RuneScape:Wiki Post/Fan fiction/Arrival of the Mahjarrat

I present to you a story about how Icthlarin escorted the Mahjarrat to Gielinor. This is obviously just a work of imagination since there are no details about their arrival from Freneskae to Gielinor, so don't be disappointed if the real details don't match mine.

Arrival of the Mahjarrat
Within the depths of the Void, far beyond the realm of Gielinor, lay a plane known as Freneskae. Shrouded in smog, Freneskae was dominated by endless war and brutality. A number of races lived there, fighting amongst each other not for power or resources, but because of instinct. None of these races, however, were as mighty as the Mahjarrat.

Ruled by the Creator-God, the Mahjarrat reveled in the bloodshed and dangers of the black wilderness which they called home. It could be said that the constant conflict in Freneskae existed solely because of their presence. Nearly immortal, each one possessed the strength of ten men and battled with prowess unmatched by any living being. They were warriors, shapeshifters, and powerful spellcasters.

Over time, the Mahjarrat grew restless. Potential opponents were diminishing, and days could go by without any battles. The Creator-God soon realized this. He offered the Mahjarrats’ services to other planes in the Void. Soon, a desert deity from Gielinor accepted his offer and decided to visit Freneskae to escort the Mahjarrat to Gielinor.

They were coming. The Faceless Ones… the Stern Judges… the Mahjarrat. They were coming!

***

Such a barren place.

Icthlarin, a demigod of the Menaphite Pantheon, sighed as he stood atop a large boulder in the middle of nowhere. The wind howled around him but he remained still, resting his hands on the head of a gold scepter standing upright in front of him. Like all deities, Icthlarin could alter his appearance at will. Today he had assumed his usual appearance of a human with the head of a jackal. His chest was bare, but he wore a yellow kilt with blue stripes. From his neck hung an intricately designed amulet given to him by his father, the god Tumeken. A soft light emanated from his body like the glow from a burning candle, shielding him from the lash of the savage winds.

They had told him to meet them here. But where were they? Looking around, he saw nothing but swirling smog and an expanse of empty earth. The rock he stood on was the only landmark for miles around as far as he could tell.

The sound of faint footsteps caught Icthlarin’s attention. His long ears flicked in anticipation and he turned his head toward the direction of the sound. He sucked in his breath. Back in Gielinor he had guided dead souls and ghastly spirits to the afterlife, but the figure approaching him now was much different. He — for Icthlarin could somehow sense that it was male — resembled a lich or skeleton with a purple gem on his forehead. His cape flapped wildly around his body, which was concealed by burnished purple armor. Even from his position on top of the rock, Icthlarin could feel the aura of power that exuded from the skeletal figure. Icthlarin jumped to the ground, landing on light feet. "Greetings. I am Icthlarin, the Protector of Souls." The Mahjarrat bowed. He was tall with glowing red eyes which seemed to follow Icthlarin even as he lowered his skull in greeting. "I am called Azzanadra." His voice was soft but clearly audible over the wind. "Are you the one who will be escorting us to… Gillner?" "Gielinor," corrected Icthlarin, nodding. "A world much different from yours, I must say. Where are the others?" Azzanadra’s red eyes twinkled. "They are already here. Sliske, in fact, was right next to you the moment you entered Freneskae." Surprised, Icthlarin looked around again and saw no one. He resisted the temptation to reach his hand out to feel if someone was there, invisible. "I have not seen nor heard anyone around me. Do you have the power of —" "Invisibility?" interrupted Azzanadra. "Not quite. None of us have that power, but Sliske is so skillful that he may very well possess it." He gazed meaningfully at Icthlarin‘s feet. Icthlarin looked down and saw his shadow. Almost of their own accord, his eyes flicked toward the ground beneath Azzanadra. He had no shadow. Then in another act of impulse, he glanced upward. No sun. At that moment, Icthlarin’s shadow disappeared, and the demigod met his second Mahjarrat. A full head shorter than Azzanadra, Sliske wore dark robes and a hood that concealed his face. However, Icthlarin knew that despite his size, Sliske was probably a very potent Mahjarrat; if he had the ability to disguise himself as someone’s shadow — especially a god’s shadow — without being detected, who knew what else he was capable of? Icthlarin hid his apprehension with a smile. "That was a nice bit of work there. How did you do it?" A forked tongue snaked out from the depths of Sliske’s hood as he replied, "We can turn into almost anything we want." As he said that, he spread his arms, hissed, and transformed into an identical version of Icthlarin. "But only Sliske can imitate a shadow and move in sync with its source," laughed Azzanadra. "His shapeshifting abilities are among the strongest of our kind." They watched in amusement as Sliske, who had turned into Icthlarin’s sceptre, wobbled around in an attempt to stay upright. He gave up and converted himself back to his original form. "You said the othersss had already arrived, Azzanadra?" "Indeed." Azzanadra flourished his hand in a strange salute. Almost instantly, a host of Mahjarrat appeared: some from the sky, others from the ground. A number of them seemed to simply materialize from the smog. Most of them looked similar to Azzanadra, but a few seemed to have taken other forms; Icthlarin noticed one in particular who resembled a clothed camel standing on its hind legs. The Mahjarrat, fourscore in all, turned and looked at Icthlarin. They presented an intimidating sight with their billowing robes and glowing eyes. He shivered at the huge amount of energy he sensed coming from them. These are creatures of great power, he thought. He started as several of them nodded, as if they had read his mind, and then cleared his throat and addressed them: "It is my pleasure to transport such an able-bodied race to Gielinor. With your strength, we can build an empire beyond imagination. You will be my greatest warriors, defending your land against invaders and fighting for your leader." At the word "fighting," the Mahjarrat looked at each other, grinning. "Even as we speak," Icthlarin continued, "lands are being conquered and battles waged. Gielinor is still young, as the great Guthix discovered it only an age earlier, and there are many areas of land yet to be claimed. However, we are not interested in conquering; we only wish to defend our own land, which spans the majority of southeast Gielinor. "Currently, we rule over a group of desert dwellers known as the Menaphite. However, they are only human and cannot resist the multitude of superior beings employed by opposing gods. We need strong soldiers who can protect us… but they must also be willing to obey orders. Will you, as warriors following their god, agree to be bound by an Oath of Obedience before entering Gielinor?" Although Icthlarin did not know, the Mahjarrat had already started discussing the Oath amongst themselves. Obey him? He does not deserve our obedience! growled a Mahjarrat named Zemouregal, projecting his thoughts to the others. I smell his fear. He knows we are more powerful than him. I say we kill him once we go through, said Palkeera, a female Mahjarrat. Several Mahjarrat expressed their approval at her statement. The rest shook their heads, including Sliske, who hissed, Imbecilesssss! Azzanadra sighed. Unfortunately not all Mahjarrat were the greatest of thinkers. ''Fellow Mahjarrat, we know little about the realm thus far, and yet you plan to take action as soon as you enter? Do not underestimate Icthlarin. This is not his native realm, so he may wield much greater power in Gielinor than here in Freneskae. When we go through, we must wait. We must observe. When the time comes… we can take matters in our own hands.'' The Mahjarrat chuckled. They could not argue with Azzanadra’s wisdom. When the time comes, they agreed. I must say, Azzanadra added, that Icthlarin is a fool for thinking he can bind us to his command. This elicited chuckles from the assembled Mahjarrat. Icthlarin had guessed that the Mahjarrat were talking — or however they were communicating — to each other and was waiting patiently for their answer. When Azzanadra stepped forward, Icthlarin looked at him expectantly. "We agree to be bound by the Oath of Obedience," said Azzanadra. "Very well," replied Icthlarin. He held his scepter vertically with both hands and muttered a short incantation. "You are bound to me. And now…" The demigod turned around and moved his scepter in a circle with his outstretched hand. For a brief moment the circle appeared, as if he had outlined it on the very fabric of the air. Light blazed around it, shimmering so brightly that the onlookers were forced to shield their eyes. "Welcome…" Then the light faded, leaving behind a round rift through which green grass and trees could be seen. "…to Gielinor."

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