The Cult of the Golden Ape

Tarqinder stood next to Varrock fountain, watching the surrounding market place as carts were wheeled into position, stocked up with furs and newspapers among other items. The market square had been silenced for months, as an economic disaster had hit Varrock; and everywhere else in Gielinor. Now, after two months of hard work and reforming, the cities and towns were getting back on their feet, with businesses reopening and homes being given back to their owners. Nobody spoke of the cause of this disaster, and it was best forgotten in the opinion of those who witnessed the occurrences in Ardougne two months ago.

"Now doesn't that look splendid?" Tarqinder asked, gesturing at all the stalls reopening for business.

"It certainly makes a difference, I haven't bought anything properly in months," Mark Theobald answered.

"Well then go on, give it a go. Here's some spending money."

Tarqinder dropped a few coins into Mark's hand, and Mark walked to the newspaper stall.

"Could I have a copy of your newspaper please?" Mark asked.

"You damn well can! I haven't sold a bloody thing in ages! Saradomin bless you! You're my first customer!" The stall owner exclaimed giving Mark a newspaper. "Here's two actually!"

"Thanks," Mark replied, slightly bewildered.

"Don't worry, he's just happy for work, and I think you've made yourself a friend there," Tarqinder replied, taking one of the newspapers.

"So what were you saying about this expedition we're going on?"

"Well all you need to know is that we're going into the depths of Karamja's jungles, and I'll explain more later. We'll leave tomorrow morning, I've got things to do tonight."

The Sun set and Misthalin was shrouded in darkness. Under the skies of Varrock, Tarqinder strolled towards the Grand Exchange. Nobody was there at this time of night, with the exception of a few drunk men and people trying to get items without any competition. As he crept through the Exchange grounds he kept his eyes peeled for anyone watching him as he pulled open a trapdoor and descended down under the ground.

"There, what stealth I possess," Tarqinder murmured as he climbed down the final steps of an old battered ladder made from teak.

Tarqinder walked down the quiet passageways that lead towards a much more open area which he could just about glimpse at the end of the passage. The walls were lit with torches and banners carrying the Misthalin decoration lined the passage from end to end. The ground was covered in thick dirt and stones which Tarqinder kicked out of his way.

"I'm here," Tarqinder boomed as he entered the large cavern at the end of the passage.

The Slayers' Union meeting hall had been derelict for some time after it disbanded, and the cavern had been completely shut off on the orders of King Roald. Dalmius, the Head Slayer sat at the end of the large mahogany table in a throne-like chair. The other Slayers sat around the sides of the table, with a decoration detailing their specialist creature carved into their position.

"Ah, Tarqinder, let us make a toast to you, for saving the world itself!" Dalmius exclaimed as he raised his wine glass, just as all the other Slayers did. "To Tarqinder!"

"To Tarqinder!" The other Slayers exclaimed as they toasted him too.

"Thank you, but I didn't do it all myself, I was aided by a group of people. May I request we do not dwell upon those dark days in Ardougne, though?" Tarqinder asked.

"Certainly, certainly. So now, I would like to welcome you all back to the Slayers' Union, as King Harmon in Kandarin has provided us with enough funds to reform, and Sir Amik and King Roald promise they will aid us too once they can begin to gain enough money once again," Dalmius said.

Tarqinder looked five seats to his right; it was empty. That seat was one which had belonged to Ferdinand who had slayed revenants in the Wilderness, but had perished in Tarqinder's company.

"Might I also acknowledge the utter tragedy of our fellow Slayer Ferdinand's untimely demise. May we remember him and fight in his name. Times must move on though, and I would like to make it clear that we will need to replace Ferdinand with somebody else, as revenant activity has been on the increase according to those travelling through the Wilderness," Dalmius said.

"I might know of someone," Tarqinder said.

"And who would this person be?"

"His name is Mark Theobald."

"Well then, we will look into this proposal at our next session, but for now we really need to begin assigning tasks, for there is much work which needs doing. Firstly, Lathiki, you are needed in Taverley, as the Black Demons in the dungeon have become a lot more persistent and have managed to make it closer towards the surface, plus they are stronger and more resilient to some of the weaponry used on them."

"I will head there at sunrise, I'll stop these foul demons before they can penetrate the weak druids of Taverley," Lathiki stated.

"And Niles, the skeletons of Edgeville are terrorizing the locals, one person has claimed they are travelling in groups of up to fifteen," Dalmius said.

"Fifteen? It would seem they are converging rather than fighting among themselves. Bah, but they are nothing more than pests, and I'll see to them falling apart, quite literally!" Niles exclaimed.

"Good, good, nice to see you haven't lost your determination! And finally, Karnil, the dire wolves at Arandar have killed a number of adventurers these past few weeks, and they're in packs now, so equip yourself," Dalmius said.

"Dire wolves, they've acted this way before, they're hungry, so I'll have to be cautious when hunting them down," Karnil said.

"And now I move on to a much more important matter. Tarqinder here has offered to travel to Karamja to study the Cult of the Golden Ape," Dalmius said.

Murmurs began around the table.

"Legends say that their precious statue is guarded by a beast hiding in the cave it is found in. Tarqinder will find out what this monster is and report back to us. It has killed many of us in the past, but this time we will kill it," Dalmius said.

"That's madness! He'll be killed!" Lathiki exclaimed.

"If it's too dangerous in there I'll stop, but I have to at least try to stop it whatever it may be," Tarqinder said.

"I still think you're mad."

"Well, mad or not, I've got a task to do."

"Tarqinder we wish you luck, and now this session is dismissed," Dalmius said.

As dawn rose, Tarqinder awoke from his room in the Blue Moon Inn, but Mark was still in a deep sleep, completely unaware of the surrounding world.

"Mark!" Tarqinder called.

Mark did not awake.

"Mark if you do not awake I'll wake you up by force."

"Fine, I'll get up," Mark groaned, his eyes still closed.

"That's the spirit, now we've got a long journey ahead so get a move on."

Tarqinder and Mark made their way out of Varrock in the direction of Port Sarim, and Tarqinder decided that they should pass through Barbarian Village and Falador to avoid the undead trees outside Draynor Manor.

"The barbarians shouldn't mind us passing through, but just in case they don't take kindly to us we'll not stop for a drink," Tarqinder said as they approached the bridge which led to the small settlement passing over the River Lum.

The wooden structures of the village were inhabited by rough skinned barbarians who were covered in cuts and bruises from various fights. One of them watched Mark with a vicious stare.

"I think you were right about them not taking kindly to us," Mark murmured.

"It's no concern to them-" Tarqinder was silenced as an axe-wielding barbarian charged at them.

"How dare you look upon my brother with your greedy city-dwelling eyes!" The barbarian roared as he ran straight towards Tarqinder.

"Shut it you drunken fool with your pointed helmet!" Tarqinder shouted pulling his large sword out in front of the barbarian.

"Oh my- It would seem a true warrior stands on this ground," the barbarian uttered, retreating to his hut.

"There, that should be the last of our problems; for now," Tarqinder said.

"Well we're hardly going to be bothered in Falador are we? Well, I hope not anyway," Mark said.

Passing through the land south of Falador, Mark had become a lot quieter. Nearby a group of elemental wizards were firing bolts at a nearby traveller who ran to safety. Birds sang out in the trees and a squirrel darted in front of Tarqinder.

"Watch it! You damn vermin," Tarqinder snapped shooing the small creature out of the way.

Now, Port Sarim was in sight, it sat quietly on the seaside, the docks filled with large wooden ships. Wooden buildings lined the side of the docks, and Mark glimpsed the general store in the distance.

"Oh Saradomin," Mark whispered as he stood still.

"Mark, you have to fight against your demons, there is nothing here that can hurt you, and I'm here for you every step of the way," Tarqinder said reassuringly.

"I haven't been here since the raid."

"But that world of death and destruction is gone, we've helped fix the world and we have to move on."

"I can't move on just like that! They were my parents!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't think-"

"No, because you're too busy thinking about your expeditions and journeys across the world! Never mind how I feel about anything."

Mark stormed off and headed on to the pier where he slumped down against a barrel of fish. Seagulls swooped around him, and a sea captain who had nothing much to do was scrubbing the decks of his ship which had seen better days. Mark remembered back to days of old where he would stand on the pier with his parents watching the ships sail in and out of the dock. A seagull landed near him, and Mark pulled a fish out of the barrel and tossed it at the seagull who immediately grabbed it.

"Oi you! Yeah you lad! What are you doing throwing away my catch for those hungry pests to eat?" Asked a fisherman who strode along the dock angrily towards Mark. "That's my livelihood you're throwing away! And making money hasn't been easy either-"

The fisherman stopped. He stared at Mark, looking right into him.

"What's your name son?" The fisherman asked.

"Mark Theobald."

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry for your loss, I truly am. Matthew and Abigail were such lovely people, and they'll never be forgotten Mark."

"You knew my parents?"

"I used to give them most of my fish, and then they'd sell it and give me a large part of their profits. A right little community that was back then, but I moved on and began to do business elsewhere, but then I came back, and then I heard the news about your parents. I can't believe they're gone."

"Thank you, it makes me feel better knowing they're remembered."

"Everyone remembers them round here, and they live on through you. You've got Matthew's eyes, I can recognize them any day."

"Thank you, again. I think I've got something to do now, and I'll never forget my parents, not ever."

Mark walked up to Tarqinder who was leaned over the wooden fencing which overlooked the water. He picked up a stone and threw it in, the water rippled outwards and Tarqinder sighed.

"No sign of any talking lobsters then?" Mark asked.

"Mark, about my ignorance, I'm sorry," Tarqinder said.

"It was a mistake, now let's forget about it. Now come on, if we hurry we'll be at Musa Point by noon."

"So what brings you to Karamja?" Asked the sailor as his boat rocked about over the waves.

"Oh, nothing much," Tarqinder murmured.

"I tell you what though, these eels have been going round us in circles since we left Port Sarim. Blasted things, the other day I had a couple of manta rays following me on the journey back from Karamja. These sea creatures seem to be up to something, sneaky blighters!"

"Mark, can you see dry land from where you are?"

"No, just vast masses of sea," Mark replied.

"Well, it's not that bad of a day to be sailing is it?" Tarqinder asked.

"No, no, not at all. Though there seem to be a lot of storms these days, I was stuck at Musa Point one night as it was far too bad to sail back to Port Sarim," the sailor replied.

The sailor pulled at the ship's wheel and they turned violently towards starboard. The skyline was dominated by seagulls who were swooping down and snatching small fish from the water. In the distance a rocky outcrop became visible as did the sight of land. Musa Point came into view, with its vast sandy beaches rising from the depths of the blue water. Palm trees were draped over the beaches, and long jungle grass stood tall further inland between the jungle.

"I haven't been out here since I had to deal with a firebreathing nuisance a few years back," Tarqinder noted as he gazed out into the depths of the jungle.

A small wooden pier became visible and the ship pulled in gently, with the sailor lifting out an anchor and dropping it into the water.

"Here we are," the sailor said, putting out a wooden board to allow Tarqinder and Mark to get off.

"Thank you," Tarqinder said.

"Yes, thanks," Mark said as he pursued Tarqinder.

"Ah, the jungle! Smell that fresh vegetation!" Tarqinder exclaimed.

"It certainly makes a change to the stench of Varrock."

"Stench? Don't speak of Varrock with such words! We will honour Misthalin as we pass through this foreign domain."

"As you wish."

The pair passed the bar and banana plantation at Musa Point, before descending into jungle...

Tarqinder and Mark had now passed through Brimhaven and were in the deepest parts of the jungle. A large mosquito fluttered around Tarqinder, who crushed it immediately with his sword.

"We should be weary, I think most of these creatures are poisonous," Mark stammered, his eyes darting from side to side expecting a jungle spider to pounce on him at any minute.

There was rustling in the vegetation, and Tarqinder and Mark swung round to see what it was.

"Who goes there?" Tarqinder asked.

From their leafy hiding places, eight tribesmen emerged, each brandishing a large spear and wearing tribal dress, accompanied by sandals on their feet.

"Oh, it's not anything to worry abou-" Tarqinder stopped as a spear whacked his sword clean out of his hand and the tribesman surrounded him and Mark.

"Who are you? You dare tread in our jungle bwana? On holy ground? We should have you sacrificed!" Exclaimed a tribesman who seemed to be the leader.

"We were just lost," Tarqinder stuttered.

"I am Kumthalatta, leader of the Cult of the Golden Ape, and you, bwana! Have passed through the wrong place!" Kumthalatta exclaimed lifting a spear to Tarqinder's throat...