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I honestly don't remember Sal's Masses that much, admittedly they were some of the least interesting events to me. Doesn't mean they weren't fun, because they were, I merely wasn't much of a PvMer and always enjoyed events that made me compete more directly with others, PvP or not. So while Masses were fun, and I didn't do that badly with a maxed acccount, I still felt much like a fish out of water most of the time. Still, great times were had and we did make some fun loot. Edit: Some of these may not be from masses but just trios or duos with Sal's members. Sal's drops in any case. (In this one you can see both Doom and Sellador aka Common Sense logging in) A massive thanks to everyone who ever attended Sal's Masses or just randomly did bosses with me. You guys and gals are too many to tag here, but you're the ones who made my final days of RuneScape fun.

This entry isn’t the best, but because I’m still IP blocked I can only use my phone to write, and the content I can add is rather limited. 06-06-(20)06 - RuneScape's day of infamy. Or RuneScape's most exciting day. Depends on who you ask. 6-6-6 was the day the Construction party bug took place, and a then rather unknown player - Durial321 - became the stuff of legend. I could explain what happened in my own words, even though most people probably remember the whole thing like it happened yesterday, given how shocking it was at the time. But I'll let your own and only @Adam? tl;dr it to you: 2007 Adam? is completely right. The Falador Massacre was caused by a combat ring bug in Cursed You's house. Cursed You was an insanely rich player, who invested his many resources into becoming the first player to ever achieve 99 in the then extremely expensive skill Construction. To celebrate this fact - like any rich person would - Cursed You threw a gigantic party at his PoH and invited the entire game to attend. Things went sour when Cursed You decided to expel the many players inside his PoH, causing a malfunction in the house itself and the game. Players in the house's PvP area - not all but only a select few - found themselves able to attack people outside the PoH's instanced area. A dream come true to any PvPer. One player in particular took advantage of this: Durial321. He began slaying people left and right, killing them with a combination of deadly Ice Barrages and his Abyssal Whip (back them still the top weapon). Players caught and killed dropped all their valuables, allowing Durial to loot two already then very expensive Party Hats, including a Green Party hat Durial then wore as the ultimate middle finger to the people he was killing, as seen in the video footage. After a few minutes of complete and total mayhem, Jagex staff finally intervened and disconnected Durial321, and banned him for bug abuse. By then damage and been done and RuneScape history had been written. in 2016 Jagex hosted events celebrating this infamous day, with multiple references to Durial321, Green Party hats, and a NPC version of Durial for players to fight. The original Massacre video:

Two of my most prized RuneScape related possessions were made here, by two extremely talented women of Sal's Realm: @zellychan and @Cresenne! (I hope I got your tags correct) Both were (and likely still are!) amazing artists, capable of turning into amazing pieces of art anything you requested of them using only their pens and imagination. I've used and abused their amazing gifts here and every other RuneScape forum, ranking as my top used signatures online, anywhere. Words cannot express how grateful I am that they sacrificed their time to make a relatively unknown at the time RuneScape player (and noob) this happy. Santa hats off to the two of you. The first piece shows my RuneScape character in a Clan War, sporting 3xtermination (a Sal's based clan) colors (red), 'tanking' enemies from a green capped clan. White medium hair, because in my youth I was a huge fan of Devil May Cry and Dante. Zamorak armor because the lore lover in me enjoyed showcasing my preferrences when it came to the Gods. And because, let's face it, it was mad stylish. The second piece was done years later, and shows my evolution as a RuneScape player from your basic "F2P PKer / Clanner" to all around PvPer claded in P2P mage armour. The switch in combat style came with my love for the skill of Magic, which quickly became my favourite combat skill and area of expertise. Magic was never made to be viable as a single combat skill in the F2P version, with it being only useful during clan wars with the added protection numbers provided. P2P on the other hand, it was deadly, cool and very satisfying.

Sal's Realm Old School Castle Wars Event Team Santafish Vs Squirtle Squad Far from the high attendance standards of the Sal's of old, these events hosted roughly a decade ago were the final days of Sal's activity, when we could still pull a small but consistent group of people to attend fun events. This event, an Old School Castle Wars competition between teams Santafish (led by Salmoneus) and it's rivals the Squirtle Squad (led by Micael Fatia) was possibly one of the final few times Salmoneus himself attended an event. Needless to say we all had a blast. My pictures have been copied and transferred multiple times, so it's hard to find an accurate date of creation for these screenshots. The oldest date associated to them I could find was March 4th of 2013, nearly 10 years ago, but it's potentially older than that.

A not-so-brief-introduction: Back in the day players who considered themselves "PvPers" (or the most used word: "PKers") were essentially split in two very basic main categories: the F2P PKers, and the P2P PKers. P2P PKing usually involved more risk, as the equipment was more valuable, and weapons more overpowered and dangerous. It made for quick and deadly duels, usually with considerable amounts of gold being gambled. F2P on the other hand was looked down upon by the P2Pers - who considered anyone who did F2P PKing was "below" their tier and level - as well as by a considerable portion of the non-PvP community who merely did not understand it. F2P PKing, however, despite not as expensive with a rough average of 200k in armour being risked, arguably required more skill. And why was this the case? F2P fights had a mix of high defense armour and only average damage-dealing weapons. Meaning with appropriate food, and equally armoured/armed foes, fights could last a long time. Much longer than P2P encounters. Because it was impossible to KO your opponent if they were at full Hitpoints or near full, and players would run after expending all their food, an unofficial rule was introduced in the F2P PKing community: the "no-safing rule". What was the no-safing rule? Safing was the action of 'eating' / using healing food while above the amount of lifepoints considered 'safe' or free of risk that could cause the player to get 'KOed'. 'Honorable' PKers (or at least smart ones who wanted a chance to earn kills and loot) were expected to maintain their lifepoints at around a low, albeit reasonable amount; so that an opponent could lower their lifepoints with their primary weapon, and with a quick switch of weapons to a secondary, usually much slower but harder hitting weapon, potentially inflict a large hit and KO/defeat their foe. It depended heavily on luck to inflict the important final hit, and fights consisted of minutes doing this 'dance' trying to KO their adversary. It required better timing, stress control, prayer points allocation and timing, luck and everything else than almost everything P2P PKing required; where damage was consistently high and brutal and less dependent on skill and timing, and rellying far more on specials and luck. What were/are 'Corrupt Weapons'? Corrupt Weapons were introduced after the free-trade removal; a system introduced by Jagex to combat RWT/RMT. Essentially - as many of you surely remember - Jagex removed the concept of gifts, free trades/exchanges or item drops to limit/eliminate the perceived threat of RWT/RMT to their game, without any care or second thoughts on how it'd impact the manner the game and it's community functioned. It was highly damaging to the PvP community as a whole, who no longer received as a reward for killing their opponents said fallen opponent's 'gear', usually expensive. The drops became randomly generated, in a tremendously unfair system that relied on pure luck for the most part, and a weird and unreasonable kill/death average formula. With the new system now in place, Corrupt Weapons were added as potential drops not just for P2Pers but also for F2Pers, adding a new layer of difficulty to F2P PKing. And why's that? Corrupt Weapons were/are the 'corrupt' versions (aka degradable after x uses) of the famed P2P Dragon Weapons, weapons and armor previously unnacessible to F2Pers. They hit harder and faster than Rune weapons, and gave a massive advantage to anyone using them, thus becoming highly sough after by the top F2P PKers as KO weapons. Getting a Corrupt Weapon drop was a guaranteed couple mils, and bank made. The chief of which was the Corrupt Dragon Battleaxe, the dream of any F2P PKer. Personal opinion / disclaimer: I by no means wish to offend or bellitle P2P PKing and P2P PKers. It does require skill, and considerably more risk given that you can get killed much faster and easily, completely out of nowehere with the added bonus of risking more wealth. I have personally however tried both, and always felt F2P appealed more to me, and reminded me more of the RuneScape of old. Both types of PKing similar mainly in the basis that you had to kill your opponent, but very different in the way you went about doing so. Excellent F2P PKers could fail utterly doing P2P PKing the same way expert P2Pers would get their behinds handed to them in a glorious manner trying F2P PKing.

As the first entry I'll use a piece of artwork made by @Zooey. Zooey and I didn't know each other that well all things considered, but from my part I can say he was someone I grew to respect a lot and consider a Sal's friend. He was always willing to create cool signatures and avatars for me, without asking for anything or much at all in return. A tremendously nice person and Sal's user to have around. In this one in particular Zooey highlighted my background as Sal's resident F2P PKer/PvPer, as well as my involvement in the Clan World of RuneScape. In all my years as a RunesScape player and Sal's user, I've had countless avatars and signatures made specifically for me. Many of them of considerable high quality, which I plan to share here in the blog in the future, in another nostalgic entry or multiples. And yet, this piece is the one I choose to represent the blog as it truly captures the essence of who I was as a RuneScape player: a PvPer of the minor F2P leagues, and Clan World aficionado. Many thanks Zooey!

Hi all! It is with a heavy heart that I type this now... This used to be one of my go-to places for RS3 help, but sadly, Salmoneus seems to have abandoned the place after the Back to the Freezer guide came out, and it is now - regretfully - completely dead... I will keep my account, but, truthfully, I don't expect to ever use it again. I mainly use Rune H.Q and the Jagex-approved R.S Wiki now, as the Fandom-run RS Wiki is as dead as this site, and has been since roughly 2019... Anyway, this is Noble K bidding Sal's Realm a fond farewell, and wishing things didn't have to end the way they did...

Requirements:Welcome to Death Dose. We are a team of friends with maxed combats turned into a clan. We love. We need ranks.Therefore, We will rank people according to your activity and contribution in the clan DISCORD: https://discord.gg/VTcr5HkMy Discord: Benny#2484Clan Requirements:- 110+ Combat- 1250+ Total Level- 77+ Prayer with Augury, Rigour, Piety - 94+ Magic- 90+ Range - 90+ Strength Quests:-RFD-Roving Elves-Monkey Madness 2

HEY GUYS! I'm back. Zazzy gave me an oldschool bond for a week; anyone else playing oldschool still?? #SALS_CC #SALMONEUS_LIVES I made a Patreon and am slating myself as producing Generative Art & Critical Thinking-based posts, but I've got 3D printing ideas and a lot of other stuff going around; if y'all have any thoughts (critical!! I wanna hear them!!) about my first post I'd love to hear them. Link is here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/24773177 Anyways, enough about me, what's everyone been up to lately? I miss Runescape and the community here; crazy how it's been over a decade for (almost? I'm guessing EVERYONE) the typical user here! Weird growing up around a video game as our common interest. Talking about playing Castle Wars is way more fun than talking about beer, drugs and the weather

Check out 258 for Life getting 200M Cooking! This is my 5th account to get 200M Cooking! 1 BILLION EXP! from Matt258RuneScape on http://www.twitch.tv https://www.twitch.tv/videos/299520303 … … 200M Cooking on 5 accounts! I could have got it on the August 8th 2018 but I wanted some friends to be On. Well I decided tonight when I saw Zezima Online to ask him to come Other friends wern't On :( I didn't want to keep putting it Off so decided to just get it with only Zezima there. Matt258 [Rank #2 to 200M Cooking] Oh No 2 Defs 8-7-2011 Cooking here 10-12-2012 Burnt Fish 9-30-2017 258 For Life 8-19-2018

I was introduced to Runescape around 2007 and played (as a paid member) to help relieve the boredom of looking after my late mother, and as 'Chief Sefton', I fought my way up to a fairly high level. By about 2010 I was Here Then somehow, I am not sure what happened, I lost the lot. There was some confusion during the RS3 change over I think but I am not sure. Needless to say, I was not happy about it. I rejoined last month, again as a paid member, and gradually fighting my way back. as Sir Molyfar. As of 06/02/18, I was here.

My other new series video. Come watch my adventures in oldschool

NOTE: Chapters one through six are in this post, seven through twelve are in my second post in this topic, thirteen through eighteen are on my third post, nineteen through twenty one on my fourth, and my fifth post will contain the remaining chapters. Demon Tide Chapter One The sun was absent from the skies as Finway continued to trudge along the road, his long blonde hair waving as he walked. The clouds almost completely covered the skies, casting a grey blanket over the world. Rain had fallen the night before, and some of its leftovers still refused to dry as they clung to the leaves. How pretty, he observed as he noticed the wind blow through the damp trees. The breeze was chilly, a remnant of the winter that had just passed. An adventurer like Finway, however, had survived much more than mild winters. As the son of a noble Varrockian family, despite being orphaned at a young age, it was his duty to be commissioned by the king himself, an honor he had undergone on many occasions. His first quest of such nature was to rid the city of a resurrected demon, Delrith, which he had precisely executed. The abomination, which had appeared at the stone circle just south of the city, was easily dealt with: all Finway really had to do was obtain a key, open a chest and reclaim a sword. The actual battle with the creature had been a joke; with the sword itself being enchanted by Misthalin's most powerful mages and blessed by the royal city's priests, Delrith hadn't stood a chance. The young noble laughed when he thought of how nervous he had been at the time. Almost more comical, however, was the recognition he had received afterwards. He had been dubbed a 'Defender of Varrock,' and gained instant fame throughout the city. All that, he thought, for such an easy task. His second commission had been slightly harder: he, along with another, had to reclaim two halves of the Shield of Arrav, one of the most treasured objects in all of Misthalin. Such quests had granted him much favor with the king, and all of the benefits that came along with it, including even more assignments. In fact, Finway had just finished a short, royal mission three days earlier. As cumbersome as they oftentimes were, he learned to appreciate such quests, each one giving him a wealth of knowledge, as well as hefty reward. A gust of wind brought down a small torrent of leftover rain from the trees, gently splashing them across Finway's face and effectively bringing him out of his reminiscing. He was traveling to the house of Lord Rinious Vanthin, a prominent aristocrat in Varrock and a fellow acquaintance of King Roald himself. Vanthin was a wealthy man, and held much valuable land north of city. He rented the countryside out to farmers, and he even held a small part of the southern mines, the two combined giving him a substantial income. The influential nobleman lived in a magnificent mansion that dwelt on his estate north-west of the city, and was hosting a celebration that night. Although Lord Vanthin did not openly disclose the reasons for the festivities, virtually every attendee knew the reason: the wealthy man was looking for a husband for his daughter, his precious Abigail. She was by no means a renowned beauty throughout the town, and no one could accuse Vanthin of attempting to flaunt his daughter before the young men of Varrock. However, in his old age he knew that Abigail must find a spouse, and a ball held at his home would be the perfect opportunity for it. Finway once more gazed up at the trees and appreciated their beauty. He could see Vanthin Manor up ahead in the distance, so he sighed with relief and continued to walk along the cobblestone path. Another breeze came by, chilling the late afternoon air. He hadn't seen Lord Vanthin or his daughter in several months, and so he looked forward to being in their company once again. Hopefully, he thought, Abigail's feelings for me haven't changed since I last left. Abigail stared out her westward balcony, towards the road that traveled around the Grand Exchange, the massive financial marketplace her father had helped set up. She once more glanced into the mirror and observed her outward appearance, making only the slightest changes to her brown, curly hair. "Abigail," her father said as he came knocking at her door. "Abigail? Your guests are arriving. You wouldn't want to be rude to them, would you?" She opened the door, revealing to her father her gorgeous black and silver dress. "Must I go down now?" Lord Vanthin ignored the question and simply stared at her. "You look beautiful. I just wish your mother was here to witness this." Her face broke into a smile of pride and self-assurance, accompanied by her cheeks reddening sharply. Before she could respond, her father asked, "Is there anyone in particular that you wish to see this evening?" "Every single lord and lady in the city will be here, who won't be here to be seen, father?" she replied wittily, her grin ceasing to fade. "I know, I know," her father sighed as he stepped into her room, taking a seat on a chair. "I just want you to be happy, that's all. Find the right man, settle down…these are things that I want to see happen to you." "They will, they will…" His daughter knelt down beside him. "Just be patient and let me take my time, father." "Time?" the lord broke into a laugh. "I'm afraid I don't have much of that left anymore." "Father, you have plenty," Abigail scolded, standing up. "You're impatient, that's all." "That I am, that I am. Just tell me, please," he pleaded, "is there someone that you're looking forward to seeing?" She turned away, smiling as her face grew increasingly warm. The aging nobleman stood up as he, too, grinned, placing his arm on her shoulder. "Whoever it is, I'm sure he'll be here," he consoled. By the time Finway had reached the main entryway, it was nearly dark outside, with just the slivers of light piercing the horizon behind the mansion. "Sir Finway Minarch, an honor to have you arrive!" a greeter proclaimed proudly, obviously trained to do so. "May I take your coat?" "Of course," the young man replied, taking off and handing his overcoat to the man. "I hope your visit is quite enjoyable, sir," the servant declared, referring to the young lord incorrectly. However, such was the custom for possible suitors of the maid of the house: despite their proper title, they were all simply referred to as 'sir.' Once Finway stepped inside, he felt a warm draft billow towards him. The heat attempted to escape through the open doors, but fortunately, a servant promptly shut them. Soon enough, another guest arrived and the cycle repeated. The mansion did not lose a single spec of magnificence once one stepped inside it's gates. A grand chandelier loomed down from the ceiling, illuminating the entire foyer. The entryway was adorned with pictures of famous and influential lords and ladies. Finway recognized two prominent paintings as that of Lord Vanthin's father and grandfather, as Abigail had informed him at an earlier meeting of the two. It was quite noticeable that they were the two most venerated pictures, each one hanging on the wall of the double staircase, visible for all to see. Suddenly, a household butler procured himself from the top of the grand staircase, summoning all the attention towards himself. "My Lords and Ladies, may I present to you Abigail Vanthin, Lady of the House." With two maidservants carefully attending to her dress so she wouldn't trip, the young woman presented herself before the guests, most of whom had already arrived. After she had finished processing down the staircase, the ball officially began, with the fancily dressed musicians starting to play their instruments. Although Finway yearned to dance with her, he knew that he couldn't, not just yet. He could easily have approached her and asked her, and she would have undoubtedly said yes, but he needed it to be more than that: he needed it to be a surprise, totally unexpected, as was characteristic of him. While he was quietly contemplating what to do, he noticed that another young lord, Geoffrey Diminus, had beaten him to the chance: he was already talking with the noble lady and the two had begun dancing. I can deal with that, Finway comforted himself. He knew that himself and she would share their time together before the night was through. "Lord Finway!" a larger man approached the adventurer. It was Lord Dimintheis, a wealthy man who dwelt in the large Southeastern homes of Varrock. "Glad to see you here!" "Lord Dimintheis, what an honor!" Although the man seemed happy, Finway knew his story and of how he was depressed that all three of his sons had left him. He longed to help him reunite the family, but his present duties were always to the king and his various tasks, thus leaving him with no time to do so. "So, are you like the rest of the young men here at the court?" the noble asked, smiling with his narrow eyes. "I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean," Finway lied as he grinned back. "…after the young lady's hand in marriage, I suppose?" "Perhaps, I guess I'm just here for the sake of being part of not being absent." "A-ha, I can tell, boy, you're lying through your teeth." The two of them let out a chuckle. "I remember when I was your age, I was always chasing after women." "Women are women, but adventures, that's what I long for," Finway responded with a lie, wishing to change the subject, not because he was uncomfortable, but for the sake of the conversation. Although outwardly adventure might have delighted him, it had morphed into something that increasingly tired him. "Ah, I remember those days," exclaimed the old man as he wrapped himself in memories. "I never quite saved the city from destruction as you have, but I did do a few diplomatic missions here and there for the king before I settled down." There was a small pause in their conversation. "At first I longed to be an adventurer such as yourself, but then after a while I realized that such quests weren't meant for me." The conversation broke apart there, as Dimintheis drifted off towards others to talk to, others that were closer to his own age than Finway was. The young man looked over and once again caught a glimpse of Abigail. This time, however, she was not dancing with anyone, and seemed rather lonely as she stood by the steps. Although he agreed that she wasn't the slimmest woman on the streets, no one could deny the adorable nature of her face. The youthful Geoffrey had himself taken an interest in other, thinner women. He noticed that she started walking towards her left, and so Finway used it as an opportunity. Quickly pacing through the crowd, he started towards her. She suddenly turned, right into him, and so he grasped her hand and put the other at her side. "Oh, I'm so glad you'd like to dance with me," Finway exclaimed. Abigail nearly laughed from the unexpected nature of their reuniting. "I didn't know you were coming," was all she managed to say through her huge smile. "I was on the guest list, wasn't I?" Finway smiled at her, tilting his head sideways to give off a confused appearance. She giggled. "Of course, I just thought you were out on commission for the king." The thought of leaving once more brought about a great depression inside Finway, but he nonetheless forced a brightened facial expression to show. "Maybe the king works around his own schedule so I can attend these celebrations?" Abigail giggled once more, and so he held her as tight as ever as they danced. "Is the king really that generous?" Finway looked back at her deep, brown eyes that matched her curly hair almost perfectly. "I wish it were so." She leaned in and placed her head on his chest as their conversation fell silent. Finway, looking for something to say, noticed Lord Vanthin nearby, smiling at the two of them. "I'm sorry if your father is disappointed, I'm sure you could do better than an adventurer like myself." "Don't worry," she consoled, "you're exactly the type of man he wants for me." "It's warm in here," Finway observed, changing the subject once more as he spun her around to the dance and held her tightly. "Do you want to go outside?" "Finway!" Abigail interjected as she separated herself from him. "It's freezing! We'd catch a cold!" He just kept starring at her, a smile on his face. "Are you coming?" "Alright, just let me get my coat…" "Get your coat? That would take too long, let's just go," Finway grabbed her and lifted her off the ground as he carried her toward a side door. It led them into the gardens, where there were several fountains and many bushes surrounding them. "I like the garden here," Finway complimented. Apart from one other couple by the evergreens, they were the only souls out that night. "It's not nearly as beautiful as the Palace's," Abigail rejected. Finway brought her to a bench beside a stone fountain before laying her upon it and sitting down himself. "Are you going to be back for a while?" Finway knew that that question was coming towards him, so he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "No, I won't be." She stared back at him, her glowing brown eyes widened with disbelief. Before she could ask why, he spoke again. "My last commission didn't even take two weeks, and so because it was so short the king wants to give me another as soon as possible." "Why?" she asked, shaking her head. "The king has plenty of young men to spare, why does he have to keep using you?" "I don't know," Finway said. "You've done plenty, you've helped Varrock many times, why can't he just send someone else?" "Well," Finway said jokingly, "I guess I just am better than the others." No sooner had he said it than he regretted it. She simply stared back at him with longing, her gorgeous brown eyes as large as ever before. "How can you joke about this? This is your life that's being…you know, being…" "Wasted?" Finway inquired, and there was a pause. "I don't know what it is, I just wish I could see you more." For a long moment he just held her in his arms, saddened by the fact that he would have to leave again, probably for a longer time than the last. "After this…after this I'll ask the king to…postpone any further adventures. That way, I'll have time to propose and we'll be able to get married. How does that sound?" "Finway, I don't want you to just be here when we get married, I want you to stay here while we are married." He nodded. "I'll do what I can." He turned her towards himself. "After this, I'll ask him to retire me so that I can settle down. My family owns plenty of land, so I can afford it." She smiled at him. "Where would we build our home?" "I'd like somewhere just east of here, close to the River Lum." "As would I," she leaned against his chest, but he turned her once more. "And one more thing," he told her. "What's that?" she asked. Neither of them spoke as their eyes closed and lips met. Chapter Two Finway's eyes opened, revealing his large master bedroom. He sighed as he leaned forward in his bed, remembering what had happened the night before. He felt great, but inwardly depressed that he had to receive another assignment from the king that day. When will it stop, he wondered to himself, when can I have peace from all these adventures? Outwardly, he was supposed to be a brave hero, always ready for a new quest or mission, but he knew that it could not go on forever. He soon got ready for the day before venturing down the stairway, into the foyer, and out of his home. Although the inside may have seemed small at times, the exterior of the house boasted of the glory of the Minarch line. Finway was honored to be of such a noble family, his forefathers being close friends and allies of the king, tracing back to the founding of the city. Another notable characteristic of his heritage was that, through his mother's side, he was partly barbarian. His great-grandfather had been a barbarian child taken in by a Varrock family. Many other influential families had such a connection with the foreign invaders, if they could be called that anymore. The Vanthin family, for instance, also held some barbarian blood. The day was much like it's predecessor: cool with the sun partly shining through the clouds from time to time. It illuminated the entire Southeastern corner of the city, the large homes and their spacious yards receiving plenty of light. The city of Varrock was very diverse, the Southwest and South central areas being characterized by poverty, gangs, and civil unrest. The Southeast and Northeast sections, however, were composed of carefully gated communities where the wealthy dwelt. The Northern section was overshadowed by the royal palace, and the Northwest was dominated by the massive Grand Exchange and the financial district. The adventurer continued pacing northward, towards the gateway that separated the secluded wealthy families from the rest of Varrock. A guard, without saying anything, recognized him and opened the gate as one of his comrade's stood by, spear at hand. On the other side, dozens of people scurried about, some heading for the gate, some heading towards the bank and the shops, and some just standing idly as they chatted. As he walked, he observed the famous smithy, run by a man known as Horvik. Horvik, along with his assistants at his guild, crafted the armor for many noblemen and knights throughout all of Misthalin. Finway himself had purchased his first sword there, and he remembered the time that he had gone in with his father to buy it. It was when he was thirteen, the year that his mother died. The sword was strongly wrought of steel, a fine blade. Of course, it had been replaced by Silverlight when Finway had slain Delrith as it was rumored to be incredibly powerful against such demons. He glanced at the shining saber at his side, the very one he had used three years ago for his first quest. It had served him faithfully since then, and he had no thoughts of acquiring a new blade. He then entered the marketplace, the crowded center of the bustling city. Shops lined the entire perimeter, the glorious fountain standing in the middle. Merchants were busy shouting things through the busy market, advertising their stalls behind them. Occasionally, someone would get caught stealing from the stalls, but only rarely-the guards on duty usually patrolled the area satisfactorily. "Halt," one of the royal guards said routinely as Finway neared the palace grounds. "Identify yourself." "Lord Finway Minarch," he raised his right hand, revealing a ring with the Minarch seal upon it. "Welcome back," the guard said, opening the gate to courtyard, just wide enough for Finway to step inside. The interior was, as usual, crowded with off-duty and patrolling guards alike. Walking through the line of trees, the young lord soon entered the interior courtyard, a large gathering place with a flat stone surface. Once again, Finway was stopped. This time, however, it was a fancily dressed knight adorned with a brilliant suit of steel armor. "Lord Minarch, is it?" the knight asked. "Yes, that is I," Finway responded. "I received this letter from the king after I returned from my last commission." He handed an envelope to the knight, who proceeded to read it. "Yes…yes, it has been three days," he folded the letter again and handed it to a guard nearby. "Three days is not long at all in between commissions, is it?" "No, sir," Finway replied, "but since my last one was so short-not even three weeks-the king has requested another of me shortly after my arrival." "I understand. Follow me," he motioned for Finway to accompany him, as well as a small unit of guards, into the Palace. A guard each held a door to the magnificent citadel open as the adventurer and his escort stepped into it. Once inside, they were greeted by a massive room with a double staircase, reminding Finway of the Vanthin mansion he had been at the night before. The knight began walking towards a large doorway in the west part of the palace, and so Finway followed. "Wait here," his escorting knight instructed as he stepped inside the court room of the king. Listening in, Finway heard him ask the court if they wished to see the young, adventurous lord. He heard some murmurs in the court before the door opened again. "The king will see you now." Finway had presented himself to the royal court many times before, but each time he felt a wave of nervousness. He tried to hard to suppress it, and he did manage to do so to some extent. Glancing around the courtyard, he noticed several notable figures. Geoffrey Diminus, too, was present, perhaps waiting in line to ask a favor of the king, perhaps receiving another assignment as Finway was. There were also several other figures, some of whom he could recognize, and others that he could not. "Ah, Finway!" The king smiled from his throne down onto him. Finway observed his carefully trimmed beard and moustache, truly royal in it's eloquence. "It's been quite short, hasn't it?" "Indeed it has, Your Majesty," he replied. "It hasn't yet been three weeks since I last sent you out, and again you impressed all of Varrock with the swiftness of your mission!" King Roald cried out with great joy. "What do you say to that, eh?" "My last mission was merely diplomatic business," Finway forced a grin. "It is my honor to serve the kingdom." He wasn't making it up, even though such honor had become tiring in the last three years for the young noble. "Talk to my minister afterwards to arrange a fitting reward, but as your last commission was indeed quite short, I have another one planned for you." There was a pause. Feeling the urge to speak in the silence, Finway inquired, "What is that, Your Majesty?" The king's smile beamed down upon the adventurer. "I have another…diplomatic mission for you. You are familiar with the people of Al Kharid, are you not?" "I have visited the region twice, Your Majesty. Does my next assignment bring me there?" "Indeed," the king began stroking his beard, turning towards his right, where a dark skinned, clean-shaven youth was standing, perhaps half a foot shorter than Finway and not as large. "Jamal," the king stated, "please explain the situation to our young Lord here." "Your Majesty," the boy, Jamal, bowed slightly to the king before facing Finway. With a thick Kharidian accent he began, "Well, you see, the people of Al Kharid are facing many difficulties with the Southern Bandits. They sometimes will sneak through the Pass of Shantay and raid the Kharidian people. This is something that must be solved, you see." "And am I to solve this?" Finway questioned. "Yes…" Jamal sat in thought, confused. "No…no, you don't." Several members of the court laughed, and Finway noticed that the boy was sweating from nervousness. The king simply stared onwards at them. "You see, I have realized that the bandits want four certain diamonds…" he stuttered, "…diamonds that were taken from them unjustly many years ago." "Do we know where those diamonds are at?" Finway asked. "Yes," Jamal replied, surprisingly confident. Before he could ask where, the young Kharidian boy opened a pouch, revealing four sparkling gemstones. "Here they are." The king was once again smiling atop his throne, and several of the court's members leaned over in astonishment. Finway's eyes widened, then narrowed again in confusion. "I traveled greatly around the world to obtain each one," he stated, a hint of pride in his otherwise nervous voice. "If…if you have the diamonds, then why am I needed?" "You see," King Roald adjusted himself in his seat as he spoke, "that's why I said it was a diplomatic mission. I want you to accompany Jamal to the southern bandits as a token of good will. I want to show that Misthalin doesn't want war with them." "Alright, I understand, Your Majesty," Finway spoke. "When does our envoy depart?" "I'd like you to leave as soon as possible," the king informed him. "Accompanying the two of you will be one of my magicians, Falken." A man wearing a wizard gown stepped forward. He was as short as Jamal but was quite large and plump, with a double chin extending from his neck. He reminded Finway of the wizards he had encountered before in his quests, yet the man seemed incomplete without a hat. Maybe I could buy one for him on the journey, he joked to himself. "Is there anything else you'd like for me to do, Your Majesty?" Finway inquired of the king. "Since this is just diplomacy and relations, I'll give you four weeks, and I want you to write a letter back once you reach Al Kharid, understood?" Finway nodded. "Alright, good. You may leave now. Jamal, Falken, you two are dismissed as well." King Roald waved them out of the court. "Come back with good news and don't disappoint me, Finway, you never have before!" Once he had exited the court, once again accompanied by the knight who had led him in, Finway turned to Falken and Jamal. "Do you need anything before we leave?" "No," Jamal muttered quietly. "I'd like a new staff," Falken scoffed, hitting his wooden rod lightly against the ground. "I've been stuck with this one for eighteen years, and the Royal Guard still hasn't allowed me to get another!" Before Finway could speak anything else, one of the king's royal ministers approached him. "Lord Finway!" he exclaimed, racing out onto the steps. "Lord Finway, aren't you forgetting something?" "Oh, yes, the reward," the young man sighed. "I suppose I'll go in and negotiate it. Falken, Jamal, wait for me in the courtyard." "'right," the fat mage turned, but Jamal continued to stare blankly, as if he didn't hear. Observing this, Falken hit him in the legs with his staff. "He said go, boy, so go!" Chapter Three The day was steaming with heat, as were most days from the spring to autumn in the region of Al Kharid. Finway's feet were killing him, and he knew that Jamal and Falken felt similarly. "Damn heat," the overweight mage commented. The blue fabric composing his robes was beginning to fade as the sun beat down upon it. Finway's red traveling shirt faced similar problems. Jamal, obviously accustomed to such difficulties that living in the desert bore, was well-prepared, wearing a brown tunic that nearly matched his skin. The party had made it to the border of the desert by the end of the first day, but afterwards their progress had been impedingly slow. They spent one night at a local oasis, and the next at the duel arena, where they had gotten used to the site of blood on the mats they had borrowed. That past night they had been guests of the Hassan in Al Kharid, where they were treated to a feast as they were greeted as the 'redeemers' of the desert, ones sent by Saradomin himself to solve the problem of the bandits that plagued the city. They had thought that the northern desert had been hot, but south of the Shantay pass was significantly worse. They had stacked themselves with completely filled water skins, but they had still had found the need to cut cacti open for the precious liquid held inside the thorny plant. "Al Kharid was nothing compared to this," Finway stated, hoping to start a conversation, but the others were too hot and bogged down in sweat, and they had no interest in speaking. Thoughts briefly drifted the young lord regarding various things, but not of his wonders were consistent. As the sun brightly sent it's raging rays upon the sandy soil, he tried to find something to think clearly of, something to truly grasp and take from, but his reflections always were coming and going. The second he solidified something to really think about, the thought went out on a tangent, serving no purpose whatsoever. Perhaps, we wondered to himself, it is the sun that is preventing me from thinking clearly. Among his many ponderings was the thought of his future life. It seemed assumed to him that he would marry Abigail eventually, as he had courted her for several years, and all of her responses were positive. The only problem was, when? Maybe she has gotten tired of me and my lifestyle, he thought briefly. After all, Geoffrey Diminus had taken a liking to her as well. However, he too was an adventurer under the king's commission. If she had gotten tired of him, why would she have gotten tired of Finway? She seemed happy with him at the ball, the Varrockian noble rubbed his face in thought. This attracted the brief attention of Falken. Suddenly, Finway's mind took a turn towards the later portion of that night, where he had taken her outside. Surely the occurrences that night were an expression of their love, but he never was sure. All things considered, his reminisces and accompanying thoughts were inconclusive; he was not sure on which path to take to further shape his life. All that he was certain of was that the king would be waiting upon his return to lay yet another quest upon him. After continuing on for some time, when the setting sun was partially blinding them from the west, they spotted an encampment in the distance. "What is that?" Finway questioned. "Whatever it is, they better have real water, and not just this cactus filth," Falken exclaimed rudely. After a slight pause, the young lord turned to his right, towards the mage and Jamal. "Well? Do you know what it is?" he asked. "Yes," Jamal stated timidly, his face growing tense and he started sweating again. After another silent moment, he began again, "I think that is the bandit camp." "You look nervous," Falken observed. "What have you got to hide?" "I have something to tell you both," "Well of course you do, out with it!" the mage demanded. Finway responded to him with a glare before turning back towards Jamal. "I am not from Al Kharid," he spoke silently, leaving the other two wide-eyed. "This is my home-I am a bandit." "You stupid boy! You led us into a trap, you-!" Falken raised his staff and struck the boy in the jaw, causing him to spit out blood. In a flurry of anger, totally uncharacteristic of him, Jamal withdrew his curved scimitar and attempted to strike him. Afraid, the mage ushered in a wind spell, stirring the sandy ground and knocking the boy down. Before things could get any worse, Finway withdrew his sword. "Enough! You two, stop this!" Both of them just stared at him. "This is not a trap," Jamal explained with his accented voice, sheathing his saber. "I truly did need the diamonds to appease my fellow bandits, and they will cease with the raids. There is only one thing I did not tell you." Finway and Falken glanced at each other, and Finway attempted to swallow his fears away as silently as possible. "What is it?" he asked. "These diamonds will free a certain…creature…" "Oh, and I suppose this creature will do the bidding of the king, won't it?" Falken sarcastically remarked, his staff gripped tightly. "No," Jamal said, misinterpreting the mage's tone. "It is not a creature…he is more of a…hero," he tried to explain. "Finway," Falken turned to the young noble, attempting to sound as reasonable as possible, "don't trust this boy! He's lied to us so far, how do we know there isn't a trap waiting for us in that encampment?" Finway hesitated for a moment before he opened his mouth. "Why would he lie to us this far, and just tell us the truth now?" He looked back at Jamal, who was starring directly at him with his dark, brown eyes. "I am trying to keep you alive," Jamal's words were short and simple. Although Finway sensed the reluctance of the royal mage, he knew that the boy was truthful. "There's no other explanation, now let's go complete this mission that the king has given us," Finway concluded, appealing to the mage's sense of loyalty. "I'm not one to go against a royal order." "The second I sense anything strange, I'm leaving," the mage commented. "Listen carefully," Jamal spoke silently as they began pacing towards the village once more, "remove all of your gear that bears any religious significance…my people will kill you if they find that you worship a foreign god." Finway glanced down at himself, and, noticing his Saradomin Symbol around his neck, removed the pendent and placed it in his bag. "Foreign?" Falken seemed alarmed. "Who do you worship here?" He placed his hand roughly on Finway's shoulder and leaned in. "If their Zamorakian," he whispered, "they'll slit our throats in our sleep!" Simply ignoring the remark, he continued on. Within several minutes the trio had reached the bandit camp. There were only two souls in sight: a black-cloaked man sitting in front of a tent, and a white-robed woman that exited her home, but then went back inside once she spotted them. The man continued to stare at them, his face as dark as Jamal's, but with a thick brown beard accompanying it. The wind started kicking up, and a wave of sand passed between the encampment and the travelers. Once they had entered the sandy center of the camp, they stopped. The desert bandits, men and women alike, began peering from their windows, and some even dared exit their homes to better observe these newcomers. "Jamal," one of the men, a larger one with a dark beard, approached them. His smile was weak, but it faded altogether once he got a better look at the two accompanying the boy. "Who are they?" he asked harshly. "They wish to…help us free Azzanadra, Uncle Elbis," the boy said, revealing four diamonds from a pouch on his belt. They were colored red, black, dark green, and a shimmering, pure white. Finway glanced at Falken. If he said something, it could mean doom for the two of them. Fortunately, the mage kept his mouth shut. "Alright, then they are welcome here," the man said, although his joy seemed forceful at best. "You two," he motioned towards two men standing nearby idly aware of the situation, "take their bags up to their quarters for the night." He turned back towards his nephew. "Do you need anything for the night, my boy?" "Just a room for me and my two friends," Jamal replied. "Tomorrow we will go to free Azzanadra." "And once that is done, Jamal, we will celebrate. Tonight you will rest, but first you must tell me of your travels." "They are many," he commented, and Finway sensed his ease while around this man, his apparent uncle. "First, can you show us where we might stay?" "Yes, yes, immediately," the man briskly stated, not glancing back at his nephew. There was something dreadfully strange about this location, although neither of the two Varrockian citizens could put their fingers on it. The meeting between uncle and nephew was short, although it had probably been months, if not years, since they had seen each other. The friendliness was not genuine; instead, it was an almost eerie type of forced behavior that frightened both Finway and Falken. With these suspicions in mind, the two cautiously followed their dark skinned companion into their quarters. Chapter Four Finway woke up the next morning after he heard a loud pounding on his door. "Get up, you are to leave soon!" the voice shouted bluntly. Obeying the command, the adventurer nudged his companion, Falken, awake as well. "Couldn't sleep at all…" the mage muttered as he stretched his plump arms. "As if the heat isn't bad enough during the day, it's ice-cold all night!" Ignoring the remark, Finway paused, glancing out of the window. It faced west, down onto the village, so as he looked through it he saw Jamal exiting a tent, presumably where he had stayed the night at. Quickly getting himself dressed, Finway left the room and headed down the crude wooden ladder, closely followed by the mage. Once the two had arrived in the main room of the adobe home, Jamal entered through the red curtain that served a doorway. "Are you ready?" he asked them. "Yes," Finway stated, and the mage nodded grudgingly. With that, the trio exited the household and stepped into the sandy center of the bandit village. The place seemed empty, as it had the previous day, but there was something unusual about it, something that made the place seem deserted entirely, although they knew that that wasn't the case. Even Jamal appeared to have a worried look on his face. "Is something wrong?" Falken asked, surprisingly calm. "No," Jamal forcefully stated. "I hope not." Changing the subject, Finway cleared his throat. "Which way are we going?" "Over there, just beyond the cliffs," Jamal pointed towards the ridges south-east of the encampment. It appeared to be several miles away, but they still seemed impressive. "There is a small pathway that will shorten the journey, just follow me." After continuing on for several long minutes, the cliffs not seeming to get any closer, Falken spoke, wiping the sweat from his thick brow. "Where exactly are we going?" he rudely commented. Finway felt strangely at ease seeing the mage return to his normal self, as he felt that the strange uneasiness that had previously descended upon them had been lifted. "There is a pyramid, that's what we are looking for," replied Jamal calmly. "Pyramid?" Falken scoffed, glancing towards Finway. "What is that?" "What does it look like?" The young adventurer clarified. "Like a pointed shrine, made of stone," Jamal attempted to explain. His efforts were in vain, for when he looked back at the two they seemed just as confused as before. "You will see." Although Falken sneered, Finway accepted the answer, not wishing to embarrass Jamal further. By noon, they had almost reached the top of the ridge. The pathway that they followed Jamal on was much less steep than the actual cliffs, but it still was quite a climb for the three. "I'm out of water," Falken remarked. Finway absent-mindedly tossed him his own water skin. "Don't worry, we are close," Jamal consoled the two as they all stopped to take a small break. Resting on a large boulder, Finway noticed a small pointed object peaking just above the rocks. "I think I see it." "Do you see a point?" Jamal asked, a slight grin on his face. The adventurer nodded in reply. "Let's go!" Finway shouted enthusiastically. "Give me a moment's rest, for Saradomin's sake!" Falken cried, although he, too, felt a certain degree of exultation that they would soon reach their destination. Finway and Jamal half jogged, half ran towards the top, the mage close behind. However, once the former two saw the downward slant towards the pyramid, their delight immediately ceased. It was not the pinnacled shrine that ended their joy, but the men that stood near the base of it. There must have been forty, all clothed in bright white robes, clubs and scimitars in their hands. "What are they doing here?" Falken asked, confused. His bewilderment was shared by Finway, who also turned towards Jamal. The bandit boy turned back at them, a frozen masque of terror upon his visage. Amongst the bandits was Jamal's very uncle. His own countenance had a look of disgust and hatred on it. "What is it, Uncle Elbis?" Jamal inquired, worried. Elbis had crossed his arms. "You said that they were going to help free Azzanadra," Jamal's uncle raised his head with repulsion. "They are, uncle, what is the problem?" "This," unfolding his arm, he let the shiny symbol of Saradomin slip from his wrist. The white, four pointed cross struck the dust. The trio stared with awe and confusion at the religious emblem. "How did you-" Finway's brow furrowed. "We searched your bags, and found it in his," he pointed at the Varrockian adventurer. Jamal turned towards his party, then back towards his uncle once more. "Uncle, you must stand back, you've witnessed my magical power." The statement surprised them all: Jamal did not appear to be a wizard of any sorts. "True, I sent you to the academy in Al Kharid," he retorted, "and you were very well trained. But I understand where your power comes from. That is why I broke your wand." Neither Finway nor Falken had seen the object before, so their curiosity came before their concern. However, if Jamal's anxiety was noticeable before, it multiplied tenfold. "My wand?" "Broken," reiterated Elbis. "You're magical potency does not exist without it." "Uncle, I can…I can explain-" "-there is nothing to be explained, Jamal!" Elbis declared boldly, his volume and anger rising. "No man who worships foreign gods can leave our encampment, this is one of our most sacred laws! For this you three will die." Dozens of bandits began approaching them. "Why did you not kill us down there in the camp, then?" Falken spoke up, his last act of defiance. "Why did you make us crawl up these cliffs, and then ambush us?" "If we struck down there, you would have been well rested and would be able to make an escape. Because we rose early this day to get up here, we have had time to recuperate our strength while you are weak." "But you outnumber us!" Finway declared, upset. "Why would that matter?" "We know that you are no ordinary travelers. I myself trained one of you," Elbis glanced at Jamal, then towards Falken, "and we know that you are a mage, as well." A bright look in his eye, Finway quickly turned towards his stout companion. "Conjure up a spell, get us out of here!" "He's right," the wizard responded solemnly. "I'm too weak right now to cast any powerful spells." "I thought you could do without rest! You're a mage, you have runes!" "It does, but runes without rest mean nothing!" The bandits began encircling the adventurers, who tried to back out, but found that they could not. Several archers appeared in their midst. "Good-bye, Jamal," Elbis sighed, and he, too, withdrew his weapon: a shining, brilliant scimitar. A tear running down his cheek, Jamal removed his own curved blade. The two weapons clashed in the air, and soon several men were upon Falken and Finway, hostile to the fullest. The mage attempted to cast a fire spell but he was quickly struck down; as he had stated before, he was too tired for his magic to be effective. Finway's shining blade, Silverlight, was unsheathed as it's blade crashed upon the bandits' weaponry. The metal clanged as it met and screeched as they slid apart for a split second before the next blow was delivered. Noticing that he was surrounded, the adventurer swung the blade beneath his hands to deliver an uppercut with such force that his aggressor fell to the ground, his club shattered. Turning back to his original foe, Finway quickly turned the point of the blade one hundred-eighty degrees and thrust it at the bandit. The man parried the blow and drove it to Finway's left, so the adventurer used the force already driving the blade the chop it into the sides of the bandits further encompassing him. With the second he gained from his swift action, he glanced around at his comrades. Falken had seemed to be doing well defending the bandits, but the archers had finally found a clear shot: two arrows pierced the mage's robes, spilling his crimson life onto the earth. Jamal seemed to be fighting gallantly, but finally one of his attacker's clubbed the back of his head, effectively knocking him to the earth where they proceeded to cease his being. Finally, all eyes were on Finway; his momentary rest was over as he prepared to meet his fate. He drew Silverlight back as he grasped it tightly, ready to strike down the next aggressor the made eye contact. His senses became heightened, yet all still appeared to be a blur as his eyesight rushed around at the bandits, examining their now blood-stained robes, their roughened hair, their wide eyes, their sweaty brows. His head rose as he took a step forward, ready to fight to the death. Unexpectedly, all eyes turned towards the south-east, from where a camel-backed rider appeared. Finway glanced over, but it was his mistake: two clubbed men instant fell upon him. Unable to hold them back, Finway instantly fell to the ground. Felt one of the men club his abdomen, knocking the air from his diaphragm. Suddenly, the adventurer sensed a strong heat pass of his neck, and then he saw that one of the bandits' robes had strangely caught fire. The earth proceeded to shake. From the earth just inches below his weary head he saw the scene unfold through his blurry eyes. The men were in an uproar, and it seemed as if all the attention had been temporarily taken off of Finway as they attempted to slay the camel riding sorcerer. Their attempts were no avail, as he continued to conjure up the magic necessary to defeat them all. It seemed like only a moment before the bandits' threat to Finway's life had ended: they were either dead or had disappeared into the desert sands as they fled from the magician's wrath. Turning upside right, the blazing sun blinded him. The adventurer then unexpectedly felt a searing pain in his eye as the gateway to his soul became blinded by a stinging sensation. He cried out in pain, not understanding what had caused half his vision to disappear. He heard the camel rider walking nearby, and a cold sweat came over him. He attempted to calm himself down, and for a moment he believed he was successful. He got on his hands and knees, his right hand over it's respective eye, and then he tried to stand up. His endeavor failed, his body weak and his mind in disarray, and the ground rose up to meet him. His last memory before slipping into blackness was that of a camel groaning, and the voice of an old man, gently saying, "easy there," as he laid a hand on Finway's shoulder. Chapter Five Finway's eyes opened up, an isolated stinging sensation in his right eye. Within a moment, the adventurer recalled the events that had happened to him. Sitting up, realizing that he was in a clean, white bed. He leapt out of it, only to be knocked down by a crashing wave of vertigo. He stuck his hands out, managing to half-catch himself from striking the wooden floor beneath his feet. Tiny bright lights dominated his vision, at first blindfolds, then a dim light could be seen in the center of his vision. Soon, the dots became but glasses, a lens by which to see the world. Another moment passed before his sight returned to normal, and he succeeded in pulling himself back up into the bed. When he did so, he succumbed to exhaustion, and once more laid down upon the bed. Suddenly, he heard a noise, causing him to sit up. Before a moment had passed, an orange robed man with short, silver hair walked into the room, a tray in hand. Finway glanced around in search of his sword, but he saw it nowhere. "Who are you?" he asked, in a half-harsh, half-curious voice. "Saraboam," the robed figure replied nonchalantly, not glancing at the adventurer. He approached a small table near the bed and set the tray down, revealing a strange cup filled with a dark brown liquid and a wooden plate with a large biscuit. "I'm sorry this isn't much of a meal, but your stomach injury will prevent you from eating certain foods for the next few days." "You didn't answer my question," Finway stated, his eyebrows nearly touching in confusion. Saraboam turned towards him with a perplexed a countenance. "I mean," he tried to explain, "I know your name now, Saraboam-?" he reassured he knew the name, and the man nodded, thick white eyebrows furrowed and wrinkles upon his face. "What I meant was, what happened? The last I remember, I was lying half dead in the sand, and then someone came, and-" "I came," Saraboam interrupted. "What happened to my eye?" Finway asked, not pausing between questions. "That, I'm afraid," the mage sighed, "was my own fault. After I came to your aid, my camel mistakenly took you for an adversary, and he accordingly spat at you." "Spat?" Finway inquired. "Yes," was his simple response. "The Ugthanki camel has poisonous spit, and it's venom got in your eye. It's all red and swollen, now, and I'm not sure how long that will last." "Alright." There was a pause in the conversation. Suddenly, he remembered his weapon's absence. "What did you do with my sword?" "It was severely damaged, I'm afraid," commented the mage. "One of the bandits broke it, and I saw it's shards lying near you. I saw no use in bringing the remains of it back." Once more, an almost awkward silence entered the conversation, but neither really noticed. Finway in particular was unaffected, still in shock over the events that had occured; nothing, in all of his previous experiences, had ever ammounted to this. "You used…" Finway hesitated, "…magic, correct? Those were actual spells you were casting, weren't they?" "You shouldn't be too surprised," he said in reply. "You're friend, the pompous one, was a magician as well." "I'm aware of that, but he didn't even attempt to use his powers." "Use his powers?" scoffed the mage. "Of course he wouldn't. Most wizards rely solely on their physical capacity for their magic, in addition to the runes. With such state of affairs, one shouldn't even try to cast a spell while exhausted; they'll simply kill themselves trying." The young man nodded, comprehending his late companion's lack of prowess. "How long was I asleep for?" "You were unconscious-in a coma I believe-for three days, if my memory serves me correctly. Your rushing heart beat was the only reason I knew you were alive." Finway stared, wide-eyed in disbelief. Had it really been that long? "Now, who are you?" the mage said abruptly. For the first time, Finway noticed that there was no smile, not hint of hospitality on his face. It almost distracted him entirely from replying. "Oh, forgive me, I am Lord Finway Minarch of Varrock," the lord responded, attempting to sound as professional as possible. "A lord, eh?" Saraboam raised an eyebrow. "Such fancy titles mean nothing here, I'm afraid, at least not until we get back through the Shantay Pass." "Where are we now?" Finway questioned. "We are in my home, in Pollniveach, several miles east of your last…excursion." "You mean the ambush?" "What it was, I'm not sure," the mage said, "all I know is that I arrived just in time to save you." "Why?" their eyes met. "Why did I save you? Because I witnessed the whole thing, and I know of the bandit's brutality. I have something of a quarrel with them myself." Shocked, Finway pushed him further, ignoring the second statement of his savior. "You saw us being attacked?" "Yes, I saw you." "But, from where?" "If you really must know," Saraboam sighed, "I was praying at the shrine I built on the mount just east of the pyramid. It was an odd coincidence, as I only travel there once every month. When I saw the bandits gather there, I knew something suspicious was going on, and so I took a path down towards them. It looks like my suspicions paid off, so to speak." "I have so many questions, so many uncertainties…why has this happened to me?" "Fate is not written, you chose it yourself." Saraboam spoke strongly, seemingly passionate about his beliefs. "Either way," Finway took a deep breath, "I'm confused. The bandits attacked us because they found my Symbol of Saradomin. Why would they do this?" "Perhaps they do not take kindly to foreign religions," outwardly out of place, Saraboam made a gesture to the tray, and Finway took a bite of the biscuit before tasting the drink. "It's not secret that you northerners persecute the Zamorakians, and they are, in fact, as native to the land as you Saradominists." "True," he replied, "but their ideals are distorted, any one can see that. Society must have order, chaos leads to lawlessness and immorality." "Does it?" the magician asked. It then appeared as if he realized his idle standing, and he began walking towards the door. "One moment, please." He exited the room, but within a few minutes he entered through the doorway once more. This time, he bore a chair in one hand and a crumpled heap of notes in the other. "To answer your question," Finway stated, "Chaos is a pathway leading from stability to discord and thus destruction. Without proper laws and structure in a society, it will crumble upon itself, a mess of immorality and injustice." "Do not immorality and injustice exist today in your society?" "Yes, they do, but not on the same scale as what the Zamorakians would have." "I disagree," Saraboam refuted. "I believe that a society based on either order or chaos will only function as long as each and every one of it's members agree with that ideal. It's the same for everything." "Well, which would you have," the adventurer inquired, "order or chaos?" "Preferably neither, but to each man his own," For the first time, Finway saw Saraboam smile, a conclusive tone in his voice. "What's that?" Finway asked, pointing to the papers loosely held together by a small leather knot. "I was hoping you could tell me," Saraboam's grin faded and he stared intently at the crumpled heap in his hands. "I found them in your friend's bag when he died, and their contents are quite shocking." "Jamal's bag? He was the one who was darker, a native to these lands." "Yes, that was the one," Saraboam nodded, "Jamal, you say? Yes, it appears as if he has had quite the exploits in this world of ours." "What do you mean?" Finway asked, confused. In his short travels with Jamal, he had never really learned of the boy's background or past. "I know he was a mage, but I did not learn that until it was revealed during the ambush." "He was a very powerful mage, trained at the same academy that I myself attended. Of course, I saw his broken wand after I rescued you, but anyway" he continued, "tell me, are you familiar with the Mahjarrat?" "The Mahjarrat?" he asked. "Yes, the demons of old. They are all dead, an extinct race they, are they not?" "No, I'm afraid you're quite mistaken." Saraboam solemnly shook his head. "They are alive, and according to your friend, Jamal's, entries in these notes, their actions still greatly affect our realm." "Who are they? I've never seen nor heard of a living Mahjarrat; where I come from, Misthalin, they are only the talk of tales and myths." The aged mage thought for a moment. "Tell me, have you ever heard of Zemouregal?" "Yes, I have," Finway's attention changed dramatically as he recognized the name, "the Scourge of Avarrocka, a Zamorakian chieftain from the Fourth Age." His eyes widened. "He was a Mahjarrat?" "Indeed, and a powerful one, too. In fact, he is still alive today." "So they are immortal?" "The Mahjarrat?" Saraboam recollected. "No, they are incredibly powerful, but the eternal chains of death bind their race as well us ours, thus preventing them from immortality and the divinity of gods. However, this should not detract from their strength: the weakest of their number could obliterate a hundred human armies." "How many of them are alive?" "At least a dozen, if Jamal's notes are correct. Do the names Hazeel, Khazard, and Lucien sound familiar to you at all?" "I know that Hazeel was a warlord in Kandarin, and Khazard was one of his successors," Finway replied honestly. "Calling them warlords is an understatement. They, too, are Mahjarrat, and it appears as though King Lathas of Kandarin has taken a blind eye to their undertakings." "But Hazeel has been dead for a hundred years!" "Dead? No, it takes much more effort than an assassination to kill a Mahjarrat. His physical form had been put to rest, but his spirit had not been sent to the void. It appears that, once more according to Jamal, that he has been brought back into this world by his cult of followers. Khazard, although a powerful general on the outside, is young by Mahjarrat standards; he is but a pupil under Hazeel's tutelage." There was a moment of silence, Finway attempting to soak in all the knowledge that had just been shared. Finally, he spoke up. "Who was that last name you mentioned?" "The last name was Lucien, and it appears as though he is the one we must fear the most." "Why is that?" "Jamal states in his notes that he has obtained an object of incredible potency: the Stone of Jas. Such a powerful artifact is no mere talisman, for it has the capacity to throw a mere mortal to divinity." Finway's eyes widened in disbelief. "How?" "First," Saraboam began, "one must obtain the stone itself. According to these papers, it was protected in Guthix's temple by disciples of Guthix, Saradomin, and Armadyl alike. Its power is extreme, granting great strength and temporary immortality to any who come near it, and because of that, the three gods' followers all thought it best to keep any from obtaining it. It appears as though their efforts were fruitless, as Lucien has taken the stone for himself." "How is this possible?" Finway asked direly. "Wouldn't the stone be aptly defended?" "It's hard for a band of humans to fend off Mahjarrat and other demons, so their greatest advantage, I have no doubt, was the secrecy of the location." "Where was it hidden?" "That, my friend," Saraboam replied, "I do not know. Jamal's notes do not tell." "Well, if his power is only temporary, why should we worry about it?" "Because, once more according to the notes, Lucien ahs obtained a way of storing the power: the staff of Armadyl, a very powerful object from the second age." "I've heard of him-Armadyl. He was a god, wasn't he?" "Was a god? He still is one, it's just that his following has fallen after being decimated by the Godwars." There was another pause, and Finway glanced away, once more attempting to fathom all that had been said. "Who are the other Mahjarrat that are still alive?" The wizard took a deep breath. "You know that pyramid, the temple, you were near when you were attacked?" Finway nodded, still wide-eyed. "Yes." "That was the dwelling place of Azzanadra, the most powerful Mahjarrat ever to have lived." If Finway was surprised at the knowledge he had learned just previously, his shock expanded to a much more intimate relation with him. He opened his mouth, yet no words came out. "We-we…we almost freed him!" "Why so surprised?" Once more, the adventurer's eyebrows nearly touched. "Why shouldn't I be surprised? It's a miracle that the bandits attacked us when they did!" "Don't say such things," Saraboam cut in sharply. "Not all of the Mahjarrat are as evil and destructive as you would like to believe." "They must be! How else-why else would they constantly attack and pester mankind?" Finway stood up, his temper rising. "Do humans not do the same amongst themselves?" "Yes, but not one the same scale!" Saraboam grimaced, and there was momentary silence. "If humans had the powers of the Mahjarrat, would they not commit similar atrocities?" Finway sat down, his head hung downwards in shame. "I suppose they would." He forced himself to gaze once more at his robed rescuer. "What other Mahjarrat must we be concerned with." "Jhallan, a coward who dwells in the north, had an encounter with Jamal, and-" "Wait, an 'encounter'?" Finway once more interjected. "That's impossible! How did Jamal survive?" "As I said before," Saraboam stated, increasingly frustrated, "not all Mahjarrat are as evil as you believe them to be." "But are they necessarily friendly?" "They can be." "This is incredible. It's just that," he began, "the perception in my land is that they are vile, horrid creatures that delight in human suffering." "I'm sure some are," he expressed, "however, certainly not all of them." Finway was completely taken back; Jamal was magically gifted and had known so much, but he had shared so little in the week that they had traveled together. What an adventure his life must have been, thought the adventurous lord. After a brief moment, he opened his mouth once more. "How do we know which Mahjarrat are good and which ones aren't?" "It depends on a variety of factors." "Such as?" Finway pressed. "Religion, race, social values and such." Once more, a silent pause came over the two. "So they are not united?" "United, as in…?" the mage questioned further. "What I mean to say is, do they all share in similar beliefs?" "No, not at all. In fact, there is a huge division since the fall of Zaros." "Zaros? The ancient god?" The adventurer had heard of the god in his various quests, but very few people knew much about him. In fact, knowledge of him was seemingly suppressed. "Yes," Saraboam smiled once more, perhaps at Finway's lack of familiarity with such names. "The ancient god." "Did he not die during the Godwars?" "He died before the Godwars, on the eve of their awakening and destruction." "If he died, why do they worship him still?" "When a god 'dies,' he is simply banished from the realm. There is always a possibility that they can be brought back from another dimension." "What will that take?" "Much power, which I'm sure they don't possess at the moment." "So what created this division after Zaros' fall?" "Well," Saraboam stated, "they were all followers of Zaros until he was overthrown." "By Zamorak, wasn't it?" "Yes, that is how the story goes. But did you know that he, too, was a Mahjarrat?" Finway's head shook. "No, I did not know that." "Yes, and many, probably most, of the Mahjarrat chose to follow him instead of remaining loyal to Zaros, the old god, and thus the conflict started: Zamorakian traitors versus the Zarosian loyalists." "You speak bitterly of Zamorak," Finway observed. "Yes," for the second time, Saraboam smiled. "That is because I am a Zarosian." The young lord was surprised, but he did not let it show. "I am a Saradominist." "Obvious from the symbol you had, the symbol that the bandits found and tried to kill you for." "Yes, yes," he opened his mouth to speak, "but tell me, why have you aided me so much if we do not have the same interests?" "We do." His savior's reply was short and simple. "I don't understand." Saraboam leaned in. "You and I both have one thing in common: opposition to Zamorak." "I've never really been passionate in my beliefs, I must confess to you, but-" "Then why have them?" "Why have what? Beliefs?" The mage nodded in response to Finway's question. "Well, I don't know, I've just always had them." "They are not really beliefs if you do not truly believe in them, wouldn't you say?" Perplexed, Finway nodded. "I suppose you're right." "Anyways," the mage said, "will you at least accompany me to the pyramid of Azzanadra?" "To free him, as was Jamal's goal?" "Yes, that would be the reason." He gulped. "Is he a…friendly Mahjarrat?" "To those who do not act impulsive and foolish, I'm sure he will be." "I do not wish to go," Finway admitted, "but I know that I owe you for saving my life. Yes, I will go with you to the pyramid." "Alright, then get some rest. We won't leave tomorrow, but within the next few days we shall certainly depart." Chapter Six Several days after initially coming around, Finway woke up, at first perplexed by his humble environment. However, it all flooded back to him in a moment as his memories returned. Everything seemed so much more tangible and genuine then before the ambush. As he looked back, everything-from his childhood to his last dance with Abigail-seemed so ethereal. Abigail, thought Finway, as he wondered how she was. He had scarcely thought of her since his departure from Varrock. He had thought that the journey would only last around two weeks, and he had been absent for nearly that length of time already. The more he thought about it, the more Finway realized that he had taken his relationship with her for granted. She longed to settle down, and he would be lying if he had said that wasn't his desire, but there was something about adventure he couldn't give up, some part of his commissions that he needed to keep. All of his other undertakings for the king had turned out to be trivial, and any successes he had were based off of either luck or were because of his strong assistance during his exploits. On the way south, towards the Al Kharid and, later, the bandit camp, he never would have thought about anything so in depth. The journey from Varrock had seemed so brief when he thought of it, and it lacked depth: he had not taken the time to properly plot out his life, only thought about it briefly. What Finway truly wished for was one last quest, a magnum opus that he would remember forever. Once that could be achieved, his desire would be fulfilled and he would be able to settle down with his lover, his Abigail. He had never thought this much about his life before, and he had simply let his earthly time pass by. Regret filled Finway's mind, regret that he had not entertained such notions earlier, and regret that he had entered a cycle of questing for the king that would be quite difficult to break. "Good morning," the mage greeted Finway as he entered the door, abruptly ending the adventurer's train of thought. "Good morning," he replied. "How did you sleep?" "Well, I suppose." The mage carefully set the tray of food down. Today, however, was different: instead of simple biscuits and tea, there was a steaming, spicy kebab on the platter. "I figured that your stomach should have healed by now, but how is your eye?" "It stills stings quite a bit," Finway admitted. Saraboam stared at it for a brief moment. "The swelling appears to have gone down quite substantially, but it's still very, very bright red. The acid saliva must have leached under your skin." "Do you have any idea how long it will take to heal?" he asked. "I mean, from experience or anything?" The wizard simply laughed. "I've never treated one of my camel's victims before, I'm afraid." Finway, too, grinned, appreciating the mage's sense of humor. "Tell me, what is your life in Varrock like?" Saraboam questioned quite unexpectedly. "Well, it's quite…" Finway searched for the right description in his mind, thinking critically, "…restless. As a young noble, I'm expected to perform many tasks and commissions for the king and his court, and it is very difficult to refuse-" "Have you ever tried?" Saraboam interrupted. "Well, no, but it just seems like it would be problematic," the adventurer explained, and the mage nodded, apparently understanding. "Anyway, I own a large home in the southwestern corner of the city, so when I stay in it-which is only about every other month or so-it's quite comfortable. Have you ever been to Varrock?" The magician nodded. "Yes, several times, actually. I was partially schooled in magic there when I was a youth. Now tell me, what do you do to afford such a living? Do the king's commissions pay well?" "No, although they do sometimes have rewards," Finway took a deep breath. "My father, before he passed into the void, was very concerned with my mother's and my own well being. He owned much river-side farmland south of the city, and he had also invested in a large lumber mill in the north-west woods. He rented the land out to farmers, and was quite successful because of the River Lum's fertility, and the investments in the mill have multiplied tenfold." "Interesting, interesting…" the mage nodded. "Do all noble families send their young men to the king for such perilous quests?" "Many do, but not all," the adventurer explained. "Some of the families allow their children to grow fat and pompous, and they receive jobs in the bank, or else managerial duties in one of the many businesses. Because I was orphaned at a young age, I had not the knowledge of my family's connections, so I trained most of the my life and was privately educated to become a seemingly perfect adventurer." "And are you?" The question came as a blow to Finway's own self-esteem, an inquiry that he himself had never made before. "I'm not perfect by any means, but I suppose that I am a good adventurer." "One of the best?" He thought for a moment, starring at the mage's olive eyes. He considered the others like him in the palace court, such as Geoffrey Diminus, and how King Roald himself always seemed to favor him over them. "Yes, I suppose I am." "Anyway," Saraboam said, changing the subject, "I think that leaving today would be the best option." "Alright," Finway replied. "How soon should we leave?" "As soon as we can," the magician stated, and the adventurer believed it; his attitude did not make for dawdling. "I can leave right now." "All the better," the wizard smiled, "I've been packed since earlier this morning. Gather your belongings and we'll leave for the pyramid." "Will we be returning?" "No, I don't believe so." "So then let us depart." The two soon left the mage's home, and for the first time Finway saw what the town of Pollniveach actually looked like. Each house looked similar, with white adobe walls, sometimes a wooden fence for those who owned camels, and curtains that stood in each entryway and window. The humble village was surprisingly filled with people; a dark-skinned child played with a toy horse outside one home, while a man desperately tried to calm his camel outside of another. Towards the center of the town were a collection of buildings that formed a square around a marketplace, where a few souls traded goods. Overall, the place looked as peaceful and ethereal as any location could get. "It's so…otherworldly…" Finway remarked. Saraboam grinned at him. "It is, the two gangs haven't been causing much trouble lately." "Gangs? You mean, gangs of thieves and murderers?" "Yes, I do means gangs of such people," the mage clarified. "There are only two of them in Pollniveach, but they are relatively weak. They hold influence in the town, yes, but they rarely enact it." "We have two major gangs in Varrock," Finway replied. "Really? I remember one of them…the Phoenix Gang, I believe. Is that still in existence?" "Yes, but it split," explained the adventurer. "There is now another, called the Black Arm Gang." "Is that so?" Saraboam seemed strangely interested. Finway turned toward him, but then glanced forward, at the vast landscape opening in front of his eyes. "What prompted them to divide themselves?" "They had stolen an invaluable object from the Varrock museum, the Shield of Arrav. Afterwards, they had a disagreement regarding what to do with it, so they split up. In one of their battles, the shield itself was broken, and each gang received one half." "What a pity that such a treasured object would be demeaned by such thugs and thieves," Saraboam remarked. With pride, Finway spoke, "I agree. In fact, the king commissioned me to bring back both halves, and I managed to do so." "Is that so?" the mage seemed pleasantly surprised. "How did you do it?" "First, I befriended a wary Black Arm Gang member, one who longed to leave the gang safely. I promised him Royal protection, and he managed to obtain half of the shield. Then, I myself joined the Phoenix Gang. I had to sneak into one of their back rooms in their hideout, and then stole the shield from a chest." "I expect the king handsomely rewarded the two of you?" "Me, yes," Finway hesitated, "the gang member whom I had befriend was not." "What happened to him?" the two turned towards each other again, their eyes meeting. Finway's eyes filled with some sort of anguish. He gulped. "He was taken by the guards sent to protect him, where he was tried for several murders. He was found guilty, and was hung the next day." Remorse filled the young lord's voice. After a while, Saraboam spoke. "Reasons such as those are why I disagree with traditional forms of law." "What do you mean?" "By the regret in your voice, you must disagree with the fact that your friend, the gang member, was executed unjustly, correct?" "Yes," he responded, "yes, I do." "I agree. I believe that a person's past is irrelevant, with the exception of abuses of trust." "So murderers are to be forgiven their crimes?" "If they are truly repentant, then yes." "But how does one know if they really are?" "The conscience-stricken, if they regret their action, will do something of their own free will to make up for it." "But what if one continues to commit such crimes?" "Then they will be hunted down and found. If one expresses no remorse for their offense up to the moment they are killed, they are to be killed." "But, but…any criminal would say that they are regretful, simply to get out of punishment!" Finway protested. "And to add to that, who would decide what is true regret, and what is not?" "There are ways to tell; special techniques can be applied, each unique to each case." "Who would be responsible for this?" "The community, or more specifically, those with the power to do so." "I'm afraid I do not follow. Are you saying that the rights of justice belong with the powerful?" "Yes, allow me to provide an example," Saraboam began. "Imagine a man commits an offence that is punishable by death. One designated with power will pursue him, and once the man is within death's grasp, a test will be administered to determine if the man is truly repentant or not." "What is this test?" "It is different for each case. Let us say that the man killed his father. Once he is caught by the one designated to bring justice, the tribune will proceed to create a momentary illusion of the man's father. In that moment, the man's reaction will either display amazement at his father being alive, or fear at what the consequences might be for he himself. Based upon his performance, the judge will either slay the man or pardon him of his crime. This gives the man a chance for atonement." "But what if the tribune, as you call the judge, is biased?" an objective Finway questioned. "Then he will answer to another, higher official," replied the magician. "That would require a supremely just being, one who knows the ways of fairness and balance perfectly!" "Balance, no. The characteristic of reasonability is what I would consider fitting for such a being, one who is intelligent in restorative justice, instead of discipline." "In my opinion," started the adventurer, "your system is open for corruption." "Pure justice is not moral in any way, and that is why the system that the people of Varrock use is fundamentally amiss. The gang member you befriended is an example of this; his good deed, returning the shield, certainly reflected his current view of the world and principles. A man's past does not exhibit his present state." Finway opened his mouth to argue, but he could not think of anything to say. At the same time, the two turned their heads back towards the empty terrain ahead of them. "But a supremely reasonable and restorative being does not exist in the world," he finally managed to say. Saraboam glanced back at the adventurer. "Perhaps." Their path was exceedingly dismal. They had since passed out of Pollniveach's boundaries, and the sandy land in front of them was but a bright blur under the hot sun. A few miles to the north was a string of cliffs and mounts, each of them hundreds of feet tall, but much farther to the south were the slopes of mountains that stretched up and peaked their heads into the sky, gaining eternal, undaunted sight at the valley the formed. Such monuments of nature were nothing new to Finway, but there was something strange about it all: this mountain range, unlike the others he had seen, bore no snow at the tops; their peaks were forged entirely of rock. At first, he considered it to simply be the warm climate that did not allow snow or ice to exist. However, the difference created a strange aura about the mountains, a mythical feeling that caused him to stare at it. Their dark walls steeply contrasted the ground below them in a manner than seemed supernatural, almost paranormal. He decided not to dwell on it, however, and he simply trudged along beside the mage who had saved his life. They went on for a wile without speaking, perhaps because of their recent disagreement, perhaps because of their exhaustion under the desert heat. There was no denying that Saraboam was more fit for such a climate, as he was simply breathing heavily while Finway was practically panting. Thoughts of Abigail entered the young lord's mind once again. There is so much that we could have, he thought to himself. When he returned to Varrock, he would have to ask the king for no more commissions and quests. Determination set in his mind. His days of adventure were over, and no matter how much he longed for one last, grand quest, he could not risk losing Abigail, whether she would become disillusioned with him, or whether he would die before having a chance to marry her. When he was done questing once and for all, the two would probably settle down. My home is not big enough for a wealthy family, Finway supposed, so he wondered how he would obtain a larger, superior home. He could sell his father's investments, either those of the fertile farmland near the Lum River, or else the lumber mill northeast of Varrock. With that money, he would construct a grand mansion for himself and Abigail to live in and raise their children. The estate would have a fancy garden, similar to the Vanthin's own allotment, along with water fountains and sculptures from the finest craftsmen in the land. As Finway glanced up, he noticed that they had just passed the final, tallest of the northern hills. It was a large mount that bore a rounded edge. It seemed unlike either a hill or a mountain; its shape was truly unique. "Do you see the flat peak there?" Saraboam asked, ending his train of thought. Finway nodded. "Yes, what of it?" "That is where I made a shrine to the Empty Lord, Zaros. It is from there that I saw the bandits amassing, and from there I witnessed your ambush." There was a moment of silence before the young nobleman spoke again. "How far is it until the pyramid?" "Not far at all," the mage spoke. "In fact, we're practically there. We should see the tip very soon." Indeed, Saraboam was correct. Within a few minutes, the simmering tip of the massive temple peaked about the crescent dunes of the desert. A surprisingly cool wind blew the sand, thickening the air with the tan colored dust so familiar to the area. "Is that it, up ahead?" Finway asked. "Yes," was the mage's simple response. "How will we get in?" the adventurer asked. He had never thought about it before, but it seemed almost impenetrable from the outside. Maybe we won't find a way, he thought, so I won't have to face this demon, after all. "There is an entrance. In fact, there are two," he replied. "The first is at the top, and judging by the construction of pyramids, that way will take one through a long, dark tunnel filled with all sorts of atrocities and horrors." "What do you mean, monstrosities and horrors?" Finway immediately thought of his own adventurers, specifically the menacing sewers of Varrock, and the horrific zombies, rodents, and other creatures that dwelled within it's tunnels. Is this pyramid, he thought, similar to the sewers? "Most pyramids are protected by enchantments and curses…mummified corpses are in place to attack and kill whoever's enters, for example. Also, there is no doubt that the dark god Scabaras has placed his dark minions. He always was a strange one, that god, who both distrusted the desert pantheon and hated Zaros." "Scabaras? Was he not one of the desert pantheon?" Saraboam smiled, a seemingly rare occasion. "You know much for a northerner. Yes, he was one of them, but he was not truly of them. He preferred isolation to all else, and that is why, up until he was banished, it was not discouraged for intellectuals to worship him, if it would help them in their studies." "What happened?" "He was banished, but we'll speak of that later. Here we are, the pyramid of Azzanadra!" As he spoke, the sand cleared from the air as the shining, bright-stoned walls of the great shrine came into view. It was extraordinarily tall, well over a hundred feet into the air, and had four obelisks surrounding it. The pyramid had three different levels, each with a curve, that formed steps up to the peak at the very top. "Wait, Jamal had said something about diamonds needed to free him." Finway halted in his tracks. Saraboam only nodded. "Yes, it's a good thing that I found this pouch after I had driven the bandits off. I had not realized that they were inside until I had returned here to my home." After the mention of the bandits, the two both glanced at the side of the pyramid that the ambush had occurred at. There were no bodies there, only sand, one of the few constants of the desert. "So you have all four diamonds?" "Indeed I do. Now, there was something I forgot to mention…" "The second entrance?" "Yes, that would be rather important. All pyramids have a secret entrance in them, usually towards the back. First, however, we must place these diamonds in their correct locations." Finway opened his mouth to speak, "And where do they belong?" "Each obelisk bears a resemblance to one of the diamonds. You see this one here-" the mage approached the nearest tower, "-bears a symbol of a drop of blood." There was a square inscription, depicting a single drop. It was truly simplistic, but easily decipherable. "If the legends hold any truth, this red diamond belongs in this space here." He slowly placed the crimson gem into a slot at the heart of the obelisk. Immediately, the entire structure began to glow, reflecting it's scarlet nature onto the sides of the pyramid. "Here, follow me." Finway, not saying a word, intently remained close the mage, who walked at a swift place towards the next obelisk. There was a similar inscription of a snowflake. Saraboam took the white diamond and placed it in the spot similar to the blood diamond's. Immediately, the obelisk began to illuminate, very similar the way the blood obelisk had. They continued in circumference of the pyramid, placing a dark green gem representing poison in one, and a black diamond of shadow in another. The poison and shadow were darker in color, so they did not glow; instead, a dark hue was given out from both of their obelisks. When their task was finished, Saraboam motioned for Finway to follow him. They proceeded to circle the pyramid as the returned to the back side of the massive structure. "There should be a secret entrance here somewhere…" the mage said. Once more, Finway did not reply. He was half astonished that the mage's plan was working, and half in shock that he was helping to free a demon. "Is this it?" the adventurer asked, touching an almost unnoticeable square block that lacked proper mortar around it. "Yes, that is it!" Saraboam exclaimed. "This is what my ancestors have only dreamed about…" he added silently. "It seems like I can reach my fingers around it, but it looks as if it will be incredibly heavy." "Step aside for a moment." Finway did so, and the wizard proceeded to cast a spell. A sullen green glow shot out from his staff towards the ground, and the two felt a slight tremor in the earth beneath them. The sand dulled it's effects on them, but the earth spell proceeded to crack the block into two pieces. "That makes things quite easier," acknowledged Finway. He had successfully tried to grab the cracks, and once he got a hold of it, he pulled with all his might. It was heavy, but not too heavy for the skilled young lord. Within moments, the two cracked parts of the secret doorway laid upon the sand at their feet. Darkness seemingly protruded from the entrance, sucking away any light that tried to entered it. "Let's go," Saraboam crept inside the tunnel, crawling on his hands and knees. Finway followed him. After a few minutes, they reached a large chamber. Darkness was strangely absent; although it was not nearly as bright as the sun-lit desert outside. Suddenly, an amazing apparition began to emerge. The phantom's appearance was otherworldly: its skin was as pale as now, and its muscular body was incredibly huge. Upon its head was a jackal-head helmet, deep, dark and crimson. "I am Azzanadra," the specter spoke as it materialized. His voice was deep and commencing, and his tone was as serious as one could possibly perceive. "Who has come to free me from my imprisonment?"

OSRS - P2P cooking with a profit 124k xp/hr + 120k profit/hr

I want to start this thread by appreciating the mods for still having this website up. One of the things I enjoyed every year was getting a personal email telling me happy birthday. I don't get it much, so it always made my eyes light up to get that email. Another thing I'm grateful of is this forum staying up helped me remember the username for my very first runescape account. I just sent in an appeal to hopefully get access. I don't really have a point to this thread besides me being thankful to the mods for keeping it up. I hope to be able to many times more over the years.

Team, On this glorious November morning, I was blessed to receive an email reminding me of the 11th anniversary of our exodus from the old forums to these 'new' ones. Needless to say it's a touch quieter here now that it used to be. If any November 3rd / old forum folks are still around please pop by! Cheers, Ouranos P.s. when did it get so quiet around here?! P.p.s. pleased to see the shoutout on the guide I wrote is still there. The Merlin's Crystal guide remains my finest published work to day.

So I have a macbook pro running an old OS. Too old, in fact to run the Runescape client. And since Google Chrome no longer supports Java, I can't run it on that. My Mac OS is too old to run Firefox. Safari won't run it either. The obvious solution would be to update my Mac OS, but sadly that isn't an option either. Can anyone think of ANY way I could find a way to play Runescape on this Mac? Any ideas would be greatly appreciated.

This is my refusal to see this place die. Admin have a list of email addresses on the IP.Board and I say we remind everyone to come and login via their email, i know many are going to be inactive but with over 20,000 members it'll gain some traction. If we send an email every couple weeks or a month to people, we'll get people back here for sure. Let's send out a newsletter, let's bring people in. Perhaps we setup a fund for advertising, so that we get more hits. I think that if everyone is agreed, some small donation from people to a different fund for advertising is a great idea. I imagine that if everyone who likes coming here had a small donation to give we'll pool enough to reach some people! Perhaps we spam the social media. We should be all over facebook, twitter, tumblr, instagram...everywhere. I don't care if we have to create new accounts to spam the share button and retweet, that's what we should be doing. Perhaps we create a donation pool so that people who create guides and write regular content have a way of getting something back for their contribution, like a commission for successful guides if the money is readily available.

hi guys excited to bring you my 2nd video on how to cook without a loss on F2P! requirements lvl 25 cooking raw potatoes raw rat meat empty bowls i hope this helps you guys get to the cooking level you need without losing money & even gaining money! drop a like and subscribe. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JU37dBiaGBY

Hello, so i was just wondering...i am doing slayer quite often and my slayer lvl is 95... but so far i got ZERO effigies. Is it my luck?? Do you guys have anything in mind? :P Shall i pray to the RNG gods or something?

The Brotherhood PVM/PVP/Community The Brotherhood Forum: http://brotherhoodrs.enjin.com The Brotherhood is an Old School Runescape clan that was established in June 2016. Although relatively new, The Brotherhood was founded by previous clan leaders and founders with over 5 years of experience leading. The Brotherhood is made by the members and for the members. Our goal as a clan is to create an environment of commradery for our members and friends and for the Old School Runescape community. To promote this environment we listen to what our members want and we try our best to build a clan that supports those needs. We host a wide range of events ranging from social get-togethers like house parties to PVP clan wars and everything in between. Individual event attendance is not required, so if you prefer social events you can attend those and if you prefer wars and pking you can attend those. We also strongly encourage members to host and lead their own events. DISCORD The Brotherhood Discord Channel: https://discord.gg/0138Nw17Zs4dnUVnH The Brotherhood uses Discord as it's preferred voice chat client. Feel free to join even if you do not use voice chat since it has text built in as well. CLAN CHAT Runescape Clan Chat: The_Bro_Hood This is our primary clan chat. Individual clan chats are sometimes created for events for specific purposes. TWITCH CapnSolesy: https://www.twitch.t...nsolesy/profile Neronic: https://www.twitch.tv/neronic/profile Some of our members stream events and their typical game play. Feel free to check them out! Activity Requirements Membership in The Brotherhood is a privilege; it is not granted to all. In order to build and maintain an active community we have certain activity requirements in place. Forum Activity All members must contribute by posting and routinely check The Brotherhood forum for upcoming events, announcements and general clan engagement. The clan forum is The Brotherhood's primary place for posting news and we require our members to actively engage with each other on there. Chat Activity All members should be active in The Brotherhood's clan chat and/or Discord channel while playing Runescape. If you are playing you should be engaging with your fellow clan members. We have no issues with you being in other clan chats or unable to talk in Discord but we would like the majority of your time to be spent with the clan. That's why we are in the clan in the first place. If a member has posted an Away thread this activity requirement can be waived during that time. MEMBER RANKS Community Friend When a new applicant is accepted into The Brotherhood they become a Community Friend and can stay for as long as they like! Community Friends are given the rank of Friend in the Runescape clan chat! Community Member Community Member's Receive a new title showing that they've become a full fledged member of The Brotherhood. Community Member's are granted the rank of Recruit in the Clan Chat. Community Friend's must complete the following in order to attain the "Community Member" Rank. Attend a total of 4 events. Acquire a post count of 30 on our forums OR acquire 500 points in our Discord channel.​ Have a regular presence in "The_Bro_Hood" Clan Chat. VETERAN Veteran members receive a new rank, title and icon on the forum and receive a higher rank in Clan Chat. They also receive additional preference for future Staff Positions. A Rookie member may request Veteran status once they have met the following requirements: Attend at least 10 events in the past 90 days. Minimum of 1.5 posts per day on the forum. Regular presence in Discord and/or Clan Chat. Have recruited at least 2 members into The Brotherhood. Have led and/or organized at least 2 official events. ELITE Elite members receive a new rank, title and icon on the forum and receive a higher rank in Clan Chat. They also receive additional preference for future Staff Positions. A Veteran member may request Elite status once they have met the following requirements: Attend at least 20 events in the past 90 days. Minimum of 2 posts per day on the forum. Regular presence in Discord and/or Clan Chat. Have recruited at least 5 members in The Brotherhood. Have lead and/or organized at least 5 official events. STAFF POSITIONS When a Staff Position is available it will be posted on the forum for all current members to apply. The current staff members will review all applications and give the position to the most qualified member. RECRUITMENT OFFICER The Recruitment Officer is responsible for managing all areas of recruitment for The Brotherhood. This is the backbone of the clan and an essential position that ensures our brotherhood continues to grow! MENTOR Each new Recruit in The Brotherhood is assigned to a Mentor who will make sure to answer any questions the Recruit may have and assist them with their transition into becoming a full member of the clan. EVENT COORDINATOR Event Coordinators are responsible for working closely with all of the members to determine the types and times of events that are best. They are responsible for leading events or assigning a volunteer to lead and for managing the Event Calendar. ADVISOR Advisors handle the majority of administrative duties in The Brotherhood. This includes managing the forums, clan chat, Discord and handling any member disputes. Advisors also help assist all other staff positions when needed. LEADER The Leaders of The Brotherhood help craft a vision for the clan and work closely with the other staff positions to implement programs and changes to create this vision. Leaders also help assist all other staff positions when needed. Leader: CapnSolesy http://brotherhoodrs.enjin.com/info

Type of Graphic: Forum signature. Size: 606 x 202 Colors: As it is in the picture. Text: Living Myth Ok , so here is what i want you guys to do.For the first picture of angel i want my name "Living Myth" above the angel.And for the second angel which is a female i want it right of her.Make sure the font is thin and fancy , but not too fancy.You can also pour in your ideas and give me a completely different signature or edit the photo.Best signature will be awarded in game rs money. PS. Convert the picture to 606 x 202 first and make sure its in HD :P http://imgur.com/0WMqDAa - Image 1 http://imgur.com/9hwxBwY - Image 2

"Its not about the destination, but the Journey." °ï¦ï°¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯°ï¦ï° Who are we? Journey is a clan based on the proposition stated above which also works as our clan motto. We are a social & community based clan. Journey is indeed a fairly new clan, however, the experienced leadership are very optimistic about this clan and the potential it has in the near future. Clan Summary: ¤ Clan chat: 'Journey' ¤ Leaders: Poly & Jardeath ¤ Founders: Poly & Jardeath ¤ Founded: 14th November 2014 ¤ Home Worlds: P2P - World 134 ........................F2P - World 3 ¤ Clan Forums: Off-Site Forums ( http://forums.journey-rs.com/)¤ Twitter: @JourneyClan¤ Clan Colours: Teal | Lime | White ¤ Clan Time: UTC (Game Time). Join the Journey! If you are interested in joining the Journey or simply just interested to know more about the clan (ranking structure, rules, requirements, etc) please visit the Journey Clan - Recruitment Thread on the Official RuneScape Forums.Get in touch with us on the recruitment thread, clan chat, or PM. We look forward to hearing from you!

what's going on guys, I have a really good obby tank guide I spent a lot of time on it and I really hope you guys like it! tell me what you guys think about it and also I really do hope it helps you out! thank you guys so much for the support of my last 2 videos of me pking! Also if you haven't already please check out my other 2 videos of me pking! Please Leave A Like, Comment Subscribe !!! =) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dHQM40-AeKU

A Runescape Realm A Runescape Realm is a fun, friendly Teamspeak 3 Server. It is highly regulated by server assistants and admins insuring you a safe and fun experience. Play other games as well? Great, so do we. Come join us for the ultimate Gaming experience! How to Connect: http://www.teamspeak...?page=downloads Make sure you download the client, not the server. After you hit connect, type in one of these server addresses: vs26.tserverhq.com:7437 runescaperealm.tserverhq.com Then type in your nickname and hit connect. After that you will be connected to the server. Once you are connected: Wait in one of the Public Chat Rooms and poke an admin/assistant to get registered. If one is not around, hang tight! Thank you and we hope to see you there! Scarlet Dovah A Runescape Realm Admin