A/N- Capricorn here. Chapter three is up, yes. I changed the rating of this story from M to T. I was at first going to make it more graphic and more... mature, but I decided that the way this story has been written by now, I should change the rating so a wider variety of people can enjoy it. After all, the content isn't exactly M-rated material, now, is it?
-Disclaimer- Mentos is my own character. Slash is my brother's character. All other people mentioned within are property of Jagex. Yeha.
-A/N #2- Being a level 38 ranger in the game, I am proud to say that since I have renewed my membership, I recently completed the Underground Pass quest, believe it or not. I had the help of my brother, but I still killed each of the level 91 Demons, as well as the level 89 spider and the level 60 something paladins. Freaking awesome, ne? Don't believe me? I have screenshots, so you'll have to e-mail me about them.
-On with the story!
'I wasn't sure how much time had passed. I remembered only that Zamorak had come, telling me so many things. He filled my head with a vast knowledge of spells, and I could feel my once tall and muscular body change to one that was thinner and compact… the body of a spell caster.
I have only Doomian, Holthian, and Othainian to keep me company in this vast cavern. Even they are not close enough to fulfill that empty feeling in the cavity of my chest, and I sometimes long for those days when I had many comrades by my side.
Ahh, yes. Daquarius and the others. They knew of my unhappiness, but did nothing… we were all of a noble background, we were all well educated, and we all had liking for the luxurious. And yet, I was the only one with this empty thirst for power.
She understood it.
Even now her name escapes me. I know she tried to save my life, and she and I were partners on a mission. I remember we were ambushed, and I realize now she was just as alone as I was…
But I can't seem to remember her name.
Damn it all.
I loved her.'
..--..
It was quiet in the tiny inn of Ardounge, save for the beating of rain against the windows, and Mentos sat at a table in the back corner, alone, with a pint of ale in front of her. She liked the atmosphere of this place. It was comfortable, and no one was intruding on anyone else's private matters. The Flying Horse Inn, that's what locals called it.
At the bar was a man hunched over a small glass of liquor. He had a dark air about him, and Mentos assumed he was a follower of Zamorak. What did the bartender say his name was? Oh, yes, Lucien. He was a shady looking character, and the ranger's suspicions of his allegiance were confirmed when a man bearing a white and black painted face slipped in the door, head mostly covered with the black cowl of his cloak. Lord Hazeel. She had heard rumors of his revival while strolling around town.
Mentos liked this bar. It definitely had a feel to it that attracted people like herself- lonely warriors who could be so sick and twisted; yet friendly to those they knew and trusted. She felt like she could sit in this corner and let all her troubles drip away like the rain on the windows.
That was, until the hefty messenger from King Lathas showed up.
He marched into the room, shaking the rain from his deep blue cloak like a scorpion rid itself of sand. Instantaneously, Mentos' green-gray eyes narrowed. She did not like this man. He reminded her of an overweight owl, with a thick, fleshy neck and messy hair combed back to look presentable.
She watched warily as he approached the bartender, asking him quite a few questions. The bartender heaved a weary sigh, apparently used to this man's insistent attitude. After a moment, she noted the bartender nod towards her, directing the adviser's walk towards her table. If he were looking for someone to go home with him, she'd slit his throat then and there with no remorse.
After Iban's death, she trusted no one she didn't feel deserve it, and this man was one who she felt needed to be brutally murdered.
"Excuse me, m'lady." he asked politely, startling the ranger, "Are you Mentos?"
She curtly nodded, and the man continued, straightening his back to look proud and noble, although the way he presented his overweight torso made the ranger want to run her knife through him.
"I have a message from King Lathas for you. He wishes an audience, and says that he has a task he desires for you to take on."
Mentos stood abruptly, tall, lithe shoulders seeming very imposing to the little man.
"I'm not interested," she growled, eyes flashing dangerously, "I will go to him myself, however. I like this town; I don't want to have to fight my way out of it. I don't need a pig like you to accompany me."
She walked briskly out the door, grabbing her longbow as she went. A whistle of approval rang from the direction of Lucien and his friend, but the attention he earned was a throwing knife in the back of his barstool. Attached to the end of the knife was a small charm in the shape of Zamorak's insignia.
..--..
The King, in Mentos' opinion, was not fit to rule the quiet kingdom of Ardounge.
The man looked like a thief in her opinion, but she kept her tongue silent as he watched her enter from his throne. The room was extravagantly decorated, and she could only feel that being the ruler of such a nice city had gone to this man's head.
"Ranger Mentos." the man said, rising and giving her a half-bow. She raised an eyebrow in suspicion. Nothing she'd ever done called for respect from a king. Against her wrist, she felt the enchanted Zamorak symbol burn into her flesh. She only wore it there for the fact that her weathered vambraces hid the charm, never alerting anyone nearby of her allegiance.
What had Saradomin done for her, anyways? Nothing.
"I ask that you complete this task, for the good of not just Ardounge, but for the good of the entire world. Within the depths of the Underground Pass on the west side of Ardounge, there is a madman that resides there. He has claimed the souls of a good number of my best men, their minds stolen, making them dismal and corrupt. This man is cruel, and I know not what else to do.
"This is Slash," he started, gesturing to an apathetic looking young man standing next to the door. "He'll accompany you in this task. You two are the best I could find that would even consider doing this… I beg of you."
Mentos had looked to the fighter, taking in his appearance. He had shaggy, short cut, light auburn hair, and was apparently quite strong. His body was adorned with black armor, and strapped to his waist was a dragon long sword and a poisoned dagger. In his hand, though resting on the ground, was a granite maul. Mentos was sure she could spot a distinct red tinge on it, but she shook the thought from her head.
"I will undertake this request." she finally answered, much to the king's delight, "But I must first ask, does this man have a name?"
King Lathas shuddered, and both adventurers raised an eyebrow.
"They call him the Son of Zamorak, though I do believe his true name is Iban." he replied quietly.
Mentos stood there, dismayed. A thousand thoughts flew through her head.
'He was dead. I held his body in my arms.
There was so much blood. I felt his pulse stop.
He said Zamorak would revive him.'
The thought hit her harder than two fully armed guards could ever dream of. Could this be what he had talked of in his dying breath? He claimed to have been a devout follower of Zamorak, slaughtering those pledged to Saradomin without mercy.
"Let's go." she growled irately to Slash, though quite harshly. He nodded, but let out a slight snarl as an afterthought, tightening the grip on his maul.
"Watch it, missy. Remember, I have a stick with a rock the size of your torso. We're equal as long as we're on this mission."
She huffed a bit, but finally nodded. Her stride carried her out the door and down the beautiful flights of stairs, tracing patterns with a slender finger over the knife she had once dueled with in a far off castle.
'Iban… what happened to you?'
..--..
The great oak doors to west Ardounge were heavier than expected, but shifted easily when Slash pounded the entrance with his maul. The two hurried across the main plaza, past the rows of dilapidated buildings, and into the forest, where the trees had long since been dead and melancholy.
"I didn't think there were so many people living in these conditions." Mentos murmured to Slash, glancing behind them. He shrugged, shifting the armor on his well-muscled shoulders as he did so.
"In every world, the gods deemed that there must be balance among the three of them. Therefore, there must be people that are meant to suffer," he replied simply, not bothering to use the energy to look back, "These are some of those people."
The pass entrance was old, and apparently not many had dared to come by lately. Leaned against the entrance was a man in a ranger's uniform, though unarmed, save for a small hunting dagger at his waist. He was smoking a pipe, and looked up with the approach of the pair. Wisps of gray curled about his limbs, giving the area the appearance of being foggy and damp.
"Koftik?" Slash asked, looking the scrawny man over disdainfully. He looked bored with the man already. The scout nodded, and with a slight accent, replied-
"Yes, that is my name. You two are the warriors the King sent?" without waiting for a reply, he continued. "I hope you're well prepared, then. I'll go ahead, follow me in when you're ready."
With that, he entered the cave, emptying his pipe as he went. The embers burned on the stone before Mentos stopped the imminent fire with the heel of her boot.
"Come on." she mumbled, following the path in. A sort of warm breeze hit her face as she entered, enticing her onwards, but Slash paused for a moment, unsure of his actions.
"So cold." he growled finally, pushing forward. She raised her eyebrow slightly, but kept her thought to herself. After all, who was she to judge what was normal in this underground domain?
..--..
The inside of the pass was dark and dank, complete with rocks covered in moss, swampy areas, and many stalagmites. The moment Mentos entered this area, she felt a foreboding presence about her, and she felt invisible forces tugging at her very will.
Indeed, Iban had been reborn.
Everything about this tunnel seemed to emanate something about him. The walls, the floor, even the air. She knew, and there was no escaping the fact that he had been brought back. She felt warm, somehow, even though she could see the cold, stony surroundings.
After scrambling over several piles of rocks, across a bridge, down several passageways and past many traps, Slash, Koftik, and Mentos stood in a great hall, complete with a Chaos Altar and a deep, forbidding well. About the dark hole lay bodies, in the hand of one of them clutched an old, dusty journal. Prying it from the corpse's grip, Mentos cracked it open to read about the fate of Randas, a warrior that was once great and strong. The pass had corrupted him, and though it had been a few years since Iban's original death, it seemed it had not been long after he had died that he had been reborn. These corpses were at least two years old, if not older.
"I don't like this." Slash growled, looking into the well. Mentos shrugged.
"We have to do it, you know." she sighed and stepped onto the edge of the hole, then easily slid into the blackness. It was colder than anything she'd ever experienced, yet something comforting was hidden amongst the force that pulled her down.
He knew she had come to him.
Of course he knew, this was his domain. He was aware of any and all goings-on. The fact that he had sensed her entry into his vast underground kingdom didn't surprise her as much as it should have.
Slash soon followed, as did Koftik. They landed easily, one after the other, next to a few piles of crates filled with dried provisions. The scrawny man looked about, eyes darting to and fro. He seemed calm, but the wild look in his eyes told otherwise.
"Do either of you hear him?" he suddenly asked, shaking. Mentos shook her head, as did Slash. Koftik looked slightly more terrified now.
"The Master says he'll give me great power…" he garbled quietly, looking around fearfully. Mentos eyed him, hand slowly moving towards her knives. She remembered the words Lathas had spoken- Iban possessed the people that came through the Pass.
"He asks me nothing." Slash said, looking to Mentos for support. She nodded in agreement.
"I hear his voice whispering now, though, I didn't notice it before." she stated, continuing their path past a few cages of slaves, "I can't make out any words, but he doesn't seem to be threatening me."
Koftik let out a sad sigh, but kept up with them as they made their way past several more traps and passageways, following Mentos' instinct as a tracker and ranger. These winding paths would make one's head spin, and all three were glad for companions at this point. Finding a unicorn's horn near a slaughtered beast that had been crushed by a boulder, she picked it up and delicately put it into the pouch at her side.
"Whoever runs this show has a mind like mine." Slash growled, smashing a skeleton's head with his maul, "Sick, twisted, and willing to kill those in his way."
"Mmm." Mentos replied, searching the wall before she found a hidden passageway, "You and he seem to have the same frame of mind, I guess."
They continued deeper into the dungeon, before meeting up with three paladins. They were noble men, journeying into the depths of the passageways in the name of Saradomin. They were as of yet untainted by Iban's calls, but they seemed wary of the travelers. The paladins lent them some provisions when they revealed that the trio was, indeed, venturing farther into the dungeon.
To seal their hidden fear of the trio, Slash indifferently lifted his maul and killed each one of them with a crushing blow to the head, then collected the badges, remembering an excerpt from Randas' long forgotten journal. Koftik looked on in horror and hung back away from them, shaking slightly in his well-traversed boots.
"Come on." Slash snarled, cracking his knuckles. They moved quickly past the slaughtered knights and into a room with a fiery well in the center of it. On the opposite wall was a grand oak door with a ram's skull adorning the top, securely locked from the other side.
Mentos seated herself on the edge of the flame-filled pit and gazed into it, reading the inscription along the edge-
'While I sense the soft beating of a
Good heart I will not open,
Feed me three crests of the blessed,
And the creature's remains,
Throw them to me as an offering…
A gift of hatred, a token.
Then finally rejoice as all goodness dies in my flames…'
She murmured the words under her breath, then held out her gloved hand.
"Slash, hand me those crests." she called, looking up. He strolled over and placed the bloodied seals into her palm, looking over her shoulder into the well. She pushed her dark blonde hair from her face and pulled the unicorn horn from her bag, before she simply let the muscles in her hand relax, watching from her stony gray eyes as the articles fell the distance into the dancing flames.
A cold chill ran about the room, and soon a quiet click emanated from the door, signaling that it had been unlocked in the process of destroying whatever purity was left in this dank cavern.
"He's so close." Mentos murmured, more to herself than anyone else. His voice was slowly becoming louder in her head, telling her that she could join him and have the power of the gods at her disposal…
Yet she didn't believe one word of what he was saying. She had heard too much from both the weathered journal back at the altar and from those who had seen it- telling people they could be as powerful as the three gods was merely a ploy to get them to submit to his will.
She stepped through the doorway, following Slash and Koftik, and into the vast main chamber of the Underground Pass. If one had thought that the rest of this lair was large, they would be overwhelmed with the size of this area.
Mentos' heart pounded underneath her armor, sensing that Iban was so close to her, yet so far away and out of her reach at the same time. Making their way south, she felt his influence fade for a moment. Of course, once they stepped out of this dark area and into a lighter cave, his voice hit her harder and louder than the mob that had once taken her parent's life back in the deserts of Al-Kharid.
'I see you, adventurer… you can't hide.' it growled threateningly, raking the ranger's body with unbridled fear.
"He's so confused…" she said quietly, falling behind Slash's quick pace, loosing more and more of her lead. He had paused his stride for a moment, but continued on.
"If you can't make it, then stay with those dwarves." he muttered quite gruffly, "I don't want you to drag me down when I go in."
Mentos snarled in reply, stopping her stride.
"I'll go alone, then," she growled, turning around and going back the way they had came, "I do better alone. I'm going to Iban right now. Who cares if I know how to kill him or not?"
Slash turned, his curiosity finally getting the better of him. He looked her over once again; trying to make sure that it was just a ranger standing in front of him and not a goddess in disguise.
"How do you know so much about him, and why do you seem to care about his fate?" he asked, referring to the madman ruling the pass. Mentos merely shook her head and walked away, deciding it best that she not fully answer his question now.
"You'll learn in time." she replied, unslinging her longbow from over her shoulder. She went back the way they had come, making her way over ancient paths suspended over a pit of nothingness, making her way towards the man who had risen like the phoenix.
..--..
The doors to Iban's sanctuary were huge, twice the height of an average man. A few different types of ram skulls hung about it, showing a sort of tribal relevance prevailed over the followers of Zamorak and his Son. Two winged boars stood atop small pillars at the base of a flight of ancient, worn stairs, mythical beasts symbolizing brute strength and power.
Two or three torches were set up in the area to shed enough light on the temple so one accustomed to the dark could see where their feet would fall, yet little enough luminosity to leave an eerie feeling laying across the area, like walking through a graveyard on Hallow's Eve. The statues were basked in the unnatural light as well, throwing their features into a dark and sinister gaze.
There were mages, too, a moderate amount of Zamorak followers trained in the art of fire magic and dark binding spells littered about the area, seemingly keeping watch should a traveler get too close to their beloved Lord. One of them stood from an inscription in a large stone tablet, dropping his knife as he went back to his fellow magicians.
Mentos crept silently nearer to the sanctuary, pausing for a moment only to read the fresh writing engraved into the stone, written with such care and time-consuming effort.
"And now our god has given us
One who is from our own,
A saviour who once sat upon
His father's glorious throne,
It is in your name that we will lead the attack,
Iban, Son of Zamorak…"
She shuddered and moved in closer, hiding at the edge of crumbling platforms as the disciples passed to and fro, unnoticing of her stealthy movements. In her hand was her own dagger, should one of the young mages should spot her silent approach and raise the alarm amongst his comrades.
The worn, leather boots on her feet made no noise as she slowly made her way past the taller, stronger mages stationed closer to the entrance, whose dark colored eyes gave her the impression that they had come from the desert area, much like herself. Pushing runaway thoughts from her head, she concentrated on reaching her goal.
Steadily putting down one foot after another, she silently reached the doors, waiting until none of the mages were looking her way before she slipped quietly in the entrance.
Inside the temple, the walls were covered in ancient writings, reaching up to the top of the massive walls. Pillars reached into the black nothingness that was above Mentos' head, carved elaborately with pictograms depicting scenes of the God Wars and other massive battles. Images of Zamorak and his brother Saradomin covered the majority of the pillars, but every now and then a scene where Guthix opposed Zamorak would be etched into the stone.
In the center of the room stood a well with a red tint about the edges, also decorated much like the columns. Elvish words were inscribed on the front, translating into common tongue as "Well of Voyage". Moving back farther into the room were massive dragon's ribs, taller than the ranger, making a walkway to a simple-looking throne, carved into the very rock itself.
Dust on the ground swirled about the woman's feet as she stepped lightly forward, warily taking in her surroundings. The sound of another's footsteps hit her ears, and looking forward to match it with another being, she saw what she had hoped not to be.
He stood just above six feet, as always, in a floor-length, hooded robe the color of the sky during a thunderstorm. Markings that were characteristic of Zamorak's priests were one the front, marking him as a leader in his faction. His hands, once gloved, were now exposed, bearing tattoos of tribal markings down his wrists. His obsidian hair was longer, falling to where his ribcage would end if one could merely dissect him to see what made him tick. It had a strange sheen to it, seemingly from the torches set sparingly about the room. Crimson eyes watched from a thin face, skin tanned, yet slightly grayish in color.
He was the Son of Zamorak- Iban, the Black Knight.
"Salve." he growled, pulling the hood down from his cloak. He stepped a few feet forward, soundlessly, and tilted his head sideways to take in her image. His body, once built and strong, was now thin and light, more like the spell caster he was meant to be.
"Sparring match," Mentos retorted plainly, drawing her dagger back out from seemingly nowhere, yet dropping her bow and quiver where she stood, "Daggers only."
A smirk crept across the face of the man once said to have been the finest warrior in the realm. His teeth gleamed white and straight, save for two ivories that were pointed like a vampire's.
"Agreed." he murmured in reply, casting his cloak aside with a flourish. His body underneath the storm gray covering was clad a black, tight-fitting, long-sleeved shirt, and worn, leather chaps the color of charred dragon hide. Knee-high leather boots, well worn and easy to move in, covered his feet. Muscles were clearly outlined on his body, showing that he hadn't become weak when reborn into this new form. He was built like a thoroughbred- lean and limber, but still strong.
He pulled his chipped dagger from a small sheath at his waist, falling into a combat position to show he was ready to begin. Mentos, too, readied herself, watching his form and position carefully.
Without hesitation, he charged forward, letting an ardent roar escape his throat. Evading past her first thrust, he parried her attack, bringing his dagger down swiftly, just barely missing her shoulder. Leaping backward, Mentos discarded her cloak as well, quickly slipping back farther from Iban to regain her composure.
"You've lost your touch, dear," he said, straightening his back with a sickening crack as he casually made his way towards where she was perched, precariously watching from the granite throne, "You used to be the only person I knew who could make the first strike so cleanly and smoothly, with such grace and defined movement…" His voice sounded more velvety than before, as if he were used to people submitting to his will.
"Shut up," she snapped finally, pushing her dirty blonde hair from her face, "If you think that using the same methods you use to make ordinary men submit their souls to you will work on me, you're wrong. It'll take more than that to crush my mind."
Her voice fell to a growl as her eyes narrowed, gazing down at him with an aggressive, yet defensive expression adorning her face. Her weight shifted slightly, before she raised her lithe body and charged forward, lifting her arm to bring her dagger down into his chest, but instead colliding into him, pushing all of her force behind the attack. Iban choked for air from the blow, falling backwards to the ground, the ranger pinning him in the dirt.
The dust itself, swirling around the fighting pair, sifted through the air in delicate patterns, so dependent on the atmosphere around it to survive. It slowly settled, leaving flecks of gray on the clothing of the warriors, marking them with its own meaning.
"So I was wrong." Iban muttered, looking apologetically to the side. His dagger had slid out of reach in his fall, and he was now at the mercy of the ranger atop him. His breathing picked up, now having to compensate for the extra weight on his chest. A small stream of crimson trickled down his cheek, staining the corner of his mouth.
Mentos sighed, relaxing her shoulders. She hunched slightly over, staring at a spot to the left of Iban's head, a sudden feeling unknown to her welling up inside the pit of her chest cavity.
"Why?" she murmured, sliding to the side as to not stop Iban's breathing, "Just… why?"
Iban sat up, bending one leg so he could lean on it. He did not go for his dagger, nor did he attempt to escape the questioning that would soon arise. He calmly sat there and wiped the blood from his cheek, patiently waiting her inquiries.
"Start from the beginning," she mumbled, rubbing her forehead, "You had just died, and I had left you on the altar. You were revived by someone, and then brought here, am I correct?" The man nodded calmly, scooting slowly closer to the ranger. He propped himself up next to her, staring at the opposite wall absently.
"I was brought here, and then Zamorak came to me. He gave me instructions to enslave people who came through this pass, so he could use them in his own devious plans. The mages outside were left here by him to protect myself, seeing as Ardounge's guards are a bit unhappy about all of this." he gestured with his hand to prove his point. "That well was once a portal to the swamps that are just east of Al-Kharid. Ardounge wants to use it as a trading route, but I myself even disagree- Zamorak turned the well into an evil device, and part of the power he granted me as a spell caster is derived from there."
Mentos huffed, unimpressed with this source of energy.
"How long have you been here?" she asked, yawning lightly. She shook her head to keep herself awake, tracing little patterns in the dust with a single, slender finger.
"I've lost track, but a few years now, at least," he replied, eyes softening, "When I found out where I was, I went to the witch who lives at the other end of this cavern. She's the one who revived me in the first place. I demanded that she let me go back to Al-Kharid to look for you, to let you know I was alive, but she denied my request and told me if I were to leave against her will, she could destroy my reincarnated body right there. Seeing as she created this form, I didn't doubt she could destroy it."
For a moment, Mentos was quiet, a sudden bout of exhaustion overtaking her weary mind. Craning her head back, she gazed at the elegant pillars, carved so long ago with such defined grace.
"One of your companions knows." Iban muttered suddenly, shaking his head. He stood, gracefully slipping his arm about the ranger's shoulders to lift her off the ground as well. Gathering both of their cloaks, he tossed Mentos her mantle, fastening the clasp about his own neck as he did so. This lighter cape was black, trimmed with crimson at the end.
"You kept it…" Mentos murmured, strapping her quiver to her back and retrieving her bow. He nodded, picking his staff from the side of the ancient throne and slinging a small bag around his neck, presumably filled with runes for his spells.
"The warrior you came with is figuring out the one way to destroy my body," he growled, throwing open the great oak doors. To keep the ranger from being attacked by the disciples spread around the area, and to keep her at the same pace as himself, he grabbed hold of her hand, quickly making his way down the ancient steps of his sanctuary and over thin passes, moving with an vague rhythm that coursed through his entire body, from the way his tresses moved over his shoulders to the pace each foot hit the floor.
She lost track of how many secret tunnels and passageways they had gone down, turning left and right, then doubling back, going left again… there was no specific pattern to it, just the twisting madness of the Underground Pass. Several minutes passed where he practically dragged her past numerous pens, each one bearing a mighty beast that resembled a cross between a dragon and one of the Lesser Demons that had been mostly myth until quite recently.
"Where are we going, may I ask?" she inquired, jogging to keep up with his pace. No sooner had the words left her mouth that they rounded a corner and stepped out into the fading sunlight, high atop the earth on a precarious, natural balcony etched out of the side of the mountain. Iban finally let go of her gloved hand, stepping forward to the edge of the platform. He spread his arms to the twilight in a grand motion.
"The only piece of the world outside of my domain that I can even see," he started, gazing past the dead trees that made up most of the surrounding forest of the mountains, "The leaves don't change in the spring and fall, and it always looks the same."
He paused momentarily, before he let his limbs fall back to his side, seating himself on the stone and motioning for the ranger to do the same. He gestured across the terrain that was visible, even in the fading daylight, parts of which even showed the curvature of the planet.
"The sunset. It's always different," he continued, staring longingly at the distant lands, listening to the howl of a pack of wolves moving through the lifeless forest, free to do as they aspired, bound by no laws and no rules, "Just like a faraway dream."
For those of you who read that, I thank you. Any suggestions, comments, praise, etc, should be directed at the little button at the corner of your screen. Flames should be left out. If you read all tweleve pages of this and are just going to flame it, you need a life.
-Extra Notes: "Salve" is Latin for "Hail", or "Welcome". The inscripions that are read in this chapter are actually hidden inside the Underground Pass quest, should you care to find them.