So, this was originally going to be a one-shot, but by popular demand and with all of the juicy details that have come out I've decided to continue. This is intended to be right before The World Wakes, which I believe will happen tomorrow, at time of writing. There will likely be a third part afterwards, or perhaps further down the line, I've yet to decide.

Disclaimer: I do not own the base contents of this story. RuneScape, its aspects, and associated trademarks are property of Jagex ltd. The player character here is my own, however.

**Warning**, this story will contain big spoilers for various quests and aspects of the game, especially Ritual of the Mahjarrat, as well as the lore of Daemonheim. If you have not completed or read about these things and do not wish to be spoiled ROTTEN stop now.

With that being said, on with the show!

Chapter 2: What Lies Ahead?

A prison of ice floated silently along the darkened path. Magic glowed softly around it, adding to the flickering of the torches along the walls. This creature enjoyed the icy cold of this northern region, and liked picking up the shiny things that had littered the snow. Life had been good since that skeleton lifted them from their realm, though they didn't know why he'd instructed to bring the boots of their kind along. Said that they "might be useful for him". Oh well, he seemed to be dead now, killed through fire, one had seen. Were it not made of ice, the creature would have shivered at the thought, for their kind did not like fire, although most fire could do little to them. The skeleton-man could no longer force them to fight for him or send them places where fire was. Hopefully the tiny flames lining the walls were the extent of the fire around here.

But suddenly, the creature's world was nothing but fire. Tremendous fire, searing fire, melting fire. The creature could feel part of its cage melting, and then the fire stopped. The creature turned, not without agony, to a flesh-creature pointing a staff at it. Immediately, the creature understood: this flesh-creature was responsible for that horrible fire. The creature did not want to feel fire, and concluded that it must make the flesh-creature lose its red liquid. It raised its arms and sent forth a shower of icicles. The flesh-creature sidestepped them as stalagmites rose from the snow next to it, and sent another forceful surge of agonizing fire at it. The creature tried to move out of the way, but it could not move very fast and was buffeted by the spell. The creature grew more afraid, and raised one of its arms to fire a single spike of ice at the flesh-creature. This one would be too fast to avoid, thought the creature hopefully.

To its horror, the spike bounced off of the flesh-creature, repelled by some invisible force. As it endured more fire, the creature frantically shot more spokes at the flesh-creature, but they continued to be repelled. Trembling from the heat, the creature thought that instead of red liquid it could turn the flesh-creature black with magical ice burns. It raised its opposite arm and a glowing sphere of the coldest magic moved towards the flesh-creature, but once again, the flesh-creature proved too much, and muttered something before swiping the sphere aside, exploding it into a shower of sparks. The staff rained fire. Despairing, the creature turned to its children, desperate to keep them from harm. The children then intoned that they would instead fight as well, in hoped of prevailing, though the creature intoned them not to, and three smaller bodies of ice sidled toward the flesh-creature. The fire stopped then, only to continue upon the creatures' poor children. The first born, given the ability to spy on gods by the skeleton-man, was the first to die, without ever being able to demonstrate its amazing talent. Wishing to avenge its sibling, the more rambunctious middle child skittered towards the flesh-ling and released a massive blast, but the flesh-creature jumped back and denied its vengeance with a short burst of flame. All the while, the parent creature continually attempted to impale, blast and freeze the flesh-creature to no avail. It moved further back, leading the youngest child away. Finally, the parent felt the pain of its loss, and the child—whom should have lived the longest among the children—perished in lonely flame. Wanting to cry out, the creature returned the remainder of its child's essence to itself. If there could be no victory, then it would fight forever. And forever it was, until the creature's magic flowed no more, and it shattered to its crystals, cursing the skeleton-man whom had brought them to this, and cursing the flesh-creature who stood in triumph with nary a slight.

With the last flame withered unto the icy remains, Thorkur sighed and lowered his staff. His mental tally showed 362 Glacors defeated. He walked up and rummaged through the remains, never aware of those 362 who could now only imagine the fire. He discovered another shard of the staff he'd been searching for, but still none of the rumored boots from another realm. He pocketed the shard, and walked through the circle of mushrooms to the north to depart for Zanaris. As his being came into view, he began towards the bespectacled fairies, he became face-to-face with a set of four or five heads upon a great purple body.

"Where are you going? Can we come too?" the heads chorused. Thorkur jostled, his robes clinking ominously.

"No, now leave me be!" he bellowed, and continued to the bank, while the heads looked disappointed. He ordered the poor fairy to take his bag and hand him a teleportation tablet. With nay a spot of gratitude to the banker, he crushed the tablet and left.

At home, Thorkur stood for a moment, and sighed. Althazdrar came to him, motioning for his staff, but Thorkur waved him off.

"Not yet, Althazdrar, I still don't feel better, so I'll head back out in a moment."

Althazdrar appeared to frown.

"Demonic though I may be, master, I might still say you are taking this a bit too far. It doesn't seem to be working," he chastised. Thorkur turned away, sadness in his eyes.

"Perhaps you're right… perhaps it's time I went and took care of some of these loose ends." He pondered a moment, and then turned through the portal directly outside, his golden and black Skillcape of Mastery of Smithing swishing to follow, intent on having a drink and perhaps a spar with Koschei. Althazdrar silently bowed and left on his own business. Perhaps he could use his own resources to assist in the crisis.

A short time later, Thorkur stood under Rellekka, appearing vary cautious as Enakhra and Akthanakos phased off somewhere.

"So… Karshai, then. I think somehow, I always knew. Your past was always peculiar, and Zemouregal's notes mentioned you still lived somewhere. It seemed to fit," Thorkur spoke warily. Koschei the Deathless—now the mahjarrat, Karshai—nodded in agreement.

"Yes indeed, perhaps our paths were destined to cross as they did, brother Thorkur, for I believe you will have much to do in this realm in the future." Thorkur relaxed somewhat at his words.

"Then, what will you do now? The Ritual is over."

"Living as I have this length of time and remembering my past has given me new inspiration. I have concluded that our race—once proud and prolific—will be no more after a few millennia if this fighting amongst us continues. Though I called myself a barbarian for a time, it is they who are the true barbarians. They feel no kinship with each other, and despite this the thought of the continuation of the Ritual makes me… melancholy," Karshai returned.

Thorkur replaced his staff, relieved that there would finally be another to shoulder the burden he now carried.

"But how will you do this? They cannot be reasoned with, as the Ritual restores their power. And their two gods are far removed. Though Lucien is dead, it was not without cost of others. Is that not the fate of the mahjarrat?" Thorkur spoke.

"You speak hard, but take note my friend, I have learned of things beyond war during my time as a human, even from the most warlike among you. Because of this, I remain in my true form despite not having participated in the Ritual for millennia. Because I have not used any of my true power, living without memory as I have, my strength has not decreased. I believe there may be mahjarrat who would be interested in this; as such a thing as not using our power has not happened before, to my knowledge. Particularly among the Zarosian mahjarrat." Thorkur shook his head.

"But how will your race continue? All things must face death, no matter how long it takes, and the only woman of your race remaining will surely never find any sort of redemption. She does not wish it; she does not even value her own life in favor of Zamorak, much less the lives of others. She would never seek to rejuvenate the race, as you just saw."

Karshai nodded and became grim.

"Yes, I myself may not be enough. Without the ability to birth more mahjarrat we shall someday perish, leaving behind no past worth revering. I think in order to do anything for Enahkra, Zamorak must be defeated, or betray her somehow. Which he would, if he needed to. But there cannot be in fighting between the Zarosian and Zamorakian mahjarrat. I will have to remain carefully neutral if I am to accomplish anything."

"I am on good terms with the Zarosian mahjarrat, however I will not reveal your intentions to them if you wish it," Thorkur replied.

"I thank you for that. I do not trust them nearly as much as you, but I do think they are our best chance. Remain wary of their intentions. I will remain here for now with my true brethren. Inform the chief of my situation, use your own judgment in what you reveal."

"Being a mortal, I suppose there's not much I can do in all this…" Thorkur sadly turned to leave.

"Do not fear, for you are the most remarkable being I have known, and there is much to be done," Karshai rumbled, "and so you shall, bold human, so you shall."

Thorkur stumbled blearily across the Ghorrock Plateau, the cold bit him through his mail, but he welcomed the numbness. It brought him relief as flashes of the hellish war he'd fought here rent him. How long had he fought? How much power had he then, and how much power had his foes to bring about such destruction upon the land? Scars of the battle had faded under permafrost, while the Ritual Marker remained as it had for centuries, impeccably taunting him.

Trudging through the deep snow, Thorkur let tears freeze from his eyes as he made his way to the Ritual Marker. So much had happened here, so much death it had seen. So much death he had seen…

"RAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Thorkur cried out in fury and sorrow as he forcefully sent a bolt of lighting down from the heavens to strike the evil marker. Nothing was right! His friends shouldn't have died, he shouldn't have been left with his back pressed against the weight of the world, there shouldn't be immortals constantly playing with him—

Thunder boomed and lightning crackled around the Ritual Marker. Piercing winds began to swirl around it as he fed more power to the Divine Storm of Armadyl, channeling all of his magic and emotions to submit before the gods who decided to mock his life so. Thorkur raised the pale copy of the Staff of Armadyl to the cold skies.

"Do those above doubt my power!? Does Guthix!? Why am I the only one still alive!? Why am I the only one to keep these secrets!? Am I being raised like cattle to the slaughter!? THEN DO SO! SMITE ME, YE GODS, MIGHTIEST OF BEINGS!"

The Marker stood strong under his wrath, and with a flash, it seized Thorkur from the realm.

He flew along as faces swam before him in a flurry. Mahjarrat waged war upon each other here with far greater numbers and considerable might, and then armies filled his vision as fire and ice rained from the skies. Thorkur saw Nex, flying down in the blink of an eye to wipe out entire battalions with one fell swoop. On the barren ice world, ghosts of men and women of all races drifted along, crying out in pain, while nothing but a splash of blood stood upon the Marker. These ghosts must all of died here at the whims of these higher beings, their voices filled him and compelled him, until one of them began to call his name.

Thorkur…

What is wrong, Thorkur?

Thorkur gasped as he returned to reality. The Marker stood before him, as innocently and terribly as before and centuries before then.

"Are you awake, Thorkur?" Kneeling in the snow, Thorkur turned to face the one who spoke.

"Arrav…" He wiped his eyes.

"What's wrong, you look weak, Arrav," Thorkur said, attempting to reach out to his friend, finally freed from Zemouregal's thrall.

"My body…" he groaned, "without Zemouregal's magic to preserve it, it will soon crumble to dust." Thorkur agonized, unwilling to lose another friend.

"Is there nothing I can do to save you?" Thorkur cried out.

"You have already saved me, my friend," Arrav said softly, "I should have died long ago, but my mind was imprisoned in this lifeless husk. Now my torment is over. What of Zemouregal?"

"He still lives, rejuvenated by the ritual," Thorkur snarled.

"Avarrocka! The shield! You must…"

"Varrock is safe, remember? Zemouregal's last attack failed." Arrav shook his helmeted head.

"I… my mind… it is hazy…"

"A man named Dimintheis wields your shield proudly. While his bloodline stays strong, so too shall Varrock." Arrav lifted himself.

"Ah, that is good… but Zemouregal will not give up."

"And neither shall we, Arrav."

There was silence.

"Arrav?"

"…"

And Arrav fell, the last of his spirit spent, while the wind carried him away. Thorkur prostrated himself.

"Rest well, hero of Varrock."

Thorkur awoke late the next day. He'd spent a long time lost in thoughts by the fire upon returning from Ghorrock Plateau the previous night, and drifted off in his chair. Althazdrar must have teleported him to his bed after that. He ate a swift lunch and left house again, for there were still places he needed to go. He'd decided that he must press on, for the sake of Gielinor, regardless of what would happen to himself or his being.

He made for the nearest fairy ring as he exited the teleportation matrix. He walked leisurely to the Zanaris Bank and politely asked the fairy for his enchanted water tiara and a ring of slayer. This time the fairy returned his smile as he rubbed the ring and left.

"Well, Thorkur, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Sumona smirked at him, "you never come see me for assignments anymore, after all." Thorkur reached out to shake her hand, something it had taken awhile to get her to do. She had a very firm grip, as always. Perhaps she didn't know her own strength compared to humans. Oh yes, he was quite aware she was really Amascut, the Goddess of Destruction of the desert pantheon, even if she refused to admit it.

"I have business over in Nardah, actually, so I'm just passing through," Thorkur smiled. He'd come to respect her as a Slayer Master the past several years, even if it was just a convenient disguise while she plotted his death. Still, she seemed awfully quiet in that regard. He would have never thought she would spend so much time among humans if she wanted to destroy. Perhaps, he secretly hoped, the mask was no longer a mask.

"I'd gathered as much. I see you have an assignment of waterfiends from Kuradal. Does that bitch give you too hard of assignments? You could always come back to me for them," she sneered somewhat.

"Be nice to her, she's the most powerful and… destructive human that I know. And sorry, but she's the one I need right now," Thorkur said as Sumona handed him a cup of iced tea. She snorted in reply. "And besides, I'd like to talk to her about something later regarding the death of her father."

"Duradal was killed?" Sumona said sharply, "how? He would not have fallen so easily." Thorkur paused, wondering if he should tell her for a moment.

"Lapalok has taken his place as Slayer Master." Sumona narrowed her crimson eyes.

"Good to know, but don't avoid the question." Thorkur swirled his tea quietly.

"…It was Lucien, the mahjarrat. Him and five others, including Turael were killed. Statues of their likeness reside in Falador park now." Sumona's eyes went wide this time. She was silent, and seemed angry and… afraid?

"…Mahjarrat," she spat.

"I was present during the battle, and not long after at their Ritual of Rejuvenation. Lucien was killed there. By Dragonkin."

"Wha—Dragonkin?"

"Yes, Dragonkin." Sumona placed her hand to her face and turned from him. What was she feeling right now? What did she know of the Dragonkin?

"Their kind has not been seen since time immemorial. Only myths remain. I know little of them," she answered when he voiced this thought. He placed his hand on her shoulder, making her flinch.

"Sumona, the mahjarrat are rejuvenated and plotting. The Dragonkin have sought me out, as a user of the Stone of Jas. They gave me a vision of the destruction of this realm. 'Return to reality and await your fate,' they told me. Forces are mustering in the world, Sumona!"

She averted her eyes.

"But… why are you telling me this? What do I care if the world is destroyed?"

"I know you. I know how you feel about the mahjarrat. How they destroyed everything in their path. I think you care more than you let on." She bared her teeth at him, revealing pronounced canines.

"Know me? You don't know anything about me, or what the… the mahjarrat have done!"

"But I do, Sumona!" He looked her in the eye, which widened again as her fangs retreated.

"You…"

"I can't do this, Sumona… I can't face these forces alone. I've been subjected to the musings of higher beings for so long. You know what I mean. I'm saying I need your help, now!"

"But I… you…"

"Your hatred needs to be pushed aside, for the sake of Gielinor! I know what I'm asking of you and maybe a mortal like me can't tell you what to do, but I know there's more to you than this, that you once cared a great deal."

"…" She did not speak. Contemplating his words. Their tea lay warm and forgotten on the table. Thorkur closed his eyes and turned to the doorway.

"As I said, I must go to Nardah. I have an ally in all this there, and I must confer with him. If you want to know more about all this, please come with me." She looked away for a moment. Then slowly nodded.

They walked silently across the sands. The heat did not seem to bother her as it did him, but then, she was a goddess after all. Once in Nardah, Thorkur stopped outside the home of Ali the Wise and turned back to Sumona.

"Now, promise me you won't do anything… rash when you meet him."

"…Why?" she said suspiciously.

"Consider it proof of your intentions, whatever they may be."

"You realize that asking me this is enormous risk to you and your little plans."

"Yes, and I am taking that risk. So promise me," he stared at her intently.

"Fine, fine," she motioned flippantly. He nodded, and entered the door. The elderly but spry man inside welcomed them inside.

"Thorkur, I've been expecting you for a time now since the Ritual. And this must be 'Sumona'. Thorkur has informed me of you."

"You remember what I told you at the Ritual? I think it's time," Thorkur said to Ali the Wise.

"I see… I'm not sure I agree with you on this, but I admit the situation is dire…"

"What? What do you mean?" Sumona interrupted, but Ali the Wise slowly crossed his arms. He faded for a moment, until in his place stood a taller man, once a skeleton now flesh, eyes glowing in power. Sumona shrieked in fury.

"MAHJARRAT!" She fisted her hands at her sides as her eyes began to shine. They could hear whirlwinds picking up outside the house. Sumona's dress began to billow around her. Wahisietel made to defend himself, but Thorkur came behind Sumona and grabbed her waist and neck, knowing that if she truly didn't care, he could do nothing to stop her.

"Stop, Sumona! He's with me! He will help!"

"Are you a fool, Thorkur!? He's a filthy mahjarrat! He cares about nothing!"

"No! He's not like Lucien and Zemouregal and Zamorak! Not all of the mahjarrat are like them! You promised, Sumona, please!"

Slowly, the winds of power died, but her eyes remained bright in hatred.

"Explain," she threatened. Thorkur carefully removed his arms.

"Alright then, Wahisietel," he said. The mahjarrat shook his head.

"You are the craziest human I've ever met, Thorkur. Fine, then." Thorkur sat in a chair as he and Wahisietel began about the escalating situation on Gielinor.

"These Dragonkin… how can they be so strong? Lucien wasn't completely lying when he called himself a god…" Sumona, now calm, murmured.

"It seems to be related to the Stone. They appeared impervious to Lucien because he used it excessively," Wahisietel said, still carefully keeping his distance and guard up.

"We hid the Stone after that. We could not use it against them without being tempted by its power. They would destroy us," Thorkur replied from his seat. Sumona walked over and sat in the chair next to him, also keeping her distance from the mahjarrat. She would kill him at a moment's notice if he did anything, but for now she'd decided she would have to tolerate him.

"A pity," she said wistfully, "so much power…"

"And that is why we must keep it hidden," Thorkur said sharply to her.

"So they will begin in Edgeville you say? This 'vision' you had of Draynor interests me," Wahisietel said thoughtfully. Thorkur nodded.

"Yes, Edgeville has already been devastated, actually. And I have seen what happens to realms that they take their fury out upon."

"Kethsi, you mean," Wahisietel agreed, "I may visit there myself to see what I can learn."

"On another note, I have some new information for you Wahisietel since the Ritual."

"Oh?" Thorkur nodded.

"Lucien has a daughter."

There was silence for a moment.

"Well…" Wahisietel began, "that is certainly… unexpected."

"She's only half mahjarrat, probably with human, though I have no idea who her mother was. Her name is Moia. It seems that among you only Zemouregal knew about her. When I first met Lucien he mentioned a daughter, but it seemed so off-hand… I never thought he'd been serious."

"What do you know about her?"

"Well, before I say, I need to explain about something else, something big and mysterious. It's about Bilrach."

"He was not present at the Ritual, did you discover why that is?"

"It began with something that I want you to resolve for me. A time ago, a strange power was felt on the land by many adventurers, mages and seers." Wahisietel inclined his head.

"It seems you are referring to the energy released by the death of a mahjarrat."

"So it's true… I thought I'd felt the same thing at the Ritual… then, Bilrach must be dead. But his work remains."

"Don't leave me out of this," Sumona said vehemently, "what do you mean? I scarcely see you so troubled."

"Ah, well… there's this place known to my kin as 'Daemonheim'…"

A short time later, Wahisietel had prepared some food for his guests, mainly for the sake of the mortal in the room, who had finished his explanation.

"Bilrach has fooled us all, then… this situation may be unprecedented." Thorkur nodded.

"Karshai agrees with me."

"Karshai?"

"Ah, right, I forgot to mention that Karshai is now alive and accounted for."

"Indeed? And how is he?"

"He's at full strength despite not having been in at the Ritual. It's a bit of a long story, but he's been spending time living as a human. He's formed kinship with them, and no longer follows any god. I am confident he can help with whatever lies ahead."

"Interesting. These two situations may be related. You say symbols of the Dragonkin appeared there?"

"Yes, and not just there either. Their influence must have truly been vast."

"I will have to do some investigating at Daemonheim. In the meantime, all we can do is wait for something to happen." Wahisietel stood as Thorkur finished his meal.

"Yes," Thorkur said, "I can only continue adventuring, as I always have, until a crisis forms." Sumona stood as well, sensing the meeting was over, which she was glad for.

"Above all, Thorkur, do not forget your own history. This is not the first time a mahjarrat has misused the Stone of Jas; the Dragonkin have been here before. And yet life goes on…" Wahisietel mused. Thorkur thanked him.

"Then you will go see Kuradal now?" Sumona said quietly.

"Yes. I must discuss the vision I saw with her, and inform her of Lucien's death."

Wahisietel reverted to his disguise as Ali the Wise as they made their way outside.

"Farewell, Thorkur, I will let… Dr. Nabanik know of these developments." Thorkur nodded as Ali the Wise returned to his home. He turned to Sumona, who still looked unsure.

"You've heard it a lot by now, but you are a strange human," she said, subtly acknowledging her identity. Perhaps she was not yet ready to discuss it.

"I don't know if I can promise what you want of me. I can't stop my hatred of those mahjarrat, even if you're friendly with a few of them."

"I trust you, Sumona," Thorkur said simply. She said nothing, and turned away and vanished back to her home.

"What are you doing here? Go back down those stairs and slay some waterfiends!"

Well, Kuradal was in a mood… Thorkur grew a little nervous, as she was quite intimidating.

"Ah, you see…"

"Spit it out!"

"Lucien is dead."

"…Yes, I know. I saw his corpse up at the ritual site." Thorkur was surprised, and somewhat relieved.

"What? You were there? But I didn't see you." Kuradal seemed a bit less irate now.

"Nor I you, but I was there, fighting off mahjarrat and their minions. None of them were Lucien, though." Her expression fluctuated again. Perhaps the situation had her a bit unstable.

"I chased one of them into a cave full of ice elementals called glacors. After killing a couple hundred of those, I managed to escape, but by then it was all over: everyone had gone." Thorkur decided to tread carefully.

"You seem angry. I'd have thought you'd be glad he's dead."

"I am, but Lucien was my kill! Mine alone! No one had the right to take that from me! No one!" she raged, but faltered.

"…How will I honor my father's memory?"

"You honor him every day." Kuradal raised an eyebrow.

"Bah! Any more of that touchy-feely nonsense and I'll be forced to revoke your slayer license…" He looked appalled.

"But yo-"

"Hahaha! The look on your face! That cheered me up some. Thanks, Thorkur." He rolled his eyes.

"Okay fine, how about you help defeat what killed Lucien?"

"Which was what, exactly?" she said expectantly.

"A Dragonkin. Three of them, in fact."

"Hmm, now that sounds like a challenge worthy of a slayer master… I've got some preparations to make. Collecting those for a dungeon could be tricky…" Thorkur blanched.

"Collecting them? You're crazy!"

"Ha! Your face again!"

"…"

"…Who says I'm joking?"

"…Okay, crazy lady, I'm going back to the waterfiends."

"Yeah you'd better!"

The sun was setting by the time he finished off the waterfiends. He stepped through to Ardougne for a bite of food before returning home. He sat in a field, eating some cake for dessert. Off in the distance he saw something which compelled him, and and got up and left.

"Attention! Legends' Guild member approaching!" The guards saluted him as he passed the mithril gate. Thorkur walked past the busts of great people and pushed open the doors.

"Hello, Thorkur, by complete coincidence there's a gathering of members upstairs. It's good that you happened to drop by," Radimus greeted him. As usual, the bearded man seemed occupied.

"Really? Well, I suppose I'll go see what everyone is up to…"

"Hey, Thorkur!" Ozan ran up to him, brandishing his ukulele, "How are you doing, my friend? Come, come, we've got the finest ale this side of Kandarin upstairs!"

"Oh, if I must, Ozan the Insufferable…" Thorkur mumbled good-naturedly as he allowed the dashing rogue to escort him upstairs.

"Thorkur! You've forgotten to clean your sword!" called Sir Owen. Thorkur laughed nervously, remembering Sir Tiffy's fate in his vision as he wiped down Korasi's revered blade.

"Hey, Thorkur, I wanted to ask you for your opinion on a teleportation device I've been working on," Ariane ran over to him and shoved some strange contraption in his face, her eyes popping in excitement.

"Alright, alright no need to be pushy Ariane…"

The gathering turned out to be more of a random celebration, really. The full moon had long since risen as he spent time with his guildmates, whom had long been comrades. Over the years, though, they'd mostly just conversed over their adventures. Eventually, even the reclusive Linza and unsociable Raptor had appeared. Drink in hand, Thorkur went over by himself to examine the bow cabinet.

"Why the long face, Thorkur?" Xenia spoke from the corner.

"I'm wearing a helmet, Xenia," he replied through his dragon full helm. She waved him aside.

"Doesn't take a lunar mage to read your heavy shoulders, Thorkur," she said gently, "so out with it."

He looked around and noticed the rest of the guild eyeing him as well.

"Well, I… there's a lot that has happened in Gielinor over the years, and… a lot more is coming. There's a lot of information about the world that I've never shared with any of you." He swallowed hard.

"Not because I don't trust any of you, but, well, when I left Lumbridge all those years ago, I never thought I'd be the one to take it all. I never thought about what I might become. I just… never looked back until now. And I never thought I'd be here among you all. Most of you all began your adventures like I did, when I did, but you became so famous with your talents. Compared to that luminosity I feel… dim. So, why me?"

No one spoke for a moment, digesting his words.

"Hey now, what are you talking about?" Ariane demanded, "who was it that went to Lumbridge, ran straight up to the Duke, and demanded a quest?"

"Well— I was foolish, such actions should have gotten me tossed in prison—"

"And," she continued vividly, "who was it that revived the lost art of runecrafting as a result?"

"I was just a messenger boy, it was you who really—"

"It wasn't just then," Ozan interrupted, "who helped me save Al-Kharid? I was just a low-life then, without your help and trust when there was none then the whole desert would be in chaos."

"And a more exemplary White Knight and Temple Knight you'd be at a loss to find," Sir Owen said seriously, "without you, our organization would be far less than it is."

Thorkur looked frantically between everyone, trying to find ways to deny their words.

"Thorkur, you may not have realized it, but you've gone far beyond us all," Xenia said quietly. The elderly heroine walked to him and placed her hand on his armored shoulder.

"When you left me in Lumbridge, you were so unsure. It's been more than a decade since then. You have traveled further than any of us, done things we can only imagine, witnessed things that have been lost forever. You went over the hills, under mountains, and across the seas. You wandered through the deserts of sand and snow, and the black plains of the Wild. You possess expert knowledge and skill in every art imaginable. We look to you as the one who understands the most, the one who has seen the most, who seeks no reward for it. You are not a master of none; you are a master of all."

Thorkur could no longer find words.

"That's right!" Ariane piped up again, "you think so much of me, but think seriously of yourself! Your skills in magic, runecrafting, and summoning—each of them is close to mine! Why, I bet you could be an Archmage of the tower soon, if you wanted to."

"And a quicker mind and more dashing hero I cannot find!" Ozan boasted, "except me, perhaps," he added. Ariane and Sir Owen looked at him with exasperation.

"Your dedication to the good of the people and the realm is beyond compare," Sir Owen stated boldly and slammed his arm onto Thorkur's opposite shoulder, "I am proud to call you an equal, if not my superior."

"I may not look it, but I'm forever grateful to you for your help in my dream of becoming the greatest of all craftspeople," the normally silent Linza spoke to him from the sword case, "that cape you wear now is proof of the bond we have all forged together, and I'm sure you shall earn many more capes in the future, maybe even the one cape to rule them all."

Thorkur looked gratefully to Linza, fingering the trim on his cape. Everyone else turned to the Raptor who remained in the corner.

"…Well, you're a strong warrior, I guess. No, not guess, definitely. I await the day we may test our skills together with anticipation," he deadpanned.

"Everyone… thank you…"

All were silent as they looked proudly upon him.

"Esteemed heroes of the Legend's Guild!" one of the guards had run upstairs, panting.

"An explorer named Orlando Smith is outside," he wheezed, "he claims he has discovered something incredible just on the other side of the guild that all members should see!"

"Oh really? I've heard of him, let's see if his claim is as ridiculous as his others," Xenia walked towards the guard, "Well, Thorkur?" she called, "I believe this is your area of expertise, will you lead us?"

"It would be my honor," he nodded, as the rest of the guild began to clamber down the stairs.

"Whatever it is, we'll face it together," he thought with conviction.