Once more, for old times' sake!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Name: Marcus Du'Gace

 

 

 

Combat focus: Rapier

 

 

 

Secondary focus: Crossbow

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Marcus hails from the lesser-known Du'Gace family of the Misthalin nobility. Taught from an early age the intricacies of duplicity and espionage, Marcus' duty to his family was to be a spy within the Camelot court.

 

 

 

Now of age - at twenty-four years - he is nearing the end of his journey to Camelot, and is due to reach his destination within a week. Under the guise of a travelling duelist, he travels lightly and makes certain that it is impossible to track him within a city, keeping a low profile and giving false names, though no authorities are even aware of him.

 

 

 

Standing at 6'2", with brown eyes and black hair, Marcus carries himself with a quiet, guarded nobility. He can trace his family line back to the now-legendary Zonorhc of the Royal Misthalin Lancers, but makes no outward sign that would indicate his heritage. He typically wears nondescript brown and black clothing, along with an ancient black cloak that, within the family, is said to have been worn by the Lancer himself. Marcus wears no jewelry on his person, save for a tiny brooch on his tunic which bears his family's crest, a double-bladed glaive of sapphire over an obsidian moon.

The relatively new White Knight Inn and Tavern in the village of Draynor was unexpectedly quiet, taking into account the time of day - which was mid-afternoon - and the current patronage. Marcus sat in a corner close to the fireplace, and marked three patrons who would be likely to cause trouble; one at the bar, a half-goblin, if one would note his slightly off-colour skin, sloping brow and tapering ears; another at the bar, a full-blooded goblin, not exactly taking pains to hide himself or his short sword; and a man at a table about fifteen feet away from him, whose eyes darted about, surveying the common room.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There was a slight drizzle outside, as there had been since Marcus arrived earlier in the day. The roads from Lumbridge were just a little muddy, and he had been accosted by a would-be bandit. Surveying the patrons of the White Knight again, he silently cursed at this rural end of Misthalin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The barkeep and proprietor of the White Knight had earlier introduced himself as Emlar, and was a jovial, heavyset man of around forty, if Marcus' estimation was correct. He stood behind the bar, cleaning mugs and plates for the evening meal. From the smell coming from the kitchen, Emlar's daughter, Iris, was preparing geese. It was poor fare, though considering the supplies required by the standing militia, it was comparatively rich. Marcus' thoughts dwelled on the recent battle he had heard of. With respect to the circumstances and conditions regarding the western roads, he estimated that his journey to Kandarin would be delayed at least a week or two. Marcus chafed at the thought.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He caught the stare of the man with the darting eyes, who quickly averted his gaze, to observe the two at the bar. Marcus curiously followed suit.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The half-goblin had his tankard raised high, and was closely scrutinizing the contents. "Not pure ale," he said to Emlar. "This ale dirty. Demand new ale, on the house."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The barman glared at him for the accusation, and the pure-blood laughed. "Half-breed no can take ale! Half-breed head too big for his shoulders! No stomach for a bit of dirt? Me thinking COURT-BRED half-bree - OOF!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The half-goblin struck the pure-blood with his still-full tankard, knocking the smaller greenskin off his stool. With a startled cry as the half-goblin advanced, the pure-blood tumbled away, drawing his sword and rubbing his jaw. Emlar stood calmly, one hand remaining under the bar, possibly to draw a weapon in case he was assaulted or too much damage was caused to his establishment. As it was, the only damage that could be caused was the death of any of the two troublemakers, so he left those alone. The two combatants exchanged attacks for a few moments, none finding their mark, before the man with the darting eyes stood, drawing his dagger.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Stop fighting, now! I command it!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Marcus perked up. "Don't interrupt. It's fun to watch this. Besides, you've no authority over them."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The man spun around to regard him, bewildered anger in his cold blue eyes. "INSOLENCE! I will not tolerate your questioning my authority! I am... I am..." he paused for a moment, searching for a likely title. "I am a COURTIER OF VARROCK!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Really? You don't behave like it. Besides, I'd recognize you if you were. Trying to cause trouble for the fun of it? Sit down. Be quiet."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The man rushed at marcus with his dagger, but the courtier sprang to his feet, kicking his chair at his assailant and drawing his dagger in one fluid motion. The man jumped to the side just in time to avoid tripping over the chair, though he did not duck quickly enough to dodge the tankard that flew from Marcus' hand, striking him in the face and sending him to the floor. He quickly got to his feet, but found Marcus coming at him, dagger in hand. Marcus halted his advance, and pushed a table aside to allow more space for movement. The two combatants circled each other for a moment, before the half-goblin fell through the air, landing between them, with the pure-blood leaping over a table towards him, lunging with the shortsword, catching the half-goblin as he stood, plunging the blade into his stomach.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The half-goblin clawed at the steel in his gut, gurgling as his blood poured from the wound as well as his mouth. His eyes rolled up into his head, then, slipping off the blade, he fell to the floor with a meaty thud.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The goblin spat on the corpse, before turning to walk back to the bar. With a startled cry, he jerked as the man plunged his dagger into his back. He fell without another sound.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"That wasn't particularly honourable," Marcus said pointedly to the man. "Staring down a goblin before you run him through is one thing. Stabbing him in the back as he walks away peacefully? Hell, that's just plain cowardly. I'm surprised you haven't - WHOA!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Marcus dodged to the side just in time to avoid the man's dagger, which flew through the air, lodging into the far wall. Surprised and off-balance, he fell to the ground as the man tackled him. His vision flashed red as he was struck in the face with a fist, and he retaliated with a knee to the man's groin. He was rewarded with a pained grunt as the man rolled off him, clutching the spot where Marcus' knee had struck. Marcus knocked him out with the pommel of his dagger, before heading up to his room to replace his ale-splashed clothes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He barely noticed the wide grin on Emlar's face as he mounted the stairs. He was too worried that the brawl would attract the attention of the authorities. He did not like being questioned, much less by a watchman or an upstart military commander trying to assert his authority.

I thought Aleksander would have replied by now. Oh well, I'm going through one of those impatient moods I tend to have so I'll go ahead and add on.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I was hoping it wouldn't be a bad day today." Armaneth said as he looked around, expecting something to emerge from the water and attack them. Aleksander and Aming were also looking around, not knowing what to expect.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"We'll have to jump." Aleksander said as he picked up his bow and slung it over his shoulder. Before anyone could object he had dived over, Aming and Armaneth soon after. As they surfaced the boat shattered from some magical force. Armaneth spotted a chain of rocky outcrops leading to the island, and begun swimming towards it. No coaxing was needed to get Aming or Aleksander to follow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Something erupted out of the water behind them, Aming was the first to twist around. What was now where the boat exploded only a few seconds ago was a figure robed in black, wielding a scythe. Armaneth was now facing it, Aleksander didn't have to. Instead, he swam faster, knowing that this was an evil that couldn't be fought, yet. Aming was soon after him, but Armaneth held back. He wanted to try this new enemy's strength. Surely it couldn't be more powerful than his demon brother once was. (Whom by the way, nearly brought about the destruction of Aeth, but was slain by Armaneth before he could(More on this later in a diffirent thread...))

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Before Armaneth could make a decision, the figure vanished, leaving Armaneth with chills of his reminded past. He swam after Aleksander and Aming, who had already reached the first of the outcroppings.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Who, or what was that?" Armaneth asked when he had gotten beside the mage. The question obviously troubled her. "Nevermind, it can wait." Armaneth told her as he started off towards Entrana.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ok Aleksander, I hope you post soon.

Marcus returned to the common room a little under a quarter of an hour later, and found Emlar mopping the last of the goblins' blood from the floor. The furniture, it seemed, had been returned to its original state earlier, and his unnamed assailant from before sat bound and gagged in a corner, feebly kicking and making muffled sounds.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I do not believe this would look too well if the authorities arrive, master Emlar," said Marcus, waving a hand towards the man in the corner, "considering how he has been bound in a fashion which would suggest that the one who had control of the rope is trained in subduing and restraining captives."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The barkeep grinned. "Nothing much escapes you, master..." he trailed off, raising an eyebrow in enquiry.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Marcus smiled. "Amiel. Kiran Amiel." Best not to let your identity slip out, he remembered.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Master Kiran," repeated Emlar with a nod. "I may have indulged in some rather, shall we say, unorthodox business in the past. I have settled down of course, and am perfectly happy here in Draynor with my daughter."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Marcus' smile widened. "Of course," he said. Hearing boots grinding the dirt outside, he added with a wave to the bar, "You should hide that crossbow you keep over there a little better. It does not give a very good sense of hospitality. Try to keep your spare bolts under the bar, as well. Oh, and I would advise agaisnt that mace you have hidden behind the bottles - it's far too large to use in the event of a serious fight in here, and not very easily drawn."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Emlar smiled again as he turned to tend to the bar. Marcus returned to his former table, and pretended to be napping, as the door opened, and several rough-looking men came in, some slightly bruised, and all wearing matching tabards. Soldiers, he thought. Muddy boots... Fresh into town. Black tabards... Khariddian army. Two to the left, barefoot with no colours... Sailors from Port Sarim. He was satisfied with what he found with that one glance, and sat still, listening in on conversations.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Nasty stuff earlier at the docks," one sailor remarked. "Huge beast attacked and destroyed a boat, luckily enough, two or three people fought it off. Nasty stuff."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I'd burn before I could identify what that thing was, though," the other chimed in, "but those people looked fairly strong, and they were heading to Entrana or something."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Entrana? Interesting. You might want to check that out later, Marcus. Suspicious to flee a battlezone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Without a sound, he stood and returned to his room. He spent a few minutes oiling his rapier and dagger, and made sure that all his gear was in his backpack. His waterskin was there, as were his rations for the journey. A fifty-foot coil of rope lay in the bag as well, along with a grappling hook, climbing gear, several changes of clothes and a fresh case of crossbow bolts. Picking up all his possessions, he returned to the common room, left some coins on the bar and walked outside, ignoring the slight downpour. He noted that it was an hour and a half till dusk, and a full moon was due out tonight.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Might be a little slow on foot. Appropriate a horse. Fishermen's boats should be coming in to Port Sarim. Commandeer one. Entrana isn't hard to find.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Marcus arrived at the docks of Port Sarim an hour later, with enough light for him to see by and enough shadows for him not to be seen. He was thoroughly soaked, and his legs ached a little from the ride. The horse he had taken seemed to be tired as well. Not bothering to tie it to a post or take it to a stable, he deftly found a small, swift-looking fishing boat, noting it as the Swooper, property of Captain Thresnor. He quickly loosened the anchoring rope, and pushed off from the dock with a long pole. He set to maintaining the sails, and, taking his bearings from the port town, set a course for Entrana.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was a little over thirty minutes of favourable wind conditions and some course corrections that Marcus spotted a long chain of rocky outcroppings leading to a larger island. He picked out three figures on the rocks, though he did not wish to approach just yet. He raced ahead of them on the waves, confident that his appropriated boat had not been spotted. Finding a beach, he grounded the fishing vessel and ran along the predicted course of the three he had seen, and laid low behind some rocks, awaiting their approach, crossbow loaded and at the ready.

Hm kind moving along slow isn't it? Anyway:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aming wrenched out the water from her hair and took a good look around the area, frowning a little at its strange quietness. Normally there would be the sound of wild animals roaming around, or at least the song of a cricket. Instead, it was just a dead, empty silence. The image of the cloaked figure with a scythe had already worried her greatly, and now hearing only silence her made her fear her worries came true. Whatever they were seeking for may already be gone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Aleksander, where do we go from here?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aleksander didn't appear to have heard her as he trained his hearing onto something else. The sound of someone watching them and breathing quietly. His sense of hearing was more sharp than the others having to accomodate for his blindness, and he rose a hand to signal the others to be silent. Armaneth looked over to Aming again, who shrugged in return.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Meanwhile Marcus watched from not too far away, his crossbow aimed at Aleksander in particular, knowing that this man sensed his presence but had not detected where he was yet. He watched as the other two followed him over a mossy mound, then stopped midway.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Does anyone else get the feeling we're being watched?" Aleksander asked outloud.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aming nodded a little. "If you mean by that cloaked figure-"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"No, I'm not talking about that... whatever that is. I'm talking about something else. And definately not those we seek."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

'You think we were followed?" Armaneth asked.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Maybe."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aming glanced around the area again nervously. Something inside kept telling her to hurry inside the island, that danger was rapidly approaching them fast. "Something is not right... Not right at all... I don't feel comfortable being here."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Neither do I, Marcus thought, listening to them intently still.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"You sense something, Aming?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Before she could reply, the sky above them began to grow dark, and a low growl of thunder was heard. Armeneth looked up and frowned. "This isn't going to be some ordinary st-"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"GET OUT OF HERE!" Alexsander shouted, running under a cliff. But the warning came too late as great stones lit ablaze fell earthwards. Marcus scrambled away from his spot and headed for a cliff not too far away but hidden from them to take shelter. Armaneth and Aming ran after Alexsander towards the cliff as fast as they could, dodging the stones as they came down. Armaneth managed to get under the cliff besides Alexsander, but Aming wasn't so lucky. In her haste, she tripped over one of the rocks, suffering a burn on her leg as she fell. As she scrambled to get up, more stones seemed to come down upon her. She gave out a gasp of pain as she finally managed to get up, struggling to walk as more stones pelted her back and now and again. Seconds later she was under the cliff and fell wearily onto the ground, trembling violently from the pain of the burns and blows. The group watched as the sky was lit up by fire and the stones pelted the ground. Above the sound of stones crashing into one another was a voice that boomed loudly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"This is only a small demonstration of my power! Do not underestimate what I have in store for you all!" it said, crackling wildly as the skies cleared, leaving behind a white mist that seemed to cling in the air.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aming glanced up at the sky, a determined and pained look on her face. "You may have taken some of my blood," she whispered, "But you will never take my life." She turned to the others, getting up slowly and using the cliffside to support herself. "We better hurry into the island in case another freak storm like that happens again."

These three were present when the monster attacked the port. Odd... Trouble seems to follow them. Who are they? Marcus shifted slightly, taking care not to make any noise. He relaxed a little, but kept his crossbow aimed at Alexsander.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I agree with Aming," said Armaneth, "we really should try and get onto the main island soon."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Alexsander nodded. "He's right. It's not healthy for us to stay out here. We're still being watched, though it doesn't feel as malevolent as it should. I'm sensing something along the lines of... curiosity?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"What are you on about?" asked Aming as they continued walking.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"We're being watched. Whoever it is, they're good at staying quiet. I can feel that they're there, but I don't hear a sound. I don't feel hostility, but you can never be too careful." Alexsander readied his bow. "Still, it's not hard to be curious as to who it is, or what their motives -" he cut his statement short, and suddenly tensed. "There's something else."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Armaneth and Aming glanced frantically around. "Not another useless lackey," muttered Armaneth.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Far from useless," replied a sinister voice from the rocks above. "I, M'xtralnioth, half-dragon progeny of the black dragon Kras'nuxoth, have been sent to destroy you, and that I shall."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The figure stood tall, his green-black cloak flapping in the wind. A vaguely human face adorned his head, though forward-curving black horns jutted from his cheeks, and his skin was stretched tight, being absent in some places, leaving the bone exposed. His eyes burned with a cold hunger, and he held a single longsword, though he held something in his left hand, apparently sets of wooden orbs bound by cord.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Alexsander let loose an arrow, barely missing their assailant's head, and both Armaneth and Aming dropped to the rocky ground as sets of bolas wrapped around their arms and legs. Armaneth swore loudly. M'xtralnioth leapt down from his perch, taking an arrow in his left shoulder and knocking down Alexsander as he landed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I had been led to believe that you were a strong group," M'xtralnioth gloated as he pinned Alexsander down with a foot, holding his longsword to the blind archer's neck. "I am displeased at the lack of a challenge. Nevertheless, I shall feast on your corpses."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Marcus crouched and took aim at the half-dragon. Interested in Alexsander's abilities, he would not let the blind archer die so easily. He quickly loaded a special bolt into the crossbow, one fitted with a rounded head designed to quietly incapacitate rather than kill. "Feast on this, scum," he called out as he let fly, striking M'xtralnioth in the temple, knocking him to the ground, unconscious.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He approached the downed Alexsander and helped him up, before drawing his dagger and cutting off the bolas binding Armaneth and Aming. "You should tie that one up," he said, pointing to the unconscious half-dragon. "If you don't have any rope, I have some in my pack."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He noted the surprised looks on the trio's faces. He added, extending his hand, "Oh, by the way, I am Kiran Amiel. Nice to meet you."

"Well Kiran, if that is your true name," Armaneth said as he bound the would-be hunter with magical bonds., "How is it that you came here? I didn't see any ships left at the dock when we left."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Fishing boats had come in, the dock was somewhat repaired." Marcus replied. He was sitting on one of the rocks nearby, watching Aleksander and Armaneth bound the prisoner. When they were done Armaneth looked at the sword the creature had carried. Instead of picking it up and taking it to sell, he kicked it into the waves.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I guess he was another useless lackey after all." Armaneth commented with a smirk. He seemed a bit more at ease, and the others could feel something ancient about him now, something dormant. "Well Kiran, you knocked him out, you can carry him. We might be able to get some information from him."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Marcus shrugged and drug the captive mercilessly behind as the group made their way toward Entrana. Suddenly Armaneth stopped short, tensed, and looked around as though seeking something hidden. The group pressed him to say what was wrong, but he simply urged them to keep quiet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Can you not feel it Aleksander?" he whispered. "Something isn't as it should be here. I sense something ancient. Some ancient evil. I felt it when I last saw that hooded figure, but now it's even stronger. We must be wary." He continued on, more determined now to find out what it was that drew them here.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When the group reached the top of the hill what they saw was both great and terrible. Best described as a great hole, what lay before them was an anomaly that both inhaled and exhaled everything and everything. At its fringe whatever it touched both grew old and young at the same time. What lay before the party, was a tear in time itself. At the center of the tear could be seen the past, a past that Aming recognized. Where the tear lead, was the middle a war, a war that Aming had been in with others.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Suddenlythe group was assailed by many sights and sounds, and the tear actually moved towards them, and as it moved the sounds got louder, the sights more vivid. They had no time to move, the anomaly was upon them, and each was sweft into chaos.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One by one the group awoke, every nerve in their bodies screaming. No one could move for a good few hours, so draining the experience had been. Aming and Armaneth, being stronger in spirit and more filled with magic, were the first to even sit up. Soon Aleksander and Marcus rose, but their prisoner was no where to be seen. They were laying in a field, the sun beginning to set.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Where are we?" Aleksander asked.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Not where, when. " Was Aming's grim reply.

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

EDIT:Post lengthened, we are now where we left off in Hell_s_Judge's Legends thread, before we were split up and sent on seperate paths to find some artifacts. All old characters may be used.

Darn! Just visited the library for the first time in a while, and noticed this post, awesome story...wish you guys were accepting characters :( :wink:

Rawr!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I'm pleased to announce that I'll be flexing my creative muscles and will be soon jumping into this story. I talked with Magey and agreed on a method of me jumping in without disrupting you guys's storyline(s).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I have no interweb at home, so I'll write on my computer then post at school, so bear with me, okay? :P

Glad to see it, you missed a lot last time. This will be very interesting.

New spots may be open soon so keep watching the subject title! :shock:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Anyway, because Aleksander has not posted for a while, I'm going to post. What's going to happen is that until Aleksander comes back, participants are going to have to try to take him along through the storyline the best they can.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And here goes my part. Note: I worked on this during my break while at school so please don't harass me about sentence structure if it comes out awkward. I don't work well on an empty stomach. :lol:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"What do you mean, 'when'?" Marcus asked, looking at Aming suspiciously.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I mean what I say," she replied, glancing around nervously.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"A tear in time," Armaneth said grimly. "From the looks of things, we've been thrown back."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"At least seventy or so years back," Aming adds. "And during that time a great war was fought, myself being unfortunately one of its participants. I'd explain more now, but where we stand is a dangerous spot. We must move quickly to a safer area. I know a place not far from here that should still be intact. At least for another few weeks if my estimation of how far we've been thrown back is correct."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The sky was growing increasingly dark as the hours wore on. Aleksander turned his head now and again at each new sound, taking note of everything around him, knowing that coming to a strange, yet oddly enough not all that strange, land could inevitably lead to trouble if one was not careful enough. The others followed silently, each with their own thoughts.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Marcus stared at Aming's back, wondering just who exactly she was. At first the startling revelation that they were thrown over half a century back in time made him wonder how was it possible Aming kept her youthful appearance in the present if she had existed for so long, then shook off the ridiculous question. Now isn't the time to think of such things, Marcus. Better to focus on how you're going to get back first.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Meanwhile Armaneth followed closely behind Aming, wondering where exactly she was leading them until they came upon the northern gates of...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Falador?" The city didn't appear to have any differences to the present other than its citizens. Aming motioned them to hurry to a small shack on the north eastern side of the city, then opened a hidden trap door and urged them forward. As soon as everyone was inside, she closed it, murmering a spell to light of the area with a ball of light in her hand. In the room were several old chairs and a table, a few cots, and a stove in the corner. No window or hole to view the outside world was in sight.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Well, we're not going to sit here like ducks are we?" Aleksander asked. "We need to find a way to get back!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I'm beginning to wonder if this is what fate had in store for us," Armaneth wondered out loud. "Maybe whatever attracted you to Crandor was actually that tear, Aleksander."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Or that was purely coincidence," was Marcus' monotone response.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Whatever it was, I don't like it any better than you three," Aming interupted. "I haven't much time to explain, so listen carefully."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For the next few hours Aming hurriedly described to them the war that she had fought in with many comrades, including a skilled lady archer, a mysterious warrior, a powerful monk, a lady mage like herself, an artful thief, and others. The battles between orcs, trolls, and even the "Judge" she retold brought back memories of pain and sorrow that brought tears to her eyes and stirred anger in her heart.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"The cloaked figure we saw back in our time, I'm afraid, could very well be the same person my friends and I fought in this time, the Hell's Judge. It had taken many years before we could finally defeat him, and with that defeat came the slow rebuilding of the unstable world. When I sensed an unbalance back in our time, I was afraid it was him, and my worst fears came true." She looked up at the ceiling, where shouts from the White Knights marching in the streets above them could be heard. "They're preparing to attack an approaching army of trolls. Soon we must flee from here, or we may-"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Before she could finish her sentence, there was a loud explosion that sent everyone flying to one side of the room. Aming dropped the ball of light in her hand and the room plunged into darkness for a few seconds until Armaneth recovered it for her. What they found before them was a sight to behold.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Earth warriors and Chaos dwarves! Dozens of them!" Marcus whispered.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Be mixed into an ambush," Aming weakly finished her sentence. They're not supposed to come from here, she thought, frowning. They're supposed to flood from the South gates into the city. Has there been a change in history some how? She stood up, staff in hand. "Prepare to battle!" she warned them just as the Earth warriors and Chaos dwarves lunged for them, weapons raised.

"Hold!" Marcus shouted at the dwarves, ignoring the mute Earth Warriors and raising his crossbow to his shoulder. None responded. Not good. He hurriedly took aim and shot a dwarf, bringing it to the ground but not killing it, though taking it out of the fight. "Mark that one!" he called to his companions. "Interrogate him later!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I mark twelve dwarves and three Earth Warriors," called Armaneth as he brought down two dwarves, "don't let the darkness cause you to overestimate!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Marcus had barely finished reloading his crossbow when a dwarf was upon him, swinging his hammer wildly until an arrow from Aleksander lodged itself in the space between his upper lip and nose, dropping him. Marcus made a note to thank the archer later as he struck a dwarf in the leg, dropped his crossbow and drew his rapier, preparing to join Armaneth at the front.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He executed combinations of feints and thrusts with lightning speed, bringing down another dwarf as Armaneth and Aming each destroyed an Earth Warrior. He darted through the mel̮̩̉̉e, flanking any enemy Armaneth engaged for greater effectiveness as Aming and Aleksander rained arrows and magic on four more dwarves. He and Armaneth brought down another dwarf, and as they both moved to a new target, Marcus caught sight of something large and brown out of the corner of his eye. He ducked to the side just in time to avoid being brained, but his head still took the majority of the blow. His vision faded to black as he sailed through the air and struck a wall, falling unconscious to the floor.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"... Surprised he's still alive..."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"That blow sounded painful."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Good thing he saw it just in time... Wait, what's that on his cloak?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Marcus awoke to the sight of his three companions tending to his injuries. Aleksander took a close watch on the newly-blown tunnel whilst Armaneth and Aming pressed ice to his head and back.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The floor around him was littered with the shattered remains of Earth Warriors, bits of brick and mortar from the wall and red-skinned dwarven corpses. One dwarf lay still in the corner, bound by ropes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aming smiled as he opened his eyes. "Hello, descendant of Zonorhc, captain of the Royal Misthalin Lancers, wielder of the double-bladed spear Aeglos-Corsin, original bearer of this cloak and brooch and adventuring companion of mine. I think you have some explaining to do."

"He can explain later Aming." Armaneth said as he looked over the blow. "Atleast let the swelling go down, I'm sure it's hard for him to think at the moment." Armaneth waved his hand slowly over Marcus's eyes, and he immediately fell asleep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Armaneth walked to a secluded area n the room, then turned and faced Aming and Aleksander. "If the story you told is true, Aming, then I must summon that which I deem should only be used in dire situations. I'll need you to be quiet, and prepare to be assualted cold."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

With that, he held his hands out, palms upward, and began muttering in a language unknown to any of this world. A light appeared above Armaneth's hands, and his chanting sped up, became louder. The light grew, and began to form into the shape of a sword. A frozen mist enveloped the caster, and spread out into the room. Just as the room filled, the mist suddenly sank into the light, and the sword became reality.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Quickly Armaneth wrapped a cloth around the sword's hilt, and grasped it. The sword itself looked to be made of ice and sapphire. Lights danced within it, runes glowed along the bottom of the blade.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Behold," Armaneth spoke in a near booming voice, "The Legacy of Aeth, Frostwind!" At the mention of the name a bright light shone from the sword, then dissipated. He quickly sheathed the sword, then leaned agains the wall, as if he was exausted. Aleksander nearly fell down from shock, Aming hardly fared better. Ice crystals formed where Armaneth stood, as well as along the walls.

And here we go again. Gonna open slots probably tomorrow..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

~~~~~~~~~

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aming shivered a little in the cold, looking at Armaneth in awe, then hurried to the stove in the corner and set some logs inside on fire to warm the room a bit. "The pipe leads up into another one that connects to the stove upstairs," she mumbled while busily stirring the embers. "We won't suffocate. Plus that tunnel just added some more breathing room."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She walked back over to where Marcus was asleep on a cot, shaking her head. "I feel silly not having sensed it earlier that he was Zonorhc's descendent. It's a very strange coincidence..." For the next few moments, her eyes glanced over his cloak and brooch now and again, deep in thought until Armaneth broke them gently.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Aming, we can't stay here for long. We have to do something to find a way back."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Us being here may very well alter history itself," Aleksander added.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"For better or for worse," Aming agreed. She walked over to a chair and sat down. "I don't think I'd take it very well if I somehow met a past version of myself along the way," she adds, shivering.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"How long has this war lasted so far?" Armaneth asked.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"We're still far from the end of it," was the demured reply.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For the next few moments the three of them sat in silence, each lost in thought until Aming proposed that they should rest and figure out what to do the next day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"We'll take turns to stand guard and switch every two hours. I can take the first shift if you want."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Both nodded and made their way towards the cots. Soon both were quickly asleep while Aming kept close watch on the tunnel.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Suddenly to her great alarm she heard familiar voices coming from deep inside the tunnel, one sounding very much like her own, another like her old friend Aryl the mage!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Something is wrong! They, me, whatever shouldn't be coming this way! She quickly shook Armaneth and Aleksander awake, sending them a mental message to not speak but quickly get out of the area. Armaneth quickly shouldered the resting Marcus while Aming put out the fire, casting a quick spell to make it look like nothing was burning in the first place. She then murmered a spell to levitate the tied up Chaos Dwarf that Marcus had subdued earlier, then opened the trap door. As soon as everyone climbed out with the dwarf on the ground besides them and she closed it behind them, voices could be heard from below where they were before.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"That was too close. They can't see us. It's too dangerous!" Aming said grimly.

Finally...done...reading! :P

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Profile for Kay:

 

 

 

A bearded, dwarf-looking man. "Master" thief, but his greed often gets him up in hopeless situations, then his intelligence saves him. Though he's about the most unlucky guy in the world, he is lucky when it counts, and may save his friends from any situation.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Aming!?"

 

 

 

Everyone turned swiftly around. Aming immediately recognized the small man standing infront of them.

 

 

 

"Hi, Kay," she said with resignation in her voice.

 

 

 

"So...is this some kind of spell or are you in two places at the same time..?"

 

 

 

"It's a long story, Kay."

 

 

 

"I can wait," he said, and sat down on a crate.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sorry for the really short post, but I felt I had to introduce my character and twist him into the story at once, or he would just fade away. :P

 

 

 

Also, remember english is not my main language, so please comment my spelling mistakes. :wink:

"Please tell me what's going on, Aming," Marcus said calmly as they sat around a table upstairs in Falador's Rising Sun tavern.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Seconded," added Kay.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As Aming told the story, Marcus allowed his mind to wander while still listening to what she said. Kay appeared to hang onto every word. He wears nothing of note, and carries no weapons, thought Marcus, glancing at Kay from time to time. Wait, there is something... How did you miss that? There's that lump in his tunic, looks like a dagger's pommel. He wears light boots and fairly thin gloves. This man is a thief.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aming had finished her story by the time Marcus was done examining Kay.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"By what you've told us, Aming," said Marcus, "my great-grandfather and the group has deviated from its original course, and probably won't end up retrieving those elfstones like you said they should have. There's a problem here, isn't there?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Not entirely, Kiran. If they had indeed neglected to attempt the retrieval of those stones, that brooch and cloak you are wearing now would be in different condition. I still note those marks where your great-grandfather was allegedly slashed."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kay was silent, and only stared into his mug with a look of slight confusion.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"What should we do now?" inquired Armaneth.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aleksander spoke. "Perhaps we could aid these people without them knowing. I am not entirely sure of what we can do; maybe eliminate threats which weren't there before but could appear now?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

That's more along my line of thinking. "I guess we could," replied Marcus. "I wouldn't mind helping my great-grandfather along on his adventures. Besides, it seems like we're stuck here for the time being anyway."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"What's the plan, then?" asked Armaneth.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aming said, "Well, that attack came from a tunnel leading north-west. If nothing's changed too much, that should lead to the catacombs of the Chaos Temple north of the Goblin Village. Shall we investigate?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Maybe we should split up," suggested Aleksander. "Me, Kay and Armaneth could take the tunnels. Armaneth's fairly small, I don't require vision, and Kay would be more at home underground. Aming and Kiran can approach the temple from the foothills of Ice Mountain, to clear out any possible ambush for us."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Sounds like a plan," said Marcus, obviously agreeing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"We'll do that," said Armaneth, "but don't call me small ever again."

Armaneth, Aleksander, and Kay had made good distance. Armaneth had cast a spell that allowed his eyes to see just as well in darkness as in light. The tunnel was wider than it was tall, meaning that the 3 could walk without feeling cramped, but Aleksander and Armaneth had to crouch slightly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Suddenly Aleksander raised his hand, meaning for them to halt. Armaneth and Kay did just that, suddenly alert, training all their thought on hearing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"What is it that you hear?" Armaneth inquired as quietly as possible.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aleksander knocked an arrow and replied, "Footsteps, coming towards us. And they don't want to be heard."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kay flattened against the wall closest to him. Armaneth and Aleksander crouched as close to the ground as possible, to make themselves less visible. The foot steps came closer, then stopped. Armaneth heard a voice muttering something arcane, a voice that sounded like Aming's. Suddenly light filled his vision, and he was assailed by deafening sounds. Aleksander and Kay faired no better, all 3 screamed under the attack, then Armaneth blacked out.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Armaneth awoke to find himself bound by soft cloth in a wagon. He felt stiff, obviously in the same position for a few days, and very thirsty. His head pounded. When he tried turning his head to see better he felt so much pain that he gasped, getting the attention of his guard.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Aming, the one Kay called Armaneth is awake." the voice of a young man called out. Armaneth felt the wagon stop, and could sense someone coming toward him. He felt the searching eyes, and so he opened his own, only to find himself staring back at Aming. Only it was a younger Aming. He tried to call out her name, but when he opened his mouth she put a finger on his lips.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Rest, you are not yet well enough to speak." Armaneth could see Aleksander laying bound in the same fashion behind the Magess. Looking around, he identified his guard as Corwin, the Blade dancer Aming had spoken of. Aming called out to someone he could not see, and Corwin got up to leave, soon replaced by a lancer, that wore the same cloak and brooch Kiran did. This was the great Zonorhc, Kiran's great-grandfather.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aming left, and Armaneth could feel the wagon start moving again. Weariness took over again, and Armaneth fell into a more peaceful sleep.

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

Uh-oh, seems like we've been discovered...

Uh oh indeed! :shock: And so soon? :P

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kiran and Aming made their way out of Falador, with Aming concealing her identity the best she could under a black cloak. Upon advice from Kiran, she had cast a spell to change her appearance so that no one could identify her. Bad already that someone did recognize her, then again, maybe not so bad, with a new (or rather, old) ally at hand again. She glanced over to Kiran, her eyes trailing back down to brooch now and again, shivering in memory of the battle fought in the past.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As they approached the northern gates of the city, they were stopped by the two guards, who immediately crossed their javelins in front of the heavy doors. For a moment the dogs snarled and snapped at them, but as Aming drew closer, they seemed to calm down and began to whine, wagging their tails, as though familiar with her. She knelt down a little to give them both a pat on the head, speaking to the guards as she did.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Sirs, if it pleases you, my friend and I seek passage through these gates. We have an important journey to partake on," she said with a slight accent.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I'm sorry, m'lady, but times are dangerous and we cannot allow any of the people to come through these gates unless they are soldiers of the White Knight army," the guard said sternly. "You had better not be a spy trying to escape from here-"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Oh no, sir, not at all." Aming glanced over at the ladders leading to the parapets of the wall. "Is it all right if we go up there to see the view at least?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I suppose... Many of the civilians have gone up to watch the charges..." he said hesitantly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Thank you!" Aming motioned Kiran slightly to the ladders, not turning back.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I assume you have a plan, or we wouldn't be coming up here... It's a bit of a drop down, unless we want to shatter ourselves by jumping," Kiran commented, looking down over the low wall of the parapet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aming nodded. "We must be careful though. Remember what the guard said about the people coming up here to watch the charges?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"So what do you suggest we do?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Take the far eastern side of the wall. I'll use a wind spell to break our fall... Climbing down would take too much time."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After a few minutes of walking, they reached the far eastern side of the wall. Aming looked over to Kiran, motioning him to stand on the edge of the wall.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Jump whenever you're ready," she said.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kiran looked at her as though she were insane. The drop was at least seventy five feet or so. She had better calculate the spell timing right, or I'll be more than dead. With a deep breath, he jumped, soon to be carried by a wind spell that set him gently down on the ground. Soon Aming stood on the wall and jumped as she uttered the spell.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Before she could utter the final word, a shattering pain seemed to strike her mind. She barely managed to utter out the last word to save her from falling the last thirty feet or so, landing badly on the ground. Kiran ran to her side.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"You okay?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I... I think so..." she replied shakily. "This is bad... I think history has been changed a little."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kiran frowned. Did Armaneth, Aleksander, and Kay run into them...?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As though answering his thoughts, Aming spoke again. "This memory... I remember Armaneth and Aleksandar... And not from recent times... but from past times."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We best avoid any more contact with the past, or we could potentially damage history itself. It's already altered enough and our job now is to stop it. "So you think they've been found by your past self and my great grandfather?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They began to walk towards the cliffs of the hills just south of Ice Mountain, both silent for the remainder of the time. As they reached the incline leading up, Aming pointed in the direction of the Monestary. "That won't be here very soon. It's a part of the original history, sadly, and there's nothing that can be done now to save it unless we ultimately want to damage the fragile glass holding the sands of time."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

From the northern end of Ice Mountain, Hell's Judge, the one of the past, looked down at the two travellers, frowning to himself. One of them looks oddly familiar... Like that pestering Magess from who-knows-where Aming Heart... Same walking gait, same aura... It has to be her. But who is this she's with? And why isn't she with that Arch Magess Aryl? As he watched, Aming, with the hood of the cloak still shrouding her face, looked over to west.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"We best be careful from here on..." she murmered. An evil presence filled the air, but she could not find where exactly it was coming from. She shivered slightly as she continued to walk, feeling for some strange reason that they were being watched.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Trouble already... But it's not showing itself yet... He readied his crossbow just in case and continued to walk close behind her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Suddenly Aming stopped, raising a hand before Kiran could speak. "Something is definately not right here," she said through a telepathetic message.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Well, well, what do we have here? Two warriors traveling here at times of war? Surely you know better!" Both turned around and found the Hell's Judge standing behind them, scythe in hand. A grin dripping with blood and glowing red eyes gave some indication he had a face in the darkness of the hood.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kiran aimed his crossbow at him quickly while stepping back besides Aming. Aming made no move to reveal her identity and instead took out a pair of twin daggers that she had packed earlier. Twirling them in her hands, she looked over to the Hell's Judge, frowning. The light barely managed to reveal her eyes, now burning with a fire of hatred and battle. "Stay back, or we wil be forced to fight."

What he doesn't know could hurt him later. "What is this? Can a couple not head north to seek refuge in these times?" Marcus demanded with feigned irritation, turning slightly to obscure his brooch from view.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Judge's pose shifted slightly, as though hesitating. No, the aura is slightly different, this one's definitely older. "No matter, kind sir and lady," said the Judge with a mock bow, "I was merely suspicious, as one would of anyone travelling around these parts in these dark times. Have a safe journey." With that, he turned and disappeared into the darkness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Too close," breathed Aming, sheathing her daggers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Before Marcus could add anything, she followed up her statement with a swift backhand. He stumbled backward a few feet before regaining his balance. "What was that for?" he demanded.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"You could've come up with a better lie!" exclaimed Aming. "I AM about eighty years older than you!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Marcus grimaced a little, and shrugged.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Nevermind that. If my slightly altered memory serves me correctly, the group is due to arrive and make camp in that depression -" she pointed, "- in about five or ten minutes. I suggest we lie and wait."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Hold on a minute," Marcus interrupted. "Shouldn't we do something about your face? You're going to be asked to take off your cloak sooner or later."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I don't particularly remember whether I saw the face of the cloaked woman who travelled with the man in the hills," she replied with a slightly triumphal tone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

With a sigh of resignation, Marcus climbed and sat down in the branches of a tree overlooking the soon-to-be campsite, and unloaded his crossbow. No point risking a misfire.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aming followed him, though she sat on the roots of the oak.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Look over there, Kiran," Aming told Marcus quietly, pointing to the open, moonlit entrance to the depression. "That man on the horse riding before the wagon is Saben, the former monk of Saradomin. The woman on the other horse is Aryl. Driving the wagon is Corwin, and beside him is Lady Frost, just behind them is Kay. I was inside the wagon, caring for Armaneth and Aleksander along with Simirillion, Aryl's thief lover. Bringing up the rear, on that horse, is your great-grandfather. He has not acquired Corsin as of yet, and only bears Aeglos. You will hide your brooch now, and the cloak should do fine. He had not been struck yet at this time."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Marcus took it all in, and gazed at his great-grandfather for the first time. He said, "Don't you think it would be suspicious if my features were just a little too similar to his?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Nobody will notice, but you will not wear that brooch."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Marcus removed it as he was told. "Where is the one you called Adamos?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aming replied, "He awaits the group in the elven city I mentioned earlier."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"What now, Corwin?" the one called Saben called to the wagon, his voice echoing in the depression.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"You know the wagon can't move over difficult terrain, so I figured we should look for a depression - like this one - to camp in," replied the young man.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"The horses need some rest anyway," Zonorhc called from the back, "we may have been on the road for a bit longer than they'd like."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Marcus saw Aryl's lips move, but could not hear what she said. She bent over and patted her horse's muzzle.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"We should be spotted soon," said Aming.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Zonorhc halted his horse, and called, pointing his spear in their direction, "[garden tool], Saben! Mark those two figures by that tree - one in the black cloak at the roots and a stealthier one in the branches!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Now, Kiran," Aming said, standing up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Marcus nodded, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder as he followed her down towards the group.

Whoah,

 

 

 

It's taken me about 2-3 hours to read through it and I'm still going.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So far, I see Aming and Aleksandar are the main characters as they have

 

 

 

posted more frequently and seem to hold the story together and the other

 

 

 

characters have a good plot going.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Anyway I will finish up reading then see what to do from there.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Oh well. here is my Character.

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Name: Burnt Arven

 

 

 

(Simply reffered to as Arven or Burnt to not add to many 'A' names which I have noticed)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Age: 26

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A man approaches, long pale hair obscures his tanned face,

 

 

 

his body is covered in vicious scars and deep wounds revealing many

 

 

 

conflicts and battles. He is tall and muscular, with the build

 

 

 

of a warrior who has seen many fights.

 

 

 

His eyes are dark and his gaze, fierce and intent.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He is Burnt arven, A young man of 26 struggling

 

 

 

to earn his way through the harsh world called "runescape".

 

 

 

An outcast, abandoned as a kid he has worked hard and trained rigorously and become somewhat of a mercenary

 

 

 

taking whatever side he sees fit for his next payment of gold.

 

 

 

Doing whatever he can to gain respect (in whatever form), Valor and recognition in his name.

 

 

 

As a lone vagabond he travels and lives by his own accords.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

Okay, I will finish reading through the story so far. :)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(Update) Okay, I've read through it now.

 

 

 

Yay :D

I didn't post here to write as I'm no great writer myself, but I'd just like to congratulate you all for producing a fantastic legend. I think you should all be commended for writing so well! :wink: :) Keep up the good work! :D

We last left Vandiel a long long time ago, after being found by Sanfew in Traverly dungeon at the couldron of Thunder, preparing a potion that could drive the dark wizzards from the original stone circle below Varrock.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

`````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

'Falador has been attacked Vandiel!, All the battle druids are gathering. The dark armies are heading onto draynor, even the Heroes guild is sending some of its members!'

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Vandiel stood up from his position behind the couldron.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

'I will conveen with the Council and discuss this, let us go'

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And with that Sanfew and Vandiel ran off to the hall of the elders.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

`````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kaqemeex stood at the head of the table, addressing Vandiel

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

'Vandiel, a divine messanger has come to us from Guthix. We need to send our strongest Warrior back to the great war timeline. Hells Judge has gained power in that timeline. And Guthix forsees that all over Gliendor will be thrown into peril if he achives his goal in the past.'

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

'We of the Council and the Order have decided to send you back, you are to pack rations and some funds, then you are to go to the Alter of Guthix alone. You will find enough gold pieces to last you a fair while in your room.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Vandiel's head was spinning, this was alot to take in such a short time. He stood up to address the Council.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

'I thank you all for choosing me to partake this task, I will not let you down. I will take my leave.'

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And with that, Vandiel walked out of the council chambers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

`````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Vandiel walked over to the alter of Guthix, with is pack packed to the brim with supplys. He stepped forward, knelt down and started praying, The sky darkerned and lightning struck the stone arch ways that surround the Alter.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A large floating skull appeared with a deafening boom, It spoke in a etheral voice.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

'Vandiel, you have been choosen to be my repersentaive in the times past, do you accept is duty and honor?'

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Yes my lord Guthix"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

'As a aid in your task, I shall give you Armads and Dunthal, the legandary blades of balance. And now you must go and bring balance to the past.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And with that Vandiel stepped into the swirling green portal that had opened up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

`````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A flash of light and he could hear people talking and the sounds of horses neighing, he heard the riders run over to them to try and calm them down.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He heared yelling and foot steps appoarching, yet he still couldn't see anything, everything was white.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

`````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Finally done,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

~Chaosbringer

Okay, here I go. It's pretty long. At least for me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I'm open to any criticism :)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Arven's eyes were wide in shock.

 

 

 

In front of him was the biggest sack of gold he had ever been offered in his life.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

'We pay half now and half later.' Said Captain Val

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

'Whoa, whoever you want dead must be quite important.' Arven gasped.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lets go back a few hours. Arven was travelling across the wild after a good dayÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢s earnings; he had amassed a few full helmets, long swords and a small sack of gold.

 

 

 

The usual pkers were out and about along with ÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ãâ¦Ã¢â¬ÅpuresÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬ÃâÃ

ok everyone im back, and really got a good idea for my character, i just need to know a few things, first of all could someone please post a good description of all the characters, we must have about 20. I know the main ones pretty good, just the A's are killing me. anyway could someone also please tell me kind of a brief summary of what happens before the past is all messed up and all like what happened in the old story so i dont mess something up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

on to my character!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Age 25

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Name Smedos

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Description!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Smedos is a ex-druid student of Taverly. He was found by the druids without any parents or family. He carried a mark of Zamorack on his arm, but this was removed through painful herbal removal.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He was taught herblore by the teachers of Taverly, but was always questioning methods and trying new things that usually got him into trouble.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After turning 15, he was approached by one of the towns council members, and asked to leave.Smedos ventured into the wilderness alone, teaching himself herblore thru the study of the dangerous poisonus fungi of the wild. He had mixed potions which upon smelling them you were instantly paralyzed and an easy target for dagger to the heart.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Even after all of this training and the feeling of being all powerful, he wanted more. He was approached by a figure wearing a black cloak and carrying a scythe. The figure turned out to be Hells Judge. The Judge offered him a mediocre position in his army. Smedos accepted.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After many years in the army he had risen to a very high level, mage captains feared him, and warriors dared not cross him. He was known to place virus causing bacteria from herbs in the rooms of those he did not care for.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now Smedos holds a rank of Captain over his own division of potionmasters and a few strange archers who use poisoned arrows with great skill.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Well I've got my character now, just to find out where he should come in. :twisted:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I think this is my longest post ever on Tip.it! :oops:

They are "on hold". This actually happens often and the characters soon end be being blended with the other characters (that is to say, a person among the citizens etc.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Since there hasn't been a post in a while, here goes...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

EDIT: Oy... I confused myself lol! Had to edit a few times sorry. -.-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aming carefully made her way down the hill towards the group with Marcus, thoughts racing through her mind. Right now any new twists to this frame of time could either damage history or perhaps even glorify it. Either way, it wasn't a choice to be made. It had to remain the same for the most part. As they approached the last few feet towards the group, Saben stepped in front of them, smiling warmly, though a hint of suspicion could be seen in his eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Greetings to the both of you. What brings you here here during these ill times?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aming hesitated while Marcus answered calmly. "We're just a traveling pair seeking safety in the north. My name is Kiran."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For a moment there was an odd silence until Saben looked at Aming, who appeared to be somewhat in a daze. "And your friend?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"M-my name is Rain," was her reply, though barely above a whisper. Marcus backed her up, sensing her uneasiness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"She does not speak very often, but has a good heart," he said smiling. Something changed again...? he wondered. He should tell from her face that seemed to have almost disappeared under the shadows of her cloak.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Kiran, Rain, it is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Saben. Why don't you come with us on our journey? It's not safe to travel at this hour. We're about to set up camp for the night."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"If it pleases you, sir." Aming sighed as though tired. "It'd be good to rest our feet for a while, don't you agree, Kiran?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Marcus nodded as Saben turned around, motioning the two to follow him. In the depression, the younger Aming was attending to Aleksander and Armaneth, Corwin and Zonorhc were attending to the horses, and Lady Frost took careful watch of the fire. Kay almost shouted to the older Aming, but a warning look seemed to have shot from underneath the hood and he fell silent, grumbling to himself about nearly blowing their cover.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Everyone, this is Kiran and Rain. They're a traveling pair seeking safety. All right with you all if they come along with us?" Saben asked, glancing around.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Saben, you know our journey is just as dangerous. We shouldn't put people's lives at risk," the younger Aming admonished. "But if they do not mind encountering dark spirits and other ghastly things, I'm fine with that." She smiled at the two. "My name is Aming."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

By this time, Zonorhc and Corwin approached them, shaking hands with Marcus and nodding to the older Aming politely. Zonorhc smiled a little as he shook hands with Marcus. "You have the grip of a warrior, sir. Almost as good as mine."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Marcus looked into his great-grandfather's face, nodding. "Thank you." So this is the great Zonorhc, my great-grandfather... he thought to himself again, feeling honored to have met him face to face despite the time warp that got him here in the first place.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

More names were exchanged and for the next few moments, the group chatted lightly over the strange sights they've seen in their lives. The older Aming shied away from the fire, wanting to keep the light from falling under the hood. The younger one looked at her and asked, "Everything all right, Rain? Maybe you should remove that hood to get some air."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"It's fine, Aming, thank you. I'm a bit sensitive to most forms for light unfortunately due to a freak accident. Pardon me for not revealing my face," the older hastily explained.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"You have a fine crossbow there, Kiran. May I have a look at it?" Lady Frost asked.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Marcus handed the crossbow to Lady Frost carefully while the older Aming looked around and found Aleksander and Armaneth, still asleep and wrapped under blankets not too far away from them. She uttered a quiet gasp. "Are these two all right?" she asked.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aryl looked over to the older Aming and nodded slightly. "Aming hit them with a spell earlier, thinking they were a threat. Thankfully it wasn't a very strong one. A good bit of rest and they should be up in no time." She looked over to Marcus and motioned him to look at Aleksander and Armaneth. "Do you know them?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Marcus looked over to the older Aming, who only gave a slight shrug. I guess either answer wouldn't do any harm... he thought. "Great gods, they're our friends!" he exclaimed. "How did they ever get here?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"We were going along a tunnel and found them and Kay traveling together. It was decided we'd take care of them until they recover from the attack as it appears they didn't mean us any harm."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The older Aming knelt down besides Armaneth and placed a hand on the blanket. Armaneth stirred slightly, then opened his eyes, surprised to find the older Aming now staring down at him. He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when she mouthed, "Call me 'Rain'."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Rain... how did you get here?" he asked.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Kiran and I were traveling and the group you were with happened to spot us. How do you feel?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Armaneth cringed a little. "My head still hurts, but better for the most part."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Soon Aleksander awakened and Marcus went to his side to explain the matter. The others watched as they spoke and smiled.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Well, at least we've re-united them. Four is better than two, I'll say," Corwin said.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Yes, but Armaneth and Aleksander still need to rest for at least a few hours more before they can travel properly again," Aming added. "Maybe we should let them come along with us. I'm sure they're not a burden and they appear to be well-seasoned warriors."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The older Aming looked up at the statement and thought quickly. If anything bad happened to her and her friends of the future, it would ultimately change history. And if anything happened to her past self, it would happen to her future self and could possibly reveal who she really was. But the group needed help. The war was far from ending and with no sign of peace yet, maybe it wouldn't do much harm to help them a little bit until they could find their way back home.