*EDIT* Here's a message from Dani:


Curse of Zamorak: Book one, the Felowship

(character application)
Name: Kilik
Approximate Age: 16-18
Appearance: Flat brown hair, almost reaches eyes. Dark Brownish eyes, about 5"11 in height.
Other: Uses dual blades, has little armor and instead has speed over defense, and offense above all.

Thanks! I'll add the character to my database for this story.
Now, I will submit my first character.

Name: Jarn
Approximate age: 38
Appearance: tanned white skin, very small brown hair with a beard, brown eyes. Is broad-shouldered yet not too tall.
Other: He gave up adventuring many years ago, when he was in his twenties after he met a beautiful elf woman but was banned from marrying her. He weilded a huge, granite maul, and raced against the mourners to discover Zamorak's body's location. He killed Iban, the 'son' of Zamorak, in the process, and revealed the truth about west Ardougne. After Zamorak's Spirit and Will were returned to his body, Jarn fled to Falador, where he fought in the gruesome Siege of Falador. He then retired to the quiet life of a lumberjack in Lumbridge.

Anyone else?

Name:Bob
Approximate age:950 (immortal, see other for reason why)
Appearance:White hair, blue stick/staff for magic, old manish look
Other:history:fought zamorak in person and lived to tell the tale, god:saradomin, weapon:blue staff/stick for magic; good with the ancient magics, has an obsession with frogs and speaks their language, was cursed by guthix because he dared to take on a god, but saradomin saved him from dieing/turned him immortal because he took on zamorak on his own with only a staff and some runes

There are two reasons I can't accept your character: his name isn't very... fantasy-ish, and his appeal seems to be, at least to me, too light-hearted. This is going to be a drama, you know, so I'll accept your character when you change those things.

I changed the name. Hopefully I can get some publicity soon.

Name:Limoth
Approximate age:950 (immortal, see other for reason why)
Appearance:White hair, blue stick/staff for magic, old manish look
Other:history:fought zamorak in person and lived to tell the tale, god:saradomin, weapon:blue staff/stick for magic; good with the ancient magics, has an obsession with frogs and speaks their language, was cursed by guthix because he dared to take on a god, but saradomin saved him from dieing/turned him immortal because he took on zamorak on his own with only a staff and some runes

i changed the name, but what do you mean about the appeal?

I just meant that he souded too comedic for this story. But now you fixed it. Accepted.

EDIT: New character.

Name: Leinthron
Approximate age: 16
Appearance: has short, blonde hair, and blue eyes. Is moderately tall for his age.
Other: Is young and brave. Has a fine suit of steel armour and an excellently crafted mithril sword. After hearing the tale of the mourners, he wishes to fight against the Zamorakian onslaught as the Barrows Brothers of old did three ages past. Wears fine armour that he used half of his inheritance from his deceased father to pay for. Values honor, loyalty, and strength. Tries to be independent.

yay!

Name: Claer (the a should have an umlaut[the two little dots] above it if you can)
Approximate age: 38
Appearance:carries a black cat around; long, black hair; always has a few vials with her and a bag with potion ingredients
Other:worships Zamorax who ave her her witch powers, she uses poisions like an assassin, secret admirer of Jarn

EDIT: added something*

Accepted.

I've added the prologue. Now come on people, don't be shy! Post, please

i really like the prolouge so far!

10/10 so far, lets hope it stays that way

I like the prologue keep it coming, I can't wait to read more.

I need one or two more characters before I will release the first chapter. Also, after the first chapter is out, character submissions will be closed. Sorry, but it will just work out better that way.

I'm bored, so I'll give a less descriptive Emanick style review.

Section: Prologue
Language Skills: In the dialog with "yes master," it should be ended with a period, since the next sentence is a new idea. Grasped shouldn't be in past tense, since it conflicts with everything else. When we switch to Jarn, although the sentences are all complete, they don't flow very well. You would be better off with some commas or semi-colons in the right places. The he after the no should be capitalized, considering it was a new statement.
Storyline: I'm not completely sure where this is headed yet. Any story dealing with gods, especially exclusively with Guthix, Saradomin, and Zamorak, have a large chance of becoming terribly cliche, so be careful. Still, it's only a short prologue, so I can't really guess where this is going. If I do leave a review for the next chapter, I'll probably have more to say.
Characters: A bit of Jarn's thoughts remind me of a mistake I made quite a few times. Referring to the Zamorakian's foolishness as 'comic relief' almost makes it feel like you're breaking the 4th wall, like the character knows he's in a story. In the heat of a real battle, I think the most someone could pull off is a quick amused smile before bringing your mind back into the battle, unless a wandering mind is a weakness of Jarn's. And how does he escape so easily? Kazin seems like your basic hated evil character who will end up trying to please Zamorak and probably get killed soon enough. But I'm just guessing
Favorite Character: Jarn, since he's the only character who was kind of developed. It's only the prologue, so I can't ask for much though.
General: Aren't the mourners wearing masks? I thought that would've filtered some of the smell. The amulet of accuracy slightly Mslags, but it's not nearly as bad as the phrase 'full dragon armor.' Dragon armor is ridiculously uncommon, and 'full' seems like an odd way to describe it.

I'm not going to give a number score, partly because I'm lazy, and partly because that is currently LZ's job.

Thank you for reviewing, Syren! Chapter one will be out shortly. But I do have a few points to make.

1) Saradomin, Zamorak, and Guthix aren't the only gods involved. Come time, you will see why, especially in Book II.

2) The amulet of accuracy that Jarn has is one of a kind; there are no others. Why he has possesion of it, you will also find out.

Name: Kensei
Approximate age: 16
Appearance: Spiky but dirty dark blue hair, Hazel eyes and a bit on the scrawny side.
Other: A relative of Ak-Haranu (that samurai dude from port Phasmatys), he wants to be the best swordsman ever so he travels all over runescape challenging other warriors to prove that he's the best. Even though he's young he tries to be a wise person even though he doesn't understand the half the things he saying. He also a very talented swordsman despite his age. He uses two dragon long swords because he says its the only weapons that suits to his style and culture. He doesn't follow any god but does things what does a Guthixian would do, he likes balance stuff out, unwilist to him he follow the footstep of the god of balance guthix
He finds Jarn injured on the streets of Ardougne, he helps him in his quest only the reason to defeat strong Zamorak warriors
Plz accept

Sorry that I'm being a very picky, but there are a few reasons I can't accept your character.

1) Blue hair? Remember, this is medieval fantasy, and even though you can weird hair styles in the game, I won't allow it in the story. Sorry.

2) Two dragon longswords? I'm afraid that's way overpowered, considerin in the story, most warriors have iron or steel armour. (Also, at least in my point of view, there is only one dragon longsowrd in Runescape. I knwo that sounds stupid, just please don't ask.)

3) Jarn was in Ardougne about twenty years before the story actually takes place (there will be flashbacks, however), so Kensei would not have been born. However, the fellowship will go back to Ardougne, but not for a while. Not for a really, really, really long while, so unless you want your character to only appear in flashbacks, his appearance wouldn't be very logical. Sorry.

4) Doesn't Kensei mean something in Japanese/Korean/any other asian language?

As of now, I am not accepting any more characters (Blue hat, you can edit yours.)

o ok no weird hair colors lol and no strong weapons

EDIT
Name: Kensei
Approximate age: 16
Appearance: Spiky but dirty dark black hair, Hazel eyes and a bit on the scrawny side.
Other: A relative of Ak-Haranu (that samurai dude from port Phasmatys), he wants to be the best swordsman ever so he travels all over runescape challenging other warriors to prove that he's the best. Even though he's young he tries to be a wise person even though he doesn't understand the half the things he saying. He also a very talented swordsman despite his age. He uses two STEEL swords . He doesn't follow any god but does things what does a Guthixian would do, he likes balance stuff out, unwilist to him he follow the footstep of the god of balance guthix.
He joins the fellowship in order to fight strong warriors in order to achieve his dream of being a powerful swordsman


And kensei means swords saint in japanese since he's a relative to Ak-Haranu he's has to have an asain name

Okay, accepted. Here's chapter one.

Chapter 1

Jarn walked swiftly through the streets. He knew what he had to do.
"Hey, Jarn!" a familiar voice called. He turned to see Claer, an aquaintance he had met a few weeks ago, when he had first entered the great city of Ardougne.
"Claer?" Jarn sighed. "I'm sorry, but I'm very busy!"
"What's the rush?" Claer said, smiling. Jarn gave a weak smile back.
"It's... nothing. Just business."
"For the king?" Claer asked, still holding her face in a grin. Jarn took a minute took think about a respone, knowing that he was the only Saradominist with the knowledge that King Lathas was a traitor. He would have to tell someone that after he had stopped the mourners.
"Yes... in a manner of speaking..."
Claer looked quizicaly at Jarn, and smiled.
"I'm sure you have a few moments to spare, don't you?"
Jarn thought nervously, then realised how much time he had before twilight, when the mourners could perform their ritual. He nodded. "Just a few minutes!"
"Of course!" Jarn walked through the door, and no sooner had he shut it, a magical force prevented him from movings.
"Jarn, I'm sorry..." Claer said, tears flowing down her cheek. They were not the only ones present. A handful of Zamorakian monks stood around him, pointing and laughing at the great adventurer. He was trapped.
However, Jarn knew that the binding spell would only last a few minutes at the most. When it was over the monks would have hell to pay. As the binding spell broke, he gave a loud cry and rushed at the nearest monk. As soon as he raised his maul to strike, the Zamorakian had pounded his stomach with a wind blast. Lacking oxygen, and slowly blacking out, Jarn tried to killl them. His efforts would take all of his energy he was saving to finish off the mourners. He gave a war-cry the Barbarians had taught him years earlier, knowing full well that it would be a long afternoon for him.

Twelve years later...

Jarn's eyes opened from his mid-afternoon nap as he heard a relentless pounding on the door.
"Come in!" he shouted. The door open, revealing a tall young man with long, golden blonde hair. He was wearing shining silver mail armour and had a sheathed sword swung about his belt.
"What did you do now, Leinthrom?" Jarn asked, sighing.
"I bought this," Leinthrom replied, grinning as he showed off his armour and sword.
"You don't even know how to fight!" Jarn shouted angrily.
"I can learn! You can teach me!"
Jarn clenched his fists. He couldn't believe Leinthrom expected that from him. "My fighting days are over." he said bluntly. A tear rolled down his cheeks. "Leithrom, their is nothing, nothing you can do to stop Zamorak. Just enjoy life here in Lumbridge while you can!"
Leithrom opened his mouth, but couldn't find the words to say. Jarn wad dead serious when he said his fighting days were over, and Leinthrom knew that much. Leithrom exited the door, and no sooner had he done so than he spotted a terrified man running from the nearby woods.
"GOBLINS! THE GOBLINS ARE AT-" a spear hurled from the woods pierced the man's back, and portruded from his chest. Leinthrom's eyes widened with horror. The goblins were near. Very near. He started banging on the door.
"What in the blazes-" Jarn opened the door, and saw the terrified Leinthrom. "Well?"
"Goblins!" A war-cry rang out through the woods, and figures appeared racing towards them through the woods.
"Get inside! Quick!" Jarn grabbed the boy and pulled him inside. The goblins saw that, and immediately the glass windows became shattered by goblin arrows and spears. "I'll be back!" Jarn exclaimed, and he ran into a closet-like room. Leinthrom caught site of a few souvenirs and memorabilla from Jarn's past, including a series of amulets and pendants, a collection of papers. Suddenly, Jarn burst out of the room, weilding a giant maul. Instead of a metal hammer at the end, it was fine, white granite. "I'm going outside to face them. Hide somehwere in the house, and don't come out until I come to get you. Understood?"
Leinthrom nodded. He longed to be in the heat of combat, where Jarn was going, but he knew he would more than likely get killed if he took a step outside the door. He jumped under a sofa, and hid. Jarn looked at him, and saw he was safe from the missiles being projected from the windows. He prayed to Saradomin that they wouldn't torch his house, containing his livelihood, and, most important to him, his variety of artifacts he spent three years gathering from around the lands. He took a deep breath, and opened the door.
"Human! Get him!" a goblin cried, grinning menacingly. He spoke with some dignity, at least for a goblin, so Jarn immediately recognized him as a captain. He made a mental note that he had to kill him soon. He didn't like chaos to begin with, but he hated the goblin leaders trying to organize the discord. It simply disgusted him.
A goblin gave out a shriek as it raced towards Jarn. He replied by impaling the maul into the goblin's skull. The corpse fell to the ground, but more goblins stood to take the fallen one's place. A wave of arrows and javelins were hurled at Jarn. A few of the missiles pierced his weapon, while the others missed and bounced off of the ground. Jarn swung his granitic weapon at the creatures, and knocked about five of them to the ground. He knew that they wouldn't be able to fight again, as he probably broke have the bones in their body with his great swing. He then withdrew his maul, and released a giant uppercut, causing the goblin captain to be hurled into the air for several yards. He let out a war-cry the barbarians had taught him years earlier, causing several goblins to run away. Jarn glanced to his left, and saw that the town guard had come from the aged Duke Horacio's castle to fight the hordes.
Jarn continued picking off the goblin numbers, until they started to form a circle. The one's on the outer edge of the circle were eagerly fighting off the town guard, while a veteran hobgoblin-identified by his war-scarred face and torn up, huge hobgoblin armour. The hobgoblin gave out a shriek, answered by the goblin's own screeching cheers. The veteran weilded a large flail-probably made from bronze or iron. Jarn knew that goblin's never were known for their skill in smelting and crafting weapons.
Suddenly, the hobgoblin swung at Jarn. He easily parried the blow with the hammer-side of his maul. He then gave a powerful thrust and knocked the creature to the ground. He smashed the ground next to him, but only caught his right arm. The limb was probably broken permenantly, but he used his left instead and swung the flail at Jarn, wrapping around the maul's bar that he weilded it from. He used the opportunity to yank the weapon from his hands, and finished the veteran off with a crushing blow down the front of his face and chest.
The goblins were angered by their hero's defeat, and then they noticed that the town guard has managed to kill off a large number of unexpecting goblins. Terrified, the monsters ran back into the woods, leaving their dead and wounded behind.
"How many casualties?" Jarn asked the guard's commander. "On our side," he added quickly.
"None that I know of," the captain replied, "but probably a handful. There are several farms in that direction." He pointed his sword at the direction the goblins came and fled from. Jarn nodded.
"Right. My home got. Is their any way that the duke can pay for the town's repairs?"
"I doubt it. He's bankrupt enough as it is, especially from paying those mercenaries to guard the town."
"What?" Jarn inquired. "I thought that was your job?"
"Hardly. We're mainly used as escorts now, since Duke Horacio found that our armour was too expensive to provide. He pays the mercenaries to guard the western border from goblins, but I really think he's afraid of-"
"Zamorakians," Jarn said, and nodded. "Well, 'bye!"
The guard nodded, and Jarn walked back into his damaged house.
"Leinthrom, you can come out now."
The boy eagerly crawled out from under the sofa. "Did you get them?"
"Not all of them, but they won't be back any time soon." Jarn looked around at his house. The goblins had hacked at the back side of his house, causing roughly a fourth of his home's room to collapse. He sighed.
"I might as well build a new house."
Leinthrom's eyes widened, and a slight grin appeared on his face. Before he could say a word, Jarn put a hand up, motioning for the boy to not say a word.
"I'll go with you, Leithrom, but you'll have to provide for yourself."
Leinthrom nodded. "I will. I have plenty of money to-"
"Money?" Jarn laughed. "It will be useless as an adventurer. I learned that much twenty years ago. The bank industry is pretty much gone now, as well.
"I can teach you the basics of survivng in the wild, but you'll have to be an avid learner. Do you understand?" Jarn asked.
Leinthrom nodded with a huge smile. "I'll do anything you say."
"Good."

O now I remember u from a certain forum.... I'm phoenixmage and I read your continuation of knarl's story

I see you still doin stories.....

Nice chapter so far Like how you start off with a master-student relationship

PHEONIXMAGE! HOW ARE YOU DOING? Enjoying Sal's Realm? Man it's been a long time since we talked last. Yes, I did the continuation of Knarlinator's Story on Runescapecommunity. I'm glad you remember me.

Wow, no offense to anyone, but I NEVER thought anyone that played Runescape could actually write as well as you do. I really like it so far.

Thanks, man. It means alot.

nice...
i liked the dream sequesce thing, if that is want t is...
*claps*

Thank you. Chapter 2 will be out shortly.

can't wait

name:tazquin
age:27
appearence:tall, green eyes,brown hair cut like romeo's
other:hes a bounty hunter with a dark bow he enjoys watching people suffer rather then killing him right away,he is loyal to his employer

I did say no more applications, but accepted. The only thing is, I'll have to change the bow type. Crystal bows are reserved for elves. Sorry.

Here's the third instalment.

Chapter 2

"You cannot stay here, adventurer!" the elf king, Lord Ralthinian, the heir to the throne of Baxtorian himself, pointed at Jarn with disgust.
"Why?" the adventurer asked. "What wrongs have I done!"
"You have done every wrong!" he shouted. "You cannot marry Jenara, my daughter! I forbid that, yet you continue to love her!"
"Why is it up to you to decide whom I love?" Jarn questioned him once more. An elf guard approached him and gave him a back-handed, iron-gloved slap across the face, tearing at his cheek. Jarn fell to the ground, his face stinging with pain.
"You will address the King with respect!" The guard spat right next to Jarn, who gave a high-pitched moan.
"Get out of my kingdom!" Ralthinian ordered. "Jenara cannot marry you! It is against the law of man, elf, and gods!"
Jarn said nothing, and he simply stood up. He reached in his pouch, and clutched two runes he thought were of law, and another two he made out to be air runes.
"How would you know the law of the gods?" Jarn smiled menacingly, knowing he had stumped the elf king.
"Kill him!" Ralthinian ordered, and pointed at the adventurer. Over a dozen elf guards rushed at him, each aiming their spears at his chest or head. A split-second before Jarn could use his runes to teleport back to the safety of Ardougne, he caught site of Jenara running to him in the distance. She was sobbing, and begging mercy for Jarn, her lover. A tear rolled down the adventurer's right cheek, mixing with the blood from where the guard slapped him. There was a small moment of a stinging sensation, and right before the guards could kill Jarn, he teleported off in a blue haze.

Jarn awoke from his slumber. At first, he wondered why he was out in the wilderness, and then it came back to him: the goblin raid, and all the events that occured during the previous day. He got up, then glanced over at where Leinthrom had fallen asleep. The boy wasn't there.
"Leithrom!" he shouted. The blonde haired boy came running from the woods. "What were you doing?"
"I was exploring!" Leithrom exclaimed between panting breaths.
"There isn't much to explore around Lumbridge," Jarn replied. "We're only a dozen or so miles away from the town."
"So, have you decided where we'll be going?"
"Ghost town," Jarn yawned, and stretched out his arms. They, unlike the rest of his body, were still strong as ever.
"Edgeville?"
"Yes, Edgeville..." Jarn replied.
"But isn't that we're the... you know... outlaws reside?"
"Yes," Jarn answered. "But it's not as roudy as you think. Ever since Falador was overrun by Zamorak, they've tightened security."
"How many towns are between us and Edgeville?"
"A couple."
Leithrom thought back to his geography lessons his father had taught him. It must have been eight years ago since his last lesson, the day his father was murdered. "Draynor, and the Barbarian Village?"
"Very good," Jarn responded. He began packing up his belongings.
"How long will it take?" Leithrom asked.
"Well, to get to Draynor, it shouldn't be more than a day from here. We'll probably have to travel well into the night, though. If we sleep, we'll be ambushed by bandits who live in these woods."
"How far from their to Barbarian Village?"
"Two days, but there will be farmers that will offer us shelter," the adventurer said. "From there to Edgeville, just over half a day's walk from my knowledge."
"Sounds good," Leithrom said enthusiasticly.
"Right," Jarn added with sarcasm. "Get your stuff. We need to get going."

They then gathered their belongings, and set out to Draynor Village. Along the way, they caught site of several giant spiders, each one afraid of them, and about a half dozen scared-to-death goblins. By dusk, Leithrom had traveled farther away from Lumbridge than he ever had.
"How far from Draynor are we?" Leithrom asked.
"Several miles. We should get there in the hour," Jarn responded. The young man nodded.
"What's Draynor like?" he asked.
"It's a good sized town, about the same size as Lumbridge. The people there are protected by the Humans Against Monsters organization, known as HAM," Jarn said with a hint of disgust, "so we should be safe from goblins there."
"You sound like you don't like the HAM organization?" Leithrom said. It was half a statement, and half a question.
"They've done some..." Jarn thought for a moment, searching for the right words to say, "...bad things. In my eyes, they are people you should avoid."
Leithrom nodded, still not fully understanding what he meant, even though he knew it was important. After over an hour of walking, they made it to Draynor. The town was different than Jarn remembered it. Instead of just a simple fence on once side, and grazing hills on the other, the town was surrounded by a thick, palisade wall, made from the trunks of trees. They walked around it, searching for an entrace. It wasn't long before they came to a large gate.
"Who goes there at such a late hour?" a watchman asked.
"I am Jarn, and this is my friend, Leithrom. We seek shelter for the night."
"Just for the night?" the watchman questioned once more.
"We came from Lumbridge early yesterday, and we are traveling to Edgeville."
The large doors were unbolted, and they opened slow and steadily. The watchman who was questioning them stood in the middle of the road.
"Edgeville's in turmoil, or so I here," he said. "Anyway, you can stay here for the night. May Saradomin bless you."
Jarn returned the greeting, and then the two continued to walk on.
"What do you think he meant when he said Edgeville was in turmoil?"
"I don't know, but keep your mouth shut about it, understand?" he looked at the boy, who nodded in return.
"I understand."
"Good, now let's go find the inn."
"I think that's it right there," Leithrom pointed at a large, stone, two-story building, the southern-most building in Draynor.
"That can't be it," Jarn said, remembering years earlier when he had traveled there. "That's the bank. What does that sign say?"
"The Fish'n Farming Inn," Leithrom read the post above the doorway. "That's a strange name."
"Indeed," Jarn said, "but it sounds like an inn. Let's go."

All right chapter but Lord Ralthinian isn't the king of the elves I think just the commander of the evlen army (last I check)

Lol, I just made up Lord Ralthinian at the spur of the moment. I had no idea anyone had a similiar name in the game actually.

And your guy will come in around chapter five.

Ya the bad guy elf I think from rencide I think

Lol! Incredible coincidence!

great but u should describe the future battles a bit more but it has more of story then battle which is good (well to a limit) and u should've said hear instead of here on line 22 of paragraph 3. and u should describe whats happening on zamoraks side while all this is happening

Thanks for showing me my mistake. And more or less, I'm sure the readers will be able to tell what's going on with the Zamorakian side without me directly telling them. Anyway, chapter three will be out shortly.

can't wait

Here is chapter three.

Chapter 3

The scout returned back to Zamorak's tomb, panting. Zamorak had just transformed his disfigured, zombie-like flesh to be that of a red-masked, ferocious warrior weilding a small staff with held his sacred emblem upon its tip. The man fell to his knees when he saw the chaos god.
"Lord Zamorak!" he cried. "I have not found the adventurer. Please forgive me!"
With disgust, the god cast a spell, and immediately afterwards, Zamorak's unholy flames erupted around the scout. His red robes burned fastest. Zamorak grimaced with disgust at the man, who screamed with horrible agony as his body was burned alive. Within a minute, only a pire of glowing, red hot coals, surrounded by ash, was left.
"Your scout failed to bring the adventurer to me, Kazin!" Zamorak exclaimed, turning to the head mourner.
"Master! Please, spare me!" He fell on his knees, tears of fear running down his cheeks. "If you must kill me, do it fast, my lord!"
"I will not kill you..." Zamorak said with disgust. He remembered millenia when his former master, Zaros, had punished Thammaron, his former lieutenant, back in Frenesake. A cold laugh echoed through the chaos god's mask.
"You will not, my lord?" Kazin asked, a hint of joy in his voice.
"No..." Zamorak pointed his staff at Kazin, and immediately his body was lifted off the ground. The onlooking mourneres, monks and mages were horrified by what they saw. The head mourner's levitating body appeared to be mutating. His flesh turned a dark grey, and Zamorak let out another chuckle of amusement. His master, Zaros, had punished Thammaron because he thought it must have been done to show his power, but Zamorak did so for mere amusement. Kazin also grew, over twice his size, his body resembling that of an ogre, his shape becoming a hunched, crooked figure. After a few moments of pure horror, the head mourner's living corpse fell to the ground. His strange forum was about as large as one of the ancient orks that served Bandos in the great godwars. His dark-grey skin was steaming strangely, and he was foaming at the mouth. Zamorak turned to the other mourners. With horror, one of the smaller of their kind was scorched alive by Zamorak's flames. Frozen with fear, the rest stayed still. Another was then burned to the ground, and another... all of them the youngest and smallest.
"There," Zamorak held his hand back. Only the large and strong would survive anyway. "Kazin, arise!"
The deformed figure of Kazin stood up, shaking with agony. "What are your orders, master?" The mourners, monks, and mages were all shocked that he had the strength to say anything.
"As a reward for freeing me, you all will be the head warriors in my quest to conquer this realm. You will be the leader amongst them. I not only tortured you into this form, but I gave you strength above all others. Your power is matched by no man, beast, or demon in the world."
Kazin was confused. His entire body was aching, scorched, and mutated from the torcher. But Zamorak was right... he was stronger... much stronger.
"Thank you, my lord!"

The Fish'n Farming was indeed an inn. Since Falador was taken over by the Zamorakians, the banking industry collapsed, leaving the Bank of Varrock the sole depository enterprise in the world. It mainly served as only a shrewd, tiny memory of what the business once was. It controlled only two banks located in Varrock, and had a small branch located in Edgeville as well. That was as far as it went, as there was nowhere else to go. Al Kharid was far too rebelious, and required guards, which the Bank of Varrock, with its lessening profits, could not dream to do. Draynor was far too close to Zamorakian territory, and Lumbridge was subject to frequent raids.
Yet it was not always so. Two decades earlier, the bank had dozens of branches scattered across the world, and was acknowledged as the Bank of Runescape. An adventurer who was in Ardougne could simply show a document to any branch located in the city, and access his items that he deposited in far-off Varrock. Jarn sighed as he thought about the chaos and the discord the world was in now. If only he had succeeded... if only he knew Claer's intentions all along... if only...
"Jarn!" Leithrom shouted, grinning as he usually did, his bags ready on his back. He was wearing his armour again.
"Leithrom!" Jarn scolded. "Are you asking to be robbed, or better yet, murdered?"
"No..." Leithrom said.
"Then get that armour off! Don't you have any normal clothes?"
Leithrom stubbornly took off his steel, highly valuable armour.
"Leithrom," Jarn sighed. "I'm glad you were ready so early, but you're going to have to use your head! This isn't Lumbridge anymore!"
There was an awkward silence. "Jarn?"
"Hmm?"
"How come Runescape is like this?" Leithrom asked him.
"It's because..." Jarn began, pain filling his mind. He took a deep breath. "Well... let me begin. About sixteen years ago-about the time you were born-there was an adventurer. He was a great quester, doing tasks and other missions to help the king, the kingdom, and, most importantly, the common people."
"What did he do?" Leithrom questioned him.
"I was just getting to that," Jarn muttered, unusually patient. "Well, as you may have known, Ardougne was divided in two. The eastern half followed King Lathas, while the western half was under the harsh rule of King Tyras, who caused the plague. King Lathas sent in a group of people known as the mourners, who all bravely volunteered to 'treat' and 'care for' plague victims. He also sent in the adventurer to help them. After a series of daring tasks, including braving a terrifying pass under mountains that were otherwise unpassable, killing King Tyras, and discovering a hidden temple, which held the ability to craft runes. So-"
"Craft runes?" Leithrom asked. "No, you must be kidding me!"
"No," Jarn said. "Anyway, the adventurer discovered what the mourners were really up to: they were trying to release Zamorak!"
Leithrom gasped. Jarn continued with his story.
"Well, the king instructed him to stop them, but he failed. The end."
Leithrom nodded in understandment. The two continued on north. Their journey wasn't as difficult as Leithrom had expected. Based on what Jarn said about traveling, Leithrom had thought they would have to be incredibly tough to survive, but it wasn't that bad. When they got hungry in the afternoon, they simply killed a pair of hairs they saw. By the time evening came, they had reached a small farm.
"Wait here," Jarn instructed. "I'm going to ask the farmer if he'll let us stay in his barn for a night."
Leithrom nodded. Jarn approached the home, and a woman answered. He went inside, and stayed there for a few minutes. Then he came out.
"Leithrom, we can stay here!" he shouted. The boy immediately gathered his belongings and hurried to the barn, closely following Jarn. When they were all settled in and about to fall asleep, Jarn stated, "The woman who lives here is a widower. It must be very hard to manage this farm by herself."
Leithrom ignored him as he fell asleep.

A loud screaming pierced Leithrom's ears. His eyes shot open, and he turned. The house was on fire, and a hordge of angry goblins' war cries were ringing through the air.
"Jarn!" he shouted. The aging adventurer's eyes opened, at first as slits, then wide as he saw the fire.
"Come on, we need to get out of here!" he grabbed his bag and they both started running. A trio of goblin archers caught site of them, and opened fire with their bows. However, do to the goblins' excitement, each one of the arrows missed their targets. Then, the goblins started running. Jarn and Leithrom didn't know why, but the answer came within a few moments. Over a dozen pink-robed men, armed with wooden shields and dull, iron swords, were fiercely attacking the goblin hordes. They caught site of the two, and immediately ran up to them.
"Who goes there?" one of the pink-robed men shouted. Jarn identified them as members of the HAM cult.
"I'm Jarn, and this is Leithrom. We are traveling to Edgeville from Lumbridge."
"Why were you here?" He demanded. "Speak quickly! We have work to do!" He motioned with his rose-colored hood to the fleeing goblins.
"The lady who lived us offered us shelter," Jarn replied. "We have a long journey ahead of us."
"Well, we don't appear to have anything better to do," the man said. "We've been driving these goblins from the swamps. We finally managed to catch up with them here."
Driving? Jarn thought with disgust. Like driving cattle to the slaughter...
"We'll escort you to just north of Draynor Manor. From their, you should be able to easily make it to Barbarian Village."
"Thank you," Jarn said. Leithrom was grinning wildly, wondering what an escort would be like, but Jarn kept his lips sealed, with no hint of satisfaction on his face.

Another hard journey was in store for them that day. The escort didn't make them any faster. In fact, it seemed to slow down their progress by a bit. They had no conversation, and nobody talked to eachother for hours at a time.
"So," one of the HAM members asked, breaking the uneasy silence, "you are going to Edgeville?"
"Yes," Jarn nodded. "I have... family there, and my home-" he glanced nervously at Leithrom, "-as well as his, was destroyed. We seek shelter."
"Edgeville isn't the best place to be going right now," another cult member broke in. "I've heard that there's a farmers rebellion going on up there."
"A rebellion?" Leithrom asked. What he said wasn't anything foolish, so Jarn didn't mind.
"There's high taxes up their," the man said, "so the farmers got angry. They don't like that governor they have up there telling them what to do."
"I see..." Jarn said. As the group passed Draynor Manor, an eerie chill went down all of their spines. The place had been unihabited for years. It's former occupant, a ferocious vampire from Morytania, had been slayed by a traveling adventurer. However, once in a while, a person would try and move in, but would be either driven out, or never seen again. However, that was not was scarred Jarn. Was frightened him was the fact that he could see villages off in the distance, far into the west. He knew that those villages lied dangerously close to Falador, and were probably uninhabited since Falador was lost in a gruesome battle against the Zamorakians.
"Here you are," one of the HAM members said. "We're going to have to leave you here. Good luck dealing with the barbarians." With that, the cult members all turned around and went back south. Jarn sighed with relief.
"How far are we to Barbarian Village?" Leithrom asked.
"Very close," Jarn replied. "We should be able to see it from his clearing. It's on a large hill."
And they were able to see it indeed. Smoke was rising from the town's many fireplaces, and it took only a few minutes for the two to get there. They were very much relieved when they did. Two days on the road in that world was incredibly difficult.

nice chapter can't wait for chapter 4 (and 5 )

The next chapters will be he asap.

Lol asap sure...

Sorry, but the fourth chapter won't be out for a few days (probably Sunday, tomorrow). I need some time to finish Age of War first (Don't worry-just one chapter and one epilogue to go).

Okay, here's chapter four. The fifth chapter will be out by next sunday. And please don't be mad at me for making this chapter so short. The next few will be very long, as I have alot to cram into them. Here's the fourth installment.

Chapter 4

Hazeel smiled. He had been rewarded well for his role in resurrecting Zamorak. The chaos god has made him ruler over all lands that bore the flag of the Mahjarrat, the powerful tribe from Freneskae. Several years ago, he had lead the Zamorakians in the gruesome siege of Falador. Along with Kazin, the mutated, demon-like head mourner, they had brought the great city of the White Knights down. Now, Hazeel had his amber eyes fixed upon the last great city under Saradomin: Varrock. He wanted the glorious capitol of Misthalin for over a decade, but ever since Falador fell, it became a fortress, with walls that seemed to touch the clouds, and watch towers that pierced the heavens. Hazeel knew he would have to wait.
"Kazin," Hazeel said, his voice still quite shaky from inactivity for over a century.
"Yes, master?" the mutated figure walked in.
"Do you know how the once mighty Zaros fell?"
"I have heard stories, master," Kazin said through his ever-parched lips. "Almighty Zamorak slew him."
"Do you know how he slew him?" Hazeel asked, grinning.
"He used the Staff of Armadyl, did he not, master?"
"That is exactly what he used," Hazeel said. "The staff contains power... great power. As you are the greatest warrior we have, Zamorak has chosen you to reclaim it."
"Reclaim it?" Kazin inquired, a puzzled look on his grey face. "From where, master?"
"That is not known," Hazeel stated, "but we know it is in Kandarin. Now go, for the glory of Zamorak! Strength through chaos!"
"Strength through chaos," Kazin said, repeating the motto of his god.

"What are ya' doing here?" a barbarian bellowed at Jarn.
That's probably why most people think of them as Barbarians, he thought to himself with amusement. He cleared his throat. "I am Jarn, and this is my companion, Leithrom. We seek shelter, just for the night."
"What makes ya' think we're gonna' offer you that?" the man asked mockingly. Then he took a drink of his beer bottle.
"Nothing," Jarn said, "but we need shelter for the night. We are traveling to Edgeville and we must be there by tomorrow."
"How dare ya' speak to Guntho' the Brave like that!" the barbarian exclaimed, getting even more drunk as his sips of beer become longer and more constant. "I'll tell ya' what, if ya' can beat me in a duel, I'll let you stay in my house, but if ya' lose, I get to kill the two of you!"
Leithrom sighed. The barbarian was clearly not very good at diplomacy.
"Agreed," Jarn smiled. Leithrom's eyes widened.
"What?" he cried. Jarn glanced at him sternly.
"Don't worry."
Leithrom couldn't help it, though. If Jarn lost, they would both die a merciless death to these... barbarians.
"Fight!" Gunthor the barbarian shouted. Jarn started off by swining his maul at his hand. It hit directly on with a loud smacking noise. Before Gunthor could recuperate from the blow, Jarn's weapon smashed upon his face. The duel was over in seconds, and the barbarian men and women had all gathered around their fallen hero, who was screaming with pain, blood flowing from his hand and face.
"Where is his home?" Jarn asked a nearby man. The villager pointed to a small hut in the corner of the town, and Jarn and Leithrom went inside. It was small yet cozy, and had a fireplace. Exhausted, they soon fell fast asleep.

Leithrom awoke the quickest, as usual. His first reaction was to take a walk outside, and he almost did until he remembered they were in Barbarian village. He quickly darted away from the door and waited until Jarn woke up. When he did, the two set out for Edgeville, leaving the rough Barbarian town behind them. Within a few hours of traveling at a fast pace, they finally caught site of the Ghost Town of Edgeville, which earned it's nickname due to a former dungeon that was right beneath the heart of the city.
"Be careful what you say," Jarn warned. "These people, especially the farmers, seemed to be in a depression since Falador fell."
"Why?" Leithrom asked. "What happend here?"
"The Governor of the city has placed a heavy tax on them, demanding payment in full for food, clothes, and armour to pay the town guard with."
"Has their been many goblin raids?"
"No, none at all," Jarn said. "The goblins this far north are scattered, not united in one tribe as the goblins near Lumbridge are. They are much more like animals here than humans."
"I see," Leithrom said. They said nothing more as they approached the town. Before they could enter through the opening in the wall, two guards approached them.
"Halt!" one ordered. "Who goes there in such troubled times?"
"I am Jarn, and this is my companion, Leithrom," Jarn said. "We are travelling here since our homes were destroyed in a goblin raid."
"Well, in that case, you will be happy to learn that we've eradicated the goblin threat this far north," the other guard spoke up, "but we cannot let you pass. There is a rebellion going on in the city, and you will have to wait a few days until we can completely crack down on the farmers."
"The farmers?" Jarn asked. "Why are they in revolt?"
"The high taxes," the guard said. "They simply don't understand it's necesity. If Ghost Town is not protected, the Zamorakians can sweep past us and take Varrock."
"I see..." Jarn sighed. "I am a warrior from Lumbridge. I can aid you in putting down this rebellion."
"It won't help much," the guard said. "It's been going on for a few weeks, and probably won't be over any time soon."
"Nonetheless, I can help."
"What about him?" the guard nodded to Leithrom.
"Is there a place where he can stay?"
"I can fight!" Leithrom exclaimed.
"Not yet!" Jarn shouted.
"There's a refugee camp, just west of here," the guard answered. "He can stay there while you're away."
"Thanks."

The travelled west for half a mile before they caught site of the refugee camp. It was just rows of tents, each containing a starving, poverty-stricken family. A guard approached the two of them.
"What brings you here? More refugees?" the guard questioned them closely.
"No," Jarn replied. "We are travellers, from Lumbridge. I can help put down this rebellion-"
The guard scoffed. Jarn ignored it.
"-but Leithrom, my companion, needs a place to stay."
"I'm sure we can make room for you," the guard said, amused at the thought of Jarn putting down the farmers' revolt.
"Thank you," Jarn said. "Leithrom, be careful." He handed him a small bag. "This has a few days worth of food. But don't worry, I'll be back before then."
Leithrom nodded, and the two were seperated.

OOO I guess my guy is coming up soon

can't wait

Next chapter will be out soon!

Here it is. Chapter five.

Chapter 5

Jarn had just been sent a local page to dress him up with armour. It wasn't anything to brag about, like Leithrom had, but it would do. The only problem he had with it was it's rusty elbows, which made it difficult to bend his arms. He faced the same problem with his knees. A guard burst into the tent.
"Jarn, is it?" the guard inquired. "I've heard about you joining up with us. You've been placed in my division."
"And who might you be?" Jarn asked.
"I'm Captain Kilik," he said. This suprised Jarn, because the guard looked young, probably around twenty.
"Captain? At such a young age?"
"Well, for a few weeks."
"What happend?"
"This rebellion gives room for rapid promotion," Kilik said. "I'm the only captain to serve for over a week without dying or becoming incapable of service."
"Incapable of service?" Jarn questioned him, curious. "What's that suppose to mean."
"It's a term that refers to when a soldier," he took a deep breath, "officers in this case, become unable to perform their duties, whether because of injury or mental instability, or else gone missing."
"It's that bad?" Jarn asked.
Kilik nodded.
"Just to let you know," Jarn stood up. "If the Zamorakians weren't a threat, and if Edgeville didn't need these guards, I would support these farmers in every way."
"I understand," Kilik said. There was a moment of silence. "I also would like to let you know that, because of the governor's recently passed protocol, we are suppose to limit the ammount of casualties inflicted upon these farmers." Jarn was about to ask why, when Kilik added, "They're farmers, and without them, we'll all starve."
"You know, I've been in multiple battles," Jarn stated proudly, "and I have learned that you make your opponents surrender by killing as many of them as you can."
"I was merely stating protocol," the captain said.

"Lay low, men!" Kilik, the captain ordered in a loud whisper. They were less than twenty-five yards from the farmers' camp, and they're mission was the set it ablaze, driving the farmers out of the city center. Jarn couldn't help but stare at the city. He had last visited it a decade ago, and he was marveled at how different, how orderly it had become.
"After this mission is complete," Kilik whispered, "we will blockade the governor's masnion. The farmers have taken refuge in it, and we will be able to starve them out easily."
Suddenly, a farmer, armed with a rusty hatchet in one hand and a wooden shield in the other, stood up.
"There they are, men! Charge!"
From the camp, armed peasants swarmed out in hordes, preparing to attack and kill the guard army. Some of the guards had already begun to desert.
"Stand and fight!" Kilik cried. With a loud clash, the mob of farmers and Edgeville's guard crashed into one another. Jarn unsheathed the iron, ill-kept sword that was given to him just seconds before a farmer rushed upon him, a rusty old blade in hand. He swung aimlessly at Jarn, who easily parried each and every blow. He then knocked the sword from the mans hand, cutting the farmer's wrist in the process. Jarn then gave him a blow to the head, causing him to fall to the ground, unconscious. He sighed.
Keeping them alive is alot harder than killing them... Not allowing the adventurer a moment of rest, another farmer rushed upon him, using both hands to weild a plow. He swung, little more accurate than the last farmer, at Jarn. Fearing his sword would break if he attempted to parry the blows, Jarn began to dodge them, dock, and jump. He could tell that the farmer was exhausting himself. Before he could knock the farmer out, another rushed upon the aging adventurer, this one grasping a large plan with three sharpened nail points sticking out of it. Jarn's arms reacted faster than his brain, and he found his sword buried in the belly of the farmer.
Damn, he thought as the man's corpse fell to the ground. I've killed one...
Jarn couldn't ponder upon his thoughts low, as more and more farmers, dozens, no, hundreds of them, began attacking the guards furiously. Jarn suddenly realised that most of the guards had deserted or died, or else were left howling for mercy on the ground, injured-some with missing limbs.
"RARGH!" Filled with fury and rage, he kicked another farmer down, then, while the man was laying on the ground, stabbed his shoulder with the blade, pushing it into the ground beneath. He howled with agony, his scream percing Jarn's ears like freezing ice.
Then, dodging and ducking every blow aimed at him, Jarn silently retreated to the back of the battle. He then withdrew a law and three air runes which he had kept in his pouch during the raging battle. He telekeneticaly grabbed his large granite maul.
"Jarn! It's no use! Pull back!" Kilik shouted, overwhelmed by half a dozen farmers, including one that appeared to be their leader, who bore a sturdy hatchet and a wooden shield.
"I'm not leaving!" Jarn raised his maul, and smashed it upon one of the farmers, killing him. Right then, Jarn didn't care. He just wanted to fighting to cease. Jarn then noticed that the farmers seemed to fear him, especially with his maul. He gave out a war cry, making himself as ferocious as possible. He didn't even need to kill them any more. All of them ran away, except for their leader, whom they cowered behind. Kilik pointed his sword at the farmers' leader, the one with the hatchet and shield.
"You know you cannot win!" Kilik shouted. "We will overwhelm you! You will all die, and your families will starve because of it."
"Starve?" the leader roared. "Our families starve because of your high taxes!"
"The taxes are in place to protect you!" Kilik replied desperately. "If the Zamorakians come, do you honestly think you can stand up to them? You're armed with pitchforks and knives!"
Jarn knew Kilik was lying. The adventurer had fought with Zamorak's forces in the gruesome Siege of Falador, and he knew that guards didn't stand much more of a chance than the farmers' did.
We're all going to die in the end, Jarn thought pessimisticly.
"Let us end this!" their leader cried, pointing his hatchet at Kilik. "If you kill me, my people will go home, but if I kill you, your taxes will be gone!"
Kilik sighed. He knew he shouldn't accept, but he would look like a coward if he didn't. "I accept your challenge!"
Without a second of hesitation, the leader rushed upon Kilik, who had to jump out of the way. He then took the offensive by directing blow after blow to his attacker. However, the farmer's leader used his shield and sword wisely, and blocked Kilik's sword every time. Then, he lunged his hatchet at Kilik, causing him to become dizzy and lose his balance. The farmer then used his shield to knock Kilik's falling sword several yards away. The captain fell to the ground, and the leader raised his hatchet, and crashed it down upon him. However, thinking fast, Kilik grabbed a nearby fallen guard's sword, and, with all of his might, impaled the blade against the leader's wooden shield. The blow splintered the shield, yet shattered the blade's tip in half. Kilik held onto the broken sword, and he rolled quickly to his right, and picked up his fallen sword which lay on the ground. He then began charging upon the farmers' leader. Desperate, the man threw his hatchet at Kilik. The captain dodged it, and knocked the axe out of the air with the sword his left hand. Then, armed with two blades, he easily decapitated the defenceless leader.
"He's dead!" a farmer in the mob cried.
"Retreat!" another shouted, and they all began pouring into the governor's mansion-their last refuge in the city. The remaining guards, along with Kilik, their captain, and Jarn, gave out a wild cry of victory. Yet their celebration was cut short by a rapidly approaching, fancily-dressed figure, who was escorted by a dozen guards.
"Is that the governor?" Jarn asked Kilik.
"No," Kilik answered. "It's his steward. After every skirmish between us and the farmers, he documents the statistics."
Before anyone could say another work, the steward's strange, high-pitched voice crackled through the air. "Dozens of farmers dead..."
He scribbled down something on a piece of parchment. Then he started counting bodies.
"...seventeen guards..." the steward muttered as he wrote furiously on the paper. "Who's in charge here?" he barked.
"I am," Kilik said, not sure whether to act proud or solemn. "I am Captain Kilik of the Governor's Guard."
"Well, are you aware of what you have caused?" the steward asked.
"Yes, sir," Kilik replied. "A victory for the governor!"
"Hardly that," the steward said. "You have killed a large portion of the farmers. Who then is going to harvest the crops come autumn? Who is to tend for the livestock, of both the governor and the town?"
"Sir," Kilik said, ashamed of his pride earlier. "We had no other choice. It was either kill or be killed."
The steward laughed. "You clearly planned this battle out poorly. By the power vested in me, I hearby take away your rank, salary, and status in the Governor's Guard, and demote you to your rank before this conflict started."
"What?" Kilik exclaimed with rage. "You can't do that!"
"I can!" the steward snickered. "You are now no longer captain."
With that, the governor's steward-along with his escort-departed back to the refugee camp, where his tent was. Kilik fell on his knees and screamed, tears forming in his eyes. Despite the guard army's sympathy for him, they departed, one by one. Within a few mometns, only Jarn was left, starring at Kilik. The former captain stood up, and began walking away, towards the refugee camp.
"Where are you going?" Jarn asked.
"I'm going to find my brother, Tazquin. He in the refugee camp somewhere."
"How old is he?" Jarn asked.
"Twenty-seven," Kilik answered.
"Twenty-seven?" Jarn asked. "I hope you don't mind me asking this, but how come-"
"How come he didn't fight?" Kilik grinned, wiping the tears out of his eyes. "Don't tell anyone this: he's an outlaw. He lived in the wilderness in the north for several months after thieving from the general store. When he came back, he told me that he killed several others while there. He has been trying to keep a low-profile ever since."
"I understand," Jarn said. "Where will you go?"
"Varrock," Kilik turned to look at him. "The only place where there might be an opportunity for a man like me."
"I am traveling with a companion," Jarn explained. "His name is Leithrom. After seeing the state that Edgeville is in now, I suppose we can accompany you two. If you allow it, of course."
"Certainly," Kilik said.

Jarn burst into the tent. Leithrom awoke from his nap.
"What's wrong?" Leithrom asked.
"Nothing," Jarn said. "We're going to Varrock."
"Varrock!" A smile croosed the youth's face. "The greatest city in the world?"
"The greatest city in Misthalin," Jarn scoffed. "Anyway, get your things ready. We're all going to leave tomorrow morning."
"'We're all'?" Leithrom asked curiously. "We have others coming along?"
"Their names are Tazquin and Kilik. I'll tell you about them later, but for now, get ready to go."
Leithrom quietly follwed Jarn's orders, and the two met up with Kilik and Tazquin the next morning. Then they set out for Varrock.

P.S: Emanick made a very important announcement on the last part of his post. Everyone should check it out.

nice chapter a bit quick with the battle though

hey how bout when they first kensei, he would challenge jarn to a duel because he likes challenging strong warriors

I sent you a PM regarding your character. Here's chapter six.

Chapter 6

Limoth smiled as he grabbed the wine of Zamorak. He needed to prove his worth to his hometown of Draynor Village, and if he brought home to powerful fluid of Zamorak, they might respect him more. But the evil god's spirit took offence to the sacrelidge. Suddenly, the chaos god's unholy flames erupted around Limoth, and he screamed as his legs burned with a seering pain. The old man fell to the ground. He then summoned Saradomin's holy power, and a lighting bolt blasted from his staff that he had painstakingly reclaimed years ago, deep in the wilderness.
"Fool!" Zamorak's spirit screamed. "Stop stealing my wine! Gah!"
Then, a terrifying, shadowy figure of the chaos god appeared. He had in his hands a mystical, powerful staff.
"Die, mortal!"
Even more flames erupted around Limoth. He struggled to get free, but he just couldn't. He then realised how foolish he had been. To take on Zamorak, one of the most powerful beings in the world? He closed his eyes, ready to die. Then, suddenly, the flames around him ceased. He still felt the horrible pain from the burns the fire had inflicted upon his flesh. Was he dead? Was this what the afterlife was like? He opened his eyes. No, he was not dead. He was still in the temple, with the corpses of dead monks laying around him. However, the sky outside was dark, and ready to rain. He felt an incredibly eerie sensation. Then, to top it all off, a voice in his head caused him to freeze with fear.
Limoth the voice said. You have dared to take on a god, yet I, Saradomin, have saved you. You will now be granted the gift of living to an incredible old age, to serve as a reminder to all that they should not ever challenge a god.
Frozen with fear, Limoth could not move. He waited their for over a day and a half, until Aiera, his elven apprentice, managed to track him and found him lying there. She then teleported them both to Falador, the nearest city.

Jarn, Leithrom, Kilik and Tazquin continued on their journey quietly. The road to Varrock had started out boring, with only the occasional site of a do in the pastures nearby, or a large bear-a creature that was common in the part of Misthalin. Once, Tazquin, Kilik's older brother who was an outlaw, swore he saw a goblin in a clearing just north of the road, but his younger sibbling corrected him by telling him that all of the goblins in the area were wiped out. The boredome ceased, however, when they came across one of Varrock's outposts. It was a massive, stone watch tower, easily three, maybe four times the size of every tree around. The four each gazed with awe at the construct, and they watched the soldiers at the top look around the edge. When they came to the base of the structure, they saw two guards, one alert and awake, the other half-asleep at his post, standing watch near the small door. Jarn thought it was ironic that such a large tower had such a small door. The four continued on.

"How far to Varrock?" Tazquin asked, yawning. It was the late afternoon, and the group and become worried that they wouldn't reach the gate's in time: the city closed it's doors to travelers very early in the evening.
"Probably another hour," Jarn said.
"I hope we can make it in time," Leithrom said.
"Don't worry," Jarn said. "We will."
"Another tower!" Tazquin exclaimed, pointing to another outpost on the horizon. Then it struck Jarn how late it was.
"We need to go faster!" he shouted, and they all listened. Soon, the monstrous walls of Varrock were in site. Ever since Falador had fallen-a huge leap for the advancing Zamorakians-Varrock had become a super fortress. The walls were raised from two stories to five, and in some place were still going higher. Towers every two-hundred paces on the city walls provided excellent look-outs. They could catch site of an approaching army dozens of miles away, thus giving time to brace the city for an attack. The walls also were made thicker, from ten to fifteen feet across. Also, the bank that was located on the edge of the massive city became surrounded by all wall, and linked to the Grand Exchange, which was run by the Bank of Varrock. Also, stores were knit close together along both sides of almost every road in the city. The palace itself had become a huge citadel. Yet the main source of Varrock's power was her massive army. The city itself contained an overwhelming half a million residents-it's population swelling as people saught refuge behind it's massive walls. With over five thousands guards patroling the city daily, and well over fifteen thousand soldiers, including the legendary Knights of Misthalin, which had been established by a former White Knight who had fled after Falador fell to the Zamorakians. Overall, the city was nearly invincible. Varrock, Leithrom thought, truly deserved to rule Misthalin.

They continued on, looking for a place to stay. Most of the inns were packed to the brim with people who had not found a home in the city. However, Jarn had managed to gain a large room in a big tavern, known as the Jolly Boar Inn.
"You guys can stay here," Jarn said. "I'm going downstairs to get a drink."
Exhausted, Leithrom fell onto one of the four cots set out for them, followed by Kilik and Tazquin.
"So," Tazquin turned to Leithrom, "I've noticed that you have a set of fine steel armour. Planning on doing a little fighting?"
Leithrom nodded. "Jarn and I are going to kill Zamorak, once and for all."
Tazquin burst out in laughter, and Kilik grinned.
"I'm sorry," Tazquin said, gasping for air, "I just can't help it. You, killing Zamorak!" His laughter continued on, this time louder than before.
"It does seem impossible," Kilik said with a chuckle, "but this world is full of the impossible. Have you heard of Arrav?"
Leithrom nodded. Tazquin, wiping the tears of joy from his eyes, said, "Of course."
"He managed to fight Zamorak's greatest warrior, Zemourgel-and trap him-in his dream."
"...and what does that prove?" Tazquin asked, then turned over and fell asleep.
"The impossible," Kilik said with a grin. Not able to find a respons, Tazquin followed suit, and soon all three were in a lazy slumber.

Jarn sat at the table, drinking the Wizard's Mind Bomb. Suddenly, an elderly man, accompanied by a young woman, opened up the doors to the inn. The adventurer watched curiously as they approached the counter where the bartender stood, and asking him for a room. Jarn looked around. People were everywhere, drinking, eating, and laughing. Most of the people were probably drunk. But the place crowded, almong too crowded.
"Mind if we join you?" the lady, standing beside the old man, asked, suprising Jarn.
"Of course not," Jarn said. The woman was wearing a maroon robe, almost like that of the HAM cult. Her hair was flowing and dark, and her eyes were two glistening emeralds. She was beautiful. Her companion, an ancient-looking man with wrinkled skin and bright, white hair, was wearing a blue robe and had an odd-looking hat on. He had spectacles on his eyes, which seemed to bring out their blue coloring. If the lady's eyes were emeralds, his were saphires.
"So, what's your name?" Jarn asked.
"I'm Aiera," she replied with an accent. It was a strange dialect, but Jarn somehow recognized it. "This is Limoth. We just reached the city before the gates closed. We were at the Champions guild."
"I am Jarn," the adventurer said, "and I am traveling with three other companions. We came from Edgeville."
"Edgeville?" Limoth, the old man, inquired. "I've heard that there is rebellion brewing there. Is that so?"
Jarn grinned. "Not anymore. The guards, led by my friend, Kilik, who is upstairs, managed to trap the farmers in the governor's mansion. It's only a few days before they surrender-" he paused, "-or starve."
"The governor is corrupt," Aiera said. "I've heard about him. He imposes high taxes on hit people for protection, along with food for his belly."
"Yes," Jarn said, sipping his beer. "Where are you two headed?"
"Right now, nowhere," Limoth said. "We're searching for a job that an older man like me and a young woman such as Aiera can do."
"Me and my companions don't have anywhere to go, either," Jarn said. "Originally, I travelled to Edgeville, in search of opportunity, but the town has been torn apart by the recent rebellion. After that, we decided to come here."
Limoth leaned in close. "I heard that Zamorak has taken Port Sarim, and the Island of Karamja, as well."
Jarn's eyes widened. "I've heard about Port Sarim, but Karamja as well?"
"Yes," Aiera nodded solemnly. "Zamorak's rule is now imposed over all the islands in the sea, except for Entrana. His army won't take a step there."
"Really?" Jarn asked. "Why?"
"That was where Saradomin first came to Gielnor," Limoth said. "Now I think I can trust you to keep a secret, no?"
"I'll keep your secret," Jarn said, curious.
"We're really trying to kill Zamorak," Aiera revealed.
Before Jarn could become a skeptic, Limoth added, "We know how."
Jarn's eyes widened more than ever before. "How?"
"Do you know the tale of Zamorak's betrayal?" Limoth asked.
"Yes," replied Jarn. "He was killed by Zamorak, who weilded the staff of Armadyl."
Limoth and Aiera both nodded.
"You know much, Jarn," Aiera commented. "Right now, we are searching for that staff. One of the biggest clues we have found lies in a hut just north of the city."
"What was it?" Jarn questioned her.
"In the cot," Aiera began, "I sensed something dark and sinister. I don't know what, but it was evil. I felt a similar sensation one time in the Blue Moon Inn, in Ardougne."
"And what does this have to do with anything?" Jarn asked closely.
"Curious, we went inside the house," Aiera continued. "We found writings, and crumbling tomes, opened to pages, each one on the Staff of Armadyl."
"So you think this has a link to Ardougne?"
"Yes, or around Ardougne," Limoth replied. "Also, I fear that someone else is looking for the staff. Maybe he is like us, willing to use it to destroy Zamorak, or else he could be working for the chaos god himself!"
"I know what you're thinking," Jarn said, "but the Staff of Armadyl lost most of it's power when Zamorak used it to kill Zaros."
"Yes, we know," Aiera said, "but it still contains much power, which leads us to our next clue: Senntisten."
"What can an ancient, ruined, and [/]buried[/I] city have that could possibly defeat Zaros?"
"Zaros' power itself could be saved in Senntisten," Aiera explained. "If not, it will probably have clues to where we can find Zaros' power."
"So how does the Staff of Armadyl and Senntisten defeat a god?" Jarn added, becoming annoyed and skeptic.
"We could use the staff to uncover Senntisten," Limoth said. "I'm sure it has enough power left in it to do that."
Jarn then saw the pair's wisdom. "I understand."
"Good," Limoth said. "So, will you accompany us?"
"I'll have to ask my companions tomorrow when they wake up," Jarn said. "But even if they don't go, I will help you."
"Good," Aiera stood up. "Now, we should get some sleep."
As they two got up, Jarn noticed a white tip of a crystal bow in Aiera's coat. Then it struck him. She was an elf.

i like the last chapters that i havent posted about (especially since my character was in the last 2) all in all great job cant wait for the next but the illusion of a goblin does it mean something and the constant raids is their going to be a rise of bandos in the distant future of this story and how many books will their be

What exactly do you mean? By the way, here's the next chapter.

And there will be 3 boooks total.

Chapter 7

Jarn ducked as a blow from a Zamorakian warrior barely missed his scalp. With a loud cry, the chaos god's follower instead stabbed one of Jarn's companions in the army of Falador.
"No!" Jarn shouted. He swung his giant, granite maul at the warrior, who was instantly smashed into the nearby wall. The wall, Jarn noticed, belonged to what used to be the mining guild. Falador had been devestated by two days of constant bombardment from the Zamorakian's catapults and ballistas, each hurling large stone missiles on the city, some flaming, destroying and scorching the white city. Now, just a few walls, ruined buildings, and rubble remained. Most of the city's residents had been evacuated, but most of the citizens living in the northern part of the city had not been so lucky. One the third day of siege, the bombardment ceased, and the Zamorakians stormed the city. It was a large city, and Jarn found it hard to believe that they had been pushed back so far. The Zamorakians had gained over half of the city already.
"Someone help!" Jarn cried, dragging his fatally wounded companion south, towards what he thought was safety. At first a small group of soldiers rushed to him, then, with expressions of terror on their faces, scattered away. Jarn turned around, and realised why. He dropped his friend on the ground when he saw the figure behind him. It was a beast, easily eight feet tall, with parched, grey skin. The creature made a grunt, and squeezed the handle of a huge, solid black flail. Jarn just starred. He had never seen anything like this menacing monster.
"Give up!" the creature roared. The voice was deep, but Jarn recognized it.
"Kazin..." he muttered to himself. His arch rival, the head of the mourners, was the monstrosity. "So this is how Zamorak rewards those who resurrect him?"
"RAARGH!!!" Kazin, filled with an undying rage, swung his flail around, then swooped it down to kill Jarn. The adventurer, however, used the granite head of his maul to parry the blow. Kazin raised his weapon, and then smashed it down on Jarn. He easily leapt out of the way. Jarn, with a quick slash from his maul, knocked Kazin into the wall of what once was the dwarven mining guild. The creature was exhausted from using his incredibly heavy flail, and just starred at Jarn.
"Kill me," Kazin said mockingly, almost in a whisper. Jarn raised his weapon, and was about to finish him nemesis off, when a barrage of arrows cut through the air, causing Jarn to have to use his large maul to block them.
"I swear, someday I will kill you!" Jarn vowed, and he quickly bolted through what was left of the once gleaming southern gate of Falador. The city had been overrun by Zamorakians.

"Wake up!" Jarn shouted. Leithrom opened his eyes. Kilik was already dressed and was fastening his belt, and Jarn was all ready for the day, as well. The young man looked at Tazquin, who remained snoozing. That was something the two had in common: they both liked sleeping more than getting up. Leithrom stretched out and yawned. He, still tired and weary from travelling from Edgeville the day before, got up slowly.
"Everyone, get breakfast, then meet back up here in an hour, okay?" Jarn half asked, half ordered them all. Kilik seemed to know what he was talking about, but Leithrom and Tazquin were still mystified by it. Leithrom quickly got ready, and followed Jarn and Kilik down the stairs and to the tavern.

The large room wasn't as crowded as it was the night before, probably since it was a lazy saturday morning. Jarn scanned the room, then caught site of Aiera and Limoth sitting alone at a small table. He approached them.
"Good morning, Jarn," Limoth greeted. Jarn nodded to him, then pointed to a table where Leithrom, Kilik, and Tazquin were sitting.
"You see those three over there?"
Limoth and Aiera both glanced at the trio, and each nodded.
"Those are who I'm travelling with. Would you like to present the plan to them?"
"Did you tell them anything?"
"No," Jarn said with a sigh.
"That's alright," Limoth got up, and then himself, Jarn, and Aiera approached the other three.
"Umm... hi," Leithrom said cautiously between bites of his bacon and eggs.
"Hello," Aiera and Limoth both said, one after the other.
"Now," Jarn said, "I met up with these two last night. I believe they know of a way to kill Zamorak."
Tazquin spit out the ale he was drinking. "Kill Zamorak? Impossible."
"Not kill," Limoth said, "but banish, as Zaros did when Zamorak betrayed him. Of course, it's impossible to completely kill a god."
"Whatever," Tazquin said.
"First off, when Zamorak killed Zaros, he used a staff called the Staff of Armadyl, named after an ancient god of purity, to do so. After that the staff was lost, and later reclaimed by Armadyl's followers. We know it is deep into Kandarin, most likely around Ardougne, where a certain temple, the Temple of Ikov, is located.
"Secondly, the city of Zaros, Senntisten, located just a few miles east of here, is rumored to hold runes and hierologlyphics that tell how to banish Zamorak as Zaros did. We could use the power that remains in the staff to uncover the city, and then we can document and learn all the knowledge needed on our quest."
"So," Jarn said. "Who's with us?"
Leithrom warily rose his hand. "I'll go."
Jarn grinned, then turned to the two brothers. "Are you two coming?"
Kilik took a deep breath. "I'll go."
"Then I guess I'll have to go to look out for my baby brother," Tazquin sighed, and Kilik elbowed him in the ribs. Jarn chuckled.
"Okay, I believe we're ready."
"So, what are we going to do?" Leithrom asked.
"Good question," Jarn said. I have a friend named Abury-I've known him for years-who is something of a mage. He can teleport us there. Limoth," He turned to the old man. "Are you capable of teleporting us all back to Varrock?"
"Yes," Limoth replied, "I believe so."

The six travellers approached the aging Abury's home, in the south-east corner of Varrock. Jarn knocked loudly on the sturdy, wooden door.
"Coming!" a voice called in return. The aging rune salesman opened the door. "Jarn!"
"Hello, Abury!" he said, and the two embraced.
"After the Siege of Falador, I thought you were a goner! I'm so glad to see you again!"
"I'm glad to see you," Jarn replied. "But I can't stay long. We have a task we need to do."
"What sort of task?"
"Can you teleport us to Kandarin?" Jarn asked, changing the subject. "Ardougne, preferably."
"Kandarin? Ardougne?" Abury exclaimed. "Are you mad?"
"No," Jarn said. "In time, you'll know. But please, can you teleport us?"
"I can teleport you six to Kandarin, but certainly not Ardougne. That's Zamorak's new capitol, and he'll kill you the second you arrive."
"The Village of the Seers, perhaps?" Jarn questioned him. Abury nodded.
"Yes," he said. "Yes, I can."
"We're ready when you are," Jarn said. The six gathered together inside the shopkeeper's small home.
"Just a moment. Let me get my runes."
He went into a closet, then emerged from it, a handful of air and law runes in his hands. He handed a law and five air runes to each of the six adventurers.
"Wait," Jarn interrupted the silence, "don't tell anyone, alright?"
"Alright," Abury promised. "Not a word."
Abury muttered a few strange words, and then the six all disappeared in an indigo haze.

The group all appeared in a war torn, ruined and half burned-down city. Pacing through the streets was a man dressed completely in black. He was shaking wildly, up and down.
"Hey, you!" Jarn said. The dark-robed man looked at him, and then ran away. Jarn chased after him, and managed to tackle him.
"Spare me! Spare me!" the man croaked in a high-pitched, abnormal voice.
"I'm not going to hurt you," Jarn said, "as long as you guide me and my companions to a temple."
"What temple?" the figure croaked.
"The Temple of Ikov," Jarn said in a low voice, and the creature began shaking. The others soon caught up with him.
"No! No! I can't say! No!"
"Why not?" Aiera asked. "Why can't you tell us?"
"They came! The monster of Zamorak! He asked me, and I ran. He chased me, found and tortured me, then left me for dead! I barely survived!"
Jarn loosened his hold on the man, who had begun to cry.
"I feel sympathy for what happend to you," Jarn began, "but you must guide us. Your fate, and your freedom, depend upon it."
The man stood up. "I know a secret entrance. Follow me!"