War Journal

The door to room 2,147,483,647 upstairs in Milliways' living quarters has never opened, not even for its present occupants. There roosts Evil Chicken; there remains a great hoard of treasure; there stands guard one of Jordan Kennedy's Providor Units.

The door has never opened, because its occupants never needed it to open. And for all purposes, it can't open. Here, Evil Chicken was free to use his teleporting ability again, and as for the Providor unit? It was built with teleportation tech built right in, teleportation tech that works even in Evil Chicken's home world, where his teleportation magic doesn't. At least, not anymore. Not for now.

Really, the Providor Unit standing guard is superfluous. Milliways' magic dictated that no uninvited guests could ever wander into a room anyway. Not like anyone has tried it to Chicken's knowledge. So, it was quite safe for the Providor Unit to disappear once in a while to take care of some needs while Chicken slept.

---

The Devourer has arrived once more in the realm of the Killerwatts. It is unlike the hunters who pour though the howling portal. They are of flesh which burns, and they come only to kill. But the Devourer is of light and force, its hungry heart a metal life draining prison. It comes to feed, and tonight it feasts greedily, dragging many more of our kindred into its hungry maw than is usual. I have told the young ones to not attack it, but they do not listen. Our manner of fighting only provides the beast with a foretaste of our essence, yet many still fight on.

I can no longer run. I can't hide.

---

The skies over the southern swamps of Morytania are always overcast, thank the Lord, and thunderstorms are by no means rare. But what one of the vyrewatch patrolling the area witnessed was extreme and to not investigate would be foolish. Such frequent lightning could mean that some scientist was conducting unsanctioned experiments. Such a scientist could be working for the rebellion.

He ascended to a greater height with powerful beats of his large, black, leathery wings and glided toward the phenomena, adjusting his course so to skim around the phenomena rather than fly through it. He concentrated on any psychic chatter coming from the ground, but it was silent except for the desires of a frog for prey and companionship and the hungry moans of a ghoul, lost in the swamp. The air, though, smelled clean in pockets. Dry. With a tinge of ozone. Closer to center of the area lightning was striking at so frequently, the air ignited here and there. Gases from the swamp, no doubt. Cautiously, the lone vyrewatch tightened the lazy circle of his flight path to investigate the phenomenon more closely.

The closer he flew, the more he flirted with fate. The lightning strikes were happening so close he could feel that the air was incrementally warmer. Still no significant psychic presence detected. Then he saw.

A woman. Red haired. Sun kissed skin. Red eyes. Tracking him through the sky. Zero psychic presence.

And after a few seconds, no physical presence.

He only felt something small and light land on his back before there were warm blooded but scentless arms wrapped over his wings under his arms, palms covering his eyes. Then came the sensation of long, luxurious hair tickling his cheek as whatever... whoever, approached his cold and bloodless ear to speak. The warmth was there, the tactile sensation was there. He could feel the blood flowing through the palms which blinded him, the regular heart beat which proclaimed human!

But the lack of a scent, the lack of a mind, the lack of an actual mass... what was this thing?

It whispered, its breath as warm as any human, "Guess who?"

Lightning struck the pair, but before they could fall back toward the ground, the male vyrewatch disappeared from the sky and reappeared on the ground. The "woman." however, did not reappear.

When another vyrewatch patrol found him, he was barely alive (for however "alive" vampires can get). His shirt was mostly burned away, revealing a dark Lichtenberg figure snaking from his back to his chest. Most shocking to the patrol that found him, though, were the two palms burned into his face, sealing his eyes shut. This wasn't someone who accidentally flew above the clouds. This was... How do sunburns like that happen?

---

The door to room 2,147,483,647 upstairs in Milliways' living quarters has never opened, not even for its present occupants. There roosts Evil Chicken; there remains a great hoard of treasure; there stands guard one of Jordan Kennedy's Providor Units.

Killerwatt plane
Evil Chicken had grown so used to using the Killerwatt plane as an intermediate stop before reaching his world that at first he did not realize that he no longer needed to make a stop there. So there he was, perched atop the still faceless Providor unit, watching as the sentient thunderclouds and other various electromagnetic beasties approached. Evil Chicken's first instinct was to teleport to the portal between this world and his world, but then he remembered Jordan said about the Providor units.

"the bot is energy-proof, a lightning bolt would just recharge it."

Still, he was worried. There seemed to be more thunderclouds than usual approaching. Maybe it was because he was at a higher vantage point than usual. Maybe not. He waited, as did the bot.

Scene: Professor Oddenstein and his assistant are in the laboratory. Oddenstein is an old man with wild, white hair and wears a white labcoat. Typical mad scientist look. Penny, his assistant, is a young, red haired woman. She wears a plain brown set of monks' robes and multiple silver necklaces, each one with a different pendant, one for each god of the realm. They are at a desk. Penny is writing on a peice of parchment. Oddenstein is holding a vacuum tube.

Oddenstein: "I better replace this part, have you finished drawing it?"

Death wasn't a convenience anymore.

Not when you couldn't rely on teleportation to get away from the crowded cities.

Not when you couldn't get away from people who would gladly take away the life you had just fought (sorta) to get back.

For 7,000 years, he had been wrestling death and winning. Three millennia ago, death had begrudgingly realized that Evil Chicken was not going to stay dead. The will of the beast was too strong. The fight over life had degraded to a mere staring contest, but it was a mere formality.

Death's only consolation was that it was his choice where Evil Chicken would be reborn. It was the same place he put most all those who had the protection of the gods after they had died. A place full of bitterness and disappointment, some of which Evil Chicken himself had created.

Soon after the Wizard Guild's successful attempt to exercise further control over teleportation, the reasoning for the choosing the place of Evil Chicken's place of rebirth was made clear. Death could no longer hold Evil Chicken. Death, however, could find Evil Chicken at the hands of the angry mobs of Lumbridge, and drag him in for staring contest after staring contest.

Death no longer had any fight left. The warriors he guided back to Lumbridge did however. With the option to directly teleport to a more remote place in Glienor gone, Evil Chicken had to once again fight for life.

But then, there was teleporting into other realms. Realms where the Wizard Guild held no power.

Death was no longer a convenience. And so Evil Chicken was finally shaking off bad habits he had learned while he was sure that his death was meaningless. He was relearning how to survive.

And part of that was learning how to use his natural gifts in novel ways.

Have you ever wondered how it is that this chicken can speak to humans?

---

The whispering started with the mages, more specifically the two mages who were wielding the staves that users of the more ancient of magicks tended to carry around. Magicks that manipulated blood, shadow, smoke, and ice, rather than the air, water, earth, and fire that more primitive magic did. Magick used by the Mahjarrat and the Empty Lord Zaros before the God Wars erased their histories. Few beside the users of the Magicks knew the origin of the ancient spells.

Doubt. The Dark Lord Zaros ruled many of the same lands the Saradomists now occupied and defended from the influence of Zamorak. But as willing as the armies of Lord Saradomin were to fight off Zamorak cultists, they were adamant in denying the existence of Zaros, who even Zamorak allegedly feared. As much as a threat Zamorak posed, it was dwarfed by the threat posed by Zaros. And yet Saradomin and his priests would not even acknowledge his existence.

It was but a seed of doubt that made it easier for them to consider seriously the same questions Lady Palana asked herself while in the Wilderness. The questions she thought she was asking herself, anyway. About the apple, about the chicken they were escorting south, about why they were doing what they were. Why are we following the river?

The hunting group was now in the forest surrounding Draynor Manor, the huge estate north of Draynor village, formerly occupied by the late Count Draynor. The influence of the vampire could still be felt, though, even outside the estate. Why are going east to get around the manor? The forest around the manor was still dangerous, and taking the western route would have been safer. The forest didn't come all the way to the Asgarnian wall there, but in the east it stretched all the way to the river. The western route is more well traveled. Why are we sneaking around as if we were thieves?

"What are you whispering about?"

The progress of the group was halted by Evil Chicken, who had been been following Lady Palana closely since Edgeville, pretending to be her familiar. It took Lady Palana a few seconds to halt herself. The apple she was carrying preoccupied her thoughts. It still showed no sign of oxidation around the wound, which still looked as fresh as when she cut it. But as preoccupied as she was, the fact that Evil Chicken had stopped pretending to be her familiar wasn't going to go unnoticed. "Why have you stopped? This forest is not a place good place to stop and talk." She wasn't just asking Evil Chicken; she meant the question to be heard by the whole group.

"It is better than doing it out in the open where someone may see us. Or hear us," said Evil Chicken.

"Lady Palana," one of the archers spoke up, "why have we taken the eastern route around the manor? The western route is much safer."

"Why are we doing this at all?" The knight who had been poisoned. "We are supposed to be doing Lord Saradomin's holy work, and instead we are doing the work of this evil beast and delivering that fruit of the wilderness to some place, only the Lord knows where-"

"Ingrate!" hissed the rooster.

"Draynor, and we are nearly there-"

"And what will we do there?" Asked one of the mages, cutting Lady Palana off. "We can't be expected to defend this... thing if someone recognizes it."

At this, Lady Palana stopped to stare at Evil Chicken. "We have made a promise. But... what will we do in Draynor?"

"We will divide up the apple, like I told you." Hmmm. Staring contest. Evil Chicken could do that.

"And we are supposed to just wait around while that is done and hope no one sees us?" Again, the knight who was saved by the apple.

"You already received your portion! You do not have to wait around," snapped the rooster. Ah, those trees look familiar.

He was saved from a righteous (and a bit stupid) death by one of the enemies of his god. And now he was aiding this beast as if he had some debt to repay. Evil Chicken was right, he had no reason to wait. He unsheathed his sword and charged. "Begone, unclean thing!"

Evil Chicken took to the air. "The deal is off. The apple is mine!"

No one had seen Evil Chicken fly in thousands of years, and it was generally accepted that he could not. Evil Chicken was twice as large, twice as heavy as a normal chicken, and chickens weren't exactly graceful fliers. Why would he fly, when he could teleport anyway? The warriors were stunned by the feat, and even more so by what he did next. He physically attacked Lady Palana, who was prepared for a magical attack from Evil Chicken. The knight who had charged Evil Chicken was not expecting him to take flight, and so, as he continued his charge, he tracked the rooster's movement, taking his eyes off the ground and the gnarled roots in it. Already off balance, he tripped on one of the roots and fell onto Lady Palana, unwittingly helping Evil Chicken knock her into a tree. The tree awoke and made an attempt to grab Palana, finally freeing the apple from her grip. Evil Chicken immediately stopped his attack and headed to retrieve it.

"Stop him!" She shouted as she struggled against the tree that was now trying to hold her and the foolhardy knight prisoner. "Don't let him take the apple! Don't let the apple fall from Saradomin's hand!" The forest around them started to come alive.

Evil Chicken was in the air again, with the apple in his claws. Claws that were made for perching and walking and running, not holding things in the air. At least it wasn't wiggling, like the demon bunnies did. It took concentration to keep the apple from falling, it took concentration to knock arrows out of the air with wind magic, it took concentration to keep heading toward Draynor Manor.

A water spell knocked him and the apple out of the air. So near the fence, so close. Palana and the warriors of the group were closing in on Evil Chicken, but were being slowed by the trees that taking swipes at them. The archers and the mages had stopped in a treeless spot where they could safely fire off arrows and and spells. Now that Evil Chicken was out of the air, the archers could no longer reach him, however, they wondered if they could hit him at all anyway. He was knocking their arrows out of the air, something which he never did before. He never physically attacked people or ran away from a fight, either.

He was still getting hit by the mages' spells. Please, wake up, please trip then up. He located the apple and ran toward it. "Warthead! Warthead! Get inside the fence!" An ice spell hit him, temporarily halting his progress, followed by a fire spell.

The ground below the mages and the archers finally came alive. Vines erupted from the ground and started to flail wildly, distracting the mages. Evil Chicken took the temporary halt in the assault to grab the apple and take to the air once again. He was almost over the fence when a spell knocked him and the apple down again, but thankfully he was inside the manor estate this time. "Warthead! Warthead! Where are you?"

A goblin ran up to the chicken. "Warthead, hurry! Get me and that apple into the house, I need to talk to Oddenstein and there are Saradomists after me."

The goblin scooped up the injured chicken and the apple and ran into Count Draynor's former home.

Carried around by a goblin... There was a time when he would have killed Warthead for looking at him funny. There was a time when he wouldn't have used such cowardly, deceitful tactics. There was a time when he wasn't afraid of dying.

Times are changing.

The first one was a mistake.

Of course, you can't control where you end up when you teleport into a realm.

Well, not when there is a well established ummm.... door.

But, Milliways' has a very well established front door. Heck, you can feel it across realms.

An established door on both sides.

But doesn't Milliways' door supposedly pop up in random places in other realms?

That's not a well established door.

Hey! Don't the imps have a similar inter-realm teleport? Wait, the leprechauns do too!

Well, I can't open the door from this side anyway.

Nope, you just haven't found the door on this side.

Or maybe Milliways doesn't want you.

Enough of this, let me tell the story!

So anyway, the first apple was a blunder. Evil Chicken forgot that teleporting into Glienor without using some 'door' would place him on some random spot on the planet's surface. Luckily, it hasn't been some random spot in the universe or even over one of the planet's oceans. Or under.

Now, why is that? Something interesting to study. Later.

Second, that pesky ban on unofficial teleportation. You wind up at a random spot, and you can't teleport to where you need to go. Well, unless you use a sanctioned teleportation spell, but that never gets you exactly where you need to be anyway.

So there's a chicken perched on an apple in the middle of nowhere, on a part of the planet he's never been to before. Oh well, teleport off realm, teleport back, wind up in a different spot. Maybe it will be closer this time?

So, there's a chicken, perched on an apple in the middle of a cold desolate place. There is nothing but scorched earth for miles and miles. Scratch that cold thing, its just the north wind. The earth churns below and the ground feels warm... Oh no.

There was something preventing him from teleporting out. Then he heard it. A human in heavy armor running from something. Evil Chicken turned around to see where the noise was coming from and saw not just one human running, but several. Not in a tight group either, they where gradually spreading out, but still running in the same general direction. Chasing them was a revenant. A revenant who made sure to give Evil Chicken a quick grin as it passed by.

Dessert

Dessert... Dammit, dessert! That is all Evil Chicken had become to these fools! Dessert! Something that could be dealt with later! Sure, the revenant had at least been courteous enough to teleblock his 'dessert'. But Evil Chicken was not something you could stick in the freezer and eat later.

The damn Wizard's Guild. They did this to him. They clipped his wings.

"I am not dessert! I am a main course!" The chicken clucked, and the air seemed to solidify in front of the chicken. The semi-solid air raced toward the revenant, gaining the shape of a packet of waves. The first wave hit the revenant hard in the back, the second and third hitting him as he turned to look for the source. Each wave took a little bit of the revenant's hard won reality away from it, making the ghostly being a bit more... ghostly. The revenant's reward for turning around was another group of highly pressurized air bursts, right in the chest.

The humans who were running from the revenant were taking turns checking if the revenant was still following, and it was one of the group's mages who noticed that they were no longer being chased. He noticed the revenant had become a bit more ethereal, and was dumbfounded when he saw why.

"What the fSTOP!"

Vines came forth from the dirt under the revenant and wrapped around its ghostly form. The revenant was now trapped temporarily and could not flee from the arrows, fire spells, and armored warriors coming toward it. Or Evil Chicken's attacks. The revenant could still counter attack though, and hit Evil Chicken with a poison dart.

The sting of the dart caused the attacks from Evil Chicken to stop. But not the poison. Oh no, Evil Chicken wished to gloat.

"Has it been this long? Have you forgotten who I am? You can't poison me!"
Especially now, thought Evil Chicken, still perched on the apple he came in on. Weak poisons.... Evil Chicken sent another air spell to join the arrows and fire spells raining down on the revenant. The armored warriors were now letting their swords, axes, and hammers contribute to the effort to rob the revenant of its physical form. The entangling vines that were holding the revenant in place were loosening, giving the revenant the opportunity to slip a poisoned dagger under one of the warriors' plates of armor.

"Agk! Did anyone bring an anti-poison potion?"

"You should have drank some before we came out here."

The vines fell, but an ice spell hit the revenant soon after, preventing it from moving at least until the next round of fire spells hit it.

"Just retreat from here a little ways and tend to your wounds, we are almost done here."

The warriors kept pounding away at the revenant as fire spells, arrows, wind spells, more arrows, and then ice spells assaulted it in what seemed to be a well practiced routine. Soon there was nothing left of the revenant.

The warriors, minus the fellow who was poisoned, then turned their attention toward the chicken. They had not forgotten who he was, and were puzzled about why he had attacked the revenant they were hunting. Or rather, luring into an ambush. They were puzzled about why he was still here, after all his victim was dead. Or gone. Whatever happens to revenants after you defeat them. Most of all they were puzzled about why he wasn't attacking them, or hasn't attacked anyone in months. They raised their weapons in preparation for an attack.

"You dare threaten me? Wearing that bulky metal armor, wielding metal weapons, you dare threaten me?!"

"Do you think we would come out here hunting without the protection of our Lord, Saradomin, against the effects of magic?" questioned a female sounding voice from one of the suits of armor. "Do you think we are novices?"

Ah, so she's the one holding a sword so close to my face, thought Evil Chicken. "Saradomin?! Sara--" careful now, you don't want them to become useless.

Off in the distance, the warrior who was poisoned started coughing violently.

Evil Chicken hopped of the apple. "This apple contains a very potent anti-poison. Your friend will only need a slice to cure himself from that poison. Take a slice and feed it to him."

More coughing. The woman spoke up again. Noisy woman, only someone who thought she was the leader of some sorts would speak so brashly. "Why should we trust you, why would you have anti-poison with you? No poison that we know of has had any effect on you."

"What a cruel thing to do! Test poisons on a poor little innocent chicken."

"You are none of those things! Why would you have anti-poison with you?" More coughing.

"Why do you think? This is a one of a kind thing! An anti-poison apple! An apple that lifts the spirits, that increases vitality! An apple that can bring people back from the dead! It is so unique, and it is mine!"

"And yet you offer to give us a piece of it. For free?"

"What good will this apple do me out here in the wilderness?"

"What are you doing out here in the Wilderness, foul beast?"

"I need an escort to Draynor. Once there I can give you each a slice of the apple to do whatever you wish. But I keep the core. But first give your friend his share, he sounds like he is about to die."

With a nervous sigh the woman warrior knelt down, took out a dagger, carved out a chunk of apple, and took the chunk of apple to the poisoned warrior. The other warriors kept their weapons pointed at Evil Chicken, and now the archers in the hunting party moved in and readied their bows to skewer the chicken should he attempt anything. Still, though, why wouldn't Evil Chicken just teleport out of harm's way? Why was he asking for an escort to Draynor?

The poisoned warrior's coughing had gotten so bad that the leader of the expedition was wondering whether her warrior would choke to death on the apple chunk she held in her hand before the poison killed him. She called over one of the mages to hold the warrior down while she did the best she could to crush the apple chunk and get at least some of the juice in his mouth. She succeeded, and immediately the warrior felt his airways clear up and he stopped coughing soon afterward. She took this opportunity to feed him the rest of the apple chunk, and as if by instinct he ate it, even though it was crushed and a bit dirty. The mage let go of him, and after a little while, he rose to his feet.

"You see? These apples are valuable!" shouted Evil Chicken. Woops "I did lie, before, about this apple being unique. Unique to this world, maybe, but I can get more!"

"Now, about that escort to Draynor..."

(Before the Magic Guild found a way to contain The Evil Chicken)

(OOC: The Evil Chicken no longer threatens the dullards of the realm of Glienor. This was written by a friend before the evil chicken was partially banished and will probably provide an interesting subplot until JaGeX writes the evil chicken back into the game plot. The books mentioned, except for Principia Discordia, could both be found in game, so the existence of the passages describing the evil chicken are canonical, however, neither of the backstories are confirmed as canon yet)