A/N: A hundred thanks to Mellifluousness for the cover and title, as well as the suggestion that I publish this in the first place. :3 I hope readers like this. Please comment!
Update as of March 2, 2013: Edited the description with my (slightly) increased skill and a reader's advice (even though that was quite a while ago).
It came utterly unexpectedly; the emotions stormed into me with no apparent reason and all of a sudden I had an uncontrollable desire to banish this harrowing wrath from my mind. And there was only one method.
I dashed out of the walls of Falador, away from safety almost against my will and into the wilderness—
Spider silk boots soundless on the grass and white violet-streaked robes swishing in the air, I raced towards my destination, gripping my staff so tight I thought it might splinter. In my mind, a tempest raged – a whirlwind of fury combined with helplessness, flashing between blood-crimson and stormy maroon. Unlike the past, there was no fear, just despair and anger at what had occurred…yet what did happen?
Before I could make sense of that realisation, I espied the attenuated island extending towards the north, parallel with the shore just in sight of the Crafting Guild. The short, stocky hobgoblins pacing their territory noticed my headlong approach and lumbered towards me, growling deep in their throats as they raised their thick bluish fists.
The last of my long-buried anger – which had no discernible source – finally reared up in my mind, and I screamed as I charged into their midst. From that moment onwards, there was nothing but confusion, conflict and disorder around me. Bolts of concentrated air flew from my staff, dispatching numerous monsters even as their allies pummelled my back, causing pain to lance through my torso. But I was much more powerful.
I heard my voice cry incoherent curses as I annihilated the hobgoblins one after another while they assaulted me in groups, tearing the fabric of my robes. I shoved a few back with the head of my staff before casting a series of spells that fell countless of their kin, but they always, always kept coming. The power of respawning was beginning to reveal itself; the attacks were without end as fallen monsters were replaced by new ones.
Bruises and other wounds began to accumulate on me, but I paid no attention and waded through the mass of hobgoblins further into their island, seeking to enrage them and succeeding.
The spellcasting became paced, the blocks and attacks instinctive, the increasing pain unnoticed. I was soon surrounded by the brutes, their stench almost overwhelming but failing to hinder me as I relied upon sheer will for my strength. I could destroy them individually easily enough, but their numbers were many and I inevitably began to weaken. Even though my mind grew lethargic and my tortured body screamed at me to flee, I stood my ground, grimly defeating each monster as they came at me.
I had not brought any provisions, and although my prayer points were full, I had no intention to heal myself. It was my purpose for being here. I incensed to the point I grew uncaring, and had to unleash my ire in some way…
And now I was stunning my opponents, binding them with my spells and forcing them to their knees with the strength of my magic. They were just as merciless to me, bashing me relentlessly and draining away my health; there were simply too many of them to shield myself from.
As I slowly headed for the island's inner region, I ran into the elites, the ones who not only used their fists but also spears to attack. Soon my robes were dreadfully torn, the bloodstained tatters flying behind me as I pivoted, my health decreasing dramatically as each spearhead found its mark.
As my vision flashed the same colours as my numerous feelings both physical and mental, I continued attacking, beginning to concentrate on offence. My movements slowed and I could feel the life slowly leaking out of me. Still I felt no fear. Still the original emotions dwelled, only stronger. I gritted my teeth as something icy and metallic skewered my shoulder and spun around, summoning all four elements of magic and killing the offending hobgoblin within a second with an explosion of power that passed through me unharmed. The pain of my body increased to the point it blotted out all else – and still I fought.
The beasts were growing confident now, advancing smoothly upon me as my attacks became sluggish. I knew the feeling inside me, even though I had not felt it for so long: I was dying.
Time ceased to have meaning; all I cared for was the present, the gruesome faces of the apoplectic hobgoblins, the feeling of my spells' power coursing through my body. The ground was littered with the remains of the ones I had slain – a great number, no doubt, a mounting and unfaltering figure as the amount of living hobgoblins never decreased.
Soon, even the purpose of attacking vanished. The agony outside matched with what was roiling in my mind, an overpowering combination. As I slew one more, I allowed my staff to drop to my side, letting go of everything but my anguish and despair of which I knew there was no escape from – not in the world of the living.
Why have I come…?
One of them launched at me, sending me falling backwards as we collided. Before I could crash into the ground one of the armed hobgoblins had leapt towards me with a guttural roar; the fiend's glimmering spear was directed at my chest, its deadly approach as though in slow motion.
All I remembered was how I screamed when the weapon pierced my heart.
And then I toppled into darkness.