As he watched the sun part from the ground, Velgoth Murrel felt a shadow of terror tremble over him. These days there was nothing you can do, but survive. The sun's rays reflected across the cold, rather flat ground. Turning around, he could see nothing but dead trees and bushes. They swayed like petrified ghosts, giving off a rather eerie noise. He walked on. The civil war had sprung out all across the land. A war that had wiped out almost all of Gielnor's population to nothing. All the dwarves had gone extinct, the gnomes had disappeared into the trees, and the elves all went to someplace where they could be alone. All that was left were humans and monsters. The war between Kandarin and Misthalin had marked the end of all hope.

Velgoth returned to where he and his parents were camping at, and fell into their arms. He wished he could be loved by his parents without being afraid. They were the closest things he had. They had enough food to live, but they were constantly straining themselves at work killing the twisted creatures created by the newfound dark magic used in the war. Though their hides were near useless to keep them warm, their meat was valuable to them. It tasted horrible, but it was all they had to depend on.

The sun today gave him an uncomfortable feeling. A feeling that gave a notion of sorrow. He went to his crude tent to think. It was all he could do for entertainment. His mother poked her head into the tent. What was on her face wasn't a sign of softness, to his dismay. She hurriedly crawled inside, his father following. Velgoth tried to speak, but his mother clasped his mouth with her hand. His father whispered, "Don't let them find us. We can only hope they're soldiers of Kandarin, not Mistalin." His family belonged on Kandarin's side. Although they would sometimes ask for food from his family, they were dependable. Velgoth found himself hoping that the soldiers were of Kandarin.

"You think this place is empty?" a voice said.

"No doubt about it. Let's loot this place." a second answered.

"We need to get out of here," Velgoth's father said anxiously. He slowly crawled out of the tent.

"Can you see if they're soldiers of Kandarin or Misthalin?" his mother asked.

"No. Their clothes are too dark. I can't see their sigils. I don't want to take any risks; let's get out." Velgoth and his mother followed after his father. "Don't make any noises," his father said. He followed after them as quietly as he could. As he walked quietly through the camp with his parents, his foot got caught on a rock. To his horror, he found himself falling. The impact between him and the floor echoed quietly through the forest. Out of nowhere, a broad two-handed sword came flashing down. Within seconds, it buried itself deep into his father's back. A lance came piercing through the air, and lodged itself in his mother's body. A painful gasp came from his father, but his mother fell without making a sound.

"Damn.. how could this have happened?!" Velgoth heard the man holding the sword say. He gave a sorrowful glance at Velgoth. Velgoth then saw what tore at his heart the most: a sigil of Kandarin emblazoned on his soldier. "We're sorry kid. We didn't know..." But the apology did nothing. Within seconds, Velgoth felt his anger and power rippling through him. Blood erupted from the two soldiers' mouths as they fell to the ground, dead. Petrified in horror, Velgoth Murrel fainted.

Velgoth looked over the city of Lumbridge. A city now unified, it was now more lively than ever. Its population was at its highest, and buildings were expanded over the River Lum. This was what made Velgoth 's heart boil with anger. He wanted to see people suffering for what had happened in his childhood. He wanted to kill them all, like they did his parents.

In the past eight years, Velgoth had become a master of swordsmanship. His skill with the blade was faster than any other, and his skill became known as a new style of wielding sword. His grave fight for survival in the past had made him a man whose will to fight became stronger than anyone else 's. His future of becoming a self-employed bounty hunter became obvious; even to himself when he was younger. Over the years, he had assassinated several important politicians of Kandarin and Misthalin as a young boy. He became known as a dangerous criminal, and a threat to the armies of Kandarin and Misthalin.

Tonight, he would make his most important assassination in his life. Tonight was the chance for him to assassinate Anier: a priest of Misthalin, who made many important decisions for the king of Misthalin.

"We are gathered here today to negotiate our time of peace with each other, " Anier said. "After years of war with each other, we have finally come to peace." Anier stepped to the front of the room. "We have one particular group that doesn't agree with us... "His portly face turned into a deep red color. "These heretics... these fools! They do not know anything! They must be eliminated at once! " he shouted loudly. The group of representatives before him shuddered and shrank into their wooden seats. "They must be taken care of... "His face began to return to its original pale color, as he gave a piercing grin.

"We don’t even know where they are, Anier. How can we fight something that we can 't find?" a scrawny Senator said from the back of the room.

"That 's why I bring before you today these prisoners. " He clapped loudly, and a nearby door opened. Three men in shackles being escorted by guards came out from the door. "Now I want you to cooperate with us, or you will be immediately executed," he whispered to them. "Now where do you operate from, and who is your leader? " None of them replied. "Answer me!" the portly man yelled. He began to lose his temper again as his face began to turn red again, and his eyes began to bulge. "Guards... escort them to the guillo-" he abruptly stopped.

"Anier...? What's going on? " the scrawny Senator said. Anier didn't answer and instead, fell back into his seat. "Aren 't you going to do anything about these two rebels? " No response. "Very well. I guess I'll take over from here. "He grimaced at the two prisoners. "Let me repeat his question: where do you operate from, and who is your leader?" The room still stayed silent. He glanced at Anier. "Anier, are you alright?" This doesn't seem right, he thought. He stood up from his seat and approached the priest. That was when he noticed there was blood covering his shoulders. "Anier!" the Senator said panicking. "Somebody get a medic!" In that instant, the representatives rose from their seats and began to crowd around the priest's body. "How could this happen...? " the Senator cried into the priest's shoulder.

Stefan watched as the representatives carelessly crowded around the priest. He had thrown a knife at the back of the Priest's neck, while he was perched on the support beams on the roof. If his heart were lighter, he would have laughed. His job was done, and there was nothing more to worry about. He turned around and exited through the window. Suddenly, he heard a voice shouting. "There's someone over there! Somebody catch him! " He began to run for his life. In his head, he knew that no-one would catch him. No-one ever did, but this time he was wrong: a large bulky hand appeared from what seemed like nowhere, and he fell unconscious as he felt the fist smash against his head.

"So you're awake," a shrill voice rang. Velgoth awoke, and was startled at what he saw: a grotesque face staring at him five inches in front his face. "Hello there," the strange man said. "Welcome to your execution ceremony." The man smiled grimly. Velgoth tried to strike out at the man, but couldn't. He noticed his wrists were bound to the wall. "Your heresy will not be tolerated in this new era of peace. We will not let you ruin it for us again. Guards," he motioned towards two bulky men wielding halberds, "escort him to the... Judgement Room." One of the guards pinned Velgoth to the wall, while the other untied his shackles. They both then grabbed his wrists, and dragged him across the floor through a large door, into a long passageway. At the end of the passage, they dropped him and a door dropped between them. Velgoth had the odd sensation of not being alone.

"Why, hello there," he heard a man's voice say. "Thanks for saving my ass back there. It's too bad we're going down, anyway..." Velgoth couldn't recognize the man he was talking to, and hadn't held a conversation with anyone in a long time. He felt a sensation of hate towards the man inside the room with him, but he responded anyway.

"I'm assuming you were one of the captured rebels that the priest got ahold of," Velgoth responded.

"That's right."

"You're assuming they're going to kill us?"

"Well damn, what do you think? They told both of us that we're going to be executed."

"How did you know about what they said to me?"

"If you didn't notice, I was in the same room with you." Velgoth didn't respond. "Well anyway, my name's Bryce. Bryce Stanson." Velgoth felt a hand motioning towards him to shake it, but he ignored it.

A loud voice then emerged from nowhere, "It's time to meet your fate, heretics."

"Have you noticed how they keep calling us that?" Bryce complained.

"Shut up and listen," Velgoth replied, annoyed. A large, wooden door in front of them rose upwards, leading into a large chamber. It was a large, circular room with a dirt floor. What bothered Velgoth was that there was another large wooden door at the end of the chamber.

"Step into the chamber," the booming voice said. Velgoth and Bryce walked into the room, mesmerized at how simple and plain the chamber looked. The walls were formed of a dirty brown sediment, and they were standing on a simple, brown type of sand Velgoth couldn't recognize. The booming voice began to make sounds that resembled laughter. "I'm assuming that you are both very powerful warriors..." The voice paused. "But that only leads you to endure an even more painful death. I will not take the time to interrogate with you fools, so I will just explain your situation briefly." The door from which Velgoth and Bryce came from closed again, as they heard a strange grunting sound come from the other door. "You'll be put up against a Kurask." The other door swung open, and sandy debris spread into the air. From the other side of the dust cloud, Velgoth heard a roar that almost made him fall over. A huge beast emerged from the cloud of dust, charging at them. The beast resembled a green, muscular bull. It's rippling muscles intimidated Velgoth and Bryce, as it charged roaring at them. Velgoth reached for his dagger, but noticed that it had been taken away. He hastily jumped out of the Kurask's path. Something about the aggressiveness of the Kurask bothered him. Common instinct told him that the beast was more aggressive than it should have been. He glanced at its eyes: they seemed to be filled with blood and showed no emotion whatsoever.

The booming voice laughed again. "I must mention to you, though, that it's no ordinary Kurask. We have drugged it with the most powerful drugs we have. It's never going to stop fighting until it dies." Velgoth knew that this was a weakness of the beast, not a strength. He watched as Bryce dodged the Kurask's attacks. Kurasks were normally only able to be killed using leaf-bladed weapons or a specific magic spell. He assumed that the monster's hide must have been weakened by the drugs it was given.

"Bryce, get away from the Kurask. I can handle it by myself." Bryce followed Velgoth's instruction without making any complaints, and ran towards Velgoth with the beast chasing him. When Bryce was near Velgoth, he turned to the left and started gaining distance away from the Kurask, as it focused its attention towards Velgoth. Velgoth then unleashed a power that he hadn't used in eight years: the same extraordinary power he had unlocked when he was only nine years-old. He felt energy and magic flow ripple through his body, as he focused it through an outlet from which it could come out of: his hands. When he had used it before, it had simply killed the two soldiers who had killed his parents.

This time, he hoped to create a more destructive force: a unique magic that could be created without the use of runes. As the Kurask charged towards him, horns bared, he unleashed the raw potential of his magic. A series of blinding, white flames exploded from his hands as he brought them forward. The white flames devoured the dying Kurask, as it released a series of screams. He enjoyed watching it burn. He enjoyed watching it die. He smiled at the power he realized he possessed.

"What are you doing?! Fires are burning all over you!" Bryce yelled. Before he knew it, he found himself covered in white flames. He couldn't feel it burning him, but rather felt it sucking away at his life force: his soul. He tried to stop the magic, but couldn't. It was overpowering him.