Warning: Display title "RuneScape Wiki Post – Issue 1: April 2009" overrides earlier display title "RuneScape Wiki Post – Issue 1: April 2009 – Fan Fiction".
"It's the Zamorakians! There's at least four dozen of them, we're out numbered!" reported a scout who had returned from the tunnels, as he fell to the ground; an arrow in his back. Everyone was silent as they listened to the thumps of the enemy’s feet marching toward them. Pit pat pit pat pit pat. They all turned their gaze toward the commander, waiting for a signal. "Wait until they attack us, then—” He was cut off by the sound of swords being unsheathed.
He smiled as the blood pooled from the fallen soldier's neck. He turned and ran to the block of ice around the sword and Zamorak. While running to his Lordship he fired ice spells behind him, in order to slow down the Bandos followers. Firing a wave of fire towards the god, he noticed something was wrong, Zamorak was gone.
Hazelmere stood alone. He stood with many. White endless void all around. Many dark souls stood around. How did he know they were souls? He did not know. Whizzing. Whirling. Everything spun. He was at his hut on the end of a series of islands. No, he was far away from the hut. He spoke to a human. The human. He heard what he said, but it sounded so far away. What was their name? He could not remember. He knew they were of importance.
Argan, a poor farm boy forced into involuntary servitude of a tyrannical king, decides to escape one night. Will he escape, or will he be beheaded at the king's discretion?