A/N: Hi all! I'm back and writing after like a five month siesta give or take a few weeks…. Apologies it's been so long, I got kinda overwhelmed by the amount of people interested in this story and wrote myself into a corner trying to incorporate everyone into the fiction… After a few chapters I decided to focus less on getting everyone's character into the fiction, and focus more on making it a good story… which I think is the main element of this fic. So I scrapped the long and complicated cliché the story had become from chapter 25 onwards… and started over.

Chapter Twenty-Five:

When there's a War, Where's the Safest Place to Be?

"Nakama used the orb to make the mage appear. The mage is skilled, very much so in the knowledge of Azzandra, demon of Zaros himself. He summoned a pall of smoke that hid him as he teleported. A hand mirror was all he left behind." Darknessdie explained as we ran to the bank.

No. By Guthix himself no. I knew what this meant. A little hand mirror. I knew where that came from. There was only one place in all of Runescape. Inside an ancient temple. An elvish Temple of Light that was far-removed from any major city or tangible control. A temple that was property of no power in this war… A temple overrun with shadows, that lay beneath the mountains of Arandar. A temple with only two entrances. The easiest was through the underground pass, the hardest was through western Ardougne mourner's headquarters. Worse still, I wasn't sure if the Mourner's would let any of my friends in.

At the bank, I replenished my stock of potions, food and runes. Outstretching my arms, I watched the familiar purple haze surround me. My eyes were open during teleportion. I saw the red world which every adventurer briefly passes through when teleporting... but it wasn't entirely red. In the split second allowed to me, I thought I saw a shadow in the red. A gray shadow in the red, shifting alien world of Kryarn's nightmares. But only for a mere second, before marketplace of Ardougne appeared before me.

The marketplace had hardly changed since I was here last. Thieves stole, shopkeepers yelled... Only difference was the guards. Normally, they yelled at the thieves to stop. Now, they were lying on the ground, still like corpses. Which was basically all they were now.

"So, we're all back here together again." Said Kryarn. I looked around me. Parrea, Hawkfeather, Darknessdie, Kryarn, Nakama, Adrilor and myself. We were all here. I barely had time to register their faces before Parrea spoke.

"God, Zanathir, don't do that again. You had us scared." She said. Hawkfeather nodded.

"Anyone know where this handmirror comes from?" Said Nakama, softly. I looked at it. Damit. It was definitely one of the ones in the elvish Temple of Light.

"Your safest route is probably through the underground pass, though I don't think anywhere near Western Ardougne is advisable. Darknessdie can escort you, Nakama should go too because she's got the orb." Hawkfeather said after I explained where the handmirror came from.

"My friend is coming." Nakama said, quietly as she did always.

"What friend?" Asked Parrea, bluntly.

"The one who created the orb, her name's Noela. She won't take long, but she has to move because noobs have found our headquarters in the dwarven mines." Nakama replied. "You can't go into West Ardougne anyway; the mourners are only letting other mourners in." She added.

"Is there any other w... Hey, how'd your friend know that?" Said Kryarn, suspiciously. Nakama shrugged.

"Noela's got eyes all over Runescape." Was her reply.

"I think there's another entrance to the temple." Said Hawkfeather. "I've heard there's an alter for crafting death runes, and the Zamorak mage outside Edgeville can send us to another dimension from where we can access the temple. There's a death alter inside that temple, right Zanathir?"

Yes, good. "Yep, there's a death alter. Everyone tele to Edgeville, meet again there." I said. To my surprise, no one argued. Glory amulets came out, were rubbed, my friends disappeared almost at the same time, except Kryarn who stayed behind, his face a shade of green that would make a Jogre envious.

"Um, dude, this other dimension, is it like the place where you can get stuck in while teleporting?" Kryarn asked. I was surprised by his nervous tone. He looked like he had just met the Empty Lord himself.

"I've never been there, but it's like the place where you accidentally went to after teleporting from Thormac's tower. Think it's the same place actually." Kryarn's eyes widened and his tan paled.

"I'll stay here and wait for you guys, right?" Kryarn suggested. I sighed. "Dude, just come to Edgeville, or go to Catherby and catch us something, go make potions or something useful alright?" I said. Kryarn nodded. I smiled, rubbed my amulet and left for Edgeville.

The second we arrived at Edgeville, I was sure our presence wasn't welcome. Noobs. Everywhere around us, noobs yelled, grabbed weapons and attacked. There were only a few, maybe twenty-five or so noobs. Not enough to pose a large problem. I switched on protection against mages and followed Hawkfeather into the wilderness.

The entrance to "The Abyss" as Hawkfeather called it, turned out to be through charred and injured mage of Zamorak. I wouldn't have known him as a servant of Zamorak had Hawkfeather not introduced him as such. His entire skin reminded me of Darknessdie's right arm and neck. In Dark's case, only the skin touched by the cape and staff of Zamorak had been affected. This mage appeared to have been wearing full Zamorak robes when the cloud struck him. Despite his weakened state, he was still able to teleport us to the Abyss.

"Pray against melee, once you get inside wait for the others." Hawkfeather said. The mage threw a thick cloud of purple at Hawkfeather, which cleared leaving no trace of my friend. Turning to my friends one by one, the mage threw the same blanket of purple over us. It was similar to ordinary teleportion, but a lot thicker and faster.

I prayed against melee attacks just before the mage cast the purple haze on me. I closed my eyes, felt myself shrink... and land on soft ground. Ground that felt like the swamps of Lumbridge. I opened my eyes. The ground was red. The walls were red. The roof was red. The creatures were red. Red with black eyes. The creatures were aggressive, but none of them injured me because of my prayers. I understood now why Kryarn didn't want to come with us. Knowing his phobia of little crawling creatures, this place would be the epitome of his nightmares.

Parrea appeared beside me, and gasped at the place. One of the creatures readied itself for an attack beside her, and she reacted automatically. One rune arrow broke the creatures like water. Just like water. The arrow hit the creature, and the red thing splashed apart. Like water. Red water.

Or blood. 'These things are made of blood.' I thought, disturbed.

"Hey!" Hawkfeather called. We jogged over to him. He had chopped a path through a group of red vines, revealing a narrow passageway. One by one, we entered.

On the other side of the passageway, it was quiet. Still and quiet, unlike the turmoil of the abyss we had just left behind. There were portals, a wall with portals that had runic signs inscribed into them.

Finding the death portal, I stepped through it.

I found myself in the death runecrafting temple. Finding the portal out, I stepped into it, fully expecting to end up in the Elvish Temple of Light.

I exited the portal, and was faced with the sinister orderliness of the ancient elven light temple. I looked around. Last time I'd been here, there'd been a friendly dwarf. Now, now… there was no dwarf…

But that wasn't my concern. My concern lay with a shadowy mage, in a temple where light threw shadows everywhere, where shadows waltzed the corridors like the plague…

Last time I'd been here, I'd been here for hours. Many, many hours. The temple is an utter maze. A thorough maze, a complicated myriad of lights and mirrors. Shadows prowled the corridors, shadows that knocked massive amounts off one's health…

And now somewhere, I had to find a mage that wanted me dead…

"Arkane! How's ya doin'?"

"Kryarn man! 'Aven't seen ya for pigs years!"

"Lol dude, did ya see that cloud?"

"Hell ya, that thing got us all worried. And there's not heaps as can worry a banker, cause everyone needs banks so no one's gonna take us out."

"Me, I'm in Ardy at the time, caught it full on."

"Hey Bro, you gotta have some fair stories on ya then. Grab a beer and sit ya down."

"Thanks mate. Oh boy do I got stories… but don't you have work? You being a banker and all…"

"Meh, why work when there's stories and beer? It's only noobs what comes in now abouts anyway. An' they can do without their fur and grain for a tad longer I reckon."

Kryarn settled himself comfortably on a chair behind the counter in Catherby bank, a bank that was basically on the noob/barbarian battlefront.

Arkane had joined the bank of Runescape mainly because of the safety. He was quite right in that very few people would harm a banker: they are needed by everyone. With the job came plenty of people to talk to, both staff and customer. And the opportunity to sometimes handle priceless items like party hats and onyx jewelry… and then there was items like corpses, decayed heads and raw meat… every job has it's downsides. All in all, it was a very coveted position that Arkane held, and not one he'd give up in a hurry.

As Kryarn began to explain his tale, illustrated with many flamboyant gestures and the lazy speech of commoners, the bankers one by one knocked off work to listen and laugh. Such was his gift of speech that, within the hour, he had not only the entire bank staff enraptured, but a congregation of about fifteen noobs and a healthy scattering of barbarians and dwarves as well.

This was Kryarn's gift. He wasn't a brave warrior, or a brilliant fighter, he wasn't even skilled in a trade like smithing or woodcutting. He was a laid-back, entertainment orientated fellow who frequented bars and drop-parties. He wasn't really a mage, but some would argue that he was as much enchanter as one with level 99 magic. The one thing he could do good, and he did it well, was talk. A talent that had him labeled useless in the combat-orientated world of Runescape.

High level, noob, NPC, banker… they didn't exist to all present that morning. All that mattered was Kryarn, and the spell he wove over his listeners, a spell as potent as anything Darknessdie or Adrilor could create, a spell far more subtle and gentle than both, but a spell all the same…