Quest 08: Mark of Zemouregal
Chapter 3 - Ready for Battle
Because of Jahaan's betrayal of Zamorak during their heist of the Stone of Jas, Zemouregal takes the matter of revenge into his own hands. When Jahaan looks to get even, he enlists the help of his Mahjarrat allies to take the fight to Zemouregal…
Jahaan agreed to lay low at the temple with Azzanadra until they were ready to attack. After all, the last place Zemouregal was likely to wander into was a Zarosian Temple. If he could stay out of sight until then, they'd still have the element of surprise. Then again, how much they actually needed it was debatable, what with a three-Mahjarrat assault on their side.
The next day, at dusk, the three reconvened in the Temple to strategise.
Zemouregal's fort is a manor located east of Trollweiss Mountain, deep in the snowy realms of northern Gielinor. It was given to him by Zamorak for his assistance in overthrowing Zaros in the Second Age, and has since been used as his home and base of operations. One might think that it must be quite lonely up there, having no-one for company other than his undead minions. Well, he does have his second in command with him up there, a gargoyle by the name of Sharathteerk. Now, gargoyles aren't usually known for their sentience, but Sharathteerk was different; his intelligence and loyalty allowed him the rank of Zemouregal's second.
I'm sure after a few centuries, though, the two ran out of things to talk about.
The fortress itself was high towers and solid stone walls, sharp portcullises and a grand skull carved into the front, just to reiterate - if it wasn't already apparent - that one should 'be afraid, be very afraid'. Zombies patrolled the perimetre, slowly lumbering on anything that catches their… eye? Ear? Nose? However zombies target their prey, anyway. Now, one zombie isn't a problem for almost anyone with a sharp enough sword and the forethought to aim for the head. Zemouregal had FUCKTONNES.
From afar it looked like a grotty ocean, the mindless movements of the zombies resembling waves crashing and falling. For zombies, the best strategy is to take them out from a distance, as they can't really do much about an enemy with a bow and arrow or a magic spell. If you have one to hand, a canon takes them out in no time.
Alas, Jahaan and his merry band of Mahjarrat didn't have a cannon to hand, but they did have a lot of mystic firepower.
So, for a frontal assault, they'd be no problem, right? Well, as Jahaan found out in Guthix's chamber, Zemouregal is wise enough to at least know when he is bested, and even he wouldn't dare take on three Mahjarrat and a bloke with a couple of swords all by himself; if he saw the assault charging over the horizon, he'd likely make a break for it, and the opportunity would be lost.
"Why not just teleport into his fortress, kill the son of a bitch and high tail it out of there?" Jahaan suggested.
A teleport block, put simply. Zemouregal and his minions can leave and enter, but no-one unauthorised can teleport inside. It's a basic magic spell that prominent figures across Gielinor use to protect their castles, strongholds, homes, anything at all. Yet despite its simplicity, no-one has discovered a way to break it. Rumour has it that the dark wizards have been experimenting, but with little success.
"We have to cast our own teleport block around the fortress," Azzanadra stated, sighing as he begrudgingly added, "However, this can only be done after the beacon containing his teleport block spell is broken."
There was also another issue - Zemouregal can sense the presence of Mahjarrat around him.
"But he can't sense me," Jahaan was quick to declare. "If I can break that beacon, you can cast the tele-block spell. We'll then be able to storm the fortress and he won't be able to escape."
Wahisietel considered this. "It's a start, but there are still many issues to this plan. For instance, how would you get inside Zemouregal's fortress? Even with those swords of yours, you would be overrun in an instant against his undead horde."
"Lamistard's tunnels," Sliske piped up, softly. He was staring at the ground, locked in quiet concentration. It was only now he regained his excited energy to explain, "Remember, the Mahjarrat who tried to tunnel his way to be underneath the Ritual Marker, but instead the damn fool accidentally wound up inside Zemouregal's Fortress?"
"The sacrifice at the 16th Gielinorian Ritual," Azzanadra nodded in remembrance, a smile tugging at his lips as he realised where Sliske was going with this. "Jahaan could make his way through the tunnels and bypass the horde."
"You can't go alone," Wahisietel stated. "But he'll sense one of us if we're nearby. Sliske, does the Shadow Realm mask his Mahjarrat sensing ability?"
"Somewhat," Sliske replied, tentatively. "But if we're that close, he'll notice something. My suggestion is that one of you two goes to the Ritual Marker. He'll sense a Mahjarrat close by, but your presence will conflict with mine, and he won't be able to tell how close the World Guardian and I are to him."
Sternly, Wahisietel countered, "I think it best that I accompany the World Guardian."
Trying to hide a smile, Sliske inquired, "When was the last time you entered the Shadow Realm, brother?"
"While I don't lurk in the shadows as much as you, Sliske, I know how to navigate the Shadow Realm."
In order to prove it, Wahisietel stepped forward, closing his eyes to concentrate deeply.
Nothing happened.
Wahisietel squinted. His proficiency with the Shadow Realm had been nothing in comparison to his half-brother, but he could at least see into the thing. But no matter how hard he focused, he couldn't manage it.
"Sliske, have you tampered with the Shadow Realm somehow?" he accused, gruffly. It seemed like a far-out claim, but if anyone was bold enough to tamper with an entire realm, it was Sliske.
"Ah, yes," Sliske chuckled nervously. "An unfortunate side-effect of an ongoing plan. Neither you, nor Azzanadra, nor any Mahjarrat can see into the Shadow Realm."
"Sliske, that's-!" Wahisietel stormed over to Sliske, who disappeared into the Shadow Realm with a click of his fingers before Wahisietel could deck him.
"Calm down, Wahi," Sliske's voice was echoed now that it was emanating from another realm. "Look on the bright side - Zemmy can't get in either. Only Janny and I."
Azzanadra crinkled his brow. "Why did you give the World Guardian access to the Shadow Realm?"
Reappearing behind Jahaan, Sliske placed two large gloved hands on Jahaan's shoulders and shrugged. "Seemed like a fun idea at the time."
"It'll be fine," Jahaan straightened up his shoulders, but didn't shrug off the palms. "Sliske and I can handle this. If you go to the Marker, Azzanadra can cast the spell when it's ready."
Stepping forward, Azzanadra grew rather serious as he said, "Now listen, I know you want to take on Zemouregal alone - your tenacity would be commendable if it wasn't so foolhardy. Yes, your armour will help protect against his magicks, and your swords can do a great deal of damage if you managed to get close enough, but the chances of you besting Zemouregal without our help is slim to none."
"You tricked him into fighting on even ground once," Sliske continued, "He won't be tricked so easily this time, not when his back is against the wall. He will come at you with everything he has in order to survive."
Wahisietel finished, "Allow us to help weaken him. If you must, you can strike the final blow in order to sate your bloodlust, but without our assistance in the battle, all of this will be in vein. You will die, and you can't exactly enact vengeance from beyond the grave."
Reluctantly, Jahaan let this sink in, looking between the Mahjarrat as they tried to convey the severity of what they were about to undertake. It hadn't quite hit home for Jahaan yet, with his adrenaline and urge for revenge still at an all time high; the anger had sizzling under the surface of his skin ever since the night of the fire, though he'd kept it dormant for now. The Mahjarrat had a point, after all - if he was being honest with himself, Jahaan would admit that he got lucky against Zemouregal last time.
After contemplating this for a while, Jahaan accepted, "Okay, you're right, I can't face him alone. But please, let me be the one to end him for good."
His smile growing with a hint of wickedness, Wahisietel said, "I'm sure that can be arranged."
In the days that followed, Jahaan was getting rather restless in the Temple, for there wasn't exactly much in the way of entertainment, and he often felt like a bother to his Mahjarrat host, who liked to spend most of his time in quiet prayer or reading one of the vast amounts of novels he'd accumulated over the years.
Jahaan was too restless to settle into a book; his mind churned at all hours, either worrying about Ozan, thinking of his bitter conversation with Ariane, seething at the memory of Zemouregal, or worse, trying to figure out exactly what Sliske wanted with his soul. Wahisietel's theory seemed on point, that Sliske simply needed a ticket into the afterlife.
But why me? The question repeated over and over in his mind. Why go through this whole charade if that's how you plan for it to end?
He found himself having to force the thoughts from his head as they riled him up too much. Restlessness was bad enough, and he needed to direct his anger at Zemouregal right now, not Sliske. The latter could be dealt with once Zemouregal was in a shallow grave.
So, in order to free his mind from such stresses, Jahaan focused on some training. Despite feeling like he'd asked for too much already, Jahaan buckled up the courage to ask for some runes, both of the ancient and normal variety. If he was to be cooped up for a while, he might as well make the most of his time. There was still a section of the mines yet to be cleared up from the temple's restoration that made a perfect training ground, and Jahaan fortunately had enough prowess by now to not bring the entire cave down on top of him with a misused spell.
Azzanadra's gifts, however, might negate the need for magic in the end, but it's always best to be prepared.
"This material is elder rune," Azzanadra explained, presenting the custom made armour set and dual longswords to Jahaan. "It was first discovered in limited quantities in the Third Age, but only very recently have more ore veins been unearthed. Like runite, it's protection against conventional weaponry is unparalleled, providing significant protection against melee fighters. However, elder rune is special - it provides the same mystic protection as high tier combat mage robes, the likes of which we Mahjarrat don. Since you might be in the line of fire from Zemouregal himself, this will improve your survival odds tenfold, alongside protecting you from his undead abominations."
Jahaan's eyes sparkled like a kid on Wintumber's morning. The entire armour and weapons set much have cost Azzanadra a fortune; Jahaan had never come close to any merchants selling the armour, only heard rumours about them, and let's just say, a full set like this cost even more than a two bedroom starter home in Menaphos' Imperial District. When armour costs more than a house, you know you mean business. Just one of the longswords alone would cost more than the entirety of his previous rune armour set.
"Azzanadra, I…" he dazily began, half-minded to refuse the set, unworthy as he felt.
The smile that Azzanadra attempted tried to be warm and soothing, bless him, but it didn't come naturally. Nevertheless, the sentiment came across to Jahaan as the Mahjarrat assured, "This is but pocket change to me, do not fear. Like I mentioned previously, I am in your debt, World Guardian."
Turning one of the longswords over in his hand, Jahaan dreamily replied, "Consider the debt paid in full, and then some…"
Unsurprisingly, the armour fit like a glove. Azzanadra must have sized him up pretty well, because it felt like it was tailor made. The way the armour curved to his body, never impeding his movement, like it was moulding and reforming with every strike and lunge… he'd never felt so comfortable, not even in silk. In comparison, it made his rune armour feel like iron. That was quite an unfair comparison - many warriors would kill to have a full runite set, and considering he got the thing for free, he didn't want to sound ungrateful - but he'd be lying if he said he could go onto any other armour after wearing elder rune. There was no turning back now, and Jahaan was quite enjoying this side of being the World Guardian. Having friends in high places led to a taste of the good life.
The only weird thing about the armour was the slight tingle that tickled his skin. Azzanadra explained this was normal, that it was the side effects of a non-divine being coming into contact with high mystic protection. Mages never seemed to mention that, so they must have gotten used to it quickly, and Jahaan found that after wearing the set for a few hours, he himself barely noticed it anymore.
Naturally, the swords were a dream. They were longswords, and while Jahaan was used to shortswords, he quickly adjusted. Despite their increased length, they were lighter than what he was used to, which increased his fluid movements and made each strike more precise, for he felt he had more control over them. Not to mention they were even more deadly that his last set - some poor training dummies confirmed that. Zemouregal's armoured zombies usually wore iron or steel, so as an experiment, Jahaan put a steel platebody on a melee training dummy.
The armour, and the dummy inside, was sliced clean in half.
He'd had more strain slicing a loaf of bread.
Jahaan was raring to go, and a good thing too, for the next day, as soon as the sun set, they would strike Zemouregal's fort.
Wahisietel shivered as the cold air of the Ritual Site bit through his robes. Once again, he'd come to the plateau underdressed, having not learned his lesson from last time. Huddling into himself, he approached the Marker with caution. It wasn't exactly going to attack, but its presence was so imposing and formidable that it caused the ridges on his back to rise. On the ground, partially buried among the snow, he saw the shining glimmer of something. Carefully brushing the snow away, he noticed a yellow crystal glimmering. Lucien's crystal.
The gem was now cold to the touch, having lost the life essence that allowed it to radiate heat. Picking it up, Wahisietel couldn't help but feel a knot in his stomach.
This is all that is left of him, he thought to himself, turning the crystal over in his palm. Delicately, he placed it back on the ground where it was found, regretting having disturbed it in the first place. Mahjarrat superstation didn't forbid the handling of gems; many carried around the crystals of their fallen kin, and Wahisietel was no exception, keeping them in an ornate box in his Nardah home. However, Lucien was not kin.
Memories of the last Ritual flashed through Wahisietel's mind in an unwelcome storm, and it made him think towards the next Ritual. It was many centuries away, but time seemed to flow differently for an immortal, and it would creep upon him before he knew it. The question of a suitable sacrifice was one thing that troubled him. Killing Zemouregal was, in many ways, a waste of a perfectly good sacrifice, but it had to be done. With him and Lucien gone, that left Enakhra and Khazard as the last remaining Zamorakian Mahjarrat. As far as Wahisietel was aware, no other Zamorakian Mahjarrat remained on Gielinor, or at least none had attended the last Ritual.
Enakhra was still the last surviving female, so her safety was all but guaranteed. Khazard was the youngest, and it wouldn't take too much for the others to come around to sacrificing him next.
But what of the Ritual after that? He was thinking many Rituals in advance now, but there was no doubt in his mind every other member of his race had contemplated the exact same thing, many, many times.
Soon it would leave a Zarosian, Wahisietel thought bitterly. Akthanakos was no doubt the weakest of their tribe left; he would be a prime candidate. Azzanadra was too powerful to ever be sacrificed, and Zaros would never allow it. Sliske was too strong as well, but the rate he was going, he'd be lucky if he made it to next year, let alone the next Ritual.
With a heavy heart he realised that he would be sacrificed before long, and then, soon enough, there would come the extinction of the Mahjarrat. Zaros had promised to free them from their Rituals - it was one of the reasons the Mahjarrat left Icthlarin for the Empty Lord - but he had yet to fulfil his promise.
Because of this, they were a dying species.
Instead of getting lost in his depressing thoughts, Wahisietel removed the CommOrb from his nap sack and awaited his cue. By now, Jahaan and Sliske would be enclosing on Zemouregal's fortress.
It wouldn't be long now…
Once Wahisietel was in place, Sliske and Jahaan could teleport into the vicinity in the Shadow Realm. Oddly, the biting cold of Trollweiss Mountain didn't hit as hard as Jahaan thought it would. Perhaps the Shadow Realm negated some of the material realm's harsh climates, or perhaps the mystic armour had some bizarre temperature regulating powers? Jahaan didn't know, and he didn't frankly care, as long as he wasn't getting hypothermia on this night.
"The entrance to the tunnels should be just up this ridge," Sliske stated, hugging his robes into himself slightly as they trudged through the thick snow.
Thankfully there weren't any trolls in sight, not that it would matter all that much, since they were hidden from view in the Shadow Realm. The footprints they left behind, on the other hand, were visible, and Jahaan chuckled at the thought of some confused and perturbed trolls scratching their skulls at the invisible men hiking through their valleys.
Troll Country was, in many ways, beautiful - a canvas of perfect snow, crisp and clean, coating the ground and all its surroundings. Evergreen trees complimented the white decoration on its thick leaves, lovingly taking on the descending snowflakes as they scattered down from the skies.
Maybe it was the kid in him, but Jahaan couldn't help but want to go sledging.
Now was not the time.
At the top of the ridge, a cave entrance protruded out of the snow, albeit barely. It took a little bit of digging with his gloved hands - Jahaan's that it, Sliske sat back as 'moral support' - before the cave in its entirety was visible, tall enough for the both of them to fit through.
Despite having a match at the ready, Jahaan wasn't prepared for just how dark the tunnel was, forcing himself to stumble into the nearest wall and feel his way to a torch in order to bring some light to the place. Once the first torch was lit, the tunnel opened up in front of them both, a somewhat neatly dug pathway marked by unlit torches. Jahaan carried the first torch with him, lighting the others as he went.
"Well, Lamistard didn't do a half-bad job here," Sliske remarked, eyeing up the cavern as they rounded their first corner. "Apart from the whole, you know, 'sense-of-direction' thing."
"What was he like, this Lamistard?" Jahaan inquired, lighting another torch as he did so.
Waving his hand dismissively, Sliske replied, "No-one of note or importance. Stood with Zamorak against Zaros, but even that didn't end up doing him many favours. Guess he knew even the Zamorakians were going to sacrifice him soon enough, so he tried to circumvent the Ritual. It… didn't go to plan. Not that I'm complaining."
"He died so you could live," Jahaan all-but mumbled. The words felt heavy and cloying in his throat.
Shrugging, Sliske continued, "The Mahjarrat are a kratocratically ruled tribe, and our Ritual is the epitome of that. I didn't make the rules, and I shan't complain when they work in my favour."
"Don't you ever think of him?" Jahaan pressed, somewhat more strongly than he should have. "That you sent him into an eternity of nothingness, an end to his entire existence, just so you could keep on living?"
Sliske stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing. "What are getting at, World Guardian?"
After lighting the nearest torch, Jahaan blew out the one he was holding and set it against the wall. A part of him knew he shouldn't have said anything, but the question had been eating away at him for days, and something about Lamistard's sorry story set him on edge. Turning to Sliske, he folded his arms over his chest, a stern and serious expression on his face. "Why do you want my soul, Sliske? Tell me the truth. Am I as disposable to you as Lamistard was to the Mahjarrat?"
Tilting his chin up, Sliske's expression warped slightly. "So, that's what this is about."
"Just spit it out, Sliske," Jahaan demanded. "I have to know - why me? Why my soul? And if you'd always planned to steal it, why toy with me all this time, acting like you care?"
"That is not your concern."
"It's my soul, it IS my fucking concern!" Jahaan snapped back. "You want an afterlife, don't you? So you steal my soul and claim eternity for yourself, but I guess you don't care where that leaves me, do you?"
"We made a deal," Sliske countered through gritted teeth. "I help you kill Zemouregal, you give me your soul. A simple exchange."
Sniffing a humourless laugh, Jahaan rolled his eyes and remarked, "This would make a good plot for one of your plays, Sliske."
The pause that followed was thick and deadly, a chill in the air.
"Who told you about my plays?" Sliske demanded, low and fierce.
Straightening up his shoulders, Jahaan looked on in bafflement. He wasn't expecting the comment to get such a strong reaction, and it knocked him for six. "Zamorak. So?"
"You weren't supposed to know about those!" Sliske snapped, his voice like the crack of a whip.
Jahaan's confusion warped into anger rapidly. "What, you embarrassed your perfect reputation is tarnished?" he derided. "Gods, Azzanadra was right about your mood swings..."
In hindsight, this was the worst thing Jahaan could have said.
Yellow irises danced with flickers of flame, the corners of Sliske's mouth twitching with a cruel sneer. His voice was deathly quiet, almost a whisper, as he said, "...You've been talking to Azzanadra about me?"
Gulping, Jahaan regretted ever opening his mouth, but he forced his fear aside - rage was so much easier to handle. "Yeah, so? I thought you of all people would enjoy being the topic of conversation."
"And what did he tell you?" his sneer cracked his features, morphed into something otherworldly and venomous.
Jahaan saw no reason to lie at this point. Sliske would know. "He told me that your mood has always changed like the weather, and that if you came to threaten me again he would deal with you personally."
This caused Sliske to erupt in a roar of laughter that was full of bile and animosity. "Oh, that's adorable," he spat, words dripping like acid from his fanged teeth.
Stalking closer to Jahaan, Sliske watched with sadistic glee as the young man forced himself not to flinch. "Well, where's your precious Azzanadra now, hm?" he towered over Jahaan like a looming shadow, imposing and dangerous.
The claw shot out like a bow from an arrow, latching itself tightly around Jahaan's throat, lifting him off the ground with ease. Instantly Jahaan's hands pushed against the offending arm, trying to pry away Sliske's firm grip, but it was locked onto him.
"Slis-ah!" he gasped, breath hitching as he felt Sliske's nails pierce his fragile skin, drawing blood that trickled crimson down his throat.
A brief glimpse through tear-filled eyes saw Sliske's stoic expression, blank and deadly, the only life being the fire dancing behind his eyes. "Is this how you'd prefer me, World Guardian?" Sliske growled, flashing his teeth. "Is this easier to comprehend?"
It was a much tighter hold than the last time Jahaan found himself in this predicament; Sliske meant business, and he could pop his head like a grape if he wanted to. If Jahaan had the ability to form coherent thoughts that weren't frantic and scattered, he would have realised this was the very first time he truly witnessed the gravitas of Sliske's power. Gasping for air that would not come, Jahaan felt himself growing increasingly dizzy and lightheaded, the only thing keeping him stable being the immense pain of Sliske's nails digging into his neck.
Though he felt his limbs becoming weaker and weaker, he desperately fought to reach for his dagger, but he was too slow, the movement too telegraphed. However, instead of retaliation, Jahaan felt himself released. He ragdolled to the ground, collapsing in a panting and spluttering heap. Hungrily he gasped in the warm air, scrambling over to put his back against the nearest wall.
Jahaan tried to gather his bearings, and once he managed to wipe away the tears from his eyes he realised he was no longer in the Shadow Realm - the air was too warm, the colours too vivid.
It took a long while for Jahaan to calm his breathing and ease his rapid heart rate, but once he did, he tried to look into the Shadow Realm, or at least open his mind up enough into the realm in order to sense if Sliske was still present. Thankfully, he wasn't.
Rubbing the bruising on his neck, Jahaan could feel the swelling of welts that would turn an ugly shade of purple before long. Coupled with that, Jahaan's fingers dripped crimson when he withdrew them, spots of dark red staining his skin. There wasn't much blood, thankfully, and Jahaan didn't think they'd scar. Still, one look at him and Wahisietel or Azzanadra would be able to deduce what had happened.
Sliske's not ruining this for me, Jahaan vowed to himself, not wanting to back out despite them being a man short. But it was the lingering thought that the other Mahjarrat might withdraw that caused Jahaan not to inform them of the change in circumstance. They'd find out soon enough anyhow.
He wasn't going to let Sliske get to him. Not now, when so much was at stake. This would be his only chance at Zemouregal for a long while. Still, the painful bruises at his neck served as a constant reminder of the enemy he'd just made.
Picking himself up off the ground, Jahaan stretched out the kinks in his neck and concentrated on shifting back into the Shadow Realm. Sliske or no Sliske, it was strategically the best way to sneak through Zemouregal's fort.
Winding his way through the tunnels, Jahaan found himself getting turned around on more than one occasion - Lamistard had hardly created a labyrinth, but it also appeared as if not much planning had gone into the tunnelling beforehand. That's probably why he ended up under the fort instead of where he'd intended, under the Ritual Marker.
Eventually though, Jahaan started to see the beginnings of civilisation in the form of stone paving, storage crates and more torches in close proximity to one another. Perhaps Zemouregal had attempted to make the most out of Lamistard's labour and renovate some of the tunnels into a basement, but from the looks of it, the enormity of the task was too much and he'd long since given up. Still, it didn't take too long to find a hatch that, when the corresponding chain was pulled, revealed a ladder which would take Jahaan up to the surface.
He'd made it inside Zemouregal's fort undetected.
Now for the tricky part...
DISCLAIMER:
As Of Gods and Men is a reimagining, retelling and reworking of the Sixth Age, a LOT of dialogue/characters/plotlines/etc. are pulled right from the game itself, and this belongs to Jagex.