31st of Pentember, Year 169 of the Fifth Age
Approximately 15 minutes after the Interrogation
* * * * *
The farmer lay hunched in a corner, surrounded by his family. He had been beaten and tortured in all of the worst ways possible, yet his captors were not done with him. His family tried to comfort him and his wounds.
“Someone will come save us daddy,” coaxed his daughter. “Saradomin will send someone to rescue us.”
“Honey, these are White Knights,” the father lamented. “They serve Saradomin, but they're not on our side.” The cold, damp walls of the cell made him shiver as he stared at the wall. “I just don't know what to do. The group I would turn to for protection as become my enemy.”
“Maybe Arrav will save us Daddy.”
“Laura, Arrav is long dead. No one will be able to save us.”
“Woe, oh woe is me. I should have never helped them.” Out of the shadows came a crone, her crackly voice piercing the ears of the captive family.
“What, what do you want?” the farmer stammered.
“I have come to undo a wrong I have done,” declared the witch. “I thought that this would've brought good, but it has only resulted in bad. There will be worse to come in the future as well. I will try to reverse it now by letting you go, but I fear it is too late.”
“You're setting us free?!” the girl asked eagerly.
“Hush child, but yes. Quickly and quietly you must get away from here before your fate worsens.” The witch took hold of the lock and cast a few spells, after a few seconds, the lock disintegrated. The hag swung the door open as the family zipped out into the hallway. “These knights are smart, but their magic is so weak compared to my dark magic. Hehehe. But take haste and leave now or the fate they accuse you of will come true.”
The farmer looked at the witch oddly, and then dashed down the hallway with his family before being stopped once more. “Wait woman, there is something you must hear!” The witch drew close to the woman holding her child and whispered some words in her ear. The woman nodded and witch turned back down the hall.
“What was that about? What did she tell you?” asked the farmer.
“She said that our son is...” the woman paused briefly, “... is going to be a strong warrior some day.” The man smiled, took his wife's hand, and proceeded down the corridor, picking up a sword that was lying around. As they moved, they heard sounds of other knights coming from a different hallway.
“Dad, what do we do now?” asked the girl. The dad glanced around the hallway. There was nowhere to run, and the only room other than a cell was what appeared to be some sort of closet or storeroom.
“Quick, in here!” commanded the father as he opened the door. He burst into the room only to be met by the same knight that had tortured him. He was holding a lantern in the dimly lit storeroom, filled with barrels and crates.
“What are you doing here?! Guards! Guards! The prisoners are escaping!”
“Yaahhh!!” shouted the farmer as he swung ferociously at the knight. Taken by surprise, Sir Ren Itchood drew his arm back quickly and accidentally let go of the lantern. The lighting device flew backward, hit a barrel, burst open, and lit another on barrel on fire. The fire quickly spread amongst the warehouse, letting it all ablaze. The knight and farmer stared at the burning boxes and then looked at each other.
“This... this is your fault!!” the knight shouted as he threw a small tablet on the ground. The tablet burst and the knight teleported away. The farmer and his family looked at the blaze in horror. The farmer managed to shout out a few words to his wife before the barrels blew.
* * * * *
Sir Tiffy Cashien was sitting on his usual park bench, sipping tea while watching the birds in the park. He began to close his eyes to take a nap when a strong blast jolted him out of his bench. He stood up, brushed the dust off him, and turned around to see what the wreckage of Falador Castle was now. What was left of the monumental structure was ablaze, though half of the castle had fallen into the moat. There was a gaping hole in the land around the castle. Citizens ran in panic while guards ran to alert other guards and attempt to put out the flames.
“Oh dear,” gasped Sir Tiffy. “This cannot be good.” He picked up the broken pieces of his tea cup, sighed, and dropped them before running off to find help.
* * * * *
The blast had killed several soldiers and severely injured a few Temple Knights, but miraculously two people closest to the blast had somehow survived. The farmer's wife clung to her son who was crying very loudly. He had not been injured, but the loud blast had frightened him. Yet more frightened was his mother, who had lost a daughter and a husband while sustaining grave wounds herself. She managed to climb out of the moat and collapse onto the wet ground.
“Hey you! What are you doing there?” A Falador guard had taken noticed and began to run up to the poor woman.
“Oh no! Help me please! Someone help me!” the woman cried, tears streaming down her face. As if on cue, a blue-green portal opened up and out stepped a cloaked man wearing flowing, midnight black robes. He pointed his staff at the man and shouted.
“Senventior Disthine Molenko!” The guard disappeared in a cloud of purple smoke. The robed man then turned toward the woman, now very afraid. “I'm here to help, but I don't think this is the best place for you to be right now.” He then cast a spell which teleported man, woman, and child away from the burning castle.
