I've had some help from Aliath (I believe he's known as Fake II on this forum), and it's been much appreciated, but I'm looking for more critiquing to get better.--Nvm he's just annoying
So, please read and review!
Early Morning Awakenings (Chapter 1)
It was a breathtaking day in Lumbridge. The sky was bright and clear, and you could taste the first strawberries of summer ripening around town. Unfortunatly, it appeared that it wouldn't last. He could smell the freshness of the air but the warnings in his bones told him a completely different story. There was going to be rain. He adjusted his cloak. Was he wrong? The way the birds chirped briskly in the quiet morning air and the wind briskly tousled his hair told him so. But he was never wrong.
Was he dreaming about the day? Things that seem too good to be true often are. He learned that at quite an early age when his mother had died of an infection. The great epidemic of 01. Funny that Gielinor has been around so long and people haven't even invented a cheap way to dispose of disease. All those greedy kings and queens, knights and idiots with power. If it were back in the day, he'd make sure that each and every one of them got what they rightfully deserved, no more or no less.
Unfortunately for him, it wasn't back in the day. He sighed. There I go again...
He passed several traders pulling a wagon full with long firs and silks. They glanced in his direction quizzically. He returned a blank gaze and they both shuffled along.
Well, he didn't know about anyone else, but had a job to do and he would accomplish it with honor as he always did. There would always be a need for his league. There- he cut himself off before he wandered too far off his thinking path.
Quilmer's stomach moaned in distress, making him roll his eyes in disgust. Such a poor way to show a need of something. It really is too bad that we were designed so crudely, he thought to himself prudently. As he fervently scavenged the streets for an inn or other food source he reminisced on all the dumpy places he was forced to eat these days. Nothing compared to the chefs in Falador, with the juicy meat and the tender rolls. The sweet wine that could make you ramble for hours and the cherry pie that people have actually died for. His mouth started to water as he pondered on...
Still a little ways from the city of Lumbridge, he found an inn that looked more intelligently maintained than the "Drunken Cehfs" place around the corner. They couldn't even spell the name right. How uncivilized! He chuckled when he noticed the sign out front of the "Shining Kettle". "If the food tastes like the cook can't tell a teacup from a toaster oven, than the meals on us!". It reminded him of the old days of when he would sit around a table with his pals and joke about everything "Until young men grow hair on their chest and find beer in the kettle!". Man, he was getting old.
"May I help you?" The bartender was an ugly man with over-extensive arm hair and a badly worn tuxedo. "Lost a fight with a hairdresser?" inquired Quilmer. The bartender just grunted "I guess you want to usual..." and slumped off. I wonder why everyone is in such a foul mood today Quilmer pondered quietly to himself...
Two guys, gentleman, detached themselves from their table and sauntered over to where Quill (As what we will refer to Quilmer from now on) was sitting at the bar. They ventured so close behind him he could smell the rancid breath of one- it smelled like rotting fish on a pile of cow dung quietly burning its way through the night. The other smelled like sweet strawberries on a golden field, each reverberating the brilliance of the sun.
What an odd combination.
Quill turned and noticed several things about his now bar-buddies. One was heavily armed with a bow, quiver, short sword and axe while, curiously, the other seemed to be un-armed. He thought about striking them down with his staff immediately, but he calmed his nerves with the thought that he had no idea what they wanted as of yet, but he sure as hell would bet it wasn't friendly.
"May I help you?" Quill asked in a casual voice.
Spittle falling from his mouth like rain on a sunny day the man that smelled something horrible, spat "I doubt you could help a dragon with dementia."
"Oh shut up, just shut up!" the finely dressed man stated as he turned to his partner. "If you can't hold your temper in long enough to talk you are worthless around here."
The other man just spat and looked out the window.
"Now, the reason we came to inquire upon you", the man said as he did a military grade turn upon Quill, "is to wonder if you happen to be this man." He pulled out a flier with a picture that looked exactly like him.
"You see" the man continued, "we've been hearing stories about how this man seems to obliterate all organizations, like ours, that he comes across. I had hoped this day would never come, but alas, it seems fate has brought yet another problem to my doorstep." He sighed. He had been slowly inching his way back to his table while talking and now ordered indirectly to his men "Bring him to the rendezvous location alive!"
Quill was ready.
To an observer standing outside the Shining Kettle, it would appear if the entire town of Lumbridge had gotten into a bar-fight, with heavily armed people flying out of the windows, the roof, and anywhere there was room enough for a fit. It lasted for a good four minutes before ceasing into the peaceful day it was again.
Quite the warm-up. Quill adjusted his cloak.
---
Julius Kendalf was ordinary. He was 6 ft exactly and 162 pounds. He wasn't what you would call buff, at least not compared to most of the boys his age. He had long dark hair and impervious blue eyes. He was a dreamer and would often imagine battles taking place in his living room. He loved to watch sunsets and liked to be at the top of the world (high places). At least he thought he was normal. Doesn't everyone think they are ordinary to themselves?
Most people thought he was normal. Most did not include his boss, though. And Julius was late again.
Drat.
He spent too much time last night dreamily gazing into the sunset and thinking about distant past battles and raging wars when his friend Ron walked by. They ended up talking about Julius's village crush, a girl named Elizabeth. Her hair was golden like a sunset on a perfect day. Like today.
Anyway, he was late and that was that.
You could call Julius lazy, but lazy is such an umbrella word. He preferred the word fashionable.
"Watch where you're going!" blurted a short fat man. He sported a yellow suit that made you want to commit suicide Julius noticed as the man had a coughing fit.
Great I did it again... said Julius as he rolled his eyes.
"That you did! And if I recall correctly, around here we're civilized enough to not plow straight over people if we're going somewhere. If I wasn't in a hurry right now I'd show you how a very angry gentleman behaves..." the rest was lost over the noise of the crowd on a busy Lumbridge castle morning and the distance Julius was trying to create between him and his very depressing friend.
"Sorrrrry" mumbled Julius as he proceeded walking through the largest clump of dumbfounded looking people he could find- just to get away from Mr. short and very angry.
What a queer! thought Julius to himself as he approached the castle doors at an almost trot. They were large burgundy colored doors that gave away a long history of protection and safety-as marked by the scratches and gouges on the wood. They were doors that made you impressed by life. Julius gaped in awe at the craftsmanship involved in making all the symbols and markings on the door for a few more minutes before realizing he was fashionably late again and scurrying onwards toward his early morning destination.
"Pre-occupied are we?" asked Fred the cook as he looked at the milk. "You're late as usual. What's the excuse this time, attacked by a sunflower?" Fred was clearly enjoying himself these days and had gotten into what he called 'comedy'. Comments like these involved grinning and laughing and Fred liked to make fun of Julius a lot. Fred started to laugh.
Right again...
Although this time Julius didn't notice nor did he care. Julius was just a little pre-occupied at the moment while his sights were on something else. Something else indeed...
Rivets of Pain (Chapter 2)
Standing, riveted to the floor as if nailed, he stared a loving gaze. There it was, his dream sword. And yet it hung right above him, only inches from his face. Teasing him with its beauty it glimmered in the light, making the wall a laser light display of yellow. He contemplated stealing it. It was so beautiful, with the light from the window reflecting in a thousand piercing beams upon its shiny, metal surface. He longed to touch it. He wanted it.
No, that was an understatement. He wanted it.
It took every ounce of his being to look away when he realized Fred had noticed him staring at it and realized his intentions."Like it, do you?" explained Fred, very gleefully. He started to talk mesmerizingly, as if he came straight out of a book or tale. "I sent for it weeks ago when we started hearing of all these unnatural skirmishes. I thought it might come in handy one day, hopefully not soon, but if that day comes I'll be ready."
Little good it would do in his hands, thought Julius, blankly staring out the window.
"It's a premium longsword," said Fred, completing his original statement "steel of make. I paid 20 gold for it. A fine sword it is too! It was hand crafted-naturally, from the finest swordsmith in the land! Rumor has it that he actually made a sword out of-"
"Runite ore." said Julius finishing his sentence for him. Julius knew all about Thurgo the Smith. He was famed for making the finest swords- out of steel, adamant, mithreal, and even Rune. He made swords for kings and queens. Not cooks. Now why would he make a sword for a cook?...
"Oh, but I am getting ahead of myself!" Fred loudly proclaimed scaring the begeezees out of Julius, still blankly staring out the window, deep in thought. "The duke still needs a meal!"
Julius hated his job. The only reason he had his job was because a fat, burly and ugly friend of a friend of a 'friend' claimed to know the duke himself, and through a long line of talking, confirming, and passing on, he eventually was spat out the other end of the process as the assistant to the cook.
Julius hated his job.
Not only did he know diddle-squat about cooking, he hated it. It took time, perseverance and a 'strong mind', which was Fred's favorite quote. Add cheese here. Sprinkle garlic there. And best of all, wait. Wait, wait, wait wait wait! Wait! Thats all Julius ever did in his job. He pondered the thought to himself throughout every prolonged, sunny, beautiful day. Why couldn't he be an apprentice to a famous swordsman or something? He groaned.
Today seemed to be... different, though. Something about it made him shiver. Other than the fact that it was getting dang cold, thought Julius, as he quaked in the cold. Was it that every other day has been perfect, not to hot, not to cold with the right amount of sunlight besides today? He could watch the clouds roll in and hear the roar of thunder.
Wait a second... Lightning? We haven't had a lightning storm in years... Julius's mind wandered off course like a third graders crayon while trying to "Fill in the lines". He suddenly realized that maybe he would be smart to take shelter before he was struck to death. Now that would be a horrible end.
He passed a group of business men scurrying towards the castle trying to remain at a proud-like walk, but not such a slow one so as to not get wet. Business men hate getting wet.
Julius hurried onwards towards his eyed destination- the church. The bells started tolling their striking song as he hurried out of the rain. Being graced by a thousand brilliant spheres, Julius was soaked almost instantaneously. But Julius wasn't the only one trying not to get wet as he was accosted by a mob of people trying to get out of the rain; all heading for the church as the final destination. Unfortunately, not a one would actually make it to the church. Rapidly everyone fell over, as if waylaid by the actions of some far-away dream. The beautiful sunflowers near the churches entrance gave away nothing as timber floated through the air. It was a beautiful sight and Julius felt like he was flying. It all felt like a dream...
Reality is a hard thing, especially if you are to be hit by it. What Julius knew had happened was the exact thing he knew would never happen.
The church blew up.
Not only did it blow up, but its insides shattered everywhere. Julius stood into the torrential downpour of both wood and rain. What happened next was even creepier. The church was replaced by an army. An army of black knights, goblins and apparently one wizard Julius almost said aloud to himself quizzically. What would a wizard have to do with goblins...
Julius whole-heartedly believed he was dreaming. He would wake up in the safety of his bed, or maybe on the floor in this case, clutching his blankets savagely. Until now, no-one had ever fought him at anything-especially not with sharp-ended objects or things that go bang. Julius found it amusing that there were cave giants crashing through the gates to Al Kharid. He found it especially amusing when everyone ran past him screaming at the top of their lungs. He looked around him. There was an old man behind him and several oddly red people running for dear life itself towards the castle gates.
"RUN FOR YOUR LIFE, BOY!" yelled Quill towards Julius as he engaged the massively swarming amounts of goblins.
Julius paid no attention. It was a dream.
Quill was a little frustrated now. He turned from slashing a goblin in half to yelling "ARE YOU DEAF, BOY? RUN!"
Julius experimentally ducked as an arrow flew where his head was. It hit the old man in back of him. Julius stared in disbelief. The old mans blood ran crimson as a rose before he slumped over to breath his final air.
This was no dream.
Without thinking Julius ran. He ran for his life. He ran for his parents. He ran for the cook. He ran.
---
...Yeah
(lol)
