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The Legend of Charos- Chapter I- Blood Tithe[edit | edit source]

The Vyrewatch dragged the victims to Lord Drakan. Vladimir, the chief Vyre removed his dagger from his belt and slit the throat of Tharalin Charos, the 15 year old son of Burgh de Rott’s baron, Lord Septimus Charos. Septimus screamed as his son fell dead to the ground. Vladimir caught the young man’s blood in a vial. He handed the Vampyre lord the vial. Drakan smiled as he tasted a drop of the scarlet liquid.

“Young blood is always the best.”

Septimus got to his feet. He wanted to behead the monster, but knew this was folly. Instead, he used his charm. “Why do you do this to your humble servant? There are others in Burgh de Rott to pay the blood tithe.”

Septimus’ charisma worked. “M’lord. Was this a mistake? There are thousands of others. What do we do?”, the Vyrewatch asked.

Lord Draken laughed. “Your charms do not work on me. But, I will make you an offer. The village of Canifis has fallen victim to a curse. Pretend to be my ambassador, and find out more about the curse. I am learned in the art of Necromancy. Be my diplomat and spy,and I will bring your son back to life.”

Charos thought it might be a trick, but knew Drakan would kill him if he declined.

“I accept.”

To be continued…

The Legend of Charos- Chapter II- The Ring of Charos[edit | edit source]

Septimus Charos took the ancient ring out of his small teak chest. This was the signet ring that belonged to the Charos family. It was crafted by the ancient race of Morytania, the ;Icyene. It was made of an arcane metel that had long been forgotten to even the wisest of men. It was reddish gold in colour, and was engraved with the ;crest of Charos, originally a symbol of ;Hallowvale. Charos handed the ring to Chernobog, Drakan’s personal sorcerer.


Chernobog grinned, his rotting fangs reeking of human blood. “We were a captain in, what thou callest the ;God Wars.Zamorak himself taughteth us this most useful magick. Thou might callest it mind control. When one is weak-minded, their mind shalt be clouded by shadow. This magick can only be cast on an item Thy ring will suffice. ”


Chernobog chanted a spell in an evil tongue. The ring began to suck in the surrounding shadows. When it was finished, the ring seemed to glow. Charos took the ring, and slipped it onto his middle finger. It felt warm. It was seductive. Chernobog saw Charos eyes turn black. His plan was falling into place.

To be continued…


The Legend of Charos- Chapter III- The Plague of Mort’ton[edit | edit source]

[edit | edit source]

Septimus Charos jumped onto his horse, Nightstar. He rode out of the Charos manor stables. The horse trotted down the path, out of Burgh de Rott. Septimus looked past the slums at the surrounding areas. To the east, over the treetops stood the Barrows of six ancient warriors. He and the others would set up camp in an abandoned village at the base of the tombs.


Two hours later, Charos rode into the nearby hamlet of Mort’ton. Green mist hung over the huts. The citizens wore rags, and most seemed to have pale skin covered with blisters.

Some acted feral, frothing at the mouth.


Out of the mist walked one man. He had a ragged beard, and wore a dirty apron. He looked pathetic, but Charos saw he was not affected. “I am Herbi Flax, the apothecary of Mort’ton. You must leave this place. The plague and the Shades-“

Herbi’s words were drown by a screeching. Shadows on the ground started to form a human shape. A Fiyr Shade, the elite of wraiths.


Charos pulled his longsword from his scabbard and stabbed at the shade. The sword made a gash in the Shade. It swung his claws at Septimus, knocking him from his horse.


Chernobog pulled several runes from his pouch. The earth, air and chaos runes melted in the vampyre’s hand as the white energy crackled in his hand. He hurled the magic at the Shade. It screeched in pain.


Herbi pulled a potion from his apron and flung it at the Fiyr. It howled as the liquid seared it’s flesh. Light erupted from the Shade. It screamed, and was gone.


Herbi yelled to the party. “Claim sanctuary in the ! The god of Fire’s is to the north. Quick!”


Charos jumped back on the horse. The party kicked their mounts forward, and they charged towards the temple.


To Be Continued…

The Legend of Charos- Chapter IV- The Fires of Flamtaer[edit | edit source]

The horses charged northward. The Afflicted citizens and Loar Shades occasionally would attack them, but the party arrived at the temple unharmed. Two priests shut the doors behind the party. The priests wore red robes, not the blood red of Zamorak, but the colour of fire. All the priests held staffs. Charos thought this odd. Usually only abbots had staffs or croiziers. Then he discovered why. The priest’s eye were milky white. They were blind. 


 

Charos announced “We claim sanctuary from the Shades.”

 

The High Priest felt his way to the men. “Welcome to the house of Flamtaer, Lord of Fire, King of Gielinor. Our Most Holy Lord demands a sacrifice of all his subjects. Your sacrifice will grant you safety from the Shades.”

           

Chernobog barred his fangs. “I only bow to Zamorak.”

 

The High Priest laughed. “Then you shall be fed to the furnace.”

 

All of the priests lifted Chernobog and threw the Vampyre in a door at the back of the temple. Charos let the power of his ring cloud the mind of the High Priest. “Let us see the furnace ofFlamtaer.”

 

He beckoned to the door. “Of course. Flamtaer himself will greet you.”

 

Charos headed into the room, feeling Flamtaer’s heat.

 

Syzgy[edit | edit source]

I have had problems with my laptop; so unfortunately, Chapter V will not be ready in time. It should be in next issue, in the meantime I have written this. Enjoy!


It was almost time. The stars were aligned, and the Mahjarrat waited for the eclipse. Lamistard was trapped with unbreakable bonds of Shadow Magicks. He was weak for a Mahjarrat, but still had great power. His captor, Zemouregal paced as he waited in anticipation, but everyone else stood still. A hooded creature sat on a dark throne and watched his minions.

Everything went dark as the moon passed over the sun. Zemouregal released the bonds of Lamistard. The hunt had begun. Zemouregal swung his sword at the legs of the victim. Lamistard howled as black blood trickled from the gaping wound. The Mahjarrat rushed towards him, like vultures toward a jackal’s corpse. Lucien stood besides the stone altar and waited for them to have their fun.

Soon, Hazeel dragged Lamistard’s half-dead body towards the altar and bowed towards the seated figure. Lucien took out a curved dagger.

“Dost thou have any last words?” asked Lucien.

“Aye, I do indeed Lucien, you oath-breaker. Thou knowest that ye be a traitor. Zaros may have fallen to you and Zamorak’s wicked scheme. But I say this unto thee. Zaros will return and he shall bring a terrible vengeance.”

With this, Lucien plunged the dagger in Lamistard’s heart. A green smoke came from Lamistard’s nostrils and entered every Mahjarrat’s mouth. They felt their strength returning. Their gaunt bodies began to grow to their natural forms. Lucien felt young again. He felt more alive than ever before, but he also felt something else. Was it fear of the Empty Lord’s return? No. It was confidence. When the time was right, he would make his move. He would overthrow Zamorak.


To Be Continued…