|TRYING SOMETHING NEW|
(Good day to you. This is Alex 43. Since the start of this month, Manya had been missing, along with our boat, so we were stranded for a few days until Dex removed the ocean and we walked to dry land. Just recently, I had received a tar-covered letter from him with a lot of nearly illegible scribbles. Fortunately, with all of us working on it for several days, we were able to decipher everything and piece it together to form a rather interesting story. It might be true, it might not be, but we aren’t worried about Manya, so we’ll instead just wait for him to return. After reading this ourselves, we can only come to the conclusion that for the next few months, Manya is going to be interviewing Runescape creatures that were thought to never exist and getting information from them about the many mysteries of Runescape. Anyways, here’s the letter, and have a very Merry Christmas from all of us here at the Saradomin Warriors Church.)
|TRYING SOMETHING NEW|
Hey there, this is Manya. For this article, I’ve decided to do something different then usual. Instead of reporting strange, un-noticed events that usually involve either a death, explosion, or Dex in a bad mood *Shudders*, I have instead decided to explore Runescape quite thoroughly for the month, meet with several different species and entities, and basically (and casually) ask about a number of different secrets that nobody knows or even cares about. With me, I took a notebook and pen, and was able to write down a journal, housing a number of interesting facts (I will automatically assume that everything I spoke to has told me the truth) about a number of general facts to do with Runescape and our realm compared to the 6 others.
This is my story.
I started my adventure better then I expected. Jacking our only boat, accidently crashing it into the Port Khazard Swordsmith Workshop, and leaving Alex, Gia, and Dex stranded on the SWC island was a better start then I had anticipated. In a nutshell, I survived, and that, to me, is pretty amazing. Especially since I was really aiming for Murphy’s trawler.
I went straight west from the coastline, continuing west until I could no longer continue, to which I take a step south and repeat step one. Sounded like a great idea at the time, because that way I would be randomly exploring.
Now I am lost. Totally great idea. I found some dwellberries on the way, so I ate them. Had to run for half an hour from the farmer who was growing them, but I got away. Got a pitchfork while I was at it, too.
I am now waist-deep in the western tar-pit, out in the middle of nowhere with no one even aware of where and who I am. Yeah, I’m gonna die, aren’t I?
Once my head submerges, I’m going to hold my breath for as long as I can and move frantically about in hopes that I would get sucked into an under-tar stream and carried out to safety. Seems like the best option for me right now.
Had beans for dinner, or at least I think they were. I couldn’t tell because there was tar all over the can.
Still under-tar at the moment. I finally hit the ground, so I sought out my notebook and started writing facts. This is basically what I got.
– There IS a bottom to the tar pools.
– It is very difficult holding your breath under-tar.
– It is very difficult holding your breath for 3 days.
– It is very VERY difficult holding your breath for three days under-tar.
– It looks very black down here.
Anyways, I didn’t have any dinner today, as my stomach is collapsed on itself. How I’m even still alive right now is a mystery. I’m getting bored with dying, so I’m feeling around for under-tar tunnels or something that will hopefully take me to the surface or something so I can stop. Not much of an adventure, really, if I’m spending a fraction of it down here.
Finally got out of the tar pit. I located a tunnel with lots of suction and it carried me all around in several directions before spouting me out in an underground cavern. Since I was no longer sub-merged in tar, I took the opportunity to wash my clothes and self in the swamp water. Better it then tar.
Something’s in the cave here with me as well, so I’m not going to linger around very long. It’s incredibly dark, and since I can smell gas in the caves, I’m somewhat uneasy about lighting a candle.
I’ll add a few more things to the notebook for reference when I escape:
– Beans in tar tastes horrible.
– Cantelope in tar tastes horrible.
– Pineapple-chese pizza in tar tastes horrible.
– Frying potatoes in tar is a tad on the tricky side, but with a little effort, it is doable.
– Fried potatoes in tar taste horrible.
– Rocks coming at you at 40 MPH can cause major head injuries.
– I am physically allergic to tar.
I have to go now. Something that feels like it’s 20 tons is nibbling on my backpack.
Day 13 … or 14, I can no longer tell:
I am officially lost in this cave. The air is incredibly stale, and I have a feeling that I’m only going towards this source of natural cave gas. I’ve learned of a number of methods to find my way out of caves in my travels, but none of them would help me in this situation, as none of these conditions are fulfilled no matter where I go: I added them to my notebook should I die here and some other person becomes lost:
– If you feel a gust of wind, head towards where it’s coming from.
– If you see a stream of water, follow it backwards to lead you to an outdoor source, as you’ll know you’re heading upwards.
– If you see some light, go towards it unless it has a compelling, orange-red tint to it.
– Go where the smell of natural gas smells fainter.
– If you’re really lost, touch the right wall and just keep going with your hand never leaving the surface.
The reason I can’t follow that last one is because, well, I don’t exactly have “hands”. There, a little something to reveal me. Go celebrate or something.
I finally got the rest of the tar off of me, and my clothes are now probably dyed black. I can’t tell. I can’t see. I can’t even find a wall, just a bunch of stalagmites.
I get very nervous when I eat, because every time I take something out to swallow, I get that ominous feeling of being watched, so I’ve greatly rationed myself. Sorry for all the illegible scribbles. It really is dark in here.
I’ve confirmed it. Something’s in the cave with me. It heard a loud long belch, and after several hours of hypothesizing and coming to the conclusion it wasn’t me, I used my expertise in common sense to determine it was something else, as shown:
– If you hear a belch, and it doesn’t sound like yours, then it is very likely it was something else.
– If said belch does not make your head vibrate, but instead everything else, then it is quite likely it was something else.
– If the belch sound came at you from an angle, then it is very likely it was something else.
– If, after the belch came out, you smell something immediately after that smells comparatively unpleasant to all the unpleasant smells you’ve ever smelt, then it was definitely something else.
– If the belch knocks down a number of stalactites causing a number of collisions of rock as well as a number of landslides, most of them in your own general vicinity, then you can assume (and brag) it was PROBABLY you.
That belch made me feel hungry, so I think I’ll eat something. Don’t see anything wrong with it. Usually they emanate because the user is full, so I can assume I’m safe.
Contact! How I wish it was with the surface, but no! Two large, slowing, red eyes opened at me in the darkness and I ran. I think I lost it, so I’m taking a few seconds to write this down.
I don’t think I’ve ever been more exhilarated in my life. Being chased by something that weighs nearly 20 tons in a pitch-black cave with hardly any walls and several pools of slimy water all around, to which I just discovered recently the hard way.
Again, I apologize for the illegibility, because I’ve added the aspect of speed and franticness to my writing. Combined with the aspect of being unable to see or feel whether or not this is the correct end of my pen, I must imagine that it has some sort of negative effect to my already-sloppy writing.
All this chasing as really made me hungry. I think I’ll just take a bite of-
(Following this was a number of frantic, illegible scribbles that were impossible to decipher. We did pull out one word from the jumble, but felt it was entirely coincidental, as it sounded like something Swedish.)
Guess what was in the cave with me. A dragon! A DRAGON dragon! A dragon made out of … dragon. Yeah. Is it tooth, or bone, or scales? I don’t know, but the stuff was red, shiny, dense, and looked like evil. Its eyes were glowing, so I was finally able to see something.
After it feasted on the rest of my provisions and apologized, saying that it hadn’t eaten in nearly 50 000 years and mistook me for something remotely edible, I accepted its apology and asked it a number of interview questions. I have disclosed them with a letter to the SWC because Postie Pete just happened to come here after a teleport malfunction. Needless to say, I don’t think Pete’ll stick around very long. Already he’s shaking with impatience for me to finish this letter and hand it to him so he can teleport back.
See you guys soon, and sorry for leaving you guys stranded like that. Expect company in the next little while, Gia.
Manya: How did you survive without eating for so long?
DD: Sleep. Stop growing. No grow, belly stay full. Make breath smell bad, though.
Manya: Yeah. I thought it was natural gas at first.
DD: Sorry, probably was.
Manya: Let’s not talk about that now. So, you’re scales are actually made of dragon, huh?
DD: That right. Scales we fashion ourselves, make us tough.
Manya: What exactly IS dragon armor? Just a type of metal or something?
DD: Actually no. Dragon armor is red stuff that comes from stomach. It superheated by our stomachs and if we feeling ill, we let it out. Usually lava when it comes out.
Manya: So, what you’re saying is … dragon armor and material is dragon barf?
DD: Yeah, you can say that.
Manya: Thank goodness I never use the material.
DD: It little embarrassing to have to use material to cover myself with.
Manya: Why? Aren’t metal dragons just born like that?
DD: No, metal dragons not always metal dragons. We like dragonkin dogs, long time ago. Elite soldiers for the war. Big fights. Very fun.
Manya: So they made you armor and you’ve been wearing it ever since?
DD: Hah, I do wish. But no. After fights over, white dragon mountain sunk into earth, and dragonkin extinct, Zaros look at us and call some of us pathetic. Says we no good, no help to the fight. We argue back, saying we were positioned as guards by dragonkin. Doing what we told to do. Zaros still in bad mood, so he remove enchantment from us.
DD: He shave off all our scales. Made us naked and vulnerable. Other dragons laugh at us, so we run and hide.
Manya: Ouch. I think I know how you feel.
DD: Yes, you indeed odd creature. So we get angry at Zaros. Decide that Gods are for the weak, that we can take care of ourselves. So we make our own scales from the metal in the caves we hide in.
Manya: And this is what you’ve been doing ever since?
DD: Sort of. Metal dust gets into our food when we eat or something, as we also cover our mouths with it. Newborns start automatically having metal scales. Become race of metal dragons.
Manya: And you’re one of these.
DD: Great grandparents parents lost their armor. Big disappointment for each other. Puke on themselves as makeshift armor scales. I born a dragon dragon.
Manya: So that’s why dragon is not very valuable in the other worlds. Because it’s nothing but dragon vomit. Just ask a dragon to puke and free dragon plate mail for you.
DD: Yeah. It not even very strong. Just look cool, so users feel more confident and hit harder and take more hitting. Not the dragons doing.
Manya: Good to know. I’ve always been curious about that.
DD: Well, now you know.
Manya: Are there any runite dragons out there, by any chance?
DD: Oh yes. Lots. They live in clouds.
DD: Yes. It perfect. They hide in clouds, same color as sky, and catch birds when they don’t see them.
Manya: How can they actually “live” in clouds?
DD: They very light and thin. Almost wyvern like. I not like them. Too civilized.
Manya: Ah, I guess that makes sense. I was always curious as to why my bird snares keep on falling.
DD: Yeah. Dead bird, easy kill. They take advantage.
Manya: How do you know all this? How long have you been down here?
DD: Oh, several thousand years. Got stuck in tar pit, held breath for days. Very difficult. Before, though, I know lots. I was dragon scholar.
Manya: Neat. I’ll bet you know a whole lot about the history of dragons.
DD: Not just dragons. Of other creatures. Gods too.
Manya: What God do you worship.
DD: None. Like I said, Gods for the weak. Zaros humiliate us, big disappointment. We no worship Empty Lord or anyone no more. We believe in ourselves. Stronger then any dragon!
Manya: What about the KBD?
DD: … the what?
Manya: The King Black Dragon?
DD: … the who?
Manya: The King of Black Dragons?
DD: King? I didn’t know they had a king. I thought they extinct. Metal too brittle.
Manya: Metal? … ooh, I see. Black metal dragons. No, I mean the black scaled one.
DD: … the what?
Manya: Zamorak took over the rest of the dragons and gave them scales of various different colors. The toughest are the black dragons, and the toughest of them is a three-headed dragon called the King Black Dragon.
DD: Did not know that. I’ve been here too long. Must get out of cave and see world.
Manya: Mmm. I suppose introducing Saradomin in your live is out of the question, then, since you don’t worship Gods?.
DD: Eh, Saradomin not bad. Made White Dragons happy. None complained. None humiliated.
Manya: Indeed. They had a major civilization going on and were close to converting everything to the Holy Lord’s way before Zaros got ticked and nearly sacrificed every bit of power he had to wipe them all out.
DD: Yeah. Used to like white dragons. Wanted to be one. They have crystal scales. Look splendid. Better then vomit-scales. Shame they all dead before I born. Parents told me stories about them.
Manya: Actually, there is one still alive.
DD: Really? White Dragon? Alive? Stand on hind legs? Breath lightning?
Manya: Yeah. One of my friends at the SWC. He was a soldier back in his time, hundreds of thousands of years ago.
DD: I MUST see him! I have many questions! He will have answers! At last, undying curiosity brought to rest! Tell me where he is!
Manya: Um … he’s outside the cave, on an island in the middle of the ocean. Just look for the tall, glowing, star-like object on an island with a house.
DD: Then go there I will … as soon as I find way out of here.
Manya: … you’re lost too?
DD: Yes. Have been for many years. Too risky to move. Hardly any food in my belly until now.
Manya: I miss my broccoli soup.
DD: So come. Must find exit. Get out of cave! see world for first time in millennia.
Manya: Ok, just a sec. I need to write down something first.
DD: Write? Writing for the weak. Dragons have good memory. Remember and teach stuff, not write.
Manya: Yeah, well, I’m not exactly a dragon, am I?
DD: No, you not … what exactly ARE you?
Manya: You don’t want to know. Trust me.