The Wanderings of Guthix
The pain was intense. The wars had destroyed him. He was healed in body, but annihilated in mind. He had watched as his family was killed. He killed a god, and wounded another. The war of the gods had left him scarred beyond reason. And yet, he felt powerful. Had the gods’ powers been given to him? He glanced down at Skargaroth’s, no, his sword. The sword glowed gently, giving off a comforting light. He fought the urge to throw it away, down into the depths of the plane of the Naragi. Only one thing stopped him, his sense of duty and life. He was the only one he trusted with this power, and therefore he kept the sword. Anyone who found it could wreak untold destruction.
He wandered the plane, seeing the painful reminders of the war that had torn his life apart. Everywhere, he saw devastation and death. He needed to leave, to grieve in peace without having fresh wounds ripped open again and again. And so, he thought, and through the power of his will, became the most peaceful thing he could, a butterfly. He flew higher and higher, out of the air of the Naragi, and into another. He wandered the planes for untold centuries, meeting their inhabitants; goblins, elves, and men. He also saw that his was not the only world to have been destroyed in the gods’ quest for power. He vowed to never be involved in the affairs of mortals. As he wandered, he came to a place untouched, with lush forests, mountain ranges that stretched for hundreds of miles. The land was beautiful, and a place to live out his days.
“Gielinor,” he whispered, naming the plane “The Place of Beauty” in the tongue of the Naragi. The Naragi, like all races, had their legends. The legends told of a place that the old gods created that was perfect in every way. And truly, the Elder Gods had done so. He felt an ancient power calling to him, buried deep beneath the ground. He turned into water, and seeped down, down to the stone. Its power was immense. He could rule all the planes with it.
“No, I must not. I will not bring suffering upon those without the means to defend themselves. Instead, I shall provide the means for the world to defend itself.”
He touched the stone, feeling the power flowing through him. It blazed with the intensity of a thousand stars. He shaped the land, creating temples to the elements, to the minds and bodies of the inhabitants, and to the raw power of chaos, death and blood. Lastly, he created a temple to the plane itself. Realizing that the soul of the land had not yet been defended, he created the runestones that held the soul of the land, and himself as well.
“I have forever bound myself to this land. I shall never leave,” he vowed, knowing that the defense of this plane rested on him alone. To save the forests, mountains, and the animals, he would need to deeply ingrain himself within the land, growing, until he tied his power with the land, and his destiny was forever bound with the plane he named Gielinor.
Through the years, he discovered other artifacts that enhanced his power. A horn, which he dubbed the Horn of the Wild, aided him in communicating with the life of Gielinor. The Staff, he hid, seeing no use other than power. He realized that, though he was powerful, if he was killed, the plane would go to another, possibly less ethical god. With the help of the stone, he created the Anima Mundi, a spirit of the plane. He cut himself from the plane, and tuned his senses to listen to the spirit, to know if anything was out of place. He decided to still join with the wild, to gain the family he never had.
As he joined the population of the plane, he found a series of elder trees, scattered around the world. To these trees, he gave the power of mental thought, and shared with them the series of events that he had been through. And for a long time, Guthix himself became accustomed to the slow, sure speech of the trees. He had been in Gielinor for ages, allowing himself to forget the past events of his life. He slowed his life down, matching the trees’ speech and actions. He sank into a stupor that would last for years.