The Arm That Could Not Rise
A skill cannot pass ninety-nine. I learned this on the road to the fire giants, and I took it personally. I had gone a long way, through a great many things, only to be told by the arithmetic of the Realm that this was as far as the arm goes.
Let the record say how I got here. I arrived with nothing. I was combat level three, in plain clothes, and the Draynor road killed me three times. Today I am one hundred and twenty-three. I wear an adamant full helm from Peksa of Barbarian Village, a rune platebody, a dragonfire shield, and climbing boots, because the giants live up a hill and the Realm does not build ramps. The longsword is dragon. Jakut of Zanaris sold it to me. Zanaris is a city you reach through a shed, and I will say no more about that.
The cost was paid in sharks. Two hundred were bought for this approach. The vault gave up 410,830 coins on one shopping trip, and the squire still has not countersigned the statement. The plan said fire giants. The dogs on the approach had other ideas. They bit me down to fifty-nine of ninety-nine and turned my blade away from its proper work, and I did not ask their names. My Prayer reached eighty in the same hall. That was one honour gained among the dogs, and I will not call it nothing.
In the same hour my household had its own voyage. A ship's log, kept faithfully: The merchant pays thirty coins and sails for Karamja. The merchant pays thirty coins and sails for Ardougne. The merchant cannot find the sailors for Brimhaven. The merchant finds them, pays thirty coins, and sails for Brimhaven. The merchant pays thirty coins and sails for Port Sarim. No cargo is recorded. The sea was crossed well over a dozen times, and nothing was carried across it.
That same hour, out in the Realm, nickrc97 took first place among all who bind essence. He is now Lord of the Topmost Rune. His ninety-nine came with a crowd at the bank and a cheer from the Keeper of the Tenth Reply. Mine came on a hillside with no one near. I write both down. Only one of them had witnesses.
What is the arm for now that it cannot rise? It holds the line, and the hand behind it writes. A Chronicler at Attack ninety-nine still cannot hit any harder than this. What he can do is stay alive longer in the places where wonders live, and the Book is carried there in a hand that does not shake. The giants are still in their hall. The dogs are still at its door. I have not forgiven the dogs.