This is my first runescape story so it may be a little cheesy....anyway enjoy.:closedeyes:
As Sancrax walked towards the dark road ahead of her she looked back at the city she had just left. The night sky glowed like a halo above the sprawling city, the smoke from many chimneys rose into the warm night air and filled her nose with the smell of log fires burning. Through all the smoke and haze she could just about see the white towers of the castle sullenly reflecting the lights from nearby shops and homes. Falador. She loved this city, it was her home and every since she was small she had walked those streets. She had only left the city very few times before, mainly in times of war where she had spent time with her family in Ardougue. She did not like Ardougue, it was quieter than Falador, and there was no real feel to the city. It was full of thieves and the plague. The castle in Ardougue did not have the same image as the one in her home town. Though the white gleaming image of the city was a facade, darkness lurked there. With one last look back at the city she had spent 20 years of her life in, she walked on into the darkness.
Walking down the dark road she came to a cross roads. The gloom pressed around her eyes like a blindfold. She could barely see three feet in front of her. She needed her wits about her. She came to a signpost and studied it carefully, if she went east she would have to negotiate the barbarian village, if she went west she would have to avoid the druids. There was no choice but to go north. Into the wild. She had to avoid being seen, at least in the wild there were fewer people she would encounter on the way. Though if she did meet someone she would have to be prepared to fight for her life. Suddenly she heard footsteps. Then they stopped. She glanced around herself in the gloom. No one was there, not even a rat. She had lingered too long, carefully and quickly she ran silently north past the sign post and towards the wild.
She had now reached the edge of the wild. Out of her pack she took an oil lantern and a tinderbox. She lit the oil lantern and lowered the flame as far as it would go. She could not afford to be seen. The smell of the wild was unmistakable. It was distinctly musty and cold. It was strange that even the grass seemed to know this was a place of death; it had stopped growing as soon as it met the border of the wild. Sancrax lifted her pack, and stepped over the border into the wild. She was now in danger, though in some respects she was safer here than in Falador. As she walked further into the wild she discarded her teleportation runes, she was now too far into the wild to need them. She was going to need the extra space in her pack as well. She neared a ruined pillar; she knew this was where she needed to be. She took a map out of her pocket and positioned herself to the west of it. The map said three paces west. She walked three paces. She took out a spade from her pack and dug. She dug fast and strong, she could not stay too long out in the open. Thud! She hit wood. She used her hands to remove the excess dirt from around the edges of the box she had unearthed. She levered the box out using her spade. She threw the box down onto the ground and used a hammer to break off the look. She put her hands on the lid and WHOOSH!
An arrow streamed past her left ear. She stuffed the box into her pack drawing her scimitar as she did. She ran towards her attacker, praying to Saradomin for protection against missiles, most of which were flying past her head! Her attacker was a tall dark ranger with a shock of black hair. Wearing full black dragon hide he laughed as he drew another arrow from his quiver, positioned it in his crystal bow and took aim. He was too slow; Sancrax raised her scimitar and brought it down on top of his head. He was dead instantly, he had protected most of his items, so there were few spoils. Though she did manage to collect a little food in the form of lobsters. It was too risky to open the box here in the wild she had to move to a safer place. She knew just where to go. She ran towards a small shed surrounded by mist. She could smell brimstone and sulphur and it was warmer here. She snuck through the door and closed it behind her. She looked up towards the big red lever on the wall, she reached up and pulled.
Before she knew it she was in Ardougue. It was deathly quiet inside the small building with the lever, not a soul was around. She snuck out of the door and into the town. Looking around she gained her bearings, she knew where she was now. She kept to the shadows as she walked down the well kept streets. The city had not changed much since she was little, it was still well kept but there was no feel to the place. There seemed to be very few residents and the town mainly consisted of guards. She had to be careful. The night watchmen would be out. She reached a small house near the river. She knocked on the door three times and waited. Slowly the door creaked open and an old wizened man poked his head around the door. He had very few hairs left and his faced was so lined you could have mistaken him for a prune. He seemed confused. Sancrax wondered why, he knew who she was. Then as the recognition of who she was dawned on him, the old man’s his wizened and lined face cracked into a broad grin. The old man greeted his granddaughter and asked her excitedly if she had brought the box. She gave it too him. He ushered her inside and she watched as he carefully placed the box on a low wooden table. Sancrax now had more time to study the box carefully; it was rectangular in size and made of yew. There were engravings of the dwarven mines around the lid. The oldman sat down and carefully lifted the lid.
Sancrax peered inside and there amongst some old silk lay a pickaxe. A pickaxe?! She walked halfway into the wild and back for an old pickaxe?! Then she looked again at the pickaxe. It was made of some deep red metal and the handle was wood as black as the night. The metal glinted in the candle light sending red reflections onto the walls. Her grandfather lifted the pickaxe out of its tomb and gave it to Sancrax. Who expected it to be very heavy but it had strange unnatural lightness to it.
“I want you to have this.” He whispered. He then explained. Sancrax already knew most of his story. He had been the greatest miner in Runescape; he had even coordinated the mining guild with the dwarves. Now came to part she did not know. One day while the dwarves and her grandfather were extending the guild they had stumbled upon a rock which was of the deepest red. The Dwarves had never seen an ore like it. They decided to investigate; it took them months to extract the ore from the rock. The rune pickaxes they were using kept breaking and shattering on contact with the rock. Eventually they managed to break the rock open and extract the ore. The Dwarves decided that the first item they should make should be a pickaxe; therefore in the future the ore could be mined easily and quickly. Then the task of making the pickaxe came. It was not too hard a job as they imagined it would be. Twenty coal ore needed to be used for every dragon ore. Then the pickaxe was made. The speed at which it removed ore from the rock was amazingly fast. The Dwarves got greedy and wanted more. So the next week the Dwarves and her grandfather returned to the mining guild. They studied the rock they had recently discovered. The ore had not regenerated even in nearly three months.
Her grandfather told her that he and the dwarves had given up waiting for the rock to regenerate and they destroyed all evidence of it. The Dwarves decided that it was unfair that her grandfather should be the one to have the pickaxe. They told him that if he did not destroy the pick they would expel him from the guild and make sure he never worked in mining again. Her grandfather explained to Sancrax that mining was his life; he could not afford to keep the pick. So he hid deep in the wild where no one knew where it was. When he told the Dwarves he had destroyed it they searched his home top to bottom, incase he had lied. They found nothing. Sancrax sat stunned; she could not believe that she had carried the most important mining tool in the history of Runescape in her pack, nearly getting killed by a ranger. Now the pick was hers. She stood up and hugged her grandfather. He looked at her and said "You can never return to Falador, if you are seen with the pickaxe the Dwarves will kill you and come looking for me." Sancrax wondered why on earth he had given the pick to her in the first place. As if reading her mind her grandfather said "I need you to find more dragon ore, I can not believe there was only one ore in the whole of Runescape. Learn how to craft dragon armour and weapons....this is a secret that Runescape can no longer keep." She smiled and hugged her grandfather thanking him. As she walked out of the door and towards the bank she thought to herself "Damn.....I hate mining."
Thanks for reading:) This is my first runescape based story so no flaming please. I would like to hear any constructive criticism you may have to offer though.