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| - Looking Towards the Past Chapter 1: You may think that being chased by a pack of hellhounds in the Wilderness volcano is scary, unless you know what your doing, of course. I was training on them in the extinct volcano when a pack of them appeared. My elven friend Elsenri, and Duradel a human, were with me at the time. Elsenri hid himself behind a nearby rock and Duradel ran to the volcano wall and started climbing, which was what I was doing too. "Can Hellhounds climb?" shouted Duradel from above me as the Hellhounds were barking below. "Hope not", I replied tersely. We reached the volcano rim, and I searched for Elsenri. Elsenri was such a good hider, I couldn't find him, nor could the Hellhounds. I took out my rune crossbow, loaded it and fired at the nearest Hellhound. "Here", said Duradel, handing a vial of grey liquid. "What is that", asked Maran. "Fishing explosive", replied Duradel. "Why the hell do you carry explosives around?!" demanded Maran. Duradel went red with anger for a moment, then replied, "Just dip your bolt in it." Maran complied and then loaded his crossbow. "I know how explosives work, so don't tell me where to aim", said Maran, firing in the middle of the pack. A explosion immediately followed, killing the closest hellhounds instantly. The rest whimpered and fled. "Wow", muttered Maran. Now with the pack eliminated they clambered down the slope. "Nice job", greeted Elsenri from behind. Duradel whirled around and shouted, "Holy $%@#, stop doing that!" "Heh, sorry", apologized Elsenri, grinning. Then his smile faded as his ears twitched, hearing something that Najarani and Duradel couldn't. "The hounds of hell are gathering", he said finally, "We better get going." As they left through the southeast entrance, a man garbed in black robes approached them and bowed to Maran. "Ah, dear sir, your father wish to see you immediately", he said straightening. "Alright, see you two later", said Maran, teleporting away, with the man right after him. Maran appeared in a dark hall,and he was immediately greeted by his father, the Patriach of the Olor clan. "Your trip went well?" he asked, his dark cloak flapping around him, even when the wind is still. "Yes father", answered Maran, "I found another clue scroll too." "There would be a problem with that", remarked his father, "you cannot complete it." "Why is that?" asked Maran, a sinking feeling in his stomach, he enjoyed completing treasure trails. His father turned and walked away, then answered, "Because of our enemies, look in the library." That cryptical answer left Maran slightly confused. He walked slowly to his room, contemplating this. Entering his room, he carefully stored his weapons in his locker, then grabbed a straight dragon katana and buckled it to his belt. He made a beeline for the library in the north wing of the Olor manor, where the library could be found. He nearly slammed the library door on his entrance, almost breaking the family rule to be silent in many things that do not concern noise. He calmly searched the dusty shelves, until he came to a tome regarding the family history. Brushing off the dust that had gathered on the brown and aging cover, Maran started reading. Page one was blank except for the words: The Olor family motto: To protect those who cannot protect themselves. Page two had more: The Olor family can trace its roots all to the way to the beginning of Gielinor, when Guthix lead the humans through the World Gate into Runescape. The Olor clan was already a large clan, and their Matriarch decided to make the move to Runescape. They arrived with other groups of humans. Guthix saw their elite fighting skills and commanded them to protect the group that had came with them, unless the other humans moved away. Despite many of the humans that came through the World Gate, the Olor clan realized that there was simply too many to protect and became nomads with the largest group of wanderers. A few families of these groups would later become the kings of the many cities of Gielinor. Although there were less dangers in the First Age than the Third, there were still dangers nonetheless, and most of the perils came from the hazardous things of nature. The Olor, originally was a war clan, became healers, and over the years, learned of the natural herbs that healed wounds. The rest of the page was composed of part of the family tree. End of Chapter
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