Sour Grunt Productions

Preface
Before I bring to life the new Gielnor, I must explain what's up, give you some background info and such.
The original Blue Jay Chronicle is available on Archimage A's profile and was written by him about two and a half years ago. It contains a lot of background information pertaining to characters, but not as much to the overall plot. It does provide background for the setting as well.
I want to thank Archimage for allowing me to destroy one of his most notable works on the forum.

Part I Chapter I
The graveyard was eerily silent. No breeze came to sweep the leaves from the trees, no person walked by speaking of the latest rebel raid. No one moaned gently at another fallen comrade or friend, The birds were quiet, the sea to the south, usually loud enough that even half a mile away you could hear the incessant crash of the deep blue waters, was quiet. It was as if this graveyard were encased in a bubble, as if no one could enter, no sound could enter, and nothing could escape.
Here sat a weeping man. In front of a small, dilapidated gravestone sat a twenty-eight year old man, weeping as if he were an eleven year old girl. Tears cascaded down his cheeks in a torrent, he threatened to gag as he let out loud sobs.
BlueJay hugged the gravestone, felt it's cold, ragged surface against his chest. He laid his cheeks on the top of it, looked into the darkness of the falling night and remembered everything, the good times, the bad (there had been more of those than good), the painful times. But the whole time he knew he was being taught a wonderful lesson, that he was loved. That this man loved him.
Kam had died to protect BlueJay. Kam had pulled out a dagger, threw it at Archimage when the man had turned to walk away. Archimage had simply bent it in midair, turned it into something like a mini-cannonball, and used magic to shoot it in the opposite direction of where it was supposed to go, right into Kam's forehead.
Then, Kam had laughed and loosed a spell, one not even the great Archimage could see, and Archimage was blown to pieces, his blood and guts and bones spattered across the royal hall of Lumbridge castle as if it were a new coat of paint.
Here he lay, here lay Archimage, what was left of him anyhow. And here lay Blue Jay, sobbing over the loss of his father.

BlueJay was being shaken brutally. Blue Jay awoke and blinked. Kam's face was the first thing he saw, and then the four other rebels in the house getting up, pulling on their armor, and preparing their weapons.
"BlueJay goddammit! Wake up! A flare just went off right outside of the house. Archimage is on to us, we have to get the hell out of here before he sends troops."
BlueJay sat up as fast as he could, and then rolled out from under the two potato sacks that served as his blanket. He was naked except for a pair of white underwear. He had given up being bashful about his nakedness years ago. If these rebels saw his thighs and muscular build, he wouldn't care. Maybe his thighs would haunt their dreams, a thought that for some reason pleased BlueJay.
He pulled his clothes on and grabbed his mithril scimitar from it's spot against the wall. He had thrown away his adamant equipment given to him by Archimage a couple months ago, when he realized how Archimage was tracking him using this. BlueJay was sure Archimage would have no troubles tracking him without the shield and scimitar, but it made it easier to sleep at night.
An explosion outside. Fire rained down to the dead grass. BlueJay had memories of that dream, of Archimage exploding, of Kam's forehead shattering like a piece of glass being punched by a brute.
As if on cue, a window was punched by a brute, sending fragments of glass to tinkle gently on the wooden floor.
BlueJay shook his head again.
Archimage had to be able to read minds.
The brute was seven feet tall, had huge muscles, and screamed as if he were a dying dragon. He smashed through the wall as if it were a thin sheet of paper and entered the house.
One of the rebels ran at him stupidly, waving his sword in the air. The brute punched him, the punch literally ripping the top half of the guy's body off, throwing the top half of his body through the house's opposite wall and outside. The waist area down just stood there for a second before toppling over, blood gushing all over the floor.
Kam was shocked by this, scared even. He screamed for every god as the brute ran at BlueJay,
BlueJay rolled to the left side and swiped his scimitar, hoping to cut the brute's side open. But somehow the skin of the monster was not even scratched by the sharp sword.
The monster stopped and screamed loudly, beating it's chest as if his heart were threatening to lurch out of it. He then turned and jumped in the air, half turning, his leg outstretched to the side.
The kick missed by a hairs breadth. Blue Jay ducked underneath and swiped upwards...
...Right into the creatures danglies.
The brute hit the ground and rolled through the wall, creating another gaping hole. It grabbed his groin, blood leaking through his clenched fists. It cried loudly in some odd tongue, something BlueJay somehow knew, but could not put his finger on.
Another flare flew into the air, this time from the brute's stomach. Blood flew upwards as the rocket burst from his stomach. It exploded, sending fire raining on the creature.
BlueJay would have felt bad for him, he was probably under Archimage's hypnosis spell, but he had more important things to worry about, mainly getting the hell out of the abandoned farmhouse.
He grabbed Kam's hand and ran. Kam's hand against his sent a thrill through his whole body, but then the vision of Kam dying again led to a blank moment.
“BlueJay! You're going the wrong way!”Kam tried to pull from BlueJay's grasp, but couldn't.
The platoon of Archimage's soldiers were on them within five seconds, surrounding the two. BlueJay ran into one of them, and was shoved to the ground, where he shook his head of the vision and finally noticed the situation he was in.
“Well, this isn't good.” He muttered.
Kam whispered as he sat on the ground next to him, “You think.”
“ A letter for a Mister BlueJayFan Ninety-Four. An odd name for sure. Which of you would that be?”
BlueJay raised his arm, defeated. He knew a letter was never good. It was either Archimage taunting him, or Archimage taunting him and also providing commentary on the previous taunt and how well it went. BlueJay couldn't stand the man, despised him. Ever since he took over the known world, he had become a menace. He was a supporter of the slave trade, declared wars for no reason, demanded labor of each and every one of the citizens of Gielnor, created strict curfews, murdered whoever he wished, turned the best fighters and tacticians of the world into his personal army.
He had bathed the city of Falador in blood, made it his capital, created his own religion, made his books part of the religious teachings, created thousands of versions of himself to watch over the world.
He was playing god.
This letter, whatever it said was going to try to loosen BlueJay's morale, to make him more susceptible to mental infiltration, to make him an easy target for Archimage to take over. And gods knew Archimage had use for BlueJay in his army. As a rogue, he was the best there was, as a thief, even better.
The soldier handed him the letter, and then a backpack.
BlueJay broke the seal on the letter and read it over a couple times.

Dear BlueJayFan Number Ninety-Four,
I am glad to see you have survived the attack of the brute, though I have found his death a bit of an embarrassment on your part. Cheap shots never seemed to me like they were part of you fighting style. You seemed more valiant, not a 'Go for the nuts' sort of man. But then again, this is you I am speaking of.
I am sure you are rather concerned about me, I have not sent you a letter in some time, but I am doing fine, my health is good, and my kingdom his expanding like any good kingdom should. Some people rebel, but they are all either put down for good, or join my army.
And a mighty army it is. May I tell you all the benefits of this army? I am sure you are concerned about the health and safety of your good friend Kam there. I do not want him for the army, but if you lend your body to my cause I will make you two the couple for all to watch. I will provide you a house and any other commodities needed. I will even give him a good job in one of my libraries.
I am sure you are going to make the trek to Falador right now, just to come and help the cause and protect the person you love. Or perhaps you are going to come and try to kill me, a mistake that would prove fatal. Or maybe you will run. In which case I will make you go crazy, I will interrupt your sleep with even more disturbing images.
Either choice you make I have provided commentary withing the backpack on each item. Please read those after this letter.
The rebel cause is one of failure, and continuing the fight will only lead to the inevitable. Few are likely to join your cause any more, they are fearful of me, as they should be. They mine, they chop wood, they fish, but they are all watched, all scared of me.
Best wishes,
Archimage Aquans

BlueJay eventually tore up the letter and let the pieces scatter about the circle of militia men Kam and he were enclosed in.
He opened the backpack rather slowly. The top of the backpack contained a T-shirt and a pair of light jeans. The T-shirt was white, with a rather large logo running across the front “I Heart Falador”. Beneath those clothes were another pair for Kam, and a note.

Dear Couple,
Please enjoy these his and his clothes. They are rather expensive souvenirs, hopefully you find them comfortable.
Archimage Aquans

Beneath that was a large pouch of runes, and beside that pouch was a box containing various foods and another note.

Dear Couple,
These runes should make any violent run-ins more than a simple test of your magical abilities. This food is enough for three days, more than enough to get you from your current position north of Lumbridge, to Falador.
Archimage Aquans

That was it. The militia shifted and walked back towards Lumbridge. The apparent leader, the one who had given BlueJay the backpack turned around and gave a warning:
“I'd do what Archimage says, or risk a most unpleasant death.”
BlueJay tore up the notes and then stood. “When is any death pleasant?”

Part II

Kam stood from where he sat on the ground, gently patting the dirt off his torn blue trousers. He looked back in the general direction of Lumbridge, where the faint sound of the militiamen's footsteps came from. They were probably doing this loud march back to Lumbridge for dramatic effect. They could easily teleport back to Lumbridge, they just wanted to add more tension in the already tense air.
BlueJay looked at nothing in particular, completely blank. He looked defeated. He swung his newly acquired backpack over his shoulder and started down the path, that led to Falador with two stops in Draynor and Port Sarim.
The moon shone down brightly. Archimage's curfew had been leveled the moment he started taking over Gielnor, from the moment the sun disappears to the moment the guards tell the people to awaken. This would not effect the two travelers. Archimage wanted BlueJay too much to have his wandering militiamen attack or antagonize him the whole way to Falador.
BlueJay knew Archimage was toying with him, sending expendable men and monsters to weaken him, to break his physical shield, making mental infiltration so much easier. A broken man is too warn out to battle, even with his mind.
Kam attempted to keep up with BlueJay to no avail. He looked as if he were possessed by a higher power. Kam let his head droop, watching his feet for what little entertainment they could give. He knew BlueJay had no chance against Archimage, and knew Bluejay knew this. The only way out was a miracle, death, or joining the enemy.
Kam laughed. A miracle? Who was he kidding? It would be a miracle if the two made it to Falador. Monsters ran rampant across Gielnor. Archimage did not care what roamed the streets, as long as they didn't interfere with the militia or the slaves, working in the mines, forests, and along the rivers.
BlueJay trudged along, grumbling under his breath. Beside the path, farms in all manner of disrepair sat. Chickens ran about, clucking wildly. A black dog looked up from it's spot on a front porch. It lay it's head back upon it's paws when it saw the travelers were not interested in petting him or feeding him.
Kam thought for the right words, but couldn't get them to come out. When words did come out, they were not as perfect as what was running through his head, like when a boy asks a girl out on a date.
“Why are you doing this? Why not run? Don't worry about my wellness, don't worry about me dying. Dying is a better alternative to being a slave to our enemy.”
BlueJay looked at him, hate flaring in his eyes.
“Are you an idiot? We're dead if we run! This is the only way out! We aren't bloody gods, and Archimage is the closest thing to a god on Earth! Quit complaining and sulking like a child, be happy I am going to do this, sacrifice myself to help you, provide you with a better life! And it's not just about you! I could kill myself, I could have you kill me, I could give in and let Archimage take me over right here, right now! But think goddammit! Doing this... we may have a bloody chance! We may be walking into his domain,but there may still be a chance to kill him when he is right there killing me, as opposed to killing me right here.”
“How the hell does that make sense?” Tears started to stream down his cheeks. “Why not give up, end it now. Archimage would do terrible things to us, why not just take poison, cut our bellies open, anything to get away from this corrupt world?”
“Because WE HAVE A [bleep]ING CHANCE THIS WAY! I refuse to die without a fight, I refuse to kill myself and give up on myself. I refuse to allow that stupid bastard to get in my way! He needs to be killed a hundred times over. I would savor it! Savor his blood splashing on my face, savor his screams as they taper off into gurgles as his blood rushes up his throat and out his mouth.”
BlueJay's eyes widened, his fists clenched, his veins throbbed. He looked like he would kill anything that even tried to fight back with him.
Kam shut up and fell back a little, walking slower than before.
The sun was rising, blue today.
Another battle was on the horizon. The blue sun warns of battle, to who nobody knew, but the kingdoms not taken over were preparing arms right now probably.
Whatever they did, they were not going to stop the expansion of Archimage's empire. That was a fact Kam and BlueJay just had to accept.

The small village sat inside the jungles of Karamja. It was awash with excitement, militiamen running about, preparing their arms and running to the shores of the island, boarding the warships.
Archimage strode through the center of the village and stopped in front of a straw hut with a wooden door. It was opened a moment later by a tall fellow in dragon armor who instantly went down to his left knee and bowed his head. His armor had spikes jutting from the shoulder pads and helmet. Long blond hair feel out from the back of the helmet, falling an inch down his shoulder.
“My lordship, the war party is ready any time you are.” He said.
“Stand commander Khaliph.” He did so. “I need you to get your map out. I have a new plan, one that I think will be even more effective then the previous. I have seen Crandor, and it is fortified to the teeth. It will be a harder battle than I thought but this new path should make this battle a bit easier.”
“Yes my lordship.” Khaliph went to the wooden chest in front of his bed. He unlocked it with a short spell and rummaged around inside. He pulled out a rolled up piece of parchment, and unfurled it on his small writing desk.
Archimage stood beside the desk and pointed at the large volcano on Karmaja island, just west of their current position.
“I was scouting about, finding any rebels or people who ran from the village, and I happened upon a trapdoor up on the volcano, right next to a gorge containing lava. I went inside, and found that it was a man-made tunnel system. It had torches nailed to the walls with fire still burning upon them, as if they had some sort of spell upon them that would never stop the flames from burning.
I continued forward and found myself entering a room full of dragon bones, perhaps guardians during an attack? Anyway, I learned from writing upon the walls that these were made by the Karamjian people during the civil war, when the various factions of Gielnor battled for these islands. This tunnel led right underneath the sea and to Crandor, where the people would hide.”
“And you are suggesting we send a couple groups of men through these tunnels, into the center of the fortifications, and weaken them from the inside, thus making them more susceptible to our warships.”
Archimage's jaw dropped. “As a matter of fact I was.”
“And no one guards it, it is forgotten?”
“Yes, it is very old, and hasn't been used for probably a couple hundred years.” Archimage turned around and walked towards the door. “Send everyone but your most powerful platoons. Send them to destroy the enemy from the inside. I am going to see the troops off at Port Sarim. And I also have a bird to hunt.”

Draynor was quiet. The feel of the morning permeated the town square, the chirp of birds, a cool breeze blowing through, the hot sun beating on the backside.
And then the morning flare went up and BlueJay and Kam's nap ended.
They had slep in the corner where two houses met on town square. They had lain away from each other. BlueJay was still mad, Kam was still sad, and the hobo who had been assigned this spot as his curfew place still wondered who the hell these two people were and why they were sleeping in his home.
It didn't matter when the flare went up. Everyone was rushed out by the guard that also lived in their homes. The guards waved their weapons menacingly until the people in the house left to whatever job they did.
A guard ran up to the hobo, and kicked him in the ribs. He then pulled the old man to his feet and threw him in the general direction of the river.
The guard then turned and handed BlueJay a letter before leaving.
BlueJay stared at it blankly, stared at the seal, a letter “A” with mystic symbols surrounding it. He broke it and read the letter quickly.

Dear BlueJay Fan Number Ninety-Four,
I would like to meet you at the Port Sarim dock today, as soon as you can. Perhaps we could share a drink and hot meal?
Sincerely,
Archimage Aquans

Hot meal?
A meal with smoke rising slowly from it, to encompass his face?
A meal that would sear his tongue, tingle his taste buds, give him a warm feeling in his empty belly?
Bloody hell, this was too good to be true!
Something other than cold potatoes or stew?
And maybe an ale. Something other than putrid smelling water.
He pulled Kam from the corner and pointed at the wall dividing Draynor and Port Sarim.
“Food!” He droned before running off to Port Sarim.

Water crashed against the dock. Archimage stood there, taking in the smell of sal[bleep]er, the cries of the seagulls, and the feel of the light breeze. What a wonderful day!
His white robes with the light blue trim waved about gently. Runic symbols dotted it, symbols only he and the other elder magi knew.
“It's so nice out, right Rei?” Archimage asked to the air.
“Yes.” Came a reply, as if from the breeze.
This was such a beautiful world.
And it was his...
The warships on the horizon moved toward Crandor, another easy victory that the militia would savor.
Another wonderful place to add to Gielnor's most wonderful empire.

Part III

Hypnosis. It was a rather simplistic spell, even without magic hypnosis was possible, it was just a trick the brain plays when staring at something for too long. With magic though, hypnosis turns into something akin to turning a person into a mindless zombie. They will do whatever the hypnotist wishes.
This is what happened to BlueJay. The idea of free hot food and drink added just a little more to the experience. Archimage had used magic to make the words instantly hypnotize BlueJay, make him run mindlessly for Port Sarim.
I should have thought of this before, Archimage thought. He had been given the idea by Zaro, his greatest ally in the Wizard's Circle, also known as the Wizard's Council.
Worked like a charm, he thought as he saw BlueJay approach the dock, running faster than most people would think possible.
“And thus, it ends.” Archimage muttered.

The rebels attempts at sea warfare were laughable. They had converted fishing boats and trading vessels into attack transport. Against the militia's warships, armed to the teeth with cannons, archers, and swordsman, the rebel's ships all sunk within five minutes of the battle.
The island had been fortified quite nicely. The rebel mages had been able to create corral reefs around the island, making warship progress slower than it should have been. One of the warships ran through one of the reefs, tearing open the hull. The boat gradually started to sink, militiamen jumping into the water.
Around the circular island, a wall had been hastily constructed. From atop it, archer's shot at the enemy boats and the men in the water.
Inside, soldiers prepared their weapons, mages prayed to their gods, and commanders showed every possible invasion plan that the militia could have, and how to counter it.

Too bad they never thought of the militia invading from the inside.
Khaliph and twenty five of his best soldiers ran through the man made tunnel system, past chalk figures on the walls, past the bones of dragons, until they reached an ramp leading up, seemingly into the ceiling.
Khaliph was the first to shove on this , to find that the ground here was artificial, it was like a manhole cover, though four muscle bound men were needed to push it aside.
When the men inside the walls of Crandor saw the attackers, they screamed to attack.
But most of those men were dead before the words came out.
Khaliph drew his large sword and twirled in a semicircle, going from standing to crouching in one move, while simultaneously swinging his sword, cutting four rebels down. He then pulled his iron shield from it's place upon his back and blocked a rebel's thrust. He then thrust with his shield, knocking the rebel to the ground, where Khaliph decapitated him.
Crandor was in an uproar, and as the reefs were destroyed by militia wizards, and archer's were slowly picked off, and soldiers found themselves facing death, all hope seemed lost.
And then , seemingly out of nowhere, he appeared.

Archimage felt it and went to his knees. He suddenly looked feral. His eyes enlarged, his mouth turned into a snarl.
“The bastard son appears again!” He screamed.
BlueJay was now twenty feet away, eyes wide, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth.
Archimage stood and stopped the idiot with a wave of his hand, sending BlueJay into the air and bending his back almost to the breaking point.
The hypnotic state ended as soon as the sharp pain of his back bending began. He screamed loudly, wondering what the hell was going on. He remembered everything up to receiving the letter and then the rest was blank.
The letter.
BlueJay continued to scream, but this time words formed.
“THE LETTER!”
Archimage laughed. “The Wizard Council backs me up one hundred percent and one of my closest friends in the council taught me hypnotism through writing. And it worked like a charm didn't it you stupid bastard?”
BlueJay felt himself bend more. He screamed louder than he ever had before.
“Where's your stupid [bleep]ing friend? Where's Kam, the stupid slave boy who defies me because of you? Where is he? I'm at the breaking point, and you are on the verge of it! I am sick of these stupid games, and now another comes to defy my rule, one more worthy than yourselves? You need to be taken care of now, because it will take my full attention to take out the greatest enemy to the empire!”
Kam appeared from around a building, huffing and puffing his way to BlueJay. He stopped, caught his breath, walked a little more, stopped, caught his breath.
When he saw BlueJay, bended over in the air he screamed for him. But Kam suddenly found himself in the same position next to BlueJay, screaming for his own life.
“Grand, the two little idiots who have evaded me for so long are now here in one spot, prepared to die.”
There is something wrong, BlueJay thought. Archimage was usually snotty, not downright a feral devil. It was as if whoever this person was he was speaking of was inadvertently making him turn into a monster.

Archimage fought for control of his body. Xarosen was taking over, which was never a good thing. It meant that a champion of god was one the Earth now. It meant that Xarosen had sensed the champion and was royally pissed, enough that it expended as much power as it had to to break free of the chains it had been tied up with. It meant that Xarosen had broken free from it's prison in Archimage's mind.
And now Archimage was trying to fight for control, to battle the dark shadow that was enveloping him, his mind.
There was only one champion of god other than himself he knew of.
He cursed the man's name under his breath before jumping into the darkness.

As soon as the man in the brown fedora and white breastplate and thigh plates appeared out of nowhere, the battle turned in the favor of the rebels.
The man attacked with two swords, fighting brilliantly, taking out half a dozen militiamen at a time. He alone defeated the forces that had come from the tunnels, and he alone challenged Khaliph to an honorable deathmatch.
“Son of Saradomin,” Khaliph muttered, “Archimage warned us you might show up.”
The man in the fedora laughed and twirled his weapons, taking a crouching stance.
Khaliph came ran at the man, slashing from the left. Fedora jumped back and used his crossed swords to hold Khaliph's sword high in the air, allowing Fedora to kick him in the stomach, throwing him to the ground.
Khaliph got up and swiped at Fedora's legs. Fedora front flipped over him, slicing a deep gouge in the man's cheek.
A crowd of rebels now surrounded the fighters, cheering the mysterious man in the fedora on.
But then Khaliph screamed and disappeared, as if he were never actually there.
Fedora laughed and sheathed his swords, muttering under his breath, “Your soldiers would sure die for you Archimage.”

Archimage watched a rift appear to his side, a tear in the air from which Khaliph stepped out, cheek bleeding profusely.
He bowed down in front of Archimage.
“I am sorry my lord. I have failed. The Son of Saradomin has come.”
Archimage punched Khaliph in the face, breaking his nose, blood streaming from the nostrils. His face was now crumpled, disgusting. Tears mixed with the blood.
“GO TO FALADOR! WE HAVE LOST CRANDOR! AND IT IS BECAUSE OF YOU!” Archimage kicked him in the chest. “YOU ARE WORTHLESS DAMMIT!”
Khaliph disappeared before another blow could be issued.

BlueJay watched on, tears streaming down his own cheeks, both from the horrible pain, and also from how sad it was to see a warrior fighting for the cause of a man who would abuse him as such.
“No...” BlueJay was able to mutter. “You are worthless.”
Archimage...No, whatever had taken over Archimage, looked up and floated to face BlueJay.
“What did you say you worthless rat? Did you call your lord worthless? DID YOU CALL YOUR LORD WORTHLESS?” Archimage grabbed BlueJay's arm and unfurled his clenched fist so his fingers stood out as they usually would.
“WHOSE WORTHLESS NOW?” Archimage sent a huge gust of wind against BlueJay's fingers, the wind forceful enough to bend all the fingers until they snapped. BlueJay screamed in pain as left to right his fingers were broken.
“LOOK WHERE INTOLERANCE GETS YOU? NOW THE NEXT HAND!”
BlueJay tried to fight, but was too weak.
His clenched hand was unfurled, he steeled himself for the coming pain.
And then a voice rang out, loud and valiant.
“Long time no see Archimage.”
“YOU!” Archimage settled to the dock.
“Quite. And you too. I see BlueJay and Kam have been a thorn in your side, but I would advise you to put them down before I put even larger, sharper things in your side.”
Archimage laughed. “I have waited for you to show up. As inopportune as this time is, it is also the perfect time to take out my three most hated foes in one fell swoop.”
“You can't take out three people with just yourself Archimage.”
“A broken man, a broken lover, and the infamous Ratchet, disappeared from Earth a year ago and returning to kill me. Remember our battle a year ago Ratchet, how we destroyed West Ardounge? Left many homeless?”
“Oh, Xarosen, I should have known my presence would give you reason to take over Archimage's body again. I was actually hoping to fight Archimage, not a fallen demi-god. At least Archimage would provide a challenge.”
Xarosen swung his staff and prepared a spell.
When the incantation ended, he muttered, “Archimage's body may not let out my full potential, but it will allow me just enough to destroy you as much as I did your predecessor.”