Book of the Gods
|Book of the Gods|
|Release||29 May 2013 (Update)|
|Destroy||To obtain another copy, talk to your chosen emissary.|
|On death||Always kept outside Wild|
|A compilation of stories of the gods and their followers.|
|Links||MRID • recipe|
|FAQ • doc|
The Book of the Gods is a book given by an Emissary for joining a particular faction. It contains all nine books related to the nine factions in God Emissaries. As tasks are completed, more chapters are added to the book. There are four chapters in the book for each faction.
This book provides a helpful insight into parts of the histories of some of the gods, The Godless and Sliske, as well as their intentions for returning to Gielinor. Readers may use this book as a tool to help them decide which entity to pledge their allegiance to.
Book info[edit | edit source]
|Book of the Gods|
|Author||Armadyl, Bandos, Domus, Gram Kobold, Moia, Ayanetka, Dagroda, Lamarinta, Amelia, Biehn, Kara-Meir, V|
|Description||A compilation of stories of the gods and their followers.|
|Databox • Talk page|
Transcript[edit | edit source]
Contents[edit | edit source]
- The Book of Armadyl
- The Book of Bandos
- The Book of Saradomin
- The Book of Seren
- The Book of Sliske
- The Book of Zamorak
- The Book of Zaros
- The Book of the Godless
- The Book of V(m)
The Book of Armadyl[edit | edit source]
I arrived on this world several sunsets ago. This is a desolate place: the ground is grey dust in all directions; it is cold and light is scarce. I taste the air and know my people could never have survived here. It is a fitting place for me to stay, for a time.
I walk as I write. My wings trail in the dust, a zigzag record of my time here, and my thoughts turn to legacy. There is nothing of me on Gielinor: my aviansie are dead, my staff has been lost. In time, they will forget me. There is something reassuring about that.
A bright light catches my eye, far to the west. I fly to it. It is nothing but a meteorite, smoking in a crater. This world's similarity to the wilderness of Forinthry is inescapable.
There is no land on this world, just wind, water and waves. Nothing stays still. The chaos of it all deafens me. I hunger for peace, stability, growth; so - upon my arrival - I froze water and made an island. A migrating bird still needs a perch.
To pass the time, I flew on the crosswinds and tried to forget my troubles. I remembered that my aviansie would fly about me as I soared, playfully mimicking my every move.
I know now that I cannot - should not - forget...no matter how much I may wish it.
It seems there is no life on this world. I can see the seeds of life, but not life itself. I feel myself reaching for my staff, to give those seeds a spark of energy, a push to catalyse their efforts... But it is gone.
I have wasted enough time here.
The sky is a boiling mass of noxious gas, and the ground seems to be melting. But - by the Elder Gods - there's life here!
I headed southwards, until everything grew colder. I saw what looked like dark stones, fused to the ground. I attempted to move one, and to my surprise it moved itself! These were not stones, but small, shelled creatures. Sharp legs shot out in attempt to repel me.
I have taken to studying them. Weather, temperatures and tectonics conspiring against them, but they hold firm, clustered in their shells. They survive and endure, again and again.
I must continue my solitary pilgrimage.
The air here is toxic; hard, unrelenting gravity pulls me downwards, and even I must struggle to remain aloft. The world is gas, with no ground to stand on. And yet, this world is a paradise for the beings native to its atmosphere: tiny creatures, the biggest no larger than a wasp or beetle.
They circle around me. At first, I thought they wanted to hide in the down of my feathers. But when I turned, they turned. When I stopped, they stopped. They were mimicking and playing.
I feel my old strength - enough to make the journey back to my home. In the hollows of my bones I know that it is time to return, and to shelter my faithful beneath my wings once more.
The Book of Bandos[edit | edit source]
To the hobgoblins of the Thrasghdak tribe. I, Bandos, your god, give you this message:
In your city you have built a statue of me, higher than your tallest buildings. It is coated in gold and set with jewels of every colour. I have seen how many hobgoblins of your tribe fell to the swords of raiders while bringing the materials for that statue back from the far corners of Yu'biusk. I have seen how the greatest sculptor of your tribe lost her sight while completing her life's work. I have seen the goblins and orks and ogres of other tribes look in wonder at the statue as it shines out on the plain like a second sun.
Do you forget that I am a god of war?
The statue is abhorrent to my sight. I command you to tear it down and destroy every piece of it. The sculptor who designed it and the workers who helped to build it are to be put to the sword.
I am the Lord of Battle, and the only work of craftsmanship that is pleasing to me is a well-made weapon. Your smiths and shamans are to combine their arts to invent new weapons, greater than any the world has seen. Do this, and your tribe will be greater in my sight than all others in Yu'biusk!
To the orks of the Verotark tribe. I, Bandos, your god, give you this message:
In your city you have built a statue of me, finely crafted from a single block of stone. In every capital city of the continent there stands a statue like it, from simple wooden images to great monuments of gold and jewels. These statues are a mark of each tribe's dedication to me.
But behold to the city of the Thrasghdak tribe! Their statue was formerly the most resplendent, like a second sun. But they have torn it down; the plinth stands empty, while the tribe's smiths and shamans combine their arts in secret workshops. By destroying my statue, they reject my righteous rule. They are creating new weapons - not for my glory, but in order to defy me!
You are to gather your tribe for battle and destroy the Thrasghdak tribe. Show no mercy: put to the sword the men and women, the children and elderly. But if you find any weapons that the smiths and shamans have created in their secret workshops, these you are not to destroy: these you are to claim and use in my name. Do this, and your tribe will be greater in my sight than all others in Yu'biusk!
To the ogres of the Azkragthog tribe. I, Bandos, your god, give you this message.
Your conquest of the Verotark tribe pleases me. By waiting to strike until they were weak from their battle with the Thrasghdak tribe, your generals showed cunning.
An act of conquest is the only work that gives me glory. No statue, no ballad - indeed, no finely crafted weapon - is as pleasing to me as a victory bravely won.
You showed cunning, too, in not destroying the weapons that the Trasghdak tribe had begun to build. I have seen these in my pool of visions: their like has never before been seen in this or any other world.
Complete these weapons, build more of them, and use them to conquer the tribes beyond the mountains and beyond the oceans. You will achieve the greatest act of conquest in the history of my world, and the screams of the tribes you slaughter will rise up like music to my holy mountain. Do this, and your tribe will be greater in my sight than all others in Yu'biusk!
To the ourgs of the Goltholglor tribe. I, Bandos, your god, give you this message:
Stand and fight, cowards!
The armies of the Azkragthog tribe bear down on your cities. They rain fire upon you with new weapons. They burn your villages to the ground and butcher their inhabitants.
In my infinite generosity I have given you the same weapons that the Azkragthog tribe are using to attack you. But rather than fight back, you send diplomats pleading for peace. You would sell your sons and daughters as slaves rather than take up arms to defend them!
I know that there are so-called wise ones' in your cities who say that to go on using the new weapons would be the end to all life in Yu'biusk. They are cowards who wish to corrupt you with their ways. If anyone preaches against war, put them to the sword, then take that sword and slay the enemies of your tribe!
Are you not my people whom I raised from the mud and formed into mighty warriors? Have you not seen the gruesome deaths I invent for those who defy me?
Put aside this talk of peace. Destroy, or be destroyed! The last tribe to survive will be greater in my sight than all others in Yu'biusk!
The Book of Saradomin[edit | edit source]
It was a dark time to be an icyene. Saradomin was in another plane, far from us, and the warriors were with him. It was left to Selenome and I to tend the two active farms left on our island. But hard work has never fazed me, not in all my years.
It was not the work that caused our problems, however - it was the rebels. One year, we had more than half our supply of grain stolen. Selenome watched the whole thing, but was powerless to stop it. It was a particularly hard migration.
The rebels did not make our lives easy. We were ill-equipped and ill-suited to defend ourselves. While the rebels rarely did lasting damage, we could not stay in this position forever.
As usual, we thought that perhaps - we might lose them on the next migration.
A priest arrived. Selenome first saw him and his retinue - three aging warriors - on the horizon as we worked the fields. There were ten of us then. War and the rebels had taken their toll.
The priest landed, produced a letter of proclamation and began to read. He was a former soldier, one of the few to escape Gielinor. He had good news: the war was over! And yet, the priest looked solemnly at us as we cheered. He told us that Saradomin had not succeeded in his goals.
We were farmers; those goals were hard for us to see. We were just happy that the fighting had ended. And, with Saradomin returned, the rebels would finally see justice.
The priest offered his services. A blessing was said over the grave of Ceremino, who had seen many migrations. As we paid our respects, there was a sense of renewed spirit and unity within our little community. Saradomin was returning, and with that would come his protection and peace.
Before He came, though, the rebels attacked, eager to strike at the symbol of their hatred - the priest.
There were twelve of them, coming from the north, brandishing spears. They slashed at our crops as they flew by. The three warriors called the villagers to arms.
How I wish that moment had never come! The rebels were intent on attacking the priest and did not hold back. We stood resolute with faith, knowing that Saradomin expected no less until he returned. Even I took up my hoe and stepped forward.
Thirteen Icyene died that day - seven rebels, two warriors and the priest. Of the villagers, young Aserima and her brother Liamenes fell.
But I saw none of that, for I held Selemone in my arms as life escaped her.
I watched impassively as the rebels took our harvest. I couldn't muster a thought.
Before long, the time came for migration. The others left in pairs - not as a community, as they had before - and I was alone. I was ready to lie down and let the cold dark of winter take me.
The shadow drew closer, and the once-bright sun touched the horizon. I went to the grave of Selemone and sat, ready for the Cold Death.
It was then that He came. Like a second sun, He shone on the horizon, and flew towards me unerringly. At his side, almost invisible in Saradomin's brightness, I could see others. Among them was the surviving warrior.
My hope was reignited. Saradomin had returned, and he had not forgotten me.
The Book of Seren[edit | edit source]
The Song of Creation tells of how Seren first came to our home plane. She was the living embodiment of our crystal world - beauty and grace, tranquillity and harmony. She taught us many things: how to shape the crystal with our voices; how to live at one with the world around us; to take only what we needed and to give back all that we could. Our love for her was strong, and that love was given back to us a hundred-fold.
The dawning of our race was a timeless period, so rapt were we with our home and our goddess, but all changed when the green god - Guthix - visited our world. He invited us to join him on a journey to a perfect world. History tells that my people scarce believed his claims, but Seren was eager to explore the universe before her, and was as enamoured with him as she was with us.
Any apprehensions my ancestors may have had were instantly forgotten when they saw Gielinor for the first time, for Guthix had spoken truly. Where our world shone with the light of a million stars, this one's beauty was found in its lush flora and teeming life.
Our lady broke off part of herself for each of the elven clans, and instructed us to seed a city to co-exist with the surrounding forest - a reminder of where we came from and a home to all elves. Seren's curiosity often saw her head out with Guthix to discover its many secrets together, but she would always come home to us, whom she loved above all else. So when Guthix set out to remove the influence of gods from the mortal races and bid Seren join him, her heart was torn. But her love for us was strong, and she chose to stay, promising the green god that she would join him in fullness of time.
But even the best laid plans may go awry. Whatever my goddess's intentions, they were set aside when a great emptiness fell upon this world. It spread like a blight across the land - led by one who cared not to live in harmony with the world as we did, but sought to control all and bend it to its will. We even lost the World Gate to its insatiable hunger, and could travel no more to our crystal world of old.
Seren bid our envoys and scouts back to the forests, though many were lost to the emptiness as it encroached on our eastern borders. Others chose not to heed Seren's words and - instead - chose to fight back. But Seren herself had promised the green god to not involve herself with the wider world; instead to stay within the great forest that was our home. Some of the elf clans were not content to sit at home while their friends and families were dying in the east. Though we all loved the forest and our crystal goddess, our society was split.
Those of us who remained within the forest were protected by Seren's light, and the darkness did not touch us. We mourned those who had left to fight, but eventually we lost track of time and the world outside, much as we had back on our home plane. We had our forest and our goddess - what more did we need? In turn, we were all but forgotten by the world.
So cut off were we that we were unaware that the emptiness had passed, and that it had been replaced by something worse. A terrible new force was bounding across this world, plunging everything into chaos, fire, war and corruption; but still our lady kept us safe. The war threatened to encroach on our domain, but it could not. Our great king - Baxtorian - held it at the pass: the secret way our people used to travel to the east. Our lady was as strong as she was pure, and her will kept us hidden and secure.
But wars escalate and - after so many years of fighting - a faraway land was utterly devastated. The green god awoke from his slumber to cast out those who would raze such a perfect place and enslave its children. At the last, once the influences of all other gods have been removed, he visited our lady in the forest. Though she had chosen to stay with us and to not involve us in this great and terrible war, Guthix was now so resolved in his desire to remove godly influence from the world that he gave her no choice but to leave.
Even still, with sadness and shame in her heart, she would not abandon us completely. She instead chose to wane, exploding in a shower of light and crystal, scattering herself throughout the forest. The green god wept - believing her to be gone - and then he left.
Our people mourned the loss of our goddess as she had been, and those who had struck out east to fight led a pilgrimage back to the forest. But like the city that had been grown from her upon our arrival here, we knew that she lived on within every shard that had scattered throughout the world, and echoes of her voice still sung out in the Tower of Voices. She was not completely lost to us and - even to this day - every elf carries a part of Seren with them, be it in their hearts or in their hands. She continues to be shaped by us and our actions.
Baxtorian and his queen - the lady Glarial - held us strong through our grief, and did much to rebuild our society. After so many years living isolated in the forest, and with the darkness and chaos finally lifted from the wider world, our people struck out east again to greet old and new friends alike. Over the course of time, though, and without Seren's hand to guide us, a great schism formed between the elven clans of old, and now our great crystal city has been lost to us.
With Guthix's passing, some believe that if every crystal were brought together again our goddess could now be returned to us, or that we could regrow our lost city. Others wish to rediscover the World Gate and travel back to our ancestral home, in the hopes that Seren has - or can be - regrown in the crystal there. Yet others wish to honour her final act and do not wish this, for thanks to her sacrifice she has never left us, and it is now up to us to spread her harmony and tranquillity across this world.
The Book of Sliske[edit | edit source]
The Zarosians spilled over our front lines, mixing dust with blood. Their fervour for battle was insatiable. We were ordered to retreat at first light, but we knew we wouldn't make it to dawn. We needed the Kharidian gods to grace the battlefield now; morale was low and the last embers of their civilisation were flickering out. I weighed my coin-bag and wondered if it was time to abandon the life of a mercenary; to steal a ship and leave.
We were blinded momentarily by a burning light, and the ground began to rumble. A wind came rolling across the plains like a tidal wave, drowning out the cries of war. The light spread like a flame burning through parchment, opening a tear in the very fabric of the world. From that yawning rift a small army marched forth, the ground quaking beneath their feet. A figure held the portal open, the head of a jackal atop its shoulders. Icthlarin had returned, and he had brought reinforcements.
It was a turning point in the Kharidian-Zarosian war. Icthlarin's warriors crashed into the Zarosian forces. Their commanders were terrifying to behold - mighty sorcerers, whose name sounded foreign to our ears. The army gave them a new name: the 'Stern Judges'. They towered over us by some feet, clad in robes, with a ridge on their foreheads. One in particular made an impression on me: his laugh echoing in my ears and his rictus grin etched into my memory. His name was Sliske, and he appeared and disappeared at will. He was feared by the soldiers and distrusted by his own kind. I felt a kinship with him, even as I was awed by his power.
Far away, I could make out the Kharidian gods thundering through the enemy, with the Stern Judges at their backs. But Sliske had a different goal, and he moved in other directions. He moved silently. I was barely able to keep track of him as he shifted between shadows. I gave chase, plunging my sword into hapless soldiers in my path.
As I struggled to keep pace with Sliske, I became lost in darkness, the only illumination coming from torches. I fought onwards, and Sliske materialised in a group of enemies. He did not seem to favour his blade; instead, he placed a hand on their armour, and both he and the enemy disappeared. Moments later, Sliske would return, but his opponent would be gone.
I was struck and knocked to the ground, and found myself on my back with a blade at my throat, staring into the wild eyes of a Zarosian scout. Fear washed over me as I heard steel slicing through flesh...but I felt nothing, save a warm trickle of blood on my chest. The body was tossed aside like a doll, and his face peered down at me instead. I shall never forget that grin - like a skull, covered in a veneer of ridged, grey flesh. My eyes locked with Sliske's as he put his finger to his lips. He smiled, and was gone.
In the months that followed, Icthlarin led the charge northwards across the River Elid. I watched in awe as the Stern Judges overpowered their foes. Despite my obsession with Sliske, I found him nigh-impossible to track; one minute I would be watching from afar, the next he would vanish. He built an entourage of spectral wights - shimmering with blacks and purples -as if the warriors he took in battle were returning to serve him.
We finally reached the mountains, and the forces of Zaros made their stand in a narrow pass. Despite their tactical advantage, we were victorious that day. The dust settled and the blood on our swords boiled in the sun. With the majority of the Kharidian lands reclaimed, Icthlarin demanded that Sliske release his wights to him, so he could guide them to the underworld. When Sliske refused, Icthlarin took them by force. With a swipe of his hand, Icthlarin obliterated their ranks. Sliske narrowed his eyes and smiled. With a gesture he was gone, and Icthlarin never counted Sliske as a friend from that day.
The Book of Zamorak[edit | edit source]
My name is Moia, and I was wrong.
I was led to believe that I was worthless; a failure; a mistake. Such were Lucien - my father's - words, and they were all I knew.
I was a failed experiment, he claimed - the thaumaturgical offspring of Mahjarrat and human. I'm not sure what my father hoped for from my conception, but I was certainly not it.
Ironically, it was on an errand from my father that I awakened - one that he considered worthless enough to give to me. I was tasked with hunting down a missing Mahjarrat deep within the heart of Daemonheim. I battled soldiers, crushed necromancers and uncovered a secret that my father would have killed for. In the heart of the dungeon, I found Bilrach, and we had much to discuss.
I left Daemonheim and walked into a new world, stepping across planes in a single stride. Gielinor melted away around me and I found myself in a world that was both wondrous and alien. It was formed from fire; mutable in state, in countless colours and designs that I lack the words to describe. It was a world of chaos that defied the laws of nature. It was beautiful.
It was at the heart of this world that I first met my lord. He did not command, nor invite. He expected, commanding without a word or gesture, and his presence alone was an instruction that I could not ignore.
He never instructed or taught directly. Following him was difficult, for he crossed the tumultuous terrain with such ease that to keep up exhausted me. He moved through the fire effortlessly, yet it blistered and seared my skin. There were times when I nearly gave up, but I didn't. I persevered; I endured.
That was the lesson.
I learned that life was not about waiting for salvation, or hiding from responsibility behind the edicts of another. It was about what I could take and what I could hold on to. In those months, I found that I could overcome each obstacle he presented to me, and that realisation was intoxicating. With each obstacle removed from my path, I had become stronger in both body and spirit.
He taught me to turn this new-found strength onto the world around me. I was already a gifted sorceress, but he showed me more. He showed me how to mould the fire to suit my needs and how to summon it when I desired its power. Through him I learned that I was worthy; more than that, I knew that he believed everyone to be worthy, if they learned to push themselves hard enough.
We left the world of fire, and we crossed to a new world - young and primal. He took me to a valley and he showed me the newly forming village below. It was filled with tiny people, each of them moving about the place like ants. We watched them for days and each day I noted the same people walked the same paths, the same routes, simply growing older as they performed the same tasks.
Wordlessly he turned to me and gestured to the village and as he did so the very ground tore itself asunder. Fire leaped from beneath the rock and consumed villagers and their homes alike. As soon as the fire started, it was gone, left in its wake was destruction without sense, reason or purpose. At least, I thought so at first.
I confess, in my ignorance I was briefly horrified. Despite my upbringing and my Mahjarrat heritage, the humanity in me screamed that this was wrong; an act of senseless cruelty. I was outraged, but he simply smiled and pointed once more to the village.
As I watched, the people began to move out of their standard patterns, breaking free of monotony and routine. They created a line and passed containers of water from one to another, the last in the line dousing the flames as yet more followed. Leaders sprang up and began to spread order amongst the chaos and healers appeared to tend to the wounded. Suddenly their lives had meaning, and I watched in amazement as they took this tragedy and turned it into the foundation of a stronger society.
Strength in chaos. Finally, I understood.
He showed me countless worlds that all showed the same. Without chaos, life stagnates. People become complacent and do not seek to better themselves. Achievement is defined by overcoming obstacles, and obstacles are only created through chaos and strife; through the unexpected.
I had been so used to thinking of myself as worthless, that I too had grown complacent. I was my father's servant, and knew not how to be otherwise, but now my lord has shown me. Under Lucien's rule I did as I was told; as a spy, or an unwilling jester, but never anything more than a pawn. In Daemonheim I found dangers that I had never anticipated, and power that I had been denied. In short, I encountered chaos and it forged me anew. Under Zamorak's guidance, I was reborn.
My name is Moia, and I was wrong.
I am no servant.
The Book of Zaros[edit | edit source]
From Ayanetka: Archbishop of Senntisten, to the bishops of Zaros,
Conflicting accounts of recent events abound. I am first among all humans in the eyes of our Lord Zaros and witness to these events, and I write to you now with the truth
Zamorak attacked Zaros with a staff stolen from another god, and our lord Zaros vanished into shadow. Zamorak - in the ultimate blasphemy - declared that Zaros was slain and that he was now a god. The usurper's minions defeated Zaros's loyal followers, and now hold the Divine Palace. I write this from the palace of Nex, where she and Azzanadra are even now planning a counter-attack.
Do not believe Zamorak's lies, and do not despair. Remember the way of Zaros and exercise control: first over yourselves, and then over your congregations. Zamorak and his horde have embraced chaos, and those who do so will destroy themselves before long. We must cleave the path of Zaros: control over those below, and deference to those above.
Our god is not dead. He will rule from the Shadow Realm until he returns to destroy the usurper. We are not forsaken. I have no doubt that he will send us a sign.
From Dagroda, Priest-King of Senntisten, to the commanders of the Army of Zaros.
For a hundred generations we have held the Holy City against the armies of the usurper and the other gods. Alone among the armies of this world at war, we fight without the presence of our god, and yet we stand unconquered.
But our city now faces an unprecedented threat. The massed armies of Zamorak and Saradomin approach us at once, each larger than any army the city has repulsed before. Wahisietel's attempts to set the armies against one another have failed.
With a heavy heart, I therefore decree that we are to abandon the Holy City and retreat to the strongholds of Carrallangar, Dareeyak and Ghorrock. This will be a difficult transition, and discipline is essential. The elderly and the infirm will not be able to make the journey north. I authorise you to use all necessary means to control the civilian population.
Remember, our god is not dead, but rules from the Shadow Realm. Senntisten's fall is part of his plan. He has not forsaken us, and will soon send us a sign.
From Lamarinta, Matriarch of Ghorrock, to the people of the Last Enclave.
Rejoice, brothers and sisters! What you have heard is true - Ali the Wise has journeyed from the south to confirm it. The War of the Gods is over. Guthix, God of Balance, has awoken and cast the other gods from Gielinor.
There are now only a hundred of us - harried on every side by the armies of the lesser gods, and forced to keep our faith secret. Despite these things, we have prevailed. The God Wars are over, and there are still those in Gielinor who worship Zaros.
Do you not see? While the other gods exhausted themselves in war and were banished, our lord Zaros bided his time in the Shadow Realm. Now he can emerge to reclaim his kingdom, and we - who have kept the faith - will be lifted to his side!
Rejoice! Our god is coming. We are not forsaken, and I eagerly await his sign.
Private diary of Amelia of Avarrocka, last member of the Esoteric Order of the Empty Lord.
In my life I have taken four apprentices, and each has fallen to violence or disease before taking an apprentice of their own. Now I am confined to my small bed, and I know it will be where I die.
It takes all my will not to fall into despair. Can it really be that I will be the last in a line stretching back to the archbishops of Senntisten?
It can be, and it is. Yet despair is not all I feel, for I have experienced a vision from Zaros:
I saw a throne room, in which there was no direct light; only degrees of shadow. I saw no one in the throne room, and yet I knew it was the seat of a great power. The throne was empty, and yet it was that emptiness that ruled: my god - the Empty Lord.
At last, I understood. When a lord has no servants, he cannot be betrayed. Zaros will return, but he will rule not as a king in a palace, but as the unknown power behind all things. If he needs followers he will choose only a few, powerful beings. He will not need the tiny remnant of his first empire, whose only virtue is having kept faith.
I die in peace. Zaros - in his wisdom - has forsaken me.
The Book of the Godless[edit | edit source]
I noticed the flecks of blood on your last letter. It's always fun to play this game, and I get to uncork my bloodsource potions (not much call for them in sleepy Taverley). The potion's past its best, but I'd hazard a guess that the blood's human, from West Ardougne. Am I right? It would make the score 3-2 to me, I believe.
Anyway, Kara, I have news, some of which you'll have heard.
Guthix is dead, and the other druids are spreading the word to towns and cities. I'm not with them, as I'm leaving the order. It'll come as no surprise to you; I've been thinking about leaving for some time. It rung false: why would Guthix want us to live as equals, if he was above us in every conceivable way - in wisdom, in morals, in power? I always mistrusted him for that.
But Guthix never wanted me - us - to worship him. He wanted to abandon the notion of worship completely, so that he could retire and leave the world to mortals. When Kaqemeex told me that, a fog cleared. Everything I'd thought until then was wrong.
So I've left the druids, Kara. My new address is attached. When you've finished your bloody tour of Kandarin, would you come see me? I have a proposal, and I wonder if you'd be interested in pursuing it.
Yep, you guessed right - she was from West Ardougne. Not sure you get the victory, though, as your details were a little vague. She was middle aged, a Zamorakian spy, and missing an arm when she died.
Sure, I'd heard about Guthix - hard not to. The Zamorakian monks to the west keep claiming the kill, as if they slipped a knife in his side personally. Course, the monks say that with Guthix gone, chaos reigns, the world is Zamorak's etc.
Glad to hear you've moved on from the druids. They were bound to chuck you out for your blood potions and portal magicks, anyhow. I guess you keep your reputation this way - whatever that reputation is. Old, gruff and verging on crazy?
I can't make it to your new address - not for a while, anyway. Do you mind sending me your proposal in a letter? Should be safe as long as you threaten the courier a little. An honest threat dispatches a letter, quick and unread.
I'm developing an entourage - if one person counts. You said I should travel with others, so I'm with a demon called Ux. Don't worry, he's not your traditional horns-and-brimstone type. He's broken from the Demon Pact and plans to take arms against Zaros and Zamorak. Thought that might interest you.
Good grief - a demon? Always wanted to know about the Infernal Dimensions, and how Zaros got them to sign the pact. You have to admire using the demons' love of contracts against them.
I've risked writing my proposal in a letter. It's against my better judgment to send it like this, but the post-boy had an honest face and - once he read your name on the envelope - he knew what would happen if it was waylaid.
So, to my proposal. I apologise for the bombast. It's a fantastic opportunity to be self-important:
'This world - Gielinor - is for mortals. It is not for gods, since they can find no peace with one another, let alone us. Gods bring war, know war, and are war. It is mortals alone that can find peace, as long as they share a common ground, and that common ground is a defence against gods.'
So, I want to gather like-minded people. I want to gather those that have a shred of doubt when they pray; who feel a tug of fear that the gods are returning; who question the right for gods to rule. I want to gather these people and form an alliance, changing the minds of the populace, standing firm and silent against the gods. I want the gods to be faced with a wall of resistance - and I want them to leave.
And I want you to help me do it. What do you think? That sit right with you? I was considering 'The Antitheists' as a name.
That's just about the worst name I've ever heard.
Just call them 'The Godless', for pity's sake. Solid and uncomplicated - nobody's going to misunderstand your aims.
I'll be in Misthalin soon. Heard rumours of a portal in Lumbridge (your doing?), and it gives Ux a headache. I'll be following the crowds, and Ux will be following the headache, probably to carve out the source - as long as it's not you. While he's sniffing about, we should meet.
Your idea lacks conviction. It'll sound weak to people you're addressing, and they won't buy it. Also, why change people's minds when the gods themselves are fallible? Guthix died so we could know the gods are vulnerable. Take advantage of that.
Still, your ideas are progressive - more than most I've heard, anyway. You'll need protection; your potions are nothing more than misdirection, and you need time to work your portals, so my blades are yours. Can't have you getting killed over a revolution, can I?
The Book of V [edit | edit source]
Soon I will return to my homeland. From what I have learned it is more than in need of my guidance. The god wars have begun again and Guthix has fallen. Much as I respect him I now can see that his passive stance has brought nothing but corruption and collapse. I should have returned sooner and persuaded him to turn his powers to heroic endeavour, but I will not be an oathbreaker, not even for that.
From what I can see from this distance, it appears that my world and people face dire threats. Not only has that sanctimonious preacher Saradomin appeared, but some upstart called Sliske has goaded the gods into some sort of grotesque display of force. In addition I can tell a perfect jewel like Gielinor will soon draw the attention of outsiders. That brutal monster, Tuska, will not ignore the prize for long. Nor will the Queen of Ashes waste time recruiting the downtrodden to her infernal cause. I can even feel the tendrils of Xau-Tak have already taken root somewhere on the world. All of these taints will need to be cleansed away!
Before I begin I must set fourth my plan for how to defend my people, and the people of the world.
Firstly, I will need to work on the quality of the mortals available. Even the Fremennik have become indolent and lazy compared to the heroes of old. A return to the old way, coupled with a harsh training regime will soon put a stop to this. The Moon Clan will need to switch from contemplation to warrior magics, as well. I feel confident that many of them will become competent warrior-mages as a result.
Recruitment will not be too much of a problem. I will first start with the goblin races. My personal strength coupled with a mercy they are not used to experiencing will win me many converts. The ogres and trolls may take more work, but I can steer this world's heroes towards eliminating any competition.
As the god wars continue it will not be too hard to find further material for building my army. The dispossessed and vengeful can make a good addition to my forces.
I will also need to form a coalition of lesser gods to oppose the bigger players in this game. This has worked on multiple occassions before and will serve me again. As the higher-tier gods tear themselves apart they will leave chances to strike. I and my companions will take these chances.
To bring these other gods on side I will need to employ trickery and statesmanship. Pulling the forces of a larger god conflict with the reluctant will provide them little opportunity to refuse joining forces with me. By leading from the front I will secure their friendship and trust.
With these two weapons at my disposal I should be able to enact a more fitting version of Guthix's plan. The gods will be swept from the world, sadly including my allies. I will of course need to fake my death at the hands of the last to be destroyed, but my 'death' will fuel my final victory. I will of course need to think of a new version of the 'carry on my legacy, my people' speech.
With luck this will leave behind a world free from gods, filled with heroes unbound by the decadence of the present civilization. This will leave me free to journey elsewhere before my wanderlust becomes too great. Much as I would like to install myself as a permenant resident of my homeworld, this would both go against the spirit of Guthix's ideals and leave many good deeds undone.
By faking my own death I will be free of further requests for aid, other than the most desperate pleas. Returning in a blaze of glory like a risen phoenix appeals to my sense of the dramatic. If I act swiftly enough I may even be able to head off to check the advances of the outer gods.
Update history[edit | edit source]
- patch 17 June 2013 (Update):
- Players can now store book of the gods in a Player Owned House bookcase.
Trivia[edit | edit source]
- The book is currently the longest in the game, with over 6,000 words.
- The book uses the same inventory model as an Ancient book.