With the last clang of her pickaxe against runeite, the last of the ore was hers. The ore would not respawn before she had time to walk to the bank and back, so she started southward toward the border. Clicking over to her inventory panel, she counted 9 ore. They were in high demand over at Seer's right now, so she could sell them as soon as she wanted for a total of 180k, give or take. 180k in one trip! Her heart raced. Now to leave! She sat down and leafed through her spellbook for Return. 
	Phtttb. Virurent red blotches covered her screen. 
	Vivid red entered from the bottom left. Her eyes locked onto the text, dark scarlet and evil: lvl 10 Felice. There he was, pink from his pink head to his pink toes, svelte in mismatched leather--yet there was no time but to watch her earnings vanish without chance of retrieval. Phttb. The world went black, her runeite spilled everywhere, and a solemn cross rose from the spot she fell. Groaning, she dematerialized, losing all. Her chat, glinting in contrast with the darkening screen, heckled her.
	Felice: cya
	He was able to fit in a waving animation before the screen shifted to the chapel. Still black, murmurous and serene world was drawn before her. Soothing mult-colored light seeped in around her, illuminating first Brother Eamon's kind if not overly artifical and reserved eyes, lined in crow's feet. A ring of graying hair set about his head as a tired halo of piety. He held out his symbol and prayed. Light burst about them, and she was back on her feet.
	Edeline: Thank you, Brother.
	Brother Eamon: Saradomin has given you life anew. Do not take his blessing for granted, proselyte.
	Edeline: Yes, Brother.
	Brother Eamon: In return, all that the Church asks is a small monetary donation.
	Edeline: Ee--
	Her pockets were not empty. As always, she retained her three most valuable items -- so three of the ores were hers! From here, the trek to the borderlands was long. It was the best she could do for now, but three at a time was fairly poor money. The holy man looked expectantly at her, and she squirmed. 
	Edeline: I have nothing from the grave, but after I see the bank--
	She was gone. She sprinted straight to the nearest bank, in the little willow copse town and, finding it empty apart from a hushed conversation between Teller #4 and there he was. 
	Edeline: Felice.
	Felice ceased conversing and turned to face her.
	Felice: What? 
	Felice: It's you.
	She gaped, facing her killer. Still threadbare, she had nothing but her rags to twist.
	Felice: You sure didn't look it wearing rags and carrying that broken bronze pickaxe, but half an inventory of runeite! You're a pure, aren't you?
	Edeline: Give it back.
	Felice: You lost it because you were weak. 
	He took off her pink feathered hat and pointed at her.
	Felice: If you really wanted to protect your ore, you would be strong enough to do so.
	Felice: Pures are nice in theory, but even I can kill them with these.
	Felice toyed with a few cheap bronze arrows from his quiver.
	Edeline: You PK!
	Felice: And you're a miner. Both have the same end result, apparently. What is so different?
	Felice: Kismet that you should learn this lesson from me before misguidely investing more time into this silly pursuit and that windfall should grant me the best find yet. No more broken armor and handful of coins.
	Felice: I must be off. 
	With a flash, he theatrically threw his hand up and vanished into a spark. Edeline fumed silently, fingering her remaining ores. Compared to that flamboyant archer, she felt naked in her default rags.
	"Welcome to Redstone Bank. How may I help you?"
	"May I see my safe box?"
	"Of course," he said as he checked over her information. "Right this way."
	He led her downstairs to the vault rooms, tapping off each number with his finger until he arrived at #3044828.
	"Go ahead."
	She stepped into a gaudy room of expensive clothes, scattered sceptors, and treasure. She quickly outfitted herself with decent robes and a new pickaxe and placed her ore in a bin.
	"Thank you!" she called as she ran out. The teller nodded and locked up behind her.
	Once out, she looked about. Discouraged by all her deaths and Felice's words, she did not want to return to the wilderness at all. Runeite just wasn't worth it. She could make more mining adamantine, mithril, smelting anything really. But there was just such a closed and hushed market about runeite. So difficult to source and so prestigious. The mining was exclusive, too. Anyone could get to mithril, so the mines would be crammed of desperate miners similarly discouraged by the prospects of moving up. How could she give up her dreams like that? If she was stronger, could she survive? Disheartened, she set out west. The terrain thickened into a lush, vibrant forest tinged with pine green and bright fungus and red clay. The childish chatter of goblins echoed here and there, though not particularly from any direction, and chilled her with the threat of losing even this much. 
	I must get stronger, she thought to herself. 
	Too fearful for now, she crept through the dense woods, light doing little work to illuminate potential threats in the dark shadows beyond the trees. A clearing broke and the River Lum flowed idyllically through its center. Following now the River, she passed by chatty fishermen, comparing their catches and techniques. They didn't make so much money as her, but they looked without a care in the world. She envied them in a way. Passing by further, she breached farmlands and saw the farmers out about in their fields, sowing here, and setting out feed there. They made less and worked hard, with furrowed brows and drenching sweat. She watched them with pity.
	She suddenly remembered the minepit a little further north and east. Changing routes, she ambled along there, cutting through another dense section of forest, though this time, mysteriously quiet. At the crest of the terrain, she looked down and saw the pit with a couple of iron veins. She slid down and pulled her pickaxe and got into her stance.