User:Liwolf1/Greenwolf Saga
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The Greenwolf Saga by Liwolf1. For a cast of characters, click here. Page 1
[edit] Life's End:
He could see the small Saradominist church through the trees. Its stained glass windows were old, but they still glimmered colorfully in the sunlight. The man stopped and sat on a small boulder. He laid his greyish-blue halberd on the ground, and put his backpack beside it. He took out an apple, and ate it slowly. He was wearing a platebody and platelegs of the same material, Runite, and it made him sweat from the hot summer heat. The plate body was trimmed with green paint, and had a snake painted vertically and upside down onto it. The legs were trimmed green also. He would have prefered to leave them at the Inn, but he was sure one of the pirates in the bar would sneak into his room and take all his things. His hair, goatie, and mustache didn't help, since all of the scholars knew that black colors attracted heat. He ended his break, and continued on towards the church.
Three green goblins hid in the bushes near him, their spears and daggers drawn. They readied themselves to leap out of the bushes. The warrior stopped two yards ahead of them.
"Wormbrain, I recommend strongly that you and yer thugs sheath your weapons, and get on with yer lives." said the warrior, while pulling on his goatie. He continued walking, and the goblin in orange armor stood. The two others did the same, and they all dropped their weapons. "I said that you should sheath your weapons, not surrender. You know, one day you'll probably steal something important and end up in Port Sarim jail. I'll probably have to come and kill you to get it back." The goblin gulped and said, "Yoo may tink yoo so stong, but one day, Big High War god will order stong goblin to kill yoo." At that, the goblins retook their weapons and ran away. "Pitiful, absolutely pitiful." he said while shaking his head.
He passed the graveyard, and entered the church. It was empty as always. From the windo behind the altar, a view of the nearby beach was seen, seagulls flying around. He left his halberd by the door, and kneeled at the altar.
"Guthix, forgive me for using a church of your brother's, but I know that who the altar belongs to matters not, but what lies in my heart does. I haven't prayed to ye in a long while, trying to spread your word and balance, and what-not, which is why I come here. The nearest of yer own altars is to far for me to walk for my liking. Please forgive me for what I am about to do, but I do believe that if I do this, I will be helping balance," he swallowed back tears,"I wish for you to recieve me well in your world. Thank you, my lord. Long live the path of Balance." At that, the Guthixian Warrior grabbed his halberd, and stepped outside, into the graveyard.
From his pack, he took out a shovel and a scroll. He dug a hole the size of a grave, and now couldn't help but cry. He continued his work for hours, undisturbed by humans and goblins alike. When he finally finish, he gasped for breath, and laid the scroll inside. He put his halberd next to it, and covered them in dirt, until the hole was unseen. "Guthix, I beg you to hide this weapon and this scroll, as they are of utmost importance, and only the one you have told me of in my dreams should be able to find them. Please, hide them from gravediggers, and priests, and anyone else. Give me strength to complete my task to do your bidding." He finished his prayer, and took out a sharp rune knife, and placed it at his throat.
"Give me strength to bring an end to my unbalanced life." He sighed, and was about to slit his own throat when he heard the scream. His instincts convinced him to investigate. The screams went on, and he guessed that it was an old woman screaming. His experience was rarely wrong. He ran southward, and a few minutes later, he reached the edge of the beach, where a fisherman, a man, was screaming worse than a Morytanian banshee. At first, the warrior didn't know what he was afraid of, but then he saw it: a huge, strange-looking ogre in a funny hat and long fin-shoes. A Mogre.
[edit] Skippy:
It didn't look scary, but rather, it looked hilarious. Except for the fact that it was taller than two men, and was carrying a mace that could crush a dragon's skull. "For the love of Guthix," cursed the man, and he did what he always did: exactly the opposite of what he should do. He took his dagger, and aimed at its head. "Yeeeeeeeaaaaaaarrrrrgggghhh!!!", he screamed, ran forward, and threw the knife harder than he had ever thrown anything before. It spun in the air, and hit its target true. The mogre just stood there, but its skin looked like it was melting. And that it was, until it became pure water, and it splashed the beach. Everything except the bones were their, but the skeleton was still standing. The Guthixian ran to the fisherman, and pulled him onto the grass, just when the skeleton toppled over and landed on the spot the man was just before. The fisherman's leg was bleeding, and it had a huge bitemark.
"I'm Regulus Wolf, I'm here to help you. Sir? Sir? Stay with me, now, wake up!" ordered the warrior, while nursing the leg wounds. "Come on, what's your name?" he yelled. The man muttered something, "Sk-Skippy." The warrior almost laughed out of nervousness. "Skippy? What the hell kind of name is Skippy?"
The fisherman looked at him with a pained smile. "It's no better than Regulus! Get me a beer!" Regulus Wolf was amazed that his leg was almost cut off, and all we wanted was a drink.
"Later, Skippy, Later. How about nettle tea instead?" The fisherman nodded, and took a sip from a bottle that Regulus had just taken out. "Mmm, this is good!" Wolf smirked, and tried to get the man to stand on two legs. "Let's get you to the witch in Rimmington, so I won't have to take care of you anymore."