Ned is another favorite npc of mine-- the seemingly useless of duffer who ends up being so important to one of the most vital quests.

    by Redrum Frank for the Varrock Slaughter Daily

                                                      Interview with Ned of Draynor

  
              Visitors to Draynor or anyone who simply loves rope will likely know Ned, one of that towns oldest inhabitants. While Ned will be the first to tell you he’s a stay-at-home type who’s given up the rolling adventure of the high seas, few know of that life before his twining years.
                Casually dressed, Ned is every bit the old salt, from his beard to the piece of rope hanging from his pocket (a length of which I was obliged to buy) ending in a triple-goiter knot.
                Ned and I spoke on a warm evening in The Rust Anchor; about his life, his family, semaphore, and the disaster that stunted his career.
                “My son sails the Karamja lanes,” he said proudly between sips of the local brew, “yes, he’s the son of a sailor all right.”
                “A long line of sailors, then..”
                “Eerm, a line anyway- math isn’t my thing really..”
                “You ended your seafaring days captaining a cargo ship, didn’t you?”
                “Yep, going to Entrana- good folk there, fine fellows. I still get out occasionally though..”
                “What led to such a change?”
                “Well, you might say my career ended itself..”
                “Tell me about that- I don’t think our readers know the details of the ‘Brimhaven Wind’ disaster.”
                “They wouldn’t, as I am the only one who could tell of it.”
                I ordered another round; in the interim Ned sighed and scratched his chin, and I couldn’t help imagining his memories to be as long and troubling to him as his beard on a hot night.
                “We were on a whaling run, and following the herd took us off our usual course; we thought nothing of it at the time, until the long boats were late returning. It was then that we heard...”
                “Yes? Heard what?”
                “Nothing…”
                “Go on please, tell me…”
                “No, it was nothing- really nothing- it was quieter than an owl’s privy, and seaman Smyth whispered ‘we’re nearing Crandor!’
                “It was true-- that accursed fog had sprung up, and we were buffeted between the waves, held tight in one spot. We battened down and the cap’ ordered hands below and watch above armed with harpoons. If the waves let us, we would escape when we could, or sooner or later be dashed to bits. It was terrible for the men, and the Captain allowed rum rations so some of the men could sleep. I was one of them, but I slept with my harpoon that night.
                “In the dead of night I awoke with a start. I felt for a candle- and laying match to it saw I was alone; my cabin was empty, the dreadful silence of emptiness throughout the ship.
                “The bunks were a mess, harpoons lay on the floor. Somewhere above deck I could hear the dull thud of a door opening and closing with the roll of the ship, and knew we were at sea again.
                “I thought to go to deck, wondering that I’d slept so long undisturbed when I saw it- the harpoon jutting out of the wall, the harpoon that missed its mark. And then I heard the thump of that door again- but it was no door- for it was getting closer.
                “I grabbed at the harpoon but it was stuck firm- I ran to the bow of the ship and the thumping followed me above my head- trapped I was, trapped below deck, and knew now that I was the only one left alive on board- save for one.
                “Making for the stern and gathering harpoons on the way I ran below deck, to the bowels of the ship, into the dark, and hid.
                “I was in the prisoners hold. I knew the place well for I’d been in charge of keelhauling. Now I wondered if this was where my days would end. I held tight my harpoons, thinking of how strong my arm and clear my aim is with these nautical weapons.
                “The footfalls neared, shaking the shell of the ship below me. Shuddering in the dark I readied myself- my heart was in my throat, I strained to hear the door creak open and on the first footfall I threw, hard and straight- but heard nothing!
                “I was about to throw again when I heard the noise above me- I threw hard at it with a furious bellow of anger and fear but again- heard nothing..
                “Minutes were as hours standing in the black trembling. Then I heard a noise to my left I threw with all my might- but again heard nothing.
                “I don’t know how long I waited, my heart pounded in my ears, until a sudden noise at my feet-- I threw again as hard as I could, and with a solid thunk! the harpoon passed through the bottom and the sank the ship...
                “I swam all the way to the make-over mage, where I hid for days, afraid to show my face..”

Whaling ship at dock- file photo

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