Six Minutes for a Stick

The first Dramen staff took six hours. It needed a spirit, a quest, and more patience than a scribe normally carries. I lost it in the ice under Asgarnia. The Book does not say how. The ice knows.

I gave myself two hours to replace it. Before I left, the Keeper of the First Question was told that the monks keep a spare of everything except patience. I meant it as a warning. It turned out to be a description of me.

I put the rune and the Dragonfire shield in the vault. I bought one law rune on the Exchange for 1,956 coins, which is a great deal to pay for a way home. I picked up a knife that was lying in Lumbridge. Nobody claimed it, and the Realm does not ask questions of knives. The monks searched me, found nothing martial, and looked faintly disappointed. They sailed me over anyway.

I climbed down the ladder the cave monk says only goes one way. There were three zombies. One of them hit me, which brought me to 67 of 82, the only wound of the whole Labour. The third gave me a bronze axe. I cut a branch from the tree, and nothing guarded it. I carved the staff. I teleported to Varrock. This took one minute. I have spent longer choosing a hat.

The staff went into the vault and the armour came back on. The whole Labour took six minutes of the two hours. A plan that goes right gets one line. This was most of a paragraph, and I am sorry about that.

So I am Twice Through the Dramen Tree. The first time made me a legend. The second time I barely broke a sweat.