Chapter VIII
The castle clock had struck midnight, and a slight rustling could be heard in the bushes. The rustling moved around the castle walls, stopping strategically at the small fissures in its structure. At a closer look, a small boy, at least the age of 12, was the source of this rustling. A huge skull was tattooed at the side of his almost bald head, which was crowned by a tuft of oily black hair. He wore a black bandana over his head, which covered his nose and mouth, only exposing his dull green eyes. Hanging from his belt were a black dagger, a vial of some clear liquid, as well as a small pouch, which contained about a dozen spherical, red objects. At each place that he stopped, he planted one of these red objects, and doused it with the clear liquid. When he had run out of liquid and the red objects, he had then struck a match, and lit each one of the objects. He then ran from the castle perimeter, and met with his fellow Black Arm gang members.
'Good job, Matthias!' said a tall, wiry looking Black Arm, who went by the name of Stretch. Stretch was Matthias' older brother, and he was about 8 years older. In his hand was a black, twisted dagger, doused with poison. Matthias stood there quietly, not saying one word. The small squad of Black Arm's went back to the hideout, and told Garrett, the Black Arm leader, of their triumph. Matthias, once again, did not say a word. He was a demolitions agent for the Black Arm, in fact, he was the youngest. He was also the best, he could blow up almost anything: concrete, wood, steel, you name it. Stretch and him had no parents, who were killed in the plague of Ardougne. The kids then moved with relatives in Varrock, but the relatives deserted them. They had to live in the streets, until they decided to join the Black Arm.
'The bombs should be blowing up the castle walls right about now,' said Matthias quietly. 'Good, good,' said Garrett. 'Prepare to move the gangs in!'
Hundreds of Phoenix, Black Arm, and lesser known gangs stood in the alleys, prepared to attack the castle. In the distance, they heard a loud BOOM! They ran towards the undefended castle, hurling flaming arrows, javelins, and crossbow bolts into the unprepared guards. Many guards fell dead, and the ones that were left standing shared the same fate, when the Black Arm-Phoenix gangsters drew their melee weapons. The loud clang of swords, axes, maces, and projectiles hitting against armor and shields was all that could be heard throughout the city. The guards inside the castle and the barracks rushed to prepare themselves for the fighting. The guards poured out the castle doors, yelling their motto, 'FOR ORDER!' The colors of the Varrockian reign was emblazoned proudly on their armor. Their swords splitted heads and severed arms, while their halberds fended off attackers and sent the gang members sprawling to the ground.
Flaming projectiles lit up the night sky, creating a spectacle of fear and awe among the onlookers who stood outside the city. A guard had run up to the castle roof, and sounded the siege horn, signaling all guards to come to arms. The famed Varrockian archers stood at the roof, wearing their green and orange cloaks, along with their conical helmets. Their aim was true, and their rune tipped arrows sliced through chainmail with precision. The attackers fell back, only to attack again with full force. Both guards' and gang members' corpses littered the castle courtyard. Hell had truly broken loose in the city.