Daron's Quest

by Paint a story. Write a picture

9Daron99 doesn't live a fancy life with his wife Katra, he's a glorified tramp, who hasn't done anything with his life, and doesn't know how to. But when a Dark Dragon invades his village, and kills hundreds, he knows what he must do. Slay the Dragon.

2. Chapter 2 The Quest Begins

Daron's Quest
Chapter 2: The Quest Begins

"I was in Yañé at the time the Dark Dragon came and killed Katra, remember? I sent you here, out of harm's way," the man reminded him. At the last two words, Daron's face fell, the memory came back to him. "I'm sorry about Katra, Daron. I really am." Ulrich stepped forward and rested a hand on Daron's shoulder. Daron paused, and considered.

"No, this isn't right. You knew my name. You knew Katra's name. You knew where I live. You know a hell of alot more than you should, Ulrich." Ulrich ignored this.

"Daron, do you want to go back to Yañé?" He said quietly. Daron did not answer for a while. Silence followed, as Daron stared at nowhere in particular, dwelling over this proposition. It was a simple choice, yes or no. But, it was not an easy choice. Seeing Katra would break him, but, he had to say goodbye. Yes, he had to say goodbye. He had to go.

"Yeah," Daron muttered, just loud enough for Ulrich to hear. Daron closed his eyes, he felt Ulrich hold him close as they fell into the Teleport that would take Daron baack to Katra.

Daron rubbed his backside as he landed on hard, unforgiving concrete of Yañé. He opened his eyes.

"No ..." Daron said aloud, as he looked around at what was left of Yañé. Corpses, mutilated and disfigured, littered the streets, some buried amongst the rubble of the buildings nearby that had been destroyed. There were few buildings left in sight that hadn't crumbled at the strike of the cataclysm. A few survivors were walking amongst the carnage, devastated, some crying alone, some in the arms of family or friends, some leaning over the dead bodies of their loved ones. The Dragon had crippled Yañé to breaking point, and there was little left to be crippled anymore. His hometown, reduced to the rubble that covered the corpses. The dead bodies of people that meant something to Yañé, somebody's mother or father, husband or wife, son or daughter. The sight saddened Daron. Ulrich remained adamant, but Daron knew that, inside, he was mourning the people of Yañé in his head. It was a few minutes before they stepped forward, walking amongst the wreckage. Daron knew what he was looking for, and it wouldn't be hard with half of the village flattened. Yet, it was about five minutes before he and Ulrich had stumbled onto the right place. The dead body of a woman lay dumped upon the floor. Daron walked up to her. It was definitely Katra. The shock, and fear, was still etched upon her beautiful face, held forever. Daron kneeled down, and leaned closer towards her. Stroking her hair gently, he bent towards her, and kissed her on the forehead. Tears came, as he gently closed her eyelids, and stood up. Ulrich rested his hand on Daron's shoulder, and said to him, quietly,

"Daron, do you still have Katra's sword?" Daron did not reply, but he nodded, and, standing up, pulled out the enchanted Rune sword that had passed down Katra's family for so many generations, and now would not pass on by blood. He held it in his hands, Ulrich lifted in gently, and held the hilt in his hand, that was now gloved again. Then, with the other hand, he grabbed the hilt, and pulled it. Daron's tear-stained eyes widened. Instead of just tugging away, another completely identical sword slid away from the Rune sword, it was exactly the same, carrying the same enchantment. The original one, Ulrich handed back to Daron. Daron recovered quickly, he took the original sword, and gently placed it by Katra's side. Then, Daron rolled her onto her back, and moved her arms into a dignified position.

"Here, let me heal her wound," said Ulrich gently, moving past Daron, towards Katra. He raised his hands, as a pure white energy began to amass, a magical substance whiter than snow. Then, leaning towards her, he placed his hands on her mutilated stomach. If Daron had been surprised when Ulrich had duplicated the enchanted sword, he was now amazed. As Ulrich closed his eyes, and the energy swirled about his hands, the grotesque body organs hanging, limp, from Katra's torso, slid back, like snakes burrowing into a hole in the ground. Her skin began to regrow, fizzing as it formed over her stomach, closing the wound, and her blood dried up, then evaporated. Within a minute, Katra looked as if she had never been touched. Her ripped clothes had even reformed. Ulrich smiled warmly at her, and then rose to his feet. Daron was astounded. He could not believe what he had just seen. Dazed, he stepped forward, towards Ulrich, and pulled him into a hug. Ulrich patted Daron on the back, and muttered in his ear,

"We should go, Daron, before it gets any harder. You've said goodbye, now, come on, let's go." Daron closed his eyes, and nodded resignedly, knowing that it would not get any easier to leave if he stayed her for the rest of his life." Still holding onto Daron, Ulrich dropped a Teleport, to take them over to Kalan. Daron fell, but was used to the sensation already, he did not react.

He landed softly, this time, upon grass. Looking around, he took in the suburbia, Kalan was not vast, nor mighty, but it was peaceful. Few buildings hung around, instead there were mostly houses, and market stalls, with people milling about conspicously amongst others, none appearing to be doing much whatsoever. Outside the small region were grassy fields, a wind farm in the distance, and a small stream trailing off into the distance. There were few trees around, just grass and small plants filling the horizon. Kalan couldn't have been easy to find if you didn't know where to look. He thought he recognised the spot where Ulrich had taken him first, but, all the fields looked identical. Ulrich did not speak. Daron looked behind him, about to ask Ulrich where they were going to go, but, there was no-one there. Ulrich was gone. He had vanished into the wind. Ran off, probably, abandoning Daron to do nothing with himself. Daron felt a wave of anger swoop over him, before he felt sadness, and loneliness. He was right next to Kalan, but, that changed nothing. Katra wasn't there with him. He might have enjoyed coming somewhere like here, for a holiday, with her. That would have been blissful. They could've sat under the shade of a tree, lay down a mat and enjoy a picnic with one another, laughing, and talking to each other, and holding each other in their arms. But, no, that couldn't happen anymore. Katra was dead, now. Daron sat down, and sighed. Tears did not come, anymore. Just desolate misery. Desolate misery. That sounded poetic. But poetry would not help him now, he thought, returning to his senses, nothing would. There was little or nothing for it, now. He could wait here five minutes, ten minutes, an hour, but another Ulrich would not come along. He was alone, now, and had to find some way of starting his new life. It struck Daron, that he did not know how to live, in truth. He did not know how to cook, how to light a fire, how to craft or smelt or smith or mine a thing. Katra would have known. She would have been able to help him learn. Maybe ... there was somebody in the village, or a group of people, a tutoring program, perhaps. Or a tutorial, of sorts. Maybe there was an island, somewhere away from Azñaon, which held everything he needed to learn within, a Tutorial Island of sorts. Or, maybe there was somewhere in Kandarin, or Misthalin, the places near by Azñaon.

Azñaon was within neither, it was an island off of Kandarin. Daron had heard of Kandarin, Katra had told him all about it, years ago, when they had first met. He had never been there, though, he had never set foot outside of Azñaon. To be honest, he hadn't even ventured that far out of Yañé, only a few small villages within two or three miles. He wondered if there were Dragons on Azñaon ...
Daron thought of the Dragon. He did not even know how to fight, he wouldn't be much use put up against a Dragon. He got up, and started walking towards Kalan. It took him less than a minute to get there, Ulrich had brought him right to the outskirts. Walking through the houses and market stalls, he was unnoticed by the residents of Kalan, who still seemed to be doing nothing in particular but walking animatedly one way or the other. A few were talking, else stopping at a stall to buy some fruit, or bread, or meat, or even fish. Daron looked lustfully at the stalls filled with fresh food, enough for one man to never be hungry again. Forcing himself to move past it, he delved further into Kalan. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, maybe someone who could help him, or give him somewhere to stay. As he looked around the streets that were becoming a little more cluttered, he saw a clearing in the row of buildings, a large, grassy area, enclosed by a low, wooden fence. There were dozens of trees around here, but nobody there. At least, it looked like that. Curious, he stepped forward, towards the garden-like enclosure. It looked out of place in a suburban village.

He thought he saw a tree rustle. It shook, first lightly, and then more violently, leaves started to shed from it. And, just behind it, Daron could hear a strange sound coming from it, something whacking against the tree trunk. Then, without warning, the tree fell down altogether, leaving a bare tree stump. Behind it, was revealed a man, bulky and well-built, with a rough, un-even face, a scarlet short-sleeved shirt showing his huge muscles, and green trousers held up by straps wrapped around his shoulders. In his hands, he carried an axe, but much bigger than a conventional woodcutting axe, as Daron recognized it to be, with a blood-red, curved blade, and a large, elder-wood handle. The blade was the colour of a dragon, a red dragon, Daron knew a little about them from books he had read as a child. The huge man did not look satisfied, he merely continued to cut down the next tree. Daron, out of curiosity, stepped forward, and walked into the enclosure. As the man hacked away at the tree with the axe that Daron didn't know was a Dragon axe, he turned around, as Daron approached.

"Why're you cutting down all this?" Daron asked him. The man looked bemused.

"Why? I'm training woodcutting, thankyou very much," he said, as, with one last almighty swing, he felled the tree. Daron was puzzled.

"Training? Wood cutting?" He reiterated. The man chortled.

"Woodcutting, it's one word, and it's a skill," the man explained. "I take it you're new to skills?"

"I guess I am," said Daron, shrugging. The man walked towards Daron.

"Well, then, let me explain to you," said the man, smiling. "There are 24 skills, basic abilities, with certain aspects of them. At the start of your life, all your skills start at 1, except for your health, which is how many hits you can take before you die. In Kandarin and Misthalin, the lucky sods have something, a source of magic which enables them to come back to life after death. No such privilege in Azñaon, but, hey, there you go. That's why you've gotta be careful, and why some parents tend not to want to teach kids combat, incase they get themselves killed. Makes sense, really. Oh, I forgot to even mention that skills come in levels, you were probably wondering what I meant by 'all skills start at 1'. So, yeah, they start at level 1, except for hitpoints. You can get skills up, by training them, such as, woodcutting ..." The man walked over to the trees.

"When I cut down a tree, I get logs, obviously, and, from this, I get experience. Some folks call it xp, but I call it experience. If I cut alot of trees, and get alot of experience, eventually, I'll go up a level. And, as I get lots of levels up, I can cut better trees. Right now, my woodcutting level is 99, which means I can cut normal trees, oak trees, maple trees, willow trees, eucalyptus trees, magic trees, all kinds. Right now, you, can only cut normal trees. There are some right here. Give it a go, take this spare axe I have on me, and try and cut down a tree," said the man, handing Daron a normal woodcutting axe.

"Why can't I borrow yours?" Daron asked him. He chuckled.

"Because, firstly, I value this Dragon axe ..." Daron winced at the word 'Dragon', "And, secondly, because you can't wield it yet! Levels also count for what equipment you can wield, sometimes, so, right now, at Level 1 woodcutting, you can only wield a normal axe. As you get your levels up, you can wield better axes, until, eventually, in alot of time to come, you'll be able to wield this." The man gestured at the Dragon axe. Daron walked over to a nearby tree. The man steered him round, and pointed to another tree.

"This one, you can cut." Daron held the axe in his hands. Weighing it in his hands, he was quite unsure of what to do with it. He had never used an axe before, never even held one. The man laughed, as he saw Daron quite clueless. "Alright, kid, let me help you out." The man walked towards Daron, and took the axe. He grabbed Daron, and led him over to the nearest tree. "Cutting down a tree is simple. All you have to do, is use the axe properly. Now, hold it ..." Daron held it, the man took Daron's hands and raised them. "Grip it tightly, make sure you have a firm hold on that handle ... good, yeah. Now, gently, lift it back ... and swing in the direction of the tree."

Daron held the axe as tightly as he could, his hands were going red, as he lifted the axe back. The axe was so heavy for Daron, that, he fell backwards, and nearly landed on the axe, which he would have done, had the man not caught him just in time.

"Careful, mate, remember, if you die in Azñaon, you die for good." Daron bit his lip. He brought up the axe one more time. Pulling it back, preparing to swing, he heard a thud and somebody falling to the floor. He turned around. The man was lying on the floor, clutching his nose, which Daron had hit with the handle by accident. Seeing what he had done, Daron clasped his hands to his mouth, and, in doing so, dropped the axe, which landed on the man's toe, causing him to swear in pain. Fortunately, the blade had not hit him. He got up, Daron reiterating apologies as the man dismissed them, urging him to try one last time with the tree. So Daron lifted the axe, for the third time. He lifted it back ... and he let go. Stifling a scream as the axe flew out of his reach, and out of the enclosure, the man had seen what happened. Within one second, the man had withdrawn a few strange silver stones, and amassed a bright orb of energy. Daron had no time to look amazed, for the man had fired the orb before Daron could blink, it pierced through the air, and collided with the axe. Orb and axe, disappeared. The moment the magical ball of energy had made contact with the axe, it had consumed the axe within, and imploded. Daron was amazed, and even more amazed as he saw the man carrying that same axe in his hands. He was angry. Clutching the axe tight in his hands, he walked towards Daron, and placed the axe down on the floor.

"You've got to be careful, for the sake of Saradomin! You could have killed someone! If I hadn't stopped that axe in mid-air, it would've stabbed someone!" Taking his Dragon Axe, he walked towards a tree. Daron thought that he had given up on him, that he was now going back to what he was doing, leaving Daron, to waste away, but then, he barked, "Now watch me, kid!" The man brought the axe back, and swung at the tree, hitting it at the base. Within one swing, he had felled it. "You bring the bloody axe back, hold it tight, don't let go, and then swing. How hard is that supposed to be, kid, ay? He picked up the bronze axe from the ground. He then handed it to Daron.
"Who d'ya hate most in life? Who? (And don't say me, for the sake of Saradomin!)" The man barked at Daron.
"Dragons," replied Daron simply. The man pointed at the tree.
"See that tree over there? That tree's a Dragon. Now go get it!" He shouted. "Go slay it, boy! Hack it's chest and stab it's heart!" Daron held the axe. he gripped it tightly. He thought of Katra, again, and the Dragon that had slayed her. He would slay that Dragon. He would get revenge, some day. He would kill it himself. One day, he would go to Misthalin, in search of the Dragon, he knew they mostly lived above Misthalin. Everything seemed to go in slow motion. The man's shouts of encouragement were drowned away, as Daron could hear only his own heartbeat. He looked down at the axe.

He, would slay the Dark Dragon.

He ran. He turned around, without even thinking, and ran, the anger, the bitter memories, the sadness, the feelings he felt when the Dragon had killed Katra. He would avenge her, he thought, as he ran towards the tree, it got nearer, and nearer, raising the axe, and letting out a roar of anger, he brought it back. He brought the axe down with all the force he could gather in his body, and thrust the blade upon the bark of the tree. He could do it. He could do it. He did do it! The blade sliced through the heart of the tree, and with an almightly lurch, the tree fell from it's stump, crashing to the ground. Breathing heavily, he dropped the axe onto the ground, raised his arms, and cheered. The man, all anger forgotten, now walked over sporting a huge grin, and gave him a huge slap on the back, which almost winded him, but made him pleased nonetheless.
"You did it, kid. See that brown dragon with lots of bushy green arms, lying on it's side? That's because of you!" Daron was cheerful. "But, you know, I've gotta ask. Why Dragons? You afraid of them? 'Cause, to be honest, I can't say I've ever seen a Dragon in Azñaon ..." Daron's face fell. His cheery grin became a stony glare, and the man trailed off.

"Yañé. That's where I come from. A Dark Dragon came to Yañé and killed my wife, along with three quarters of the people in our area. It also destroyed most of Yañé." The man frowned.

"That must be hard on you." Daron nodded. "You know, we never properly introduced, my name's Koschei." Koschei held out a hand. Daron shook it.

"9Daron99, but call me Daron. What's your full name?" Koschei frowned.

"Koschei is my full name. Although, some call me Koschei the Deathless. That or Koschei the Invisible, because, for some reason, nobody can see my combat level." Daron looked puzzled. "Oh, your combat level is your main level, it's affected by seven skills, and, the higher combat level you are, the more powerful you are. I'm only a level 138 right now, but, some people actually believe I hold the magic ability that renders me capable of breaking the restriction. For everyone else, 138 is the highest level you can attain, but, you know, I'm still gaining experience past the level people say it should stop at." Daron frowned aswell.

"That's strange."

"Yeah, I know. One day, I hope to be something real good one day, I mean, I'm already good, but some day, I want to be the best in Gielinor, above everybody," Koschei admitted. Daron smiled.

"That'd be wonderful. A sword in hand, and strength of mind, body, and soul, that would be true power."

Koschei groaned.
"Honestly, I hate proverbs. The pen's mightier than the sword, or whatever, but the pen won't slice your enemy in half. Oh, bless Zamorak, that's a bloody proverb." This made Daron laugh. Koschei smiled too, but couldn't resist grinning. He dropped the smile, muttering, "Damn, I've gotta try and keep a neutral attitude." Koschei shook his head violently like somebody who was dizzy, trying to snap out of it. "I'm mentally training myself, aswell as physically training myself. If I'm going to be invincible one day, a positive demeanour won't help," Koschei explained. Ignoring this, Daron asked,

"You know, I never did ask ... these skills of mine ..." Koschei nodded to show he was listening. "I don't know them. I've no idea how to find out about my skills, or, how to keep track of them ... how do I do that?" Koschei looked upwards, as if trying to remember something, and then, fishing around in his pockets, he pulled out a scrap of parchment. He handed it to Daron.

"This is something you'll need throughout your life. Once you take it, it's impossible to get rid of it. Right now, it's blank ..." said Koschei, as Daron unfurled the piece of parchment, which indeed had nothing on it.

"But tap it with your finger, and it will be revealed. It'll only reveal for you, and you alone, now that it's in your posession. If I didn't want to give this to you, then you'd never be able to use it. I carry alot of spares, because newspawn are always bugging me to help them." Daron tapped the piece of parchment. He gasped. Where his finger had tapped it, a black, circular imprint appeared. It flickered through the colours of the rainbow, rapidly, as it spread across the paper, like spilled ink, lacing in and around the paper, colours forming, words shining upon it. Across the top, as if an invisible hand were writing the words: Skills List. Below that were two squares, one read: "Total Level," and carried the number "33" on it, next to that was a square labelled "Combat Level" with a mere 3 inside it. And beneath these two squares, were 24 squares, each with an Icon, and a fraction next to it. 23 of them read "1/1", but one in the middle of the top row read "10/10", next to a heart icon.

"That's your skill list. Tap one of the icons, Daron." Daron looked around, and tapped the picture of a wizard hat. Suddenly, the list disappeared, the ink fading away, and, in it's place, another list. At the top, it read "Magic". On the right-hand column were a few words, but in the main column, were more icons and words. Daron knew little of this, but this was what explained to him about each skill, and at what level he could do what. Koschei explained this to him.

"Oh, and, you'll need a back-pack aswell. To keep all your things in." Koschei held out his hands, as if feeling for rain, and, all of a sudden, it was with a dazzling light, that the shape of a back-pack materialized, and solidified. He handed the back-pack to Daron.

"Whoa, I can't wait to be able to make back-packs appear out of thin air!" Daron enthused, grinning. Koschei gave a smile.

"You need a high Magic and Summoning level. Very high. Practically above 90." Daron's face fell, but the enthusiasm soon came back when Daron returned his attention to the Skills List. While he was distracted, Koschei went back to cutting trees.

Eventually, Daron, who had been browsing through all the skills he might one day master, said to Koschei, "Does this mean I can get a house? It says here, something about being able to get a house! I'd love be able to have my own house, I've always lived in ..." Daron trailed off, and decided not to end that sentence, which would have reminded himself how he'd spent so many years of his life living in Katra's house.

"Ah, the Construction skill." Koschei paused. "That's a very expensive skill, Daron. You're familiar with currency, I take it?" Daron nodded. "Well, to reserve some land to build your house, you need 1k. To build rooms, you need 1k, then 5k, then 10k, going even past 50k. Some trees cost 10k. The planks involved can cost from 250gp to 1.5k each. So, really, you need good skills in other things before you can make a house."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Oh well."

"Listen, Daron, enough talk about life on Gielinor ... I know nothing 'bout you other than your name," said Koschei.

"I could say the same thing about you, Koschei."

"Point taken. But, really, what brought you to Kalan? Yañé's on the other side of Azñaon, there're nearer villages that'd be able to accomodate you." Daron launched into explanation about the Dragon in Yañé, and how the mysterious man, Ulrich, had saved him, and, after letting him pay his last respects to what was left of Katra, how he had taken him over to Kalan, and then disappeared. Koschei listened closely as Daron told him his story, and did not speak until Daron was finished.

He nodded, with genuine interest, as Daron stopped talking. "But, what the hell did he expect you to do with yourself, now?" He said. Daron shrugged.

"The man was kind enough to drop me off here and leave without any suggestions as to that," said Daron, calmly. Koschei put his axe gently away in his bag, and walked over to Daron.

"C'mon, come with me, Daron." Daron followed him, out of the woodcutting enclosure, and back into the boring streets. He turned down a different path, and crossed many winding lanes, until the buildings stood behind them. Daron did not ask where they were going. Instead, he followed Koschei, as they walked down to a pier. It was not in Kalan, but next to it, and Daron wondered what it was doing here. Next to the pier, was a shabby old pub, with a plaque at the top, that read, "Sailor's Respite."

"Let's go get a drink, kid. Koschei pushed open the door, and had to drop his head to step inside. Pulling Daron with him, he walked up to the bar, and rested his hands on the counter. Behind it was a tall, middle-aged man, balding, with a black beard, and thick eyebrows. His face was ruddy, a disgruntled look about him, and his pot-belly made it difficult for him to move around, as he cleaned beer glasses with a dirty, ragged cloth, that looked as if it had been pulled out of a marsh. As Daron approached, the bartender eyed him suspiciously, before Koschei said to him,

"S'okay, Rat, he's safe." The bartender, who Daron thought Koschei had called Rat, nodded curtly, as Koschei sat down, and beckoned Daron to follow suit. "This is Daron, Rat, he comes from Yañé." Rat nodded again, and gave a grunt, before asking Koschei in a deep rough voice what he wanted to order.

"Two Dragon Bitters." Another grunt came from Rat, who went over to get a beer glass, and filled it up. "Now, Daron, we need to talk," said Koschei in a low voice, so only Daron could hear him. Daron nodded.

"What is it?" He said.

"The pier outside goes to Kandarin. I think it's time that your life begins."