"What the…?" Lance Jaszas muttered to himself as he advanced on the fleeing Zamorakian monk. Lance had been heading for Falador when a strange, red-robed monk with a dreadful scar across his left cheek had burst out of nowhere and ambushed him along the road from Draynor. The monk was weaponless; in fact, all he did was engage in verbal conflict. The monk, due to his religion and nature, had roared out every swear word known to human beings, and even insulted Lance with some kind of Zamorakian profane language. The evil human cleric then capped it off by actually pointing his two middle fingers in a straight line while his beady red eyes glared into the Slayer's eyes with deep hatred. It was enough to drive Lance off the edge, and the normally calm Slayer had charged forward, reaching for his Longsword to end the monk's life. However, he had severely underestimated the monk; the Zamorakian worshipper fled with his tail between his legs, running as fast as lightning and hurling insults back at his pursuer. Lance never stopped either; his long legs kept pumping and finally the Slayer had cornered the monk at the bottom of a steep cliff near Rimmington. The monk then promptly disappeared.
Lance stood impatiently beside a bunch of dead grass, looking up and down the cliff. It was very brown and there were various ledges lined on it; lots of rocks protruded from the side. The Slayer then tucked his Longsword into its red sheath and took a brief look around the area he was currently standing in. Barren landscape pervaded every inch of the grim area west of Rimmington. The clear, azure sea lay lazily just south of the barren ground, and he could just make out signs of Hobgoblins wandering the beaches, picking at the green Snape Weed on littered everywhere. There weren't even any signs of trees; the Hobgoblins were the only signs of life here. As he turned his head towards the gleaming sun in the sky, his whole body jolted. What caught his eye was the strange, black-colored longhouse at the top of the cliff, alighted by the bright sun; whatever it housed, it made Lance climb the cliff. That was because a clear Zamorak symbol was stitched on a wooden pole protruding from the edged roof on the longhouse. The monk might just be there….after all, Zamorakians had ways of teleportation. Lance smiled slightly to himself, strapped on his tightest gloves and his sturdy climbing boots, and hurled himself onto a rock on the cliffside, preparing for a swift ascension.
"I am so gonna get that son of a goblin," Lance vowed as he grasped a rock tightly and forced his heavy body upwards. The Slayer, due to his nimbleness and lack of patience, had already scaled half of the cliffside. He didn't care about the increasing difference between his body and the ground itself, as he was never scared of heights. In fact, the brave Slayer had once ridden a Karamjan Jungle Eagle mighty high into the sky on a mission to exterminate some annoying Bronze Dragons which have escaped into the sky from their domain deep inside a jungle cave. He had been forced to turn 360 degrees upside down while clutching onto his Eagle, and he was never terrified by it. In fact, he liked the feeling. Even so, Lance was dead tired by now due to his heavy armor and backpack, and he clutched another rock, pulling himself onto a safe ledge. He slumped against the rough cliff wall and took a quick sip of water from his bottle. Beads of sweat were forming rapidly on his skin, covered by the humid armor he was wearing. The sun's rays seemed to be focusing on him the whole time. Lance gritted his teeth and placed his hands on another rock. He continued to scale the cliff, ducking his head narrowly to dodge a narrow spike sticking out.
"Ahh…it's gonna be a long day," Lance mused as he swung himself expertly on top of a narrow ledge; he landed on his climbing boots. "But I've got to track down that Zamorakian…there's more to him than it appears."
Approximately fifteen minutes later, the Slayer had managed to propel himself onto the cliff top with the last ounce of his fading strength. Climbing was more difficult than he thought as the Slayer collapsed onto the ground, panting in tiredness. He forced himself to stand up, and for a while he wobbled weakly on the ground as his legs regained their original strength. Lance could see the black building looming straight in front of him; a dense forest stood behind it, with parches of green grass spread widely around the area. Lance suddenly heard a noise, and spun around quickly, his sharp eyes darting around the landscape for any signs of danger. A barrage of flying arrows shot out from the forest, aiming straight at the Slayer. Lance's eyes widened, and then narrowed in hatred. He leapt to the side, avoiding the arrows, took a deep breath, and bashed open the door to the building with a single punch of his gnarled hand. A dim light shot out at him, illuminating his face clearly as he took a cautious step onto the thick carpet snaking from the end of the corridor. The torches on the walls cast wicked shadows on the wooden walls. Lance took another deep breath; he was ready to investigate the Zamorakian lair.
The corridor was long and dark, illuminated only with flaming torches that cast little light and the meager light that came through the extremely muddled windows. The corridor practically rumbled as the something heavy sheeted onto the roof, and the suddenly strong wind found its way through the battered remnants of the door, howling down the hall. Lance had wrapped himself in one of the robes that he had discovered lying on a granite bench, trying to stave off the cold, icy conditions protruding from the sudden wind assault.
Gradually, however, the temperature started to increase, and the wind's howling grew quieter. Lance also noticed that the corridor was no longer sloping upwards, and starting to level out. The building must be built on pillars and stilts. As the temperature grew from freezing to tolerable, he threw away his stolen robe onto the carpet and started to walk more sneakily, switching his Climbing Boots with soft Ninja shoes. After about half an hour of dodging patrols of more fighters who could only be best described as monks, Lance decided to get rid of his bag due to its added weight. Carefully, he picked the lock of a storage cupboard on a wall nearby and threw the bag inside. Just to be sure he would be safe storing it there, Lance carefully put a tiny coin he fished out from his pocket and put it in the door slot, at the base, clearly in sight but ignorable by most people. The moment he was done he stood back up, drew his sword, and moved on, continuing to walk slowly. The building was now slanting downwards, as if digging into the ground itself.
As he moved throughout the interior of the mountain in which the cliff edged out from, Lance noticed alertly that the air became warmer and moister. Strange sounds echoed throughout the narrow domain, like gigantic, muffled explosions. Lance had been to lava-filled caverns and found forests with unique ecosystems; but never before had he been anywhere as bizarre as this. The carpet had ended, and Lance stepped foot on solid ground; it was no longer polished floor tiles. He was about to leap across a corridor cross-roads, behind a group of red-dressed monks, when his foot fell in a moisture-formed puddle lying unnoticed on the ground, and a loud splash reverberated through the corridor. Lance froze instantly.
The monks stopped conversing and slowly turned. Lance turned at looked at them. In unison they drew back their hoods and threw off their cloaks swiftly. And then Lance had a brigade of sixteen sword-wielding, battle-trained, and really dangerous fit young men leaping their way down the corridor, straight towards him. Even though it was hardly a fair fight, Lance raised his sword bravely. The first two warriors flew through the air at him, shouting loudly and aiming their razor-tipped weapons at his chest. Quickly he raised his sword and slashed at them rapidly, dealing swift, accurate strokes. The first warrior wasn't injured, but the angle he was moving at made the area above his left ear hit the blade. Unconscious, his body slammed into the wall, and slid down to lie on the floor immobile. Lance turned and attacked the other warrior with equal confidence. This one wasn't so lucky – the blade splintered the sword he was wielding and drove itself across the man's hands. He fell back, one hand with two and a half fingers missing and the other retaining only a thumb and half a palm. He screamed as a geyser of blood erupted from his wounds, and collapsed, throbbing in agony.
The remaining monks were held transfixed as Lance easily finished off his first attackers. The next pair hesitated, just long enough to give Lance a window of time to escape. He seized the opportunity and bolted down one of the corridors, running as fast as he could. The monks behind him growled and shouted in anger as they watched Lance turn a corner and disappear from sight.
"Let's get him, boys!" a monk commanded. "We must avenge Zakok and Defah!" The others raised their swords in agreement before they charged.
As Lance sprinted he removed the torches from their racks, throwing them on the floor. It would slow him down but also hinder the pursuing monks' progress. After he had cleared on corridor he moved on, down another, entering a large hall. He stopped there and looked around, to see table after table of monks dining and talking. Blazing torches lined the wide walls, and smoke drifted from an iron spit in the middle, in which a Jubbly bird was being cooked on.
He couldn't believe it. He was in the mess hall.
"Sorry guys, but I gotta go!" Lance announced hurriedly, watching the monks stand up simultaneously, their eyes staring hard at the surprised Slayer.
As the monks started to leap over tables and glide through the air towards him, Lance ran possibly the fastest he had ever run out of the hall. He was presented with a dilemma of five different choices as he stopped at a corridor crossover. He didn't waste any time being picky – he ran down the middle one. The horde of monks followed him steadily. He dashed down the corridor, as suddenly there was a piercing cry from a strange instrument which sounded like a mix between a horn and drum. All the doors on either side of the corridor opened roughly, and the Slayer knew what was coming.
"Oh damn!" he muttered as he realized he was running right through the mountain's barrack blocks. Some of the monks were slow to react, giving Lance just enough time to pass through without gaining any injuries, and spin round to a smaller corridor on the right. In places it was so small he had to duck to avoid hitting his head on the iron pipes that ran overhead; he also had to edge his body accordingly, due to jagged spikes running along the bloodstained walls. He emerged, exhausted, to find himself in a new area, a gargantuan cavern that was basically a giant arboretum and botanical garden in one area. Beneath the oddly out-of-place foliage he darted down various earthen paths, picking at random on a route which he hoped would lead him to safety. He ran around a looming tree; he could hear the cries of battle-ready monks as they pursued him.
Suddenly, the trail stopped, leading to a corner. Lance stopped moments before he hit the granite rock face. The war-cries were growing louder and louder, closer and closer. Frantically Lance looked for an exit, his eyes darting around like mad. He ran his fingers over the wall, trying to find something that would open a door. Instead, his fingers ran over a very fine perimeter, and detecting this, he yanked the door open with all his might, revealing a low, dimly-lit passage. He sighed, and crawled through the well-hidden door; using the handle on the back of the disguised door to pulled it shut. He spied a lock on the side, and he latched it tightly. Moments later the pounding of fists rang through the narrow passage, but Lance continued on.
For a while, everything was the same --- a narrow rocky seam which spiraled up and down, seemly leading to nowhere. Lance was getting extremely tired of the same scenery, and he feared that it led to nowhere. It might be a trap, after all. The Slayer spied a dim light source poking through somewhere in front, and his confidence returned. He crawled faster, further through, and discovered that the passage was widening again. Delighted, he paused to re-sheath his sword, and he pulled his glove straps on tighter. The Slayer noticed a strong light coming from the outside as he continued to crawl, and found the answer immediately. Tons of Giant Rocs stood on a stone platform, compacted by earth and wood. He groaned.
"Dang it," Lance hissed as a Roc swiped at him, knocking the unprepared Slayer unconscious.
****************
Lance awoke to find himself in a circular room, bound tightly to a crude chair by a bunch of chains. Bright light shone down from an oval-shaped light bulb hanging on the polished ceiling. The walls were snowy white and bookshelves full of Zamorakian books stood beside an oak desk carved expertly. As Lance's eyesight regained its focus slowly, he drooped his neck and saw his own reflection on the well-polished floor tiles. He saw a ragged man, stripped of his armor and weapons, with a grim, dirty face. Lance sighed and glanced up, suddenly realizing someone else was in the room. He squinted and was able to distinguish a tall man clad in a black cloak, standing directly in front of him. The cloak was unclasped, and underneath Lance could see dragonhide armor trimmed with bright gold. The man radiated a sense of power. Lance tried to move, but the chains were iron-tight and he could not even move a single centimeter.
"Don't try moving, it could cause you severe injuries. By the way, welcome to our establishment, Lance Jaszas." The man rumbled in a rich voice.
Lance stared blankly at the man. "You know my name?"
"Of course, Mr. Jaszas. Everyone knows the accomplishments of the Slayer Lance Jaszas. Although I thought you were a more honorable figure, not someone who sneaks around private establishments of the government like a thief."
"Ah about that, I was chasing a filthy Zamorakian. By the looks of the monks here, I expect all of them to be Zamorakian; am I right?"
"You are."
"And, since when does any kingdom's government hire giant birds and Zamorakian monks to guard an establishment?"
The man smiled darkly. His black eyes seemed to expand. "What do you mean?"
"I mean the Grand Exchange! You can't hide it; I've recognized the building from the very start. Zamorakians have taken over a Grand Exchange building set out on a cliff…" Lance challenged. "It was confirmed when I saw several 'GE' symbols on the walls. Why?"
"Clever. The Grand Exchange is nothing but an elaborate cover story."
"Tell me why! I've just remembered; I've read somewhere that the main link of the Grand Exchange is set somewhere near Rimmington, in Asgarnia. This must be it!"
"Again, you are correct; you do have an impressive mind. That is why I'm gonna reveal to you everything…" the man stated.
"Go on."
"You see, Mr. Jaszas, I work for two men: Vyvin and Lord Statius."
"Sir Vyvin of the Falador White Knights?"
"Correct."
"What does that old man want with this facility?"
"To be king again. To be king of Gielinor, not just Asgarnia. He has agreed to ally the White Knights with the organization I'm from…the Serkotzul. Ever heard of that?"
Lance thought for a moment, and remembered the final meeting of the Ardougne Slayer Force, when Dirk spoke about the Serkotzul being active again. It was all connected!
"The Serkotzul! An evil organization bent on world domination! Don't tell me Vyvin is planning for the conquest of the world, working with you evil people!" Lance whispered furiously.
"Exactly," the man answered, nodding. "It's a win-win situation. Vyvin takes over the world while we do at the same time. Anyway, my monks and Vancori's Rocs are here to look after this facility; after all, it's a critical stage in the plan."
"What would that be?"
"With Grand Exchanges all over Gielinor, set from the desert town of Al-Kharid to humble Lumbridge; from majestic Ardougne to fishers' village Catherby; from ancient Varrock to bustling Port Sarim. Can you think of an easier way to transport the Rocs around?"
Lance realized what the man had meant. With this establishment being the central link of the Exchanges; it could easily transfer objects, or living things, to other Exchanges at the speed of light via teleportation devices. If every Roc were to be teleported simultaneously, the world could be savaged instantly by talons.
"Very strategic planning, I must admit," Lance commented bitterly.
"I'm afraid you won't be able to see it. I won't kill you just yet---it might be useful to interrogate a prisoner about some…interferers. By the way, my name is Hidagyx Keston of the Serkotzul. Pleased to meet you, Lance Jaszas; I'll be back soon." With that, Hidagyx saluted the captured Slayer, turned, and headed out of a marble-constructed door. It slammed tightly behind the Serkotzul member.
Can it be? This Hidagyx and the Serkotzul knows about Victoros and the others! Lance nervously thought. Damn it! I've got to escape somehow and destroy the teleportation links—I might not be able to survive, but at least I'll have saved the world from talons of the Rocs.
He needed to escape, and he had to do it fast. The plan Hidagyx had revealed to him probably was going to be conducted now—he had to do something quick in order to prevent it. Although his Longsword had been removed, he still had some tricks up his sleeve. Lance dropped his head down as far as it could, and used his teeth to rip open the fake jewel of an amulet around his neck. The jewel looked like real ruby, but actually it was as soft as paper. Lance's teeth tore through it, and a small, expandable knife fell; Lance caught it expertly between his teeth, and used it to slice off the chains easily. The blade tore through the iron chains like scissors cutting through plain paper. This knife was capable of picking locks easily, too; as soon as Lance was free, the Slayer used the knife to pick the lock of the marble door, and a moment later he had the door opened. Lance ran outside, and saw his Dragon Longsword lying on a rack outside. He rushed over to it and picked it up, sheathing it safely before grabbing four burning torches from their racks roughly. He looked around the narrow corridor and found no doors—it was clear that there was a secret entrance somewhere. He wasn't going to find it, though. However, the walls were made entirely of wood, underneath all the white paint. Therefore, it was burnable. Lance thrusted the blazing torches forward and set fire to several logs on the ground. He picked one up and laid it next to the door. He did it several times over, and then fanned the flames for a few minutes with his hands, waiting for the wall to catch fire. Eventually, the flames latched onto the white surface, and the paint slowly peeled off. Then faster. Then faster still. Soon flames were creeping up the whole wall, and smoke was climbing up and gathering around the roof. Finally, the wall exploded in a hail of dust and flaming wood. Lance sucked in his breath and wasted no time in running outside. Glad to be free, he gritted his teeth and rested a calm hand on his sword sheath. He began to run—to save the world.
************
"Tonight, my friends, the Serkotzul and White Knights will rule the world," Hidagyx declared grandly. He was standing on a raised platform, speaking in front of a bunch of Zamorakian monks. Giant Rocs were perched on stands behind the monks. Beside Hidagyx sat Vancori and Rapter Henankez, two of his Serkotzul comrades.
"We'll take this world!" Hidagyx continued loudly.
The monks cheered wildly.
"We shall lead armies and conquer the world! We'll establish a grand empire that'll last forever!"
The crowd went mad.
"We'll rule Gielinor!"
The crowd screamed itself hoarse. Vancori watched in amusement.
"All I need to do is activate this rune and summon the teleportation devices that'll take us all over the world. Are you all in your correct groups and formations? Awesome. Truly excellent. You ready, Rapter, Vancori? Our conquest begins now…AAARGH!"
An arrow had cut clean through his hand, and emerging on the other side and going again back through the tip of his index finger, stopping a millimeter away from the rune that had been elaborately carved which served as a button. The arrow, however, had quite clearly destroyed the button. It was now useless.
Everyone turned and looked. Lance Jaszas stood there, clutching a bow and a quiver of arrows.
"Villainous plan averted!" Lance said. He smiled, dropped the quiver and bow, and dashed up a staircase built onto a wall.
Hidagyx was too busy moaning in pain to take charge. Rapter stood up. "After him, brothers!" he ordered loudly over the crowd's groan. The monks saluted the Serkotzul member and charged directly at Lance, who took no chances. He swiped wildly with his Sword, forcing several monks to back up.
Now the Rocs were diving for Lance. The Slayer quickly dashed into a nearby room and saw himself standing in front of a bunch of conveyor belts. Crates stuffed with items lined the walls. It was time for drastic action, and he had no choice but to escape through the conveyor belts. He jumped onto a conveyor belt and wobbled violently as the belt moved rapidly. He spied an open crate in front of him, with a sign stitched on it saying 'EXPLOSIVES—DO NOT TOUCH'. Lance grinned as a plan formulated in his mind.
He looked back quickly and saw Rocs gliding into the room, followed closely by hordes of angered Zamorakian monks. Lance hurriedly turned back to his work and grabbed out several Explosive Potions. He set them neatly on the belt beside him, and ripped open another crate to find several thick wires. A gigantic shadow covered him, and Lance saw a Roc flying right above him, preparing to end his life. The monks had leapt onto the various belts now and were coming straight for the Slayer, but he did not panic once. Lance attached the wires to several Rune Knives and stabbed the tip of the knives into the Potions. He flung them up, and his aim was true as the knife embedded itself into the ceiling. Sure enough, the impact was enough to make the Potion self-destruct; the Roc above him was blown completely away. The other Rocs stopped momentarily, distracted by the protruding cloud of smoke. Lance hurled more knives up, and the same thing happened. Soon everyone was covered smoke, including the monks. Lance, however, had already memorized the path to a portal in the north-east corner. He had mapped out the path of the belts when he had first entered the room, and due to the confusion he had caused, he had some time to reach his destination. The Rocs were flapping wildly, trying to blow the smoke away, but all they managed were blowing the monks below onto their butts. The monks howled and grunted as they tripped over each other, trying to search for Lance.
"Tough luck, eh?" Lance smirked as he finally reached the portal. The smoke had completely cleared by now, and he turned back to see the monks rushing forward, brandishing their weapons. The Rocs above turned their eyes to Lance and dived.
"See ya!" Lance bellowed. "Nice knowing y'all!" He could see the injured Hidagyx in front of the disorganized monks, shaking a bloodied fist at him in hatred. Lance sneered at the Serkotzul member and dived into the portal at last.
He looked up minutes later and saw a sign above him. Lance was lying in the midst of several crates in a circular, stone building. Outside, he could see many people bustling about in the familiar streets. He grinned; his work had been done, and he'll see Victoros again. As the Slayer stood up to leave the empty building, Lance turned and glanced at the sign again, before opening the large double doors and walking into the marketplace.
'Welcome to the Falador Grand Exchange'