Chapter III
Isaac went into the world famous Varrock market, looking to sell his spoils of battle. All around him he saw warriors and travelers from all over the land, wearing their battle scars and armor as badges. Their armor came in all colors, gray, copper, silver, black, blue, green, and teal. Some of them wore flowing blue and black robes, magic power crackling at their fingertips. He looked in awe at the splendor of the magnificent Varrock castle, the center of political and social matters in the land of Misthalin. It was far different from the southern side of town, infested with gangs and vermin.
Isaac sold both scimtars at the local armory, and got a nice sum of money for them. He bought a dashing black cape and a steel dagger with the money,and then he went back home and stashed the remaining money under his matress. He took off his shirt, revealing a tattoo of the Zamorakian symbol. Isaac put on his steel chainmail, and then wore his black tunic over it. He put on his black cape, and holstered his steel dagger in his belt. He strapped his trusty steel sword on his back, and walked out the door. He needed to be prepared in case Black Arm gang members tried to take his life once more.
He went to pray at the Chaos altar. He had been a Zamorakian all his life, it was like that in the southside of Varrock. The Chaos altar was the only altar around, so most people just prayed there. Today, it was different though. A group of strange men were standing outside of the building, and they did not look like Black Arms. They bore no visible crests, insignias, or tattoos of the Black Arm, and they all brandished crossbows. Most of them had spiky orange hair, or they were bald. They also all wore a strange symbol on their foreheads and chests. They were the Phoenix gang, and they took nothing from anybody. They all followed Isaac, and soon surrounded him. 'Who are you, and what the hell are you doing out here?' asked a tall, slim, bald Phoenix, who was tattooed all over his torso and face. He had an orange mohawk, with his hair shaped into spikes. Isaac did not answer.
'I said, who the hell are you, and what are you doing on the Phoenix gang's turf?' he asked again, setting up his crossbow.
'My business is my own,' declared Isaac. 'Now be gone, I have plans.'
'So you got things to do, huh tough guy?' laughed the Phoenix. 'Fine, go on through. But don't expect any mercy next time!'
The Phoenixes moved away and Isaac passed by. Suddenly, one of them fired at him, sinking a bolt into his black tunic. Luckily for Isaac, the chainmail under his tunic deflected the bolt. All the Phoenixes fired their crossbows at once, sending a hail of bolts towards Isaac. His chainmail protected him against most of them, but a few of the bolts grazed and pierced his legs and arms. He staggered and drew his shortsword, stabbing a Phoenix in the stomach and twisting the blade while it was still inside. Blood sprayed everywhere. Isaac then pulled the sword out and hacked off a Phoenix's arm, reducing it to little more than a bloody stump. Then, Isaac smirked and turned around, only to have his sword shot out of his hand. He unholstered his dagger and threw it, impaling a Phoenix in the forehead. He then smashed the Phoenix's head into a wall, sending the dagger deeper. Then Isaac pulled the dagger out and slashed and stabbed at the air in front of him, making mincemeat of anything in his path. The remaining Phoenix's ran, fearing for their lives.
'You just watch!' yelled one of them.
'We'll get our revenge!' said another.
'The Phoenixes never lose!' declared another.
Isaac wiped the blood off his face, retrieved his sword, and walked on to the Chaos altar. 'Damn,' he said to himself. 'First the Black Arms were all I had to worry about. Now the Phoenixes want my head also.' He prayed to Zamorak, hoping that he would have the strength to fight on. The Phoenixes were notorious for their crossbowmen, and the Black Arms were feared for their ruthlessness. Both of these gangs were the two most dangerous gangs in all of Varrock.
Isaac walked home. As he strode through the main avenue, he could hear a man playing his trumpet for money. He also saw children playing in front of their houses, dressed in rags. Muggers and bandits hung out on the corners, ready to attack any passerby. Old men played a game of checkers on their stoop, and a lone guard patrolled the block. Issac signed again, and saw that it night was coming upon the town. Everybody that wasn't a criminal or a gangster went into their houses, or found shelter quickly, because the streets were most dangerous at that time. He finally arrived at his house, and barricaded the door, hoping that there would be no more attempts at his life. Isaac went to sleep with his weapon that night.