A/N: In which Geoff meets an old friend for drinks, deals with those ever-infuriating highwaymen, and realizes how far Katrine's willing to go… and how deep he's in. Disclaimer: As Geoff does not exist in Runescape, the events listed in this story are not actually true, and as far as I know, it is impossible to write on a banknote.

Chapter Nine

"A door below? Below what?"

"…A door below. It's behind a door below."

Geoff sighed. "Alright then. Thank you, I'll… get right on that."

The oracle smiled mysteriously and waved. "You do that, Geoffrey Dawnsen! The information you seek will take you far indeed!"

He nodded and turned back to the South, dropping the visor back over his face. The wind bit into him anyway, cutting right through the armor. He shuddered and continued down the mountain, the snow crunching under his boots all the way. The wind howled through the icy trees, and the pale sky seemed… farther, somehow, despite actually being closer. He shivered again and rubbed his hands together, cursing under his breath.

The descent down was slippery—he supposed it would be easier to take the actual path, but he was in a hurry. "Door below… below ground, it's got to be." Rocks sliding out from under him, Geoff came skidding to a stop just short of the Dwarven walls.

"Geoff! Oi, what're you doin' 'ere?" Geoff glanced around to see an older, grizzled dwarf hurrying towards him.

"Thodrek!" He came forward and clasped hands with the miner. "I'm here for a quest, actually—how're you?"

The dwarf shrugged and shouldered his pickaxe. "I'm alrigh', mostly. But tha's all the same—I want t' hear abou' what ye've been doin'!" Geoff could see the smile beneath the thick beard, and grinned back. "'M serious, Geoff—I've jes' finished a cart full o' coal, an' exchangin' a few tall ones down in Falador's exac'ly wha' I need."

Geoff laughed and nodded. "Sounds good, Thod—d'you think you can help me out with something, though?" He followed the dwarf through the buildings, down to the ladder.

Thodrek laughed over his shoulder as he climbed down into the mine. Geoff smiled to himself; for a dwarf, Thod was one of the most cheerful people he'd ever met. Thod and his buddy Galmir had actually been the two who pulled him out of the Black Knight's reach, and he'd always helped the warrior out when he could. Geoff had, in return, spent long days beside the miners, always ready to axe down a scorpion when called for.

"Always askin' fer a favor, ye humans!" Geoff groaned and gave him a playful shove as they turned down the tunnel. "What's up, Geoff?"

"It's this quest—d'you know of any strange doors, underground?"

Thodrek blinked at him, coming to a full stop on the tunnel floor. "Aye, that I do. Why d'you need tha' door?" Geoff paused, and Thod shook his head. "The Dragon? Geoff, why would ye wan' t' do tha'? Ye're a NPC, ye don' even need quests!"

Geoff sighed and pushed up his visor. "It's a dragon, Thod. Isn't that enough?"

He frowned. "No. Fer an adventurer normal, I'd say aye, fer a dwarf, I'd call it th' treasure. Fer you? Ye would've done't a year ago, an' ye wouldn't be botherin' wi' all this an' the maps. An' there's dragons all over, no' jes' on Crandor." The dwarf folded his arms and glared at him. "An' if ye don' give me a reason square, ye c'n find the door on yer own – I ain't gonna give ye a key so y'can go off an' get killed somewhere."

"It's a dragon, and I'm from Crandor, and I happen to be an adventurer too, at that. Just not a normal one. Now—I know you know."

Thodrek shook his head. "Aye." He pointed to the left as they turned down the rocky corridor. "It's down there—but I hold ye're a damned fool, anyway." Geoff nodded, a grin on his face once more. "Ain't we all, though, when it ge's down t' the bones? It's yer homeland, calls ye—an' not summat ye'd ignore so easy."

Geoff looked down at him, but couldn't find a reply. They walked on in silence through the laughing miners and snapping scorpions, until the gray stone staircase loomed up ahead, and he glanced down at his companion. "Thod, what kind of drinks do they sell in Falador?"

The dwarf looked at him suspiciously. "I ge' the Dwarven Stout, or th' ale—Wizards Mind Bomb ain't worth a belch."

Geoff grinned widely. "Got that right." He held the door into the city wide as they exited the small hut, out into the bright sun.

The traders shouted, the merchants shoved, and everywhere would-be miners jostled for ores and axes. Geoff and Thod exchanged amused glances as they pushed their way through the noisy crowd. The sun became slightly darkened through the brightly colored haze overhead, individual messages lost in the jumbled nonsense as the shouts rose to a fever pitch, frenzied merchants growing more and more agitated in the crowd.

"Know what they were selling?" The crowd began to thin, as they pushed past the bank.

Thod raised his voice, shaking his head in disgust. "Some kind o' hat o' somethin', I don' know. They go abs'lutely insane o'er abou' anythin'."

He laughed and nodded, pushing through the last few players up towards the Rising Sun Inn. Soon enough, they passed the forge, where three or four miners stood exchanging ores and bars. Thod paused to glance in the open door, and Geoff waited, laughing at him as the players gave him a deer-in-the-headlights stare.

"Dude, it's a dwarf…"

"I kno, whats he doing up here??"

I dont kno maybe its som kindof event or somthin"

He shook his head again and followed Geoff to the bar. "I allus think there'll be someone worth talkin' to, seein's it's a forge an' all, but I ain't seen one yet."

The warrior shrugged and ordered two Stouts – and a Wizard's Mind Bomb, which Thod didn't comment on. "You never know. So, what do you want to hear? I haven't seen you in quite a while."

Thod grinned. "Wha's last thin' ye fought?"

He laughed and turned for the stairs. "How's the balcony sound? And you picked the best I've got to offer right now."

They headed up and sat down out overlooking the moat, and Geoff stretched out, taking a deep draft of his ale before beginning.

"So there I was, right, in the Northlands."

"'Ow'd ye win' up there?"

Geoff laughed. "Long story… mainly for some cash. I wanted to have a reason to go to the store—there's this girl, up in Edgeville…"

"A girl?" He raised an eyebrow at the storyteller, who ducked his head."

"Yes, a girl; she's very pretty, and we have a date for the day after tomorrow." The red clouds over the castle gave him pause, and he grinned. Thod shook his head and took another drink, motioning for him to continue. "Well, I'd gotten past the forest when I realized how late it was, but there were a whole pride and a half of bears in between me and the South, so that took a while—quite a few nasty ones in there." He pulled off his body armor to show the dwarf the tears from the claws along his shirt, and Thodrek winced. "The real fun started halfway back, though. I was just passing this huge grey hill when this whole horde of skeletons ambushed me!" Thod spit over the side of the balcony—Geoff remembered that whole thing dwarves have about the undead and laughed. "You'll love this, then."

The tale, start to finish, of how Geoffrey the Axe battled his way through a horde of skeletons and barely made it to the ditch with three hitpoints to spare, lasted through much of the evening, and by the time he'd satisfied Thodrek's lust for adventure and heard all the latest news from the underworld, dusk was falling fast. They started back down, just in time to meet a wandering group of drunken Players who clapped Geoff on the back and, hiccupping, offered both of them spots in their new up-and-coming Guild, which they both politely declined.

Well, Geoff declined it politely. Thod kicked the guy in the shins and told him to stop spitting ale all over him. This elicited a very rude response, and things got progressively worse, right up until Geoff punched the guy in the face, and the entire party began falling over themselves on their way out of Falador. Usually, when a single, unarmed punch lands eight hitpoints, running away isn't a bad idea.

And so it was with exuberant cheerfulness that the pair bid farewell on the steps of the Mining Guild, and cheerful weariness that Geoff returned to the nearly deserted residential area of the city, found his way to one of the upper floor's cots—"technically a bed," and collapsed.

He was up before the dawn, though, and stretching out in the early calm, wincing occasionally at the light headache the night had left him with. The air was cool and crisp, though, and before long he'd worked through it and was fitting his armor back on. By the time the sunrise had begun to show over the distant mountains and the city wall, Geoff was on his way South, past the moat. The waterfowl began to come out of their respective nests, and he could hear the beginnings of the day drifting across the water from the castle. The first sounds of the market reached his ears, but they soon faded as he passed the moat and turned towards the city gates. The guards saluted him, and he returned it on his way through.

Soon enough, a blue sparkle was visible, far in the distance, and Geoff punched the air in triumph.

"Stand and deliver, Mr. Dawnsen!"

Geoff wheeled to see an immensely tall, muscled, and well-cloaked man leap out from a copse of trees, and raised his eyebrows—and his axe. "What do you want?"

There was a flash of white teeth beneath the hood, and the bandit raised a fine steel sword. "You."

He had a moment to ward himself, and then the steel was ringing off of every side of his shield, impossibly quick. The point nicked his arm, then his shoulder, and Geoff began driving forward with his shield, now and then aiming a blow at the highwayman's head.

"It's no use, Dawnsen!" The cry was belied by a shout of pain a moment later, as the axe sliced a long tear in the leather armor. He went to take a step back, and tripped on his long black cape, barely managing to keep on his feet.

Geoff took advantage of the momentary distraction to sweep in with his axe, leaving the outlaw with another deep wound in his ribcage.

"On guard, fool! The bounty will be mine soon enough!" Geoff leapt to one side as he charged, and nearly paid for it with his life as the feint turned, and the man's long rapier stabbed into his right arm.

He threw his shield forward, then, knocking the highwayman off balance, and followed it with a slash, neatly severing the man's head from his body. Staring, Geoff slowly re-caught his breath as the body faded, leaving behind a black cape, a pile of bones, and— a piece of parchment poking out from underneath the cape. Geoff frowned and picked it up.

It was a banknote… for two thousand gold bars. He whistled as he looked it over; seemed to be legitimate. He turned it over… and his blood ran cold.

By order of the Katrine, of the Black Arm Gang,

this note only good if turned in along with

the skull and armor of one, Geoffrey Dawnsen.

For further information, contact the Black Arm.

"…Shit." He slowly, deliberately closed his eyes and thought, hard. Peter! Peter Bailey, where are you? There was silence. Geoff sighed and pocketed the note, wondering how many were in circulation.

Ah, Geoff. I was wondering when you'd find it.

The arrogant, calm, ever-amused voice of the postmaster sounded in his mind, and Geoff turned towards the farm to the East. It would be a bad idea to stand there, deep in telepathic communication, when the highwayman re-spawned again. Hopping the fence, he wandered into the small farmhouse and past the sleeping sheep dog. As he sprawled across an empty rocking chair, he reached out mentally again.

Pete, what's going on? Is this some new event or something?

Far too smugly for Geoff's liking, he replied Or something. The first step was you with the fifty daggers, the second was the chase. This is the third.

He swore out loud, and forced his mental voice to calm. Okay, so there's a huge price on my head. Is this event indefinite, or what?

I don't know; it's being shaped by you guys. But you should know that every criminal in Asgarnia is dropping these notes. Incredulous, Geoff couldn't even find a proper swear, and Postman Pete continued. I think you might have to kill Katrine, or something.

Oh, lovely. Is there any way around it?

I don't know. Maybe it'll end when you finish the quest or something. In the meantime, watch your back. There's clans roaming for you.

Thanks, Pete.

I'll see you around, Geoff. Take care.

Sighing, Geoff stood, the chair banging loudly against the wall. The sheepdog looked at him reproachfully from the corner, and he rolled his eyes. The cows brayed from the pasture outside, and the warrior swore, shouting at the top of his lungs as he kicked down the door. The handful of players outside glanced up briefly, then went back to arguing over hides.

Geoff yanked the axe off of his back and got to work. Before long, he had a full load of hides and beef, and turned to the South, towards Port Sarim. It was more the sweat than the meat itself, really. The physical toll of swinging the huge axe, the concentration of battle, the simple rhythm; he felt a lot better as he made his way through the little copse of trees towards the small town. The sun was going down to his right, and the red light was nearly blinding, despite the shade of the trees. He was glad to make it into the town, and quickly made his way through the well-weathered cottages to the nearest stove.

There was a figure lurking in the shadows, and Geoff slipped as quietly as he could into the house, closing the door behind him. The man and woman barely looked twice at him; they were used to people barging in for the use of their stove. He nodded to them both and went into the kitchen, slapping the first steak onto the range. The meat hissed, a little too loudly for his tastes, and he quickly glanced up at the window. Dropping down the second piece, Geoff reached across and drew the curtains across, shivering.

As he finished cooking, voices sounded in the outer room. He cocked an ear to listen, wondering. "I don't know, I haven't seen anyone yet."

An intelligible voice answered, and he heard laughter.

The clear voice rang again, and he noticed the darker tone, the more oily nature. "Well, I think he'll be coming this way for the goblin, and he has to come through at least for the ship."

This time, a woman's voice answered. "It's a lot of money, Tim."

Not waiting to hear more, Geoff slipped quietly over to the window and pushed it open, wincing at every creak. They didn't seem to hear him, though, and he quickly hoisted himself up to the opening. One minute later, he was sprinting South, outside the village bounds. He passed the fishmonger, the statute, and was passing the food store when he heard the shout from behind him.

He sped up, nearly breaking down the jail door as he shoved through, slamming it behind him. The guards looked up, and a few prisoners muttered. Geoff glanced back and forth wildly before seeing the ladder on the other end of the room. Muttering a swift prayer to Saradomin under his breath, he sprinted across, grabbed the topmost rung, and half ran up the ladder to the top floor.

One of the guards frowned. "And wha'r you doin' 'ere, then?" Geoff glanced up, recognized the man, and shook his head.

"In a second," he panted, scanning the room for—there!

"And wha's tha for?"

Grabbing the heaviest rock he could see, Geoff crept back over to the ladder and waited, holding his breath. He heard the door open, and the quiet, stealthy footsteps of a thief. Gripping the rock tightly, he waited. Voices sounded, but he couldn't hear what they said. The footsteps went on, and his hands shook.

Then, finally, he saw something below, a black shape against the wood of the ladder. He waited another moment, to hear the creak of the wood, and dropped the stone, putting a fair amount of force behind it. There was a sickening crack, a thud as the body fell, and then silence.