Tale of the Alar-goers.

[Godslayer]

I look at my pack, brimming with the dull grey of rune essence. I wonder aloud to another random runecrafter, "Why is it that my back can only hold 28 of something?" to which he replies "Well, our packs must just be too small for anything more, I guess. Never really occured to me."he then added "Or mattered..."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I didn't get the hint, so I pressed on, putting my rune essence down, never being one for multitasking. "Well, then how can I hold 28 sets of plate armour when I smith? I think thats much larger, but it still fits!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Well, then its just-"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"And what about coins and runes? And feathers? How can people fit hundreds of coins and runes in their pack? And if rune essence is unblessed runes, how come I can't fit hundreds in my pack?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Obviously, runes are magic, besides-"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"But, contrary to popular belief, coins aren't magic, so how do they- hey, wait where are you going???" I asked, as the stranger stormed away through the shimmering portal. "I can never get a good conversation going with these runecrafters..." I mutter, all alone now on this huge hill. I pick up another rune essence, and put it up to the enchanted rock infront of me, wedging it there with a talisman of air, imprinting the wavvy wind symbol. The rune suddenly explodes with white light, this is the part I hate. I don't understand the alure of this craft, most people think the light is wonderful. I don't, I just need some runes to cast telekinetic grab on some coins I dropped into a fountain (I'll never understand why the Faladore fountain is so deep!) and can't reach.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So, as this light continues to sear my eyes, I try and look away, towards the portal. Which isn't there. Suddenly, I drop the rune and talisman so the light will stop. The portal isn't here! For a few moments, I search franticaly. "Where," spin around " did," fall on dirt "it" look around "go?!!?" get up exasperated.Repeat several times. If you just did that, you'll know what I looked like, up there, near the clouds. The frigidly frightening truth hits me and the metaphorical wind is struck out of me. I'm stuck. Alone. In the middle of Saradomin knows where. What am I going to do? I ask myself quietly, looking down the hill. Down there is a mass of trees as far as the eye can see, and a glistening river splitting through them and heading where I assume is Southwest. I sigh, giving in to my fate, and begin to head down the slope, my pack [racist term]ing about my back with unfinished runes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Hours pass, as I head down the river looking for civilization desperately. Small oblong shapes flit through the water, and little clams glisten on the few yards of beach on each side. I cocked my head towards the sky and saw some birds flying at an even pace with me, and as suddenly as they came, the peeled off into the distance. This made me smile, all these sights of nature. Soon I come to a split in the river, and, after a quick and childish ritual of choosing, I pick the left fork. After a few uneventful miles, I hear a voice. "Are you of Tham? If so, why are you so far into the wild?" the voice demands sharply. "Where are you?" I bellow back.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A green robed man abruptly leaps down from the branches of a nearby tree saying "You needn't hurt my ears young one, just answer me." His hair was a mahogany brown, pulled back in a ponytail. He had a large beard, which totally encompassed half of his face and his entire neck. The beard had been braided, but still looked like a bush, the braids fraying. There was a small firm little leaf here and there in his hair, which he didn't seem to mind in the least. His eyes where a merry green, and everything about him seemed natural, down to his shoeless feet, with a thick coating of hair encasing them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"W-What is 'Tham'?" I stutter [eloquently, no?], wondering of his sanity.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Erm, Tham is the city just south of here, you mean you've not heard of it? Where are you from then young one?" he replied, wondering of my sanity.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

" I'm from Falador," I said proudly, drawing a complete blank. "You know, the castle, the knights..." another look of total incomprehension. "The mining guild?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I really don't know what your-" he began, and then suddenly eyed me suspiciously for a total of 2.3 seconds. He whipped out a large battle staff, getting into a menacing attack position. "Barbarian!" he barked.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Wha- no, no! I just got stuck here from rune crafting! At the air altar!" I lamented quickly, my hand at my hilt, not wanting to kill the old man.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Again, the green-robed man displayed his awesome ability in changing emotion and attitude. This time he showed it by falling to his face in worship, then quickly getting up, a large horn made of tusk in his hands with several holes in it. "Will you wait a second?" he said politely, as he began to blow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_______

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

13 minutes later, [i counted, it was quite boring] he stopped. I looked over at him, and he cupped his ear towards the forest, obviously he wasn't going to explain himself, so I took the initiative to ask him what that was all about.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Well, the monks and I have a system of communication over long distances. We use the time it takes to finish the blow in order to figure out what the blower is trying to say. In this case, I said, ' An altar-goer has arrived' and 'Have lunch ready'. It's actually quiet ingenious, I think it was the gnomes who first came up with that idea. Speaking of gnomes, watch out."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Huh?" I reply stupidly. Suddenly I hear a whirring sound behind me, and a fall to the ground expecting an arrow. This green-garbed monk regarded the whirring object calmly, and put up his hand. Overhead, a barely visible black glider soared, and fell into his outstretched hand, shattering my illusion of it being full sized. I get up and dust off my previously unsoiled shirt and pants [both a faded black in color] and look at the glider-like object in his palm.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As I said its black, an on closer inspection I saw that it was comprised of one piece of paper, with etchings all over it. It was folded so that it had a point, and two wing like things along its side. Wedged between these was another piece of black-etched paper, this time scrolled up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Apparently, the Gnomes need help, since, from what I can tell, this is an emergency air flier. And," he said looking over at me, his green eyes twinkling " when I say emergency, I mean it took them 10 years to make it!. No, no, I'm just teasing them, only a few months probably. It does take some time in their foresight trance to take into account every minute detail of the flight, and how to accurately transmit that into a piece of paper using only some folds here an there. ThereÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢s no time to read it now I'm afraid, and we're expected for lunch. Besides, these take ages to read." with that, he turned and began to walk from whence I cam down the river.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I looked over at his shrinking body,flabergasted. A shrug and a turn made me feel better, as I kept down the river. Behind me I heard a distant voice, and the scuffle of feet. "Oh no! Your coming with me!" he shouted out. He caught up to me and took hold of my arm, saying briskly " We're going to Tham."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

With that, we began to walk opposite the rivers flow, back towards the fork.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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As we walk, me and Ack Som Shi Nock Eemvos Deleemli, whom I have nicknamed Acksom, converse on a variety of subjects, and I've found out a lot about this continent. Most of the land is ruled by the loosely aligned city states of man, and only 3 areas are not under their rule. One is the frozen wasteland to the south, which no one wants, because, apart from being totally inhospitable, there are horrible ice demons dwelling there. [When I told him that was sort of a contradiction, he just looked at me blankly. I wonder if they have other types of demons here?] and another is the Five Mountains of the Unman.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

According to Acksom, there are five melancholy mountains to the east of the forest we're in, each harboring a different creature, sometimes more than one. The gnomes who sent us the glider-letter reside in the smallest mountain, close to the edge of the forest. While their mount is smallest, it is rumored that they have vast underground cities stretching for miles under its base. The next is dragon peak, where dragons reputedly dwell. No one has ever reported seeing a dragon (which isn't really odd, the as dead cannot speak well) but you can see pillars of fire all over its slopes, even from a safe distance. Beside it lie the greatest mount, the Troll Mountain. They live within the caves inside most of them, or on its steep sides. Near the gnomish mountain is a mountain inhabited by the Dawrvenfolk, not much is known about them, they've been quiet for the last few years. Finally, the goblins reside on the fifth, making crude huts and scratching by.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The last land which is not under man is the barbarian land, on a large peninsula south of the bay Tham lays on. With the barbarians are the armies of men constantly at war. Not much is known about them, other than their fearsome berserker tactics in battle.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As Acksom was about to start on religion, there was a rustling in the trees. At first I didn't pay attention, then the rustling surrounded both sides of the river we where walking along the banks of. Acksom attentively whipped out his long battle staff, his moss green robes fluttering. "Ready yourself." he muttered, eyeing the hilt of my sword protruding from my scabbard.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"WhatÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢s going-" was all I managed to say (that was legible) before a grotesquely hideous creature dropped out of the canopy above. It was a dark greenish color, with sick splotches of dark skin here and there, standing at around 3 feet. Its snout was large and bulbous, with no eyes, just a many toothed mouth, and some slots for hearing and smell. It had spindly arms, and powerful legs, and stood in a semi-upright position. In its hand was a blunt shorts word, chipped and ugly. It shook its large and blind head around for a second then faced Acksom direction, sniffing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"It be you, you who be wackin my brotha's and sista's? I gots you, I gots you now!" it croaked gleefully. "I bringed my whole fam'y! You be din' in the moontime!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

With that, about twenty more creatures of the same characteristics jumped out of the foliage, all brandishing different rag-tag weapons, shaking their heads around until finally they faced Acksom, and sniffing as well.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

" Ah, how delightful" the Monk said sourly "the Troglodytes."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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"Attack!" the head troglodyte cried scathingly, as it bounded into action. Two of the Troglodytes ran into each other, falling on the wet sand, whilst another tripped over them and toppled into the water. Dismayed, their leader lepta over to help them. He was, however cut short by a large strike delivered by Acksom.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He used that momentum to leap and do a midair turn, whacking downwards upon another sightless viridian head. Using the battle staff as a pole vault like device, and actually flipped over the fallen Troglodyte! He landed with one foot, and bent down, swing his other foot in a circle, then using the kicks force, he spun around horizontally with his staff flailing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

At this point I was completely stunned, this was the most flexible old man I had ever seen. I couldn't do half the stuff he was doing! He had just jabbed another into unconsciousness when I decided it was time to draw my weapon. My hand on my hilt, I tried to pull the sword free. I failed. I tried again, pulling with all my might, angry that my blade was stuck. Suddenly it let loose, and I was thrown over the river bank by my own force. I splashed into the water, my dirty black clothes soaked. I flapped about, my leg caught in some sort of underwater flora, watching as my beautiful glimmering Runite blade floated away with the current. Acksom had by now knocked out all of Troglodytes and was bending down to help me out of the shimmering water.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Erm," I said, quite embarrassed. "t-thanks for the help. Nice moves you've got there, but why don't you use a sword? It's much more efficient."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"My religion forbids me from spilling blood" Acksom says " Life pleases Guthix."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Several uneventful hours pass, as me and Acksom walk along. My shirt has long since been stripped off, the sticky wetness and the heat combined to make a very uncomfortable combination. My pants have dried off, and in my hand is a stout stick, my makeshift weapon, having loss a fortune worth in a long rod of Runite.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ãâ¦Ã¢â¬ÅSo,ÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬ÃâÃ

[axeraider70]

well i read the first paragraph and made the assumption the rest had the same stupid storyline.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

nice description and such, but no good story line.

[Godslayer]

It's not finished... :roll:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The story has barely started, lol. Whats is the stupidness of this storyline? Explain.