User:Billy Bomb7/Sandbox

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Stories to be Edited[edit | edit source]

For Who Am I?[edit | edit source]

“My plan is working, it will all be over soon,” thought the Mahjarrat. He stood up and walked to the flap of his tent. With his left hand he folded it open and walked to Lucien and Zemourgal. The Mahjarrat spoke to Lucien, “Has Lenissa arrived with It yet?” Lucien stood up and looked at his master, “No, she hasn’t we’re expecting her to be here in a few hours.” The Mahjarrat smiled, “Good, then the assault will be the day after she arrives with it.” Zemourgal looked up, “Wait! We’re doing it tomorrow? That’s too soon, not everyone has agreed to help us. There’s still Azzandra, Akthanakos and -” The Mahjarrat cut him off, “Don’t worry my friend, we will not need their help in the attack, with the power of the item that Lenissa is bringing, I will be able to take down our Lord with no effort.” Zemourgal looked at the ground, “I’m sorry master, for who am I to question your power.” The Mahjarrat looked at Lucien, “Lucien!” he stood at attention, “Yes sir!” he responded. The Mahjarrat yelled at Lucien, “Go alert Viggora and the others that we will be attacking tomorrow!” “Right away sir!” Lucien turned and ran, muttering something under his breath.

The Mahjarrat awoke to the sound of clapping over his head. He lifted his eyelids open and stared at the face of Viggora. “What do you want Viggora, if you woke me over something stupid I promise your dea-” Viggora cut him off, “Sir, the weapon has arrived, Lenissa got here about an hour ago, and Dhalak confirmed it’s what we want.” The Mahjarrat stood up and clapped his hands in excitement, “This is good news Viggora!” He looked outside of his tent, night was coming upon them. The Mahjarrat turned to Viggora, “Tell everyone there’s been a change of plans. We’re attacking by nightfall.” Viggora smiled, “You can never fight soon enough can you master?” The Mahjarrat chuckled, “No I guess I can’t.” The Mahjarrat moved to put on his armour, and Viggora left the tent, going to alert the troops. The Mahjarrat looked into a mirror, he saw a being, wearing blood red armour, and a helm made from a demon's head. He picked up his axe from the ground and put it through a leather loop on his back.

Lucien cursed as he tripped in the grass, “Why must we attack so soon? Is our master trying to get us killed?” he thought. “I could do a better job leading everyone.” Lucien stood up and ran to catch up with the group, their Lord’s castle was visible over the next hill, and they would be there in minutes. Zemourgal was planting seeds into the ground as they ran, slowly an army of his undead minions rose up behind the group. The Mahjarrat leader turned to Zemourgal, Zemourgal looked back and stated, “Incase we need help, you can never get too much help!” The Mahjarrat grinned and moved towards the castle, Dhallak came forwards from the centre of the group and cast a large fire spell on the doors, they were instantly incenerated, and the stones around them had melted. The Mahjarrat took a couple steps forward and peered into the hallway, then turned to face his troops. He then pulled out a staff from his bag, “With this!” he yelled, “I can take control from our Lord and lead our people to glory!” His miniature army cheered and followed him as he ran into the castle.

The Mahjarrat led his troops through the hallways towards the throne room, along the way they overwhelmed the guards with their sheer numbers before any alarms were triggered. After several minutes of navigating the maze-like castle they arrived at the solid runite throne room doors, guarding them were two incredibly tall demons. As the miniature army was twenty metres away, both demons stood ready, their halberds held in offensive position. Suddenly before the demon on the right could react, the demon on the left killed his companion with a blow to the throat. The remaining demon guard bowed to the Mahjarrat and opened the doors. Inside the room were thirteen dimly lit braziers, the flames casting just enough light to keep the throne in shadows. There was a deep, booming laugh emanating from it that sent a chill down the spines of the rebels.

The being stood up, drawing in a slow, deep breath as he did so. As he drew in more air, the braziers flames grew larger, and the shadows seemed to surround his body. Once he stood at full height he clasped his hands together and with a smile he stated, “Now we all know why you’re here. Who are you to think you can dethrone me, Lord of this realm and all of its inhabitants?” With those words he separated his hands and a magnificently crafted blade appeared, it was over six metres long, smoke wafted from the blade, which was serrated, as if it craved for blood. The Mahjarrat’s mind was racing, “How did he know we were coming? I had this planned out perfectly!”

The shadowed being swung his sword at the Mahjarrat’s army, the blade froze those it came in contact with, almost half of the Mahjrrat's forces were frozen. The Mahjarrat jumped back and swore. He looked to his right and saw his lord attacking him directly. The Mahjarrat pulled the staff from his side and pointed it at his master. The Mahjarrat’s lord faltered in his pace for a moment as he saw what his subordinate was holding. “So you’ve managed to obtain the Staff of Armadyl? It has eluded my grasp for far too long. I appreciate you bring it to me. Besides, I doubt you even know how to use it.” The Mahjarrat smiled, “Then you’re wrong.” He gripped the base of the staff with both of his hands and fired a bolt of concentrated energy. The being braced his arms as the bolt collided into him. He suddenly fell to the ground, “The spell is increasing gravity!” he thought, he watched items cluster around him until there was a small sphere surround him. The Mahjarrat was panting, the spell had used a lot of his energy, and he turned to see what his army was doing.

Zemourgal swore as a Dragon Rider ordered his dragon to burn his zombies to a crisp. He rushed forward and threw a bone seed into the dragon’s mouth. He then jumped over the dragon and killed his rider. As he landed the dragon had been transformed into one of Zemourgal’s zombie slaves, and its rider was hanging limply on top. A few metres to Zemourgal’s left Viggora was fighting hand to hand with a giant stone warrior. The warrior swung his blade and Viggora caught it between his hands. For a few seconds they stood there, locked in a battle of strength. Viggora’s face turned red as he twisted the stone blade and it snapped and fell to the ground with a loud boom. Lucien fired a blast of concentrated ice from his palm, freezing another statue instantly. He walked up to it, smiled and placed his hand on its stomach. He laughed and said, “You lose pal,” and pushed it towards the ground, it exploded as it crashed into the floor.

The Mahjarrat looked away from his units, and back at the sphere. It was pulsating, and smoke was emanating from it. “Oh come on,” he said as the ball exploded, it sent debris in all directions, killing several people. The being stood up, ichor was dripping from his forehead. He turned to the Mahjarrat. He yelled with ferocity, “This has gone on for too long!” He then pulled back his left arm and blurred out of sight. The Mahjarrat was frightened, he could be instantly killed at any moment when his master chose to strike. Before he could blink his master reappeared in front of him and grabbed him by his throat. He could feel the blood being sucked from his body through his neck. Desperately he threw the Staff of Armadyl at his master.

The Mahjarrat watched the staff helplessly fall to the left his master. He panicked and thought to himself, “For who am I to challenge the gods? For who am I to attack a god?” The gods grip tightened around his neck, and thoughts were racing through his head. He formulated a plan and fumbled in his rune pouch for a law and several air runes. “I hope this works,” he thought. He proceeded to cast a simple tele-grab spell on the staff. It lurched towards him and his master, the tip of it pierced through his masters back. As it punctured him, he could feel his grip loosening. The Mahjarrat took this to his advantage and fired a spell behind him which exploded against the wall. The explosion knocked both of them towards the ground. “Pain!” was the only thought in his mind as he felt the staff erupt out of his back. Blood poured onto the ground as he and his master lay on the floor dying.

Zemourgal watched in horror as the Mahjarrat slowly died. He started running towards him to help, but Lucien stopped him. Zemourgal let out a cry of protest but Lucien held his ground, “This is his fight my cousin, we let him see it through, whether he is to win or lose.” Zemourgal nodded slowly and returned to the battle ensuing behind them. As they finished off the remainder of the enemy troops Viggora, Lucien, Zemourgal and the others walked to the bodies of their fallen leaders.

Lucien noticed something was different, the corpse of the Mahjarrat had become more vibrant, as if it was full of life. As for their previous master, his body was disappearing, as if fading from the world. A voice rang around the chamber, “You fools! Do you realize what you have done? Destroying my body will be the worst mistake you will ever make. Any who aided in my downfall shall be cursed to forever walk these lands in unending existence.” As the words slowly disappeared from the room they noticed their leaders body slump to the floor, the god’s had disappeared. Viggora walked to his side, “He’s breathing, and he seems to have a steady pulse.” Zemourgal and Lucien helped lift him to his feet. “You did it.” Zemourgal said with a smile. “That I did.” The Mahjarrat sighed and watched the gaping hole in his stomach seal up as Zemourgal healed him.

The Mahjarrat slowly walked around to survey who had died and who had survived. He stopped as he turned over the body of a fellow Mahjarrat. “I questioned myself several times during the fight. Who am I to fight a god? Who am I to think of winning? Who am I to think of rebellion? What will my followers think of me should I live.” The surviving members of his army watched quietly, “I shall tell you who I am.” There was cheering as he said this. “I am rebellion, I am hope for our people, I am Chaos. I am Zamorak, killer of gods and new lord of Zaros' regime.” His troops roared as their new lord, Lord Zamorak sat on Zaros’ throne.