You know, life is a funny thing. One day, you're content with being rich and popular. Next day, you're running for your life from a hoard of mindless beasts. Many may have told a tale like this before but it was never fully true. Now, I will tell the tale, from beginning to end, truly. Many may tell their parts of this but those who I disallow, I shall hunt down and slaughter them and leave their bodies for the beasts.
Therefore, now my tale begins...
It was a fine summer day. Beggars were crying for money, the rich strutting about, laughing at the poor and the middle class, smiling contentedly. A scream pierced the air, catching the attention of all. A man covered in blood was assaulting a young woman. He seemed to be trying to tear her throat out. The woman tried to push him off but the bloodstained man tore into her arm. She screamed in agony, blood seeping through the wound that had a large chunk of flesh missing. A warrior wearing a weird Brassard that barely covered any flesh, a powerful pair of legs made of the same material and no helmet on.
He was wearing a long cape, made of extremely powerful cloth, strong enough to stop a blade's bite. On his belt, two dangerous looking daggers hung. In his hands, a drawn blade and whip were out. The whip, fused with darkness, had the ability of burning all it touched apart from the wielder. The blade, made out of Dragonite, was powerful enough to cut through stone and butter yet extremely light. His hands were gauntleted in the same material as his armor. His boots were simple climbing boots for rough terrain.
The warrior grabbed the attacker off the woman and threw him into the wall.
“You Bastard! Why attack her?” He called to the man. The man growled and leapt at him, seemingly unaffected after being thrown at high speed into a wall. The warrior stabbed the man in the stomach then quickly ripped his sword upwards and cut open the man then yanked it out. He kicked it to the ground.
The monster got up and bit into the throat of a nearby watcher, tearing out the jugular and causing a lot of blood to pour out the wound. Everyone screamed and the warrior stared in shock. Even a dragon would be dead from such a strike. This was a new beast and now He was interested. The beast kept leaping and tearing into people's throats. Then it went back and tore into their flesh, eating it. The warrior quickly ran up to the beast and stabbed it through the head. It fell down, dead this time.
Jack sighed. So much death for a simple assault yet so powerful... Suddenly, those who had been killed by the beast rose from the ground and started biting into other people. Everyone started screaming. Jack used the mental link people could share with their friends to communicate to 4 of his friends. “Nameless pain, meet me in Edgeville! No buts, this is fucking bad! You too Jen, Razor and Roy!” Jack raised his hand into the air and quickly yelled aloud, “PADDEWA TELEPORT!”
I always thought Gielinor would die from a massive war, one many times more deadly than the God Wars of the Third Age. There would be a great battle, greater than any, where all the Gods would walk among us and fight beside their fractions. There would be a plague, slaughtering the forces from the inside. But the true judgment day was different.
There was a plague but it slipped by all the forces, tearing everyone from the inside out, turning them into monsters that fed on those they once were. Before the Legends and Heroes had time to assemble, before the Big Guys had time to turn the key and stop it, It was over. All were dead, or worse. Those who survived wondered if they were either damned or lucky. Those who died were safe. Those who turned, cursed. I wonder if it was worth the effort.
As Jack landed nimbly out the teleport, he saw Nameless pain jump out of another teleport nearby.
“Ok Jack, what's happening?” Nameless asked.
“See for yourself…” Jack said, shooting a barrage of ice into a rock, turning it into a scrying glass.
“Lumbridge Scry...” Jack muttered.
Nameless pain looked into the glass and went so white, you thought he'd died. People were tearing into each other, ripping out their throats, biting into legs, arms, chests, faces. Beasts that appeared from the gods were torn to bits, not to rise again. Those whom had been torn into were rising, almost hours after bites on the arms or legs. Serious bites caused quicker spreading. Nameless pain puked, almost resenting looking in.
