A Retiring Veteran

An old, weary adventurer decides his time has been well spent in the land of Gielinor and travels back to his starting village, bringing back memories of old comrades.

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1. Memories

You wake up from your rest, feeling weary, stretching your bones as you stand, ready to take on the adventures of a new day. Your party has slowly decreased in numbers as your friends and loved ones become senile, unable to carry on, or pass away. All of your friends pass their armour on to you before passing on themselves. Eventually you are the only one left. With all the free time you and your comrades had, you gathered an immense fortune. You are well known in the land of Gielinor; rich yet reserved, never seen without your companions.   

But now you are all that is left of the adventure. While this world will continue for several centuries, new adventurers coming and going each day, no amount of money will allow you to remain. But why would you? You're tired. It's time to retire.  

You walk into the first town from your memories of Gielinor, Lumbridge. The buildings have been repaired and changed over the years, no longer just simple dwellings. Through the woods you can spy a glimpse of Draynor, now shrouded and more darker than it once was years ago. It's not hard for you to discern the true new adventurers from the ones trying to blend in. Most of the bunch run purposefully towards their first quest, ignoring all around them. You're sure some of them feel the same pangs of nostalgia as they sweep past the familiar trees and talkative villagers.   

A melancholic stroll leads you to a less populated side of the town, the inner castle. You come across a small kitchen. You recall meeting your friends here for the first time. Wrinkled and worn, but flesh still warm; you and your comrades explored this palace with wonderment, happy to have lived long enough to experience this incredible dwelling.  

As you enter the kitchen, you see the cook. He provies you with a simple, menial quest to gather some ingredients for a cake. Something most adventurers would ignore without a second thought. The reward was a handful of coins and some sardines. It was just a small task to help gain some footing in the new, strange lands. But you are joined by more than just the familiar chef behind the counters.  

A half-dozen group of adventurers are attempting to figure out where to gather these supplies. They seem frank and friendly with each other, teasing those of their order who were unsuccessful in their attempts with finding the ingredients. They turn to you and stare in admiration at your glowing adornments. You approach the small party; the expensive metals that compose your armour sing a sharp tone as they gently scrape together with each movement.  

These fellows come in a variety of genders, races and age. You remember deciding on your first appearance as you arrived in Gielinor, trying to be more diverse than the rest. You smile at the inexperienced group and ask their names. Despite being able to figure out their names from their badges and paperwork, they introduce themselves one after the other. Your eyes have gone, so you wouldn't have been able to make out easily what their names were anyways. That they lack knowledge of the slang used in Gielinor tells you that they are inexperienced.  

But what they're saying is not important. Your fingers and tired and stiff, but the muscle memory is still there. With no hesitation you move several armaments from your inventory on to the dirty kitchen floor. Each as varied as the players who once wore them. Robes and capes and steel and leather, a pile lay before each of the new players. Finally, it is your turn to pass your own armour on. Each piece falls effortlessly from your form, leaving only undergarments, a plain gold amulet and that cape of yours; the cape given to those who've spent quite some time in the land of Gielinor. You tell them to travel always together and enjoy each moment shared in the lands that others have tirelessly crafted for them.  

Turning your back to the frantic players, you walk barely clothed from the castle. You see the river in front of you, leading on down to the desert, leading into the vast sea. You and your friends always wondered if there was anything beyond the sea, but never dared attempt to travel that far, at a risk of death. Standing at the edge of the river, you look into the water only briefly before stepping into your newly crafted canoe. Instead of travelling up the River Lum, you travel south, out into the open, vast sea. You watch as memorable locations you and your companions once traversed pass by, growing tired. You decide to rest, letting the current sweep you away as you lay back, closing your eyes. Soon, you weren't able to hear the sounds of the river anymore, or the birds chirping. Everything growing quiet as you relaxed and slowly surrendered yourself to that peaceful, lasting slumber.

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