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My name is Teiren, and I’m upset.
Today’s the Height of Taurus, and it feels like all of Kandarin is out celebrating the mid-spring festivities. As long as you were above ground, the smell of savory, skewered meats grilled to perfection assailed your senses. Everywhere you went, jaunty tunes echoed along the wind to the point that, even outside the cities, you could easily dance to the music.
But no, of course I wasn’t above ground. Why would I be? Instead, I’m stuck in this gods-forsaken dungeon doing a puzzle that would put the elemental workshops to shame.
The Temple Knights, ever punctual, must have realized that the perfect opportunity to accost me about this mission was when:
1) I had my first real day off in all of 169,
And 2) Just after I had gotten gussied up for the festival.
My assignment: to investigate a strange facility that had sprung up in the middle of Khazard territory.
“Investigate what?” you may be asking. Well, don’t worry, I asked that as well.
“Exactly” was their response. Apparently probable cause is just a two letter word.
So here I am, who-knows-how-many meters below the ground, juggling keys like I’m in the circus while running around like a runecrafter in the Wilderness.
And the worst part? I can still smell the grilled meat from here.
I place the blue key into its slot and turn it. The tension in my heart releases its grip when the key gave a satisfying click.
Finally! I think with a sigh. That was a puzzle I never want to relive.
Dust fogs the air as the stone doors in the back of the room rumble and scrape. Based on that awful sound, my guess is that the Zamorakians use magic to get in and out of this place.
Since I have some spare time, I gather up all the papers which had provided vague, yet convenient clues in regards to the immediate dilemma. As I prepare to rip them apart, I hesitate for a second before assuring myself that they’ll end up in my bookcase back at my house on the off-chance that I want to read them again.
I scatter the torn pieces of paper to the wind just as the door finishes opening, and step out of the room into… another room with a door at the end of it. Great. My stomach expresses its solidarity with my discontent.
Upon further inspection, this place looks to be some kind of storage room. Past experience says that these kinds of rooms hold the really juicy stuff, so I walk over to the nearest box against the wall—
I hear a click in the back of the room, and I draw my whip and defender.
I spin to face the door. A crescent moon-shaped lock rotates, unlatching a toothed, metal bar, and the door swings open.
A young man dressed in reds and browns — Karamjan, by the looks of it — steps into the room. A masquerade-esque mask and a hood obscure most of his face.
“Forgive me,” the boy says with a soft voice, "but it’s time for you to leave.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, yeah, heard it all before, kid,” I say. “Let’s just get this over with.”
The young man reaches over his shoulders, behind his back, drawing a longsword and a small shield.
I grab a hold of the battleaxe tucked away into my backpack. I squeeze my fingers tight, and I feel a force of power course through my veins.
“Raarrrrrgggggghhhhhhh!” I yell, compelled by the burst strength.
I leap towards the boy, arms pumping as I fall into a sprint. As I close the gap I rear the whip back, aiming at the boy’s legs.
Crack!
The whip strikes true… at nothing. The boy had disappeared.
A shadow looms over me, and I look up to see the boy’s legs as he sails over me.
I hear him land, and I spin around.
Ksh!
I catch his sword with my defender. Sparks fly as metal touches metal, until I parry away his strike.
“Backflips, huh?” I say. “Did they teach you that in gym class?”
The boy stabs at me with his sword again, and again. Each time I barely catch him at the last moment.
“Rngh… Don’t you have to be in school today?” I ask. “Or did you get the day off — hah! — for the Height of Taurus?”
I catch the boy’s sword once more, but this time he tries to put his weight into the stab. With the power granted to me by my battleaxe, I find it simple enough to hold him at bay.
I see the boy’s eyes widen under the white glass in his mask, and he leaps backwards.
With a step forward, I swing my whip again—
Krak!
— only for the boy to flip back onto the boxes along the wall.
I take the moment to quickly swig half of my Saradomin brew and a shot of my super restore. “You’re a slippery one, aren’t you?”
Suddenly, the boy runs along the top of the boxes, then leaps. His feet land on the corner of the room and he springs off—
— heading directly towards me! He rears back his sword arm and—
Thk!
His sword strikes the ground after I roll out of the way. The boy stands and twirls to face me.
“So do your parents know you joined a freaky skeleton man cult?” I ask.
The boy huffed. “I wasn’t really expecting there to be this much talking.”
My brows scrunch. “I wasn't expecting you to be so boring .”
“Sorry to disappoint…” the boy mumbled.
I shrug. “It’s fine, not all mid-bosses can be exciting. The backflips are pretty cool, though.”
As I say that, two more boys and a girl, dressed head to toe in red, fan out from behind the agile young man. Wispy black magic smolder out from underneath their hoods as they circle around me like sharks.
I put my hands on my hips. “What, did you guys coordinate this, or something?”
The agile boy smiles. “What if we did?”
“Eh, C for effort, I guess.” I say. “Which to be fair, none of you seem to be in school, so who can say if— agh!”
I’m hit from behind by a spell from the girl, and I see a purple cage briefly appear above me.
“Really? A teleblock spell?” I cry. “If you can do that, why not just teleport me out of here?”
“Wait, yeah, Marble…” said one of the boys, who was wearing a checkered tunic. “Why don’t we just do that?”
“Her accept aid setting is turned off!” the girl spat. “What do you want me to do!?”
“Malice! Marble!” the agile boy admonished. “Focus!”
“Got it, Rook!” Marble announced.
“Hey, kid, can we get this over with, already?” I say. “It doesn’t matter if you send Mook, Moron, or Monkey, you’re not going to beat me.”
Rook grins, and his three minions disappear into the shadows. “I’m sorry you feel that way,” he says “but you’re allowed to be wrong.”
I leap forward again, my whip reared and ready—
Or at least, I would have, but before I know it, one of the minion boys with a dark shawl appears at my side and stabs me between my armor.
“Argh!” I cry, clutching the wound. I hurriedly munch down on a fillet of shark to reinvigorate myself.
Within moments Rook is upon me. As I parry his attempted strikes, I notice that his tactics haven't changed. This time, between his flurry of blows, I surprise him with a crack of my whip. He leaps backwards, giving me a chance to breathe.
And as I take that staggering breath, an all-too-familiar sensation churns through my body. My eyes widen with realization.
I reach for my antipoison. I really wasn’t expecting to need to drink this!
Something catches my eye. I look down to see a red glyph at my feet. I stumble backwards just in time to avoid a column of dark magic rising from the floor.
I see, it’s one of those fights, huh? I think as I clutch my antipoison.
Just as I’m about to drink, something strikes my hand. The vial flies backwards and crashes onto the floor, a red throwing knife following it with a loud clatter.
I scan the room. Malice disappears out of the corner of my eye.
I scoff. “Can’t a girl take a drink in peace around here!?”
Krak!
“Why don’t you start by buying me one first?” Rook teases as he dodges another strike from my whip.
Kshhhhink!
“Sure kid,” I say as I parry another strike. “Come back when you’re old enough to reach the bar.”
Rook shrugs. “Hey, I’m old enough to drink in Ardougne. So’s Mosaic.”
Snap! Krak!
With a series of strikes, I manage to back Rook into a corner. “Which one’s that?”
In my periphery, I notice an absence of light. The minion with the shawl steps out of the shadows, and nearly would have stabbed me again had I not dodged out of the way.
His cheeks raise under his facemask. “That’s me,” he says through a thick Wushankan accent. “Nice to meet you.”
I stab at him with my defender, knowing full well he had already disappeared into the shadows. It wasn’t nearly as cathartic as I hoped.
I fume through my nose and grit my teeth. Alright, Teiren, what’s the plan here?
With a twirl I lash my whip again to keep Rook at a distance.
The kid’s fast, won’t let me get anywhere close to him.
Snap! Krak!
Fwoom! Another column of darkness rises before me.
And when I do let him near, he keeps me busy until one of his little friends gets the chance to shish-kabob me.
What on Guthix’s Green Gielinor do I do, then?
I reach for one of my Saradomin brews, only for it to be knocked out of my hand again.
“Hey, those are expensive!” I bark.
Malice shrugs and shakes his head. “Die mad about it, then?”
Oo, damn these brats…
I don’t nearly have the supplies to stay on the defensive. That knife-thrower’s seen to that.
Rook dodges another one of my strikes with a cartwheel.
Yeesh, where do these kids get all the bloody energy!?
…
Wait, that’s it!
I take a step back, pointing my defender at Rook. “Hey, Bishop Knightley, are you ready to stop the acrobatics or are you going to keep running away like a chump?”
Rook shrugs. “You’re the one who’s poisoned. Seems like the chump strategy’s the winning one.”
Damnit, he’s not dumb enough to fall for that, huh?
“How do you know if I’m poisoned or not?” I lie. “For all you know I’m completely immune.”
“We know you’re not!” Malice whines as he appears on my flank. “You were about to drink an antipoison!”
I furrow my brow. “No I wasn’t!”
Malice squares his shoulders and stamps his feet. “Oh, my gods, yes you were! Stop being annoy— Ack!”
He leapt back into the shadows to avoid a lashing.
I spin back to face Rook. He was heading to pounce at me, just as planned.
My arm rears back to whip at him again—
Rook stops in his tracks to leap to his side.
I wait until he’s midair and—
Snap!
“Aagh!” he cries as my whip wraps around his torso.
I smirk. “Got you!” I say as I channel energy into my whip. The thong glows a satisfyingly bright red as I feel reinvigorated.
Which I only get to enjoy for a moment before—
Fwoom!
A column of darkness rises up around me, and everything goes black. I stagger backwards, unfurling my whip, just in case.
Shit, I got careless!
I scan the room. Nothing but pitch darkness as far as I could see — or not see, rather. I feel myself bump into a box behind me, and I swing my defender in front of me, hoping to catch someone in its arc.
Somewhere to my right, I hear someone gasping desperately to catch their breath.
“Shit…” I hear Rook curse, far from where I thought I left him, “What was that? What did you do!?”
I grin. “You like that, kid?” I hold up my whip and grip the handle tight. “There’s plenty more where that came from.”
The black in my eyes slowly fades into a dull grey. Still unhelpful, but I can begin to see figures again. Just in time, as I spot who I assume to be Mosaic trying to sneak in between my wild slashes. I point my defender at him, and he disappears again.
I hug along the line of boxes, keeping an eye on who I think must be Rook. If that mage wanted to trap me in another glyph, she would have to work for it.
“You know there’s always the easy way left,” I offer to the room. “Drop the freaky cult business and spare yourselves some grief.”
“You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” Rook spat.
My vision flickers and my head feels a little dizzy. I nibble on one of my last few fillets.
Damn, shouldn’t have brought so many Saradomin brews…
“Then explain it to me,” I say. “Usually villains like you love to monologue about the big plan at this point, don’t they?”
Rook tsked. “Fuck off...”
“No?” I tease. “Not the type, eh? Must be middle management, at best.”
The black fog in my eyes fades away—
Just in time to see Rook in the air, heading right towards me.
I lash my whip once more, aiming for his legs and—
Snap!
It curls around his foot.
With a tug and a spin, I bring the boy crashing to the floor — right through a box for good measure.
“Ow, fuck!” he cries.
I step over to the impact site, pointing my defender at him.
“Checkmate, kid. ”
Rook quickly sat up and scrambled backwards, his teeth grit. As I attempt to close the gap, Marble and Malice appear between us, brandishing a wand and a fan of knives.
I widen my stance. “You two think you can handle me head on?” I challenge.
My brows furrow. “Wait. Two? Aren’t there—”
I feel a slash against my back, and my whole body siezes with the force of a dozen killerwatts. I fall to my hands and knees, but look up to see Mosaic stepping past me, sheathing an ornate blade.
“Mosaic, inform the boss,” Rook ordered. “The vault is lost. Malice, start clearing out what you can.”
The boys nod and disappear into the shadows.
Rook reaches into a side-pouch on his belt, and rolls a tiny vial of green liquid towards me.
“No hard feelings?” he says with a smile. “Hopefully you won’t be so lucky next time.”
Marble gave me sour scowl, then put her hand on Rook’s shoulder.
In a swirl of lights, the two of them teleport out of the room, leaving me, alone, unable to move, in this dingey, gods-forsaken hole-in-the-ground. Nothing to keep me company but my thoughts.
… and that accursed smell of grilled meat in the air.
***
“That seems like quite the ordeal, Miss,” Marianne notes, her fist resting just shy of her chin.
By the time I had regained control of my body, drank the anti-poison, and explored the rest of that so-called ‘vault,’ the sun was setting on the Height of Taurus. Most of the day's festivities had already ended, and — most egregiously of all — most of the food had been picked over.
After having my wounds dressed by Marianne, I’m more determined than ever to squeeze out as many of the remnants of my day off as I could — even if that just meant getting a cup of tea somewhere in town.
I shrug. “Eh, I’d give it top five in ‘most mediocre fights I’ve been in’.” The wound in my side causes me to hiss, and I place my hand on it. “But damn, if they weren’t effective. I wonder where I could get weapons like that.”
Marianne smiles serenely. “Well, Miss, I don’t think you should be thinking about weapons any more, today,” she said. “Instead, you should focus on enjoying the rest of your day.”
“I guess,” I say. “Hey, is this the place?”
I gesture towards a little café in the corner of a larger building. It honestly didn’t look bigger than a walk-in closet and, as far as I could tell, didn’t seem to have a lot of seating on the inside.
Marianne claps her hands together. “Ah, yes, this is it!”
I raise an eyebrow. “You think this place’ll be better than Forester’s Arms?”
“I really think you should try to find tea shops that aren’t taverns,” Marianne says reproachfully as she takes a hold of the door handle. “Your horizons will be broadened that way!”
“Whatever,” I mumble.
A little bell jingles above the doorway as we enter. The café really wasn’t any more than the coffee bar and a few stools to sit along it. The shop was being attended by a cute young girl with silky black hair tied up with a large, pink ribbon.
As the barista notices us, she interrupts her conversation with a red-headed young man seated at the bar. “Hi there!~” she says with a low, breathy voice. “What can I get started for you?”
I take off my hat and sit down on a stool, leaving a seat open on either side of me.
“Hello, yes, Madame and I would each like a rooibos tea latte,” Marianne says.
“Extra cream, extra sugar,” I add.
The young girl’s eyes unfocus in thought, her long eyelashes fluttering as she blinked. “Rooibos…” she repeats. “Do you mind if I go check the back to see if we have any in stock?”
I shrug. “Sure.”
She smiles sweetly, then bows her head with her hand to her chest. As she turns to the door behind the bar, she gives a coy look to the other young man.
Marianne finally sits down next to me. “She’s very pretty,” she offers once the girl is out of earshot.
“Mm,” I grunt. I would have responded further, if I wasn’t distracted by the sideways glances I was receiving from the other patron.
The barista steps out from the backroom. “Hey~,” she cheers, “Looks like we got it!”
I smile and nod.
She gets to work shaving the tea leaves. “So, extra milk and extra sugar, huh?” she says.
I smile and nod again.
She leans over onto the bar and rests her chin on her fist. “If you’re really craving sweet, I could add some bee pollen into the blend,” she offers. “They say it’ll help with allergies, too, if that’s an issue.”
I defer to Marianne.
“Ah, that sounds adventurous !” Marianne says, rather pointedly, I might add.
“You got it.~” the girl said with a wink. She fills a kettle with water and places it on the stove. While that went, she grabs some cream from a box of ice under the bar, and pours it in a bowl to be whipped.
Her eyes drift over to me as I grimace in pain.
“Ah, are you okay?” she asks.
“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” I groan. “Usual adventuring fair, just got back from a real nasty fight.”
The girl’s brows raise. “Wicked, my friend also got in a big fight today.” She turns to face the young man. “Tell ‘em, Riza.”
I glance over at the girl’s friend. His shoulders peak as he buries his face into his drink.
The girl rolls her eyes and scoffs. “He’s shy.”
“I see,” I say dully. “Hey, Marianne?”
Marianne tilts her head. “Yes, Miss?”
“Remind me to contact Ol’ Tiffy, have him look into someone named ‘Rook’.”
“Would you like me to remind you tonight, or tomorrow?” Marianne checked.
I close my eyes and rub gingerly at my side. “Either, or. Doesn’t really matter.”
“Rook, huh?” the barista says. “That the guy who got you?”
I point my finger at her. “Hey, let’s get it clear, I got him! At least until he got away.”
The kettle whistled just in time for the girl to finish whipping the cream. “Think you’ll ever see him, again?” she asked.
I lean back in my seat and shrug. “Who can say?”