RuneScape:Wiki Post/Fan fiction/Rise of Zaros

After researching the Mahjarrats' extensive history, I have written up a sequel to the Arrival of the Mahjarrat. Again, it is mostly imagination. It is also quite a bit longer than my previous story, so sit back and enjoy!

— Tienjt0

Rise of Zaros
After Icthlarin led the Mahjarrat to Gielinor, he employed them to protect the southeast lands from invaders. For years the Mahjarrat were successful. The capital city of Ullek saw enormous prosperity as travellers, attracted by the land, climate, and trade, settled around the area. Bordered by islands to the east and mainland Gielinor to the west, the city became an important center of commerce. Under the Mahjarrats' protection, Ullek would soon become one of the largest and wealthiest human civilizations in Gielinor.

The Mahjarrat, however, were still unsatisfied. The large bands of humans that occasionally attacked Ullek posed no challenge to them. Those who survived spread stories of the Mahjarrat and their incredible powers until it became common knowledge that Ullek was utterly indomitable. Although the peace did not suit their warlike ways, the Mahjarrat followed Azzanadra's advice and waited. The time eventually came when the Mahjarrat, never truly bound by their oaths, switched allegiances — and changed the world forever.

***

Icthlarin watched helplessly as his sister Amascut plodded back and forth across the palace room. Although she was the goddess of rebirth, she looked nothing like the beautiful woman she used to be. Her white robes were specked with dirt, her once lustrous red hair dull and disheveled. Breaths came in quick, abnormal gasps, as if she was struggling for air.

For perhaps the hundredth time, Icthlarin asked, "What is wrong, sister?"

"I have already told you, brother," said Amascut hoarsely. She continued her mindless course around the room, staring at the floor. "Those… those monsters you brought with you here. They have corrupted me."

Icthlarin shook his head. "Nonsense. I am still fine, and so is everyone else." "Nonsense?" she cackled. Halting abruptly, Amascut pointed at her brother, a wild gleam in her bloodshot eyes. "You know you are not fine. Ever since they came, our people have been frightened… including you, and you know it! I have watched you talk to them, shaking ever so slightly from their presence, your words carefully constructed to avoid angering them. They are far too unreal… too powerful… too different."

Amascut approached Icthlarin, who could not help but take a step back. Ignoring his nervous movement, she kneeled in front of her brother and looked up at him pleadingly. "They enjoy death and destruction, which goes against what we stand for. We honor the dead and assist them in their journeys to the afterlife. We balance out our parents, who create life. You know this, brother. Please… send the monsters away." Icthlarin sighed and took her hand to help her up. Amascut was right; although he had bound the Mahjarrat to his rule, he was still afraid of them. However, they had proven to be fine soldiers who were more than capable of defending Ullek and the surrounding area, and he could not afford to give them up.

"Sister, I understand your predicament," he murmured, "but you have to see the other side as well. Because of the Mahjarrat, this land has experienced growth like never before. They are our allies, not our enemies, so we do not need to fear them." "But you do fear them!" cried Amascut. She shook herself from Icthlarin's hands. "Did I not say that already? You fear them! They are a taint on our world, a swarm of flies feasting on the flesh of our land. You have seen how eagerly they rush into battle. That is all they live for. Our human soldiers can do the job without completely destroying the battlefield with cursed magic."

"I cannot send them back, sister. They are —"

"They are what?" shrieked Amascut. "Too important? Too valuable?" She spun around angrily and strode toward the door. "Very well, brother… they will stay. I thought you had some sense, but I was wrong. One day I shall have my vengeance," she said through clenched teeth before storming out of the room.

Icthlarin stood there for a moment, an unfathomable expression on his face, before exiting the palace room after his sister.

From behind an open window, a hooded figure pondered what he had just heard. Turning around, he clasped his hands together in preparation to teleport, but his attention wavered as he looked up at the palace of Ullek. No such works of architecture existed in Freneskae, which explained why the gleaming marble structure, with its domes and arches, had caught his eye many times. Although they kept it to themselves, the ability to construct buildings of such impressive grandeur was one of the few things the Mahjarrat admired about humans. Silently berating himself for staring at the palace all the time, he disappeared amidst the shadows.

***

Dusk had fallen in Ullek, painting streaks of deep red and orange across the darkening sky. Southeast of the palace, on top of a large plateau, the Mahjarrat sat in a perfect circle with their legs crossed and eyes dimmed. This was routine for them; back in Freneskae, they would practice their indigenous form of meditation every day. Here in this strange realm, they had decided to meditate in the evenings because no other time of day resembled the dark atmosphere of their homeland.

Silence reigned. The Mahjarrat never breathed during meditation, which always lasted for twenty minutes. By doing this, they placed themselves in a state of near-unconsciousness to prevent their massive pools of power from overloading their bodies. The only thing that moved was the night breeze, rustling the Mahjarrats' robes ever so slightly.

At precisely the twentieth minute, the Mahjarrat opened their eyes. To a human observer, it looked as if a multitude of different-colored orbs had suddenly flared to life out of nowhere. They pulsated irregularly, gradually slowing down to steady, strong glows that illuminated the area with an eerie light.

As the meditation ended and the murmur of conversation began, Sliske hurried over to Azzanadra, who had stood up and was adjusting his cloak. "Azzanadra, I bear news from the palace."

"Enlighten me, my friend," said Azzanadra with a small nod.

Sliske grinned. "It seems that our mere company has warped Icthlarin's ssssister. She wishes him to send us away, but he refuses to do so. The girl dislikes us so much that she plans to have her revenge on her brother for making us sssstay here."

Azzanadra grunted, a sign that he was in deep thought. "That is most intriguing… but why him? If we are the cause of her loathing, why did she choose to target her brother? He is responsible for our presence here, yes… but directing her vengeance at him, instead of us, seems futile. Unless —"

Before Azzanadra could finish his sentence, the sound of a horn resounded from the palace, followed by a faint shout that no one but the Mahjarrat could hear from such a distance.

"An army approaches from the north," murmured Azzanadra, surprised. The last time the Mahjarrat had participated in any fighting was nearly a fortnight ago. Clearly the army now marching toward Ullek had not heard the tales about the unconquerable city. The Mahjarrat were far from skeptical though; many had already gathered near the rim of the plateau, eagerly awaiting bloodshed.

"We shall talk later,” said Azzanadra. “For now, we have business to attend to." He faced the direction of the palace and broke into a sprint, seemingly gliding over the ground with graceful strides. "Why linger?" he called to the Mahjarrat assembled near the rim. "Let us go to battle!"

With a powerful kick off the edge of the plateau, Azzanadra soared into the sky, his arms outstretched and sleeves billowing. Behind him, the rest of the Mahjarrat lunged into the air in clusters, like bats flying out of their cave in search of insects. Drifting silently through the darkening sky, the Mahjarrat scanned the horizon with their keen eyesight for signs of the approaching army. They were not actually flying, but using magic to keep themselves up.

Up ahead, Azzanadra had spotted a group of Ullekian soldiers standing on the northern portion of the massive stone wall surrounding the city. He slowly released the magic and descended, landing on the ramparts with a soft thud. The soldiers jumped and spun around, but relaxed when they recognized the Mahjarrat. "Oho, there ye are!" said a tall man with long black hair whom Azzanadra recognized as Falgenor, the general of Ullek's military force. "Would'ja mind lookin' o'er there an' tellin' me what kinda soldiers they got?" he asked in a strong accent, pointing to the vast plain to the north. "I can't see 'em, jus' look like a smudge o' black ter me."

Azzanadra peered at the tiny figures in the distance. "I see humans… "

"Ah, jus' another o' them bandit troops," sighed Falgenor in relief.

"… as well as strange humans with white skin and sharp claws, flying humans holding deadly spears, red monsters armed with tooth and horn, great winged beasts as black as night, fiends of fire and ice, amongst other creatures," finished Azzanadra. Even before he was done, he had noticed the looks of pure terror on the soldiers' faces. He had also retrieved the names of the creatures from their minds.

Shaking visibly, Falgenor asked, "How many of 'em?"

Azzanandra did a quick estimate. "I would say about ten thousand."

"Oh gods," whispered the general. "We got at most three thousan'."

"They do not look very strong. We can defeat them."

Falgenor shook his head weakly. "Ye haven't heard o' the Empty Lord Zaros, have ye?"

"I have not." This was a deceptive answer though, as Azzanadra had gleaned some details from Falgenor's mind.

"Oh, trus' me, ye don't wanna," said Falgenor quickly. He shivered. "One thing ye should know though… he's a god, one o' the mos' powerful there ever was. When he wants ter take someplace, he takes it, mark my word for it. An' that means we're done for… unless ye can stop' him an' his vampyres and demons."

"Oh, trust me," said Azzanadra, a hint of steel in his voice, "we intend to stop them. It cannot be any more difficult than slaying a Muspah."

Falgenor had no clue what a Muspah was, but he did not ask about it. "If ye say so. I know yer strong, but the Empty Lord is somethin' ter be reckoned with. You and yer buddies go on ter meet 'em, then. Our forces got yer backs." He muttered something to the other soldiers, and they hurried off.

Azzanadra shook his head, smiling. No number of humans could ever aid the Mahjarrat, especially at night when they were incapable of seeing their hands in front of their faces! He turned his attention to the plain again; the army had moved closer. We must meet the opposition, thought Azzanadra, projecting his mind to the other Mahjarrat. Join me at the base of the north wall. Then, in a feat that no human would dare to accomplish, he jumped over the parapet and to the ground fifty feet below.

Even with the weight of his armor, he landed lightly, as if he had fallen only a few feet. Around him, the rest of the Mahjarrat materialized in clouds of smoke, and together they strode toward the approaching army.

"I was informed that our adversaries tonight are quite powerful," said Azzanadra as they walked. "Especially the one who leads them. He is supposedly the most powerful god in existence."

One of the Mahjarrat sniggered. "They said Icthlarin was powerful, but is he? Bah! All Gielinorian gods are weak."

"You are one to talk, Lucien," replied Azzanadra, which prompted raucous laughter from the others.

Lucien scowled. "Just you wait. I am frail compared to you, but one day I shall become stronger than each one of you."

"May that day come soon."

By then, the rest of the Mahjarrat had seen the creatures in the front ranks of the army and were curious about them. "What manner of beasts are they?" they asked Azzanadra.

"Demons, nechryael, bloodveld, elemental fiends, vampyres, vyrewatch, and humans," answered Azzanadra. "Many possess special abilities that render them difficult to kill. For example, vampyres can only be killed with silver weapons, but that will not be a problem for us. Ah, this shall be a fine battle."

In front of them, the army had halted. Likewise, Azzanadra stopped and quickly gave commands to the other Mahjarrat. "Sliske and Hazeel, stand behind me. Zemouregal, Akthanakos, and Wahisietel. Behind them." In a matter of seconds, all the Mahjarrat were arranged in a triangle formation.

A distance of approximately one hundred feet separated the two groups: a small force of fourscore facing an army ten thousand strong. As they waited for the other to make the first move, the Mahjarrat took the opportunity to delve into their opponents' collective consciousnesses. The vampyres and vyrewatch were intelligent, having the power of speech and thought. However, the other minions were simply beasts, gifted with keen senses but unable to feel or perceive emotions such as mercy or cruelty. They lived only to kill in the name of their lord.

Finally, a single vampyre stepped out from the front line and shuffled toward the Mahjarrat. He stopped less than halfway across, keeping as far away from them as possible. With a hiss more prominent than Sliske's, he rasped, "On behalf of our generous master, the all-mighty Lord Zarossss, I offer you three choicesss tonight. Firssst, you may surrender your weaponsss and join ussss. We shall welcome you with open armsss, and you may assist ussss in our conquessst. Second, you may simply step asssside, and we shall not harm you if you do not harm ussss. And lassstly, should you choose to stand and defy ussss… we shall kill you."

Azzanadra tilted his head in amusement, his eyes glowing with bloodlust. "Lord Zaros is indeed generous. The first option is appealing, but we are not here for that. Perhaps another time. Instead, tell your lord that we will stand and defy him, crush his army like dry twigs, and use them to light our victory bonfire tonight!"

The vampyre flinched visibly. No one had dared threaten the Empty Lord in such a manner. "Very well, you have chosen your fate. Let it be known that Lord Zarossss, although graciousss in termsss, is not merciful in combat…"

Azzanadra had heard enough of the vampyre's drivel. Without warning, Azzanadra vanished from his position at the head of the Mahjarrat and reappeared almost instantly in front of the vampyre. Before the vampyre could react, Azzanadra drew a long, red sword and drove it through the vampyre's neck.

This ignited the fury of Zaros's army. With a thunderous roar, the first few ranks, consisting of vampyres and humans, charged at the Mahjarrat.

Stepping on the vampyre's body, Azzanadra wrenched his sword out and left the vampyre to writhe in pain. He relaxed his arms, a cloud of purple light appearing around his fingers as he channeled his power to his open palms. With a lazy flick of his wrist, he launched a stream of icy particles at the charging figures. It dissipated over their heads like snow and froze them in place. A few seconds passed as they struggled to break free from their glacial prisons. Then, with an earsplitting crack, an invisible force pushed their heads back and a vast fountain of blood spurt from their open mouths, clouding the dark sky with crimson mist. The Mahjarrat did not allow Zaros's army to charge a second time. Without any sign of communication, each Mahjarrat teleported to a different spot in the ranks of Zaros' army. It was a deadly maneuver; the creatures, caught by surprise, were helpless against the surprise onslaught. The Mahjarrat swung their swords in wide arcs, drawing patterns in the air as they cut down their enemies with powerful, precise blows. They presented a haunting, almost graceful display of combat. In merely twelve minutes, the Mahjarrat had already decimated more than half of the army. Every vampyre, human, and fiend had been slain or critically injured — only the demons and vyrewatch remained. A large black demon stormed toward Azzanadra, who had just slain a bloodveld. Although the demon towered above him, the Mahjarrat stood his ground. He lifted his arms slowly, drawing the remaining energy from the dying vampyres around him and concentrating it into one massive sphere of purple energy. It smote the massive beast in the chest, threw it off its feet, and sent it skidding across the blood-drenched ground to collide with a group of nechryael standing behind it. Nearby, Sliske was being circled by four abyssal demons. Fast as an arrow, he lunged at one with his sword, but it disappeared and teleported a few feet away. The other three demons also avoided Sliske in this manner, clicking their appendages and darting rapidly around him. "You want to play?" whispered Sliske, grinning. In a breathtaking move, he stood on one foot and spun in place, swinging the sword in a clockwise motion so quickly that the four demons faded away simultaneously to escape the attack. In the blink of an eye, Sliske melted into the ground and caught the demons as they reappeared, consuming them with shadow magic. At the far end of the ranks, seven vyrewatch looked on as the Mahjarrat hunted what remained of Zaros's minions. Realizing that the battle had been lost, they prepared to flee back north. However, when they turned around, they saw their path blocked by a Mahjarrat. Zemouregal glared at them menacingly. "So, where are we headed off to?" One of the vyrewatch snarled. "Out of the way, or we'll stick you with our spears." Shrugging, Zemouregal stepped aside and lowered his head. "Well, eleven to none is hardly fair. Go on. I will not tell anyone." The vyrewatch glanced at Zemouregal suspiciously as they passed. The Mahjarrat seemed to be muttering something under his breath. Then he looked up, a strange glint in his eyes. "Sleep well," he said, walking away as the vyrewatch collapsed and gurgled behind him, poisoned by his spell. Azzanadra, who had watched the scene, clapped Zemouregal on the back. "Good work. That was the last of them." Together, they surveyed the corpse-ridden battlefield as the rest of the Mahjarrat made their way toward them, hacking at any creature that showed signs of life. The Mahjarrat had suffered no casualties and little injuries, which they easily healed by dimming their eyes and entering a brief state of sleep. "That was indeed a fine battle!" exclaimed Hazeel. "We annihilated them!" The Mahjarrat cheered boisterously. Azzanadra smiled and said, "I'm sure Zaros will be glad to hear of his defeat. Or perhaps he witnessed his defeat with his own eyes. I am not sure if he was present in the battle though." "Perhaps we mistook him for a demon and slew him," suggested the camel-headed Mahjarrat named Akthanakos. "Perhaps, perhaps," mused Azzanadra. "Well, it is too late now to ponder over such things. Let us return to the palace."

As the Mahjarrat started on their way, they sensed something behind them. Turning around, they saw a lone figure standing amidst the carnage, his hands clasped behind his back. He wore a hooded robe that concealed his face, similar to the appearance of many of the Mahjarrat. A strange, circular symbol glowed on the front of his robe top — a symbol that Azzanadra recognized from the minds of Falgenor and his men.

"Well done," said the Empty Lord Zaros. His voice was deep and powerful.

Azzanadra looked at Zaros in disdain. "You could not hope to defeat us with such weak followers. Lucien was correct… all Gielinorian gods are indeed powerless."

Zaros chuckled. "Oh, but I am not powerless, and neither are my followers. You are simply too strong. You even practice a rough form of the Ancient Magicks, which I thought was my invention. From which realm do you come from?" His question came abruptly, implying that he was already aware of the Mahjarrats' otherworldly origin.

"That is no business of yourssss," hissed Sliske.

Zaros looked at Sliske, amused. "You speak very much like a vampyre." When Sliske remained silent, the god unclasped his hands and drifted toward the Mahjarrat. They stared at Zaros disbelievingly. Now that he was closer, they sensed something coming from him that they did not expect — power. Power greater than that of Icthlarin, Amascut, even their own god in Freneskae. Power so great that the Mahjarrat were forced to mentally lift it to prevent the burden from stifling their minds.

Realizing the truth of Falgenor's words, Azzanadra bowed his head. "If you wield so much power… why so few followers?"

"Ha!" Zaros laughed. "You defeated just a fraction of my force. There is no reason to transport my whole army across the desert to conquer a single city."

"If you had, you may have succeeded."

"You think so?" asked Zaros. He leaned closely, speaking in a low voice. "Hear me out. I offered you a place in my army, and that offer still stands. With strength like yours, you will surely climb up the ranks of my army swiftly. I have endeavored to extend my power by conquest, while the young fool you follow is content to sit on his throne and wait to be conquered. Join me, and you can forever experience warfare because our ambition is not to be subjugated, but to subjugate."

Azzanadra immediately knew that Zaros understood them, and by reaching his mind out to the other Mahjarrat, they knew as well. In his mind, he saw a fleeting image of Icthlarin in front of him, binding the Mahjarrat with the Oath of Obedience — the most unwise move he had ever seen. But after all, he had lived most of his life among his fellow Mahjarrat, not humans.

"We accept your offer… my lord." ''Sorry, Icthlarin. Help your sister.''

Zaros beamed. "Very good. Now, if you will come with me. We have much to talk about." He turned and drifted north, where his vast kingdom lay somewhere beyond the horizon. After a moment's hesitation, the Mahjarrat followed him, their binds unshackled. They had waited, and now it was time to forge a new path for themselves.

There was a small rumble as the gates of Ullek slid open, followed by Falgenor's voice: "Oho there, we're comin' ter help ye!" The soldiers filed out, waving their weapons and torches enthusiastically. Upon seeing the destruction left by the Mahjarrat, they stopped in their tracks, openmouthed. Falgenor squinted as he scanned the wasteland. Was he imagining it, or could he see a swarm of colorful fireflies in the distance?

Did you like this story? Loved it! It was okay. No.