RuneScape:Wiki Post/Fan fiction/Black and White

'''Prologue: '''

It was a time of darkness.

A time of chaos.

A time of destruction.

Of death.

The world needed a hero.

A hero that could put an end to the suffering and pain and bring peace and order to the kingdom.

The White Knights of Falador sought a mighty warrior a versatile ranger a wise sage or a charismatic, cunning leader.

They found him.

When all seemed lost, when the black knights were about to take over all of Asgarnia, they finally found him.

His name was Marcus Fletcher.

'''Chapter 1: '''

Marcus Fletcher (called Mark by friends) wasn’t a combatant of any sort. Nor a leader whose rhetorical abilities could solve any argument. Mark Fletcher was an ordinary man with an ordinary job, who lived as ordinary a life as possible when a never-ending war is raging. He was named Fletcher, and that was also his trade. He supplied half of Asgarnia with his arrows, which were commonly considered best in the world. It is true that they were considerably lighter than other arrows, which made them much deadlier against no wind, and they were made by the hands of a true skill master. When Mark started shaping the arrows, his well-trained hands were moving with speed quicker than the regular human eye can see. He was therefore semi-wealthy, and could afford a stone house, firewood for all of winter, and one day-off each week. He had no family, but a fiancé named Regina. He was currently saving money for the wedding that would take place next year on the 20th of Pentember. The day of his wedding, he would turn 46, and Regina would celebrate her 34th birthday exactly a month and a day after. Regina was a kind-hearted woman, pretty, but not too beautiful. She often donated to the Falador burial charity to honor the deceased warriors. The pair, Mark and Regina, looked perfect together. Both had rather darker skin, dark, almond-shaped eyes and brown hair. Mark always wore short hair and no beard; Regina liked her hair a foot long and always had it loose. The man’s hands were thick and bumpy; the woman’s tender and small. Mark was a little plump, sturdy and low in height; Regina was tall, skinny (but not thin) and looked like the slightest breeze could blow her away. Mark was like a rock; Regina like a feather. Mark had many friends, but no close ones. He had more free time than was common those times, so he spent it in the bar talking to strangers and making friends of all sorts. He knew all the merchants and workers of Falador, lots of the guards and even a few goblins and White Knights. He had a reputation of a good, peaceful man, who minds his own business and wishes to die of age, after a life of no excitement. History would never remember him, nor his story, if it would come to this.

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'''Chapter 2: '''

The sun shone brightly upon the waking city of Falador, a few of its residents rushing to their workshops, most still in bed. Janar, the Elder of the city, watching the scene from a tower in the White Knight castle, sighed “If only this tranquil scene were a harbinger of better times.” It was true, that for the people of Falador, war was still something far away, and they all acted as if it was just some quarrel of little children. The “elite” class (White Knights, royalty, mages, higher guards etc.) was fully aware of the many losses of lives, battles and land to the Black Knights and Dark Warriors. One defeat after another followed by the retreat of the army and the destruction of another village, that was commonplace these days. After the loss of the 3 month long Rimmington battle and half of the troops, the White Knights had no luck at all. Their sieges on the southern fortresses were all unsuccessful, the secret assault plans all revealed. There was more traitors in the army than loyal soldiers by now, and many women were widowed. The enemy was also on the move from the north, where the Fortress still stands, and goblins also joined the fray, attacking trade caravans from Falador and cutting it off from the rest of the world. General Giron was mortally wounded and most of the other officers were dead. The city was still doing OK on food, but would run out in three years’ time at this rate. The sense of doom was so tense that the people started to subliminally understand that they were losing. “If they know already, we might as well officially inform them of the situation and get them to expend exceptional military effort”, Janar thought. But he also understood that it would just prolong they’re suffering. “Bah”, he thought, “If we’re going to lose, we’ll at least write down our names to history. Black Knights, be prepared!”

*** 

The sun shone brightly upon the city of Falador at the same time a week later, but nothing was the same. “Hear ye! Hear ye!” cried the herald on the Falador main square, hundreds of people surrounding him. “Under the decree of King Kaldan, all men must join the military training camp in the Southern Forest by tomorrow. All women must work exclusively for military purposes, taking on the trades of men. All children are to enter The Academy, for boys to learn the art of war and the girls the military skills. It is hereby forbidden to leave the Falador walls or go out after sunset. Drinking is prohibited during these dangerous times. Any criminal deed will be punished and criminals; murderers and pranksters alike will be hung. Discipline is essential, so disobedience in the city will be referred to as a crime, in the army, the soldier will be sent to fight to his death. If our current situation doesn’t get better, it won’t be just the people of Falador who pay the highest price. The destiny of Asgarnia lies in your hands, and every deed makes a difference. Saradomin, protect us!” As he finished his monologue, the cities were already filling with mourning. Women started to hug their men frantically, as if already widows. Children started crying, as if already orphans. Baker and fisher; woodcutter and coal miner; postman and guard dog; merchant, worker and craftsman threw aside their differences and united in knowledge that they’ll all die soon anyway. The lives of thousands of Faladorians have changed today. Janar, the Elder, watching the scene from the tower, sighed. Nothing has changed for him that day.