"And suddenly, a man wearing.... seven pairs of gloves.... came bursting through it? He was ranting about the Grand Exchange prices of Grapes. It was incredibly odd, but to make matters worse, he stole all of my grapes! My lovely, succulent grapes.... MY GRAPES! NO MATTER! I shall move on from this rut. He who is without grapes is without soul. It is unacceptable. To Varrock, I go. I have heard that the guards there hoard 'em."
And thus I went on a walk towards the good ol' city of Avarrocka (Varrock), passing by a hoard of stinky filthy goblins.
Out of a sudden I got a deep thirst when my eye fell on this beauty of a phat thick diary cow.