**About**

This story will eventually be uploaded onto the RuneScape forums - once it is completed. However, for that to happen, I need reviews. I'm posting the story here so that you guys may help me along the way. I need advice, because I want this story to be as great as it possibly can. If you find any errors, please inform me of them. I did have a prologue written out, but I decided to add it in later in the story. Thanks, and enjoy :)

**Summary**

After the world is left torn after the Knight wars, a man named Jet - along with two others - attempt to bring the world back to it's peaceful state.

Chapter 1

Lightly sipping his fresh Asgarnian Ale, Jet looked out the window of the rowdy bar. He often came to this bar to watch the sun, and admire the beauty as it fell beneath the mountains in the distance. The mountains seemed to stretch on endlessly, and as always, Jet pondered about how huge the world really is. He'd never really talked to the others that came to the bar. He kept to himself, finding no interest in socializing at all.

Jet wasn't always this shy, though. He was 19 years old, living in the grand city of Falador. When he wasn't working in the mines, he spent most of his time in his room, isolated from the rest of the world. Sometimes, however, he came to this bar just to adore the simple attraction of nature. He felt himself to be more social with the environment, than with other people. It often worried his older brother, Miles, who was 28.

Occassionally, the owner of the bar would ask Jet why he never sat or communicated with anyone else. Jet always replied by slightly shrugging his shoulders, and sometimes adding a feeble, "Dunno."

Brushing his long, dark brown hair out of his eyes, Jet stood up and pushed the bar doors open. As he walked out, he noticed that the sky was quickly getting darker. He decided to walk through the park before going home. Even as a 19 year old young man, he loved visiting the once-beautiful park. Walking down the path, his hair bouncing behind him, he glanced around at the city. In addition to spending time at the bar, he also enjoyed exploring the city, and watching others live. Even so, he never said a word to anyone else. He kept to himself as he sluggishly walked through the city. He turned to see a small child arguing with his mother.

"But, mommy, I wanted to stay and play with everyone else!"

"It's getting late, young one. I'm sure your friends have left as well. They'll be there tomorrow."

Jet overheard this conversation, and a smile found its way across his face. The child forced him to think about what it would be like to have a mother of his own. His parents had been taken away 10 years ago, during the war. He had been vaguely educated about the war when it first broke out. It was a constant struggle for power between the Black Knights of Gelinor and the White Knights of Gelinor. Unfortunately for Jet, the Black Knights were rapidly growing in power, and eventually won the war, capturing Falador. They sent in troops to invade the homes of the innocent civilians, sending the sick and the elderly to death camps. However, they left the ones who were capable of working, and turned Falador into a labor camp. The beautiful, massive city that Falador once was, had turned into a depressed place of work. The amount of crime was skyrocketing, due to the fact that people were paid very little for working. Jet and his brother, Miles, were assigned to work in the mines to collect ore. They were paid almost nothing for their hard work.

The grass crunched beneath his feet as he stepped toward the fountain in the park. Clinging back to reality, he splashed water across his face, and took a deep breath. Still, after 10 years, he hated himself for watching the Black Knight take his parents away, and watching silently. He will always remember the face of the man who ruined his life, and the feeling of it haunted him like a ghost.

The sun had been gone, and Jet was consumed by the darkness. He enjoyed the calm wind of the Spring night, but decided it was time to head home. He stood, and began to drag his feet along the dirt path. Spotting a shiny object in the ground, he curiously walked over to it. It was bright white, covered by green leaves. He noticed that they were dwellberries! When Jet was very young, his mother had told him a tale about dwellberries. She noted that they were blessed by the Gods, and that anyone to come across one was charmed with luck for a few moments. Jet's interest in silly legends was low to moderate. He had hardly any interest in Gods either, sometimes even doubting their existence. People who worked at the mines with Jet and Miles have always talked about the three Gods - Saradomin, Zamorak, and Guthix - claiming that anyone fortunate enough to meet one of them was "enlightened". Jet hadn't fully understood what that meant, but he always went along with it. He decided to pick the leaves off of the dwellberries, and stared at them for a bit. He then stretched his arm to cram the leaves into his pocket. It was a silly legend, but it was something that reminded him of his mother. Nodding to himself, he began to turn home.

Nearing the Falador marketplace, Jet heard a noise. It came from behind him. Puzzled, he turned around to find himself in front of two tall, muscular men. They tried to hide the look of fear eliciting from their eyes. Jet saw their fear, however, and wondered if he was giving off the same vibe. They both had shaved heads, and were slightly overweight. One of them smiled, and held up his hand, revealing a short dagger clenched between his fist. The shock of seeing the sharp weapon sent a chill down Jet's spine. "Look, I don't want any trouble," Jet admitted. His deep voice echoed in the empty park.

The man with the dagger chuckled, "There won't be any trouble, once you give us that pack you got there." He spit the words through a deep, intimidating voice.

Jet reached behind him and felt the pack that hung from his shoulders. It contained the money that he had earned from working in the mines. It wasn't much, but he needed it to pay the tax collectors. He wasn't planning on just handing it over. Instead, he reached further across his back and grabbed the medium-sized sword that was attached to his belt pouch. He had always carried it around for protection, ever since the city was penetrated with thieves. His father had given it to him when he was taken by the Black Knight. His father was a well-respected guard of Falador before the war. This is how Jet learned most of his fighting techniques. He knew that it'd come back to him when he really needed it most. He needed it most now.

Knowing that they were thieves, Jet drew his sword, and tension built very quickly. The three men were sizing each other down. Very quietly. Waiting to strike.