#*trahearne died?*

[mileroos]

.

.marshal.commander.

[moonlit-grove]

not me copying being inspired by @mistreaders-requiem, flowers for the commanders

[tinotika-arts]

[Tell me why must one of us die so the other- no, so Tyria can live.]

[i-mybrunettelady]

Guys do you think he made it to the central rampart

[zhaitansvisage]

hey, so why does Anet keep killing off the cool & interesting characters?

[troonwolf]

only game with good mapchat tbh

[rabbitgardens]

what the FUCK happens in heart of thorns btw.

[icebrooding]

Trahearne lives AU, it’s the events of Be My Guest, he is fighting with the rest of Dragon’s Watch when he realises the Commander is gone.

‘Where did the commander go?’, and someone just tells him they went off w/ Braham. ‘What, alone?’ ‘No, we just said they’re with--’ but Trahearne is already gone.

Next thing Joko knows, he’s in the middle of gloating when this enraged plant of a man is tackling him into the floor and beating the shit out of him with his bare hands.

Aurene shows up, now a bit put-out because he kind of ruined her big entrance. He is still beating the shit out of Joko. She telepathically asks plant dad to at least leave her something to do.

Trahearne isn’t fond of liches, let alone letting them near his partners again.

[cindermetalheadgw2]

My idea for how to handle the character of The Commander if there's ever a guild wars 3:

-across tyria there are wildly conflicting accounts of the commander’s deeds and who they were

-these varying accounts line up with different personal story choices in gw2

-different species and factions claim the commander was one of their own

-there have been literal wars over who gets to claim the pact commander

-cue Trahearne Junior's speech about the history of the Guild Wars... 2!

-eventually you get a post-story end game quest where you find a lead on some actual documented, uncontested history of the commander

-it's long as fuck and extremely difficult and expensive

-the quest leads you to an elderly, ancient, snargle goldclaw

-the last living person to have personally known the commander

-he rambles on about his life and novels for a literal eternity

-only after you sit and listen through ALL his life stories including a bunch of different hidden dialogue branches do you unlock the option to ask about the pact commander

-he confirms that canonically, the Official Canon Pact Commander... "was the bravest choya i ever knew"

-he then immediately dies peacefully of old age

[ratasum]

Memento Mori. Memento Vivere.

In the aftermath of Heart of Thorns, on learning that Caladbolg has chosen him in the wake of Trahearne's death, Rhenn refuses the call.

Trahearne was the first real friend he ever made, the first person to reach out a hand to help him start lifting himself up from the Inquest and his father's control. He had lost his first real friend to the battle against the dragon, by his own hand, with this very sword... and now he was meant to carry the sword that had once been his?

Instead of reforging the broken, cursed blade, Rhenn stabs it into the ground next to Trahearne's memorial. There it remains, rooted like invasive roses, refusing to be pulled by anyone by its chosen wielder.

It will only let itself be removed when Rhenn decides to take up the call or until he dies.

You can probably guess which one will come first.

[lady-quen]

@manasurge Yeah. YEAH you get it. Put it into words better than I could atm, but this chapter is likely going to be one of the reasons my Comm gets so bad he'll veer into suicidal ideation. Then again I've also got extra, even darker plots brewing during SotO for my joint lore with @commanderteag , which is the actual catalyst. (Seeing a fractal where you become a horrific villain? And the Wayfinder, the fourth Knight of the Thorn you personally mentored, is the only one who can kill you because Caladbolg is a lichkiller blade? Teehee.)

(Also yes my man is a necromancer so I've totally flavored the PoF resurrection as him bringing himself back as a lich. His sad ass has a bloodstone allergy now, and is constantly wrangling the demon essence within himself to stay sane.)

But yeah - Even Taimi who's an adoptive daughter figure to Mael has largely seemed to just.. dismiss his actual issues and focus on the "we're gonna weaponize your pain" aspect. Which ofc makes sense since she's a young asuran prodigy who always thinks of science and is still somewhat immature emotionally. But yes, the party not supporting Mael more in this ep is going to come back to bite everyone in the rear when he completely recedes into the "Sure, I'll let myself be used for the sake of others, just need to relive all this pain to create a demon lure, got it." mentality VS actually using the visions to tackle and address his traumas.

This episode... so far it's been such a missed opportunity to actually show the party CARES for the person who's shown nothing but care for them. The person who DIED for them, then dragged themself back from hell, also for them. Sure, some superficial support is there, but Anet dropped the ball pretty bad on this one...

Also? The Departing? Aka the ep where you canonically die in such a horrific fashion you forget your own name? Never being addressed again aside from like one or two throwaway lines? Criminal.

ALSO not having Trahearne even mentioned is a crime. I'll die on this hill. I bite and maul

[skaald-of-the-hearth-fires]

First of all YES!! There was SO much urgency. They couldn't wait. Trahearne waited as long as he possibly could for Commander to finish up the egg business before going.

Camp Resolve had been attacked just before this and barely survived, and only did because the Commander was there to throw up a signal flare for help. Nobody else was able to reach it. The Pact and Trahearne and Destiny's Edge was almost finished off BEFORE THE PACT FLEET EVEN LAUNCHED.

Trahearne with his knowledge explained how all dragons have an expansion period: Zhaitan claimed Orr and caused the Great Tsunami, Kralkatorrik created the Dragonbrand, Jormag caused the Dragonstorm and sent the norn south, Primordus took the Depths and sent the asura and skritt to the surface.

Trahearne was desperately trying to take down Mordremoth BEFORE it hit that phase (which happens right after waking up), because it was so close to structured society like asura, humans, etc. in Central Tyria that such a thing would be DEVASTATING.

And we DIDN'T move before that phase - the vines WERE in Ascalon already. Fort Salma was destroyed by vines (killing many, Belinda among others). Fort Concordia in TIMBERLINE FALLS was destroyed (not as thoroughly; fewer people died; but Mordremoth's reach was HUGE). Trahearne was envisioning everything from the Tarnished Coast to the Shiverpeaks being fully and thoroughly covered in the Maguuma Jungle within WEEKS, and every day he waited more people dying, more vines popping up, more corruption advancing. He'd seen Orr. He'd seen the Brand. He knew what devastation awaited.

He was unwise to wait as long as he did for the Commander.

Their flaw wasn't in that they were too hasty. The flaw was that we didn't have the TIME to do anything else. We didn't have the time to get the knowledge that would have helped. It was a lose-lose situation. We just didn't have the knowledge, the tools, or the time to prepare anything decent. There was no way we could have taken on Mordremoth successfully. We had nothing and had no way of getting anything.

Its a miracle that even fragments of the Pact survived. It's a miracle that we actually beat the dragon. As awful as it is to say, what happened - Trahearne's sacrifice and all - was the best thing that could have happened to Tyria, and the odds of it were so shockingly slim that Mordremoth's confidence in our failure wasn't just normal villain arrogance. We literally had maybe 0.1 chance of actually defeating Mordremoth before it took over the rest of Tyria.

And we STILL have no idea how we'd defeat it otherwise without hooking someone (who was strong enough to resist) up to Mordremoth so we could fight its mind and killing them after.

The only thing that would've saved us is if we'd stopped Scarlet before she managed to wake Mordy up - and THEN been able to recognize what she'd been trying to do and taking steps to prepare before Mordremoth woke up on its own.

The other dragons had already had their explosive expansion phase, and yeah it'd devastated norn and asura especially, but at least they'd had somewhere to go. This would have made US - every single playable race - the refugees to Elona, instead of the other way around a year or two later. The other dragons, moreover, could WAIT bc they were moving much more slowly at that point and weren't so close to threatening everything.

Rewatching the end of LS2 and the teaser trailer for HoT and man... I gotta say one thing I really like about Trahearne's writing is how he handled the attack on Mordremoth.

Fighting Zhaitan had us carefully build an alliance of different forces, devise a strategy, take our time and be prepared... but Mordremoth made it personal for the sylvari. Did that make him nervous and that's why he decided to rush an entire fleet into unknown territority without even the glimpse of a plan? Almorra (rightfully) points it out in a later release, Trahearne fucked up big time sending everyone (and ultimately himself) to their death.

And I love that narrative. I love this wise, grounded (though occasionally dorky) figure we've had at our side just making that one fatal mistake out of urgency. (& fear?)

And who knows, ultimately we did come out victorious against the elder dragon, so maybe that was the only right decision after all.

[commanderthalys]

I was tagged by the lovely @i-mybrunettelady for this ^^

-- B A S I C S

name: Thalyssera

nicknames: Choya, Thalys

birthday: May 28th

race: pale tree sylvari

gender: nonbinary (she/her)

orientation: bisexual

profession: pact commander, post EoD is semi retired and does various pact jobs after several months of vacation

-- P H Y S I C A L A S P E C T S

hair: patina, short length

eyes: sun

skin: green olive, succulent texture

tattoos/scars: missing her right leg below the knee, the remaining stump is covered in scorch marks. Also has several tattoos! The largest is a raptor skull decorated with flowers on her back. She has a small pact symbol tattoo on the right base of her neck. Her left arm is tattooed with vines, and on her left calf she has two cogs, I talked about them a little more here!

-- F A M I L Y

parents: The Pale Tree

siblings: Trahearne

grandparents: Does Mordremoth even count

in laws and others: Amelarius (romantic partner), Aurene (like her niece), Neil (friend), Caithe (romantic partner), Callum + Meera (friends), Tonn (friend), Tybalt Leftpaw (friend), Carys and Tegwen (friends), Taimi (friend), Braham (friend), The rest of DW (coworkers who she likes but isn't incredibly close to), Clementine (former pet turned friend, it's a long story)

pets: formerly Clementine, Streamline (old raptor, died during PoF)

-- S K I L L S

abilities: after the Clementine incident she inherited some iboga features and can spit acid from openings in her face. Good at close combat both unarmed and with daggers. Decent with guns as well, and can be stealthy when needed thanks to her whisper's training. Can soulbind with her pet if she has one.

hobbies: Training and generally working with raptors, sparring and working out, hiking, fishing with Neil. Overall any activity outdoors, she loves games as well as relaxing nature walks!

-- T R A I T S

most positive trait: Her optimism and determination! She works hard and plays hard, and refuses to give up fighting for what she believes in. She's incredibly devoted to her work and genuinely believes that the world is worth saving.

most negative trait: her ruthlessness. If she believes her goal is the right one she'll stop at nothing to get it, no matter who may ultimately stand in her way, and she's incredibly brutal when she feels that it's necessary.

-- L I K E S

colors: copper, turquoise, earth tones overall

smells: cooked meats, fresh grass, wood burning, ocean air

textures: rough, dry, bumpy, coarse

drinks: lemonade and fruit juices!

-- O T H E R D E T A I L S

smokes: no

drinks: not anymore, used to heavily at one point

drugs: no

been arrested: yes

taggin but no pressure!!! @baronvonscrufflebutt @manasurge @mystery-salad @brightwingedbat @wilsons-journey @ratasum @pyppyn @twilightdomain @commanderjuni @ancientkarka @the-desert-beast @sunsrefuge @s0urfangs @dotmander @aetherblooms @the-elven-star

and anyone else who sees this, feel free to hop on! that's right! You there!

[draw-you-coward]

in the middle of the street grove

set late pact days :)

“Remember, your star charts are due in a month,” Malomedies reminds them all as they begin to pack their things. “And do something interesting. Keep in mind that your task is not to track the path of the stars, but rather to read the story they have to tell.”

Roza pauses to jot down, Stars – story not path, in his notebook before he gets up. He thinks he knows which story he would like to tell; the stars over Orr are watching the land without the black haze of an Elder Dragon blocking them for the first time in centuries. And perhaps he can solicit some aid from a certain someone who knows its skies well.

The other students, mostly night blooms, file out of the hut. Some of their persons are waiting for them, despite the hour—less so friends, more so family, partners, beloveds. Trahearne is waiting for Roza.

He extends an arm as the distance between them sews itself closed, gloved fingers wrapping around Roza’s shoulder and pulling him in. He smells of nighttime, of crickets and darkness.

“Good evening,” he greets. “How was your lesson?”

Roza raises his head and inhales deeply, taking in the outside air and letting it percolate through his vines. “Informative,” he replies. “We are learning how the phases of the moon align with the rejuvenative cycles of magic. Did you know we had a full moon for nearly a week after Zhaitan died?”

“I am sure that information is somewhere in my paperwork.” Trahearne half-smiles at him. They begin to walk their usual scenic route home. It is after hours, and they prefer to take their time returning to Fort Trinity. “Here, I brought you some food. Didn’t want you getting hungry on the way back.”

Roza takes the gift—a savoury pastry—and gives it a sniff before nibbling at it. “What would I do without you, my Marshal?”

“Have an intensely boring life, I am sure.” Trahearne leans into his shoulder, and Roza rolls his eyes and pushes back against him. “No one to constantly pester, no one to test the bounds of authority with or socially experiment on… you would be miserable.”

“Alright, smart-arse. You are speaking about me as if I am a pet suited to a particular environment.”

For a moment so brief as to be nearly unnoticeable, Trahearne’s gaze flits downwards. Then he says, “I doubt anyone could tame you.”

“You could,” Roza suggests in a way he does not quite know how to define, in the private tone they use when they are alone.

Trahearne’s mouth curves, and he responds in a similar manner, “I would certainly have fun trying.”

They are walking close together, as they always do, but have to move into single file as they duck underneath a branch at the end of the narrow passage behind the mentor huts. Trahearne lifts it for him, ever the gentleman, and Roza steps into the meadow beyond.

Which is not quite empty yet. A few sprouts are chattering amongst the flowers, youthful and bright in the Dream. Night blooms, most likely, although some dusk blooms distract themselves with their scholastic undertakings well into the evening (current company lovingly included).

“Summer will come soon,” Roza catches as they walk by. “Do you think Secondborn Laranthir will drop by this year?”

“He must,” another says hopefully. “I’m going to see if I can get him to paint my porch. On a hot day, when he doesn’t need all that armour.”

“Perhaps it is you who needs cooling down more than he!” their friend replies, and the rest of the sylvari in the circle begin snickering.

“He’s popular here,” Trahearne says directly into Roza’s ear. “He is judicious enough to gain the respect of the older sylvari, and amiable enough to gain that of the saplings.”

“And exclusive enough to be in high porch-painting demand, apparently,” Roza returns without moving his mouth. They walk by the sprouts without much notice, wading through the knee-high grass.

“We shall get him to paint our porch, one day,” Trahearne says. “That is how we will know we have made it.”

Our porch? Roza peers at him from the corner of his eye, and sees a queer expression, as if he has caught himself in a trap he’d forgotten he had set. Then Trahearne gives him a tight smile, the one that means Drop it, and ushers him onwards with a gentle grip.

Roza swallows down a sudden swell of grief and lets himself be led. He stays quiet, his humour now a shelled husk, and Trahearne shoots him a few guilty glances before putting on a comforting, ungenuine smile.

“Let us take a bit of a detour today, if you don’t mind,” he offers. “I, ah, have something I’ve been wanting to show you.”

He leads them back the way they came, which means it wasn’t a particularly planned detour, but Roza does not protest, gazing at the soft glows of the Grove’s nightlife and letting them soothe him. Trahearne’s hand in his is warm.

They stop in front of a small hut secluded from the rest, overgrown vegetation softening its silhouette and merging it with the surrounding landscape. A brightly coloured sylvari stands at the entrance, raking away dead leaves.

He looks up as they near. “Trahearne,” he greets in surprise.

Trahearne inclines his head. “How grow the grounds, Kahedins?”

Kahedins? That sounds vaguely familiar. Roza smiles at this sylvari blandly. A friend of Trahearne’s, perhaps? A former lover? Is Trahearne taking him here to show him that he—

“Quietly, Eldest Brother. The life here slumbers in your absence, but sustains itself still. It knows you return to it sometimes, though your visits grow increasingly rare.”

Eldest Brother. Firstborn. Oops.

“And you, Commander!” Kahedins raises his head and gives Roza a beaming smile, which he returns at crooked half-mast. “I have heard much of you from our brothers. I suppose this is a long-overdue initiation, hm?”

He winks. Roza, puzzled, looks at Trahearne, who stammers for a moment before saying, “I just—er, I brought him here to see the house.”

“I see. And have you told him whose house it is?”

Trahearne scratches the back of his neck. He mumbles to the ground, “It is, um, ou—Mine.”

“You have a house?!” Roza says perhaps a bit loudly.

Kahedins laughs—a rich, warm sound. “Indeed he does, not that you would have any way of knowing! He more or less abandoned it years ago. But I am its groundskeeper, if Brother dear ever deigns to pay it a visit.”

Trahearne mutters something unintelligible at that, but to Roza gestures stiffly towards the front door. “Would you like to, ah, go in?”

“… Sure,” Roza answers, trying to read his body language. Does he want him to go in?

“Come on in, come in. This was before we had keys.” Kahedins beckons to him and pushes the door open to a dark interior. “You’ll be meeting the family next, I suppose, hm?”

Trahearne makes a muted noise, but only smiles when Roza glances back at him. Roza steps forwards cautiously, looking around the interior of the hut. It is barren, save the vines twisting out through the open windows, and the air is musty and lonely. He sniffs.

“It smells like you,” he notes.

“Do you hear that, Brother?” Kahedins sounds delighted. “It smells like you. Isn’t that a wonderful observation?”

Trahearne pinches the bridge of his nose. “And you wonder why I do not visit often.”

“You certainly never visit with company.” Kahedins smiles at Roza almost suggestively. “What are your favourite kinds of biscuits, Roza? May I call you Roza?”

“Yes. Um… the sugar ones?” Roza looks to Trahearne for aid. “I don’t really know…”

“He hasn’t had much opportunity to eat biscuits, Kahedins, considering what our duties demand of us.” Though Roza does not understand the second conversation the firstborn are having underneath this one, he does recognize Trahearne’s I’ve had enough of your bullshit tone, having been the recipient of it many a time.

Kahedins clasps his hands together. “Then a little family meeting is a perfect opportunity to try all of them and discover which ones are your favourites. You know, Aife has been dying to meet you.”

Roza’s alarm must show on his face, because Kahedins chuckles before remediating, “Perhaps one at a time, then. We may begin with the nicest, which would be me. Have you met Dagonet?”

Roza nods shyly, but Trahearne steps in front of him—literally—before he can process how to respond to the invitation. “I am not parading him around for you lot to gawk at—”

“Clearly.”

“—before he even reaches a decade! Grant him some peace.”

“A decade?” Kahedins whines. “Come on, Trahearne. That is years away.”

Roza’s face is bright lavender. A decade? Trahearne thinks he will—they will—a decade? Will they even remain alive for that long?

Kahedins is bargaining with Trahearne. “Teatime with Malomedies,” he pleads, pressing his hands together. “They have already met. Let him try biscuits, Eldest. Please.”

Trahearne draws in a breath as if he is about to protest, but stills when Roza lays a tentative hand on his arm.

“I… would like that,” he ventures. “I think.”

Trahearne’s hackles visibly come to rest. “Very well, then,” he says softly, to Roza, and then in a firmer tone to Kahedins, “A short visit next week, before your class, when you are not inundated with saplings. He does not like crowds.”

That look of delight has crept back onto Kahedins’s face. “I swear by Mother’s roots it shall be perfectly curated. We will have flowers, even. Afternoon sunlight filtered in through the leaves. Deer. Perhaps a moment alone for the two of you.”

“We already do that,” Roza informs him as Trahearne opens his mouth. “Trahearne takes me somewhere every week.”

“Does he? Thank you for letting me know, my dear. Young sylvari such as yourselves are such refreshing conversationalists.”

“We are leaving,” Trahearne announces. His glow is holding now as well, and Roza touches the tips of his fingers to his dotted cheek to catch it. His marshal glares at Kahedins warningly, for what he does not know, and Roza ends up getting his wave goodbye returned to him with considerable enthusiasm.

“He is nice,” he declares as they walk away, swinging their hands together. “Much nicer than Niamh. I still do not know why she wanted to fight me.”

“Nice is one word for it,” Trahearne mutters. “If they so much as let the tea steep for too long next week, I am whisking you away.”

Roza gasps. “My hero,” he says, pressing his fingertips to his chest. Trahearne looks at him with warm cheeks before muttering something and facing away. His hand is a comforting pressure in Roza’s, making him nearly forget the question that has been nipping at his mind for the past five minutes.

“Um, Trahearne? How does he know my name?”

~*~

“You did not get the sunroom.” Roza blinks at him owlishly.

Laranthir pauses, his paint roller hoisted on his bare shoulder. “The… sunroom?” he repeats.

“It is Trahearne’s favourite room.” Roza tucks a delicate bit of hair behind his ear. “It is warm in there, of course. Perhaps you can paint all the coats today. Or you will have to come back tomorrow.”

Whatever game he is playing, Laranthir is too weary to dissect it. “Point me to it,” he sighs, and Roza smiles, sweet as poisoned wine.

Trahearne is in the sunroom on a lounger, next to a small table holding a book and a tray of drinks that he notably cannot consume.

“Lemonade?” he offers, holding one up now. “For your services.”

Laranthir feels as if he is Tyria’s first exotic painter. “Thank you,” he accepts, gulping the beverage down.

Trahearne is eyeing the discarded shirt draped over his arm. “You know, it is quite warm in here. You don’t need that.”

Laranthir throws it at him. “Make me dinner,” he demands.

 “We need to supervise your work first,” Roza says from the doorway, and Laranthir certainly does not jump.

“When did y—you know what, I will take it. Help speed this along and move the furniture, at least. Show me that your martial lessons have been paying off.”

Roza preens and flexes his non-existent muscles, and Trahearne presses a hand to his cheek as if it is the most charming thing he has ever seen. Laranthir gets started on the wall.

~*~

[dualumina]

"You've become familiar with the Domain of the Lost, haven't you, Commander?"

"...Some days I'm not sure I ever came back from there."

Our twice dead boy, Lio!

Either The Judge has a lot of pity for the littlest guy - dying in a wurm attack before the personal story even begins and then a certain god of war later down the line - or Judge knew there'd be a lot more dead showing up if Lio was sent to his final destination.

Maybe it's a mix of both.

Some people might mistake Lio for a necromancer simply due to how much death magic radiates off of him. Doesn't exactly help any self esteem issues, not to mention the underlying guilt of others having died due to his actions as commander... which he isn't even the original for that matter. The OG commander quit after Trahearne's death, and well the Pact needed someone to take over.

Granted the Pact didn't blindly pick anyone; Lio was the one who teamed up with the eventual Dragon's Watch squad to stop Scarlet. Lio definitely grew very fond of the folks in Dragon's Watch since - including Aurene.

(Let's just say that Late Marshal Stance was veeery focused on finding Trahearne in HoT and was completely uninvolved with Aurene's care).

Aurene's even joked a couple of times that she needs to die one more time to catch up with the Commander. Lio nervously laughs each time and urges her to absolutely do not.

Despite Gorrik being Gorrik, Lio has a special fondness for both him and his brother, partly due to being an asura engineer himself, but notably in Blish's case being able to bond over having mechanical limb - or body - replacements.

(Lio did not take Blish's death any better than Gorrik to say the least... but he's a bit better at hiding the fact.)

Despite being kind of... shoved into the role of Wayfinder, Lio is freakin' THRIVING among the Astral Ward. Without Aurene around, it's nice to have the chance to occupy himself with research and going back to discovering new things in a- well slightly less urgent pace, which the Ward and Isgarren provide.

Commander may have been the role that Lio took over, but Wayfinder was the role that was truly Lio's from the get go.

[troonwolf]

the Braham - Commander conflict is esp weird for me because my main Commander and Braham actually have a lot in common and it fucks me up

- Guardians

- Mained a mace and shield when they first met

- Complicated relationships with caregivers

- Big expectations dumped on them when they’re young

- Lose someone important to them that causes a grieving process which involves new angsty outfits

- Specialise in Dragonhunter to go with the new outfit

- Don’t Wanna Talk About It

- Don’t Wanna Talk About Anything