Rosaline's Records is a collection of Rosaline Haines' personal journal entries, notes, and observations. Most notable among them are her thoughts and opinions of the beings and places she's encountered throughout her life, as well as her own experiences with them. Listed alphabetically, the subject matter for each entry follows a chronological order, starting with the earliest date recorded and ending with the latest.

Records Edit

So, I was guided to one of the elves here—had a red rabbit hare shoulder emblem (Heaven Hefin clan)—after asking about my headaches, and she told me I should try writing down my thoughts to "clear my mind" and "work out the struggles within myself". She also encouraged I attend one of her sermons with the kids. I left quickly after that, although I suppose her words did the trick since I'm doing exactly what she advised. It can't be too bad, right?


I guess I should catalogue all the magical junk I've come across in my travels.

Anima Power StationEdit

Year 4 of the Sixth Age

The anima power station is not an artefact per se but the intended birthplace for what will be an army to bring down a kingdom (technically, those are the actual artefacts). Clerk's eager to move forward and has already built upon his initial designs. I've already gone ahead and checked my family's estate. It will in fact work as the building site; the detonation from the divine bomb appeared to have left a scar in the world, much like the spot where Bandos was killed by Armadyl's superweapon, and is exactly what we need to make this whole thing a reality.

I'm well aware my actions could be seen as detrimental to the godless cause or even treason. But I will prove to the First Commander and anyone else how the order can be so much more. This is only the beginning.

So much for bringing down a kingdom. Since I haven't heard anything from the coalition I'll go ahead and assume the worst (such a waste of golem!). But at least I still have an army. I have no doubt that these animated warriors will be well worth the effort of putting them together. In the end, that's all that matters.

I have seen to the construction of an additional power station farther afield. This one will be for my own personal use unlike the other. I aim to take advantage of the madness that will surely follow Sliske's grand finale... if we are all still breathing the day after that is.

Status: Operational and under my supervision.

Anima SpearEdit

Year 3 of the Sixth Age

What can I say? I stole borrowed one of the anima spears from the Godless' stock and used it against Yokrad. With it I delivered the killing blow and nearly became a goddess myself. I still have it... the spearhead at least. It looks good on the mantelpiece.

Year 4 of the Sixth Age

So I finally confessed about stealing the anima spear to the First Commander Mark. He took it well enough, but chastised me for not telling him sooner. The spears are dangerous in the wrong hands... even more so in the right ones. I made my concerns clear to him. We'll just have to wait and see what happens in the fight against Mephiles. I pray we don't switch out one evil for another.

Stolen taken lost alongside my son

Status: Shaft split and in pieces; spearhead survives and presumably in Mephiles Sol's possession.

Burning EmbersEdit

Year 4 of the Sixth Age

I'm not sure what to make of this mysterious substance. Ever-burning and sought after by an emissary of the Queen of Ashes whom the Godless know very little about. I never had the chance to meet this Fallen Nihil, but more gods are not what Gielinor needs right now. It's strange though. I feel like I know this power from somewhere...

Status: Samples taken and in my possession.

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Communication DeviceEdit

Year 4 of the Sixth Age

I was given this by Small Boss (an alias; real name unknown at this time). I'm familiar with the design, although whoever made them did some upgrading over the years. Maybe Clerk can disassemble this one and make more after studying its parts. Our agents afield could use these over the clunky orbs the order has them use now.

Status: Operational and in my possession.

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Year 3 of the Sixth Age

Demonsbreath is a magical accelerant made from materials native to the Infernal Dimensions (or so I'm told). Gephis'vros prides himself as creating the demonic concoction himself, although I'm not entirely convinced. However, it doesn't really matter whether I believe him or not, so long as he continues brewing the substance for me. It's incredibly flammable from what I've seen and lives up to its namesake. I have little doubt that a market for the stuff exists somewhere. I can't trust that the demon won't somehow use this against me in the future, but for now I need gold and selling barrels of this crap to the highest bidder gets me just that.

Gephis'vros approached me about a collaboration with Kudret Tezri. Between us he says we could distribute demonsbreath farther afield and make nearly three times as much gold as he and I do now. I'm hesitant to bring Kudret into all this, but his connections with the grey economy are a widely spread rumour among his other wives and senior slaves. I'll need to consider this.

Kudret's agreed to the arrangement. He provides us contacts and receives a pinch of the profits in return. So far he's shown a surprisingly calm approach toward associating with Gephis'vros. Perhaps the two have more in common than I was led to believe.

After several weeks and too many clandestine gatherings, I've finally given the go ahead to restore my family's old estate. It should provide us enough storage space for Gephis'vros estimated projections. I've already gone through the appropriate channels and paid off the right people to keep the restoration quiet. No need for any of my parents' old friends to try and visit. They would likely blow themselves up.

While Gephis'vros is handling the shipping of the demonsbreath (smuggling it with the workers' equipment for the project was my idea) I've got Kudret meeting with Varrock's estate agent to discuss financial matters. Another boring meeting I won't be sad to miss. Besides, someone has to watch the kids.

That son of a hellspawn! Gephis'vros was playing me the whole time. I'm lucky to have survived Arachnea; my soul would be his had I not (the kids' as well). I knew to expect something like this—Ptolemos disliked demons as much as vampyres—but this? Now it's personal.

Gephis'vros is beaten, soulless and stuck in the void. I've taken his demonsbreath for myself, and my kids are safe. It's nice to win for a change.

Despite Gephis'vros' betrayal my supply of demonsbreath remains mostly intact. Sales continue to rise but I've been gradually easing it off the market. The Godless might have use of it after all.

Rumours suggest something big's approaching us. Maybe we could blow it up before it gets here.

Demonsbreath does not work against a space boar. Have to reconsider my approach... perhaps something more concentrated.


Status: Reserves depleted, distributed, and/or destroyed.


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Year 3 of the Sixth Age

Ptolemos' Mahjarratbane was the pinnacle of his lifetime achievements... or so I was told. I died for the stupid trinket, but he cared for it more than anything else in the world—it was the key to his success after all—and who wouldn't want an enchanted Mahjarrat-slaying dagger? I knew its importance to my master and so poured every ounce of my strength into protecting it once I had been brought back from the dead. If I'd known then how much of a target it put on both our backs... Things only got worse with the Mahjarratbane. It attracted too much attention to us, especially among the Mahjarrat (no surprise concerning its nature). Outnumbered and outmanoeuvred, we were both defeated and nearly became a stain on some cave floor.

I was lucky and got out alive, a slightly damaged Mahjarratbane in tow, and like a good little minion I assembled an order of my master's soldiers to await his return. I never had to use the Mahjarratbane once during that time. Eventually I tossed it. Turns out it was instrumental in returning Ptolemos to life or something (go figure). So it went until he got himself killed by a dragonkin whereupon the Mahjarratbane became a beacon of sorts for his spirit. I found it and Ptolemos, and then we set off on a quest to "attune" (his words, not mine) the Mahjarratbane to the dragonkin and kill it as revenge for killing him... and it worked. But then he died again and I was left alone with the Mahjarrat/Dragonbane.

Alorah Taredi, his half-daughter, and I found Ptolemy-os, went to Freneskae, yada yada yada, and used the Mahjarratbane to make Ptolemos become himself again... a bit. He was confused a lot, but I could still see the good in him. Apparently, so could he. Ptolemy-os destroyed the Mahjarratbane almost immediately upon our return to Gielinor. I spoke out against it, but he was quite set on getting rid of the weapon.

I'm somewhat relieved it worked out as it did. The Mahjarratbane's conception began a chain of events that I never wanted nor needed in my life. So when Gephis'vros suggested I should try and fix it with sacred clay, I refused. In the end, though, he did it anyway (shows how little control I had over him) and presented it as a gift. Now Arachnea has it followig a "negotiation" gone wrong, even though I had no idea if it would work or not. Let it rot in her basement for all I care.

Status: Unknown (presumed destroyed or in Arachnea's possession).

Recording DeviceEdit

Year 3 of the Sixth Age

One of Ptolemos' creation (the only one in my possession that still functions somewhat properly). I spent hours speaking into that silly metal thing. It seems pointless now, but I remember wondering who the listener on the other side might be (surprise, it was me all along). I've locked it away for now in the hope I might be able to fix it or find someone else who can.

Gods, but am I glad I transcribed everything off this. Nothing in the vault survived the explosion.

Status: Destroyed.

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Witchwood ApparatusEdit

Year 4 of the Sixth Age

When they told me I wouldn't walk again, I told them I already have. Whether it was by manipulating magic or establishing and drawing upon a connection with the dead, I can regain the usage of my legs, but only temporarily and never for more than a few minutes at a time. Magic spells I cast will fade, my prayers unacknowledged or even spurned. So when told I won't walk again, I understand. I'll never be able to walk like I used to... can't put on those performances like I used to; can't dance or run like I could before. I can't even go swimming if I ever felt like learning how.

But maybe I won't have to.

Clerk, a (creepy) cave goblin from my days with the Hand of Ptolemos, knows more about engineering than anyone I know. It was he who saw to the blueprints of the divine bomb I requested and made them a reality. I never met a person like him; someone that could make something out of nothing with such ease (excluding Steven, who could literally weave anything out of divine energy; it was why I assigned him and Clerk to act and collaborate on the Tuska project together). I've seen what's inside his sketchbooks, and it's given me some ideas.

Witchwood. Ptolemos wrote briefly about this species of tree in his notes. Supposedly made extinct during the last God Wars, witchwood was a miraculous resource that possessed certain magical properties (it could regrow at a very fast rate, i.e., and was used as prosthetics according to rumours that said it could fuse with a host). I never thought twice about it until recognising it during that awful adventure through the forest of masked monstrosities.

Tiny Ptolemos and I were able to recover an entire sample from that place and have been studying it extensively since. We were discussing the possibilities of cultivating it when I remembered Clerk's sketches (apparently, the goblin has sketched just about everything he's seen; trust me when I say his talent for the imaginative was not lost on me). It was only a matter of persuasion to afford him the workspace and equipment necessary to develop what I've asked.

If my experience with pioneers like Clerk and Steven have taught me anything, it's that there is no such boundary which cannot be crossed with a little effort, vision, and sacrifice.

The apparatus is a success!  The prototype performed flawlessly. While watching I saw how one could move freely without impediment. I shouldn't be surprised; after all, Clerk designed the rig for mobility and ease of access. The witchwood and other components seam together perfectly. I don't know how the little cave goblin does it. I look forward to his finalised design.

I've begun employing the apparatus almost daily. Following the operation, I was confined to either my bed or chair without access to most things people take for granted. One of the servants attended to me day and night. Now... I can't express how much I've missed being able to walk by myself. I owe Clerk much and more for this. I won't forget.

There seems to be a slight problem when the apparatus is introduced to an outside energy source such as a magical attack. The rig stiffens and locks up, making it all but useless. It has something to do with the exposed divine charge, I'm sure. I'll bring this to Clerk's attention soon.

Clerk has designed another version of the apparatus with the divine charge shielded by a fine crystalline insulation. I don't know where he got the material and I'm not inclined to ask. He informed me that the rig wouldn't be quite so buoyant with the latest addition. However, I don't plan on going swimming anytime soon, so it's a moot point in any case.

Since I struck a deal with that demon Vellus, I haven't the need for the apparatus anymore. I have my legs once more. Perhaps I can try to market the apparatus. Surely there are people out there who, like myself, could use its comfort and support as I had.

I'm still looking for a suitable investor for the apparatus. The Runic Energy Association might be my best shot at getting this thing out there.

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Groups I've had encounters with or have heard about in my travels.

Followers of Zamorak's Opus Edit

Year 3 of the Sixth Age

Years ago, after my first child, a monk from the Followers of Zamorak's Opus found me. His name was Fykeric Bliem. He was one of the few people who understood me (I was so naive then). I guess that's why I tried so hard to find a place in his order. It was way better than working out of bars and performing for a single gold piece each night. The Followers were kind, humble people. They weren't at all like the monsters Saradominist preachers made them out to be. I was given a place to live, food to eat, and the freedom to pursue whatever art I wanted. That's what they taught me: to find myself in the chaos of the unknown, and then improve upon it.

I spent so many years trying to be someone I wasn't, someone I never wanted to be. Then I came to them and could choose that someone. But it was never easy. Followers were encouraged to leave and test themselves against whatever opportunities the world provided (we believed then that Zamorak designed these challenges for us in our travels). You wouldn't believe the things I came across (worst "challenge" involved a talking bear at a pie eating contest). Most of them were worthy trials though, such as a tournament I went to with Fykeric. Lost against a bloody imp, but I did learn how terrible I was fighting with two daggers. Self-improvement was a big deal for the order. If you wasn't bettering yourself, then you were cast out. Simple as that.

It wasn't all fun and games though. People everywhere still distrusted Zamorakians since they burned down the Wizards' Tower more than half a century before I was born. A few of monks never came back from their travels. Our little grotto grew real quiet for a few weeks every now and then. Fykeric became my mentor in those times and, later, my friend. He taught me a lot about being a Zamorakian. I won't ever forget my time with him or the order.

Hand of Ptolemos Edit

Year 3 of the Sixth Age

The Hand of Ptolemos was the brainchild of my own design (O.K., so maybe Sacheverell helped a little, but I swear the name was my idea). He and I survived the destruction of the ancient dragonkin ruins Ptolemos had made his own, and together rescued other survivors and made ourselves a new home in my old one (the bloodstains never did wash out of the temple's stonework unfortunately). I'll be damned when—and I could hardly believe it myself—not a single person deserted after sunset. I couldn't say whether it was a sense of honour or a miracle that held them in check; I was more concerned with Ptolemos' apparent death to really care. By then it had become second nature to me to assume direct control of everyone and everything—especially after I began working under Ptolemos. However, I could never have done it without Sacheverell—I even told him so on more than one occasion—yet never would he accept anything more than a minor supervisory role.

Our order (cult?) grew once word had spread of our founding. Honestly, I think a lot of our numbers came from Guthix's death, and the people who were more or less looking for any excuse to abandon their god; the Godless hadn't even formed yet (to my knowledge), so we were the next best thing, I guess. Or maybe Ptolemos called out to more than just Fykeric and myself since time travel became a thing (don't get me started). I began passing out a few assignments here and there like a good little leader, and then went on "official business" as our numbers really began to surge. In reality, I left most of the stuff I didn't want to bother with for Sacheverell while I searched for Ptolemos. Before I knew it everyone was calling me "Seeker" (not that they knew what I was seeking; I was the aloof leader who people liked to spread gossip about).

I could say none of it went to my head—that I was the paragon of good leadership qualities and a champion for female cult leaders everywhere—but then I would be lying. "Rosaline Haines, Seeker of the Hand of Ptolemos" had a nice ring to it, plus it looked really good on paper (I dare anyone to say otherwise). I began to say things I probably shouldn't have, and did plenty worse to those that didn't deserve it. Hell, I had god-worshippers tortured and brainwashed without a second thought. Maybe deep down somewhere inside I thought it would bring Ptolemos back or prove my devotion to his cause. I was angry and desperate (shocker) and had no one else to turn to, except Sacheverell who always supported my decisions and never second guessed me. I was a tyrant, yet it was exhilarating throughout.

Then Ptolemos did come back (only known to myself, Sacheverell on my suggestion, and Steven on Ptolemos'). I was ecstatic despite having given up hope long ago. He assumed command—surreptitiously, of course—while I communicated his actions and set in motion his plans. Our order couldn't know the truth of his return: We all agreed that it would have ruined us because of our established canon). So it went until the two first gods (Saradomin and Zamorak) decided to fight just outside Lumbridge.

I'll admit right now, I made several bad decisions going into that fight. I overextended our severely unprepared and ill-equipped military, acted too rashly and impulsively. I made mistakes, and my people suffered for it. Gravely wounded following a battle in the crater, I gave command to the newly assigned Marshal and left for the temple to receive treatment (Ptolemos was away and Sacheverell was the only other being I trusted at the time). To my surprise, I found Ptolemos there—wisps of his lingering memory anyway—and then things went badly for the order.

That's about where my role in the Hand ended. I gave leadership over to Sacheverell and left with unPtolemos. I'd say good riddance but I won't. There were good people in the order who deserved better than that slimeball Alaric and the fate he gave them. At least they can rest now.


Year 3 of the Sixth Age

The Kinshra. Black knights. They're not at all like the Followers of Zamorak's Opus. While the Followers spilled blood, they only did it for holy rites or blessings, and almost always used animals (the only human blood they spilled were their own). The Kinshra are a different matter; more militant and radical (at least the ones I infiltrated). They kept slaves, used human sacrifice, and worse. I'm glad I was found by Fykeric instead of a knight from the Kinshra order. I doubt I would be the same person I am today if otherwise.

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The Chosen BattalionEdit

Year 3 of the Sixth Age

Bandosian worshippers of the worst kind (Bandos is dead, people). According to Ptolemos' notes, Yokrad once led this faction before leaving and becoming whatever he is now (lord and master of a dead world from the sound of it), and now the ourg (big ogres?) Gorbuk runs it. Not that I ever met him; Fulgrash the Ourgslayer (ironic) caught me, and it was under him I mostly served as a slave (I think he favoured me). It was either hard labour or menial tasks—with the occasional flogging for good measure—but the worst part was the ridicule... and the leering. They were no better than animals, always fighting each other over the slightest offences. I'm surprised they haven't all died yet. They're a fine example of how gods can still be dangerous even after their death.

The First Commander negotiated an alliance with Gorbuk (I wouldn't have agreed to those terms, but then I'm not the First Commander). I'll be counting the days to see how long this lasts.

The GodlessEdit

Year 3 of the Sixth Age

Honestly, before the Sixth Age happened, I'm don't know if this concept even existed. Gods were just names in legends and scripture for us then; an unspoken part of everyday life... unlike now where you can't step two feet before having "holy" propaganda forced down your throat. I've even heard people calling this the "Divine Age", which I find both stupid and ignorant (has the world forgotten the God Wars already?) I see nothing divine in a bunch of arseholes using our world as their playbox to wage war. Fortunately, I'm not the only one; the Godless are a league of mortals from all walks of life who share a common bond: the desire to see the world as it could be, without gods and their like. I don't want to raise my children in a world ruled by beings incapable of humanity (as strange as that sounds coming from me of all people). I actually feel like I can help people with them. Under Ptolemos, I only served the Mahjarrat (frankly, I'm embarrassed by how long it took for me to realise that)—but now?—I serve all mortals... even if they don't know it yet.

It is done; the god-beast's corpse lies off the coast of some obscure desert village (they have the most delicious pineapples). Fitting, I should think. I admit, I had my doubt—as all did—but the Godless really pulled through (let it not be said that the Zamorakians didn't pull their own weight in the fight against Tuska; I'm quite proud of my former brothers and sisters). Hopefully this victory will convince even more to join our cause. It should be obvious now that mortals can, have, and will protect their own.

On another note, I finally met some of the senior godless: Garlandia, a wingless icyene, and the heroine Kara-Meir (and I thought I was difficult). One of those weird rockmen (Scopewluss Scopulus?) was there too. I still don't trust them or their leader—what if he was empowered by Tuska's dying energies and hasn't told us?—despite what the others say about them being the "soul of the world". I don't really have much say though with the founders trusting them, so I'll just bite my tongue and let them hash it out (sometimes I miss being the boss, and then I remember all the things I already have to put up with and I'm fine with it).

Year 4 of the Sixth Age

Much has passed since my last entry. I'm now the Second Commander of the Godless. I still can't wrap my mind around it. I'm in a better position than ever been to further our cause... yet I feel so useless. I've been writing doctors, wizards and shamans alike; all say I can't restore movement in my legs. I don't and won't believe that. In this world of magic and gods, surely there's something that can fix me. But until then... I have more paperwork that needs attending (whoever said crunching numbers was fun obviously never had to before).

I find it cute that the Godless think they can order their members to hunt me down like an animal. They obviously have no idea what I'm capable of... but they will learn. I won't let this order die because of the ineptitude of a few. The mortals of our world deserve better than this.

Perhaps I was wrong. The Godless have made it abundantly clear that I should die because of my actions. I thought I could save them. Why should I bother when they won't try the same with me?

The Uvrouzran ClanEdit

Year 3 of the Sixth Age

The Uvrouzran (Yokrad made sure I could spell it right; supposedly it was a mythical warrior-figure Bandos admired as a young child) Clan is hardly more than a bunch of slavers and bullies collaborating under their god's orders. I first saw them during Yokrad's "tour" of his city, where they would force slaves to fight in the arena; others were trying to use their pea-sized brains to strategise beneath statues of Yokrad's "finest", as well as beneath his massive throne near the centre of the city. Afterwards, while being shown through the city's dungeons, I saw many of the clan doing horrible things to the captive "heretics" (a lot of Armadyleans and Godless, as well as cave goblins hard at work). It reminded me of the Chosen Battalion, which isn't that surprising since they're basically two branches of the same dying tree.

Worshippers of the DragonkinEdit

Year 3 of the Sixth Age

I know next to nothing about the Dragonkin Worshippers (even Ptolemos' notes regarding them are severely lacking). Most of what I do know came from my conversations with Ptolemy, who was actually in Varrock during their occupation of the city. Surprisingly (or perhaps unsurprisingly), Ptolemy bore almost no ill will toward the foreigners. He actually expressed an interest in their culture and was even approached by the Guy/axe/imus Gaiaximus, the Worshippers' leader or one of them anyway. I doubt many shared his opinion, although I can't really say I blame them. Ptolemy didn't condone their rough treatment of the more defiant citizens, however, and refused to elaborate further when I pressed him about some rumours I'd heard in passing.

Still, despite the negativity surrounding them, I did suggest to the First Commander that the Godless try and approach the Worshippers. I knew their empire had spanned much of the Wilderness, and had even studied the Misthalani War extensively just to learn what I could about their military strength and stratagems (I can't believe that Magus bloody Concendo flooded Lumbridge, the old fart). Imagine how much we could have accomplished had we the Worshippers' backing and strength.

People Edit

The people I've met and the faces I've seen.

Note: Can't help but notice that many of those listed here are either dead or my enemies...


Fiery, hateful monsters from Hell or something.


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Year 4 of the Sixth Age

I will eat him alive for what he did to my son.

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Vellus TareliusEdit

Year 4 of the Sixth Age

Vellus Tarelius. Chthonian demon and worker of miracles. I don't know his agenda and I don't really care. I signed a contract with him after suffering yet another devastating blow when Yokrad's meddling minions decided to come after me and mine again. Vellus rescued me and offered me a deal: he could restore my legs and much more, so long as I agreed to go through some type of transformative process where he would corrupt my body with a warped parasitic strain taken from a ripper demon... or something. I understood little of his explanation to be honest. Perhaps it's for the best. I've grown sick of having my life ruined by monsters like Yokrad and his ilk, and I can't fight back without the use of my legs. Even with them, I'm almost always out of my league when pit against those stronger and wiser than me. This was my chance to fight back; desperate times and all that...

It's too late to turn back now. The pact is made and Vellus awaits. I'm... afraid of what I might become after the demon works his magic. I keep trying to justify my decision but what if I'm wrong? What if I become the monster I'm trying to defend myself against? Please, please remember who you are and why you do this. Don't lose yourself to this. Remember.


Dragonmen. Enough said.


Year 3 of the Sixth Age

What little I know of the Dragonkin comes straight from the legend of Robert the Strong and his adventures slaying the beasts. I'd thought them all dead by the turn of the new age. I was dead wrong (see what I did there?). Turns out Ptolemos' attempt at changing history woke one of the beasts from its slumber. It pursued Ptolemos and tore him apart. However, a part of Ptolemos survived and together we learned its name and purpose: the utter destruction of the world by corrupting the Anima Mundi via the energy rifts recently made by Guthix's death and the fall of his edicts. What followed was a race against time to stop Lashual's plot and avenge my then master's death. Turns out humans and Mahjarrat can cooperate when the stakes are high enough.


Short hairy people. Not to be confused with gnomes.


Year 4 of the Sixth Age

I don't know where this dwarf carries his equipment. I've seen Denrak do things I couldn't believe. It must be dwarven magic, but I've never seen a dwarf use magic, let alone wield it like he does. Denrak is a welcome ally nonetheless (as resourceful a dwarf I've ever met bar none).


Willowy race with a penchant for singing and being beautiful.

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Year 4 of the Sixth Age

I don't have much to say about this elf. Dithral was a commander of elves with strange power over ice. Denrak and I slew him, but the battle was hard-fought. I'm not looking forward to meeting more of his people in the future.


Year 4 of the Sixth Age

Lyam. Elf. Good with a bow and an excellent huntsman with an affinity for sarcasm and wordplay (puns are the Godless' weapon of choice). I'd tried making an ally of him in the past by sharing my misgivings with direction Mark was taking our order, but it would seem he as well as the others don't approve of my animated warriors or my ability to lead. I doubt I've won any favours from him since the trial and my escape, but at least he hasn't shot me between the eyes... yet.


Mythical wish-granting creatures from Kharidian folklore.


Year 4 of the Sixth Age

I never thought genies were real until I met Myrmia. It would be my luck to meet the worse genie ever. She's rubbish at granting wishes and is very flirtatious. Still... getting out of Freneskae wouldn't have been possible without her. I've got one wish left. Hopefully I won't waste it like the others.

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Spectral spirits of the departed and condemned.


Year 3 of the Sixth Age

So I caught this weird ghost-shadow thing watching me the other day. I don't think whatever he is expected me to see him but afterwards he didn't seem too shaken (that makes one of us). It bore the silhouette of some ancient looking nobleman and after a lot of insistence finally gave me a name: Valrisandra. I wanted to know why he was watching me and told it as much, though getting the thing to talk was like trying to get an answer out of an addled tribesman: absolutely nothing it said made any sense. I caught something about providence and a choice before it disappeared. I swear, if it's not a gods or Mahjarrat spying on me, it's ghosts.

Caught him again watching me from outside my balcony (honestly, what good are wards when they don't ward). I've actually considered using a few of my old clerical spells just to get rid of the thing, although by the time I get my mind finally made up it's gone again.

It was actually inside the house while I was in the bath. WHAT.

O.K. I've spent the last few hours strengthening every inch of the estate with whatever magical warding spells I could find in Ptolemos' notes. I'm not having that creepy shadow sneak up on me ever again (who does that?).

Valrisandra tried to take me and make me one of his shadows... or so I'm told. It's all still fuzzy. I remember confronting that slime ball Fulgrash, and then... a beach? I swear I heard Lin and Jo laughing... Ptolemy was there as well. It was... I don't know. Maybe I imagined it; a hallucination or something. It was Joe and the others who found me. They rescued me from that fate. Still, I can't help but wonder why I heard them when all I saw his shadow.

Orstrythes. That's where Valrisandra brought me. It's a village—the ruins of a village anyway—in the Wilderness. Apparently it was of little interest; I couldn't find a single reference in Ptolemos' notes anywhere. I had to interrogate over a dozen different demons just to find a morsel of information about the place. According to the demon I summoned, Orstrythes, while little more than a hamlet in the Second Age, was the site of a cult that regularly practised sacrificial rituals. Strangely the only sacrifices were volunteers or pilgrims; they fought each other before an altar and archway (Joe and the others confirmed the presence of both). Whomever survived the battle then passed through the archway and disappeared completely.

If I'm thinking correctly (and if the demon wasn't lying), Orstrythes was where Valrisandra recruited soldiers for his shadow army. That means this ghost or shadow-whatever is far older than I originally thought. If so, then perhaps he's simply reaching outside of the ruins to "recruit" (not a lot of volunteers/pilgrims nowadays) and I was one of the few who drew the short straw and got his attention. It makes sense... which is why I doubt it's that simple (obviously). Valrisandra is anything but simple, and Orstrythes... It's not a where, but a who.

So it's done. Valrisandra and his legion of shadows fight for me temporarily. I've paid the ultimate sacrifice for his and their service as it is, but he will understand. I will teach him to understand.

Year 4 of the Sixth Age

I made a mistake. It was when I first decided to deal with Valrisandra. He was never interested in me. Well, maybe he was at first. That all changed when he met my son. Something about Linold caught his eye. That's how I was able to arrange for him and his army to fight for me in the battle of New Yok. I promised my firstborn in exchange for his services. Why do I keep doing this to myself? How could I have been so desperate to offer up my own child to this... this thing? Gods... It wasn't very long after Vellus' ritual that I lured out Valrisandra. I had to protect my son. Providence can wait. I... devoured Valrisandra, or at least as much as I could. I don't know if I consumed all of him or not. What I learned is that Valrisandra isn't just some shadow on the wall. Valrisandra is far more ancient than anything I've met. I knew that much after I...

I can still feel him lingering inside me. His shadow was... viscous and greasy and so... rich. I felt it coat the back of my throat like a cold sludge. It was unlike anything I've ever experienced, beyond even what I went through during the period of time I was oversaturated with Yokrad's divine magic. This was something more. It left me with an ache I couldn't comprehend. But now I know the sensation for what it truly was: hunger... and that scares me.

I did this. Linold was safe with Valrisandra around despite my concerns. Now they're both gone. The worst part is Joanne's understanding. How can a child her age know the difference between grief and guilt? I can't keep her safe anymore. How long before I become desperate enough to sacrifice her? Ptolemy was right. She will be safe with the elves in Prifddinas. I can't...


Big guys with tiny heads who come in all different shapes and sizes.


Year 3 of the Sixth Age

A great green giant of a man who I had the displeasure of meeting (to be fair, it gets better). He and I first met in Peakstone during my travels for powerful magical artefacts. We worked together until he knocked me unconscious (like I said, it gets better) and left me for Varrock's finest. Later, I may have set him up to antagonise my Kudret (he deserved every second of it for treating me how he did). It wasn't my brightest move but I enjoyed it nonetheless. In the end, it all worked out; he and I worked together again to end to Gephis'vros' dirty schemes, and then parted ways somewhat amicably. I guess it's one of those weird curve-balls life throws at you (gods know I've had my fair share of them).

Big guy turns out to be a good drinking buddy: he doesn't talk much and has a precious little bunny-spider pet creature that follows him around like a lost puppy (already have a name in mind for mine if I ever go through with adopting one).

I think he's a gnome.

𝐼𝓃 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝓌𝒶𝓎! 𝐸𝓍𝒸𝑒𝓅𝓉 𝓇𝒶𝒸𝑒. —𝒮𝑒𝓇𝒶𝒻𝒾𝓃𝑜


Super-powerful pricks like Mahjarrat but worse.

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Year 3 of the Sixth Age

I don't get it. I mean, I know that Guthix kept the gods from our world, and how they destroyed his however many centuries ago—who hasn't heard the stories by now?—but he didn't exactly do us any favours apart from the Edicts. Let me clarify: the God Wars. If Guthix was so mighty and against the gods, then why did he allow them to war for an entire age? Why weren't his Edicts already in place to begin with? Surely he of all people had experience with their kind before (duh). Was he naive or somehow ignorant of their danger? Or maybe he wasn't powerful enough.

I just can't comprehend how it took so much destruction for him to realise his mistake. Even then, after putting an end to the God Wars, his best solution was to erect a giant barrier around the world. That sounds to me like he was only trying to prolong the inevitable. In any case, it doesn't take a carpenter to tell you that walls develop cracks over time, especially when beings such as Bandos and Saradomin keep knocking on them like door-to-door missionaries trying to get you to open up just so they can bash you over the head with their mace or bloated ego. Whatever Guthix hoped to achieve, he failed, and now his inaction might have cost us mortals everything.

Mephiles SolEdit

Year 4 of the Sixth Age

We're still learning more about the self-proclaimed god Mephiles Sol every day. His artefacts of power remain a sore point among the order. I believe we can use them against him however. Yet we must be cautious. We've drawn his attention with our actions and have suffered as a result of it. I fear we have seen only a small fraction of what Mephiles has to offer... and have only begun to test the depths of which some of us are willing to go to take our revenge against him.

I will see him bleed for taking my son away from me. It doesn't matter when or how. I could die tomorrow and it wouldn't make a difference. There doesn't exist a Gielinorian hell deep enough to keep him from my wrath. Mephiles will petrify before this age is over. I guaran-damn-tee it.


Year 4 of the Sixth Age

Seren is the goddess of the elves. Never met her personally, but I might have seen her once (hard to tell in a city made of crystal). They make her out to be the new Guthix—or even better. I don't know what to think about that. It's true that Prifddinas might be the safest place on Gielinor right now. That's why I left my daughter there after all. I just hope that elf crap doesn't go to her head.


Year 3 of the Sixth Age

Some legendary Fremennik god or something. I couldn't get much out of the tribesman I spoke with—what even is an "outlander"?—but then I began asking about V. He was apparently some sort of hero before becoming a god who protected the Fremennik for awhile, but then the God Wars happened and he left out of respect for Guthix or something. I got the evil eye when I suggested that was probably a good thing. V returned not too long ago, but was either a) killed by a dragonkin (sound familiar?) or b) slain by some evil twin. Both sound ridiculous but at least I've seen a dragonkin in action before. Evil twins? Not so much. As for V's return... He shouldn't have come back, plain and simple. Trouble followed and, like Guthix and Bandos, he died. I almost feel bad for him... The stories they told me were brilliant.


Year 4 of the Sixth Age

Vorago is—for all intents and purposes—the presumptive godless champion moving forward in Sliske's contest, and our best shot at winning the Stone of Jas (no matter how much I tried arguing with one of those masks I apparently don't "qualify" for slaying Yokrad). I'm pretty sure Vorago doesn't care about our movement in the slightest. What I'm not sure about, however, is whether this monster creature gained the powers of Tuska when it struck the killing blow. In any case I've listed Vorago among the gods, mostly because it's bloody enormous in person.


Year 3 of the Sixth Age

This "god" was the leader of the Chosen Battalion once (not sure if he claimed so then or after). Whether or not I doubt this claim, it's obvious he has access to powerful magic (also has a weird thing for Bandos). But does being powerful make you a god by definition? I'm not yet convinced that's untrue. Yokrad's been both ally and enemy to me in the past; however, should he continue to preach godhood and not stay on Ubeuscah Yu'biusk (found its correct spelling in Ptolemos' notes) where he belongs, no amount of divinity will stop us mortals from tearing him a new one.

Yokrad admitted to spying on our meeting (need stronger wards). Figures. I can't do anything without someone peeking over my shoulder. Why shouldn't the gods do the same? But at least he confirmed our suspicions: Tuska, whatever he/she/it is, comes for our world. I'm glad the Godless had the foresight to investigate those rumours about the airut after all. It may not have seemed like a big advantage at the time but now we're prepared. Fortunately for us Yokrad's as dense as he looks. We goaded him into fighting her. If we're lucky, they'll off each other. I saw a bunch of bright lights in the sky not long after he disappeared so... who knows?

So the self-proclaimed god of war and slaughter lives (and somehow heard my thoughts about him; need to watch myself there). I wasn't expecting to been torn from my bed in the early hours of the morning yet there I was (inside some kind of magic bubble floating through space, no less) with nothing on but my nightgown and slippers. Yokrad was there, looking a little the worse for wear, with longtime buddy Drok, a hob I'm somewhat familiar with from my travels with Ptolemos. Oh, and so was Tuska, looming ominously as only a world-eating boar goddess can in the background (although seeing how large she was made me realise how small I really am).

Anyway, most of our time was spent talking about Tuska. Yokrad couldn't do anything against her as long as that barrier the wizards mentioned surrounds her; I argued our need for a better way to kill her; Drok did... something (he was watching a vial float around the bubble because space). Yokrad later showed me Tuska's crown after I asked him to take us closer. I'd hoped there might be some clearer path we could take to get around her quills and strike faster, but... nothing I could see. I was then sent home afterwards (thankfully not ejected into space). Perhaps the wizards will figure something out... or perhaps Tuska can't be stopped... I'm starting to think that maybe praying isn't a bad idea after all (but to who... or what).

Yokrad saved me. I never thought I would be grateful to a god—much less a Bandosian (former one counts)—but after that disaster of an ambush... I'm just glad I'm alive and not floating dead among the debris left behind in Tuska's wake. Gods, I was so close, but those idiots had to fight each other instead of the real enemy (I expected it from the Saradominists and Zamorakians but who were those hooded men?). They're the reason Draynor burned as it did (the airut too). I know I should focus on being happy I survived. That doesn't mean squat to those who died fighting the purple freaks though. Of Yu'biusk... well, I was actually surprised at what Yokrad managed. I've read the reports: that world is supposed to be dead, yet I saw plant-life there. New Yok (seriously?) was thriving as well as a city could (on a dead world anyway). Good for them, I guess. Beats having them on Gielinor.

Sometimes I wonder whether Yokrad's violent by nature or just plain stupid. He showed up on Tuska through this big display of power and bravado—mind you in Bandos' likeliness—and expected not to get attacked (or maybe he did). Either way, a few godless got some nasty bruises and a cracked rib or two for their efforts while I had to look like a giant hypocrite in front of everyone for knowing a god. Meanwhile, Yokrad took one look at the "world window" (portal?) and declared he would conquer Gielinor one day (as if being a Bandos wannabe wasn't bad enough) before leaving as he appeared. Since then I couldn't help but notice a lot of glaring in my direction. I want to explain to them that just because I gave the order to stand down—which, by the way, kept them from being slaughtered—doesn't mean I'm suddenly worshipping the big arse although I have a feeling they wouldn't listen anyway.

Bugger the gods. Bugger Yokrad. I've lost too much because of him: my home and Steven. Not only that, he carries the blood of the innocents of Ymgorffori and beyond. I've grown beyond tired of him toying with my life. I can't—won't—let this stand. He may think mortals weak and the godless cause a failure. I will prove him otherwise. Gods may not fear death as mortals do, but there are worse fates. I will teach him the meaning of loss. Of guilt and regret. I will make him feel what it is to be mortal again—to be human. Then I will end him.

She stood over me with that damned magical spearhead in hand... and yet, even as it pierced my breastplate, I felt only malice and astonishment. It was that hate that kept me going—hate for the woman who slew me—though it was my own disbelief that stayed my hand when I should have run her through with my sword.

I met her gaze as the petrification set in. I had plenty to say, but my throat stopped working by the time I could form the words. The world as I knew it grew smaller as my consciousness faded, leaking out of me and passing through her. I laughed; a cruel fate for the godless Rosaline Haines...

The void is all around me. Drok must lead them now. He...

Those were Yokrad's last thoughts. I feel them as my own, as he did. I saw myself as I pushed that spearhead through him. It was our limbs that grew heavy, our mind that grew dim as the end came. I heard my agonized cries as whatever was inside Yokrad drew into me.

I can't think straight; so many memories... It's just as Ptolemos'. Is that my fate now? No. I refuse it. I refused it.

Focus. I fought her Yokrad in single combat. We clashed repeatedly. The anima spear... Stole it from them. I used it against him. Yokrad. It was his realm, a pocket dimension of our creation. Ptolemos knows, he made one. I put my twins there, far away from them. They're afraid. I'll check on them now. They are afraid and I need them.

Yokrad's gone. Dead. I'm myself again. More than myself. The power that went through me after I killed him was overwhelming. Agonizing. I was lost for awhile among memories of his, mine, Ptolemos' and more. But they're quiet, for now at the very least. I'm finally myself again and Yokrad...

Yokrad is no more.

Year 4 of the Sixth Age

Yokrad is no more... and yet something (someone?) bearing a resemblance to the late lord of New Yok attacked an encampment of godless soldiers. It was invulnerable and completely engulfed in flames (magical ward?), so I can't say whether it was Yokrad or not. More than likely it's a trick his warriors thought to use against me and the Godless in their quest for revenge. Strangely it also attacked their own... Whatever the case, I can't let myself get caught unawares by that monstrosity again.

I'm beginning to understand the frustration Ptolemos' enemies faced in the past. That monstrosity I fought must have been none other than Yokrad, as just yesterday I came face to face with the self-proclaimed god himself. Yokrad is still alive despite everything I've done to make his death a finality. I saw him die and experienced it through his own memories. Gods die. We've seen it before. But Yokrad is something else.


Year 4 of the Sixth Age

Zamorak. My patron deity for the better part of a decade. I've already touched upon why I found his teachings so appealing in previous entries (see: Followers of Zamorak's Opus, Fykeric Bliem, etc.) You could say I was always a free spirit, especially in my youth. My parents frowned upon that and went to great lengths to make me otherwise (maturity has blessed me with an appreciation for what they were trying for that my younger self could never have possessed). It's what pushed me away from them, and then the city in time.

Zamorakianism was taboo where I came from (that goes for most of the world as well). I'm sure just about everyone's familiar with the tales portraying "evil" Zamorakians as monsters preying on the flesh and blood of maidens and whatnot (I know now the difference between true monsters and pretenders). Those stories only fuelled my already imaginative mind and gave me too much to play with, especially when you add in the old legends about the bordering realms of Morytania and the Wilderness. I won't deny ever being curious as a child. The other kids and I were once caught bleeding a stray pup so we could try summoning an imp (or something).

What we did was wrong, sure, but the Saradominists denying us the knowledge and choice of another religion and substituting it with their own was far worse in my eyes. Growing up I always hated attending church; the only fun I had there was when I got to sing in the choir. Why would Saradomin create us so we could question him? Wouldn't obedience have been better than the freedom of choice? That was just the beginning of my questioning just how the gods played into the world and our lives (more so my own than any other; minors are a selfish lot).


Those of mixed blood. Sometimes seen as abominations, mostly undistinguishable by sight alone.

Alorah TarediEdit

Year 3 of the Sixth Age

I don't know what to say about Alorah. She was crazy, fanatical—always on about a "one true god"—yet there was a time where I'd considered her a friend. I'll go ahead and ask the big question: do I regret killing her? No. She'd proven to be a wildcard with her preachiness. Plus, her time on Freneskae had changed her. No sane being would willingly expose themselves to that broken husk of a world. But Alorah didn't even hesitate; apparently, it was sacred to her god for whatever reason... I just don't understand how she could justify her actions so easily based on the belief of an all-powerful creator-god guiding our actions. My faith in Zamorak was never like that... Even while following Ptolemos' directives I knew right from wrong—it didn't make enacting them any easier—but at least I was aware of what I was doing the whole time and could choose. Alorah... always seemed so sure—of herself, in her movement, anything—it didn't matter because the "one true god" was with her. I wanted that... I almost had it with Ptolemy. But Alorah's god wouldn't allow that, would he? No, we were Freneskae bound—right from the start, too, she would have me believe. Well, piss on that. He's not my god, she's dead, and besides, I have no desire to live in a world either of them wanted for any of us.

Year 4 of the Sixth Age

I've been informed that Alorah's spirit was seen haunting ruins sacred to the dead god Zaros (assumed dead?). Figures. Ptolemos' uncanny ability to ignore the effects of death must run in the family. I wonder what she must think of me now...

Sacheverell LessardEdit

Year 3 of the Sixth Age

Sacheverell... Sacheverell was a fighter, if nothing else. Back then I didn't really think much of him. "Too much icyene and not enough human blood in him", I always thought, but that changed after he adjusted to being around other people again; his true colours showed then. Everything he did for me—not to mention the wonders he could work with the right herbs—made him one of the order's greatest assets. But more than that, Sacheverell was my friend. He was one of the few people I could just sit down and talk with. More than once he saved my life, and in the end I couldn't save his. I wasn't there for him, yet he was always there for me. I miss him and his overbearing motherly concern (surprisingly) a great deal more than I thought I would. Wherever you are now, Sacheverell, I hope you and Helisende are together again (someone deserves a happy ending, right?).


Bigger and nastier than your typical goblin. Smellier, too.


Year 3 of the Sixth Age

Perhaps the only tolerable hob I've encountered in my travels. I recollect Ptolemos having spoken of his clashes with the creature, but I only ever met him under unusual circumstances (mostly alongside Yokrad and his "divine" intrusions). However, our first meeting was just before we—Alorah, Ptolemy, and myself—used an ancient portal to reach Freneskae. Marethyu, a Mahjarrat and one of Ptolemos' former allies (fat lot of good he was), used magic on Drok and made him... darker or something. He was then assigned to escort us, like a bodyguard. I couldn't trust a Mahjarrat then, especially so for a flake like Marethyu, and as such, I kept an eye on him. Drok never betrayed us, surprisingly. He and Yokrad even saved us from dying out there (I doubt Ptolemos could have made the trek back even if he abandoned me and Alorah to our fates).

I'm not sure if Drok and I will ever be anything more than acquaintances, but considering he's a general in Yokrad's arm, as well as his second-in-command, it's not much of a stretch to believe we'll become enemies at one point.

Year 4 of the Sixth Age

I must be a seer or something. Ever since Yokrad's death, this hob wants my soul destroyed and ripped to shreds. I barely survived my last encounter with him (how does a hobgoblin get that strong anyway?). I doubt anything I can do would call off Drok or his hounds, so from now on I have to a) either figure out how to kill him or b) avoid him entirely. I don't know which sounds harder.


Year 3 of the Sixth Age

Ourgslayer. Or so I heard, I never actually saw him kill one (whatever an "ourg" is). He's a tough little runt, but even I know it's not that difficult to beat a pregnant woman in single combat. Kinder than most Bandosians (doesn't mean much), he was the reason I was put in the slave pens and not mounted on a pike somewhere. Sure, I'll carry the scars from my time with the Battalion for the rest of my life; with any luck, though, the Ourgslayer won't—not after I'm done with him (that is, if he isn't slain by his own idiot underlings first).


Year 3 of the Sixth Age

Wenkaurg (or however you spell it) serves under the Ourgslayer as his personal scribe or something. I thought he was just another spineless cretin until he led an assault on Ymgorffori. He actually won against the elves from the city above by using a golem with a type of magic I'd never seen before; it affected their crystals somehow and left them inert (could be useful; you can't walk two feet without running into a crystal-something there). I wasn't in the mood to fight that day, so I talked a lot of bullshit to distract him long enough for the elves to get there (see how well that turned out). If I see the hob again, I'll be sure he gets the same treatment as the Ourgslayer (and a better nickname than "Harbinger" Wunderkaurg!).


Humans. Not much else to say here.

Argen HoweEdit

Year 4 of the Sixth Age

Argen is another child of the Godless as far as I'm concerned. She's impulsive, brash, and an alcoholic—in short, she reminds me of myself. Imagine my surprise when I found out that she was a magic-user capable of manipulating the very earth as though it were wet clay beneath her fingers. The wonders she could work if she only applied herself... but then moments such as when the order basically kidnapped and forced her to return to the Eastern Lands makes their apathy and incompetence all too clear. Argen has the right to make her own choices. The fact that the Godless stripped that freedom from her made them no better than the very beings we fight against...


Year 4 of the Sixth Age

The third child of the Godless. I can't say I know him as well as the others, so he could very well be more developed than either or the complete opposite. Only time will tell.


Year 3 of the Sixth Age

Darkauro is... dark. Mysterious. I don't think I've seen him out of his armour since I first met him. I expected something a little different from the Second Commander of the Godless.

Something happened to Dark. I'm still not sure what exactly. It involved a demon as far as I'm aware. Tricky beasts (I should know). He willingly retired from his position as Second Commander, and now I find myself in his former position. I... It's a bit overwhelming, but I will try to make him and the others proud.

Year 4 of the Sixth Age

Dark is perhaps one of the few competent fighters in the order. This makes him a valuable ally and a potentially dangerous foe. I know his knowledge of the Shadow Realm extends beyond that of even the most skilled wizards, yet who can boast more knowledge of the ancient magics than one who has been in the presence of the fiercest and wisest Mahjarrat (complete and total access to Ptolemos' notes doesn't hurt either).

Damn it! I should never have agreed to let Dark use that memory wand on me, although what other choice did I have? They would have used it anyway. The truth serum I could counteract; memories, on the other hand, are pure, raw and not so easily changed. I was foolish to think that he had any intention other than rooting out the truth. Still, I had hoped he would prove loyal to the cause. I hadn't seen nor heard anything that would suggest he and Mark shared anything beyond a professional relationship. I hate being tricked.


Year 3 of the Sixth Age

Domino, as far as I'm aware, is (or was) a minion of Queen Batshit Insane. She was also part of an alliance between Mahjarrat—strange since her deranged mistress was dead—and fought against Ptolemos and myself during a skirmish in an ancient dragonkin ruin. Barring a chance encounter in Varrock (of which nothing came about), she and I haven't crossed paths at all. Nevertheless, I've kept my eyes open and ears to the ground; and stangely enough, I haven't seen nor heard from her since.

Franklin DovinoEdit

Year 3 of the Sixth Age

Franklin Dovino was chosen to assume the mantle of Third Commander following Dark's resignation and my promotion. I don't know the man very well, but I have faith in his skills. We'll see how he does moving forward.

Franklin is doing well all things considered. The sudden assault on the Godless Hall orchestrated by Mephiles Sol, an up-and-coming god (self-proclaimed), has us all tense and on high alert. Frank fought admirably in defense of the keep alongside the others. Between him, myself and Mark, the order lies in safe hands.

Year 4 of the Sixth Age

It would seem the Godless prefers Frank's leadership over mine. They've appointed him First Commander following Mark's death. I don't understand their reasoning. The loss of my son hasn't affected my ability to lead. It only hones it. Fuels it. I won't let this stand. Franklin should have refused!

Exarch Franklin Dovino. He stole my position and title (the nerve)!

Fykeric BliemEdit

Year 3 of the Sixth Age

A worshipper of Zamorak, and a founder of the Followers of Zamorak's Opus, as well as my former mentor. He was the first man I met who sought to help me rather than use me. I joined the Followers because of him; he taught me how to take charge of my destiny for the first time in my life. It was liberating: those few years with the order were... perfect. But then Ptolemos deceived us—used me like so many others—and I fell for him like a starry-eyed schoolgirl.

Fykeric died because of me. I was too impulsive, too stupid to realise what was going on. He and I had our disagreements concerning Zamorak's teachings, but I never meant... no, of course I meant it. He'd become another obstacle between Ptolemos' goal. Just the same, of all those dead by my hand, I find Fykeric's face the hardest to tune out.

Jardar BadassEdit

Year 4 of the Sixth Age

Jardar Badass. Badass by name, badass by reputation. I met him and Denrak while searching for an energy rift in the northern Fremennik Province. I made him out to be just another barbarian savage, and I wasn't surprised. Jardar was a force to be reckoned with both on and off the battlefield. I doubt even Joe could outdrink him (though he would have given Jardar a run for his gold pieces).

Joe BarbariaEdit

Year 3 of the Sixth Age

Joe's a merc—hired help—and the smart-arse who shot me not once but twice on Kemses' orders. I know routine though: "nothing personal", "gold before honour", and whatever else half wits like Joe quote these days. So, instead of seeking revenge I decided to pay him off, have come work for me (plus I like listening to him complain after I assign him a shitty job, it makes me smile). I'll admit, he's a good shot with a crossbow. If he dies while out in the field, well... it's just business.

Maybe Joe betrayed me. maybe he didn't (it's hard for me to see the good in people nowadays). Hopefully, if he can smuggle the orb into Kemses' fortress, I can end this stupid game of cat-and-mouse between him and I while letting Joe prove his loyalty (or greed, I suppose).

Joe made good on everything. Although I wasn't so sure about him at first, he's well earned his gold by now. Hell, I might even share a few drinks with him one day (I don't care what he says, he'll be the one to buy them).

Joe's a bloody idiot. Honestly, what was going through his head? Waking me up like that to go and sell herbs (some of them weren't even cleaned properly)... Now that I think about it, he probably wasn't. It didn't even seem to faze him when we got attacked by some gang (territory dispute?) Doesn't he realise gold's worth nothing if the world's eaten first?

I'm probably going to regret this later: I've allowed Joe and the others free passage of my estate while I'm staying with family in Ymgorffori. It's not forever, right? Besides, I'm fairly confident that my wards can withstand the worst those men can muster, if anything happens.

Joe got the smart idea of holding a party to celebrate my return (as if I was gone that long). As expected, it was terrible from the start. He had invited strangers from all walks of life, and even somehow got Yokrad there (how?). Everything except the wine was either overcooked or bland; and I'm pretty sure Yokrad served aviansie for dessert. Later, a musician with a strange instrument performed a song about me (I need to figure out how he knew so much about my childhood). It was a pretty poor performance... but I suppose it's the thought that counts. I can't even recall the last time somehow held a celebration for me, so for Joe of all people to do this... It was nice (but the pink furnishings had to go).

Year 4 of the Sixth Age

I never thought I could miss an alcoholic as much as I miss Joe. He's resting with my brother now in Harmony Cemetery. I make sure to visit them when I can. Linold and Joanne probably miss him more than I do. They keep asking why he had to go. I don't have the courage to tell them his death was because I refused to hand myself over. I know Joe though, and he wouldn't want me to blame myself. So whenever I get a moment to myself, I pour myself a glass of his favourite whiskey and start cursing like a sailor, in honour of the arsehole that tried to kill me. I think Joe would approve.

Kudret TezriEdit

Year 3 of the Sixth Age

My lord. Maybe ex-lord now. I'm not really sure. Gephis'vros destroyed his estate with the false Ptolemos/sacred clay thing (it's complicated) and since then I haven't heard from him or his thugs. I guess he might have been killed in the attack or perhaps he just hasn't resumed contact with the "pretty northern girl with a personality to match an ugthanki's backside."

Now, Kudret may have been a bit of a fop but at least he had ambition as well as a lot of gold. It was his riches I bed him for; spent hardly a fourth of it during my stay in Misca (Kudret's hometown in the Kharidian) thanks to him and Gephis'vros producing and distributing their supply of demonsbreath. I wonder if there's anything left in the ruins of his estate...

So... Kudret's gone. Apparently some slavers caught him after he fled Misca. He died working the fields for some desert lordling too stupid to realise his slave was a fellow lord as well. Or maybe they knew and just didn't care. I mean, Kudret was an arsehole but he didn't deserve that. No one does.


Year 3 of the Sixth Age

Luòkèrén. Human, I think. Sometimes I forget he's even there. Real quiet. Fan of the colour orange.

Magus ConcendoEdit

Year 4 of the Sixth Age

I don't know where to begin. I'm furious at the moment; the Godless once again played the part of heroes in the events that recently shook the very foundations of Falador itself. Meanwhile, I got to watch the price of partyhats plummet like a rock. I get why Magus has us watching, and even agree on how dangerous Sliske's machinations are, but seeing the order involving themselves like this, without me... I don't feel pride. My hands itch like they want to tear something apart. But Ptolemos' voice urges patience and restraint. I'm not charge anymore. Maybe it's for the best...


Year 3 of the Sixth Age

First Commander of the Godless. He's alright, I guess. Seems young like a lot of the other members I work with (or am I just old?) But he's proven he can lead us—for now. I can't help but wonder if he's got what it takes when the real war comes (do any of us?).

Goods news. Mark promoted me despite my "prolonged" absence. I'm now known as the Third Commander of the Godless. Funny how things work out. I don't know if I deserve this or not. It's weird being back now. But I won't fail them like I did the Hand. I can't even if I tried to. These guys are the only family I have left (you know, besides my actual family).

Year 4 of the Sixth Age

Another year has passed. I've been the Second Commander for some time now. Just means more paperwork. The First Commander keeps us working even with the silence regarding the gods' activities. I think he fancies me. I can't let myself get involved intimately with any of the order though. It would only make my duties muddled and more difficult. Besides, they're much too young for my tastes.

I don't know where we got them, but apparently the order's had dragon equipment for quite possibly years now (how did I miss that?). Mark let me have a dagger made from the rare metal and even offered to have armour specifically tailored for my frame. I'm very pleased. This doesn't mean much for what's to come but I won't forget the gesture and may offer him one of similar value. I hope he's as gracious a receiver as I am.

Our First Commander has fallen, slain by a mere goblin in single combat. I... I had no intention of allowing the fight to go as long as it did. My curse was meant only to weaken him enough so that I would have to intervene on his behalf. This Bigfist was stronger and faster than I or Mark anticipated. It was over the minute my superior's weapons were taken from him. I tried my best to claim his corpse, hoping to resuscitate him. It was for naught. Bigfist took his head as a trophy. I expect to be made First Commander in his place. This must suffice until I can properly attend to his body.

Those damn idiots! They thought I wouldn't notice them passing leadership of this order over to someone other than me. I may have been too occupied with Mark's corpse to attend the meeting, but I sure as hell plan on making it clear who will take Mark's place. This betrayal will not stand.

It would seem Mark's a fool in death as he was in life. How fortunate for him that this order has no shortage of fools. His spirit won't be lacking in company by any account. He dared challenge me from beyond the grave. So what if I went behind his back? He should never have agreed to that duel in the first place. I meant to prove a point, but the only thing Mark proved was how weak of a leader he was. Now I have to deal with a bloody investigation. I thought I made it obvious as to who would be the one steering us through this new age.

I've had the body dealt with and made sure the pieces are in place. This farce will be over with soon enough. If only I could say the same of the order's other issues.

Farce my arse.

Ming NobunagaEdit

Year 3 of the Sixth Age

I met Ming while in the Eastern Lands, in a region known as the Skull region or whatever the locals called it. He was straightforward and polite, but more importantly, he spoke the common tongue. Somehow we ended up saving a young girl from being drowned by her mother, and then got in a bar fight with a bunch of grey-robed clerics. Ming was a whirlwind of sword (katana/wackysashy wakizashi?) slices and slashes; the other guys didn't stand a chance. Thankfully he let me stay at his house for the night since I had no chimes and gold isn't as favoured as it is back home.


Year 3 of the Sixth Age

Packapucks Pakkapux is a druid I met when I was drunk as hell one night in Seers' Village. I can't really remember what we talked about, but I think we became friends afterwards. He's like most druids I've met, nothing exceptional.

An assassin snuck inside my family's old estate—a shape-shifter—using his form. Whoever it was nearly killed me. I'm keeping my eye on the druid in case he's a danger (or if he's really that unlucky).

Pakkapux hasn't been taking the news of Tuska well... Gods, he's almost as bad as my kids. I just wanted to yell at him (something like "Hello, we're all afraid of the spacefaring boar goddess! Some of us are just better at hiding it!"). Maybe going back home will ease his thoughts.

Ptolemy DeanEdit

Year 3 of the Sixth Age

Thank you, Ptolemy. You were right. I wish that wasn't the case. But know I'll keep your memory close, always. Stay with me.

Richard HainesEdit

Year 3 of the Sixth Age

Richard. Richie. My little brother. He should never have gone though what he did alone. Losing our parents, managing the estate... Despite all that he still found his "one true love." Of course, as the older sister, I was so jealous, and he knew it. He wouldn't stop teasing me whenever I came to visit. Gods, it feels like a lifetime ago. I still half expect to see him in Varrock with Donald... but then I remember the vampyres and the Meiyerditch slums. I remember cutting the wedding band from Don's bloated fingers and lying to Richie. Why can't I forgive myself for that?

I'm sorry, little brother. I know why you were at that church. You were always the good child, reciting your prayers and doing your chores. You deserved a long and happy life. When they told me about the riots and how you stood outside that church against the mobs... I was so angry at you. But I was also proud and still am to this day. I will always be proud of you, Richie. My little brother...

Rosaline HainesEdit

Note: 'Hunanfyfyrio... "To self-reflect"? Why does everything the elf suggest sound either ridiculous or painful? I guess it came out better than I thought it would...

Year 3 of the Sixth Age

Crippled. Scarred. Big nose. Crow's feet. That's what I see when looking into this stupid hunk of crystal. Just another thirty-year-old lady playing at being an adventurer. But I've survived so far, haven't I? Mahjarrat and Dragonkin, the second God Wars... I've seen three four gods dead, the return of the elves, and much more. Shouldn't I proud of my accomplishments? For heaven's sake, it's the Sixth Age! I mean, people don't often live long enough to even see a new age, let alone live it. I'm a bloody hero (of sorts)... though heroes don't let their loved ones down like I have. Huh... I guess I never really thought about how much my childhood heroes must have suffered (the stories conveniently leave those parts out) throughout their careers. It's not fair at all. It's not supposed to be. Gods, now I'm starting to sound like my father...

I don't think I've ever said goodbye to him or mom properly. I still hate myself for not going back home when that fever swept through (Richie sounded so scared in his letter, how did I ever say no?). Sometimes I wonder if by being there I could have kept them alive. I was just so angry (still am, although maybe not at them as much). Now I know they were just desperate (sound familiar?). Young, angry me wouldn't have it though. Maybe they understand now that I've restored the estate. It's not like it once was—and I doubt it ever will be since Richie sold off most of the property—but at least the manor and garden survive (remainder that I still need to hire a gardener; I loved that garden when I was a kid). I even managed to hire a lot of the staff from when my parents lived here (R.I.P. Old Lady Sweeney). Steward's still a pain in the arse, but the old master-at-arms is as handsome as ever.

My childhood home is gone. Steven is dead. I'm a gods-damned idiot.

Steven WeaverEdit

Year 3 of the Sixth Age

R.I.P., Steven. Sorry for being such a pain in the arse.

Temujin GreeneEdit

Year 3 of the Sixth Age

I met this man when I was made a slave for the Chosen Battalion. We tried to escape. I don't remember if he made it.

Tyler LockeEdit

Year 4 of the Sixth Age

Tyler is a moody child of the Godless and one of the better diviners within the order. I've been informed of his wight status, which could be the reason of his behaviour. I don't know whether he's being controlled by an outside party, but it could certainly explain his recent treasonous actions. I don't understand why Mark's given the boy so many chances. But then I understand what Tyler's going through more than anyone; an unlife is no life at all.

Tyler is loyal unlike most of the Godless. I have him collecting divine energy for my animation machines. Better to keep him busy than let word of his continued service to me reach the order's ears. Idle hands and all.


Year 4 of the Sixth Age

Vash is not a member of the Godless. I met him on Waiko when our ship ran aground (I don't want to get started on that mess). Suffice to say, Vash is a pleasant distraction and little more. Oddly enough, he reminds me of Joe...


Powerful shape-shifting sorcerers and all-around bad guys (especially the women).

Note: Avoid at any cost.


Year 3 of the Sixth Age

Arachnea... Of all the Mahjarrat I've had the misfortune of meeting, I would say Arachnea's the most dangerous. Azulra is predictably unpredictable, Ptolemos unable could finish anything he started; and as for the rest... I can't even remember their faces, let alone their names or accomplishments. Not for her, though. I don't need a reminder for what she's done (kidnapping and murder, among other things). I just don't understand her. She could have anything she wanted—no one would have been able to stop her—yet she relentlessly hounded Ptolemos every step of the way because... well, Hell, I don't know. Because she felt like it? Ptolemos always insisted she followed a god called Zaros (Alorah's "one true god"?). That might explain why she did what she'd done (Mahjarrat are weird like that) but it seems too simple for her, too... weak, I guess. I just have a feeling she's got more baggage than I do (and that's saying something). Still doesn't make me hate her any less than I already do.

Year 4 of the Sixth Age

I understand now. Ptolemos understood as well, in his own way, and never thought to share why Arachnea was as she is. It's not faith or loyalty that drove her all those years ago. It's a need, an obligation that couldn't be ignored. The Mahjarrat are not like us. They were made by something else, something entirely... alien. I get it now. She was like him, maybe even better because she knew how useless his fight was from the very beginning. The inevitability of fate, that which tied Ptolemos and the Mahjarrat with Zaros and even Seren. It is maternal, eternal. It is Mah, and nothing can change that. I pity them as I pity her.


Year 3 of the Sixth Age

Azulra (no, I won't write it here; she deserves something more colourful). Demon witch. Toadspawn. Queen Batshit Insane herself. Oh, how I suffered under her orders: I was tormented, humiliated, and—when my agony no longer amused her twisted mind—murdered. But then I came back, and she was the one dead and gone; in that moment, oh, I felt good. Even in my undead state it was like pure ecstasy. With life (unlife?) as excruciating as it was for me, gems like that made it so much more tolerable. But soon it grew worse, especially so after Ptolemos' magic—that which kept my body intact—left along with him. I quickly grew envious of Queen Batshit Insane, and thought perhaps she was the lucky one; after all, it was she who felt nothing (or so I thought at the time) while I endured within an unending nightmare.

Later, I made the mistake of fooling myself into believing Ptolemos was doing the right thing. Maybe he was. I guess it doesn't matter now nor then. I gave him possession of my body (worse than undeath), offered up the reigns, and then sat back and watched him obsess over the minutiae of those damned rifts. We shared a mind during those times; I foresaw what he planned on doing next but didn't do anything to stop it. So it was that I became an accessory in the revivification of the Queen Batshit Insane herself (ditched us right after without even a thank you).

I'd eventually encounter her again at sea where she and her demon pirate minions attempted to destroy me (for old time's sake, I guess). Now? For all I know, she could be dead or alive or somewhere in-between. Personally, I'm rooting for the in-between bit; gives me a chance to right a wrong and maybe make it up to the people for whom both she and I have crapped on over the years (more-so her than me but who's counting?).


Year 3 of the Sixth Age

You know, I never thought much of Kemses before now. It was usually Ptolemos who interacted with him, although I often served as a mediator between them whenever he was busy or indisposed. He is—or was—Zamorakian (I honestly don't know or care at this point), so one could say we shared a better understanding than most... or so I thought until he tried to have me killed by a couple of his own men (unless they weren't his men?). In any case, I'll need to keep a close eye on him and his men from now on should he try pulling anything like that on me again (seriously, what did I do?).

So, the bonehead thinks I killed Ptolemos. Great.

I'm convinced now that Kemses has gone mad. This marks the second time he's tried to kill me (an all-out assault on my family's home outside Varrock with a lot of fire and brutes). This is the last straw. If I can't dissuade him, then he must die.

I should have realised fighting fire with fire—against Kemses, of all people—was a stupid idea to begin with. He must have really cared about Ptolemos (not that he ever showed it) for all the trouble he went through trying to kill me. I didn't want to fight—I even said so to his skull face—but he left me with no option. It had to end between us, so I made sure he couldn't hurt me or my family ever again.

I should have slain Kemses when I had the chance those many months ago. Instead, like the fool I am, I imprisoned him far away, out of sight and mind, in case a situation arose demanding a captive Mahjarrat. He somehow escaped my wards (will review Ptolemos' notes for discrepancies in the glyphs later) and went after my children (in the process he inadvertently rescued them from their Bandosian kidnappers). Kemses then brought myself, Ptolemos, and a number of others into some sick game (I use this term lightly), which he thought was hilarious. Obviously the Mahjarrat had gone insane during his short imprisonment (a consequence of human error?); he became far too dangerous to let live and needed to be put down like the rabid dog he was.

Needless to say, Kemses is dead—the last victim of the nightmare he put me and my family through. I won't miss him and although Ptolemos has since held his tongue when pressed about him, I bet he's just as glad as I am to be rid of that nuisance.

You ask too much, Rosaline. Should I expect a treatise on the relationship you shared with your brother, were I to ask? Suffice it to say that Kemses was once my closest ally; a brother to replace the one I thought I'd lost so many centuries ago. In a world such as ours, that meant more to me than you could possibly imagine... especially so with us Dreams. —Ptolemos

Year 4 of the Sixth Age

It would seem this nightmare yet continues. I hate being made a fool of, especially by Mahjarrat. I swore I wouldn't get involved with their kind, but Kemses is a loose end I don't want following me around for the rest of my life. I'm sorry, Ptolemy... Damn it.

Marethyu and ScorpianaEdit

Year 3 of the Sixth Age

Marethyu and Scorpiana are a Mahjarrat couple (with kids) who were involved in the whole Mahjarrat army thing with Ptolemos back before he was torn apart by a dragonkin. I dealt very little with either of them and I'm pretty sure that they don't like me very much. Marethyu always seemed flaky to me. Scorpiana? Not so much. These two wanted to kill me even after what I went through to get Ptolemos to where he could destroy Lashual and his whole destroy-the-world plot. They had all the time and patience in the world when Alorah kept asking them for favours though. Ungrateful pricks.


Year 3 of the Sixth Age

Penindasan (a.k.a. Cassie) is a cousin of Azulra and Ptolemos. Joy. I met her once whe she came to Ymgorffori and asked about the other Mahjarrat. She actually paid me for snitching on them; everything I knew, as well as what Ptolemos wrote down, in exchange for runestones and gold. Not a bad deal, but as far as I know, she could be as crazy as Azulra and twice as bossy as Ptolemos.

Cassie came by again. She sensed tiny Ptolemos (only one so far to notice) and wanted to know what the hell I was thinking. I didn't have an answer for her (still working on it actually), so I gave her some bullshit about treating him as he treated me. She bought it (maybe?) and left with little more than a warning about the others learning of him. I don't think Ptolemos was very thrilled to see her. Like I care.


Year 3 of the Sixth Age

I'll be honest, I've been putting off writing this for days now. It's just... too much to say and not enough words in the entire vocabulary for me to write it all down. But I've never been one to back down from a challenge (not sure if that's a good or bad thing), and putting this all down really has helped me a lot (I guess some elves do know what they're doing after all). So, here goes...

Ptolemos the Mahjarrat; he was God to me. Before I found him (or he found me), I was losing my faith—in Zamorak, the order, et cetera—so when this imposing red-robed man suddenly showed up and claimed himself an emissary of our god, I thought to myself, "This is it. This is why I'm here". I didn't care that he killed my brothers, but I did voice my concerns about Fykeric leading us; Rekhyt (Ptolemos' then alias) would have made a better leader than the timid isolationist we got (not going to get started on that again). So I kept my mouth shut afterwards, did my duties like a good little cleric, and never acted out... until I received a "vision" from Zamorak himself (how could I have been so naive?). Funny how that turned out.

In my vision, I saw a lot of things: Rekhyt was Ptolemos, Ptolemos was a Mahjarrat, and I saw what he wanted from me. But more than that, I saw myself leading his armies; him remaking the world, rewriting history itself—and beside him?—me. I could see the respect he had for me in his eyes, the fear of our enemies in theirs, and the power I could have by his side. It was enough to make me lose faith in Zamorak entirely—and realise how much I had in Ptolemos, my new master henceforth. What can I say, I was desperate (a recurring problem it seems) and saw an out. How I searched for what else I had seen—the dwarf miner's journal—an account which held value beyond measure to Ptolemos... By the time I found it, I was hooked, plain and simple.

I did a lot of things in the name of Ptolemos; I've fought, killed, been beaten down, and then killed myself, most of which I've already written about, so I'll spare you the details (who's even reading this other than myself?). It was the Mahjarrat whom I suffered from the most, Arachnea being the top offender (if you ask me now, I'd say Ptolemos was obsessed with her). I didn't want to keep going—I needed to—especially after seeing that vision. However, as it so happens, I really didn't. We accomplished nothing together; he kept disappearing and I kept "fighting the good fight" (what does that even mean anymore?).

But with each disappearance, I grew more dogged than ever to find him (I guess that says a lot about me). Inside, though, it took its toll. I grew sick with it; he would go, only to later reappear expecting total obedience as though he had never been gone in the first place. Same thing happened with Alorah and Ptolemy (as much as it pains me to admit it). That's why I chose my kids over the chance of reviving him. No chance in Hell am I ever leaving them like they left me.

I guess you could say I'm through with Ptolemos—and I am—but also the Mahjarrat in general. I'm heeding Ptolemy's advice (sort of). No more Mahjarrat business; I'm staying well clear of their kind. Instead, I'm focusing on my life, my children, and the godless cause. Ptolemos used me for years, but I'm sick of being used and abused. I could say a lot more about him but who knows, maybe wherever Mahjarrat go after death, he's approving of my actions as I speak (not that I really care either way).

Curse these insufferable tiny hands! Would that I could... Ah, but it makes no matter. I am returned to this world, and diminutive or no, I have my magic. The foolish Haines would have me serve as guardian of her children, abominations though they are. Me—Ptolemos—reduced to a nursemaid. Inconceivable! Have I not provided enough for her? She would have had a position of great prestige in my new world, as it were, governing humankind and their affairs. But, so be it. I will play her little game. Let it be known that I, Ptolemos, acknowledge Rosaline Haines' past services and appreciate the gravity of this charge; as such, I will endeavour to fulfil it as directed, or until such a time as I am incapable of doing so. I will not be remembered as an empty lord. —Ptolemos

Ptolemos, if you're reading this, then you're a damned fool. Did you really think I wouldn't notice the wet ink stains? Stop reading my records and return to your duties. I'm serious. Don't make me lock these away from your greedy, pygmy sized palms.

Ha! She thought a padlock could keep me from her journals. How primitive of you, Rosaline. I taught you better than that. Not to mention the petty jab at my stature. Oh, the gall. If the void could not contain me, my dear master, then what makes you think you can? —Ptolemos

I won't say it again, you little Mahjarrat. Stop. Going through. My things!

Come now, Rosaline. I enjoy our little game. You failing spectacularly to keep me from your journals while I perform marvelous feats of magic t

The little bastard! Caught him red-handed, writing again. Used one of his own spells to stun him. We'll see how he likes a little time out in the town well. That should teach him from breaking inside my private chamber.

𝒪𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓅𝓅𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒷𝑒 𝓈𝑜 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝓈𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓈𝒻𝓎𝒾𝓃𝑔. —𝒮𝑒𝓇𝒶𝒻𝒾𝓃𝑜

Year 4 of the Sixth Age

Ptolemos is gone. I... had no choice. Mah was dead. The elder god that made the Mahjarrat would threaten his people no more.... yet it came at a cost greater than he or I could imagine. I don't know what, how or why it happened, but Ptolemos was fading, and quickly. I tried asking, begging him to tell me what I could do to stop it. I don't think he could me through whatever process was taking him. I grew paralyzed watching Ptolemos just dissolve before my very eyes. There was only one thing I could think of that would save him. I think he knew as well. Before I swallowed him whole, Ptolemos spoke his last words: "To Err is Divine. Know this." What more can be said? I will carry your legacy onward, Ptolemos, and see it through to the end.


Year 3 of the Sixth Age

I didn't even go looking for this one. After receiving word about helping with some small assignment in Rimmington, I headed there immediately; the place had suffered before and I thought it was some leftover goblins again from the battle between Bandos and Armadyl. But instead, I found two guys and an icyene looking for a rock. Imagine my surprise when we discovered the rock was actually some kind of statue guarded by a wight. And then (wait for it), after distracting it long enough for one of the men to touch the statue, he transforms into a Mahjarrat right there in front of us. It gets better: as it turns out, his wife (who is also a Mahjarrat) attacked us soon after; we put her down. Afterwards, I decided I'd had enough unpredictability for one day and left, but not before Ralphamic (his name) cast some spell that lets me see into the Shadow Realm (I still don't know what to think about it all).


Nasty winged bloodsuckers and the undisputed overlords of Morytania.

Lothorian ForyxEdit

Year 3 of the Sixth Age

Lothorian is a vampyre I met when Ptolemos was using my body as a vessel for his... whatever that was. We worked together to restore Azulra's body (worst mistake I've ever made). Ptolemos stitched my body back together from the pieces recovered after the assault on Kemses' fortress; Lothorian needed only a sample of Azulra's blood. How powerful must you be to accomplish that? In exchange for the act, Ptolemos and I recovered a piece of blisterwood (one of the few things vampyres are weak to apparently) from Arachnea's stores and had it destroyed by dropping it down an energy rift, and that was that. I didn't see or hear of him until two years ago when the vampyres took my brother's husband across the Salve and made him one of them. I learned it was the Foryx who were responsible. Stupid bloodsuckers... I can't ever forgive what they made Richie go through. Whatever happens, I hope Lothorian suffers as he made my family suffer.


Parts of the world—and those not of it—that I've been to and seen with my own two eyes.


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Note: I didn't even know I could write like this. Maybe it's not so bad after all—besides, putting this down on paper does feel good.

Year 3 of the Sixth Age

Hell, the Underworld, the Realm of the Dead... Old men with grey in their beards argue over what to call this place; it's all the same to me. Unlike them, I've been there and know its true nature: it is darkness incarnate. Once I had passed, Death itself came forward and guided me far away, deep beneath earth and stone, to a place filled with fog and shadow. I saw others there as well... vestigial figures of what we once were, garbed in robes of flitting twilight. I recall no pain, only a chilling sense of dread. The only sound was our soft murmurs and shallow breathing. We were drawn forward across a stone bridge (below us a river spanning as far as the eye could see) by a light, sallow but not unkind. Out of the gloom rose Icthlarin, a god of the desert and shepherd of souls.

I'm uncertain whether Icthlarin spoke to us. My last thoughts and experiences distracted my already troubled mind (courtesy of Queen Batshit Insane and her demons). We were given passage across the bridge, assisted by this god through the underworld. So natural it was for us to follow: our collective fear of the shadows—of the things prowling just beyond our sight—drove us ever forward... I'm still unable to recall what happened next, but the wails of the lost haunt my dreams me even now.

Strange, terrifying beasts drove at us from every direction. I saw them devour several others before Icthlarin fought them off... but by then it was too late. My resolve broke and I ran, driven half mad by fear and desperation. It was all too easy to become lost in the darkness, the very same place that the monsters dwelled. It was all too easy to find the light of Icthlarin's torch. Yet with every step I made in its direction the futility of my efforts became ever more apparent. I knew in my heart (or whatever the ghostly equivalent is) that I would be forever lost once his light finally winked out.

I was not alone in that darkness. Everywhere around me I heard the shrieks and cries of the unlucky few who hadn't (or couldn't) escape the clutches of their devourers. I knew my cries would soon be joining them unless I could be free of the that overwhelming blackness. so I made the only decision I knew to make and threw myself over the bridge. I can't describe how cold the water was. The pull of the river's current drew me away from Icthlarin and the monsters. That was all I needed to know.

Somehow I'd found the shore. The black sand was warmer than anything I'd ever felt before, but I knew couldn't stay there. I had to go or the monsters might have found me, so I began to wander aimlessly, avoiding any and all sources of light that didn't glow as the desert god's torch had (hellfire pits?). I suspected these lights attracted more than just the occasional wandering spirits. Not once did I uncover any sign, hint, or indication of a trail Icthlarin might have left behind for stragglers or lost souls to follow. I was forgotten—a piece of flotsam cast adrift amidst an abyss of dark nothingness. I grew afraid... and then I opened my eyes.

The first face I saw was Ptolemos'. The Mahjarrat stood watch over my body—my body—his face aglow from working the magic that had drawn my soul back from the Hell. In that moment I knew, for better or worse, I was finally safe from those monsters lurking hungrily in the dark... only to realise I would become one who hid within the light.


Year 3 of the Sixth Age

Freneskae is—or was—the birthplace of the Mahjarrat. Alorah tricked me into going there with Ptolemy. She said it would help him ("him" being her father—it's complicated), but turns out it only made things worse than they were. The place was a living nightmare; if the weather wasn't trying to kill you, the wildlife was, and vice versa: muspah (deadly slug monsters) and lava geysers, freak thunderstorms and poisonous gases; it has pretty much everything you'd expect a Mahjarrat's home to have (but seriously: slug monsters?). We were lucky to survive. Still, I went there undead, yet when I got back I was alive. ALIVE. That doesn't happen. Something there must have—I don't know—kick-started my heart? Since Ptolemos' notes were lacking there, I haven't got a clue... but I know enough to not look a gift horse in the mouth. I'm more than grateful for whatever happened there (though you couldn't pay me enough to go back).

Godless HallEdit

Year 4 of the Sixth Age

The Godless Hall is the order's very own floating fortress in the sky. I've seen a lot of citadels during my travels (and destroyed more than a few myself). The Hall was different: it was ours—a home for more than a hundred godless, including myself and my family—and now it's in ruins because of Mephiles, another self-proclaimed god (as if Yokrad wasn't enough to deal with). It was over an artefact of power his, a False Eye. It cost us many lives and resources beyond measure. Mephiles' forces caught our guards by surprise. I'm ashamed to admit that my first course of action was to evacuate my kids. I'm their Second Commander and I was selfish... It won't happen again. Mephiles might have won this fight, but I won't give him another chance to destroy my home or hurt my family twice.


Year 3 of the Sixth Age

Mazcab. Such a strange word in our tongue—hardly sounds proper enough to be the name of an entire world—yet it somehow fits. I was only there for a moment (thankfully the First Commander gave me leave to return home to my kids), but what I saw was... otherwordly. Imagine the Kharidian stretched beyond sight and sound, extending forevermore in every direction. That's Mazcab, and it's home to the cutest race of small frogmen you'll ever seen. Unfortunately for the Goebies (go-bees), they've been plagued by airut ever since Tuska last destroyed their world ages ago (although it's in remarkable condition considering it was eaten by a god-beast). Bloody airut... I'd slay every last one of them if I could, but it's a fool's hope. Besides, this isn't our fight—I even said as much to the First Commander. I don't know whether he agreed or not. The Goebies need to either learn how to end their own battles themselves or not at all (sounds a bit like the Zamorakian inside me). I hate it but I'm sure as Hell not risking my life for another's world when I have my own worth fighting for (I have to admit though: I've seen blue skies, black and green, and just about most in-betweens, but I've never seen pink ones (sunsets here must be absolutely breathtaking).


Year 3 of the Sixth Age

Morytania is a horrible place; a home for monsters like vampyres, werewolves, and more. I avoid going there unless absolutely necessary. It's one of my least favourite places (top five contender), and I've only been there twice. I know enough about Morytania—I was born in Varrock after all—to stay well clear of it. Unfortunately, the best those born there can hope for is a quick and lasting death.

Outer SpaceEdit

Year 3 of the Sixth Age

Space. SPACE. I'm in space! Holy shit I'm

I need to explain what just happened since I'm still in shock and awe. So, turns out the First Commander was right when he had us investigate the airut (purple bull like beastmen with acidic spit). We found out that they worship a goddess called Tuska. It fit with some ancient Guthixian lore (something about his homeworld, I'll get to that later), right? Well, an astro-something wizard later revealed that a large celestial (his words, not mine) object was heading straight for us—and that it was alive. Unfortunately, I was attacked around this time and didn't wake up until after they learned it was Tuska (I did have an awful nightmare though; the others said it was a vision everyone had and was somehow related to her approach). A week later and we've actually secured access to her. I was scared as hell when Mark said we were going up there (who wouldn't be?) but orders are orders. I let the others go first though, just in case the lodestone connection was faulty (how did they even manage to get one up here anyway?). However, once I'd gone through, I was left speechless.

Space. I was actually in space (well, aboard a boar-like goddess however many times my size). They hadn't told me how different everything would look from the nightsky we know. I still gape at it all when I go up there. It's just so beautiful... and cold. Very cold. Anyway, I left soon after that and have only been up a few times since. I've heard rumours about the other gods' factions and our own meeting to discuss a possible alliance to defeat Tuska before she gets close. And I'm actually hoping they work it out somehow; she's huge and there's no chance any of us can take her out by ourselves. I know, I've seen her with my spyglass and have walked on her backside. They say she ate worlds like Guthix's in the past—laid them entirely to ruin—and that pieces are dragged with her even now; the airut were just one of the signs of her coming and there could be more supposedly. Doomsayers everywhere are having a field day, I bet, but this doesn't excite me one bit. I'm actually scared... At least she's a foe we can fight. Rest assured, I'll be up there soon and doing what I can to take her down before she can even think about eating our home.

I miss space.

Wushanko IslesEdit

Year 4 of the Sixth Age

White sand beaches, crystal-clear waters and not a god in sight. I like this place already. It's a real shame about all the slavers, pirates, sea monsters, assassins, warmongering khans and gods know what else. Still... I could use a new summer house.


Year 3 of the Sixth Age

Ymgorffori (I still don't know if I'm pronouncing it right) is a small community/encampment beneath the elven city of Prifddinas. A bunch of us—humans, dwarves, and gnomes—made the journey through the Arandar with some elves as guides. They let us have some land to ourselves, said if there was any trouble we could call on them. I don't like the idea of an elf as "Big Brother", so I've more or less kept to myself (besides that, I'm pretty sure there's a few elves who don't want us here). It's not much, but it serves as a safe place for the kids to grow for now.

Screw the elves and their crystal city. Ymgorffori is nothing but a graveyard now thanks to their inaction and a certain dead god. I'm pretty sure it's haunted, too. Demons lurk in the caves beneath it as well. I can hear them hissing and smell the sulfur from the well. Damn it.


Year 3 of the Sixth Age

I had the hardest time getting the spelling right (thank you, Ptolemos' notes). Eventually I found a passing reference here and there. Despite only having seen a little of the world (Yokrad's settlement of New Yok and its environs), I can safely say Yu'biusk's very much dead. I can't say I'm surprised after learning of Bandos' history there (and people still think gods are a good thing). Just breathing the air there... it could put you on the ground in only a matter of minutes, if not sooner. I was lucky for the magic around New Yok (so are a lot of his followers there, I'm sure; despite their Bandosian origins, the city is one of the more organised I've come across).

Transcripts Edit



Notable military communiqué and long-winded memos to and from important people.

Cause for ActionEdit

Note: I won't let these gangs tear my city apart. Not when I can do something about it.

This is an urgent message to the people of Varrock and its ruling government: You are under serious threat. Make no mistake, what the press so eagerly tries to dismiss as gang violence is anything but. Scores of murderous fanatics prowl the streets for victims so they might shed blood in the name of their gods. The Godless urge definitive action be taken now before the crisis spills beyond Varrock's walls and further afield, where it might take root and perpetuate a war no sane person would want.

I lost my brother to the city's last religiously fuelled conflict. Needless to say, the order and I are fully committed to stopping these murderers before more innocent lives are lost. No one deserves to go through the pain of losing a loved one to these terrorists. If any of you reading are the least bit concerned, I ask that you push for an immediate response from the local authorities and inform them of any suspicious activity witnessed. Inaction won't save our city. But together, we can.

From the HeartEdit

Note: No matter what I believe personally, the Heart can't be taken by the gods or their followers. This is too important for our cause and could spell disaster for us all.

So it continues. We and our world are once again at risk of abuse and ruination. In an act of unbelievable greed and selfishness, religious extremists of the elven goddess Seren, the chaos-loving Zamorak, the dark lord Zaros, and the insane Sliske have taken up arms in the Kharidian Desert where they currently slaughter one another to seize control of the very Heart of RuneScape. "But why is this important," you ask? "How does this affect me?"

The core of RuneScape has been exposed. One of the largest, if not the largest, reserves of a magical power source known as anima pools there, drawn from across the kingdoms. The gods would have this power for themselves despite being keenly aware that anima is the very life blood of RuneScape; every living creature, from the smallest tadpole to the mightiest oak, are touched by the Anima Mundi.

Even the most minute shift of this collective life force would have grievous repercussions: crops everywhere would wither and die, our children stillborn or malformed at birth. The very earth itself may grow twisted and lifeless just as the Wilderness or Lumbridge Crater are now. Should one of these factions were to succeed in their hostile takeover of the Heart, they might even use it as a staging ground for further conquest and terrorism against the noble and proud people of the Kharidian and beyond.

This cannot stand. I implore you—the order implores you—to continue your support in our fight against these horrific extremists. Mortals have much and more to lose in this fight than any other that's come before. I ask you now to become the World Guardian your friends, your families, and your homes deserve... or there may not be a world left to save.

Godless PropagandaEdit

Note: I meant every word of it.

We've all seen some serious shit since Guthix's assassination, ranging from a giant world-devouring space boar to whatever that arsehole Sliske likes to pretend he's playing at. Out of everything the Sixth Age has thrown at us though, one thing's for certain: it's the common people of this world whose lives are being ruined as a result of the gods and their "divine" actions.

This world became forever changed when the gods returned. There's no denying that. Power on a scale we haven't seen for ages suddenly presented itself for all to see. It made history as the Battle of Lumbridge, and the world and its people bled for it. Hundreds, if not thousands, lost their lives fighting for what they thought was a righteous cause. I challenge anyone who believes in that "cause" to go and stand among the ghosts of that crater and convince themselves it was worth the price those men and women paid.

The Godless are different. We aren't blind to the troubles the gods leave in their wake, nor are the people of RuneScape. We more than any other fought for all the world in the skies above against the goddess known as Tuska and demonstrated beyond the shadow of a doubt that mortals can—and will—use force to put an end to any threat against our home. Thanks the efforts of our greatest warriors the earth itself rose up in defiance of Tuska and landed the finishing blow that struck her down and put an end to her terror once and for all.

Unlike what the public perception might have you think, the Godless don't want to stop you from worshipping your gods. The Godless don't want you to take up arms against your your friends, your family or neighbours. We only ask that you give us the opportunity to show just how much we care for you, your lives and your individual freedoms. For those who do support us despite the great risks and prejudice they themselves face, I want to personally convey just how much we appreciate your contributions. The Godless couldn't continue their pursuit for the rights of every mortal without them. I and the order sincerely thank you and hope for your continued support in the face of further adversity.

Some of us never really had a choice to make in this new age. It's inside our blood to rebel. Others had no alternative. For them it was a matter of self-preservation. But for those of you who had to choose, and chose right... make no mistake, you're the real deal; World Guardians in all but name.

Letter to the Defenders of TuskaEdit

Note: There is little else to be said. They will either heed my words or choose not to. That it's their choice is what truly matters.

To the defenders of the World Devourer, 

I was once one of you, and still am in my own way. I fought and bled for the order, giving without expectation. I've never sought your death no matter who or what says otherwise. You are my family. It pains me that we must come to blows over this, but there is no other path. I beg of you: evacuate Tuska while you still can. If not for me, for your families. I've experienced the loss of a loved one and would not wish it upon your own for that very reason. There is no glory to be had dying over a corpse. I seek neither godhood nor power; I cannot stress that enough. Our world and all life whom share it are more precious than even the largest hydrix. Consider my words.


Rosaline Eloise Haines

Letter to the Godless CouncilEdit

Note: I doubt anything will come of this, but you never know what could happen. Perhaps Biehn or Frank have a change of heart.

Dear founders Biehn and Kara-Meir, interim Exarch Frank Dovino, et al.,

First and foremost, I want you all to know that I am alive and well, and have taken refuge in Asgarnia for the time being. I should hope as well that the council has been made aware of the incident involving myself, Dark, Silver and a Mahjarrat outside the citadel portal. This all but confirms the involvement of Mephiles Sol in the events that followed the death of our former commander. I look forward to hearing of my exoneration and want to thank the council for making the right decision. We cannot allow ourselves to be divided, not at such a crucial hour in our order's history.

You will have noticed my absence from the citadel by now. I sincerely regret not being present at the time of my acquittal, but there are events unfolding that require the attention of your Exarch (Frank Dovino served us well and will continue to do so as our Field Marshal responsible for the order's diplomatic relations with foreign kingdoms and organisations). More than just the Chosen Battalion threatens our world and I intend on spearheading the campaign to stem the tide of terror and tribulation that plagues mortals everywhere. You will be hearing of my efforts soon. I expect the order's full cooperation in our future endeavors.

I wish you all the best and am looking forward to leading the order once more when the time comes.

Yours faithfully,

Exarch Rosaline Eloise Haines

Letters to SantaEdit

Note: Lin and Joe insisted we write Santa. I couldn't refuse them.

"deer santa claws,

i wannt a sward!


Linold Haines"

"Dear Santy Claus,

i want the ghossts to go a way. and a new dollie. and dress.

Thank yew,

Joanne Haines"


I demand sweets. All of them.

Eagerly awaiting,

Tiny Ptolemos

P.S.: Lyric wants socks for his feet (four-legged) and a pair of green mittens.

P.P.S.: Joe Barbaria wants "a [expletive]load of booze," and "one of those fancy one-handed repeater crossbows."

"Dear Santa,

The twins won't rest until I've written my "Letter to Santa," so here it is. The tree's all set for ya, big guy. They made me promise to leave out enough cookies and milk for you. Guess who gets to eat them all?

I don't know where these letters will end up but whoever's reading this... Merry Christmas.


Rosaline Haines"

"𝒟𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝒮𝒶𝓃𝓉𝒶 𝒞𝓁𝒶𝓊𝓈,

𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝓅 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒶𝓈 𝓂𝓎𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝓇𝒾𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝓉𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒶𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝑔𝒾𝒸-𝒹𝒾𝓈𝓇𝓊𝓅𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓂𝒶𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓈 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝓃𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓁𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓈, 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓂𝓎 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼'𝒹 𝒷𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒶 𝓎𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝑒𝓍𝓅𝑒𝒸𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝑔𝒾𝒻𝓉𝓈.

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒶𝓃 𝒶𝒹𝒹𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝒶𝓁 𝓎𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓂𝑒𝓃𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝓈𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝒾𝓂𝓅 𝓉𝓇𝓎𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓁.


𝒮𝑒𝓇𝒶𝒻𝒾𝓃𝑜 𝒱𝑒𝓁𝒶𝓇𝑒"

Mahjarrat ReportsEdit

Note: Gods but does my wrist ache... Anyway, I've included my own description of the reports below. Why? You should have seen how well I stacked those scrolls. It was unbelievable!

"Several sheaves of loosely bound scrolls are haphazardly stacked one on top of the other, each bearing a letter signifying their corresponding subject in alphabetical order. Whoever wrote this seemed in a hurry, their handwriting like chicken scratch but with surprisingly few spelling and grammatical errors throughout. Overall, the material was concise and to the point, although the author expressed how self-opinionated he or she was with the presence of acerbic footnotes."


Name: Akrenos.

Known Aliases: Unknown.

Known Loyalties and Relationships: Unclear, suspected connections with Jhaktos and Marethyu.

Location(s) Known to Frequent: Freneskae, the North.

Status: Alive?

Estimated Threat Level: Average.

Note: According to his notes, Akrenos claimed Ptolemos "had something few of our kind appreciated." Whatever that means.

Alorah Taredi

Name: Alorah Taredi

Known Aliases: Unknown.

Known Loyalties and Relationships: Zaros, known connection to Arachnea, and the daughter of Ptolemos.

Location(s) Known to Frequent: Freneskae, the North. 

Status: Dead. 

Estimated Threat Level: None.

Note: Crazy Zarosian fanatic and halfbreed. I killed her. You're welcome.


Name: Altanquin.

Known Aliases: Unknown.

Known Loyalties and Relationships: Zaros?

Location(s) Known to Frequent: The North.

Status: Alive?

Estimated Threat Level: Low.

Note: Never met him. Ptolemos didn't much like him after he tried betraying him and his allies.


Name: Arachnea.

Known Aliases: Leila Kala Aren.

Known Loyalties and Relationships: Zaros, in an intimate relationship with Evgeni Avencianci.

Location(s) Known to Frequent: Aspera Tower, the Kharidian Desert, the North.

Status: Alive.

Estimated Threat Level: High.

Note: Watch her. She's as slippery as a greased kebbit, powerful enough to gain Ptolemos' respct, and not above kidnapping children either.


Name: Azulra Queen Batshit Insane.

Known Aliases: Queen Batshit Insane.

Known Loyalties and Relationships: Zaros, cousin to Strabach and Ptolemos, and Yurlungur's daughter.

Location(s) Known to Frequent: The Kharidian Desert, the Wilderness, the North.

Status: Alive.

Estimated Threat Level: High.

Note: You know her. As Ptolemos wrote: "She's passionate, impulsive, and one of the more unpredictable Dreams I've met." Enough said. Oh, did I mention she's insane?


Name: Baylon.

Known Aliases: Unknown.

Known Loyalties and Relationships: Unclear.

Location(s) Known to Frequent: The North.

Status: Dead.

Estimated Threat Level: None.

Note: Sacrificed at a rejuvenation ritual. Not much else to say. 


Name: Crokum.

Known Aliases: Unknown.

Known Loyalties and Relationships: Himself.

Location(s) Known to Frequent: Freneskae, the North.

Status: Dead.

Estimated Threat Level: None.

Note: Some Mahjarrat brought back from Freneskae that Ptolemos and Marethyu conscripted. He got killed after trying to betray them, the idiot.


Name: Dissidious.

Known Aliases: Unknown.

Known Loyalties and Relationships: Unclear.

Location(s) Known to Frequent: Off-realm, the North.

Status: Alive?

Estimated Threat Level: Low.

Note: Has a realm of his own according to Ptolemos' notes. Whatever he did there to Ptolemos made him very angry. Wonder what it was.


Name: Drachmus.

Known Aliases: Unknown.

Known Loyalties and Relationships: Zamorak.

Location(s) Known to Frequent: The North.

Status: Alive?

Estimated Threat Level: Low.

Note: Him being Zamorakian is about the most interesting thing I could find.


Name: Ellie.

Known Aliases: Unknown.

Known Loyalties and Relationships: Unclear.

Location(s) Known to Frequent: The North.

Status: Alive?

Estimated Threat Level: Low.

Note: O.K., just Ellie the halfbreed it is.

Evgeni Avencianci

Name: Evgeni.

Known Aliases: Unknown.

Known Loyalties and Relationships: Zaros, in an intimate relationship with Arachnea.

Location(s) Known to Frequent: The Kharidian Desert, the North.

Status: Alive?

Estimated Threat Level: Average.

Note: Ptolemos thought of him as lazy and eccentric. He obviously has poor taste if he's with Arachnea. Don't tell her I said that.


Name: Izachera.

Known Aliases: Unknown.

Known Loyalties and Relationships: Godless.

Location(s) Known to Frequent: Asgarnia, the North.

Status: Alive?

Estimated Threat Level: Low.

Note: I think I saw him once with Ptolemos. That's really all I have to say.


Name: Jarenthar.

Known Aliases: Unknown.

Known Loyalties and Relationships: Unclear, Marethyu's brother.

Location(s) Known to Frequent: The North.

Status: Alive?

Estimated Threat Level: Low.

Note: He seemed O.K., if a bit submissive. Ptolemos' notes says, "His allegiance... is to himself and his brother rather than any god."


Name: Jhaktos.

Known Aliases: Unknown.

Known Loyalties and Relationships: Godless, suspected connections with Akrenos and Marethyu.

Location(s) Known to Frequent: Freneskae, Misthalin, the North.

Status: Alive?

Estimated Threat Level: Average.

Note: He and Akrenos were on Freneskae together. I met him again when he worked with Nevermind.


Name: Kemses.

Known Aliases: Uknown.

Known Loyalties and Relationships: Zamorak, known connections with Ptolemos and Thane Nol.

Location(s) Known to Frequent: The North.

Status: Alive Dead.

Estimated Threat Level: None.

Note: He and Ptolemos were allies once. Then he got angry with me, so I killed him. Don't be like Kemses, OK?


Name: Kisbeth.

Known Aliases: Unknown.

Known Loyalties and Relationships: Unclear.

Location(s) Known to Frequent: Kandarin, the North.

Status: Alive?

Estimated Threat Level: Average.

Note: Ptolemos seemed to like her well enough. " the mysterious Arachnea, her very presence commands your attention."


Name: Lazarus.

Known Aliases: Unknown.

Known Loyalties and Relationships: Godless.

Location(s) Known to Frequent: Asgarnia, the North.

Status: Alive?

Estimated Threat Level: Low.

Note: Another godless Mahjarrat it seems. Ptolemos never heard from him again.

Lord Hol-lis

Name: Lord Hol-lis.

Known Aliases: Unknown.

Known Loyalties and Relationships : Zamorak, known connection with Zantik.

Location(s) Known to Frequent: Asgarnia, the North.

Status: Alive?

Estimated Threat Level: Low.

Note: Seriously, "Lord Hol-lis?"


Name: Marethyu.

Known Aliases: Unknown.

Known Loyalties and Relationships: Unclear, has a brother named Jarenthar, and is in an intimate relationship with Scorpiana.

Location(s) Known to Frequent: Morytania, the North.

Status: Alive?

Estimated Threat Level: Low.

Note: He's a flake. Abandoned Ptolemos' cause the moment he died. Did have access to a portal to Freneskae last time we met.


Name: Ptolemos.

Known Aliases: The Bane of Zamorak, the Emissary, Ptolemy Dean, Rekhyt.

Known Loyalties and Relationships: Godless, has a brother named Strabach, an uncle called Yurlungur, and is Azulra's cousin, as well as known connections with Kemses and Thane Nol.

Location(s) Known to Frequent: Asgarnia, the North, Misthalin.

Status: Dead.

Estimated Threat Level: Low None.

Note: My former master, but you already know this. Yes, he's dead. No, he's not coming back... I don't think.


Name: Penindasan.

Known Aliases: Cassie.

Known Loyalties and Relationships: Unclear, is a cousin of Azulra, and has an uncle named Yurlungur.

Location(s) Known to Frequent: The North.

Status: Alive.

Estimated Threat Level: Low

What follows is a crudely drawn Mahjarrat's face with an exaggerated grin on its face. "Well, hello there!" is scribbled on the margin.


Name: Raine.

Known Aliases: Unknown.

Known Loyalties and Relationships: Zamorak.

Location(s) Known to Frequent: The North.

Status: Alive?

Estimated Threat Level: Low.

Note: Nothing else. Sorry to "Raine" on your parade.


Name: Ralphamic.

Known Aliases: Unknown.

Known Loyalties and Relationships: Unclear, known connection with the Godless.

Location(s) Known to Frequent: Asgarnia, the North.

Status: Alive.

Estimated Threat Level: Average.

Note: He's a strange one. Really strange. Not like "powerful-strange," just... strange.


Name: Renac.

Known Aliases: Unknown.

Known Loyalties and Relationships: Unclear, known connection with Ptolemos.

Location(s) Known to Frequent: The North.

Status: Alive?

Estimated Threat Level: Average.

Note: Ptolemos and him were working together to "find an end to the rejuvnation rituals."

Sailas Agares

Name: Sailas Agares.

Known Aliases: Unknown.

Known Loyalties and Relationships: Unclear.

Location(s) Known to Frequent: Kandarin, the North.

Status: Alive?

Estimated Threat Level: Low.

Note: Strong enough to intimidate Ptolemos... in the Fifth Age.


Name: Scorpiana.

Known Aliases: Unknown.

Known Loyalties and Relationships: Unclear, in an intimate relationship with Marethyu.

Location(s) Known to Frequent: Morytania, the North.

Status: Alive.

Estimated Threat Level: Average.

Note: She never really liked me, I don't think. I'm pretty sure she makes the decisions for herself and Marethyu.


Name: Skolfarik.

Known Aliases: Unknown.

Known Loyalties and Relationships: Godless.

Location(s) Known to Frequent: Asgarnia, the North.

Status: Alive?

Estimated Threat Level: Low.

Note: Who?


Name: Strabach.

Known Aliases: Unknown.

Known Loyalties and Relationships: His brother, first and only, is cousin to Azulra, and has an uncle named Yurlungur.

Location(s) Known to Frequent: Asgarnia, the North, the Kharidian Desert.

Status: Alive?

Estimated Threat Level: Average.

Note: He was always loyal to his brother Ptolemos. Honestly, I'm surprised one of your kind could understand what family means.


Name: Tenebra Known Aliases: Unknown. 

Known Loyalties and Relationships: Unclear, known connection with Ptolemos. 

Location(s) Known to Frequent: The North. 

Status: Alive? 

Estimated Threat Level: Low. 

Note: Halfbreed who Ptolemos seemed fond of—if briefly.

Thane Nol

Name: Thane Nol.

Known Aliases: Unknown.

Known Loyalties and Relationships: Unclear, known connections with Kemses and Ptolemos.

Location(s) Known to Frequent: The North.

Status: Alive?

Estimated Threat Level: Low.

Note: Ptolemos' ally once upon a time.


Name: Tuwatu.

Known Aliases: Tuwa.

Known Loyalties and Relationships: Unclear.

Location(s) Known to Frequent: The North.

Status: Dead?

Estimated Threat Level: None.

Note: Ptolemos never mentioned her. His notes make it sound like they had a close relationship.


Name: Yurlungur Neraka.

Known Aliases: Yoral.

Known Loyalties and Relationships: Zaros, uncle to Ptolemos and Strabach, father of Azulra.

Location(s) Known to Frequent: The North.

Status: Dead.

Estimated Threat Level: None.

Note: I only met this guy twice. That was enough for me. I'm not sad he's gone.

Xolotl Tsutai

Name: Xolotl Tsutai.

Known Aliases: Unknown.

Known Loyalties and Relationships: Unclear.

Location(s): The Kharidian Desert, the North.

Status: Alive?

Estimated Threat Level: Low.

Note: I can't hardly pronounce his name, let alone find anything written about him.


Name: Zantik.

Known Aliases: Unknown.

Known Loyalties and Relationships: Unclear, known connection with Lord Hol-lis.

Location(s) Known to Frequent: Asgarnia, the North.

Status: Alive?

Estimated Threat Level: Low.

Note: Most likely Zamorakian. Mute?

Report on FreneskaeEdit

Note: It would be Freneskae, wouldn't it?



Mark. Freneskae is a dying world. I know because I've been there. I wasn't lying about what I said earlier. Freneskae should have killed Mephiles. It nearly killed me... and I was already dead.

It doesn't matter where you are, the very earth and air tries to kill you. Monstrous things roam the fissures and crags. Lightning storms unlike anything I've ever seen are a common occurrence. If I didn't know any better, I would swear the thunderclaps are Freneskae's final heartbeats, its dying intent being to take whatever else left alive on its surface with it.

I don't know why Mephiles would go there. But what I do know is this: Freneskae is unnatural. I was dead when I went there, yet when I got back... I was alive.

You know where to find me if you have further questions.

Second Commander Rosaline Haines




Figured I might as well jot down all the stuff I recorded with that magical device Ptolemos made me since I'm pretty convinced it's going to die any day now—and for posterity's sake or whatever. I've listed them chronologically to avoid further migraines.

Note: Do I really sound like that?

A Finality for Two Edit

Note: Has it really been two years since Ptolemos' murder? Gods, I sounded so desperate then—and Richie... I'm so sorry, little brother. I made a choice that day when I walked past our old playhouse; maybe if you hadn't seen me there you might still be alive with that idiot husband of yours.

32 Ire of Phyrrys, Year 1 of the Sixth Age

My master is lost, although not in the sense of how I know the word. He is... I'm not sure how to describe it. Enthralled? Enraptured? Those are the closest words I know that come close to describing him. Even as I speak, I watch him; his outline is indistinct, and were it not for the light emanating from the rift I would be unable to see him. I cannot help but worry.

Ever since our discovery of this place he has barely moved. The rift commands his every attention. I can recall similar instances like this from our time with similar rifts, but those instances never lasted this long. So far he has only broken from his stupor once, only to deliver me instructions. Considering his strange behaviour, I am more than willing to do as he asks with the hope of returning him to me.

36 Ire of Phyrrys, Year 1 of the Sixth Age

It took me several days, but I am successful. The tele-orbs have been crafted and enchanted, as well as the dagger. I return to him now.

38 Ire of Phyrrys, Year 1 of the Sixth Age

I must admit that I had expected my master to be well upon my return. However, it was not so. He remains where he stood the day I left. Despite my best efforts nothing seems to draw him out of wherever he is. I will wait for him.

I have discovered more instructions carved in the walls of the cave. I go now to do as he instructs.

3 Novtumber, Year 1 of the Sixth Age

The Mahjarrat have been informed of their task. They each took a tele-orb and left to do whatever they do. I have my doubts and suspicions, but they seem willing enough. Still, I don't trust any of them for a second. As for my master, he still remains unresponsive. I have searched the cave but found nothing new. I have faith though. He will come back to me. He has to.

9 Novtumber, Year 1 of the Sixth Age

My master has returned. He tells me it's time. I alert the Mahjarrat as I speak. Together we shall destroy the one who killed my master. I am eager to see the beast dead and my master avenged.

11 Novtumber, Year 1 of the Sixth Age

I don't understand... My master is gone. He won't answer me. It's their fault! The other Mahjarrat acted too fast! Had they only waited for my the signal, my master wouldn't have had to possess the beast! He wouldn't have had to...

No. No, I refuse to believe it. He has left me before but always returned. I will not lose faith again. I will find him. I will find my master. This I swear.

14 Novtumber, Year 1 of the Sixth Age

I don't get it. I have tried everything I know, yet nothing. He doesn't answer my calls... I must be doing something wrong. Perhaps I'm looking in the wrong place? But if not the Beyond, then where?

15 Novtumber, Year 1 of the Sixth Age

I had an idea overnight. My master fell into one of the energy rifts while possessing the dragonkin, so his fate must somehow be linked with them. But what does it mean? I don't know... I should find someone with knowledge of these rifts and learn what I can from them. But where do I start looking?

17 Novtumber, Year 1 of the Sixth Age

Good news. After returning to the Forinthry Ossuary to notify Sacheverell of my master's fate, I asked him for advice regarding the matter. He revealed to me that Steven has spent the past few months studying what they call the art of divination. It's funny, really. The druid never struck me as being suited for this sort of life, but I have to admit that he's surprised me thus far. I will seek him out and ask what he knows of the rifts. Perhaps he is the key to learning what happened to my master.

19 Novtumber, Year 1 of the Sixth Age

I have found the druid. Turns out he'd gotten himself captured by bandits while travelling through Edgeville. He's alive, if not shaken. I'll see what he knows about the rifts once he's recovered enough. Before finding him though, I ran into a Mahjarrat. He was the one who helped me find the druid. I don't know what he had to gain from it though... Either way, I'll have to be careful. I don't know if any of the others are looking for me, but if they are... Well, at least we're in Varrock. There's no shortage of places to hide.

Varrock... I never expected to see this place again. It looks exactly like it was when I left all those years ago. My family must still live here. I wonder if... No, I shouldn't. It would only make matters worse. That life is behind me now. It's long past time I forgot them and they me.

21 Novtumber, Year 1 of the Sixth Age

Damn it! I'm such a fool. I shouldn't have gone out in the first place. But how was I supposed to...? Forget it, it doesn't matter now. We have to leave the city by tonight. At least the druid's well enough to travel. I'll have to steal horses for us before we go, but that shouldn't prove too hard. I'll question him as we make our way to Skelkesh.

Despite what happened I'm glad I got to see my little brother's face again. He almost made living under our parents back then tolerable. Glad to see he's also found someone special, too. He better treat Richie right, otherwise my next visit will be far more worse than the last.

23 Novtumber, Year 1 of the Sixth Age

Steven has given me much to think about. As we made our way back to Edgeville he described what he knew of the energy rifts from personal experience. Afterwards he asked why I was asking about them, so I told him of what happened. He paled. He knows something but won't say tell me. Fine, I will play along for now. We wait for Skelkesh now. Once she's arrived, we will make for the rift my master fell into. And once there I will make him talk.

26 Novtumber, Year 1 of the Sixth Age

I'm surprised, I didn't have to make the druid talk after all. When we reached the cave Steven saw the rift and began spouting all sorts of nonsense. I only understood half of what he said, but it was enough. As I speak Steven's near the rift divining or whatever they call it. I asked what he was trying to do and he told me he was trying to learn more of this rift in particular. If it goes well he said he might be able to tell me what happened to my master. So for now, I wait.

39 Novtumber, Year 1 of the Sixth Age

I don't believe it. Steven did it—the druid actually did it! He found my master! And of all the places... I have begun making preparations as I speak. Steven's decided to remain here to tend to the rift. As if I care. Let him freeze to death if he so desires. Meanwhile, I will... Who the hell are you?

Lingering Doubt Edit

Note: I can't believe I ever trusted that fanatical half-breed. No wonder Ptolemos never mentioned her, although I can't help but wonder how she could have turned out if he had acted on her before that "one true god" nonsense stole what was left of her sanity.

1 Bennath, Year 2 of the Sixth Age

I nearly forgot about you. After everything I've been through recently, I didn't even think you'd still work. Guess we learn something new every day, huh? Right now I'm waiting for Alorah to return from the village with more supplies. I don't get her. We barely got away from Azulra and still she persists we keep heading to gods-know-where. Every time I ask she refuses to say where we're head. Some island or something. She says it it will help him remember who he is once we get him there.

I don't know why I'm still with her, especially after what she did to him. I keep asking myself if it's for his sake or my own that I don't just take him and run. But I can't go now. Ptolemy's condition is worsening. Alorah assures me that whatever she did to him was for his safety, but I don't buy it. When he fell overboard the other day, I thought... I don't want to lose him again. I can't.

Growing Concern Edit

Note: See? I rest my case. Imagine if I had I acted sooner...

9 Bennath, Year 2 of the Sixth Age

Finally, we're rid of the hobgoblin. Hopefully now we can lose any others who've followed us here. Alorah might trust Marethyu, but that doesn't mean I have to. Ptolemy is doing well, considering where we are. Freneskae... How could anyone live here? Ignoring those things that came after us earlier, there's always lava or freak lightning storms that will kill you if you're not careful. We're lucky to have Alorah here with us. If anything happened to her, I'm not sure if I could get us off this world alive.

Alorah led us to a cave on the other side of the valley. Turns out she'd been to this one before. A dead Mahjarrat lay within. Her handiwork, I think. It doesn't have any marks, though. She searched his body and pulled out an orb of some kind. "From my first visit", she said. It's supposed to take us to a place called the Sundered Sea. It's where Ptolemos was born. That must be where he'll remember who he is... She's signalling that it's time to go.

11 Bennath, Year 2 of the Sixth Age

We've run into more of those muspah things. Alorah had to fight them off by herself. She's... I don't think she's doing well. Our supply of crystals have run out and we haven't been able to find anymore since we entered this region. She's already taxed her strength by getting us this far, and with the constant threat of more attacks or freak weather... What will I do if she doesn't make it? No, don't think like that. We'll reach this place in a matter of hours, we'll get Ptolemos back, and then we'll find the World Gate or whatever and get back home.

A Fresh Start Edit

Note: A fresh start, indeed. I can still hear Ptolemy's wild ramblings after he'd awoken whenever I close my eyes. He didn't deserve that, but at least he didn't leave me alone in this world. I don't care what his letter said, those children will always be his, even if they never know it themselves.

11 Fentuary, Year 3 of the Sixth Age

Ptolemy woke up today, finally. I wasn't sure if... I was sitting beside him when he saw me. He suddenly started to ramble madly while reaching for my sword. His eyes were... I think he wanted to kill himself. Gods... I knocked him out before he could do it. This is just too much for me right now. I don't know what I'm going to do with him. I can't just leave him here, not with Ptolemos in the condition he is in now. I wanted Arachnea to erase his memories at first, make it so he wouldn't remember what we went through... but that would mean he wouldn't remember me... and I don't want that. For now I'll keep watch over him, at least until I can figure out what to do.

As for Ptolemos, he's still in the cabinet I locked him in, screaming and beating the walls. I don't know whether he's trying to tell me something or if he's just trying to kill me. I still can't hear anything out of my right ear since the last time he acted like this. Whatever language he's using is just too dangerous.

I just need time to think. Everything's been happening so fast lately. I hope Richie's doing okay.

13 Fentuary, Year 2 of the Sixth Age

Ptolemy's... gone. I left him under the care of a place called St. Elspeth's Hospital, some kind of dingy asylum for the sick and elderly in the backwoods of Asgarnia. I don't like it, but it's better this way, for both of us. No one will think to look for him there and the monks will take of him. Meanwhile I'll keep looking for a way to fix this. Still... I'll make sure to write him. It's the least I can do. Hopefully he'll understand why I did this.

I haven't checked on Ptolemos since we left. Part of me wants to leave him there... but no, I can't do that. I owe him that much, don't I? Even if that thing in there isn't really him, not entirely...

16 Fentuary, Year 2 of the Sixth Age

It's settled, then. I met with someone from the Godless, a lady named Sera. I'm one of them now. Strange saying that... I've never worked well with others in the past. but isn't this what he wanted: a world without gods? He would always speak of the Godless, yet never once did I see him work with them. Still, I can't do it alone. I don't want to... not anymore.

2 Septober, Year 2 of the Sixth Age

Gods, I never thought being godless could be so boring. Ever since joining I've done nothing but hide, just as the First Commander ordered. We're to "remain out of sight" and not "engage the enemy". I told them myself we accomplished nothing by hiding, but did they listen? Of course not! Tch... I've probably had more experience fighting the gods than any of them. At least I tried to make a difference. Not like these fools...

3 Septober, Year 2 of the Sixth Age

It's happening again. I didn't want to believe it at first, not after last time, but I can't ignore it anymore. It's been too many weeks and I...

World EventsEdit

Impactful, large-scale events such as battles and crises that get everybody talking.

Assassination of GuthixEdit

Year 4 of the Sixth Age

I don't know much beyond the rumours concerning what exactly happened during the hours leading up to Guthix's demise. Sliske, a Mahjarrat, claims he slew Guthix with the Staff of Armadyl (eyewitness accounts from those present following Guthix's death suggest this is true; only the World Guardian and Sliske know the truth of the matter). I've also learned that nearly all other factions were involved but not to what extent. I'm not surprised. Given the chance, I would have tried my hardest just to get a glimpse of the legendary god of balance. I can only imagine how a madman like Sliske must feel about making history as Guthix's murderer and being the one who ushered in a new age.

Battle of LumbridgeEdit

Year 4 of the Sixth Age

The Battle of Lumbridge. Hard to believe it was so many years ago. It was the first time I'd ever seen a god up-close. Zamorak and Saradomin, order against chaos. I led the Hand of Ptolemos during the battle, my chosen infiltrators and I enlisting with Zamorak's army while the rest were chose Saradomin. I can't emphasise enough how splitting my forces was the worst strategy ever (bad judgement and a grudge kept me from admitting and correcting my mistake). The battle was one of the most fiercest I'd ever witnessed despite being mostly contained to within the crater itself. White knights, black knights, demons and monsters fought, bleed, and died as the two stoic gods struggled for supremacy. I was surprised by how well Zamorak's army performed against Saradomin's. General Moia led her soldiers greater than I ever could. Just being in her presence gave me strength.

Unfortunately, as with all wars, there were casualties. I lost good men and women in that crater, and nearly died myself. A unit of white knights had me surrounded, but when I dropped my weapon and surrendered one filled me with arrows (shocking, I know). Little did they know, I was undead and so played the part of a corpse until they removed me off the field. I left then to have my body repaired, passing leadership over to Marshal Ronasil. It came as a surprise when, after weeks of battle, Saradomin won over Zamorak, and I felt a twinge of sympathy for the god of chaos.

Cabbage Facepunch BonanzaEdit

Year 4 of the Sixth Age

Cabbage Facepunch Bonanza. That's what they call the "battle" involving the Godless, Brassica Prime, and Marimbo. I still get a headache just thinking about it, and I wasn't even there (Holstein refuses to speak about it and no one is brave enough to ask Kara-Meir herself; one rumour I'd overheard paints the whole thing as a surprisingly colourful love affair between all three parties). Fortunately, I don't think anyone outside the order even remembers the event. It doesn't matter how you try to spin it, the Godless still lost to a bloody cabbage and an indecent great ape.

Siege of the Godless HallEdit

Year 4 of the Sixth Age

Mephiles Sol laid siege to the Godless Hall, using his powers to disrupt our communications and transportation to and from the citadel. I was fortunate enough to be inspecting the soldiers near the portal entrance with my kids and Ptolemos. We were able to undo his effects over the portal and send word to our off-citadel forces. It wasn't enough. Mephiles and his forces laid waste to our main keep, destroying it and taking a number of our own people with him. This is something we can't allow ourselves to ever forget. Gods, real or not, are dangers we can't afford to ignore. Our own home was nearly destroyed by Mephiles. Too many good men and women lost their lives because of him. I intend on returning the favour tenfold.

Sliske's EndgameEdit

Year 4 of the Sixth Age

The Stone of Jas is gone and Sliske lies dead. The World Guardian triumphs again.

Soul WarsEdit

Year 4 of the Sixth Age

I'm not sure what else to call this. Something happened in the Grim Underworld, something terrible. Souls were used to make a mockery of the gods. I can understand why this Nomad figure did what he did, but never will I support misusing souls... What if I had lost my brother? I couldn't go through that again. Whatever lies beyond this life we deserve, whether it be peace or eternal suffering. That is something no one—mortal or god—should change.

The Bird and the BeastEdit

Year 4 of the Sixth Age

I don't have much to say about this world event (I had my hands full elsewhere). From what I've learned, Bandos, the so-called god of war, sat on his arse throughout the whole affair, thereby costing himself the war and his head (you can actually find it near the base of Ice Mountain). I don't know what he was thinking and probably never will. Not that I'm really bothered about his death (damn does it feel good to see him dead). The world's a better place without Bandos. Now it's only a matter of getting rid of his followers...

Tuska ComesEdit

Note: Tuska Comes a.k.a. the Battle for Gielinor (she came, we saw and kicked her arse!)

Year 4 of the Sixth Age

War among the Stars. Space pig versus mortals. Fight of the ages. The Godless prevailed. Tuska can sink to the bottom of the sea for all I care.

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