The Legend of the Forum - [~3 Characters Needed!]

[ForsakenMage]

Back in the day of, dare I say the name, Scapeboard, we had a story. No, not a story. A legend. A legend created by participating members of the Varrock Library. Together, with their own character(s), they created this legend of the forum, filled with events of joy, terror, romance, and much more.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And it's back! :shock: After chatting with a good friend of mine (you know who you are hehe) it's time we've brought the legend back full scale, with a whole new plot! Of course, former participants and new participants alike may join in the fun.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Basically what happens is that we create a character of our own, preferably something not from a video game or anime, etc. of some sort.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If you are thinking of seriously participating, post your character profile and soon as we get about five or six people we can start! 8) This will be a story based on the RuneScape environment, but we can go beyond that. :)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Note When there are spots opening, please be respectful and post seriously. Bad characters result in a lack of respect for the post and for the person contributing and can be catastrophic. So please, do be respectful towards the writers and post as maturely as possible. This includes making sure you have close to proper grammar and spelling, or the whole story will be ruined.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yes, I know my posting style has changed a little, and I appologize for this being rather short and whatnot, but I'll try to do my best to touch this up a bit when my mind is a bit more settled.. Still overly joyed the boards are back lol!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Profile for Aming Heart, the Forsaken Mage:

 

 

 

A mage of pure Light, Aming Heart (also known as the Forsaken Mage) wanders the world, her green mage robes gently rippling in the wind while her staff lights the way through the dark caverns and forests that she passes through. Her appearance did not betray her age, far older than some believe her to be, with dark brown/black hair left to flow over her shoulders and down her back, a soft face holding some sort of secret behind it, and brown eyes sometimes flickering with happiness one moment and hostility the next. During her travels she begins to slowly train her survival skills in this mysterious land, learning of its inhabitants, geography, etc. Her skills include various hand-to-hand combat styles and different forms of magic. Her staff has the power to materialize into her sword, Crescent Blaze, and when summoned can produce not only a few cuts and stabs, but a powerful wave of Light, sending all those of Dark to something far worse than the depths of the Underworld...

[Smokie]

Hmm.. Okay, here we go then.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Name: Alduineth

 

 

 

Gender: Male

 

 

 

Age: Unknown

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Alduineth, the blademaster, disowned from a noble Asgarnian house, fallen victim to fate.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He is clearly distinguished from others, a tall man with silver hair that glistens more brightly than even his sword. He is neither old nor young, Alduineth's ageless, yet handsome face is overshadowed by a look of grim fortitude. In a flowing black cloak, silhoutted by gold and with a silver crown embroidered on the chest, Alduineth is known to many simply as "The Shadow".

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Though he is now disregarded with a cold hostility by his house, Alduineth was once a great hero. He brought much fame to Asgarnia and its nobles as the conqueror of demons, dragons and all creatures dark. Once a fair-haired, jovial young man, Alduineth now stands alone in isolation. Once he was a man who boys wanted to be, once he was a man that every lady fawned over, once he was a man that legends were written of.... But now, he is alone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Alduineth fell in love with a commoner, many years ago. Her name was Elecia (Eh-lay-see-ahhh), and her beauty took men by their souls. After Alduineth was found to be eloping with Elecia, he was strictly warned never to meet with her again, or to regard her any more than he would another commoner. However, Alduineth's love for Elecia was greater than his desire to appease his family, and so, he did not heed their warnings, and continued meeting with her. Eventually, the hostility towards him became so great that his family disowned him, and removed his noble title. Alduineth felt no sorrow or regret while drifting in his all-encompassing love for Elecia, and thus did not care. Time passed, and Alduineth was wedded to Elecia. A few months later, while Alduineth was off fighting Greater Demons in the deepest darks of the Wilderness, three assassins were sent to his home in the countryside of Ardougne. When Alduineth returned to his home, eager to meet his wife again after so long a time, he found her dead in the kitchen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Since that day, Alduineth has never smiled, never layed eyes on another woman, and has killed every mercenary he has met. His blade is his only companion, the sheath now his soul.

 

 

 

------------------------------------------------------

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Okay so thats a little bit of it (forgive the ending, I couldn't think of a better one). Any suggestions? Lol I think it might be a little *violent* there at the end.. But... yeah.. What do you (Forsaken) think?

[ForsakenMage]

In the previous Legend, there were quite a bit of gruesome battle scenes. So long as we don't trail into the extremely gory details or into rate x stuff, all fine. :)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hopefully we can get started on this soon... Still need about three more characters! :shock:

[JohnnySmum]

Name: Dumah (ya say it, "DU- MAA" :D)

 

 

 

Age: Unknown

 

 

 

Gender: Male

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

His zeal for battle is only matched by his profound altruism. Dumah, last of the Sarafan Priests, wanders the lands, seeking redemption for his past. A mysterious figure, his face is masked by a thick, shielding robe, and some have speculated that he is not born of human hands.

 

 

 

A solitary creature by nature, Dumah prefers isolation to companionship - a self imposed penitance for his past crimes.

 

 

 

Unable to express the grace to weild a weapon, Dumah instead relies on his considerable strength to beat opponents.

 

 

 

Speculation has it that his dark garments hide a winsom face - out of place, considering his ogre like stature.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

An ancient scroll of unknown origin was found recently, and is now in display at the Varrok Library.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For past crimes unspeakable

 

 

 

Their destiny is forever lost

 

 

 

Upon cruel fate's shifting table

 

 

 

Until redeemed, that terrible cost

 

 

 

[Line 3759]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Edit: This could be reaaaally fun :D , especially if we can take it further than the RS world (although basing it there would be cool). I love writing from a different, non-objective perspective :D.

[ForsakenMage]

Ow.. was hoping for a female character to join in (don't want to be the only one lol) among the rest of the group but it's okay! :D

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There appears to be enough to get us started... so... Here goes the plot...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

~~~~

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Smoke. Fire. The smell of blood and rotting bodies filled the air as troops of Black Knights exited the ruins of Falador. The once highly prided castle of the White Knights was now scorched and bloodstained. Bodies of decapitated knights of both sides lay stewen in the courtyard. Shades emerged from the ground, moaning and wailing. The bankers shivered behind their teller windows, giving up all the treasure they held to the raiders, the storekeeper had fled from his store, the shield shop now empty. The sign hanging at the inn hung by one chain, the kegs empty, the barmaids no where to be seen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Somewhere near Ice Mountain, the Oracle looked in the direction of Falador and shook its head. This was not supposed to happen, the sacking of Falador. Something was surely amiss. Suddenly a shadow fell over it. It turned around, then gave out a strangled cry just as a scythe came down on it...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Not too far away at the edge of the Wilderness, Aming Heart pulled out her sword from a fallen skeleton, wiping off a bead of sweat. It had been a tiring journey from the Ice Plateau, escaping from skeletons such as the one she had just slain, ghosts, goblins, and zombies. When she reached the last few yards, she noticed a glowing fire at the Black Knights fortress and a loud chorus of laughter. Quickly she ducked under a window of the fortress and listened closely to the excited chatter.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Men! We have finally brought those wretched White Knights down! Thanks to Zamarok, we shall soon take over the kingdom, and all of this land!" said a gruff voice, assumingly the leader of the knights.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Aye! Those other kingdoms won't stand a chance with their dimwitted guards!" laughed another.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Ah, but remember, my brothers! There's still many skilled warriors out there that wander the land that are of a foreign land! We need them to join our forces. Then, virtually nothing can stop us!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There was another chorus of cheers and laughter before things settled down a bit. Aming quietly scurried away from the fortress, frowning. "Falador destroyed? Impossible.. Yet, why does my heart tell it is true?" She began to make her way through the barren land towards the Ice Mountain, then gasped when she found streaks of blood on one of its sides. "What the...?" Quickly she scaled up the side, only to choked back a cry of surprise when she found the Oracle, still, with a deep gash down the length of its body. She knelt down besides the Oracle, knowing that it was probably too late to save it, then looked at its face and realized that it was whispering something. She knelt closer to listen, then cringed at its words.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Please... stop the evil... Something far more evil than the god Zamarok himself lurks this realm... The Black Knights are only its pawns... Stop it..." The voice faded away and the Oracle fell silent forever.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aming stood up grimly, looking towards the direction of Falador. Trendils of smoke filled in the air above it, and the walls seemed almost nonexistant. How much destruction did this evil cause?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I best gather help," she thought to herself as she clambered off the mountain and began her trek towards the fallen city to seek out the survivors, if any...

[Smokie]

Alduineth stood atop a tall hill, surveying the scene below with a grim horror. He was never one to show emotion, but the sight of destruction that lay beneath him invoked emotions and feelings too strong to be kept within. Falador, capital of Asgarnia, had fallen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As the Black Knight behind him gave a final wrench, Alduineth wiped the blood from his sword. He had slain many on his journey, if it could be called that, to Falador. While in Draynor Village, he had heard rumors that Falador -- no, all of Asgarnia was under siege, and rapidly failing. Almost at once Alduineth had brandished his blade and donned his armor, setting off at a dash towards Falador.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A few miles into Asgarnian lands, Alduineth had encountered a fleeing batallion of White Knights, who told him of the Black Knights, and their imminent conquest of the entire realm of Asgarnia, and perhaps even the world. With those troubling words, Alduineth had parted from the White Knights.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And now, after killing dozens of Black Knights, he found this: The great city of Falador, reduced to nothing more than a few flickering fires, and smoking heaps of rubble. As he looked across the horizon, Alduineth lay eyes on what was once the implacable fortress of the White Knights, now only a heap of bodies and disfigured stones. The buildings were in even worse condition; most were simply gone, and of the ones that remained, all were damaged beyond repair. Soot-blackened furniture lay upturned, pieces of wood lay burned into ashes, and everywhere were bodies of innocent people.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Alduineth left the hill and entered the city. As he strode along once beautifully designed streets and walkways, an unmoving figure in the middle of the road caught his attention. As Alduineth approached the figure, he realized it was a little girl. Suddenly, Alduineth was overcome by a deep anguish, and he fell to his knees and wept. "How could those savages do something like this to a little girl?" he demanded of himself. "No," he thought to himself, regaining his composure, "I will not cry, I will avenge."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

With that Alduineth picked up the doll, and tucked it away in his travelling bag. He would fight and kill those responsible, but he could not do it alone..

[Cloaked_Shadow]

can i join in? yeah? okay then:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Name: Mohammad Kabir

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Age:14

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gender: Male

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mohammad Kabir is a martial artist, punching at up to nine punches per second. He is also a good swordsman. He has brown skin, and red eyes rimmed with brown. In battle he dons a glowing Diamond Sword and shurikens, as well as his fists. he wears the thin but stronk silk of the giant spider tartantaralob on his back, in the color of black. He is great overall in every battle skill, swordsman ship, martial arts, and archery, but his greatest weakness is that he is susceptible to dark powers and may turn evil.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Character From: the story, Shadows

[MPM]

Sorry im coming in late. I was debating whether or not I wanted to try or watch. I decided to try.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Name: Dremmol

 

 

 

Gender: Female

 

 

 

Age:17

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Profile for Dremmol --The misplaced mage

 

 

 

Dremmol is a dark mage with an anger at the world. She was abandoned as a small child, and was shunned by the majority of the runescape population due to her position. The only people that would stay around her long enough to gain her trust were the dark mages north of the crafting guild. There she learned powerful dark powers. She travels the world gaining power and destroying anything she feels. She is best at spells of deception, but her skill in causing pain is growing, and may overtake. She someday wants to join forces and fight with zamorak and destroy the world that shunned her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Appearance -- She is able to change her appearance at will, but when she is working on something, her appearance is simply beautiful. A soft innocent looking face with eyes that are noticeable across an entire city. The ragged clothes she wears simply accent her beauty.

 

 

 

When she is by herself, she holds her true form. Although not ugly, it is obvious that she has suffered much through her life.

[JohnnySmum]

ForsakenMage

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Smoke. Fire. The smell of blood and rotting bodies filled the air as troops of Black Knights exited the ruins of Falador. The once highly prided castle of the White Knights was now scorched and bloodstained. Bodies of decapitated knights of both sides lay stewen in the courtyard. Shades emerged from the ground, moaning and wailing. The bankers shivered behind their teller windows, giving up all the treasure they held to the raiders, the storekeeper had fled from his store, the shield shop now empty. The sign hanging at the inn hung by one chain, the kegs empty, the barmaids no where to be seen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Somewhere near Ice Mountain, the Oracle looked in the direction of Falador and shook its head. This was not supposed to happen, the sacking of Falador. Something was surely amiss. Suddenly a shadow fell over it. It turned around, then gave out a strangled cry just as a scythe came down on it...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Not too far away at the edge of the Wilderness, Aming Heart pulled out her sword from a fallen skeleton, wiping off a bead of sweat. It had been a tiring journey from the Ice Plateau, escaping from skeletons such as the one she had just slain, ghosts, goblings, and zombies. When she reached the last few yards, she noticed a glowing fire at the Black Knights fortress and a loud chorus of laughter. Quickly she ducked under a window of the fortress and listened closely to the excited chatter.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Men! We have finally brough those wretched White Knights down! Thanks to Zamarok, we shall soon take over the kingdom, and all of this land!" said a gruff voice, assumingly the leader of the knights.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Aye! Those other kingdoms won't stand a chance with their dimwitted guards!" laughed another.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Ah, but remember, my brothers! There's still many skilled warriors out there that wander the land that are of a foreign land! We need them to join our forces. Then, virtually nothing can stop us!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There was another chorus of cheers and laughter before things settled down a bit. Aming quietly scurried away from the fortress, frowning. "Falador destroyed? Impossible.. Yet, why does my heart tell it is true?" She began to make her way through the barren land towards the Ice Mountain, then gasped when she found streaks of blood on one of its sides. "What the...?" Quickly she scaled up the side, only to choked back a cry of surprise when she found the Oracle, still, with a deep gash down the length of its body. She knelt down besides the Oracle, knowing that it was probably too late to save it, then looked at its face and realized that it was whispering something. She knelt closer to listen, then cringed at its words.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Please... stop the evil... Something far more evil than the god Zamarok himself lurks this realm... The Black Knights are only its pawns... Stop it..." The voice faded away and the Oracle fell silent forever.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aming stood up grimly, looking towards the direction of Falador. Trendils of smoke filled in the air above it, and the walls seemed almost nonexistant. How much destruction did this evil cause?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I best gather help," she thought to herself as she clambered off the mountain and began her trek towards the fallen city to seek out the survivors, if any...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Smokie

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Alduineth stood atop a tall hill, surveying the scene below with a grim horror. He was never one to show emotion, but the sight of destruction that lay beneath him invoked emotions and feelings too strong to be kept within. Falador, capital of Asgarnia, had fallen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As the Black Knight behind him gave a final wrench, Alduineth wiped the blood from his sword. He had slain many on his journey, if it could be called that, to Falador. While in Draynor Village, he had heard rumors that Falador -- no, all of Asgarnia was under siege, and rapidly failing. Almost at once Alduineth had brandished his blade and donned his armor, setting off at a dash towards Falador.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A few miles into Asgarnian lands, Alduineth had encountered a fleeing batallion of White Knights, who told him of the Black Knights, and their imminent conquest of the entire realm of Asgarnia, and perhaps even the world. With those troubling words, Alduineth had parted from the White Knights.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And now, after killing dozens of Black Knights, he found this: The great city of Falador, reduced to nothing more than a few flickering fires, and smoking heaps of rubble. As he looked across the horizon, Alduineth lay eyes on what was once the implacable fortress of the White Knights, now only a heap of bodies and disfigured stones. The buildings were in even worse condition; most were simply gone, and of the ones that remained, all were damaged beyond repair. Soot-blackened furniture lay upturned, pieces of wood lay burned into ashes, and everywhere were bodies of innocent people.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Alduineth left the hill and entered the city. As he strode along once beautifully designed streets and walkways, an unmoving figure in the middle of the road caught his attention. As Alduineth approached the figure, he realized it was a little girl. Suddenly, Alduineth was overcome by a deep anguish, and he fell to his knees and wept. "How could those savages do something like this to a little girl?" he demanded of himself. "No," he thought to himself, regaining his composure, "I will not cry, I will avenge."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

With that Alduineth picked up the doll, and tucked it away in his travelling bag. He would fight and kill those responsible, but he could not do it alone..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

JohnnySmum

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dumah swiftly rolled to the right - narrowly escaping the fiery giant's massive club. He had been searching deep within the wilderness for clues to his quest, and had stumbled across creatures too vile to be uttered by any human tongue. The foul beast towered over him, cackling an obscene boast. Surely Dumah's soul would be devoured before this day was done. The ghastly titan heaved his mallet from the earth - lifting it skywards, like a malevolent angel with far too many wings. A nefarious grin stretched itself across the width of its scabrous face.

 

 

 

Dumah, disabled by the prospect of his imminent death, noticed the faint outline of a ghostly figure appear behind the beast...

[Craven_Image]

Sorry a bit late here...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

---------------------

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Craven Image

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

An enigma of the world of Gielinor, the Craven Image is of unknown origin and wanders the world in black shadow. He is formally known for his thieving background and can be seen in the city of Ardougne. Although he can swing a sword his prowess is in his magical abilities of which can cause harm and healing.

[Craven_Image]

ForsakenMage

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Smoke. Fire. The smell of blood and rotting bodies filled the air as troops of Black Knights exited the ruins of Falador. The once highly prided castle of the White Knights was now scorched and bloodstained. Bodies of decapitated knights of both sides lay stewen in the courtyard. Shades emerged from the ground, moaning and wailing. The bankers shivered behind their teller windows, giving up all the treasure they held to the raiders, the storekeeper had fled from his store, the shield shop now empty. The sign hanging at the inn hung by one chain, the kegs empty, the barmaids no where to be seen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Somewhere near Ice Mountain, the Oracle looked in the direction of Falador and shook its head. This was not supposed to happen, the sacking of Falador. Something was surely amiss. Suddenly a shadow fell over it. It turned around, then gave out a strangled cry just as a scythe came down on it...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Not too far away at the edge of the Wilderness, Aming Heart pulled out her sword from a fallen skeleton, wiping off a bead of sweat. It had been a tiring journey from the Ice Plateau, escaping from skeletons such as the one she had just slain, ghosts, goblings, and zombies. When she reached the last few yards, she noticed a glowing fire at the Black Knights fortress and a loud chorus of laughter. Quickly she ducked under a window of the fortress and listened closely to the excited chatter.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Men! We have finally brough those wretched White Knights down! Thanks to Zamarok, we shall soon take over the kingdom, and all of this land!" said a gruff voice, assumingly the leader of the knights.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Aye! Those other kingdoms won't stand a chance with their dimwitted guards!" laughed another.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Ah, but remember, my brothers! There's still many skilled warriors out there that wander the land that are of a foreign land! We need them to join our forces. Then, virtually nothing can stop us!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There was another chorus of cheers and laughter before things settled down a bit. Aming quietly scurried away from the fortress, frowning. "Falador destroyed? Impossible.. Yet, why does my heart tell it is true?" She began to make her way through the barren land towards the Ice Mountain, then gasped when she found streaks of blood on one of its sides. "What the...?" Quickly she scaled up the side, only to choked back a cry of surprise when she found the Oracle, still, with a deep gash down the length of its body. She knelt down besides the Oracle, knowing that it was probably too late to save it, then looked at its face and realized that it was whispering something. She knelt closer to listen, then cringed at its words.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Please... stop the evil... Something far more evil than the god Zamarok himself lurks this realm... The Black Knights are only its pawns... Stop it..." The voice faded away and the Oracle fell silent forever.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aming stood up grimly, looking towards the direction of Falador. Trendils of smoke filled in the air above it, and the walls seemed almost nonexistant. How much destruction did this evil cause?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I best gather help," she thought to herself as she clambered off the mountain and began her trek towards the fallen city to seek out the survivors, if any...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Smokie

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Alduineth stood atop a tall hill, surveying the scene below with a grim horror. He was never one to show emotion, but the sight of destruction that lay beneath him invoked emotions and feelings too strong to be kept within. Falador, capital of Asgarnia, had fallen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As the Black Knight behind him gave a final wrench, Alduineth wiped the blood from his sword. He had slain many on his journey, if it could be called that, to Falador. While in Draynor Village, he had heard rumors that Falador -- no, all of Asgarnia was under siege, and rapidly failing. Almost at once Alduineth had brandished his blade and donned his armor, setting off at a dash towards Falador.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A few miles into Asgarnian lands, Alduineth had encountered a fleeing batallion of White Knights, who told him of the Black Knights, and their imminent conquest of the entire realm of Asgarnia, and perhaps even the world. With those troubling words, Alduineth had parted from the White Knights.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And now, after killing dozens of Black Knights, he found this: The great city of Falador, reduced to nothing more than a few flickering fires, and smoking heaps of rubble. As he looked across the horizon, Alduineth lay eyes on what was once the implacable fortress of the White Knights, now only a heap of bodies and disfigured stones. The buildings were in even worse condition; most were simply gone, and of the ones that remained, all were damaged beyond repair. Soot-blackened furniture lay upturned, pieces of wood lay burned into ashes, and everywhere were bodies of innocent people.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Alduineth left the hill and entered the city. As he strode along once beautifully designed streets and walkways, an unmoving figure in the middle of the road caught his attention. As Alduineth approached the figure, he realized it was a little girl. Suddenly, Alduineth was overcome by a deep anguish, and he fell to his knees and wept. "How could those savages do something like this to a little girl?" he demanded of himself. "No," he thought to himself, regaining his composure, "I will not cry, I will avenge."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

With that Alduineth picked up the doll, and tucked it away in his travelling bag. He would fight and kill those responsible, but he could not do it alone..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

JohnnySmum

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dumah swiftly rolled to the right - narrowly escaping the fiery giant's massive club. He had been searching deep within the wilderness for clues to his quest, and had stumbled across creatures too vile to be uttered by any human tongue. The foul beast towered over him, cackling an obscene boast. Surely Dumah's soul would be devoured before this day was done. The ghastly titan heaved his mallet from the earth - lifting it skywards, like a malevolent angel with far too many wings. A nefarious grin stretched itself across the width of its scabrous face.

 

 

 

Dumah, disabled by the prospect of his imminent death, noticed the faint outline of a ghostly figure appear behind the beast...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Craven Image

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A flash of red light and a scream so piecing it could dull your heart, it echoed the dark dungeon from whence it came as the attacking giant heaved in agony, it turned just in time to see it's foe but as it raised it's fiery sword again to the sight of yet another foe a sword plunged into it's stomach, its nefarious grin soon faded to a suprised and dumbfounded expression as it stumbled backwards into a pool of lava.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Craven Image immidiately saw the unconcious body of Dumah and had not contemplated coming across such findings, his own business was not finished and he had little time to care for such matters, but findings turned to thoughts... what was this man doing so far from his homeland. He soon heard the moans of creatures ahead; further down the dark passage. "Chaos Dwarfs" he mumbled to himself, "and more than I can handle, especially without my sword". He turned and swiftly made a move down a dark passage, he turned and remembered the body, he turned and ran back up the passage and dragged the body as swiftly and as quietly down the passage just as he saw the blood stained face of a Chaos Dwarf. The marching of them must of dulled the cries of the battles for they seemed as though they were marching to a destination rather than to seek out what had caused the noises. Eventually the last of the dwarfs marched down the dark passage, deeper into the dungeon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He turned around and to his surprise saw the once unconcious body alive and well, too well he thought for he had his sword drawn and shield at the ready. "You silly fool, what do you think you're going to do with that sword, if you really want to fight me just try but I must tell you that the giant you were attempting to kill is already slain, unfortunetly it was slain before it could kill you it seems." Dumah immidiately replied to the dark robed figure standing in front of him, "I don't like the tone of your voice but it seems you may of saved my life if what you say is true, but why should I trust you if you talk in that way, tell me, what is your business down here and why should I trust you?". Craven Image thought to himself and decided it was best not to get into yet another battle and thus cooperated, "Well if you really want to know, I've been paying close attention to these lands; the wilderness. Most particularly i've seen large numbers of Zamorakian troops move in order and formation over these lands, which is unusual you see," Craven Image explained. "Carry on" Dumah said. "Look that is enough about me and this is no place to talk about long stories so either you tell me what your business is or we both carry on with our travels." Dumah agreed and lowered both sword and shield, "Yes this is no place for long stories, I am but a traveller. I am seeking a clue for which I need to complete my quest." "Well now we know each other we can part," Craven Image answered. Suddenly there was a bang far down the corridor in which the Chaos Dwarfs had passed, a gate had been opened and now there could be heard in the far distances of the dungeon the rumble of a rhythmic march and the clanging of armour some distance away. "I think it is time we parted, that sounds like the unleashing of some army down there and I do not intend to see them by," said Dumah. "I agree, I shall part this dungeon". They soon came out the dark corridor in which they had talked and into the circular room where Craven Image had slain the fire giant. They swiftly ran around the pool of lava and back down the corridor from whence they came back into the cold, dark night of the wilderness.

[JohnnySmum]

The piercing cold of the nocturnal wilderness air assaulted the ill prepared warriors. Icey clouds of breath hypnotically parted from Craven's nostrils; but from Dumah, no breath could be seen.

 

 

 

The bitter frost was too much for the warriors,

 

 

 

"We must seek shelter!" Craven's belllowing command hardly rising above the wailing winds. Dumah gave an abrupt grunt of compliance.

 

 

 

Travelling south from the fire giants' lair, they passed withered trees - haunting monoliths to the Wilderness' vivid and complete decay.

 

 

 

"Stop!" Dumah had halted, and raised his nose to inhale the frigid winter air. Craven looked on, puzzled at his choice of camp.

 

 

 

"I can smell something... it's coming this wa-..." Dumah was cut off by an echoing laughter. They both knew that only pirates carried such a distinctive battle cry. The horizon diappeared under the profile of a miriad of the rogues - they must be returning from a raiding trip, heading back for thier hall deep in the wilderness. There was no time to evade them - battle was inevitable.

 

 

 

Craven threw back his flowing cape, revealing a plethora of Runestones in a scruffy satchel. Dumah looked on resentfully - he loathed "warriors" who preferred to kill their foes from afar. Much better to get into close quarters.

 

 

 

Craven grabbed a handful the elemental stones. "Too bad I can't teleport us out: we're too deep in." Craven began to chant in an ancient tongue, unfamiliar to Dumah. He looked on in amazement as a perfectly spherical orb manifested itself infront of the muttering magician. Craven closed his eyes, focusing his concentration into the spell. The ball suddenly ignited, and the intense heat emmanating off provided a welcome warmth for the warriors.

 

 

 

Craven released a defeaning shout as the orb roared into the distance, a luminous trail giving their position away. The ball of fire weaved in and out of the withered trees - setting many of them ablaze. It wailed against the wind like a tormented banshee. The pirate's laughter stopped abruptly as the majestic globule of heat crashed down in the midst of their ranks, instantly incinerating those close to its collision. The resulting explosion horribly burned dozens more - their distressing cries bringing a twisted smile to Dumah's concealed lips.

 

 

 

"Impressive," Dumah smugly remarked, "But they still appear to be coming right for us."

[ForsakenMage]

As she approached the ruins of Falador, Aming could only choke back a sob when she found the body of the little girl, the same one that Alduineth had found earlier. Carefully she laid the girl's body out and removed her cloak, covering the body and whispering a prayer to Saradomin to wish the girl's spirit a safe journey to a better place. She stood up and glanced at the smoldering ruins, unsure of what she would find there.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As she stepped inside the city limits, the first thing she noticed were the bodies of the two guards that guarded the North gates, mauled. Their dogs howled mournfully, laid down besides their fallen masters. Aming turned away, unable to look at the sight much more.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Soon she reached the ruins of the Shield Shop, but there was nothing. Only the foundation and fallen stone. Cassie, the owner, seemed to have disappeared. But judging from the blood stains on the ground, she did not disappear unharmed. To the west was the General Store. But there was no indication of life there either. She put a hand over her eyes to scan the city again, wondering if it was possible if anyone had survived.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Finally she reached the Western Branch of the Bank and gave out a sigh of relief to find a few of the bankers there alive. Quickly she reassured them the Black Knights were gone and lead them out. Some screamed in terror at the sight laid out before them. She looked over them silently before speaking up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I know... But please, if you can, help me find any survivors of this attack... You're very lucky to be alive. Let's hope there are more with such luck."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Together to treked towards the White Knight castle, their senses becoming dulled by the smell of smoke and blood. Nothing alive could be found there. Only limbs and a squire's vest were left intact. They moved on to the Eastern Branch of the Bank, where they found two more tellers; the others had perished after refusing to give up what was in the vault. Aming shook her head at the dismal scene as they exited the city through the southern gates.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"The Kingdom of Asgarnia is no longer safe... What happened?" she pondered as they made their way towards Draynor Village. There they found a battalion of badly battered White Knights seeking help in the tiny village. She looked over to a few of the villagers and asked them to help the still shocked bankers while she approached the commander.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Sir, if I may be so bold as to speak with you directly, what has happened?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The commander, a balding man with a gray beard shook his head. "I know not, m'lady. One moment we were in the courtyard of the castle preparing a line of defense having heard rumours of a possible attack from the rebels from the east, the next moment the Black Knights were upon us. Such destruction...." He choked on a sob. "My wife... my son..."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aming placed a hand on the weary armoured shoulder of the knight, nodding. "I understand, sir."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The knight nodded, then looked up at her questioningly. "M'lady, how did you get here by chance without harm?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aming told her story of having traveled through the Wilderness, hearing the conversation of the Black Knights in their fortress, then finding the Oracle. "There is a greater evil beyond what it appears to be," she added at the end of her tale. "The Black Knights are only the beginning I'm afraid, if the Oracle's words are true..."

[MPM]

Dremmol stood basking in the heat of the now smoldering white knights tower watching the moon rise through the smoke. At its peak, the entirity of the destruction was revealed. The houses to her right were still burning brightly. The surrounding town was completely leveled. Screams of merchants reached her ear, and she doubted that they would be getting any help that night. And the white knights tower? Once considered the most beautiful and strongest building in the world of runescape was crumbling and on fire. The kings own white knights sent scattering to all the points of the compas.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"What could have caused this? Such destruction i've never seen. Even my teachers would of been unable to take down this tower" she muttered into ruins. "I must find the one with so much power" muttered Dremmol to the crackling flames. I must find them and learn the secret to their power.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She reached into her pocket and removed a small bag with a powder made of dried newts eye, black demon ashes, and her blood. Then she tossed a pinch of it onto the ashes and waved her hand. The fire roared ten feet into the air.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Show me" she simply said into the roaring fire and watched as the flames formed into the shape of a man wearing robes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The man shape turned toward her. Even though it was made of fire, the eyes seemed to blaze at her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Who are you, and what business do you have disturbing me" boomed the voice.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dremmol had heard commanding voices before, many of them from her teachers, but none of them contained the raw power of this one. She boldy stepped forward and addressed the shape.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I am Dremmol. I have traveled the world seeking powerful mages to grow in power, and someday fight along with Zamorak.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Zamorak! Ha! Zamorak is a fool whos head grows with every word said. Speak not of him. If you are to fight alongside him, you too will die along with all of creation."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Alright, who are you then. You who test the power of the most powerful god of all time?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"To learn this, you must be tested. Come to the dark castle in the wilderness. There, I will find out if you are powerful enough and loyal enough in the dark arts to learn who I am."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The fire goes out, and Dremmol collapses to the ground. When she awakes, it is daylight, and she begins her quest.

[Cloaked_Shadow]

Mohammad entered a strange land, by the name of Geilenor, said by a monk, abbot langley of the monastery. He had reached here by boat from the east, and ended up in a dry, evil place. after incinerating many creatures in that dry wilderness, he emerged in the northern part of Geilenor.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mohammad sheathed his blue glowing Diamond Sword, and headed up an earthen ramp. he reached a castle made of gray bricks. He then headed up an icy mountain, the atmosphere grim. his strong silken garbs kept him warm as he came to blue figure, lying on its back. it's eyes were closed, red marks on it's face. it had a gash in its flank. i turned and saw the most depressing land scape.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As blood puddled the white snow, Mohammad walked forward. in front of him he saw the remains of what should have been a great town. the buildings were blackened, fire kindling at tops of towers. smoke rose from the town, as he walked toward it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He flipped over a stone wall, landing in a blackened street. as he walked, he glimpsed a black garden, still on fire, the wood and grass providing sufficient sustenance. he saw dead bodies littering the streets, knights, men, women, and children. his heart burst with emotion, as did a burst of burning light from his hands.

[Aleksandar]

Character Profile of Aleksandar

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aleksandar is about 5'11", with deep, knowing blue eyes, and long black hair with the gruff, stubbly remains of a beard that is ruggedly shaven. His appearance is dirty, but that is because he works hard day in and day out. He dawns apparel that he finds useful, particularly armor of the ranging sort. His normal dress consists of a black shirt and pants, and he wears a piece of cloth made of material that has yet to be identified and of a pure white color around his head like a bandana that covers his eyes (which are not pleasant to look at). The cloth was found by Aleksandar after he regained consciousness in the wilderness on the day of the incident. The cloth kept him comforted and seemed to try to show him what was going on, and he found the cloth to be warm in the cold, dark depths of the wretched forest. The cloth sometimes almost seems to speak to him and ever since he found it he has at seemingly random times envisioned events that are to come. He doesn't recognize most of the landscape or people, so he cannot make much sense of them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aleksandar is a skilled archer and is agile and skilled at using knives and daggers. His name is known well by his people and the people of the surrounding lands of his home which he makes in Kandarin by the Baxterian Falls. His skill is unsurpassed by all he has faced, and he has never lost a competition. He competes at the Ranging Guild against the best, and even they who have so toiled to master the art are awed by his sure movements and quick shots. They are even more astounded that he is blind.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aleksandar used to have very acute vision which is why he took up archery in the first place, but in a horrible incident in the Wilderness, Aleksandar was left nearly fatally wounded and blind by a group of rogue Zamorak worshippers. He fought bravely and would have been slain by the party that outnumbered him ten to one, but he fell by fate down the side of a small cliff face that dropped him about 40 feet. He miraculously survived. The Zamorak worshippers knew that Chaos Dwarves were nearby and decided to leave Aleksandar at their mercy. However the dwarves never got to him and he was found by a jolly party of warriors that had been to the wilderness in search of fame and fortunes. They seemed quite out of place in the dark forest with their merry laughter and converse, and when they stumbled upon Aleksandar they were quick to come to his aid, and rushed him to the nearest hallowed ground at the Monastery. The Abbot cared for Aleksandar until his wounds were healed, and Aleksandar left as soon as he could, for he was not one to be kept down.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After several years Aleksandar is now around the age of 32, and he is now even more skilled at archery than before. He can move with ease and his hearing and other senses are amazingly accurate and he makes it fine without sight. He could very easily be confused with the man he was 4 years before the accident, but he is more skilled and wise than that man. The incident hardened his heart, but he is not an isolated man, for he realises the valuable resource that others are, and he sees that isolation is a foolish path that only leads to a lonely, grim existance. His skill with the bow is still unmatched by any, and he still trains daily.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My contribution to the story coming soon.

[Aleksandar]

Aleksandar had been on a journey through Kandarin and Camelot to pass the White Wolf Mountain and go to Falador where he hoped to purchase a rare bow that only a few possessed. It was an ancient bow that had been found in an excavation east of Varrock. About seven of the bows had been found in what was believed to be an ancient armory, and the bows looked brand new and were in perfect (and above par) working order when brought out from the site. They had been sold for very hefty fees to a lucky few and the profits went to help fund the excavation. He hoped to possess one of these bows which were said to be infused with the power of the founding gods, not their by-products that were worshipped by people of the land today, Zamorak, Guthix, and Saradomin, but with the powers of Zaros and a few other ancient and unidentified gods. All that was known of these gods had been gathered from ancient manuscripts and art. And believe you me, not many of these manuscripts or works of art had been found.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

However, at the top of the White Wolf Mountain Aleksandar smelled a faint hint of smoke in the air and he sensed a shift in the feelings around him and in his environment. He sensed worry. He could hear and smell the usually vicious wolves yelping and scrambling by him once in a while. They would have usually not hesitated to attack him, but something had them upset. Their behavior was definitely strange. He continued on and by the end of two more days he was at the gate separating the lands of Falador from the lands of Taverly. The atmosphere was definitely that of fear, anxiety, battle, and bloodlust. The air was now heavily scented with smoke, soot, and sulfur. As he approached the city of Falador midway through the day, he could hear faint screams and moans in the distance, and sometimes eerily close. He even heard someone sprinting by him and he could sense they were nervous and hurried. He heard clanking from within their clothes. "Looter," he thought to himself. As he approached the center of town he sensed that the shadow he should be in that would be cast by the immense White Knight's Castle was absent. He realized with a shock that it was no longer standing, and was the main fuel for the fire and smoke.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aleksandar hurried his pace. "This city is no longer safe," he thought to himself, "it is no more than a harbor for criminals and rogues now." He readied his bow and knocked an arrow. He was soon out of the city and reached the southern gates. As he exited the city and approached Draynor Village he heard talking in the distance.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"...My wife... my son..." The gruff voice of a man hardened by war and destroyed by loss of the ones he loved.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I understand, sir." This time the voice of a woman, sure of herself and confident, a woman on a quest he sensed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aleksandar swiftly made his way into the clearing in which they were standing and aimed his arrow. He knew his aim was directly at the woman's neck, where the armor the he presumed was present didn't cover. A vulnerable spot that would make for an easy kill. "Who are you and what is your purpose?" he asked.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I am called Aming. I am but a warrior on a quest to understand what is going on in our land. As I'm sure you've seen, something is quite wrong."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"As a matter of fact, I haven't seen anything recently. But I don't miss a target. Are you friend or enemy? I do not wish to meddle. I came here with hopes to purchase one of the very rare ancient bows of the gods that were excavated in Varrock not too long ago. I'm sure you've heard of them, quite the topic for gossip they were a few months back. Do you know where I could hope to find one. However, I don't feel that I will be purchasing a bow, somehow I feel the bow was almost a bait to bring me to the aid of our land. Something big is going on. Something very big."

[Smokie]

Draynor Village had become a refugee camp. Day by day, hundreds of people poured in to seek protection from whatever it was that had destroyed their homes and lives. Alduineth passed by dozens of families near the outskirts of the village, and entered the market. There, daily rations were being handed out to worried-looking women and sobbing children. The sight of these ragged, harried people stirred a deep pity within Alduineth's heart. He had to do something.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Every minute I waste is another innocent's life taken," he thought to himself. "If I cannot find help soon, I will undertake this task alone, even if it means my death." As he strode into the newly-constructed Inn, "The Little Falador", Alduineth caught bits of a conversation at a table at the far end of the room.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I swear it on me mother's dead soul, may she rest in peace," said one man.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The other man frowned intently at his half-empty mug before remarking, "There's no way it be possible. The Dwarves driven out of the Mines? I can't be believin' it."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Oh, but it be true. I sawed it with me very own two eyes -- The little folk came on a scurryin' down the road, hundreds of 'em I tell ya. They was all screamin' and blitherin' about some evil soul which had possessed the mines, doin' crazy things with the rocks an' all. Go to Barbarian Village, you'll see thousands of 'em camped out, frettin' and.." Alduineth stopped listening.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A great chill entered his bones. Evil soul? Possessing the mines? What was going on? There was certainly more to the attack on Falador and this supposed "possession" of the earth than the Black Knights and a plan to conquer the world...

[Craven_Image]

The wind howled as the blurry image of several enraged pirates came towards the pair of them, Dumah prepared for battle with just his fists and Craven Image brandished a small but powerful dagger from within an inside pocket of his black robes, "and I thought I was ill prepared for close combat" cried Craven Image. Dumah was immidiately engaged in battle with a war torn, black bearded pirate, he brandished a powerful looking scimitar in one hand and slashed wildy at Dumah, fortunately the wind had taken sides with Dumah and was blowing strongly into the face of the oncoming pirate hoard. Dumah grabbed hold of the pirates neck from behind and snapped it back with the other hand, breaking his neck. Craven Image on the other hand had backed round and could make out the image of two more coming his way, he then retrieved from a wrist holster several darts made of a cyan coloured metal he immediately starting throwing them in the general direction of the pirates, one missed and the other hit one of the pirates in the shoulder, the other pirate swung for his head with a scimitar, he ducked in time and immediately struck the dagger into the oncoming pirate's chin he stumbled backwards in pain... Dumah had made great progress killing two more pirates with ease and turned to help Craven Image by striking a fatal blow to the back of the already injured pirate.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I surrender!", cried the pirate still cursing with pain from the dart which was in his left shoulder. "Hmm, this is interesting a group of pirates coming from the south... but with no loot? Surely your not dumb enough to forget the loot?" said Craven Image to the pirate, "You scoundrels, it be you who struck the first blow, we have no quarrels with peoples like you but you had to attack us," the pirate growled. "Yes I agree it was a bit hasty of him to do that but it doesn't look like you'll survive much longer with that dart in your shoulder, especially when it's poisoned," answered Dumah calmly. "What!?" cried the pirate. "Yes, as you can see you have a dart stuck in your shoulder, after five minutes the poison toxins will eventually take hold and you will die like your friends, however I have this poison cure right here", Craven Image brandished a small vial filled with a green yet slimy looking liquid. "Tell me, what was your business down south if it wasn't looting?" The pirate hestitated and then the pain took hold of him again, "OK OK, it be several nights back now, we were all happily enjoying a pint back at the old shack just further north when we heard a knock on the door. Shantani goes to answer the door he does, from where I was sittin' I could only see a dark shape, whatever it was, he was wearing black armour or dark robes, he talked for a while but did not enter, then Shantani closes the door and sits down and tells of his little chat. It turned out that the Dark Warriors down south needed our assistance which be quite unusual and we would be payed a great deal for our duties. The next day we set off all the way down south to the castle of the Dark Warriors. What we saw there was to take our breath away for the castle was under siege, hobgoblins lined the walls in order and formation and within the ranks of hobgoblins could be seen the dark shapes of black demons. We had second thoughts but we carried on and tried to flank the hoardes, unfortunetly most of our number were wiped out and the few stragglers that did survive got killed by you scoundrals, now give me the cure or let me die in peace." Craven Image handed the old pirate the green slimy potion and he poured some on his wound and then drank the rest, Dumah had his sword ready and made sure he wasn't going to bother them again he growled and walked off into the distance, holding his injured shoulder.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Very interesting" murmured Craven Image. "What is?" answered Dumah. "Well what do you think? The pirate says he's been south to defend the dark warriors, surely the Asgarnians have not dared to attack the northern realms? If they haven't then there must be a force greater than the Zamorakian traits of the dark warriors," replied Craven Image, "Hmm well either way we haven't introduced ourselves, although I'm not content with companions on my travels I'd rather I know who I was travelling with. I am Dumah last of the Sarafan Priests," Dumah stated. "Well greetings Dumah, I am known as the Craven Image but you can call me Craven if you wish, I prefer to disclose my background but I'm sure this will not mean I hold anything against you," Craven replied. "Very well an introduction is an introduction, anyway if anything goes by what the dark warriors do i'd guess they have rebelled against a power too evil for even them to handle," Dumah said. "Well I have no place to go but south now, the wilderness is no place to be in times like this, follow me if you wish," Craven Image stated, "I follow whoever I choose and go wherever I wish," said Dumah in a slightly louder voice. "Very well... we might even have time to see if that pirate really has told the truth about the events at the dark castle..."

[Cloaked_Shadow]

my character flips in the air alot, cuz i can do flips in the air, and i train with the sword as well. so dont be annoyed at his constant front flips and back flips :D

[Armaneth]

Late I am at finding this. I was in both Kawrae's(Which failed misserably) and Hell_s_Judge's Forum Legends. My character in those was Corwin, but times change. Well, here is my character.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Armaneth; Mage, Swordsman, and former King of Aeth

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Not much can be said of Armaneth in Geilinor. Rumor says that he is a traveller of realms, and that he has come now to what the residents call RuneScape. He wields magic well, his style very diffirent from the native mages. Armaneth is also a master swordsman, having taken out a demon in a single slash. This however, has yet to be proved.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Armaneth is rarely seen by anyone, tending to stay hidden in shadows. He wears a heavy dark blue cloak, which hides the chainmail he wears.

 

 

 

(http://www.geocities.com/armaneth27 for a more complete profile)

 

 

 

-----------------------------------------------

 

 

 

I would like to add that I rarely control another person's character because in the past I've caused problems when I did.

[Cloaked_Shadow]

Mohammad walked forward, over ashes and bones. daggers could be seen beside a fountain dry of water. this area was littered with chain-mailed guards' bodies. Too much evil was in the air, something reawakened within Mohammad. A shadow from his past (All who have read shadows will understand this) , it flooded his veins, attacked his lungs, a flowed to his brain. his eyes were incomprehensible as they were now solid black.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

His hand unwillingly raised to his sword, he fought to keep it down. if he could just summon one burst of magic, he could rid himself of the shadow. he tried to call upon an emotion to feed his magic, but it wouldnt come. he lost control, his sword slipped from it sheath and a great ball of pulsing shadow appeared in his hand. A loud roar shattered glass near him.

[ForsakenMage]

"As a matter of fact, I haven't seen anything recently. But I don't miss a target. Are you friend or enemy? I do not wish to meddle. I came here with hopes to purchase one of the very rare ancient bows of the gods that were excavated in Varrock not too long ago. I'm sure you've heard of them, quite the topic for gossip they were a few months back. Do you know where I could hope to find one. However, I don't feel that I will be purchasing a bow, somehow I feel the bow was almost a bait to bring me to the aid of our land. Something big is going on. Something very big."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aming turned around to get a better look at Aleksandar, frowning at his bow and arrow. Her hand thought to move her staff, but then remained still, knowing the arrow may very well kill her before she could utter a spell.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"You would not be purchasing a bow anytime soon, I'm afraid. There has been much disaster in the recent state of events. I kindly ask you to lower your weapon lest you desire to kill me and stain the soil untouched by war under me with my blood before I tell you what I have to say that may very well bear great importance to you." She calmly turned away and sat down on a crate not to far from a burning fire that some of the knights have started.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aleksandar looked around the area for a moment, then lowered his bow and arrow. Aming looked towards his general direction and motioned him to sit down on another crate not too far away.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"My story is this: I have been wandering this land for some time, mainly the vast Wilderness far north of here, to learn of people's ways of living and gain some knowledge in various forms of magic. It was by chance I happened to reach the Black Knights Fortress near the edge of the Wilderness. I overheard their rather loud meeting from the outside under a window. It seems they plan to take over the Kingdom of Asgarnia. Already they have destroyed Falador as you may have seen, and have full intentions of possibly attacking Port Sarim and the quiet village of Rhimmington. Creatures and humans alike have fled into other areas for safety it would seem." She glanced over at the commander of the White Knight battalion, who gazed into the fire, still shell-shocked. "This one battalion was lucky enough to escape and find safety here."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aleksandar nodded a little. "I have seen the damage Falador has suffered, and what is worse looters and criminals now plague the once prided city of the kingdom."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aming nodded in return before standing up. "I must check on the survivors of the attack I have brought here to see that they're all right. In the meantime, I suggest you rest. I'm afraid you may find yourself unwillingly in the defense of this village before the night is over."

[Aleksandar]

Just keep in mind my character is blind, and he'd be lsot without the cloth 'round his eyes. That is what really sharpens his senses. That could factor into the story later.

[Aleksandar]

Aleksandar was annoyed by Aming's reference to sight many times in their conversation. He had heard her sit down, and when she didn't verbally invite him to as well, he just made the decision to sit down on his own. The fact that she believed that they may be in the defense of this village by nightfall unnerved him, but it also excited him. His fingers itched to knock and fire an arrow again, for it had been too long.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Despite Aming's wise suggestion of rest, Aleksandar decided to explore. He had never been this far east before, and he wished to discover what the landscape was like. He went to the well treaded road between Draynor and Falador and began a trek westwardly along the road. When he came to the fork, instead of heading north to the desolated remnants of Falador, he turned south where he smelled fish. In truth, he had been following the scent the entire way. Once he had made it to the path it was easy. At the fork the scent was strong and easily traceable. When he approached the town, he noticed the town (presumably a port) was in a frenzy. Everyone was in a hurry and were passing him hastily in the street. He heard shouts and the sound of doors and windows being bolted shut. People were yelling and trying to get things closed up. Aleksandar quickened his pace to a jog and found his way to the dock.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Blinding white. This was the way it had happened so rarely before. The blinding recognition of light again. His eyes focused. He could see past the dock to the ocean beyond. The cloth had allowed him a vision again. For how long he could not guess. It usually lasted a few seconds, miraculously once more than a minute. But this time it was different. He knew it at once. It wasn't a vision of something to come. He could see the present right now. He looked around and saw the town (Port Sarim by the signs on the shops) had been closed up. Nothing was open, and the people had evacuated. He looked back out to the ocean. On the horizon a fleet of ships were approaching. Too fast. He saw that now. The ships were coming faster than could be possible. But it was happening. The cloth didn't cause him to be delusional. Glints of armor. Black armor. They were Black Knights. Hoards of them. An unimaginable force. More than three times the amount of the refugees that were in Draynor. The vision began to fade. The sight before him was dulling at the edges. A grey fog began to envelop the picture before him. Then blackness. He hated that part. The cold departing. Being left alone. It felt so terrible. He quickly recovered though, it had happened enough times before that he was accustomed to it, but every time that cold, hateful feeling occured, he knew that a part of him was lost and would never be recovered.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I'm afraid you may find yourself unwillingly in the defense of this village before the night is over." He remembered Aming's words with a chill on his hasty return to the village. Aleksandar wished now, more than ever, that he still had his vision so he could be of more help to the people of Draynor. In the coming hours, they would need assistance terribly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aleksandar came sprinting into Draynor Village, breathless. "Black Knights are about to dock in Port Sarim, they will probably already have docked by now. They shall be upon the village within the coming hour!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There was a silence that saturated the air for no more than a moment, and then an outburst. Aming came running up to Aleksandar. "Are you sure? You are blind after all, how could you know?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I know it might sound strange, but the cloth I wear around my eyes is no normal piece of material, it's not even from these lands. Sometimes it grants me visions, but today it granted me sight. It was wonderful, and then I saw the black ships on the horizon. They were moving much to swiftly, as if one of the gods was giving them the winds necessary for the quick travel."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aming was wringing her hands. She was nervous, but she quickly regained her composure and became the natural leader she was. She began to bark out orders to the surviving White Knights and all who could fight, and they listened.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

At that time Aleksandar thought to himself, "We just might be all right. We just might make it."