| abstract | - Tarqinder stood next to Dalmius. The memorial plaque to Ferdinand was unveiled on the fountain in Varrock, which resulted in applaud from the crowd. "His body may be lost forever, but our thoughts of him are not," Dalmius said. "This is it now, isn't it? Now the monarchy of Varrock know all about what happened, we're finished," Tarqinder said. "I'm afraid so. Now they think we can't even stand up for ourselves, which renders us pointless in their eyes, so they're withdrawing funding. I will join my brother in the weapons trade, but what of you, Tarqinder? You still need to make money, but now you have no job either." "Varrock is nothing more than a dump now, and there isn't the slightest profit coming from anything here. Falador is the same, as is everywhere in Misthalin and Asgarnia. There is word that there is plenty of money available in Ardougne, and that they will cater for those needing work. I will try and reach there." "Will you teleport?" "I am a slayer, not a wizard. I have little magical knowledge and you know that. Besides, there's a decline in the number of runes available, apparently they need to be used wisely due to many runecrafters going out of business." "I see your point. I must warn you though, the journey is not an easy one without magic. There are wolves upon the mountains you need to cross over and pathways littered with bandits and thieves." "Bah, bandits and thieves? Ha! I will slash them in two if they lay a finger on me!" "They are high in number, and there is only one of you." "Do not worry for me, I am confident that nothing will put a stop to me." Tarqinder had nearly reached Barbarian Village on his journey westwards. He walked straight past a barbarian. "Halt!" The barbarian ordered. "Do not tell me to halt you cumbersome fool!" Tarqinder exclaimed raising a sword. Tarqinder slashed against the leg of the barbarian who collapsed on to the floor in a pool of blood. "Not as strong as we think, eh?" Tarqinder asked as he strolled onwards. The barbarian women stepped out of his way, clearly frightened and determined to keep their children same from harm. Tarqinder neared the road into Falador, and stopped to throw a nut from his pocket at the squirrels darting about. The squirrel ignored the nut and scampered away. "My tiny friends, are you not hungry?" Tarqinder asked. As he pursued the squirrel into the sea of evergreen trees, he stopped dead. "Well, well, well. Not many people go travelling about these days, and certainly none with as much as wealth as you," said a man in a black cape with an eye patch and sword. The man observed Tarqinder, especially taking note of his weaponry and armour. "Where are you heading?" The man asked. "Not that it's any of your business mere bandit, but I am going to Ardougne," Tarqinder said. "Maybe I could accompany you, I hear the money is plentiful out there." "Sure, but I'd like to point out, if you try to thieve me or attack me, then I will use this sword on your neck." "Oh no, no, no. You are mistaken! I am not a highwayman, I'm merely dressed as this to frighten off anyone intending on taking all my money and personal items." "So it's a disguise, huh?" "Correct. I'm Mark Theobald, I lived in Port Sarim until it was raided, both my parents were killed for their riches." "My goodness that's awful! But don't tell me, it was all over money wasn't it?" "Yes." "I've come from Varrock, I've lost my job. I've got nobody to help me back there, so I'm going to Ardougne; that's where all the money is." "So I've heard. Now, shall we make our way west before darkness falls? There's a lot of dangers on these roads at night." And with that, Tarqinder and Mark began their journey towards Ardougne. Tarqinder and Mark neared Taverley and decided to stop for a rest. Walking towards the waterfront, Tarqinder dipped his hand in the cool sea and washed the water over his face. "Thank Saradomin for water," Tarqinder said. "Shall we stop for the night?" Mark asked. "What makes you say that?" "It is dangerous ahead, surely we will not be able to cross a mountain in the dark, surrounded by bloodthirsty wolves?" "Not to worry, my sword will deal with any wretched canines who wander to near." "Who are you anyway? You're certainly not the normal type who come from Varrock, and you're not a bandit, are you?" "No. Of course not. I, Mark Theobald, am Tarqinder the Dragon Slayer!" "Slayer? Oh my Saradomin! A real life slayer! You're famous worldwide! Protecting us from the dangers of Gielinor's beasts! So you kill dragons for a living?" "Yes I do. The Slayers' Union disbanded due to lack of funds; I'm out of a job." "Surely there are others who would employ you? I mean, you're the first line of defence aren't you? Our main protection should a large fire-breathing dragon show up in the middle of Falador burning anything and everything in sight." "That's what I hope Ardougne will do. Misthalin cut its funds because they think we're incompetent after one of the other slayers died at my hands. He was meant to protect me in the Wilderness from revenants, but I should've protected him from dragons." A tear rolled down Tarqinder's cheek, he was clearly not over the events of his most recent mission. "Did he die by dragon? If you don't mind me asking..." Mark asked. "Yes he did die by dragon. He was injured, and there was nothing he could do when a wall of fire came hurtling towards him at immense speed," Tarqinder said gritting his teeth. "I'm sorry." "Don't be. It was not your fault it happened, you're not even connected to the event. Oh dear, I'm being rude, aren't I?" "I do not mind. You're bound to feel angry about everything in times like these when everything's gone wrong. You don't need to listen to my witterings either." "Come on. Enough chatting, we can begin to make our way across this mountain. I'm not frightened of a few pesky dogs with fangs." Tarqinder and Mark began their ascension up the mountains, being careful not to slip on ice. "Why not take the longer route round, it's much safer than this," Mark said. "I am a slayer, I'm trained to take risks and do things as quick as possible. Besides, what are these wolves going to do? they're up against a trained slayer used to killing large firebreathing dragons with quite a large sword ready to cut them in two!" Tarqinder exclaimed. "Still, I'm not too confident with this route, but if you say so." "There's nothing at all to worry about-" And with that Tarqinder slipped. The icy ridge they had been passing on was far to slippery for him, and now he found himself dangling over the edge of the ledge, his hands clasped firmly on a large rock. "Give me your hand!" Tarqinder exclaimed. "I can't take your weight!" Mark called. "Just try!" A large white wolf pounced out from around the corner and glanced at Mark. The wolf however saw an easier meal in Tarqinder who was now holding on with one hand. As the wolf leapt towards Tarqinder it slipped over the ledge, pulling Tarqinder with it. As Tarqinder disappeared beneath the blizzard which had begun, Mark to Tarqinder. He reached his body at the bottom of the mountain, the blast of snow becoming overwhelming. Being careful not to slip, Mark leant over Tarqinder's body and retrieved his sword from his hand. "Well you won't be needing this anymore," Mark sighed. Mark then saw Tarqinder's tattered rucksack, and reached into it, pulling out a number of coins and raw tuna. Having all he needed to continue his journey onwards, Mark left Tarqinder's body lying beneath a thin layer of snow.
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