Summary: An epic drabble of good, evil, somewhere in between, the Fist Of Guthix and a rather short-lived game of cards. Oneshot.
Rating: If you're old enough to read/play Runescape, you should be fine.
Disclaimer: Runescape is the property of Jagex Corporation Ltd. Please don't ban me.
A/N: I don't usually write for games, but I have played this one on and off since 2005, and I've always liked the stories about the gods. I wanted to include more stuff, but I got pretty dried up for ideas after about a page.
Enjoy!
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Walking With Gods
A crackfic by Del Lithium
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Clad in white robe from head to toe, a simple golden amulet hanging from a woollen thread at his throat. Tall, majestic and powerful in the scheme of all of do-gooders around the 'Scape – he was the perfect god.
Saradomin glared angrily across the wooden table.
"I said, do you have any threes?"
Zamorak fanned himself with his hand of cards, and his opponent could detect the faint hint of a self-satisfied smirk; barely concealed in the murky shadows of his cowled robe. Not to mention a whiff of brimstone. That guy should take a shower.
Clad from head to toe in pitch-black fabric, Zamorak was a sight to never be seen – his eyes glowed faintly within his cowl, as red as blood. They were, in fact, the only given clue that he may actually have a face; the rest of his features were obscured in darkness, yet he was still a terrifying sight for any mortal to behold.
But sadly, after living with him for hundreds of years, Saradomin had grown used to such a cocky demeanour.
"Sorry? Trees? There's forests of 'em. You should know, Great Creator…" Zamorak answered casually, the amused tone that crept into his voice undeniable. And, predictably, it infuriated the more benevolent god.
"You know what I mean! A three! Hearts, spades, clubs."
"…Friends list, pickaxes, longswords; yeah, I know, I know," Zamorak grumbled, examining his cards again with deliberate indolence. Saradomin's fingers tapped the table, the minute-by-comparison pile of playing cards between them shuddering slightly with each new impact. After a long moment of silence, his patience withered.
"Well?" he inquired, his tone steely. Zamorak shrugged, leaning back in his seat.
"Go fish," the dark lord told him, with another maddening grin. "You might get past level two, after all. I believe in you."
Saradomin gave him a black look, and picked up another card off the pile. He was losing horribly, and there was nothing that could possibly darken the mood.
That is, until Guthix drifted dreamily into the room.
"Has anybody seen my orb?" the third god asked, seemingly oblivious to the epic battle he'd interrupted. He was tall, and wore pale brown robes that clashed with neither of the others' attire, a curious black and white amulet strung around his neck.
"No," Zamorak said immediately – too fast to be considered innocent. Saradomin heaved a sigh.
"Zamorak, did you take Guthix's orb?"
"I did not!" Zamorak exclaimed, seeming outraged by the accusation. "The flaky noob lost it by himself!"
Saradomin palmed his forehead. "You've started talking like the humans, now."
"I am not a noob!" Guthix retorted, crossing his arms petulantly. "Take it back!"
"I won't!" Zamorak declared, with more than a trace of an evil undertone. "Just try and make me."
"Sara, Zamorak's being evil to me…" Guthix complained, his behaviour bordering on the whiny.
"Don't call me that!" Saradomin protested with a scowl. "That's a ridiculous name for a Great Creator."
Zamorak stifled a malicious chuckle. "Oh, Sara…"
"I don't know where my orb is," Guthix put in, in case anybody had forgotten. And they had.
The glare that Saradomin was now giving Zamorak was electric, scorching enough to melt any human down to their bones. His fists were clenched on the table, his knuckles as white as his robe.
Zamorak resided coolly, almost basking in the glow of Saradomin's anger. "You should watch yourself," he said, casting an eye over his cards as if he were still interested in their game. "You don't want to rain down fury and accidentally obliterate your precious supporters down there in the grandstand of Life. Though unfortunate lives they lead. All of those monks, and no wine…"
"My followers are pure, and need no drink to take away their focus," Saradomin responded, through gritted teeth.
"My followers are pure," Zamorak objected, and paused for a beat. "Evil."
"And that's where you agree to disagree," Guthix put in quietly between their insults, still ruminating on his lost orb. A bad thought had struck him. "Oh dear, Zammy, Sara, you don't think it could have fallen to the scape below us?"
'Zammy' and 'Sara' were suddenly drawn away from their argument. "What?" Saradomin asked, with a measure of interest. "You think you lost your orb?"
"That ain't all he's lost," Zamorak smirked, but he was promptly disregarded.
"Yes. I can't see it from here, so it must have taken to ground somewhere," Guthix said innocently, leaning out the window and peering down at the world below.
"Oh yes," Zamorak put in dryly, leaning back on the hind legs of his chair. "I'm sure it found a nice cavern for itself and just rolled inside and made itself at home."
"If it did, I hope it's all right," Guthix said vaguely, a faint smile wandering onto his face at the prospect. "I'm sure my faithful worshippers will take care of it for me."
"Oh, that bunch of nuts," Saradomin mumbled under his breath, feeling his doubts.
"Ah well, Guth, it'll turn up sooner or later. Maybe you left it in your other set of robes," Zamorak offered helpfully, behind a sinister grin. "I hate to think how it would be after going through the wash…"
"NOOOO!" Guthix screamed, and ran out of the room, desperate to find his orb in the sacred washing basket… before the very worst could happen.
Zamorak cackled wickedly to himself, holding his sides in mirth. "Oh, that was a good one…" he chortled, leaning forward on the table. "Shall we continue our game?"
"Why not?" Saradomin agreed, with a helpless grin at the thought of Guthix digging through the dirty washing. Well… it was funny.
"You're so behind, bright boy, I'm gonna whip your compassionate ass," Zamorak taunted, stacking up his pairs of cards. Saradomin ground his teeth, taking another card.
"We will see."
Far below their battle of wits, in the mortal realms of Runescape, a small band of monks stumbled upon a cavern full of glowing green light, deep in the Wilderness.
"Oh Great Guthix," the first brown-robed devotee voiced a prayer, sinking to his knees. "We thank you for this great and magical… thing that ye have bestowed on us."
"Mere mortals as we are, blessed by this gift," the second one added, his hands also clasped in hope.
"Although stunningly good-looking ones," the last disciple of their companionship piped up, running his fingers through his silky blonde hair.
Alas Guthix, who was busy in the laundry, failed to hear their gratitude.