This is a translation of one of my older works. Since I hate proofreading, there will probably be many mistakes and the very well known "Czechisms" (not known to people outside Czech Republic I guess, simply word-by-word translations of Czech proverbs, tenses and such). If you could point these out, I'd be grateful. Otherwise, enjoy. A small group of adventurers was approaching a small forest near the southern border of the Wilderness. TheyÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢ve departed from Falador about an hour ago. The journey was a swift one ÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Ãâ they had the finest horses in all Gielinor. They were not just regular adventurers. They were knights who became adventurers out of boredom. There were six of them. They were all members of Asgarnia's oldest families, they were wealthy, so wealthy they never needed to work. But all were also stupid and inexperienced. Proud and courageous. And they wanted some fun. Right now they all found killing some villains in the wilderness extremely funny. They were raised for such tasks. They had the best instructors of swordsmanship and tactics, they were brilliant riders, they excelled at close combat. They knew no fear, but they very well knew the art of war. As they rode north, the countryside changed quickly. Where once was soft low grass was now high and sharp grass, the ground became dry and the sky got much darker. They kept going and the trees quickly dispersed. Much more quickly than they should. After a mere fifty meters, they were not in a forest, they were standing on the dry wasteland of the Wilderness. They could see a couple of old trees, but they've been dead for some time. The wind already brushed them clear of any bark, they looked almost artificial, so smooth. The ground was dry and cracked, but what was worse, there was no grass, no weed, no life. Rarely you could see some fungi, poisonous for sure. Or, if you wish, edible ÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Ãâ but only once. Our group of six adventurers stopped at the border of the Wilderness and looked at the horizon, thinking about what could happen very soon. They could see only a few landmarks ÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Ãâ the Black Knights' Castle to the northeast, to the north the Temple of Zamorak. It was decided in a matter of seconds. They headed north. Their horses galloped across the barren wasteland, raising clouds of deep brown dust with every jump. If it weren't for a couple of dead trees along the way, you could have thought they're not even moving forward. The Wilderness is the emptiest place in the world. In this way, it closely resembles the hearts of those who inhabit it. After a while, our party finally found a point of interest. Ruins of an ancient city. In the jagged remains of walls you could hear the wind whistling as it's gusts slowly turned the whole city into dust. There were spiders everywhere. And spider webs The shadows played strange games with our adventurers' eyes. Sometimes it seemed that something was moving in the darkest corners. Their swords were at hand, they were prepared to defend themselves. Yet they needed not to. They got through the city and met no one who wanted to harm them. They didn't meet anyone at all. So the party continued north. And their destination was getting closer and closer. The horses started to get nervous. Any thinking being venturing so deep into the Wilderness soon starts feeling strangely anxious. In the back of its head, fear and doubts appear. All remains of its reason scream: 'Stop!' But the adventurers subdued any objections of their horses. They were on an adventure! They continued north. And soon they arrived at the temple. It looked stunning from the outside. Finely crafted black stones fit perfectly into each other, the stained glass in the windows pictured surrealistic chapters from the twisted history of Gielinor. A pair of spires burst from the main building, resembling small horns. There were many statues scattered around the temple. The most interesting were the huge four-handed beasts, wielding terrible weapon in each of their arms. And in front of the main gate, two dragons stood, guarding the temple from any intruder foolish enough to even think about desecrating the temple of Zamorak. It was hard to tell whether the sculptor's work was that brilliant or whether those statues were real monsters, turned into stone by a terribly powerful mage. But they all had a strange fire in their eyes, a fire that was igniting the primitive fears hidden deep withing the human heart. But the adventurers heeded no warnings. They had a task ÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Ãâ to wipe out the devil in the name of Saradomin! They forced the massive gates open. Monks, all dressed in long black robes with red trimming, looked at those unwelcome guests with surprise. Everything was silent for a second. And then the six figures, their armor shining, their helmets closed, rushed at the unarmed monks. You could see their lust for blood. You could smell it. You could hear it. The good of Saradomin was gone. Now they were bloodthirsty beasts, and their thirst was soon to be quenched. The many priests of Zamorak ran around in chaos. Those less fortunate were already lying on the ground in a pool of their own blood. The knights quickly advanced deeper into the temple. Helpless men were no match to their weapons, there was no opposition, there was no real fight. There was only slaughter. The smell of the blood filled the air. Screams of the dying mixed with the war cries of the knights, forming a choir from hell. And then, all was silent. The fighting was over. No one survived. The horror of the dying became the horror of the death. The knights returned to the entrance. Their shiny armor was not as shiny now. It was bloodstained. They mounted their horses and headed back south, to celebrate their glorious victory against the evil of Zamorak. They rode through the wrecked city again. Their alarm was gone. They were drunk with victory and drunk with blood. The shadows in the shattered houses around them whirled. They were nothing but a blur, and all were gathering in the middle of a former town square. They formed a lake of pure darkness, boiling and burbling. When the six adventurers got to the lake, they stopped. Horses started yanking. Their riders could no longer hold themselves in the saddles. All fell on the ground. Horses ran as fast as they could, away from this place. They were scared to death. And so were the adventurers. They drew their swords and gazed at the dark lake that was just a few meters far. The mass of darkness suddenly started moving. It divided into four smaller lakes. Each of them raised and started forming something. Something looking like four-armed giants, wielding terrible weapons in each hand. All four giants turned their heads to the small group of shaking adventurers at the same time. All four then took a step forward. Adventurers raised their weapons, hoping to defend themselves. The first giant attacked. Broke the adventurer's sword and hit him so hard he flew ten meters back and crashed into a wall. The other giants started spinning their weapons lightning fast. Whirlwind of destruction approached the adventurers and they fell to the ground as they were touched by the deadly weapons. There was no sound. Not a scream, not a clench. It was the terrible silence of death. The last living adventurer tried to run for his life. He didn't stand a chance. Soon, there was no living soul in the city. The giants returned to their original positions. Then they melted into a lake of darkness and this lake shattered into thousands of shadows that assumed their positions everywhere in the city. Everything was quiet. And there were six more shadows guarding the ancient city.
