’s wrong? Daddy!”

The violent shaking became louder. The screams became louder. It wasn’t a dream.

The child ran into the living room and grabbed the butcher's knife laid out on the antediluvian style of the counter. He grasped it in both hands, and ran back to the door of the father’s bedroom. He desperately stabbed at the door. Tears rolled out of his eyes. The screams started to get softer.

Then, he moved the knife lower and stabbed away at the doorknob. The dreadful sound of metal hitting metal echoed throughout the hall. Finally, the metal doorknob fell to the floor. The child rammed at the door.

The father laid there in his bed, his body trembling softly. His eyes were wide and his mouth was open. The child ran over to him, and laid a hand on his chest. His heart wasn’t moving.

“Daddy? Daddy, wake up!!”

The father didn't respond.

“Daddy?! Answer me, daddy. Wake up!”

The father didn't give the slightest hint at moving.

“Daddy, please!”

Finally, the father’s lips gave a small twitch. Hardly moving his mouth at all, he whispered, “I’ll always love you, son.”

Then, the father passed away.

The paramedics later said that the strenuous work on the fields and his mental level of stress raised his cholesterol, resulting in a heart attack. However, the child wasn’t worried about any of that. He wanted his daddy. Now.

He then spent the rest of the night crying on his father’s dead body.

End of Chapter 3.1: The Mallard.

09-Feb-2009 19:29:45 - Last edited on 10-Mar-2009 21:07:58 by Cicobe1



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Chapter 3.1: The Dwarves

Page 97:

You looked into the glare of the reflective pond, looking at the dead eyes of your father. He gave everything for you. His dedication, his time, his money, everything. And the last thing he ever said was to be proud of you. Such a concept was unbearable to think about; the dreadful memory played like a broken record, again and again in your mind.

“Ello ‘der!”

You looked to your right, and saw a dwarf trotting your way, with a toolbox in one hand, the other hand reaching out to greet you.

“The name’s Thargor.”

“Hello, Thargor. My name’s –”

“Aww, there’s no need fer dat. I know who ye are. Yer the Grim Reaper!”

“Yes, I am.”

“What brings ye to this part of the world?”

“Well, I have to ask you something.”

“Sure. What is it you’ll be needin’?”

“Well, at the battle that occurred here not too long ago, the Dwarven Mines were destroyed in what occurred below. Afterwards, the dwarves escaped, as you probably know, and were in desperate need of help. With their mines destroyed, I volunteered I would help them rebuild their mines. However, Varrock was under fire by Iban, so I took priority and fled towards Varrock. After that, I killed Iban in the battle of Ardougne that occurred recently. After he’d been slain, I collapsed and found myself in Saradomin’s palace, and –”

“Ye went to Saradomin’s palace?!” the wide-eyed dwarf exclaimed.

09-Feb-2009 19:29:45 - Last edited on 03-Sep-2009 21:50:48 by Cicobe1



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“Yes. He gave me a task. My task is to save the world of Runescape from the war that is imminent. If this is to be accomplished, I need help; I can’t do this alone. Therefore, that’s where the dwarves come in. Zamorak’s forces are growing, and I’m in search of an alliance to have any chances of surviving in combat. The leader of the group of dwarves said to me that if I were to help repair his mines, I would gain his trust, and that he would aid dwarves to me at anytime. So, I’m hoping to have dwarves fight with the alliance, if I can build his mine first. Can you show me to where the leader dwarf is?”

“Aye! Why did*’t ye just say ye wanted to see Droden?”

“Droden? That’s his name?”

“Aye. He’s the right-hand man of the dwarf king, ye know?”

“There’s a dwarf king? How come I’ve never heard of him?”

“Because there’s so many people out there being paid to get his head! He hides in an underground location that only us dwarves know.”

“Okay, fair enough. Can you please take me to Droden?”

“Sure. Let’s go now, lad.”

You trotted along with the dwarf as he led you to the Falador Castle. As you followed him inside, you observed the wrecks of the building, despite the attempted recoveries.

The bricks from the destruction of the castle were laid out in a neat fashion by some dwarves with tool belts on.

You climbed to the top of the castle, avoiding holes in the stairs as you walked up. Once at the top, you were face-to-face with Droden, right-hand man of the king.

He had a gruff figure, quite muscular and robust. His face was a mis-lead to his age. Wrinkles spread their ways over his face, and his eyes had a peculiar misty haze, as if his vision were fading. Although quite young, it was quite obvious that Droden had been through a lot, aging his physical appearance.

09-Feb-2009 19:29:46 - Last edited on 03-Sep-2009 21:53:21 by Cicobe1



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“Hello,” said Droden.

“Hello,” you said, and bowed. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

“And you as well, Grim Reaper. What is it you wished to speak to me about?”

“Well, I’m putting up an offer for you. I will help re-build your mines now, if you would please lend me your dwarves for a cause.”

“What cause? My men are precious to me. I need to know the reason.”

You told him the same reasons you told Thargor, and during the speech, he scratched his beard slowly, as if pondering over the decision. After you were finished, the dwarf responded:

“With all due respect, I don’t know. When I made that promise, we were in desperation. Now, we’re getting along quite nicely, and may be able to repair the mines on our own.”

“It was a promise! You have to withhold it!”

Droden’s brow erupted with wrinkles, and his eyebrows curved down in a fierce manner.

“How dare you talk to me that way! Do you know who you’re talking to?”

“A liar who doesn’t hold true to his promises?”

“Guards! Take this man away!”

Stout dwarves dressed in black metal armor with warhammers tucked in their belts came rushing up the stairs, and seized you by your arms.

“Wait! Give me one more chance.”

“You’ve had enough chances!” Droden barked.

“No, allow me to prove to you that I’m worthy.”

“Hmm . . . So you’re willing to undergo anything?”

“Yes, anything for your trust.”

“Very well then. I have an idea. You will undergo the ‘experiment’.”

“What experiment?”

“In the secret part of Keldagrim, we dwarves have been working on an experiment. This is confidential info, mind you. If you tell anyone, I will send my dwarves out to kill you. Understand?”


09-Feb-2009 19:29:47 - Last edited on 03-Sep-2009 21:53:32 by Cicobe1



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“Okay. Moving on, we dwarves have a secret ore in our mines called dragonite. Although the humans don’t know it exists, it’s used to smith their dragon items. Also, humans are far too inexperienced in smithing to be able to smith dragonite ore.

"So, I’ll get to the point. Dwarves have been smithing it for years, but we’ve recently come across a new theory. This ore is so powerful that it has a certain radiation to it. This radiation has been known to give off special powers . . . So, we’d like to perform an experiment on you that no dwarf has been willing to undergo. We need to perform it on a human as well, as we need a complex living body system. What do you say?”

“What will the experiment be?”

“We will melt down the dragonite ore to become molten liquid. This will then be frozen until it becomes pure gas. Once the gas is made, we will put it into a needle and inject it. We will record your heart rate, muscle tension, and other bodily functions that may change during the procedure.”

“Okay. I’ll agree. But this time, no broken promises.”

“Agreed. Now, off to Keldagrim! The mine cart was relocated in the mines near Rimmington. Just go into the tunnel and tell the cart conductor that Droden told you to meet him in Keldagrim. He should let you go through for free.”

“Shouldn’t I have some proof of some sort?”

“Ah, of course. Grogia! I need some papyrus and coal!”

An aged, very stout dwarf trembled up the steps, clearly struggling to walk. She handed him a papyrus and some coal, and slowly trotted back down the steps. Droden scribbled on the paper, and handed it to you. It was his signature.

“There you go. Now, meet me in Keldagrim, by the mines. I have my own methods of getting there. Best of luck in your travel!”

“Thank you,” you said, and walked down the steps and headed to Rimmington.

09-Feb-2009 19:29:47 - Last edited on 03-Sep-2009 21:54:41 by Cicobe1



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Once there, you saw a fairly large hole that was extremely dark. Sticking out were two rungs of the ladder, which reassured your sanity. You grasped onto it, and climbed down. The feeling of darkness vanished as you climbed down the grimy tunnel and into a torch-lit cavern. A cart conductor, sitting on a chair next to a cart, watched you climb down. He was dressed in a blue suit, with a cyan hat to match the outfit. He then stood up and greeted you.

“Hello there! I’m the cart conductor for this here cart. It costs a mere 500 gold to ride to Keldagrim.”

“I have a note from Droden. He told me to give it to you to meet him there, for a free ride.”

The train conductor looked at the note, and stuffed it into his pocket.

“You’re free to go!”

You climbed into the dirty mine cart, and the conductor pulled a lever by his side. The mine cart then started to move, and you faded into darkness.

Torches lit the cavern as you rolled down the track. Eventually, you came to your stop in Keldagrim, and climbed out of the cart into the city of Keldagrim. Droden was waiting for you by the operating booth.

“Glad to see you made it here okay. Now, the part of Keldagrim you’re about to see is high-position dwarf exclusive. Therefore, I can’t have you disclosing where it is. I can’t take any chances. So, you’ll have to put on this blindfold as we get to the chamber.”

You took the blindfold and put it on. Droden grasped your arm and pulled you toward the chamber. Finally, after much walking, you heard:

“Alright, you can take it off now.*

You pulled off the blindfold and found yourself in a brightly lit chamber, with rock walls. In the middle was a large, white desk. Dwarves in white doctor robes were busily working with chemicals in vials at their work desks. Droden then announced:

“Fellow dwarves, I have big news! This human here has volunteered to undergo the experiment!”

09-Feb-2009 19:29:48 - Last edited on 03-Sep-2009 21:55:46 by Cicobe1



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The dwarves cheered, as they prepared to go forward with the procedure, by sterilizing their hands and putting on their gloves.

Droden led you to the desk and instructed you to lie down. You did so, and stared at the stalactites pointing in your direction from the ceiling. Suddenly, metal bars snapped over you, making you gasp in shock.

“What are you doing?! We had a deal!”

“Calm down. These are just restraints to make sure that you don’t go berserk during the experiment. We can’t take any chances. Dwarves! Melt the dragonite!”

The dwarves proceeded to take a large pair of tongs, and grab the glowing dragonite from the table. They placed it in the furnace, and waited. Finally, Droden said:

“Alright, take it out.”

They did as instructed and placed it into a small container. They poured a light blue liquid into the container, and quickly closed the lid. The ore started to sizzle, and began to transform into gas.

After a while, the ore was gone, and became misty, red gas. The needle was then put up to a small slot that was opened on the side of the container and was filled with dragonite gas.

The slot was closed and the needle was ready. The dwarf approached you and held the icy needle to your warm flesh. The dwarf had a slight smile on his face.

A feeling of remorse and regret started to flow throughout your body. What were you doing?!

“Let me go! I’ve changed my mind!”

“It’s too late now!* said Droden.


The dwarf injected the needle. Pain roared throughout your arm.

You began to violently throttle, as spittle foamed out of your mouth. Your eyes became a pallid white as a network of orange veins stretched through the pupil-vacant eye. Then, pain started to flow throughout your whole body. Your screams echoed throughout the room.

09-Feb-2009 19:29:48 - Last edited on 03-Sep-2009 21:56:51 by Cicobe1



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Suddenly, everything froze. You felt powerful, like a monster . . . Your eyes became a deep yellow, as if reptilian. Skin ripped apart on your back as monstrous black wings sprouted from the spot. Your legs suddenly became much more muscular, and your arms incredibly robust. Your teeth became sharp, deadly fangs. You were superhuman. You were part dragon.

After a bit, you returned to normal. But somehow, deep inside of you, you were able to power it . . . Like a retractable claw, call upon it whenever you wanted.

Finally, after a long silence, Droden said:

“That’s it! Dwarves, let me make this very clear: Do not ever make that again. The effects are clearly dangerous, and should not be used without my approval. Understood?”

Nearly simultaneously, the dwarves answered with a “yes”.

“Now, I have to speak to you in private.”

You followed him into a corridor, where he said to you:

“Thank you for your time. You’ve helped the dwarven civilization from possible disaster if this were to be spread across the dwarven nation. I can’t thank you enough. You have my trust. When the time comes, come to me, and I will fight alongside my dwarves against the forces of Zamorak. Now, allow me to lead you out of the corridor,” said Droden as he placed the blindfold on you.

Once you were told to take it off, you ended up in the dwarf mining cart station.

Then, Droden said:

“Again, thank you for your help. Go and protect Gielinor!
Gain the trust of the other races!”

The cart conductor gave you a nod of approval for a free ride, and you hopped into the cart and headed off into the darkness, having a sense of pride and happiness as you set off to gain the trust of the other four races.


09-Feb-2009 19:29:49 - Last edited on 03-Sep-2009 21:57:52 by Cicobe1



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Comments begin on page 31.

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©2009 Ciao Productions. The above work is copyrighted under CiaoLore™. The above work is a work of fiction. Any events relating to the story above is completely coincidental. The author of this work is not responsible for any actions taken by the reader whatsoever. Thank you.

09-Feb-2009 19:34:18 - Last edited on 03-Sep-2009 22:04:15 by Cicobe1

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