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archimage_a

archimage_a

Member Since 10 Feb 2005
Offline Last Active Nov 19 2012 02:39 AM
Victory Speech "This administration promises 1000% more rambling text per post" Updated 03 Dec · 1 comments

About Me

It was a saturday. Do exciting stories every begin like that? Probably, it doesn't really matter, its just scene setting.
It was a saturday afternoon, around lunchtime, a few minutes before an eclipse. A fan set to low blew a cool wind though the air and you, the daring adventurer stood boldly outside of Varrock Bank definitely waiting for the one bank clerk to get back for his lunch break. But little did you expect the woman who had just walked out of Varrock Library, had then dropped the runes to Tele to Falador before walking over to the tea seller and buying a cup of tea and deftly hiding it under her arm. It was after all this scene setting that you finally delivered your line as she taps you on the shoulder.
"Archimage!" You yelp like it says in the script. With that the fan is turned to full and the moon blocks out the sun. To anyone who was not reading the screen play it looks like: The wind suddenly picks up and the sky gets very dark.
Suddenly everything goes wavy and a strong masculine voiceover starts
It is the Illustrious Archimage Xoex Aquana, archi for short, is a guy who frequently pretends to be a girl on the forum, but in real life is quiet comfortably a guy. Though occasionally walks like he is wearing high heels for some notably obscure reason. He/She/They/It enjoys roleplaying, obviously, it would have to to pretend to be a girl so often, but in any case it enjoys roleplaying, making long winded speeches in the hopes that no one will read them but simply agree with them on a matter of principle. This is probably how they became a moderator since, as they will repeatedly remind you in debate, they were a complete noob when they first joined.
In the distance there is a flash of light which brings you back to reality
"Yes it is I, Archimage!" A explosion rumbles though the sky above your head "I come bearing Tea and Leaflets!"
Above you the moon has exploded and so day light has been restored, feeling that the drama has becoming overwrought the fan is turned off and so the wind dies down but things get wavy again
Outside of the Runescape world there is University in Wales....Yeah, no wooting on that, far too many hills spaced far too close together but without any convenient paths between them. At this University it studies Librarianship (Wooting is highly frowned upon) and International Politics, and they just stuck a seminar on Friday!!! My day off gets ruined by a ruddy seminar!!!
Archimage appears on the side of your vision and the waves stop pulsing. The two people holding the perspex board look guiltily at the floor.
"Oi, clear off."
"Sorry, it was adding to the moment."
She looks at them with a stony look on her face face. "Course it was." She regains her over friendly look and focuses on you "Now then TEA!!!"
She produces a cup of tea from nowhere and puts it in your hand along with a sheaf of papers.
"Thanks, I-"
But there is no one there...You glance to the left. No man with perspex board. You glance to the right. No other man with perspex board. You glance behind you. No bank clerk. You glance upwards. No moon or sky of any description. It is only when you glance down and see the cup of Tea, the tea bag still floating in it, that you believe that she was really there at all. Then you look in your other hand and see the script that you are reading now... and feel afraid.


Modest Goals
Joined 2005
Moded 2007
Fallyed 2008
-
Admin 2012
Ascendency 2020

Filler, anyone who reads this(All of the stuff that follows this too) has my undying gratitude, even if you hate it.


The BlueJay Chronicles:Complete and unabridged

The BlueJay Chronicles Part I

BlueJay carefully went to look around the corner. A sudden wail told him to wait, a second later a silver sphere hurled passed. He quickly moved round and entered the house.

"HuffleSticks" it was barely a whisper as it passed his lips.

The door opened to reveal a cramped room with perhaps thirty people or so. The room was the size of a normal room and sported a sink and a teak larder. There was a stove as well but it had been smashed in and served as a fire instead. This was one of the safe houses for people who opposed the ADVERT COMPANY. Ever since Archimage Aquan's quiet rise to power there had been people fleeing the cities and towns, just so they would not be liquidated. BlueJay had been on the run ever since Fairy Nuff had been 'Liberated', he knew that he was going to be caught sooner or later. He knew because of the tracker that everyone had. Archimage never used them because it wasn't good sportsmanship, but for delivering letters. But if the hunt went on for too long BlueJay was sure that he would use it.

There was the foul smell that accompanied thirty people living in such an enclosed space. It was hard to believe that less than a month ago this had been a pizzeria. Times had changed so rapidly it was scary. In fact the whole thing was scary, no matter which way you looked at it. Archimage had crushed all opponents and even the return of Ratchet looked like a futile gesture, he had already claimed jet lag...could it perhaps be that Archimage had already got to him? BlueJay pushed the voice from his head. No! He must not give up hope. He set him self down near the fire and got out a few lumps of meat. The room was suddenly alive with excitement. Many had not seen food in some time. BlueJay carefully handed out the little food he had left. Whatever happened next it would be on an empty stomach.

It was early the next morning; when exactly didn't matter, the searchlights obliterated the sun that got through the smoke of the factories; BlueJay was pulling on his backpack, which was now completely void of food and anything but his trusty tee-shirt sporting BLUEJAY'S FOREVER. Given to him when he was very young it was his life line to the past. Moving in the night was suicide, no one moved at night. It was by pure luck he had evaded them as long as he did. The early morning rush would cover his movements, but there wasn't alot he could really do now. With no weapons, no support and very little money he didn't have a strong suite to play with. A light flared across the sky and a moment later the people poured into the streets. That was the sign that curfew was over. BlueJay looked towards the posters that encompassed every last square inch of building. He hated them, no one had the money to buy them anymore, but they were still there. A reminder of how stupid they had been. "He's just another businessman"; "It will be over before you know it." But this wasn't any businessman, this was Archimage A. The chances just seemed to leap out of nowhere.

BlueJay headed to the marketplace, it still stocked food and some goods. Mainly bread and bronze though, it had even become a slogan of sorts. He bought a dagger and a few loaves, guards roamed freely here so fights broke out over anything...you just paid what they said and then some to be on the safe side.

There was another crack in the sky. It was the sign that noon had come. This was BlueJay's sign. He swiped the guard closest to him and twirled on the spot, sending another flying. A wild scream of panic caused the crowd to bolt for their homes. BlueJay and his dagger were sent flying. He tried to stand up but people rushed all around him. He rolled towards a table hoping to stand up, only to find rations and weapons. He gripped a scimitar, it looked rune, but that was too much to hope for, he felt it. Mithril. The food was lobsters. Common before, but now they were a rare treasure. He thrust them into his pack and lunged from the table at a guard, his scimitar cutting though his chin and coming out his forehead, the back of the blade sliced through brain as he brought it down. From his left another guard yelled for help, BlueJay kicked a table towards him. There was a thud and a splintering of wood. Almost everyone had left, if he didn't run soon he would be at their mercy, at which he was almost already.

They closed tightly around him, it was an over zealous mage that saved him. Sending a water bolt straight for him, but BlueJay sliced through it with the scimitar. The water struck two guards to the side and he took his advantage. Cart wheeling to the left he grabbed the gravel that lay around him, unwrapping his shirt as he did. A moment later as he righted outside the ring he flung the stuff with a swish and flick of the shirt. It hailed down on them and as some of them lunged to get at him others fell about themselves, their eyes cut and arms bleeding.



That night no one would take BlueJay. He may have killed a fair dozen guards but at what cost? Bronze was now completely off the market and bread supplies were cut in half. It was only with the offer of Lobsters that he got into a house. It wasn't so much a house as a quarter room, but it was just him and this guy so it was less cramped than normal.

"So BlueJay, quite a stunt you pulled out there. Must have been some of my best agents you killed."

"Err your agents, oh!@#@" BlueJay lunged, whoever this guy was he worked for Archimage, well he wasn't gonna be taken without a fight. He unsheathed his scimitar and whirled it towards the neck. The figure merely moved his hand and the weapon bent cleanly to the side, smashing into the wall and then crumperling into nothingness. Who the hell was this guy?

Well it didn't matter he was gonna kill him no matter what, he had nothing to lose after all. He backfliped a Cresent Moon Kick, he went somehow short, as though the room had expanded suddenly. Indeed as he looked back towards the figure he noticed he was in what looked like an endless room, with a chequered floor.

"Who the @#$# are you?" He didn't wait for a response. He pulled a cord on his backpack and three runes slid into his hand. "INFERNO!!" The runes coiled into a snake a fire and shot towards the figure. It couldn't miss. The fire connected, no one could survive that spell. BlueJay had made it that way. 1 Cosmic, 1 Lava and 1 Blood. It made an incredible combo. But something was wrong, the fire hadn't gone out, in fact it was growing larger and larger, as if it was being fed by something. It exploded outwards and BlueJay thrust his arms up to take the force of the blow. It didn't come. He looked up. The wall of fire suddenly crashed down upon him. But it didn't burn. The tiles around him melted into slag but he stayed completely protected. Someone up there liked him.

"You were right about that" The figure seemed to be referring to nothing in particular and to the casual observer it would have seemed ramberlings, but BlueJay suddenly felt an icy chill as his blood seemed to turn to ice. It wasn't possible, mind reading just wasn't possible.

He pulled another cord and cast. The shot landed square in front if him....Right were he aimed. The Cosmic and Chaos rune bent the laws of Nature, the third rune. BlueJay began to sprit towards the character. Each of his steps only just out done by the magic that created the path he was on. He jumped into the air and tried a Flying Lariat, arm around the neck and spun on. Snapping their neck and kicking anyone hiding behind them. BlueJay felt the connection, but then...There wasn't a connection, he was sailing through the person as if they were not there. He was sent sprawling onto the floor. The slag moulding onto his hands. "ARGGGGGG" He screamed as he felt the stuff solidifying. His hands were encased, useless.

The figure looked on in delight. There was pure hatred in BlueJay. So strong in fact that a bolt of red flashed from his hands and cracked the slag and sailed towards the figure. It seemed to take the blast well... But then blue rings of electricity began to spark from him. BlueJay looked around to see that he was back in the quarter room. There was the sound of electricity coursing all around him. BlueJay fell towards the wall, his weigh and speed plunging him through. He was on the roads, and any second the guards would be upon him.

But before anything could happen a brilliant white light shone through the hole he had created. Followed by a shockwave and then black.

It was perhaps an hour later BlueJay awoke. A hand was clamped over his mouth and he heard a voice "Don't say anything or I will break your neck." BlueJay didn't even nod a reply, he just froze. "Good. Your little stunt has destroyed most of the street. If I wasn't there you would have been caught and believe me Liberation isn't the worst they can do. That thing was created by Archimage himself. I have known alot of young fighters, and old mages go in there, you are the first to leave it alive. Tales say it absorbs a person’s skill after they die. Explains why it is so powerful. A forerunner, he was gonna come back. Take the thing, and make a million copies. Guards that never die, never sleep, never rebel. Or so the tale goes anyway. You have set him back quite a way, he sacrificed one if his best commanders to get it working."

BlueJay tried to move his. The hand was clamped so tightly he could feel the teeth burying themselves in the gums. "Oh right you wanna see me I suppose." The voice was that of a young man, a noble boy, probably never felt a woman's touch, but many slave boys. The body didn't match, neither did the speech. As though someone had taken this guy and put a prince inside it. "Prince Gyold, I apologise for my appearance. Like I said, there are worse things than Liberation. I was unfortunate enough to be captured and transformed. Something went wrong I suppose and I escaped, I don't know my strength and..." It all seemed too much for the man, he simply broke down crying. BlueJay wasn't sure what to do, here was a man who could crush him like a paper cup, but all the same needed someone. He laid his hand on his shoulder. It seemed to trigger a change in the man. Not an instant change, the sort of change that a man gets when he realises that he can have whatever he wants. All too late did BlueJay realise what this meant for him.

He escaped the next morning. Pain still running rife through his body. How could he have been so foolish, he was a prince, and had the muscle to back it up...He was gonna make you do anything...At least now I can believe there are something’s worse than Liberation. He walked towards the city gates, Varrock no longer held his fortune. But even as he approached the gates he knew he was wrong. They were closed, guards across them and on the battlements. He was screwed...well more so than he was. The dark humour made him wince slightly, whatever was going to happen need to happen here, because there was no way of getting out.



___________________________

The BlueJay Chronicles Part II

An Archimage sponsored hunt/production.

Hunger reared up inside BlueJay, sleeping little and fighting Archimage's creations took what little energy he had left and ripped it to shreds. The whole of the street was packed with merchants but they all sold the same stale bread. That was all that got though now, the other cargo vanished on the way. "Freedom Fighters" the papers told, "Too busy eating your food to fight for you." Few believed it but it still there, and to everyone it seemed plausible. Adventurers ate more than anyone else. He tried to put his mind off his stomach but there little around to do. Everyone was milling about looking for the least stale bread, or they were working. Everyone was in offices now. Metal and ore had been stopped because of problems at the mines, wood only trickled though because of the raiders. It was all just believable enough to make them doubt that it was Archimage's fault. But for BlueJay that didn't happen. He was gonna be liquidated, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but as long as Archimage was in control....The sword of Damocles hung just there.

BlueJay knew the quest for less stale bread was hopeless. All of it came from the same convoy. It was only the hopelessness of the situation and the lack of any other task or job they could busy themselves with that made them carry on. For him there was another task, find another home, he could probably find one if he still had those lobsters, but they had been burnt to cinders by the fireball. Archimage was playing an elaborate game of cat and mouse, and he was on the losing end. Something inside him told him that Archimage predicted his every move, he had know that we would survive the fight so had destroyed his food...why though? If he was caught...He stopped in mid sentence. There was always going to be another option open to him, but taking it was almost as preferable as handing himself in. No he needed to find a way out of the city. The sewers? Would it be possible to make his escape though them? He looked for a manhole, but everyone was covered by peoples feet, and pulling on up would only attract attention. He needed a diversion. Something that would clear the people and hold back the guards.

Rock shards broke though the stalls and rained on the people. Screams ran rampant as women and men both ran for cover. Another building exploded outwards. BlueJay had set the runes with a time delay. From below the covering he could head the screams as another building erupted into fire and plaster. There was a crack from above, it was the sign that everyone should lay down where they were, or face death. The screaming stopped instantly, a single voice rang out. "This is the work of Freedom Fighters. They are here in our very city." As if on que someone screamed and from what the guards shouted seemed to have thrown something at the speaker. "Enough" The voice drowned out the guards and the man, there was a sound that was like what had happened to his Scimitar the night before. Then a bloodcurdling scream. BlueJay knew that the man was dead before the voice confirmed it. "That man was a Freedom Fighter. He would rather kill me than he would help you." Another cry rang out. This was the cry of a child though.

"You killed my father!"

"Your father was a traitor to his people. Come with me, or remain here. I am giving you a choice." Archimage used that saying alot...@#$% if he hadn't gone down this manhole he could have fought him. He knew that the boy did actually have a choice. For what Archimage said was the truth. It always was. Or at least it was always how he saw the truth. "Come with me or stay here, the choice is yours." He repeated it for effect and BlueJay heard the boy's slow but steady footsteps towards Archimage. "I look after the weak, I will always be here to protect you from those who want to give you 'freedom' how many of you were actually free before me? You were all slaves to your money. As soon as I have crushed this rebellion there will be more food, more goods and no money for all. Everything will be free!" He paused for effect again, a light cheer came up from the guards, then a second cheer, and the final cheer was from everyone. "I declare the rest of this day a Freedom Day. Return to your homes, and tomorrow this street will be back to normal. If your house was one of these unfortunate ones then come with me and I will put you up at the castle. Never say that I am not generous."

As BlueJay climbed the ladder down he thought of the Prince, and of the thing he had attacked before. Those people weren't going to be coming back...Not as they left anyway. It was how he recruited people. Out of 'Gratitude' they would join him to fight the Freedom Fighters. The smell hit him, full on as he carried on down. His eyes were watering but he carried on regardless. This was safer than the streets, or indeed anywhere on the surface. At least this place's threats were not there when his feet touched the semi-solid ground. He felt them being sucked under but he had no choice but to carry on.

Walking maybe for an hour he finally came to an alcove. It was damp and was filled with who knows what, but a water bolt or two clear that, and a wind strike made it dry enough to sit upon. In all the time he was here, he had not seen a single rat. Ok he wasn't gonna get eaten in the night, but he wanted something to eat now....As though his prayers were answered a backpack floated passed in the guttering. He grabbed it with his foot and reached down to get it. It was tightly wrapped so nothing could get in, and for a few minutes he couldn't either. Practically ripping the top off sent cakes flying everywhere. BlueJay recoiled in horror as the cakes sank beneath the sewage that was around him. Inside the bag there was a note, affixed to the bottom.

Dear BlueJay Number Ninety Four

This is your survival pack. It will need to get you through the next few weeks so it would probably be best not to open the rest of it like you did this part. As you know I can track your every move, but what you haven't quite accepted is that I can see the rest of your future laid out ahead of you, coiling into the distance as some great dragon. Your future involves me, alot of me. Again it would be a good thing if you controlled your self better. Then again you would not have defeated my creation if you had. I had to give you that after session though...to teach you that instinct is not always right. I can see you will be returning there in the future so I would recommend sleeping first. Again for the final time be more careful in the future. Your past and present are symbols of that.

Oh and there are no rats, or indeed any living things below the city. There are, like you, a few Non-Persons. Refuses to be collected, nothing more. You can ally yourself with them if you wish, but be aware they will betray you in the end.

Sincerely,

Archimage Underscore A

P.S. Aim to the right.

BlueJay looked up trying to digest the letter. Nausea overcame him and remembering the advice he turned to the right. He then sank back into this little place. Wondering exactly why he should turn to the right rather than the left. Hunger battled Nausea until it forced him to pick up the pack and find what remained. There was another seam sewn into the bag, he carefully unpicked it and to his surprise found a swordfish. Ravenously he ate it. Once his stomach had stop its revolt against him he pulled back the rest of the second seam. There were two more swordfish, along with a Scimitar. It was Adamant and had some sort of golden pattern running in a spiral on both sides of the blade. Along the bottom there was another, this time shorter letter.

Dear BlueJayFan Number Ninety Four

I hope that you enjoyed your first swordfish. The scimitar is a personal gift. The pattern is my own design. It will increase your cunning. Those sparks of inspiration you suddenly get when fighting are drawn to it. Below this letter is the final part of the pack. There are three potatoes, each with a separate assortment of fillings. If I were you then I would wait until you need them, and then cook them. There is also a shield. More information on that will be with it.

Wishing you the best of luck,

Archimage Underscore A.



He tested the sword on the air. It had perfect grip and even better hang time. He felt more powerful with this weapon in his hand. A little voice inside his head told him to get rid of it. Get rid of the whole lot. It sounded like his father. "Everything" he used to say "Everything you need to do on your own. Trust no one and you will never be let down." It had become the party’s slogan and his father was quietly rubbed out. He wasn't sure who he hated more, those @#$@#$# for doing it. Or Archimage, he reversed their move but he looked at himself. He was a mess. Archimage had destroyed him. The only way he could get back to where he was...was Archimage's death. He looked back at the sword. Archimage was a good sport. If he said something it was at least partly true. He looked back over the letter. It didn't say it was good or bad, it just said it was a personal gift...Did that mean he would react badly if he got rid of it...No he needed a weapon and Archimage was giving him a chance. He unpicked the final seam on the pack. As promised there were three potatoes, each had three packs with them. One containing cheese, one containing tuna and corn and the last containing mushrooms and onion. Under them was a shield. It too was Adamant, but had another strange symbol on. Sort of an arrow head half enclosed in a circle.

Dear BlueJayFan Number Ninety Four

The shield is another of my particular inventions. Like the Scimitar it is enhanced with a symbol. This symbol will draw the powers of someone you kill into yourself. As the young prince told you, that guard absorbed great power before you arrived, that was how it was able to stand up to you for so long. In the end though your rage triumphed. Hold the shield in your right hand, your weaker hand, and you will absorb all the energy should you kill your foes in the future. Hold it with both hands, or just your left, or stronger hand, and you will gain nothing. If you carry it in your pack then you will gain the strength of your foe, but you will be no be able to defend yourself. There is one final ability to go with the shield. It has an energy function. If, in the future, you are faced with something like that fireball, you can switch the shield to absorb it. Since it is touching you it will also absorb part of your skill while you do it. If the power exceeds the amount you put in, then you will get all the power you put in and the power of the attack back. If it is less than the energy you put in though...Then the shield will not protect you and you will be drained for no reason.

Oh and Birthday Wishes,

Archimage Underscore A.

What? He wouldn't forget his own birthday...surely...He tried to remember a few weeks ago. When he was free...He had seen something, something in Fairy Nuff's planner. Birthday...How had he forgotten his own Birthday. Even his boss, who had sacrificed his life so that he might escape, had remembered his Birthday. Well this was a pretty crummy birthday anyway. He was in a sewer...Although he had gained food, shelter and weapons. So it couldn't be all bad...Surely? It didn't matter too much anyway. Now that Nausea and Hunger had left him alone his mind turned to the other major part of him...Sleep. The stone slab was perfectly even and it was that that made them so uncomfortable. There was nothing else to lie on and his shoes were covered in gunk. Looked like he would be in for a restless night. Using the pack as a pillow he settled in. It would be early the next afternoon that he would awaken, as he turned the light through a crack would catch him. The sounds from just along the tunnel would give him the sudden awareness he needed to wake up. But that would be tomorrow, another day entirely.







_________________________

The BlueJay Chronicles Part III

An Archimage sponsored hunt/production

BlueJay jumped to his feet. The voices were getting closer. He readied himself to defend from these mystery voices. The sword and shield would come in useful alot sooner than he had thought and the voice inside his head had become silent. There was no doubting Archimage's intentions, it was clear that he would have to defend himself from these attackers. What the hell do I do? BlueJay tried to calm himself but at the last moment his nerves exploded in a triumph of death. He sprinted to the corner, a Flying Lariat connecting with the first attacker. His neck snapped in two as his body fell uselessly down. BlueJay's momentum carried him round to the other man, his feet impacted on his chest and he was sent flying back to the wall.

BlueJay looked at the two bodies. The first was dressed in Iron armour. In fact if he had waited any longer there would have almost been no contest the now dead man would have won. The second person was still breathing, dressed in civilian clothes which were ripped across most parts, it was clear that he was the first man's prisoner. BlueJay rifled through their backs and pockets. Neither had any money or food on them. BlueJay suspected that the prisoner had left his pack wherever he was living, and the guard would have a base above ground, or below quite possibly. The armour was somehow welded onto the bones of the guard, there was no way to take it from him, without deboning him, and although BlueJay had become more skilled that was one skill he didn't really want. The weapons were a Mithril Long sword with a Symboled handle, and a small Steel Square, that had been painted red and yellow. The prisoner had nothing. There were two letters in the guards back.

Dear Smoking Eagle Number Forty Four

As a testament of your services I present you with this sword, it has been marked by Archimage with the power of illusion, while it appears to be a mere Mithril Sword it possess the power of the Dragon.

Too many long years of continued services.

Sincerely,

Commander Niffle

The second letter read somewhat differently, BlueJay immediately recognised Archimage's handwriting

Dear Kam42705

Following your open defence of characters unbecoming of the future I have been forced to exile you. This I do for your own safety and your weapons are...

The rest of the message has been torn off. BlueJay looked very carefully at the second person. They were in a red and orange set of normal clothes. They appeared to be coming round and once they noticed they were free they would surely join him. Surely. BlueJay grabbed his scimitar and shield, and thrust a blow into the dead guard. The effect was immediate. Energy seemed to pass through his shield into him. He felt as though he had become a master of Swordsmanship and of Tracking. He noticed that a pendant that he had missed hung around Kam's neck. Carefully looking at it he remembered seeing it around...The Prince's neck...He shuddered slightly, how could he forget. That must mean that Kam had escaped from Archimage's...He didn't even know what to call it.

About half an hour later Kam came round. "What... Where, where am I?" He seemed out of focus and somewhat lost but soon his eyes refocused on BlueJay who was watching him carefully from a distance. He looked down at the guard. For good measure he tried to kick it to see if he was dead. But he lost his footing. Falling flat on his face. It was only then that he noticed that he was missing his clothes. "I know the guard didn't do this to me. What sort of a person are you!?"

"The kind of person that saved the life of someone they didn't know, and had ever right to be careful around them."

"I suppose I deserve that much, can I please have my clothes back. The last time this happened is a time I would rather forget."

"Oh you too, huh? Well I suppose since we are stuck in the same boat." BlueJay through his clothes back. Kam caught them and hastily put them on. BlueJay looked away while he did so, although a new part of him was curious, there was definitely more in that guard's head than swordsmanship and tracking. "Well I suppose now would be a good time for us to talk about our state of supplies...Do you have any?"

"Yeah but not much, that...Fornicator...took most of it."

"What about weapons or anything like that?"

"I destroyed them myself. I don't trust anything that Archimage sent. Why would he help us?"

"Probably because it would be any fun to attack two staving defenceless people."

"Whatever his reasons I think it would be safer if we stuck together from now on. I was jumped by that guard from behind...bad times...But if there are two of us I think that maybe we could protect each other..."

"Ok. Well I have a bit of food. If we collect your stuff and come back here we can plan our next move."

The two walked in silence for sometime afterward. Kam's alcove was alot older and more used than BlueJay's, and it hadn't been cleaned...Or it had been used by that guard....BlueJay chased the thought from his mind. He was caught between being sickened and some what delighted. Repressing both feelings he looked to Kam, he seemed to be steely determined not to talk about it, or anything else for that matter. BlueJay understood why he has jumped at the opportunity to leave this place for good.

The tunnels gave echoes from far away from time to time. Mostly things like pots clanging but sometimes there were yelps of surprise as well, as well as a host of other more explicit cries for help. They both tried to block them out as best they could, but BlueJay was torn even more between the two sides of him. The guard was a stronger person, and somewhat different from BlueJay. From the letters he knew why Archimage had said to be more careful, if he had just let the guard be dead without trying to boost his own power then these thoughts would not be there. But they were, and now he had to deal with them before they overwhelmed him. He stressed his mind to its limits, reciting long strings of spells, just to take his mind of it.

As they arrive back at the alcove BlueJay instant noticed that something was up. The heightened tracking skills he had gained told him everything he needed to know. A band of three, wearing light or no armour, had come through, seeing the dead guard they looked around. They found his pack, and apparently knowing exactly what to expect had taken it. They had then set off to the tunnel to the east. They both stood for a moment before BlueJay spoke. "Ok let’s have something to eat from your pile and then go after them." Kam sighed gently and unfurled the wrap of blankets that held the food safe from the elements. It was bread and cheese. Both were in date though so they didn't taste off. As BlueJay sat eating he noticed that his eyes had drifted round to Kam. Catching himself he rammed the rest of the sandwich in his mouth and stood up. Kam, who was completely oblivious to what BlueJay had been thinking, began to draw his sword. "No wait. It was just the wind. But we better get moving anyway." Kam nodded and looked around just in case, BlueJay caught himself again as his gazed dropped to just above Kam's knee.

They had been walking for perhaps twenty minutes when they Kam heard the voices. BlueJay was trying to deal with the new feelings when Kam had pulled him back. Not only were the voices present, there were a number of traps between them and their prize. The tracking skills he had just acquired again showed their use. Pulling a single cord he disarmed the traps for a few minutes, it would be enough to get though them. Kam was slightly less believing in the whole state of events, taking each trap as though it was armed. BlueJay noticed more traps as Kam foolishly walked into their arc of fire. Fortunately they were disarmed as well. Pointing them out would not have helped things, or perhaps if he was wounded....NO BlueJay forced the images from his mind, this wasn't right at all. He wasn't supposed to think things like that regardless of who it was... Though he did occasionally about a certain group of women he knew...That was the realisation he needed. BlueJay realised that he had always had these feelings, they were just further back in his mind, and so far back that he didn't notice them. He swore aloud as he realised their meaning. The voices ahead stopped and Kam thrust his elbow into BlueJay's side.

They both lay against the ground as footsteps moved slowly closer to them. With a flash of instinct BlueJay raised his shield above his head and pushed Kam to the side. Arrows bounced off the ground they had just been on. Another flash of instinct and he brought his scimitar up to cut a cord. A moment late the whole of the tunnel was alive with armed traps. There was a deathly silence as all five of them froze rigid.

"Ok. Pull The Cord Back Towards You And We Will Talk." The voice was slow and decisive. Clearly this person was being serious. BlueJay pulled the cord back.

"I am going to have to hold it here. If you shoot me or my companion I will let it go and take my chances." The moment the cord was pulled tight Kam got up, and along with the other three set about temporally disarming the traps. BlueJay talking Kam though some of the more tricky ones, and telling all of them about the ones they missed. It would more than an hour and after the first twenty minutes BlueJay's fingers began to ache. By the end the pain had become incredible.

One of the three was moving ever closer to Kam. A glint of steel was all BlueJay needed. "KAM!!" He looked round just in time to see the attacker. He deftly leapt onto him. The other two moved to attack but BlueJay let the cord go. What few traps remained stopped them from helping. Kam and his attacker had crushed most of the traps near them and what others were around were disarmed. The dagger had gone flying as Kam had landed his first strike. But the attacker wasn't one to be taken lightly, extending his leg with full force into Kam's stomach. As he was doubled up the attacked grappled with his head, together with bringing his knee into his face repeatedly. Blood spurted rapidly from Kam's mouth and nose. BlueJay had leapt over the traps in his way, apparently another gift from double killing the guard earlier. First thoughts told him to strike with the scimitar, but his judgement instead brought the shield crashing down on his head. The attacker crashed to the left like a sack of potatoes.

BlueJay felt warm tears running down his face as he looked at Kam's face. His nose was hanging limply but most of the other damage was aesthetic. All of his teeth had somehow stayed intact. BlueJay felt some strange relief that went beyond simply being his friend. Turning to the other two attackers he shook his head. They looked back with stony faces. Their mood seemed to darken considerable. The other still lay sprawled across the floor. Putting the shield in Kam's pack, he guided his arm down, the sword entered the heart of the attacker and instantly Kam felt more alive than he had before. His nose seemed to have healed its self and the blood peeled off as though it had been there for months. Beyond that his face was back to its original look. BlueJay felt his heart explode out of his chest and with a sudden inexplicable force drove his face into Kam's. It lasted perhaps a second but BlueJay felt something deep coming out. He withdrew quickly. Kam was stunned, first looking into the distance, the way someone would as if they had been hit with a shovel, and then is eyebrow furrowed. "I had no idea....I need to...I need to think about this."

The two attackers wooed them, not in the good way. In the way that meant that they should be ashamed of what just happened. As they both were, although part of BlueJay yelled Victory. But the effect on Kam was instantaneous as the effect had been on BlueJay. He felt as though hand to hand he could take anyone in the room, on top of that he could feel some deep knowledge of runes, something far beyond what already knew. It scared him so incredibly that he couldn't think straight. His personality overrode the new information he had been given though. Taking BlueJay by the arm, who was literally foaming at the mouth, he grabbed the body and began dragging it back towards their alcove.

The BlueJay Chronicles IV
An Archimage event

Kam kept a distance between them, walking just ahead of BlueJay, who was dragging the body. Thoughts coursed through both their minds as they slowly thought throw the events that had just transpired. For BlueJay it was almost as earth shattering as first feeling these abnormal feelings back in the alcove. The voice tat said this was good thing, raged against his better judgement. The eerie silence that had fallen over the two made it impossible to start talking.

Kam looked straight ahead only, the feelings were not new to him, but they were oddly different, as if they had come back with friends. And yet he wasn’t sure. He didn’t know BlueJay, but some deep vein of lusting he hadn’t quite got rid of seemed to crack the walls of commonsense and decency.

Kam slowed slightly, until BlueJay had caught up a bit. They were walking almost level before BlueJay noticed. He had been staring at the ground, rather than Kam’s well rounded posterior as he usually did when they were walking. A sign that something inside him, perhaps that long deserted rule of honour, had reasserted itself. BlueJay raised a look across at him. Kam was staring straight ahead, but out of the corner of his eye he could see him doing it. He closed his eyes for a moment and sighed gently. BlueJay’s gaze dropped to the ground that he was so accustomed with.

When they arrived back at the alcove, a letter was flying quite flat. Under it was a cooking pot, and logs.

Dear Happy Couple

I trust that BlueJay’s Rashness has landed you with very little food. So knowing your predicament I have sent along these tools. Human flesh, or so I am told, is very much like eating any other raw meat. Perhaps it is more chewy and maybe more bland but once you have acquired a taste for it you will forever be going back for more. However raw flesh isn’t for everyone, so I would recommend you cook it, roasting usually burns the outside and leaves the inside raw, so boiling is usually preferred. Either way it becomes more palette able, and will no doubt keep you alive until my next care package arrives. Still I would put some thought to your sleeping arrangements, two long silences in the same day just doesn’t make good reading…So I might throw something in. Well hope you are both well.

Best Wishes,
Archimage Underscore A.

“@!#%” The emotions boiled over in BlueJay. Archimage was toying with them, like a cat with a mauled rabbit. He just went round and round the animal, drawing death out to the last moment, giving it the fullest range of suffering before finally pouncing for the final time. As for the Human meat…Well they weren’t quite out of food yet. Kam had begun reading the letter again.
“I guess we are just gonna have to top and tail it.”
BlueJay nodded as though he didn’t really care, his anger driving all thoughts, of any nature, from his mind. But now he felt them clawing their way back in. Another wound on the rabbit, he dryly thought. “I am going to have a look around.” The words rolled out his mouth in a some what vicious manner.

“Ok” Kam said it with the tone of voice that didn’t care either, but as BlueJay disappeared around the corner he whispered lightly, “Be careful.”
Ever since that one time, on his seventeenth birthday, he had felt drawn to no one in particular. Going from guy to girl alike, not really loving any of them, right up the last. Suddenly he felt a tear rolling down his cheek as he remembered that night. That night that he was used and discarded. Now what seemed to be BlueJay’s kiss had rekindled it inside him. But as had happened way back when, he was torn between love, and lust.
What was this?

BlueJay, being a man of adventure, took every left, and then every right. It meant he could find his way back, without the threat of Kam coming after him. He needed to be alone for a while. He rounded bend after bend, his legs screaming for let up, but he only pushed them harder. Jogging at first, now he was sprinting every step. Some insane feeling inside told him it would make everything somehow better. Even if he could overcome his pain, his legs could not. They collapsed beneath him, filling his face with filth. He couldn’t drown the humiliation out, it hung in the air, like an invisible audience. His eyes opened, a moulding leaf stuck to his forehead. Slowly and focusedly his hand moved towards it. Then like a snake his ripped it from him, driving his fingers though it and then flinging it into the semi-darkness of the sewer.

As he made to stand up again his legs buckled again. He felt something beneath him, with all his effort he rolled to one side. There, right were he had been, was a letter. “@$#@ You Archimage!!!” He ripped the letter to shreds before him. “I am not playing this SickOFansic any more! Kill me or let me go!” He waited on his back for a sign, something to show him that he was free, but it did not come. He looked down at the torn letter…Perhaps it was a sign from Archimage…But it was blank? He turned the shreds over in his hands, half heartedly laughing at his own stupid-ness…but there was still nothing.

Walking on, he was looking for anything that would be in the terms of a quick death, or a road to freedom, but neither emerged from the fading light, which would settle to twilight on its own accord.
“NO ON MY ACCORD” The voice it BlueJay like a spade or a hammer from the darkness. He felt himself lifted into the abyss that stretched out behind him. As he looked up he could see a spectre or something forming, but it was more solid. It was Archimage! In the flesh, but his voice was louder than normal, as though he was shouting into his ear. “You are NOTHING to me, BlueJay; Nothing but a plaything, so you better get used to the idea!”
He was not about to be told what to do by some voice, he was going to make his stand right here, he rose to his feet and yelled at the emptiness “Then you will have to kill me, because I am-ARGGGG!”
BlueJay felt his legs forcing their way upwards and inwards. In reality they stayed quite still, but inside the bones were grinding themselves into each other. He fell to the ground as his kneecap was finally cracked, as the last part of his Femur snapped from what remained of the rest of the bone. His Tibia began to shatter in a downward pattern. As though someone held parts of his lower leg, and forced them outwards. “When you get it thorough you Thick head that I am your Master, and that I Alone control your Destiny, then This will Stop.” BlueJay wept bitter tears, crying for forgiveness between screams, whatever it was that he needed to make it stop. But it did not go. The pain did not numb as it would if this was happening to him for real. Instead the skin curled tighter and tighter, till it began to wrench itself free from the bone, but still with severed nerves and bleeding skin he was not able to stop it. It split deep cannons down his legs. His eyes betrayed what his other sense told him as the marks appeared from nowhere. Everything said otherwise. He reached for the scimitar. If he could render it from him then he could perhaps escape. “Your Repentance was short lived….” The pain began to fade to the numbness that reality would have produced. Even so the blood began to rush from their tracks, as veins and arteries alike let go what something had been holding back. BlueJay just stared at this bleeding monstrosity that lay before him, still attached to his thigh. It was mangled inside. He could feel and see the bone dust trying to escape though the blood flow. Carefully he pushed down on it, the moment he touched it his leg collapsed like jelly. But that didn’t concern him, for the moment he touched it his arm went rigid, but he could feel it bending back behind his back, trying to escape but snapping all the same. His body and mind screamed escape as the feeling crushed each and every limb he had, then it advanced up his back, each disk grinding against the next until they were but powder. As they went the ribs curved inwards, piercing his organs and threading themselves though the mangled remains, bending back and forth on themselves until all that was left was a mass of soup that he could feel inside him. Finally, at the base of his neck the snapping ceased. “Now then” Archimage’s usually calm voice had returned. “Do you understand why you ware my plaything? No. Why did I chase you and not someone else? Why I didn’t chose Kam instead?”
“#@$# You!”
“Spare me. I am saying what you were thinking. But BlueJay, you are nothing special. You, like everyone else are like pets to me. When you do something wrong you are punished. When you do something right you are rewarded. You realised you could not escape the city, so I gave you the scimitar. But before then you killed many of my other pets. You needed to be taught a lesson on how to behave: How asserting your will over those around you is a bad thing if you don’t own them. Your whole life has been like it. I didn’t rise overnight because I am some master of opportunity. I made it happen. Like everything in your world; In Kam’s world; Even in the Guard’s world and the attackers, that you didn’t even get to know. Their lives exist because I will it. Now do you accept your destiny?” BlueJay spat at him. The spit ball merely slammed back into BlueJay’s throat, throwing a spray of blood into the air. “Yes, sometimes I have to test my own powers of foreseeing. I thought perhaps I could limit my vulgar-ness. But I can see that that can’t happen now.” Archimage waited a moment or two, BlueJay felt the fear racking through him, piercing even his glacial expression. “As you know its not only the physical I can change, but the mental as well. I can make you my slave, I can make you beg for torture, yet feel every pin [puncture] like a thousands suns bursting across your skin. But I do not. Why is simple.” He adopted the tone of earlier. “Because you Will Suffer at My Hand In Your Own Mind, Before I Strip You Of That As Well. Before you are My Slave, Before I make You Beg for Torture. But for now…You ARE going to go back the alcove, And You ARE Going to @#$@ Kam.”
The ‘Are’ s were so forceful BlueJay was nearly swayed on them alone. But through the blood and the lack of lungs to say anything “While I am in my right mind, there is no way that I will do that to someone I love” It was more of a shock to him than it was to Archimage, but he sill held out for the words to have some kind of magical effect on him, or to be calling Archimage’s Bluff.
“Perhaps I didn’t make myself CLEAR Enough.” With that BlueJay felt his joints rise up, screaming in constant agony as the bone dust could not support it. And the blood billowed from the tracks, and yet he stood. Archimage crossed he room, and gripping him by the hair he ripped him back, so he was almost standing at 90 degrees. His back exploded in protest, but there was nothing he could do about it. Archimage poised himself at BlueJay’s face, so they were looking into each other’s eyes. Archimage saw a rabbit caught in his paws, and BlueJay saw the Cat standing triumphant, as though this was it, the end of it all. “I have tried the ‘Nice’ Tactic. Now I Will Have My Way.” Archimage pulled back. BlueJay’s back sprung back up, the pain numbed only slightly. But his joints replaced the screams of protest, first at the sudden weight that Archimage had been holding up by grabbing BlueJay’s hair. Secondly because they were moving forwards, not the usual step forwards. But large, knees to stomach and leg out stretched, arcs that landed about half a step shorter than normal. BlueJay was helpless, at the mercy of his own body, the body that demanded him to stop. If this was anyway a fair world he would have passed out by now. But this wasn’t. This was Archimage’s world.

The final corner before the alcove came into full view BlueJay stopped. “BlueJay you have one week. For lust or love. It’s your choice.” He looked round for the slightest moment to see Archimage fading to nothing.
“ARGGGG!!” The bones erupted from nothingness into something-ness. As he swayed for a moment as the blood loss finally registered in his body, just before he fell he heard something.
“BlueJay? I am…”

Kam, who had tears streaming down his face, came rushing round the corner. BlueJay had collapsed, Blood seemed to be all around him but there was no wound. He tried to wipe away the tears but more appeared in their place. He gave up and thrust his arms around his midsection, and with some effort raised him on his shoulder. Carrying him back to the alcove he noticed that his face was white, drained of all the blood in him. Kam began to panic. He was dead, he knew it. He grabbed BlueJay’s pack. Surely there was something it. His hands shook so much that things slid and feel from every loose pocket and when he finally found the rune pouch he needed they slipped though his fingers. He clawed through what had fallen to the bottom of the pack, slowing his breathing every passing moment. He lifted his arms triumphant with a whole handful of runes. Throwing them to the floor and yelling the Lunar Spell. BlueJay sucked in a breath of air, as Kam fell to the floor beside the alcove. Breathing, but very injured.



The BlueJay Chronicles Part V, Chapter II

An Archimage Supposed Diversion

Dust ladiened air flitted in and out the shafts of light that graced the room. It smelt of cheap beer and even cheaper girls. That was how Powerent liked it. Despite his best efforts he had not been able to board up the windows enough and still he was awoken by the mid afternoon sun as it made its lazy transit across the sky. “My head….”

“Another late night was it? No don’t tell me I was awake! I am surprised the headboard survived it!”

“Oh *!$# off Whiskers!”

“Well if you are going to be like that then…”

“…Sorry. You got my stuff?”

“Do I ever mean anything more than those ditzy blondes you drag though here?”

“Owwww! Too many long words. I need a pick me up.”

Powerent stumbled creatively out of bed. It was something he was quite proud of. No two stumbles were the same. Then again no two Powerents were the same. He grasped about the side until he felt the cool glass of last nights foray into the city. The blood tricked down his throat, throwing spasms of pleasure from him, the last drops threatening to congeal at the bottom of it all.

“#@$^ing thing” He hurled the glass at the boarded window. It erupted across the room like a glass hitting a boarded up window. Powerent chuckled at his own wit until he saw Whiskers preparing to pounce on him. “Hey calm down boy. I need some time to wake up before I can ‘sleep’ again”

“Your no fun any more you know that!” With that he slammed the door. The shocks spread around the room as Powerent felt his hangover fade. He didn’t drink but she obviously did. The last night felt like a blur as he tried to remember parts of it but his inner Pyer cleared it, filtering the blood with amazing speed. He groped for the glass again, only to then remember he had thrown it across the room.

The beer dripped like raindrops down the mirror. Powerent felt positively jacked afterwards, the blood flushed his system. Youth and Vitality were something that he had not had for himself for a few years now. It was nice to get them from time to time. The stale air felt charged around him, he gulped a long breath of it, now where was Whiskers?

“Whiskers…” It was an almost effeminate call to him, the pitch, the tone even the meaning seemed so pure. So innocent. His actions were anything but, laying back upon the bed, watching the door for any signs. “Whiskers, are you coming?” There was a scuffling outside as Whiskers fought against himself, he was angry with him, and rightly so…He had been a jerk. He would make it up to him. “Whiskers, let me wear the leash.” The door was virtually ripped from its hinges, but he stood in the doorway. He held himself back with the door frame. “Take me when you want me.” Powerent dropped himself back on the bed, now he was at his mercy.

They had been together forever. Even since Powerent was turning tricks in bars, looking for his next victim. Whiskers had walked in and Powerent had looked up. Whiskers was looking for a good time, and Powerent was willing to give it to him, for a price of course. But that had changed, everything about Powerent had changed. Not for the better perhaps, but they had changed. Powerent was submissive every time, right up to the last moment. He would give the final thrust. A scream of pleasure would always follow, and then Powerent would clamp down his teeth. With Whiskers it was different. He didn’t know why but somehow it was. He didn’t need to the blood to enjoy it, only to enhance it. And he gave that willingly.

Somehow he had drifted away to the bar again one night. Somehow he had trapped another girl in his vice like grip. His teeth tearing through her veins, her arteries, nothing was enough. He gorged till she was dry, and still there was nothing like the last rush before him. Somehow it was not the same. But he couldn’t live without the death. That still gave him a rush. That was still as good as the last. He hung on the edge. Between monogamy and pleasure seeking, not wanted to live in either. Whiskers had found out of course. One man had let him recover his strength without the blood of others. When he took it he was different, less energetic. He had tried to stay clean but he couldn’t do it, it was against his soul.

Now though. His blood boiled with this fresh infusion. Like an exotic spice it livened him up, like he was a bland stew before. He felt Whiskers pushing deep, rearing the leash up. Like some sort of overdose he felt the two bloods mixing, spitting out a cocktail of emotions, of pleasure and of feelings. They raged around his body, every nerve, every fibre set alight in this blaze of glory. Euphoria was strangely missing, something else in its place. Something that did not stop, not like euphoria, it didn’t have a threshold it just grew. Each surge building on the last, not ebbing and rising. At last he felt he could rival Whiskers.

“What did you do to yourself?”

Whiskers was half awake, lying beside him. They were both were spent completely, neither could go on for another moment. Instead they collapse in a heap. Powerent felt his eardrums beating against the side of his head. This would take some getting used to.

Something was off here though. The twittering of the owl that ruined so many moments, which kept him awake when he was alone. It was absent. But that wasn’t all. There was nothing outside, as though some great hand had came down and ripped the land of life. Even the fading twilight seemed dimmer. Powerent looked though the crack between the boards, there was nothing. The trees had shed their leaves. They were hanging bare. Bare as a mid-winters day. The ground was a muddy brown. Every blade of grass was missing. Every warren filled in. Powerent felt the glass, it was warm, like every night of late. It just didn’t make sense. This was the end of spring. Everything should…Everything WAS in full blossom just yesterday as he dragged the girl back from the town. Whiskers joined him. Both just stood there, watching as the landscape merely stood still. Not a whistle in the trees, not a bird in the sky and not a mammal on the ground.

The moon drooped though the night sky, a crescent, but it was dull. Whiskers motioned to the door. The ground was dry, not cracked, as if something had sucked the water from it. Powerent moved out to the road. They lived on the road from Falador to Rimmington, and there were no houses nearby. Hidden by the trees and by the obscurity of the location they had always felt safe there, now they just felt alone. “This is too #@$#ing freaky.”

“Yeah, but what can we do? Hide under the sheets?”

“Ok point taken. Which way?”

“Falador. If anyone knows what’s going on they will be there.”

“Ok” The path was usually just a worn track though the grassy lands. A keen tracker could see that but your average traveller was none the wiser. But now it was just the same as all the other ground around them. Having only a vague sense of direction they headed to the north. A sign post came into view, but it was toppled and burnt. Whatever was going on Falador would be under attack. “Look we better head to Draynor. I don’t fancy sitting in a big target like Falador.”

“It’s just the wind.” Whiskers sounded less sure than usual. But Powerent wasn’t really in the mood to have an argument. Even he read the horror books.

The moon seemed to grow lighter as they travelled north. It filled them with a small hope that whatever was out there was getting weaker against the might of Falador. Good would prevail Powerent thought, but his humour did not instil him with the courage it usually did. A light shot up in the distance. Powerent pointed it out. It looked almost like a shooting star, but it began to fall back down to earth. It grew a reddish hue as it plummeted through the atmosphere till it was almost upon them. “@#$^” He grabbed Whiskers and lunged to the right. The glowing ball of light ploughed down upon them, guided by something unknown. Powerent felt his hands moving in flight. It was his Pyer side. It protected him from the light. A dark wall went up and the two, light and dark, disappeared together. Whiskers looked to the horizon and saw a band of men, mainly farmers racing towards them. Their arms were strung with every holy item they could find. Their chests bristled with lucky charms and their weapons spat dark energies from them. It was the Rimmington Militia.

In years past they protected the town from invaders from all over. From the sea hoards and the Vampire of Draynor to the Knights of Falador and the magic of Melzar. Though the years they had grown as people around the town joined them. Even Powerent and Whiskers had become honorary members after they had helped them survive the droughts that ravaged the lands from time to time. They were an ancient order, and these people they were facing were the grunts.

Powerent threw his hands up into the air. Whiskers took a slight more reserved posture waiting for them to come into range. Their advance slowed but they looked no less lethal.

“Who goes there?”

“Whiskers and Powerent. Villagers from the North.”

“What business do you have in Rimmington?”

“We seek knowledge. Why is everything dying?”

“The elders have no time for you. I shall tell you what is going on. A man, a great man, Archimage A….”

“Isn’t he that writer?” The Militia raised their weapons slightly. Whiskers gave Powerent a look that could melt lead “Sorry, please carry on”

“Archimage A used to be a writer. Now he has conquered Varrock and Lumbridge. His forces spread across Draynor and Edgeville and he stands on breaking point with Falador. It is an all out invasion and we stand as the only force capable of defeating him.”

“What about the forces from beyond the boarder? From the West, Camelot must be able to send something to fight him?”

“My patience grows thin. If you know so much then I would suggest you ask them to help you. Oh but of course the West has abandoned us in our hour of need. Archimage invades the East as we speak.”

Whiskers sensed that they were not going to get any further with these men. “Very well…I shall return to my home and await my fate.” He began to walk away. Powerent looked torn between begging the men for protection and retreating with Whiskers. “Powerent get here Now.” He hung his head and followed him. Whiskers had always protected him before.

“Are you two alone?”

“Yes” Powerent was perhaps a bit too quick because the men clearly looked doubtful of it as his head spun round. Whiskers dug his elbow into him, but the guard didn’t seem to mind as much as the others.

“Perhaps we can use you. You know how to use a sword Whiskers?”

Powerent remained silent and Whiskers nodded slowly. This was a battle of wills and either one could bend the other over backwards. It would come down to how desperate the situation really was.

“Ok you two come with me, the rest of you...Carry on around the area.”

Powerent contained his excitement after a smile at Whiskers had met with a sharp look. Powerent could feel that his life rested with Whiskers, and all the time he had been a jerk began to come back to haunt him.

“So, Powerent. You are a Vampire, are you not?”

“No.” Whiskers cut him off before Powerent could say anything. “He is a Pyer.”

“A Pyer eh? @#$#ing Half breed.”

Powerent felt the anger inside him swelling. There was a very good reason that he didn’t like this person, again before he could respond Whiskers talked over him. “Yes his is a useless @#$@^#%. I only keep him around because he is good in the sack.”

That drew a smile from the guy. “Oh right. I wouldn’t have guessed you were into that. I would have thought you would have liked....a bit of a challenge.” Powerent kept his head hung because if he looked up he would probably kill him with just the pure hatred he felt towards him. It wasn’t only that but Whiskers, his soul mate, his one true love, was laughing at him like he was nothing.

“Oh so you are offering are you?”

“Depends on if you can get rid of that.”

“Surely I can find a post to tether him to.” They both laughed as Powerent felt a growing urge to kill both of them. Clearly they didn’t know that a Pyer was more than capable of killing a Human, even someone like Whiskers. They were degrading him and flirting at the same time. It made him feel sick.

“I don’t suppose you can wield a sword?”

“No….Sir.” Powerent gritted his teeth as he said the last word.

“Good, you know you place. I like that in a Half-Breed. The only think I like in a Half-Breed.” They both broke into laughter again.

“Are we both going, or are you just going to see the elders alone?”

“Why would the elders want to see you? Maybe something so pitiful would offend them” That was Whiskers. The $@#$. There was no way he was going to take much more of this. But the town came into sight before he had to.

“There she is the last fortress of freedom this side of water.” He went off to get another guard. Apparently he was going to take Whisker’s suggestion…Both of them.

“What the #$^# do you think you are doing! I have half a mind to kill you right now!”

“Calm down. Rimmington is a fortress for Humans. If I had defended you then we would both be no closer to finding out what is going on, and both of us would be out there fighting for our lives against Archimage and who knows what else. I am sorry but you are a half-breed and here…I have to treat you like one.”

The guard came back over, a joyful but sick smile on his face. “I am afraid I am going to have to ask you to wear this.” There was about as much sorrow in his voice as a flood to a house built on the sands. It was a chain. Not the fun type, it was clearly rune and it had both arm and leg bracers. He was going to be completely vulnerable to whatever these people wanted to do to him. “Whiskers my man, the elders will see you in about half an hour. Perhaps I can interest you in something in my house? Coffee maybe?”

“How kind of you, I though I would have to stay here with this thing.” Powerent fumbled with the bracers, he knew he was lying. But something in his voice told him that maybe he believed it a little more than he let on. The two disappeared into one of the more grand house. Another guard came over.

“You animal. You don’t deserve clothes. Get them off and get in that mud.”

“What mud you @#$@er!”

“Know you place savage.” He grabbed a rock and threw it at Powerent. Powerent moved to stand up but the bracer held him fast. The guard moved closer. His steel capped boots colliding with Powerent’s soft underbelly. “When I @#$%ing say something you #@$@ing do it! Understand!”

Powerent nodded as the clamps came slightly loose so he could remove his clothes. They were obviously enchanted somehow. The guard knelt down, taking off his pack and looked for some runes. Powerent watched as he removed his clothes, shame had disappeared over the years of working the bars of Falador and Varrock. He set his clothes out. Casting fire strike the clothes were burnt to ashes. A moment later and water blasts rained down around Powerent. More than just the one guard were casting them. Women and Children, this was some form of entertainment to them Powerent thought…These Sick people!

“Now do you know your place? Half Breed! Half Breed! Half Breed!” The crowd joined in and through the barrage of water, which was in no way aimed just at the ground around him, he could see the house whiskers had entered, the Kitchen light was off. This was really turning out to be a great night…

The BlueJay Chronicles Part VI

An Archimage A Broadcast

“You ok?”

His eyelids hurt as he tried to open them. At first he wasn’t sure that he had opened them at all, it was pitch-black all around them. Only Whiskers eyes, a piercing blue, showed any sigh of light. It was a trick that Powerent had never been able to master, maybe because his own eyes were hazel, and maybe because he wasn’t human. But there were a lot of things about Whiskers he didn’t really know. Where he was born? Or indeed his exact age, somewhere in his thirties was what he had said on that first night they met, seemed a bit strange to put his complete faith in someone like that. “Just dandy…What time is it?”

“About three…Sorry for leaving you last night, we only have one chance at finding out what is going on and this lot clearly aren’t the types to be messed with. Anyway I brought you some balm, and I got some scraps. It’s not much but they were watching me pretty much constantly.” Whiskers laid his hand on Powerent cheek, the warm penetrated the skin and he noticed how cold he actually was. “Yeah there isn’t much I can do about the weather, or about that harness. But last night will have been the worst night. They can’t keep up their interest like that.”

“Easy for you to say…” Powerent said resignedly, “I suppose you did your bit for the cause.” Whiskers looked away to the ground beside Powerent. “Did you find anything out, or was it strictly a pleasure visit?”

“Yeah. Yeah I found some stuff out. Everything this side of Catherby is gone. This is the last fortress of freedom…”

“Some freedom”

“Yeah, I know. But it’s even worse outside of here. Archimage has reduced Draynor to rubble and Port Sarim is geared to invading Karajama. Falador and Varrock have been isolated entirely. The only thing going in is food, and the only thing coming out is soldiers. These aren’t just soldiers, these are something else. They don’t sleep, eat, and some accounts say they destroy everything they touch. To be honest we aren’t that safe here. These people can deal with anything natural, but this isn’t. They are talking about launching themselves on the sea. Sailing to Crandor and fortifying it to high heavens. I don’t know what to do…If we go with them then we will survive, but WE will never be together, at least not as a couple. If they take you at all, you will end up as some sort toy for them. If we don’t though…Well by the sounds of it Archimage is gonna turn us into soldiers…Or imprison us.”

“I just want to @#$@ing kill this lot.”

“That isn’t going to help anything. Archimage will just see us as even better soldiers.”

“Fine. We do the only thing we can do…We go on the run. You get this harness off and we stand a good as any chance.”

“I can’t. Our only chance would be if that guard released you.” Whisker’s eyes looked watery. Whether it was to do with last night, or to their predicament now…Powerent didn’t know.

“Ok…When are they leaving? Maybe I can make a break for it then?” Whiskers turned away completely.

“This morning. It’s why I came so early…” A deathly silence lay across them both. “Powerent?” Whiskers seemed almost distant. “Powerent…I’m sorry.” He turned and walked back to the shacks. Powerent lay there. His harness not even letting him see him leave.

He didn’t go back to sleep that night. This time tomorrow he might, nay, would be dead. They were not going to take him to their paradise. Whiskers had offered it as a hope, but he knew that Whiskers would kill him rather than let that happen to him. The Sun rose up the horizon. A shiny blue, spilling across the hills and ditches that were Rimmington’s mines… Wait that wasn’t right. The sun was orange. Oh @#$@ Powerent’s eyes changed their focus and the hoards hidden in the fields appeared. Without thinking his mouth opened and our rolled “ATTACK!!!!!!”

“FOOL!” a voice rang out from inside his own head. Something invisible struck him across the chest. If the harness hadn’t been there he was sure he would be dead. Instead he was driven maybe ten feet down into the ground. Quite fitting he thought. The harness exploded with some brilliant light that illuminated a ghost image that was the size of a city hovering over head of the troops. It must have been some sort of recoil spell, but it didn’t seem to affect it beyond the moment of illumination. With the harness gone Powerent seized upon his instinct. Energy erupted from him and cascaded around the village. It wasn’t more than a pretty light show but is drained him of the last of his energy. It had the designed effect though, for just a few seconds the area outside was bathed in light. The militia caught the tail end and as Powerent disappeared into unconsciousness a hail of arrows flew above him.

The battle could not go well. An entire division of the same hybrids that BlueJay had fought, but they were stronger faster and as they killed they became more powerful. Whiskers had charged towards Powerent, but seeing a hole, he knew what had happened. The despair overcame him. It perforated the suicidal mania that the rest of the town had. A thick cloud engulfed them all. Within seconds of this the army opened fire. Energy beams cut into the cloud but faded to nothing like the strength they had been. Sure in the knowledge that their attacks had destroyed the might of the Militia the army advanced. But as they entered the unnatural fog, the Militia sprung their trap. The despair evaporated, replaced by vengeance. The weapons all shone with a strange blood like red, leaving a trail behind them. The casualties were still high as the tide slowly turned. Each solider took perhaps five of the Militia to take it down. Whiskers didn’t do much in the way of fighting to begin with, instead he silently prayed for Powerent, but felt rage and hatred rising inside him all the time. His piercing Blue Eyes focusing them into an acid ray of destruction that they had no defence against. It struck two of them full on and splashed across the three others.

Archimage stood high above in the clouds. Knowing that this battle would be lost, but the next would not. Another division was already on its way. They would have hours to recover. Something that scrying had revealed them not to have.

Powerent felt the warm rays against his skin as the sun rose above the edge of the pit. Everything that had happened seemed so far away for those few seconds. Painfully it all came flooding back to him as the fiery corpse of the guard soared over the pit. He felt a mild annoyance that he hadn’t done it himself. He giggled almost hysterically as blood trickled out of his mouth. His sense of humour had finally recovered. “Whiskers! You there!”

“Powerent!!” There was a scuffling and man in some sort of red cloak sailed over the pit, a moment later Whiskers was looking down from the same direct. “POWERENT!!! Don’t EVER do that again!!”

A smile broke across Powerent’s lips. “Now we are both sorry, care to help me out of here?” Whiskers stood their flabbergasted but blinked once and put his hand down to meet Powerents. They looked back across the battle field. Little circles of death had appeared, one cloaked man at the centre of each. Women and Children were there as well. Fighting and dying along side the men and Elders of the town. A solemn tear rolled down Powerent’s cheek. Even though these people were the scum of the earth there was something inside him that respected their determination. He had had the chance to recover a little bit, but he could not fight. Not that he was needed. The last of the army was on its last legs, as Elder after Elder slammed bolt after bolt into it. Even at this last moment it was dealing death and destruction to all those around it. Flailing its arms, reflecting the odd bolt back at the caster and breaking the bones of everyone that got in range, nevertheless it finally gave into death.

The survivors were only the very best and the very late. Only three women, a single child nine warriors and five out of ten of the Elders, Powerent knew that if this town was attacked again that was it, and yet strange images blighted him. Images of the past, of the moment the light had hit the ghost in the sky. They blurred into something but he couldn’t see what, he just knew that death was coming. He grabbed Whiskers by the arm and headed north. Whatever answers lay ahead for them, they would be behind the walls of Falador. Fraught with danger as it was Powerent knew that was the only future he could seek his vengeance. He still knew a few tricks to get in and out of there. Surely he could find a way in.

“Where are we going?”

“Home. If its still there I am going to need something to drink”

The BlueJay Chronicles Part VII

An Archimage A Investor’s Dream

Powerent hung back a little, watching the slow, steady gyration of Whisker’s hips. His short sharp breaths, in time to the rising and falling handles he had used so many times. It wasn’t that he was struggling to keep up, or was in some other way tired, it was because he was scared. It was at least the early afternoon, but the sun…The blue sun, just sat on the horizon. The rest was black as night, the blue barely made an effect on it. His own shadow, and that of Whiskers, skewed ahead of them. But only he could see them. But they were pretty much all he could see. The landscape, usually a lively green, was a brown. Where the grassy knolls full of rabbits once were, ugly mounds existed. There wasn’t even an imp. Either the dark or the lack of people would have been enough to unnerve him. But right now? He snorted as he realised he wasn’t as worried as he would have thought. Whiskers head snapped round and his hand had the sword extended in his direction. “For @#$@ SAKES!”

Powerent didn’t dare try to hold the gaze. He was not the person to cross, but he wasn’t about to alienate his only means of survival, and by all means his only friend. “Sorry…”

It was pathetic, reeking of the need for love and sympathy, but he didn’t seem to care. Powerent heard the steady foot beats as Whiskers moved away from him. For perhaps the first time he thought that Whiskers might be scared as well. Was he really that heartless to not notice?

The steady crunch of leaves set Whiskers off again. Powerent had heard it a long time before him but had been so deeply entrenched in self pity he had not thought anything of it. He hadn’t even noticed when Whiskers had started to slow down and look around, only when Whiskers hips had completely stop did he notice that something was wrong. “Powerent. Do you hear that?” The voice was far below the level that the most sensitive human could pick up. Powerent responded with silence. If there was something out there, it would be able to hear him say ‘yes’. “Ok”

Very carefully Powerent withdrew his dagger. It was only steel, but it had been the only weapon to actually be driven into him, in a fight. There had been cuts and grazes but this had actually seen his ribs from the inside. The other guy was in a more than sorry state when he finished. Having bitten through his artery, he drew it out a bit longer than perhaps he should of, feeding just enough blood back through the arteries to the brain to keep him alive. When death had finally come for him, he was barely recognisable…as a human.

The rustle of leaves was coming from their immediate right. But now that he listened properly he could also hear the clank of chains. Then the sound of a body falling. The sound of a skull shattering. Then the clanking resumed, now with the heavier rustle of leaves. Whiskers stood still, listening, if he would work out where they were exactly then perhaps he could get the drop on them.

Powerent’s howl cut through the concentration on Whisker’s face life a hot knife through butter. Every muscle was prepared to go into battle but there was a thud…then another howl that was cut short by a death scream. “Powerent?”

Powerent let out the howl as he sprung from the bank. He was just off target, just a little behind where he needed to be. The dagger was in his hand and a wicked strategy formed in his mind in those seconds that he flew through the air. Again his timing was off with the howl but fate was in his favour, rather than his spinal cord his dagger struck just right of it. It latched behind the shoulder blade, slicing though skin and muscle as it went. He flicked his hand gently, and immediately turned the simple stabbing weapon ninety degrees and into a lever. His momentum and the weight of the figures armour countered each other to swing Powerent into the path of his victim. The shoulder blade tore though the skin as it tried, at first, to wrench itself free and then uncleanly snapped in two. The jagged edges and shards exploded outwards, ripping a hole the size of a shield. Powerent mouth closed around the jugular, the canines ripping two small holes into the bulging blood vessels. His lower jaw resting on his windpipe…just encase he wasn’t finished off.

It was less than satisfying, the wound had severed more than a few important points and now he was almost dry. But a kill was a kill and his base instinct took over. His head shot back and he howled his victory to the stars. The final reserves of the figure were deeper than that though, as he brought his weapon up it flashed into Powerent’s memory.

Whiskers saw the limp figures. They lay sprawled across the dry earth like so much waste. There were five in total. There was a gentle sobbing also. It was coming from the bank to the left. “Powerent?”

The sobbing stopped for a moment “I don’t W...W...want you to seeeee me like this” The sobbing exploded in the form of a wail and then was constant.

Whiskers looked about in despair. He had seen Powerent cry before, it wasn’t anything big, but if he wanted to be left alone…Three of the bodies surrounded each other, as if they had been trying to kill each other. It was then he saw the ankle braces. They were trying to escape…The forth was laying some distance away, and didn’t look quite as contorted as the others. He tried to roll the body over, putting his hand carefully beneath its head…It was then he realised that the face was missing. He recoiled in horror and looked at the final body. That was Powerent’s work alright. There was a massive hole in its back, two teeth marks…but more so than that…There was a savage set of slice marks covering its chest. Whatever they had done Powerent was not about to let them rest in peace. He moved back to the first three. Their braces seemed to be melting and he realised that this was his only chance to find out what had happened. Ripping the bracer off was not an option but as he felt it, it was cold. He carefully put his hand into it, pretty sure what it was but not quite believing. He felt for a moment and then clutched three phials. One was almost empty, one was full and one was half full but about five times the size of the other two. Instantly he knew what these concoctions were. Demons balm would have been the first potion, burns the nerve fibres out. Death was ‘almost’ instant. The second was Latticestain. That was a slow death, constricting the lungs with each breath until the victim suffocated. Faster breathing would hasten the demise but its cure was fairly easy to make, if you knew what you were doing. The last was Terrordine. Basically it was terror in a bottle. It caused its victim to release fear hormones into their bloodstream and basically go along with whatever the nearest person said. Each was designed to control a person. The @$#!$#@ must have been torturing these people! But where the @#$@ would he get that sort of…

Archimage.

It was the classic ending to a terrible relationship: ‘In another place, another time. Maybe we could have been happy together’

…Archimage had seemed an ‘ok’ sort of guy. He knew how to do things, things that made personality, love and….well everything meaningless. He would know what you liked, how you liked it and knew when you wanted to stop, just the sort of person that you dream about but don’t expect to actually meet. Then there was the other side of him, the public side to him. He would never let you down and always have time for you. There was no way that he could have a dark side. In fact everyone in Varrock thought he was some sort of saint. That what made Whiskers feel so safe with him, safe to pass on his knowledge. He should have noticed something was going on, but at the time…anyone would have been interested. But he was blinded by good intentions by the time he had found Archimage’s secret lab, secret library and everything else. Even then, at the point when it was glaringly obvious that something was going on he didn’t think anything of it. Then he met Powerent. Something of a looker, something inside him broke and he could see Archimage for who he was. He went back to confront him but all he found was a note. The first of many that Archimage would leave but the gist of it was that if they couldn’t trust each other not to see other people then they couldn’t be together. At the time he was heartbroken, contemplating suicide…Powerent was the only thing that stopped him. He couldn’t believe he had followed him, but he was glad he did, and now here they were…

Powerent eventually stopped sobbing. “I couldn’t stop him…I’m sorry.”

“I know, I know. It’s ok. Powers…we need to carry on…Falador might be the only place we can get the answers we need now.” Powers had been his nickname for longer than he could remember, and consequently he had forgotten why that was...Although a lot of things had been suggested, and some of them had not been sexual, nothing was quite what he thought it ought to be.

“Ok….This was Archimage wasn’t it.”

Whiskers looked into the opposite horizon. “Yes.” He looked at the floor, then at Powerent and then to the north. He began walking. “Powers…What made you attack? It’s just not like you.”

“I guess it was that woman’s head been cracked open….”

“She didn’t look like a woman.” He said it before he had a chance to actually think but Powerent chilled him.

“You didn’t hear her beg for mercy…”

The BlueJay Chronicles Part VIII, Chapter III

An Archimage A Advanced Alliteration Advert

BlueJay watched the water’s drips slowly down from the ceiling. Then how they exploded as they hit the foggy mirror like surface of waste, joining their brethren on their journey to the sea, where they would mix with the salt water and been consumed by the fish. Those fish would be in turn consumed by larger fish and them by larger fish again. Some would die of old age, some lucky few would be harpooned and die instantly…the others? They would die a slow painful death of suffocation as human nets raked the seabed clean. Death and destruction that lead back thousands of years, back to the first humans. Was it right to kill the fish when it was just as easy to gather food on the land from plants? Was it simply for the taste that humans brought the death and destruction to the underwater kingdom? BlueJay felt like a fish. Swimming inside an ever tightening net, how long would it be before Archimage closed it and sucked his life from it? Would it be something special or would it be just another life that Archimage ruined? Kam shifted slightly on BlueJay’s chest. BlueJay raised his head from the corner it was resting in. Kam was lying lengthways across the alcove, his head resting above BlueJay’s breast.

After BlueJay regained consciousness he has immediately seen Kam sprawled across the floor. His face was a pale white and waxy to the touch. He recognised all the signs of mass exhaustion, and from the fact that he could walk he guessed that there had been some healing involved. He tried to lift him up but felt his body protesting at this exertion, carrying him only a few paces before collapsing, Kam’s heavy body thundered down on top of him. He crawled out from beneath him, Kam’s head resting on his foot as he stood up. Bracing himself, Bluejay half-dragged half-threw Kam the final few metres. Resting at the foot of the alcove he pulled Kam up.

Then the thoughts returned, why he was hear and not splayed open somewhere in the dark depths of this underground labyrinth. What was he going to do…Kam was completely drained, he was almost drained, food was what they needed and…@#$# Archimage!!! The other body lay forlorn. BlueJay watched it for perhaps a minute before he could conquer his disgust at the whole event. He would need clean water, so he would have to conjure some first. Feeling around his back he found that the pockets had been ripped open and their contents lay at the bottom of it all. A few water runes and a mind rune would be sufficient. A moment later the cauldron was filled and BlueJay felt faint. Even more energy was exerted. He put his hand to his head and felt for the ledge. In its place he found Kam’s thigh. He recoiled instantly, overbalancing and falling next to the pot. The sharp crack of his skull hitting the floor reverberated around the room. Inside his head he could feel the sound even more intensely. Swaying from side to side, using the pot for some balance he collected the logs and placed them accordingly. His tinderbox remained undamaged so he lit it up with some easy. Now for the final part, the part he wished to the heavens he would not need to do. He stripped the body, rigor had set in and he had to rip the clothes off. In one of pockets there were stale biscuits, BlueJay wolfed them down, but just felt dry afterwards. The body had turned a deep white and red mix. There were very few parts that were the usual pink. He decapitated the body, there was very little meat on the head, and besides that…he wasn’t THAT hunger…yet.

The neck reminded him somewhat of a rib eye stake, but somehow he couldn’t keep the comparison for long. The vomit was rising rapidly and he couldn’t afford to spend that much energy. He sliced cleanly though the thigh joint on the left leg. Another wave of nausea erupted over him. He tried to cut cleanly though the other joint, but he didn’t have the energy to do it. Instead the scimitar caught on the bone. BlueJay felt himself succumb to exhaustion. There was only one thing he could think of, and that was food. His scimitar ripped through the stomach as if it wasn’t there. The bile and juices bled out in a yellow and brown mix. Along with them the stench of the bowels as they spit open as well would have overcome anyone. But he was possessed by the need of food. His free hand shot out, wading through the sludge and there it was! He firmly tugged at the power house of muscle, wrenching it free in a moment. As though it were some sort of apple, his teeth bit through the deep flesh. The congealed blood gave an apple like sound as they split open. He felt the energy flush through him, and the blood stain his face. He took another bite, then another and another, until there was nothing. The madness abated as his stomach began to process the heart. He became wide eyed as his sane self realized what he had done. He couldn’t deal with it. It wasn’t possible that he would do something like that. It just simply wasn’t…but he had. The blood was still surrounding his chin. Was this what Archimage meant? Would he eventually lose all his decentness just to survive in this disgusting world?

So there it was. Everything but the torso and head were in the pot. Bubbling away, turning the water into a dark red soup. But BlueJay didn’t see it slowly change colour. All he saw was the end product. He waited until the fire had consumed all the logs. Sitting, with Kam upon him, waiting for him to wake up…But he hadn’t. His face was growing paler by the second, although the waxy-ness had disappeared. He tried to stand up, but noticed that absent-mindedly he had been stroking Kam’s hair. He watched his had very carefully as he stood up, thinking that perhaps it would try to throttle him if he did something…Was he really being that irrational? He shook his head and carefully stood up, making sure that Kam was still breathing and that he didn’t drop Kam’s head onto the hard ledge. The soup had become a reddish brown stew, the bones had ruptured in the heat and their marrow dispersed through the mix. He used the shield as a bowl, although it could not carry a lot, it meant he didn’t burn himself. He carried it across the room, the steam carried on rising, creating there moisture he had been watching for some hours before. He propped Kam up with his knee and carefully fed him. The moment it touched his lips, the redness came back to his face. It was far too quickly that would normally be expected, but nothing seemed to make sense now so he just accepted it.

Almost an hour later Kam eventually woke up. BlueJay had actually found he quite liked the mix. It didn’t taste much like anything he had tried before…which was odd because everything is supposed to taste like chicken. But the shield clattered to the floor the moment Kam began to speak. “BlueJay?”

“Kam! Kam I’m here, do you need anything?”

There was a moment when all there was, was BlueJay’s quick steps echoing across the sewers surface.

“No, I think I am ok…” He tried to sit up but sunk back quickly “Ow, my head, I don’t suppose you have any Snape Grass?” A grin spread across BlueJay’s face.

“Sorry we are fresh out.” Kam smiled weakly and rubbed his eyes.

“How long I been out?”

“I don’t know. I was unconscious when I found you. Since then? It’s been maybe ten hours, but I don’t really know.”

“Ok. God my head is pounding.” He sniffed the air unintentionally, then again this time just for the smell. “What are you cooking? Did you find something?”

“Errr you could say that…It’s that attacker. Sorry there was nothing else and you looked like you really needed food.” He decided to leave the bit about eating his heart out, just in case he really ruined the moment.

“Yeah I suppose I did. It’s really odd because I feel full of energy and yet lost in a sea of unknowns…What about you, did you have any?”

“Yeah, I needed some as well. I think that if you hadn’t been such a good spell caster we would both be stuffed” They both laughed uneasily, they both felt that they couldn’t admit they actually liked being cannibals. “There isn’t any other food, so until you get better at least we are going to have to survive on the stew, is that ok with you?”

“Just until we get something else, I think I need some more time to recover my power. Don’t worry, I am not gonna die on you.” They gave another uneasy laugh. BlueJay suddenly remembered all the other problems and just wanted to get away from there, where as Kam couldn’t think beyond the next sentence. The deadly silence would have fallen on them, if not for the drips that splashed onto the floor. Kam hung on the edge of sleep for a few minutes, then left, leaving BlueJay alone again.

The BlueJay Chronicles Part IX

Archimage A, Designing A Better Dictatorship

Time slips slowly passed, like a stream of molten iron. It could flow down and make a sword, to strike down ones opponent. But, just as equally it would flow into a shield to stop that happening. Time doesn’t support one side over another, its neutral. Occasionally though, when the blacksmith hammers the cooling iron into a shape, there is a flurry of sparks thrown up. The sparks explode like a flurry of tiny particles, each one raining down across our lives and each is spectacular in its own way. They are not clear or defined, they just are; no one designs them; no one wrought their existence; they are made by nothing and everything. They plunge into the tiles that cover the rough earth floor, lying in the grooves and pits that they were not meant for, shaped unknowingly. Always, time breaks the barriers that are put in its way.

Kam felt the cool hard press of steel on skin. His body was in instant alert, waiting for the voice that would determine his attack. BlueJay’s torso lay beneath his head. There was no voice. He ventured a glance. His eye carefully swept the room, anything out of place. But no, and the stabbing continued. His hand moved upwards, it was pressing into his neck. His hand fell into dead air as he brought it down so that it might break his attackers arm. The dead air was quickly filled with BlueJay’s groin as his hand continued to break the air. Kam had sprung up as soon as the hand hit flesh, ready to defend himself and BlueJay should he need to. Only too late did he realise his folly. BlueJay gasped as the spike of pain ran through him. “$#@$” was all he whispered before collapsing sideways, a bonded scroll falling from his waist as he went. The bond was two arrow heads, faced downwards so their points met. They were barbed, meaning their twin prongs were made further deadly by the addition of spiralled points. One of those points showed its deadly winnings as a solemn globule of blood curved down the body of it. Kam felt for his neck. A smear of blood showed across his hand as he brought it away. “Are you going to @#$@ING help me or not” Apart from the one word he had barely whispered it.

“Oh…sorry, are you alright or do you need any help?”

“An explanation would be nice”

“I…well I though that there was this attacker and I was trying to defend us and….” He trailed off as BlueJay’s stare caught his eyes. “There’s a note.” He said weakly.

BlueJay breathed deeply a few times and then heaved himself back to a seated upright position. “Dear God that hurt.” He clenched his teeth and gripped the side of the ledge, “I’ll be alright, but you owe me ok?” Kam nodded, which wasn’t easy as his head rested on his chest. “Ok let’s see what this thing has to say.”

Dear Kam and BlueJay

Please accept this bond as a token of my admiration. You have both shown great resiliency, as I knew you would. The Arrow ring is, as always enchanted by me in one way or another. It is nothing special but a word of warning to BlueJay, unless you want to be forthright with Kam about our little chat I would recommend you don’t let him use it. And Kam…Dear Kam it would probably be wise not to let BlueJay use the ring either, it reveals those secrets that are perhaps best left hidden. Though you, at least, BlueJay are master pathfinders I am sure that this ring will help you find your way.

Sincerely,

Archimage Underscore A



Kam felt the emotions flood his face. The subtle clue was glaringly obvious to both of them. Both raised their eyes to face each other. Each of them had a choice to make, to tell the other and ask their questions, or to try to ignore the whole thing. Bringing things to ahead or letting this acid eat away at them till they broke apart. “I think. I think that we need to have a little talk…”

He sat in silence as BlueJay talked over the individual aspects of Archimage’s torture session. The last line was so much avoided that BlueJay didn’t say it until a full half minute after Kam asked “and then?”

“Well. Well the thing basically is that. It’s that he wants me... DAM IT MAN! Ok one two three! He wants me to screw you. Ok there I said it. Happy Archimage!!!”

The silence answered his rant to the ceiling. Eventually he looked down at Kam, who was sitting with a fairly resigned look on his face. “Ok. Well you are gonna have to do what you have got to do. But this isn’t about you. This is about me. It was a long time ago and I was a much younger person. Well it all started with my father….

Kam looked into Archimage’s eyes. They gleamed with the innocence of a million summer’s days. It was why he loved him. Why His father hand brought them together. Archimage would have a good influence on him and then he’d be able to grow up a little bit perhaps. But it worked to well. Kam would follow Archimage where ever he went, work with him. Soon Kam was doing everything, he didn’t stop to thing of the consequences that would have on Archimage, no. He didn’t notice that Archimage was slowly having more and more free time. That’s what brought them to that moment. That peaceful moment by the river side, the instant that would change both of their lives for ever. Archimage’s eyes blazed with the ferocity, their usual innocence still shone bright next to it. It was the moment after Kam confessed himself to Archimage. Kam expected a moment or two of bewilderment but there was none. In its place was the cold hard reality of the situation, the animalistic nature of Archimage that took hold of the situation. “How can you sit there and say that! Maybe a when we first met but now! You have destroyed my life and now you profess to love me! How can you? You have never for a moment stopped to thing how you would affect me! Even now you don’t grasp that I have feelings. You just assumed that your own feelings were the same as mine!” Kam was taken aback but his own willpower began to push ahead, his old self belief rose to face the opposition Archimage had presented.

“Look Archimage, I know you are going through a rough patch but be realistic… You were never as good as I was at those jobs. I bet there is even a part of you that believes that it is better that I have taken over.”

Archimage struck him hard across the face. “Listen I don’t want to see you ever again!”

Kam’s eyes narrowed, for all Archimage’s ‘hard work’ he didn’t actually have any real muscle so to speak of. He could probably take him; he that used to hurl stones across rivers and climbed more walls than he had eaten hot meals. It was a soft slick move. Forward and down. Archimage tried to fight but Kam held him easily down. His own face pushed down onto Archimage’s. “Let me GO!”

“Either enjoy it or shut up…” The innocence of the passed years disappeared for almost an hour. All the time Archimage wormed and tried to get away from it, but each time Kam pulled him back, making sure that he had his fill. Like the good old days. Finally he brought his fist down on Archimage’s temple, and suddenly he was very still. Archimage’s eyes looked up at him as his head turned one eighty. “What is this!” The eyes were not devoid of their innocence but it wasn’t innocence any longer, or had it ever been. The look that Archimage gave him bore deep into him. The look was of deceit. Archimage’s weedy arms bent round and clamped down on Kam’s Biceps. Molten irons wrapped around Kam’s arms, their heat cut through the flesh as thick smoke filled the air. Kam felt the pain wrack through his body. The Iron’s dripped round, searing great swaths of flesh as they went. Archimage’s hands moved up his arms towards his shoulders, the encasement of Iron cooling like wondrous pain. Bone and muscle alike were burnt, only their cavity left a mould to show what had been. Kam felt his lungs reaching for more oxygen as the pain receptors worked overtime in his mind. “Archimage PLEASE STOP!!”

All that Archimage said was “Enjoy it or Shut up.” There was a twisted smile as reality dawned on Kam. The iron ran down his chest, riding each of his abs in turn. Finally the hands reached the neck. Archimage clenched the sides as the iron bit into the flesh. The slag had run the length of Kam’s body now, riding down some invisible mid-point. Now the thicker, larger globs ran the cracks that were in his skin now. His thighs soon encased in permanent chaps. Kam felt the unending torrent of suffering reaching further and further round his waistline. Other pain began to vanish as Archimage’s hand drew together, and a lump the size of his fist formed. It lazily dragged down his previously untouched sternum, to each of its sides the iron bit through the ribs to touch the lungs, only to reveal the thick iron that had somehow forced its way through the veins, into the heart and from their penetrated the whole chest. But the fist carried on down, running over his belly button and finally down into the thick jungle of matted hairs. It sliced through them in moments, running up the thing fibres and then dripping decisively from the tip. The finally tear shaped drops crashed down, but ultimately their damage was absorbed by the fist. It ripped through the nerves like pure pain as it rocketed through what should have been not existent relays under Kam’s skin. The pain focused solely there as Kam’s mind gave into its limits and it reached its pain threshold. But more basic feelings told him that this ordeal was not over yet. It decided that it had gone as far as gravity could take it and began to rise up the back. A double helix wove around every plate, ripping them from their seating. It continued up till it reached their spinal cortex. It was in the skull and an inch further it would run through his brain. He knew that the brain felt no pain, there was nothing there, but he was sure that two prongs of molten iron would kill him for sure. “Now then perhaps one day we will meet again, but until then I hope this teaches you enough of a lesson.”

“…And that is how it happened. That’s Archimage and I met, and how we parted our ways again afterwards.”

BlueJay sat for a moment. The suffering, the pain all caused by Kam, Kam who he loved, who he cared about…Who he had suffered for. “Kam this isn’t about you, and it isn’t about me. This is just about Archimage. He told me this wasn’t about anyone in particular. It was just about him thinking that we are all like to him. Rewards and punishments, that all it is.”

It was Kam’s turn to sit entrenched in thought now. Was he really just a pet to Archimage? Wait! What? He didn’t care what Archimage thought about him. Archimage was hurt by him but when he looked into his eyes he say the lie that Archimage lived in…Was there something else? ...He could deal with it all later.

“Ok we have weathered this storm, now what the hell does this ring actually do?”



The BlueJay Chronicles Part X, Chapter IV

Archimage A, and you? You are person X

A pin[puncture] of light shone from the otherwise lifeless box. Massy moved closer, sniffing the air for a scent of some kind, there was nothing. Nothing save the smell of hot meat. She called out, if no one claimed it then she was having it. There was no response. She lunged at the box. The wooden box was stronger than she thought, it did not explode when she landed against it. She ran and jumped at it again, her hard skull crashing into it. This time the box began to yield. As she drew back to admire her handy work the splinters of wood fell away to reveal a crate full of meat. It rained from the it, the floor was full of dirt and muck but she didn’t care, she wanted food and she was going to have food. Her teeth ripped though the medium rare carcass that she had chosen. Her tongue suckered the flavour out as they disappeared down her gullet. Another carcass and another flavour to savour. She was finally getting a reward for the maze she had run. It was not short feat to run the maze, traps and monsters of all shapes came at her. Some she ripped apart, others she ran from, others still took a little piece of her. Everything had something about it that would destroy her if she didn’t concentrate. But now she was done. Now all she needed was to eat her fill and leave. Oh and get the spear of course. She snorted at her forgetfulness. One more carcass and then she would take it. The taste was different again, probably more of a well done steak, but she didn’t really care, this was her reward. Carefully her teeth closed around the gilded hilt of the spear, then she made for the exit.

Powerent met her outside. She was Whiskers’, and she was lovely. He hadn’t seen her till now but now he realise why he had disappeared for hours at a time. She trotted passed him and held the spear high for Whiskers to grab. He took it with a solemn look and then held it aloft, pointing towards the heavens as if it had some mystic properties. A faint glimmer of electricity haloed the tip for a moment, then vanished. Powerent watched it, unsure of what it meant or what it was to do, but Whiskers seemed to know what to do. He immediately took Massy by the scruff of the neck and bent down beside her. “Run along home now” She growled softly and then took off into the spread of trees. The caves she has been in were deep below Falador, entered by some long forgotten tunnel, for only the greatest heroes to enter. Now while Powerent thought he could do it Whiskers assured him that, while he didn’t doubt that, it was something that while not killing your outright, could leave you forever scarred. Powerent didn’t really care, but decided that if Whiskers said not to then there must be a good reason for it.

Massy was a Greyforn, like Powerent a half-breed. But instead of Shade and Vampire, she was a merger of Griffin and Python. Half-breeds were never common. In fact there has never been a time when the total population of Half-Breeds has actually made up a percent of the Human Population. Half-Breeds, at least both Pyres and Greyforn, are more accidental than mystical quirks in the world. No one ever experimented to form them, they just happened. If there was perhaps some unwritten rule book then this would rank in the top five. Of course Pyres are not really a Half-Breed as such, no one is entirely sure of how they form, but it has been safely assumed that both Shades and Vampires cannot mate. But how it actually happens for the rest of the Half-Breed population doesn’t take a lot of guess work. Just aberrations in the genetics.

As they began to climb from the rocked pit that lead them down into the lesser jungle they had been in they felt the magic forces ripping their bodies back to their proper sizes. Powerent couldn’t careless about how it had worked, and was just happy that Whiskers had said it was safe. The spear crackled as it passed though the barrier, a moment later a figure step from thin air in front of them. He was standing in a long blue robe with an aqua trim, around him was ever shifting walls of Glyphs, all aqua. They appeared and disappeared at random, some exploding and others simply vanishing into the distance, leaving a faint trail for a moment. “I am Archimage. You will replace what you have taken!” The image began to fade. Powerent’s eyes looked towards Whiskers, but he saw that he was standing in an attack stance, holding the spear at the base of the point and the hilt. It was held in just before it would be thrusted up. The halo reappeared and began to spiral towards the image. The Glyphs began to vibrate and move towards the spear. Flashes of light appeared as they struck the spear. Whiskers was forced back, as he went he dug the spear into the ground. Energy raced from it, pulsing as it was struck. The image began to flicker in and out of existence. “I Need To Stop It. Can You Bind It!” Whiskers said through clenched teeth.

“I can try” Powerent ripped runes from his bag and began the incantations. The spell struck the spear and the halo began to shine a thin circle from it. The beams narrowed to a cone at the heart of the image. More light began to spew forth from the spear. Then it fell silent, the light ceased and time appeared to have stopped.

Powerent felt something in the air, then it happened. The image erupted in a sphere of uniformed light. Swelling up into a mushroom cloud. The spear sucked a small portion of it into itself and the electricity arched across the floor, dancing around the minute iron lumps from a distant battle. Powerent pulled close to Whiskers, his arms coming up under his chest. Hugging him for dear life. “It’ll Be All-Right!” The mushroom began to collapse, as it did the energy fell across the trees and earth around them. Every point became blackened and then nothingness. A crater about fifteen feet wide and the same deep scared the landscape. Just of centre of this was a two metre jut, held by an hourglass shaped pillar. Powerent felt Whisker’s lungs try to expand against his crushing embrace and tried to slacken it. But he couldn’t he was scared out of his mind for some reason. Whiskers was muttering something and the halo appeared again. Light filled the crater light from the pillar. Energy sparked from base to tip and then spread all around to the hole that had been created. Life began to spring again, the perfectly spherical cut was replaced with an earthy slope and the jut they stood upon sank down. The damage remained, but at least it would be covered. Powerent too felt new life cut through the fear inside of him and he actually began to slacken his grip.

Powerent and Whiskers started east, towards the gate. There they would take the fight to Archimage and liberate Falador. Or so Whiskers said. Having seen the spear in action Powerent began to believe him but something inside him told him that they were doomed. It was the same feeling that had told him not to slacken his grip. “Was that really Archimage?” He finally asked when the boring trek finally overcame him.

“No. That was a guardian. The real Archimage is much to strong to fight with this.” He motioned to the spear.

“But you said this was the most powerful weapon you know of, does that mean we cannot beat Archimage?”

Whiskers turned but could not meet Powerent’s pleading eyes. He looked down and away from him. Focusing on a rock that had pushed though the worn road. “No. It means that this weapon can’t beat Archimage. I am not going to lie to you, this is going to be an uphill struggle. But if I know Archimage he will not know what we are doing since we destroyed his guardian, and when he does find out he will be sporting enough to give us a chance to build ourselves up.”

“What do you mean if you know Archimage? Have you met before?”

“Something like that yeah. I met him before I met you”

“Oh right…”Powerent wasn’t exactly convinced that was all there was to it but was not going to push the issue. “So what’s your plan? Just walk up to Falador, wave the spear at them and kill them?”

Whiskers smiled feebly “Pretty much”

Powerent felt himself overcome with doubt but Whiskers had began walking again and he would follow him wherever.

The BlueJay Chronicles Part XI

An Archimage_A production

Falador looked a lot different to what it used to. The castle was still there but the wind simply blew though its many archways, there were not flags or banners to be tasselled by the winds. The white stone had not faded but seemed to just hold the light, no longer did it gleam with the radiance of righteousness. That was the only thing that really remained the same though, the miner’s guild had been replace, no longer the crescent encampment around the ladders. In its place was a long shaft, running straight down into the pits. It came off directly north, disappearing under the walls which also had lost their shine. The western town had been turned into flat after flat, interspersed with slums and refuse…some of it human. What was left of the garden was turned into town, where the mine cut it through the houses ended and the offices began. They extended to the gates on the north side, then it was more houses…more refuse.

Powerent’s eyes stang at the acidic air, it mingled with the tears to burn his face. Whisker’s simply stood at the crossroads, watching the air alter. Usually the popular place for those starting adventures to be, now it too felt the ravages of Archimage’s empire. The outer ring was replaced with a solid stone wall and the inner rings probably made that because they were gone. The altar was obscured by the mass of people surrounding it. They were not dressed in rags but they were dressed in usual cloth but anyone could see the dirt and filth. They carried pickaxes, some bronze, some iron, nothing higher. Around their necks were the talismans that took them to the actual altar. At first glance it seemed to be overused in the extreme, it was only after a few minutes of watching that Whiskers saw the queues and the ruthless efficiency of the whole thing. At perhaps a two minute round trip, the workers exchanged countless air runes for yet more essence. All of them must have been experts judging by the number of runes per trip. “We have to help them.” Powerent declared as he returned from further down the road. Whiskers looked at him with a resigned face.

“We can’t. We are only two people. They are an army, more than an army and look at them. They do their job, there is no change from the old system, now though it a profession, not simply a hobby.”

“I can’t believe you! How can you say that these people want to be like this, they do the same job every day and just live with it! They need help and we are the only ones who can help them!”

“Powerent…” Whiskers took a few steps towards him and put his hand on his shoulder. “We are here to find out what is going on, not to liberate them. I know I said we would attack but we can’t just, how did I put it, ‘wave a spear at them’? We need to find their weaknesses, exploit them.”

“I can’t stand to see these people like this, not after what happened in the…” Powerent broke off, his eyes again filling with tears. He turned away and viciously wiped them. “Whiskers. I AM helping these people. I am not going to let Archimage build up some sort of…”

“POWERENT it’s too late! He already has all the pieces he needs. If this were chess it would be him with a queen verses us with a pawn…we need to play the long game and build up our forces…He can sweep us aside at anytime, our only advantage is the pawns around us. We need to take steps forward together and not get caught at the edge. If we go shooting off on our own he will cut us down. Understand?”

Powerent glared at him and then sat at the side of the road. Whiskers began to move towards him “I need to be alone for a moment…” Whiskers stood for a moment then backed off.

The camp was an easy target but like everything Archimage would no doubt know the moment it attack from some sort of guardian. His plan to simply disable them was futile, both of them needed to pour their full efforts in to stop the guardian and that was while they were attacked by whatever guards the camp had. That was assuming there was only one guardian. No they needed a proper plan, but for the moment that strategy eluded them. In its stead they looked in on the old farm house on the road to Draynor. It was not deserted but it didn’t look like it was in full swing either. They slowly made their way towards the cow field to its north, there were cows but only a few, no where near as many as there should have been. To the east of the cow field the free allotments were destroyed, it looked as if Archimage had tried to set up some sort of farming system but that had been attacked. Now weeds grew across the patches. Whiskers looked to the south of the free allotments, to where the farmer’s fields should extend the full length of the farm. About a meter in there was a wooden barricade, it was laying up again a solid slate wall. The slate had been mainly taken from the eastern wall between the allotments and Draynor Manor, and it was hurriedly put together, and it had scorch marks across most of it. They were focused around breaches in the wall, they might have been built in, or just where the odd shot had broken though but their use was obvious. Powerent began towards the wall, before he even reached the barricade he felt Whiskers throw himself on top of him. The clatter of arrows overhead gave the reason. He felt a hand grab him by the neck and drag him towards the wall, it wasn’t so much a drag as a slow throw. He looked up to see Whiskers back, his eyes watching the surroundings. A minute passed. “Show yourself or be counted as our foe!” The cry rang out from behind the wall. Powerent was actually surprised by that, he assumed that the whole site was near deserted, and if there were any people there they would be Archimage’s people and rip them limb from limb.

“Ok ok” Whiskers brushed along side Powerent, rousing him from his thoughts, “We are not your enemies, we are Whiskers and Powerent. We live…lived across to the west, south of Falador. Now who are you?”

Powerent was the first to see them, they were dressed in medium blue robes, with pointed hats of the same colour. “We are the Order of the Blue Robe.” The voice came from nowhere, all the wizards stood is silence. “We are protectors of the lands and we are foes of Archimage. Why are you here?”

“We seek to fight Archimage.”

“Your quest is indeed the same as ours. We survive on this farm alone. We can offer you advice but come no further, we fight Archimage alone, using ancient magic, magic that stops his magic, forces him to fight on our terms. We cannot be sure that he did not send you, and even if he did not you would break the enchantment we have cast.”

“We need your help. If we are going to defeat Archimage then we need to work together. We can’t stay divided or he shall grind us down. We have seen Falador, it’s Knights were no match…” The voice cut through the air like a dagger, and pierced Whiskers monologue.

“Wrong they were a perfect match, that is why Archimage himself rained destruction on their sacred castle. That is why it fell…” Powerent interrupted them with a rant that, while not as piercing was shrill none the less.

“Why did you not help them! You can stop him here but not in Falador! Why! Tell me why you let him destroy so many lives!!!”

“We could not. We watched him arrive from here. Then he began his magic. We don’t know what he did but he did not seem in a hurry. We tried to stop him, but he used ancient magic as well, he blocked our passage into Falador and sent his army to stop us when he could not reach us. The result is what is around you.” All the Wizards lifted their hands in a wave and a for a moment the same warriors that had attacking Rimmington appeared around them, but more a lot more, they were scattered across the allotments. “We sent some of our Order to Draynor but they have not returned. If you have heard of anything then we would be most grateful.”

“We have not been that way, or heard anything about your Order. Not since the you disappeared from Lumbridge those many years ago. Did it survive?”

“We do not know. After we set our magic there were needed to regain our strength. We have been travelling. When we heard of Varrock and Archimage we started back, we had just passed Falador and were on the cross roads near here when Archimage attack. We set our magic here and then you know the rest.”

“If we find anything we will let you know when we are back here. Have you heard of any other adventurers?”

“Yes, and of them none have returned here.”

“Do you expect them to?”

“No.”

A silence descended with that last reply. Powerent broke it after maybe ten minutes. “Bye then.”

BlueJay Chronicles part XII

Another side of the same story

Archimage looks up from his desk, in itself nothing special, but where he looked and how he looked there…That was something else.

This is from the author so please try to imagine the scene. I will give you some pointers but it is an individual experience. Now then, there are four walls, two of the walls are blank; one has a wooden door; its hinges are wrought iron in a Prince of Wales style. The handle however is brass; it is a rounded handle with a depression at the back for someone to hold onto. The other wall is dominated by a balcony; it is stone like the walls, its grey texture is offset by the flickering light on the desk. The desk is pushed up against the wall on the side nearest the door, without being on that wall that the door is on. There are three books on the desk; the utmost one is a dark green. There is a bookshelf on the opposite wall. It is carved wood and, while not sagging beneath the weight of them, contains many books. Someone on the bookshelf is a glass orb, with a silver stand. It could be described as a crystal ball but that would be a misnomer. The floor has one bear throw which is displayed just before the balcony; the rest is black marble with blue and purple veins running through it. The balcony has a heavy curtain across it, a deep velvet blue, the fibres are perfectly flat so that there is no variation of colour. It is simple an endless chasm of Blue. Beyond that there is a stone balcony with a latticed low wall surrounding it. On one side there is a chair. The chair is maple, a deep red and has curved legs that bend outwards into four curved points so that the chair can rock. From the chair the night stretches away from you.

Now that you know where you are, allow yourself to turn around from the chair. As you turn back the curtain is being drawn back by an invisible hand, beyond it Archimage is arching his signature across a letter bottom. That is when he looks up, and now that you can see him…“I can see you.”



Fires swept though the coast of Rimmington, it’s humans reduced to labour or charcoal. The landscape was now to be tamed. Archimagian Robes, as they had become known, cut the rock faces from the cliffs, dropped them into the wash. From there the rapid waves wore an incline from the sea to the land. The waves had broke across the new beach for the first time. The robes cut down surrounding trees down, the labourers place them to form a dock. Molten rock was prepared and poured across the frame. The sea broke on the new beach for the last time. Andrays wrenched another log free. He was from Lumbridge, a woodsman, that was why he was chosen for this job. He remembered Archimage walking into the castle, waving Duke Horatio’s bow aside, instead embraced him as a brother. He remembered that, they were all brothers, all suited to a job and that job they would do. Everyone would do their job and then all the jobs would be done. Archimage hadn’t left after the meeting with the Duke, as most Nobles would have; but then again Archimage wasn’t a Noble, he was a worker, a worker with a vision, a worker with a vision that they wanted. He had stayed in the town, spoke with the guides, with the priest, even with Andrays. That was something else he would never forget. Archimage listened to him, but more than that he remembered what he said. First he got a new axe, probably because he said his own was a bit work, and then he had been sent here; that was because he had said he wanted to see the world and now here he was.

He was with a lot of his old workmates and others from further a field, but there were also some that weren’t woodsmen, who didn’t take their work with any effort, who constantly lost their equipment and got into trouble. He had asked one of the Robes about it. They had said that they were here because this was were they lived, they had refused to give professions or accept other placements so they had been left here with instructions. A few days later they had started killing other workers and destroying the work that they had started, so the Robes had been brought in and were going to be here until the work was complete and some regular army could use the new installation. Andrays was shocked. How could these people not see what they were doing? How could they not be helping to build a better future for themselves. After the installation had been completed there would be a new town built there, under the supervision of the army base they were currently building. These people were going to stay here, they were going to benefit, he wasn’t, he was here to help the cause, after this he would move on to somewhere else and do something else. He thanked the Robe and went back to constructing the fence. He kept thinking about the others, could it really be true? Maybe it was some test of loyalty? Yes that was it, the Robes wanted him to get everyone united in the face of the common foe. He smiled at his own foolishness, he would unite everyone and then they would decide what the Robes wanted them to do.

The night descended quickly, in about half an hour it had gone from a warm summers day to a cold winter night, the labourer from Lumbridge all returned to their cabin. It was a basic wooden construct that housed about ten people, there were only seven of them so they had a bit of room usually, but tonight the place was packed. About thirty people squeezed in to here what Andrays had to say. They too first met the whole thing with firm disbelief, they all couldn’t believe that anyone would want to destroy their dream, but slowly they began to remember the people back in their home towns, the ones that were always in their armour and always going somewhere to kill something or to do some sort of quest. They were the ones who crushed their dreams, who shouted obscenities at them while they tried to scrap an existence out from mining or woodsmanship. These people were obviously the same kind of people, they had refused to help anyone else and now they were going to make it as difficult as possible to do anything useful. There was a lot of talking, everyone had an opinion and were discussing their experiences with their neighbours. Andrays smiled to himself again as the bonds of comradeship began to take hold. They would not be easily broken and now he could move to stage two. ‘What are we going to do about them?’

The effect was amazing, the conversations, which had been winding down, now erupted into heated debates. People shouted all sorts of plans, most of which involved killing as many of them as possible. It was Reiche, another woodsman from Lumbridge, who bellowed ‘What does Archimage want us to do!’ that made everyone suddenly silent. He looked around him, everyone was watching him. He gulped once or twice, cleared his throat and began to talk in a slow tone that suggested he was being careful with what he said, but still rambled around the point for nearly a minute before he summarised it ‘If Archimage has willed them to work here then they must work here. He didn’t want them killed then and he doesn’t want them killed now.’

The group was in a stunned silence, Andrays was the first to recover ‘Archimage is right. We shouldn’t kill them, but we shouldn’t mix with them. Tonight we have formed a community, a strong community, if we let them mix with us then we will lose everything we have worked to gain here. I propose that we protect ourselves from their destructive influences’

Now the floor was open and someone near the front responded ‘No we need to convert them, bring them into our community. Andrays wants us to be strong, we need to be strong together, tackle the outsider. If we start down the path to segregation how long will it be till we break again? Miners and woodsmen?’

Another voice started up, this time closer the back ‘He’s right, they have already split us on this, we need to make sure that no matter what happens we are united. I say we give it a shot!’

There was a rupture of applause but as it waned one person was still slowly clapping. It was Andrays ‘Bravo….Bravo….I was very nearly ready to believe you if not for one thing.’ He gave a pause, no one spoke ‘What if they don’t want to be converted, don’t you think its already been tried? What if they turn violent? A fight would shatter any chance of us working together. Maybe your right, maybe we can work with them, but I know that will be a day far away. Right now we need to build our own strength, make sure that we can handle them in a fight…and as Archimage said we are both here to work. Its not our job to make them see things our way, just as its not our job to kill them.’ The room fell into an uneasy silence, both arguments had their good points, but that was useless to Andrays, he needed to know where he stood. ‘Everyone, if you want to follow Archimage’s Law then stand on the right. If you want to betray him and go to your death following those who want to befriend the savages, stand on the left.’

His speech was received perfectly by the audience and within moments people were moving to the right. Then something went wrong ‘The left has a name and it is Lyle!’ The crowd stopped to watch him, waiting for something that would change their minds. ‘Move only to the right if you want to destroy the very fabric of Archimage’s…of our dream. How can you listen to Andrays’ load of bull$*^! ? Archimage’s Law as he put it says we are here for a reason, that reason is to work on the dream! The dream that everyone has a place, not some imperfect world were the strong kill the weak. If you want to follow your heart and follow the Dream then come over to the left.’

Andrays went to say something, but nothing new came to mind, but as he watched he saw that some people were not going to the left, they were staying right with him. He began to count but Lyle cut him off. ‘Its equal. We need to be united in this effort. If we start working against each other then we will doubtlessly lose the comradeship we have now. I propose we meet back here tomorrow, both Andrays and myself need to talk to you, and find out exactly what it is you want from us. Is there anything you would like to add Andrays?’ The point was made almost in jest, if Andrays said anything he might look stupid, but if he said nothing he would look weak.

‘Only that I hope we can resolve our differences, I want a united group above all else.’ There was something else, but he couldn’t work out what it was before

‘Well said. I think that’s everything so I bid you all a goodnight.’ With that Lyle had effectively ended the meeting and since he was not from Lumbridge he left, along with the rest if the none Lumbridgians. It was over in a flash and now Andrays’ dream lay ruined, he had been the one to split the party and Lyle had taken charge. The others in the cabin had mainly voted for him so there was no problems there but he felt like crawling into a hole somewhere and dying. But…No he needed to carry on the fight, he took three deep breaths and cleared his mind. The battle was far from over, he had maintained half his support, that would be enough to keep him in good stead till tomorrow, then he would change some peoples opinions, crush Lyle and reign supreme.

Lyle walked back to the Varrock and Edgeville Cabin. Strictly speaking he wasn’t part of either he lived just north of Draynor Manor near the Cooks Guild, but as he was the only one from that area he had been put with his two neighbouring cities. The cabin was larger than the Lumbridge Cabin, but its beds were bolted down, so it wasn’t chosen for the meeting, that was the reason that Andrays gave anyway. It was dominated by Edgeville woodsmen with a ration of four to one verses the Varrock miners, in all there were seventeen of them making up over half the group that had met. The only two other groups were the Rimmington group and the Draynor group. As he walked past the four man Draynor cabin he noticed that he was being followed by the rest of the group. He turned about to face them.

BlueJay Chronicles part XIII

Director: Archimage A

For the second time this week BlueJay found himself watching the individual droplets of water. How they were drawn together by the stalactite that so many of their brethren had formed, and then cast themselves down to the stalagmite far below. They made a difference though he thought, over the many years that they had been falling in the cycle they had drawn the two opposing points together…Like a bridge he thought. He let himself form a smile and he laughed to himself, he had never thought of it like that. All those millions that couldn’t really make a difference had, and one day they would complete their work and never have to hurl themselves from one point to the other again. He shook his head and continued his playful smile as Kam’s head rose in question of what was so amusing. ‘Oh its nothing, how you feeling?’

Kam eyebrows told BlueJay he was being mocked for his laugh, to which he just rolled his eyes and waited for a response. ‘Worn out is an understatement. I know you were worried about Archimage but did you really need to do all those things!’

BlueJay acted as if he was truly hurt by the comment ‘Hey! I did all those things because I love you…Besides I didn’t here you complaining’ Another smile curved its way onto his face and Kam smiled back. It really had been wonderful to actually get his feelings out in the open for a while. Odd how threats make morals disappear… But who needed them anyway, they were together now, locked by the law of the land. Not that that mattered much to him, he wasn’t planning to leave Kam’s side anytime soon. But by from the same base laws that made them come together, came the force to pull them apart. Eternity could have passed while they stared into each others eyes, but hunger more than anything broke the moment. It became all to clear that while their limbs were locked in embrace that someone had spirited away their supplies replacing them with to tarnished bronze rings. Archimage’s idea of a present no doubt but there was always an agenda behind his actions. BlueJay knew that much from his dealings with him. They would have to break the surface to get more, no more ‘happy couples’ but at least they would be doing something. It was only then that he realised that he had no idea where he was in relation to the surface, his path finding skills temporarily deserting him, making him realise that he would have to put his head up somewhere.

The Varrock sewer system was no designed for easy access, if anything it was designed to be as remote as possible so that nothing could make its way back up. Partly because of invaders using it against them and partly because King Rimini knew that vagrants used it as a shelter. His idea? Simply make sure they got lost and something killed them, no blood on his hands. Of course that was awhile back and since then a lot more drainage had been dug and so it was easier to access than before, but it was still a maze. Kam set off briskly, BlueJay following somewhat more leisurely, it wouldn’t be too long before they found something. What though surprised them. A thick torrent of blood washed though the ditches either side, no doubt from a butchers or an abattoir, an exit at least.

The solid smell of freshly cut meat fought with the undercurrent of death and decay that was Jerry’s Meatary. It was possibly only still open because no health official had been willing to walk beyond the kitchen door, now BlueJay and Kam had no choice in the matter. Outside the main wall it was the furthest you could be without having actually left Varrock. A third triad of scents caught Kam’s attention. It was, from what his nose could tell, a shear of lamb, covered in a honey nut glaze and had mint sauce on the side. BlueJay gave a side on look that simply said ‘ok then’ as Kam relayed the information, there was just no way anyone could sense that against the other smells already present, but it hardly mattered anyway. BlueJay eased the covering off the drain a few minutes after the flow had returned to water, it seemed that whomever was working out there had finished for the moment.

Kam felt his fingertips brush the slippery floor, his hand flattened to give him more grip but was still too unstable to pull his body up. He sank back onto the ladder, unfastening the bolts that held the bars in place. Using them as leverage he pulled himself up against the walls, his legs hanging useless in the air, having grown tired of slipping on the wet ladder clamps. He lay lengthways across the entrance and thrust his hand to BlueJay, with each moment perspiration threatened to let him fall to his death but for just that moment he held on. Kam ripped his hand back, literally throwing BlueJay over him. They both remained were they were for a second, sure that someone would come in to see what the commotion was all about. But nothing, not till BlueJay finally had enough of lying haphazardly on the floor, his trouser leg ripped by a swinging meat hook that had magically missed the flesh. He used the table that had finally stopped him, at the expense of a killer headache, to pull himself up, trying desperately to pull his leg free before Kam saw him. When he did there was a stifled laugh and then a guilty-but-you-have-to-admit-it-was-funny look. BlueJay just returned, are-you-going-to-help-or-am-I-gonna-kill-you?

The gouge had started on a seam and then diagonally extended almost the full length of the leg. BlueJay grabbed what was left of them and searched for a pocket, at least he could patch it up till they got something better than homespun string and a rusty needle. Kam simply went to the door and, using a cleaver, looked under it. Outside there was of course a rack of spices, he cursed lightly and turned the blade a bit to get a full view. There was a counter and from the looks of it all the staff were working the floor or in the kitchen directly behind the till. ‘Hey, what’s the…’The clatter of blade was so audible that BlueJay just left the sentence in mid-air. They both froze for a second, the cleaver still showed a view of the counter as it lay there, feet came into its view. Kam scrambled backwards which signalled to BlueJay that a fight was imminent. The door handle didn’t move, instead the whole metal cast door simply creaked under a sudden pressure and fell backwards into the room, throwing up a spray of dust. Anything that could do that would be able to kill both of them instantly given half a chance, so the idea was not to give it one. BlueJay drew his Scimitar and leapt forward. Kam reacted similarly, wielding another, slightly larger meat cleaver. Through the cloud of dust came a red Robed figure. BlueJay immediately knew what was going to happen next and slackened his hand so the scimitar dropped from it. He passed though the figure and collided with Kam. He felt the clean cut of the cleaver ride across his thigh, his head exploded with pain then…the blackness surrounded him as he passed out.

BlueJay Chronicles part XIV

Producer: Archimage A

Powerent kicked a stone from his path. ‘Stupid wizards, think they know best Ha’ he muttered beneath his breath ‘Show them who will not return’ Whiskers let out a gentle sigh, almost indistinguishable to normal breathing but Powerent heard ‘Oh sorry I am angry with those f^£&”ards, I forgot that they are only protecting themselves!’

‘Powerent shut up, just deal with it. We can’t do anything about it right now so why are you so bothered.’

‘Because they are so £$”$ed up! “Oh yes, we don’t expect anyone to return because no one has our sort of power” How much more of £$”$ up can you be to think like that.’

‘I don’t know but I know you are being even more of a “£$% up for continually bringing it up. In case you hadn’t notices we still got some useful information out of them, and now that we know that Archimage can be stopped we are a step closer to defeating him’

Powerent kicked the stone again, it bounced down the side of the path, throwing up a spray of dust before it hit half-buried stone and bounced over the low rung of the fence. With that he hastened his step and was soon a few steps ahead of Whiskers. ‘You know the worse part of all this is don’t you?’

‘No Powerent, what could possibly have escaped me apart from the psychopathic killer controlling the world and threatening to turn us into mindless drones?’

‘Its that I haven’t had a drink you complete £”$”er, I am trying to lighten the mood’

Whiskers shot death rays at the back of Powerent’s head ‘Oh really, well in that case I will just ask these two if…’ Whiskers left the sentence hanging as his head snapped left to see two barely dressed teenagers belting it towards them. Powerent turned around to find out why Whiskers had stopped insulting him.

‘Oh Jesus H. Christ!’ The closer of the two teenagers drew up a bow, seemingly from no where. The other dived to the ground, reappearing a moment later encased in a shimmering ball of light. ‘Archimage Scum throw down your weapons’

‘F”£$ off, we aren’t with Archimage’ Powerent balled at them.

‘I don’t care who your with get rid of your weapons now!’

‘You can come and get them from my Cold dead…’

‘…POWERENT NO!’ It was too late, the arrow had left the bow and bolts of fire began to rain from the sky.

‘F”£$in get off me!’

‘Shut the hell up!’ His eyes blazed with the effect of red hot pokers to bare flesh. ‘Listen to me you two, we are not your enemy.’

‘Then prove it, throw down your weapons and come out.’

‘Perhaps we could…’

‘THROW DOWN YOUR M”£$”£ F”£$”£!IN WEAPONS AND COME OUT!’

‘Ok Ok.’ Flipping teenagers. Whiskers released Powerent from the death grip he had been holding him with and withdrew the dagger from Powerent’s pocket.

‘Hey give that back!’

‘Shut up or you will have a rather nasty accident with my fist! We are out classed by these two and your dagger isn’t gonna help us much.’

‘I would rather take my chances.’ Whiskers was sure he heard something else but the wind ripped it from his ears and it was gone. Whiskers grabbed his own set of daggers from his belt, then holding them by the hilt, between his fingers he stood up. The two crazed teenagers had come closer but were still pretty far out. On a good day he could probably take one of them out, but after the passed few days his good days would be a long time coming. Powerent could doubtlessly take them but it hardly seemed worthwhile. ‘Ok I am gonna put them down here, ok?’

The girl began to move closer, safe in the knowledge that her magic could protect her from anything they were likely to throw at her. Whiskers extended his hand as she came to a stop about five metres away. She eyed him up and down, then satisfied that he wasn’t carrying anything else, ‘Where’s the other one?’ Whiskers turned to pull Powerent up, only to find that he was no where to be seen. The girl was on her guard in and instant, shouting something to her archer friend. His keen eyes [puncture]ed like a rabbits ears, literally feeling the air around him for something. ‘He’s no where to be seen’ Whiskers knew immediately what was going to happen now, her hands turned scarlet, within a second they would become flame, and moments later he would have to best her without weapons. Like that’ll work. Springing your legs from straight is not something that is entirely possible, but many things that are impossible have an odd way off happening, its all about probability, master that and you have the impossible. Whiskers elbow connected with the magic protection instantly splitting it’s protection to two separate spheres. His forearm slashing out, bringing his fist down across her nose, shattering her nose. In an instant her vision was reduced to a blurred red and as she moved to wipe it from her eyes her arms erupted into flame. In an instant the pain overwhelmed her and she let out a piercing cry, not quite dead though. Whiskers looked up, half expecting to see an arrow with his name on it. Powerent had other ideas though. Whiskers listened carefully as a grunting caught his ear, coupled with sobbing and the odd moment of panic clawing. He knew what was happening and simply looked away.

‘You missed a bit.’ Whiskers indicated to his own cheek.

A smile lit across Powerent’s face as his tongue felt around for the errant droplet of blood. Whiskers just shook his head, even after all the things he had seen and endured Powerent was still one of a kind. ‘Oh come on, like you have never tried it.’

‘I haven’t and you know it. I doubt that any other Pyre has quite your appetite.’

Now it was Powerent’s turn to roll his eyes ‘You know what I mean, the thrill of the chase, the pathetic fight they put up before they give in to fate.’

‘I know the pathetic little fight you give up.’ His eyes flashed as Powerent feigned injury.

‘Now who’s being optimistic?’

Whiskers felt Powerent’s hard caress and his nerves erupt in protest as he grabbed his arm. ‘No we haven’t got time’ His eyes were out of focus, as though he couldn’t quite say it to Powerent’s face. ‘Come on, whoever those two were with there are bound to be more of them. I am sure that they will be more reasonable, but why take that chance.’

Powerent snorted at his feeble excuse but kept his hands between himself and his bottle, to which he playfully tormented Whisker’s temptation with.

BlueJay Chronicles Part XV

Directed and produced by Archimage A

For the second time this week BlueJay found himself watching the individual droplets of water. How they were drawn together by the stalactite that so many of their brethren had formed, and then cast themselves down to the stalagmite far below. They made a difference though he thought, over the many years that they had been falling in the cycle they had drawn the two opposing points together…Like a bridge he thought. He let himself form a smile and he laughed to himself, he had never thought of it like that. All those millions that couldn’t really make a difference had, and one day they would complete their work and never have to hurl themselves from one point to the other again. He shook his head and continued his playful smile as Kam’s head rose in question of what was so amusing. ‘Oh its nothing, how you feeling?’

Kam eyebrows told BlueJay he was being mocked for his laugh, to which he just rolled his eyes and waited for a response. ‘Worn out is an understatement. I know you were worried about Archimage but did you really need to do all those things!’

BlueJay acted as if he was truly hurt by the comment ‘Hey! I did all those things because I love you…Besides I didn’t here you complaining’ Another smile curved its way onto his face and Kam smiled back. It really had been wonderful to actually get his feelings out in the open for a while. Odd how threats make morals disappear… But who needed them anyway, they were together now, locked by the law of the land. Not that that mattered much to him, he wasn’t planning to leave Kam’s side anytime soon. But by from the same base laws that made them come together, came the force to pull them apart. Eternity could have passed while they stared into each others eyes, but hunger more than anything broke the moment. It became all to clear that while their limbs were locked in embrace that someone had spirited away their supplies replacing them with to tarnished bronze rings. Archimage’s idea of a present no doubt but there was always an agenda behind his actions. BlueJay knew that much from his dealings with him. They would have to break the surface to get more, no more ‘happy couples’ but at least they would be doing something. It was only then that he realised that he had no idea where he was in relation to the surface, his path finding skills temporarily deserting him, making him realise that he would have to put his head up somewhere.

The Varrock sewer system was no designed for easy access, if anything it was designed to be as remote as possible so that nothing could make its way back up. Partly because of invaders using it against them and partly because King Rimini knew that vagrants used it as a shelter. His idea? Simply make sure they got lost and something killed them, no blood on his hands. Of course that was awhile back and since then a lot more drainage had been dug and so it was easier to access than before, but it was still a maze. Kam set off briskly, BlueJay following somewhat more leisurely, it wouldn’t be too long before they found something. What though surprised them. A thick torrent of blood washed though the ditches either side, no doubt from a butchers or an abattoir, an exit at least.

The solid smell of freshly cut meat fought with the undercurrent of death and decay that was Jerry’s Meatary. It was possibly only still open because no health official had been willing to walk beyond the kitchen door, now BlueJay and Kam had no choice in the matter. Outside the main wall it was the furthest you could be without having actually left Varrock. A third triad of scents caught Kam’s attention. It was, from what his nose could tell, a shear of lamb, covered in a honey nut glaze and had mint sauce on the side. BlueJay gave a side on look that simply said ‘ok then’ as Kam relayed the information, there was just no way anyone could sense that against the other smells already present, but it hardly mattered anyway. BlueJay eased the covering off the drain a few minutes after the flow had returned to water, it seemed that whomever was working out there had finished for the moment.

Kam felt his fingertips brush the slippery floor, his hand flattened to give him more grip but was still too unstable to pull his body up. He sank back onto the ladder, unfastening the bolts that held the bars in place. Using them as leverage he pulled himself up against the walls, his legs hanging useless in the air, having grown tired of slipping on the wet ladder clamps. He lay lengthways across the entrance and thrust his hand to BlueJay, with each moment perspiration threatened to let him fall to his death but for just that moment he held on. Kam ripped his hand back, literally throwing BlueJay over him. They both remained were they were for a second, sure that someone would come in to see what the commotion was all about. But nothing, not till BlueJay finally had enough of lying haphazardly on the floor, his trouser leg ripped by a swinging meat hook that had magically missed the flesh. He used the table that had finally stopped him, at the expense of a killer headache, to pull himself up, trying desperately to pull his leg free before Kam saw him. When he did there was a stifled laugh and then a guilty-but-you-have-to-admit-it-was-funny look. BlueJay just returned, are-you-going-to-help-or-am-I-gonna-kill-you?

The gouge had started on a seam and then diagonally extended almost the full length of the leg. BlueJay grabbed what was left of them and searched for a pocket, at least he could patch it up till they got something better than homespun string and a rusty needle. Kam simply went to the door and, using a cleaver, looked under it. Outside there was of course a rack of spices, he cursed lightly and turned the blade a bit to get a full view. There was a counter and from the looks of it all the staff were working the floor or in the kitchen directly behind the till. ‘Hey, what’s the…’The clatter of blade was so audible that BlueJay just left the sentence in mid-air. They both froze for a second, the cleaver still showed a view of the counter as it lay there, feet came into its view. Kam scrambled backwards which signalled to BlueJay that a fight was imminent. The door handle didn’t move, instead the whole metal cast door simply creaked under a sudden pressure and fell backwards into the room, throwing up a spray of dust. Anything that could do that would be able to kill both of them instantly given half a chance, so the idea was not to give it one. BlueJay drew his Scimitar and leapt forward. Kam reacted similarly, wielding another, slightly larger meat cleaver. Through the cloud of dust came a red Robed figure. BlueJay immediately knew what was going to happen next and slackened his hand so the scimitar dropped from it. He passed though the figure and collided with Kam. He felt the clean cut of the cleaver ride across his thigh, his head exploded with pain then…the blackness surrounded him as he passed out.

BlueJay Chronicles Part XVI

“‘And so that is why we must unite in the face of the unspeakable evils of the world.’ Proclaimed the Wiseman.” The cold wind whipped through the crowd, mesmerized by the Parable. Lyle waited a moment, feeling the audience, waiting for the right moment to unleash the next message. “I tell you this story so that you may see that through union we are able to defeat the otherwise undefeatable; for if the Placites had destroyed the Locites when they had the chance then in the end they too would have been destroyed by the Extradites.”

“Wrong!” The voice drew a gasp from the audience. “If the Placites had destroyed the Locites then they could have fought the Extradites without having to guard their rear from the Locites. I for one was not convinced by your story and I know that the wider, more intelligent part of you will see through this story of make believe.”

“Ah” Remarked Lyman instantly, “But you forget that their grand army was turned against them, so if everything was committed then they would have been destroyed regardlessly. It was only by the combined weight of both the Locites and the Placites that victory was ultimately won.”

“If I had been leading the Placites then I would have lead whatever forces to victory, only someone who was weak could accept that they would lose regardlessly. Besides…Are you saying that if we destroyed the Rebels here that the great power of Archimage would be unable to destroy whatever challenges they faced.”

“It is always impossible to know what will happen tomorrow, suppose a great army was formed in the East, Archimage could not complete his great plan if they all stood united against him. I do not question Archimage’s great strength, simply our own. Who here could say for sure that they could fight the Hoards of the East?” The crowd swayed in the wind, leaning but not quite falling either way. “Ok, if I have not convinced everyone then I feel incline to tell another story, unless of course you object…Andres?” Andres gave a tight smile, inclining his head in approval only so he might tear it apart. “Then I shall. This story takes place many years ago, before the world had spread beyond this free world. A great farmer, greatest of the farmers, the farmer that owned Draynor fields, owned a shed; When the harvest came there was always more food than he could store there. So in time he cursed his problem, wishing that he had more room so that he could make more money, so that he could spread out even further. He decided to tear his shed down, building a larger, grander one in its place. And so it was. But that very night, after his shed was pulled down, there was a great storm. A storm that was sent from the Gods themselves, the storm was sent to wash away the farmer’s house and home. He awoke to find himself cold and wet as the storm raged above him. He waded from the wreckage to his shed, but he found that his new one was long from complete. He raised his arms to the heavens ‘Oh Saradomin why have you forsaken me in my hour of need?’

And the Lord spoke to him, ‘I have not forsaken you, you have forsaken yourself. I thought surely you, greatest of all farmers, would have a shed to sleep in while his house was rebuilt.’

The man cast arms up to the heavens again, sinking down to his knees in submission. ‘Oh Saradomin I have torn it down to be replaced by a bigger and better shed, one that will allow me to grow larger and worship you better.’

But Saradomin saw through the lie ‘You only wish to make yourself wealthier. This has been a test and you have been sound lacking.’

‘Oh God! Please take pity upon me.’

And the Lord surely did look after him while his house was rebuilt, and the shed restored. But why have I told you this story? I have told you the story because the farmer put all his eggs in one basket. Just as Mister Andres wishes, he wishes to build a grand army, one that will surely end in disaster. Archimage will surely save us when that happens but he will not be pleased. That will be our great falling, when we are destroyed completely and utterly begging Archimage to take us back into his flock. So side with Andres if you wish, build your grand army, but keep strong with Archimage, or you will find yourself without protection in a tempest of death.”

The silence plumed as the crowd turned to Andres, expecting a lightning response. But there was none. He remained hand on chin, entrenched in thought. That was of course till someone moved. Then he exploded into action. “Now then.” Taking the audience by surprise, taking even Lyle off guard. “Now then…I have a story for you all. It is about a man. A man who has a dream. A dream of a future without problems. A future so great and so wonderful that problems will not even be thought to exist. A future were everyone can follow their own path. However there was a wall built across his path. A wall that would have stopped the future if he had let it. Surely he could walk around it, ignore it, make alliances with those who had built it. But why? They have attempted to stop him, surely they must be punished lest they do it again. That is why he used his power to cut through the wall. Destroying it brick by brick until he had caved a gateway though it. Then he carried on towards his dream. That dream still lies unfinished today because that man. That man, was Archimage A. And that is who we need to be like, we need to march ahead, regardless of those in our way. Any who try to stop us must be crushed beneath our heel so they cannot do it again!”

There was some cheering as he finished speaking. He had whipped up an almost religious fever, but there was still a great many of them that where not entirely convinced of his power. They could pose a problem in the future, just like Lyle. He would pose the greatest threat. He would kill him in a moment if it would get him closer to his…No Archimage’s dream. But he would have to crush him, not simply kill him. Lay him bare before the people, only then could he rise supreme.

But that day was some way away. The crowd split into groups, those groups into groups, those groups into pairs. Those pairs left the main huddle. Soon there would be no one there. Andres slapped on a false smile walking towards Lyle, who was also smiling forcedly. “Well put stories, very enjoyable diversions.”

“As was yours. I am surprised that you show such insight into Archimage’s Dream. He is a very complex character.”

“Oh you know, once you get to know him he can be quite…not simple but he is quite an amazing explainer of those complex ideas. Yours though showed more into the Church, are you a religious man?” The question asked expertly seemed nothing special, but everyone knew that Archimage frowned on the Gods.

“Oh yes I am. I believe that Archimage is our saviour and that is all we know, when Archimage deems it necessary he will explain the rest.”

“Well put, perhaps you will have some luck in the future, but I wish it to you anyway.”

“I thank you and return the favour; perhaps Archimage may yet allow you to see the light.”

They both smiled wider, shaking the other’s hand. The hatred was tangible, even to the least able minded person. Then Andres turned back to the cabin. Lyle’s eyes rained daggers down upon his back. Death would be too little for him. He wanted him to suffer. However long it took he would make sure that his destruction would be greater than any other. Archimage himself would be able to look down and smile at the act of loyalty that it would demonstrate.

The BlueJay Chronicles Part XVII

A ready made production.

The blackness swirled in and out of focus, the different shades fighting each other for dominance. BlueJay felt the searing pain of an Iron bar though his leg, he looked down for it, clutching the gapping wound as though to stop the pain. But there was no wound, only the sensation. He tried to move. The pain trebled in it’s intensity and some invisible force held him tight in place. “F£%$”

“Quiet in there!” Came the harsh response from somewhere, BlueJay wasn’t quite sure, the whole world was still in darkness. He reached out with his free hand, the other keeping pressure on the wound, numbing the pain only slightly. He was surrounded by air on all but one side, on that side there was a wall. The wall was leather with what felt like an arch of wood, instinct told him it was oak. His hand followed it up above his head where it arched away from him. Instinct again told him that if the curve continued like it was then he was in a room around three metres wide. He felt out with his free leg, searching for something, anything. But only air met his path.

It was about twenty minutes later when something actually started happening. First there was a massive jolt of pain steaming from his leg. Then there was a wrenching as it felt as though the bar was being forced forward, it was accompanied by an even larger jolt of pain. “F^£$!!” He screamed louder than he ever had before. His scream was accompanied by three others, of which his instincts told one was Kam. Then the bar was drawn backwards, as though on some kind of cycle. BlueJay immediately knew that this was not going to happen for long. He felt the sweet numbness of unconsciousness calling him to join with it. But there was no such luck, the bolt withdrew into nothingness and he was sent hurtling into the back of the room. There the immediate impact was superseded by the impact of two bodies on his back. Through some hellish miracle he was still able to feel the varying levels of pain that racked him. He felt for the leather, biting down hard on it when he found it. Though clenched teeth he felt the cool air drawn in, he had bitten straight though the sheet. He sucked it in as he realised the temperature inside the room was baking. The pain slowly began to level out then drop with some equally slow speed. With the pain finally reaching semi-bearable levels he could now feel that they were all moving, it was so subtle compared to the brute force he had endured, but now that he knew it was there it jangled every injury, imagined or otherwise.

Kam felt around with his free leg but there was nothing, then there had been a jolt of pain, to which he had curled towards as though to protect it. Then for a moment the pain ceased, only a moment though. For that moment later the wrath that unfurled was so mighty he could not ignore it for a moment. The bar wrapped itself around every bone, every muscle, wrenching it apart, bending it the wrong way, making him a puppet on a string as much as anything else. Each of his bones shattered in only another moment, the debris impaling itself though all the muscles and cartilage. His body fought the external power as it spasmed in response to this attack. These weren’t purely psychological, these were real injuries. His body overcame the external force, but it did not overcome the pain, for without the bars supporting what was left his body simply collapsed into a heap of bone and flesh. A few moments passed in such agony endorphins did not even effect it, then came the solid wall of blackness, not the pitch black that existed inside the room. No something much darker, much deeper, something that enveloped everything it touched. Kam felt it call to him.

BlueJay felt around for something to steady himself, so he could stand up. The two bodies around him were flailing helplessly, lost inside a sea of pain. His own pain had subsided into a dull ache accompanying a handful of bruises. He peered though the sheet of leather, having put two and two together and got he was in a caravan of some sort, outside there was arid land, nothing moving, but the trees were still living. The wind was non-existent so none of the leaves moved. He summoned up what strength remained inside him to punch a hole though the sheet. His whole arm going though, stopped only by his shoulder. He remained there for a second regathering his strength so that his other arm could push him gently back. Unfortunately it went less smoothly than he expected ending instead with him being thrown back into a sticky pile of mess some feet back. The light shone through, illuminating Kam’s contorted face lying next to him.

The dark plane that Kam had arrived on was almost the same as that of the Caravan that he had left, only the lack of pain showed it to be anything but. He walked around, feeling his way like a mime as walls that he could not see erupted into his path, feeling round each one in turn. A piercing light cut though the darkness, like a lighthouse in a storm, but like a lighthouse it shone away from him again. He tried to reach it but every turn was accompanied by another wall. Sidestepping along the wall till he found its end, then edging round it till he was again trapped by a wall, intermittently the light showed his way to be clear but then it was not as it turned away again.

Harib pulled himself into the lotus position, breathing long and deep he suppressed the pain, enclosing it in a smaller and smaller place until eventually it no longer existed at all. He looked about him, a puncture in the wall showed a room about five metres long by three metres wide. Next to him lie a man, he was gibbering as the pain overran his mind. Harib felt for his Aura, focusing it to help him. The two auras interacting, levelling the pain between them till Harib has dispersed it all. The man kept shaking till he slipped from this world into the realms of fantasy. He would be alright in a few hours. The more pressing issue he discovered though was a few meters back, there were two bodies, one was complete but is disarray, crying with all his heart. The other…Well it appeared that someone had taken a hammer and systematically beat him till all that was left was blood and bone shards. He reached out with his Aura, trying to comfort the first man. Their auras mixed without problem but rapturous pain flooded down into him. There was something trying to get out but he could not tell what.

Kam felt the floor give way. He was tumberling, out of control, head first into the abyss that lay beneath him. He felt the ripples on his skin as his solid form encountered the wind, then the grasping of something on his leg. It was the attacker from the sewer, he was here for some reason. Kam extended his other leg into his face, he just kept hanging on, blood streaming out behind him. Kam brought his foot down on him again and again, each time more and more of his face was destroyed but he refused to let go. Kam saw the ground rushing up to meet them. He pulled his leg in, the attacker still holding on for dear life. His other leg brought crashing up into the back of his head. Shards of bone fragmented and fell away as Kam’s knee erupted though his skull. Then he fell away. Kam looked back towards the ground, it was coming up at a frightening speed. He could see two domes below him, Lumbridge to the south of one of them…DAMN they where Varrock and Falador. Damn Damn Damn!! Kam felt himself being pulled towards the space between Varrock and Lumbridge, more towards Varrock. Something wrenching him there. He tried to pull against it but there nothing he could do.

Harib felt the second aura just before it tried to overwhelm him. In an instant he locked it out, disconnected and redoubled his defence. It crashed up against him. BlueJay got up and turned towards him. Another aura tumbled from the sky and then there was darkness once again.



The BlueJay Chronicles Part XVIII

A Roman Numeral Production

The bottle was galvanized steel. The red tidal marks were beginning to become permanent but Powerent just saw them as notches on his bow, each one a different conquest. They had been walking for perhaps an hour before barely audible voices caught his ear, now they encircled them as the brigades wandered past unawares.

The free world had deteriorated rapidly after Archimage’s rise to power. Outside of the great domes and the city of Lumbridge the laws ended. The Order of the Blue Robe’s protection had been wiped out slowly but surely until patchy respites were all that remained of their protection. There at least life could carry on, in some sense, normally. Small communities, mainly clans which had been on long hunts or farmers, had huddled together at these way stations. With what little magic they pooled together makeshift barricades and homes. The initial lawlessness was giving way to a new order. The damage gave the world an apocalyptic feel. The browning sky had all but blotted out the sun, and that meant that it was only a matter before the plant life was completely destroyed. The domed cities of course did not have the brown sky looming over them, around them was a halo of fertile soil which had formed farming communities. From this thin band, food was exported across the free world by the brigades, traded wherever it could be for metal and coal. Invariably other communities had sprung up to provide the metal and coal. These communities were not protected by magic, they were protected by each other. That didn’t stop rival groups trying to destroy each other. Alliances were formed and umbrella communities had formed. All that in a matter of weeks. It had moved on now though. There were people who didn’t fit in, who were surplus to requirement or who simply couldn’t be supported. They formed the brigades which now passed around Powerent and Whiskers.

“Did you hear what happened to the Barbarian confederacy?”

“Yeah, didn’t Archimage wipe them out? Came in on a massive dragon with three heads didn’t he?”

“No, I mean the new confederacy. They raged an attack on the FN District.”

“Those £$£”in Barbarians! Don’t they know that they supply most of the food for their area!”

“That’s the thing though, the new confederacy isn’t recognised by the FN, they just keep the food that used to go to the old one and trade it. Its disgusting that they can get away with something like that, I mean we should all be working together” A roar of laughter followed. “We should swing by there, see what’s left, might want to hire some extra protection there”

There was a new voice, it was young, adolescent definitely. Probably a slave or something. “You filthy T£$”ers don’t you understand that…” his voice was quickly stifled as the group stopped moving. The sound of a sword being unsheathed followed.

“He didn’t mean it gov, honest he didn’t” It was another voice, this was slightly older, Powerent placed it about sixteen maybe. “It’s the sky, its getting to him is all. Just give him a flogging, be right as rain after that” The voice was half filled with desperation, half with regret of having said anything.

There was a growl, the crowd was getting ready to attack both of them, give them both a good flogging, probably more than a good flogging, probably beat them to death. There was going to be no kindly commander coming to their rescue. They were for it, they knew it and Whiskers knew it. It was when Powerent reached for his arm that Whiskers hung his head. The young boy screamed once, the older one tried to run. The younger one was quietened quickly, a tarnished hilt quickly rendering his jaw from his skull. The impact should have torn his head from his torso but it did not. Instead the boy was kept conscious for just a few seconds longer. Then another blow ended his agony. The older boy was not quiet so lucky. The thud told Powerent that an arrow had pierced hamstrings. He took at headfirst drive into the dirt, his hands tied together acted pathetically as a break.

“Bring him back here” someone said almost lazily. Three sets of feet scampered off to fetch him, the other slaves Whiskers thought silently. Powerent envied Whiskers for not being able to hear the pleas that the boy gave to his fellows. He couldn’t stand so they began to drag him. “Don’t help him! He must walk back here on his own” Though the upturned cart they were hiding under Powerent imagined the look of desperation on their faces as they were forced to make him walk back, one of their fellows. Whiskers simply imagined them thanking Saradomin it wasn’t them. Then there was the bone snapping. His knee by the sound of it, only one….probably the still good leg. “Hold him still!” The sound of a hammer drove down, though the weakened flesh on his ankle, crushing the bones inside. There was a round of laughter as the boy tried to scream, but the apple in his mouth prevented it. It was not designed to cause them to suffocate, as they tried to hyperventilate they would be unable to, at the same time the would be unable to breath entirely though their nose. It might cause them to lose consciousness but mostly it just increased the torture. There was another thud as the other ankle was crushed. Powerent clenched Whiskers arm, who simply closed his eyes. There was more laughter as the boy was released. His hands clutching at his ankles as though to numb the pain. The laughter intensified as he was wrenched up by the hair and thrown back into the food cart. His arms grasping on the spokes. “You there, tie him there” The voice carried another roar of laughter as the slave moved to carry out his orders. Powerent listened for a ‘sorry’, for a something that showed comradary. There was nothing. “Your getting a free ride boy, tomorrow you will not be so lucky.”

With that the troop set off again. The boy clutching the ropes that bound him, feeling them slowly constrict more and more, biting painfully into his flesh as his body refused to let him stand. The spokes were cast iron, they had been moulded as a solid wheel. His bones would break before they did. That was what hit him, knowing that it was inevitable that his hands would be broken if he didn’t act. His feet, legs and knees, spiked in pain as he attempted to counter-rotate his body, only to find that could only delay it. The sound surrounded Powerent as the cart got further and further away. He hated that Whiskers had done this. Prevented him from helping. Whiskers next to him simply closed his eyes and thought.

As Powerent lost the faint sound of the boy’s feet churning the ground he signalled to Whiskers. They had been under the cart for well over two hours. Whiskers emerged to be greeted by the same brown sky that had been there before, the same trees and the same road. The only difference was the two hunks of meat lying there. The boy’s body, and his jaw. Whiskers felt he should say a short prayer, but Powerent sunk into his side. His head resting on his shoulder sobbing quietly. For all his aggression he was a romantic first and for most, Whiskers just hoped this would end that chapter, Powerent needed to deal with this world as it was, not how it had been. Whiskers left him standing there as he collected the body and jaw, placing them under the cart, the closest thing they had to a burial site. Powerent tried to protest but Whiskers just carried on. Hw knew that Powerent would understand eventually. He placed his arm around his shoulder, hugging him, trying to comfort him. But Powerent just turned away, walking in slow unsteady steps along the road. Whiskers simply followed, there was little else he could do.

The BlueJay Chronicles Part XIV
Times New Roman Numerals Inc.

“I brought the boy sir.” The voice wasn’t quite level, a slight tremor of fear slipped though.

“Good. Well Kyle. How are you?”

Through clenched teeth the response came “I have been better sir. As has my brother.”

“Ahh spirit, that will make this easier. Now then, the reason you have been brought here is that you are an infidel and…three two one…Bluejay you there, of course you are. Well this is doubtlessly disorientating for you so allow me to fill you in. You are going through a repressed memory relapse, brought on by the extreme stress that comes from three auras inhabiting the same structure. What has just happened is very simple. Kam has died, but because he had a twin aura he could not ‘ascend’ instead he was sent to the Hall of Forever. Someone pulled on your aura and since you are partly connected to both Kam’s and Kyle’s here, since you thrust the Scimitar from one into the other. Ahh yes you remember now don’t you. Good. Well you have a choice now, in a moment you will wake up and you will find that there are three competing aura’s for your body. One will be your own. You should probably accept that one. The next will be Smoking Eagle Number Forty Four’s the guard you killed…the one whose aura you stole. The last one will be Kam’s, he managed to fight off the other attacker…I knew he had something good inside him. “A short lived lament flashed over Archimage’s face. “But as I was saying you will be able to accept only one other aura….You need to be punished accordingly. I sentence you to spend two years in the sewers under Varrock, maybe after that you will be a bit more co-operative.” Kyle turned to go, handled roughly by Smoking Eagle. “Oh and crush his heels, don’t want to put the rats in too much danger.”

There was a blinding sense of pain as the vision turned into swirling neon like lights. Then there was two people standing in front of him. One was Kam, the other…he recognized him only because he knew who it should be. “Kam! You ok?”

“Not really, no.” A smile broke across his face.

“What about you?” BlueJay turned to the other figure.”

He stood without acting, his stare burrowing into BlueJay’s retinas. “Oi he asked you a question you b#$$#%d, answer him now!”

He turned to Kam. “Why? There is no competition here. He will chose you and I will move on. Just get on with it, your master will have told you what to do.”

“ARCHIMAGE ISN’T ANYONE’S MASTER!”

“You simply don’t know it yet.” The voice was mind chillingly cold.

“Whatever. Look I chose Kam, just get the hell out of here.”

A smile broke onto Eagle’s face. “Good boy.”

Purple spears of light erupted behind BlueJay’s eyes, exploding through his arm as he tried to cover them.

Kam watched from behind this Purple maelstrom. He felt his life being ripped from him, each detail, memory and feeling laid bare in front of BlueJay. He blinked as the lances changed into a scene from outside. He was staring down at the side of the road, then moving, he felt the pressure of the ground on his hands. It was unnerving as the forces applied themselves without any sort of physical change. The great view port showed more images, nothing really significant, there was a caravan, with a massive rip though the canvas layer. There was some movement inside but nothing clear. It shifted again, there was a man. He was wearing a brownish sort of robe…he was a monk or, OH S$#%!!!!!

BlueJay felt the wind lift him into the air and then crash him down again. The ground rocked up through him, doubling the pain instantly. His instincts tried to take over, but something was stopping them. BlueJay suddenly felt very exposed. F$#% F%$# F$#%. He tried to focus on what to do when another bolt of wind slammed into his side. F$#% again. Something inside him started to take over, telling him to dive for cover. Suddenly it seemed so clear what he was supposed to do, how could he not of remember? The cold thin branch splintered as it threaded itself though his femur, spreading the tiny shards throughout the muscle. OH F#%$dilly F$#% F$#%$. His arm came up without thought as he swore to no one in particular, in his hand where five runes. They sprung into deadly fire, leaping from him towards the robed figure. He felt his other hand coming up with more runes, they began to dissolve in his hand, spreading a sticky mesh over him. It was a shielding charm, but that was all he knew about it, but if it protected him. His other hand had returned and was grabbing more runes, teleportation runes…the transport network had been all but destroyed what the hell was this force thinking! Purple flashed around him in tiny orbs. They dived into him, ripping tiny parts of him as they went. Down on ground he caught sight for less than a split second his body. Then he was there. His arm was already reacting as he hurled another bolt of fire at the figure. They swayed as the first bolt connected with him, the fire taking hold of the robes, leaving on a thin mesh of red. It was another shield charm. His hand was again moving, this time some to pull the branch from his leg that had transported with them. He felt the pieces breaking off as it came though the narrow gap. The tree exploded out of its roots as a wind bolt slammed where he had just been, it sailed about a foot before it simply gave into the pressure and exploded outwards. The chips and dust covered the battleground, making it impossible to see. His hand felt the runes dissolving again, a gust of wind erupted from his skin, ripping out into the cloud. There was little impact overall but it was clear that the other person had fled.

“Ok who the hell are you!” Kam shouted as the odd man threw his arms about wildly.

“Harib...” He said between gestures “Please give me a moment.”

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  • Member Title You can't direct the wind
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    Well the my interests are, that is to say my general interests, not to exaustively list them, but when they are written, in the fullness of time, if I had to give a straight answer, then I shall say that, as far as I can see, looking at it by and large, taking one thing with another in terms of the average feelings, in the final analysis it is probably true to say, that at the end of the day, in general terms, you would probably find that, not to put too fine a point on it, there probably wasn't very much in it one way or the other. As far as one can see, at this stage.

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