#Efram Greetsglory

[telltalecoyote]

Efram, Rytlock, Gaius, Oberon, and Corvus!

Big kisses for the big cats, they've got plenty of love to share.

Gaius >> @commanderhorncleaver, Corvus >> @nullvoidface

[commanderhorncleaver]

Papaoutai--unfinished fic

A gentle breeze swept through the valley, bringing with it a swath of ashamed-looking soldiers that all seemed to be making their own ways back from the Ash encampment. It was a grim sort of march–in spite of the scents wafting from each and every one who passed, no charr looked particularly pleased about the activities of their night. Gaius supposed he could understand–Carvecia had gotten him in much the same way, years ago.

“You’re a hard one to read, Commander,” Imperator Smodur said beside him as the pair marched on, soldiers dispersing like ants as they passed. “Can’t tell if you’re disappointed in the chumps or if you’re sad you missed out on the inaugural songbird competition.”

Gaius chewed on that before shaking his head, as if to relinquish himself of the memory’s cloying webs. “I think it’s in my best interest not to answer that, sir.”

“Ha! And Kindleshot says you’ve no sense of humor; I can’t help but notice that Ash Legion cub of yours isn’t at the rally.”

Gaius felt his eyes narrow, and remained quiet. The paths diverged; the pair kept to the right, away from where the road led deeper into the valley, and towards the smoking quarry of the Flame encampment. He felt his blood sing in a way that was oddly familiar, though he couldn’t quite pin the cause. 

“Anyway, Horncleaver, I do thank you for coming with me to speak with the New Flame Imperator.”

“And I appreciate the invitation,” Gaius responded dutifully, despite having received no such invitation and instead being intercepted moments after taking his morning piss. He had been handed a uniform in the colors of Iron, and without question buckled it on.

The dusty brown charr barked another laugh as he led them along their way. “It’s important we make a show of Iron’s finest.”

Gaius watched the ground beneath their footpaws shift from pleasant, springy grass to harsh dirt and stone. There was a time when hearing those words from his imperator would have been a highlight. “And I’m Iron’s finest, sir?” 

“Humor and skepticism.” Smodur gestured to a lone charr heading the same direction they were, decked in the colors of Flame. “You’re better than most chumps.”

The rest of their trek was made in silence, naught but the crunch of packed dirt beneath their paws and the clinking of armor punctuated their march. As they grew closer and the ground turned to stone, Gaius recognized that the singing in his blood was becoming electric as they closed their distance with the Flame camp. It was an uncomfortable feeling, particularly because he was so sure he’d felt it before, but he couldn’t focus on it; he had to make nice, show not only that Aurene wasn’t a threat to anybody, but also that he was a loyal soldier.

Charr milled about in an unremarkably normal fashion. The primary camp of New Flame was built into the wall of the quarry, various overhangs and outcroppings creating tiered space for the charr to make shelter, as well as a large jutting throng of stone connecting to three strips of ground that seemed to hang over an open pit. As they approached, Gaius peeked over and saw, perhaps unsurprisingly, that the bottom of the quarry was filled with lava. 

He frowned. “Did they renovate the place themselves?” 

They were noticed before Smodur could respond; Gaius looked up from the pit as a voice hailed them. 

A pale ginger charr in shaman garb waved to them from the uppermost tier of the quarry wall–Gaius shielded his eyes, following the charr’s approach, noting that he was shadowed, slowly, by several other shamans. His fur began to prickle, and the blood roared in his ears and as they drew nearer, it became harder for Gaius to focus on the individuals in front of him.

“Welcome,” the golden-brown charr greeted them with a dip of his head. “Imperator Smodur the Unflinching of Iron Legion, to what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?”

“The pleasure is mine, Imperator Greetsglory.” Smodur purred smoothly. “I’ve merely been parading around the Commander–it’s his first time in the Valley, and I thought it’d be a good opportunity to introduce him. He does have a habit of keeping himself under the radar,” the imperator added with a glance at Gaius, who shrugged indifferently. “You caught a glimpse of his elusive dragon, and so here is the even more elusive Gaius Horncleaver.”

The shaman stepped forward, and Gaius clasped his offered paw, finding his grip to be comfortably warm. “On the contrary, I’m not the Imperator of Flame, I’ve merely organized this faction, and done my best to broker this opportunity for us.”

“Then I’d say ‘acting-Imperator’ is fitting,” Gaius grunted through narrowed eyes at the discomfort swathing him. “I’m sure we all know how difficult it is to organize charr for much of anything.”

“You do me an honor, Commander.” Greetsglory chuckled. He had a humble, if tired, air to him that Gaius could empathize with. Though he didn’t expect to engage with him much–if things went to plan–it was somewhat a comfort to meet a charr who’d put in the work but was leery of the credit and power that came with it. He was, briefly, made curious as to how Greetsglory came to such a position, but before he could ask, another charr spoke up.

“You certainly deserve the honor, given what you’ve given to get us here,” a voice said, deep and sonorous, not unlike Gaius’ own. The humming beneath his skin crescendoed into an awful chorus of tingling across his skin–he felt, as he turned, the disgusting urge to yank out his fur in an attempt to quell it. As he faced his sire, the pain and irritation came to a sudden end–he stifled as a growl as he finally recognized it as the pull of Oryen’s blood magic.

Greetsglory frowned, but Gaius’ attention was no longer on him as his vision tunneled on the black-masked eyes of his sire. “It was a sacrifice…” Curiosity prickled at Gaius’ mind for the barest moment before Oryen takes the group's attention with a clap of his paws.

“The prodigal son does return!” Oryen Crimsondew wore shaman’s garb that matched the acting Imperator’s, his deep russet fur, just shades lighter than Gaius’ pelt, glossy in the sun. “I did promise you we’d meet again.”

[brightwingedbat]

Given my last post with Pyraxus, I have a short story thing in relation to that

Icebrood Saga spoilers

---

The assault on the Frost Citadel, within is a centurion of Flame Legion, a New Flame. Pyraxus Wrathscald, joining with Efram Greetsglory as the legions push on as the Commander leads a small team in a hidden entrance.

But amidst a battle to the corruption chamber, Pyraxus finds himself surrounded. Though his guardian flames are intense, they start to dim after each fallen foe.

Until one breaks through, an arrow to his abdomen interrupts his poise, a Frost Legion crusher knocks him flat to the floor. Looming over now, mace raised for the final strike.

The Flame centurion glances up, a fanged grimace, and an odd acceptance in his eyes. Words rush in his thoughts. 'Guess this is it... Wanted to see how Efram's Flame would turn out, but in the end... Too damned bad.'

"Pyraxus, no!" A voice yells out, familiar. A flash of vivid orange as a conflagration bursts against the frozen foe, and the archer ally of theirs.

"What...?" Wrathscald mutters painfully, and then he sees the sight of Greetsglory himself kneeled down beside him. A quick snarl as the arrow is pulled from him, but the pain is soon soothed by healing magic. "...Efram?"

The New Flame 'Imperator' himself, he still knows water attunement for emergencies after all. "I won't give up on my soldiers, we're making it out of here with as many as we can."

Seconds pass before the wound on Pyraxus' stomach is healed, his expression awash with disbelief. For all he's seen of Imperators... Gaheron was utter evil, Bangar just as bad. Smodur overly cruel and even Malice wouldn't give him the satisfaction of rejoining Flame without reducing himself to Gladium first... "You saved me... I'm just a soldier, why?"

"I'm not Gaheron, Bangar or Smodur. All of my soldiers are important, no matter who they are. Now, we aren't done here yet. There's more to do." Greetsglory responds confidently, such confidence befitting the leader of Flame.

Pyraxus is still for a moment, before standing full and strong along with Efram. A respect in his eyes and voice never shown for many, many years. "My flames are ever yours to command." He quickly salutes. "Imperator."

[ratasum]

Pride Month Showcase - Silas Dreadpyre

A former member of the Flame Legion, Silas defected to spy on the world at large on behalf of Efram Greetsglory, posing as a general member of the disgraced Legion in order to gauge how the High Legions might respond to those not on board with Baelfire's ideals. Along the way, he joined the Order of Whispers and became partnered with Ahlma, a fiery asura necromancer from a large, eccentric family. Though the pair have had their lumps, they've managed to fairly successfully navigate the uneasy path and come into a brighter future. Silas is bisexual!

[hookhound]

i need people to understand how much i love efram greetsglory (and that orelius does too)

[kerra-and-company]

I'm curious what Casca's thoughts are on the New Flame Imperator, Efram Greetsglory.

Absolutely, sure sure!! :D

If Efram were in almost any other position, Casca would like the guy and respect him. He reminds her of Ari a bit. As it is, she's almost more wary of him because she'd otherwise be inclined to trust him.

Casca got herself out of imprisonment/captivity with Flame after three years. Didn't have any help from anyone, just made plans and had a decent dose of luck. She knows others suffered like she did (Brook, for one, though it was in a different manner), but she has no reason to have any faith that there's been meaningful change made. Sure, maybe Efram's better than Gaheron on a first glance, but that's about all she's confident of, and that's a low-ass bar to clear.

I guess the gist of Casca's thoughts on Efram Greetsglory are "I sure hope you're doing good things, even though I don't and can't fully believe that's true, but regardless of whether you are or not, I'm staying the fuck away from you and your legion."

[mollish-art]

My main Commander, Cypra Oakheart (the very first gw2 character I ever made 10 years ago), is ~38 in the present story (at the time of posting this, 1336AE), so that would make her around 27 at the start of the personal story. She spent her early life growing up with the Flame Legion, but due to their misogynistic practices she became a deserter (inspired by Kalla Scorchrazor), and joined the Ash Legion as a spy. From there the events of the personal story and expansions play out as usual, but when Cypra meets the Olmakhan tribe, she bonds with them over their shared past with the Flame Legion. She stays with them for a while and incorporates some sandshifting techniques into her soulbeast fighting style, which she's been using ever since (hence the Olmakhan horns). During the events of the Icebrood Saga she began to bond with Efram Greetsglory over their shared goal of reforming the Flame Legion towards a better future. As a result, she began to re-integrate some Flame-Legion inspired armor pieces and weaponry back into her wardrobe, although her fighting style remains mostly inspired by the Olmakhan techniques.

My oldest alt is definitely Akhthis Raysight - an Iron Legion gladium who became a revenant. I'm not sure how old charr can become, but if they have the same lifespan as a human, I'd say he's about the same age Almorra Soulkeeper was when she died at the end of the Icebrood Saga (my estimate is ~60 years old).

Despite his status as a gladium, he's incredibly well-respected and was a highly sought-out mentor by soldiers in the Black Citadel (regardless of their Legion affiliation). He is usually quite quiet and reserved, but cares deeply about honor and trust. In my mind, he actually acted as Cypra's mentor when she first came to seek refuge at the Black Citadel, and he recommended her to Tribune Torga Desertgrave.

My youngest alt is definitely Arakari Goldrender - a gargantuan beast of a Blood Legion spellbreaker. She's only about 25 in the present day - still just a cub at the start of Cypra's personal story. She is incredibly sweet to those who know her, but to strangers can come across as being one of the the most intimidating soldiers this side of the Brand. Despite her youth, she is a skilled weapons master who never shies away from the front lines. Arakari is incredibly loyal to her Legion, but looks up most of all to the Commander, and is eager to prove herself.

Long story short, after musing about some things, I'm curious about the age of people's Commanders, so poll time it is!

Sorry for excluding sylvari, but they're by default in the younger range (the oldest at that point would barely reach their 20s) and they'd skew the results ;; Feel free to add an (non-sylvari!) OC that is the closest thing to a Pact Commander you have (co-commanders, successors, mentees, that weird dude following them around everywhere, etc), as long as they're active in the Pact during the personal story!

Aurelia is only 36 years old by the start of the game (48yo in current story), but I feel like she's still one of the oldest Commanders I've seen around. And by all means, lemme see your not-young Commanders! Let's have them get together and complain about their backs hurting or something! 👀

[ferret-confirmed]

[red-catmander]

loving how in the festival of the four winds you can go to the crown pavilion to talk to efram and he's very solemn and serious about building bridges and making amends and then you go talk to his adorable little cub prisca and she's like 'i am about to destroy this buffet table. they're going to call what i'll do here The Searing 2.'

[ceresoktavia]

Before anyone was able to answer, they realized how the world around them started to slow down until eventually everything was frozen in place. From the chattering soldiers to birds flying around between the trees.

“Okay?”

“Overkill much …”

“Brimmstone!”

“Let him, he’s right. But we can’t risk anyone eavesdropping.” Once again smirking, Pyre wiped his claws on his shirt and dragged a chair over to sit down himself. “After all, you’ll be let in into Ashes most sacred secret.”

The flicker and telltale magical shatter of Mesmer illusions took the view over the ash tribune. Once they were able to see him again, eyebrows were raised.

And Efram screeched and fell over backwards with his chair, his fur puffed out.

From one second to the other, Pyre’s fur had turned from ginger to snow white, his fur marks now being gray. So was his hair. Purple eyes with a strange glow had replaced the ember ones they had come to know.

Somehow Efram seemed completely spooked.

“H … how are you … you’re …”

“Supposed to be dead? Well, apparently death doesn’t want me. So here I am.”

“Efram? You okay?” Crecia stood, trying to help the rather massive charr back to his feet.

“Okay? OKAY? DON’T YOU RECOGNIZE WHO HE REALLY IS? THAT’S THE TITAN SLAYER!!!”

“Nonsense! The titan slayer is but a myth.” Waving off, Smodur shook his head. “Tribune Dustclaw merely was covering his old age.”

“What Efram says is true.” Wide eyes were directed at Malice, who looked around with a dead serious expression. “He is Bengar Dustclaw, the titan slayer.”

Chuckling, Rytlock leaned to the side in his chair. “Yeah, okay … good one Malice. If the titan slayer had really lived he would be about 500 years old by now.”

“689.”

“What?”

“It’s 689, my age I mean.”

“Bullshit!”

“Alright smartass.” Again smirking Bengar held his arm in Rytlocks direction. “You’ve studied the Foefire like no one has. Tell me, what does this look like to you?” Flames with a ghostly blue-ish sheen started to lick around the white charr’s arm, slowly roaring to life to cover his entire body.

“What the fuck?” Rytlock instantly jumped to his feet. “That is the Foefire!”

“Exactly.” Pulling his hand back to rest it on the chair’s armrest, Bengar extinguished the flames. “I was there when Adelbern released his curse. It branded me, but did not consume me.”

“But the Foefire happened 200 years ago.” Smodur’s claws trembled, while he clutched to his chair.

“I know it’s a shock, that’s why Ash keeps it, him, hidden.” Malice looked over to Bengar, who just nodded, then back at the table and sighed. “He had been serving the Legion even before the times of the shaman reign.”

A still puffy furred Efram reached for a drink on the table with trembling hands. “Oh I know. Everyone in Flame knows. The titan slayer is our personal boogie man.” He took a shaky sip, almost dropping the mug. “They teach it at the Fahrar. The story of the brother of the last ash imperator before our shamans took over, who singlehandedly massacred an entire army and the titans accompanying them.”

“Don’t know how your primus blew the story up, but I assure you, it was not like I breezed through. And they took some pieces of me with them.” Purely for emphasis, the white charr tapped against his broken horn with a crippled claw.

“Maybe.” Efram took another shaky sip, this time dropping the mug into Crecia’s already waiting hands. “But you were alone. The few who got away told the story of monster in charr’s fur.”

“Now that is true.” Bengar sighed. “I am a monster in charr’s fur.”

After sitting the completely scarred Efram back down on his rearranged chair, Crecia directly went over to eye to living myth over. “Something about you is off. I can sense the magic in you, but it’s too wild to be what we know.”

“Times were different back then, and as I said, I am a monster.”

“No wonder you always gave me the creeps.” Rytlocks hands and eyes were twitching.

“Sorry Brimmstone. Your instincts are very good though.”

Smodur cleared his throat, trying to steady his voice to mask his shock and fear. “You call yourself a monster. Why?”

Bengar looked over to Malice, who just sighed. “No use in holding any intel back now.”

The white charr took his imperators words as an order. “Because I’m not entirely charr. My mother, imperator Aurelia Ashseeker, once tried to find means to protect her legion during the wars for the Khan-Ur throne. In her desperation she sought out a demon.” He ran a claw through his hair. “The demon promised her bloodline would get all the power needed to keep the legion safe forever if she killed a particular being framed as some kind of god. So she did go out of her way and actually managed to pull it off.” A sigh escaped his lips. “Though the promised power didn’t fall into her hands, but to her unborn cub. Which, you can guess, is me.”

“According to all the research Bengar and my predecessors conducted he is mostly a charr in the physical sense. But his magical abilities and some perks of his physiology are demonic.” Malice tapped a claw on the table.  “He’s been watching over the legion ever since his brother died, serving every imperator since as advisor.”

“Advisor? Hah! Knew you had some ambitions!”

Bengar pinched the bridge of his nose. “Brimmstone, please … I’ve been there to help if asked, but otherwise I took a backseat and followed orders.”

“Curios to hear a charr referring to his dam as mother.” Scratching his nose, Smodur stood to stretch.

“Ah yes … the nonsense about charr not having family in the same sense as other species.” Bengar just shook his head. “You know that this is just a remaining relic of shaman reign, right?”

“Pardon?”

“When I was a cub we too were trained and educated at the Fahrar, but our parents didn’t drop us off there and vanished from our lives. That only took root with the shamans taking over. No better way to indoctrinate the youth than to drill loyalty to the legion alone into their brains from a very young age.”

“That … well …” Smodur dragged a hand over his face. “Shit.”

Crecia circled around Bengar, still eyeing him over. “What did you mean by times being different?”

He just laughed. “You know how it goes at the Fahrar? They determine what you’re good at, what you align with and train you in those arts. When I was a cub it was mostly the same, but we also learned the basics of other magics, other techniques. See it as basic education in your specialty and overarching training with the rest.” Stretching his arms over his head, Bengar rolled his head around. “They determined me to be a Mesmer, but since my basic training I’ve also learned about and the use of necromancy, pyromancy, cryomancy, aeromancy, geomancy, ranger techniques, warrior techniques as well as magic and techniques of foreign lands.”

Everyone stared at Bengar with wide eyes.

He just had to be joking.

“To calm your nerves some, my long lifespan definitely helped in learning this much.”

“I bet it did.” Rytlock slumped back into his seat and dragged a hand over his face. “So what now?”

“Now we’ll take pressure off of the commander’s back.”

“And scare the ever living shit out of our own troops. Just like with Efram.” Bengar shook his head. “Not to mention other consequences I’d rather not think of.”

“That wasn’t a suggestion, Tribune.” Malice growled.

Bengar sighed and bowed his head. “As my imperator wishes.” He stood and put the chair back to where he had gotten it from before he restored the illusion concealing his true looks. Once he was back in his previous place time started to slowly run again until finally catching up.

Nobody seemed to notice in the position switches and just went on with their business.

“Alright.” Dragging her claws over the table, Malice stood. “I guess we’re done for now. Tribune Dustclaw will be at your strategic disposal now.” She nodded and vanished into nothingness.

The remaining two Imperators, as well as the two Bloodlegion Tribunes, more or less showed their disbelief.

“Dustclaw?”

“Yes?”

Smodur grimaced, tapping his claws on his chairs armrest. “What were you and Malice signing there. You were the one starting it if I saw right.”

“Ah … yes …” Bengar sighed, running his claws through his hair. “I asked her not to even think about revealing who I was.”

“Bet you like the anonymity.” Rytlock snorted. “Not that it does you any good since everybody still knows you.”

“The dumb jokes about me and my posture … yes, I know them.” Shaking his head, Bengar slowly walked around in small circles. “But it’s easier to be just the charr having swallowed a broomstick than being the charr who’s been slaying an entire army.”

Slowly managing to calm down, Efram looked over to Bengar. “So what are your orders exactly? Malice didn’t specify anything in a way we could understand.”

Stopping in his tracks, Bengar growled, his back still turned to everyone else. “My order is to show Dominion why Flame still fears the titan slayer.”

[guildwuff2]

last two charrtobers! 30, legion, and 31, eternal

[commanderhorncleaver]

What initially drew Gaius to Efram?

Ask My OCs About Their Love Interests

"Necessity," Gaius says easily, "Though interest came later on."

The older charr shifts in his seat, and a thoughtful expression crosses his muzzle as he leans back, crossing his paws across his stomach. "At first it was at Smodur's behest. He asked that I interact with Flame, and it wasn't the most bothersome thing to be up to, at the time."

"And then, of course, my sire got involved." His voice deepens to a growl, before lightening again. "But overall, Efram's intent for good, and his willingness to sacrifice in order to do so."

"He introduced me to Prisca. I was... intrigued that he was willing to go to such lengths to ensure a better life for her."

He looks around and finds Gloryana gnawing on the leg of August's desk some way across the room.

"We talked a bit, privately, about that. It was nice to find someone who had similar thoughts about things that needed to change."

[brightwingedbat]

AAAAA

I was doing the Drizzlewood Meta and I just found out that the escort NPCs can in fact run over to you to revive you.

And of all the ones, it is Efram who charges over to save my Flame Legion charr oc Pyraxus. Oooogh this sets ideas in my mind for story, this will be a key moment that Pyraxus truly sets in that this is a new Flame, and Gaheron is a thing long of the past.

[i-mybrunettelady]

So I finally got Liv set up as mech and decided to test it out on Icebrood Saga. Naturally, thoughts ensued (Nyra thoughts as well but that's more for a fic than a post like this)

Liv's half Flame right? Growing up, he could never forget that fact, wasn't allowed to by his peers, especially as his dam is still in the Legions herself. "Oh you're Flamekiller's cub? Glad she had cubs over on the correct side of the fence. You never know with former Flame." Augusta was never there to hear it, and they'd never say it to her face, but to Dana and Liv, absolutely. Dana had it worse as her sire is a Flame shaman, whereas Liv's sire is from Iron.

During his brief stint in Drizzlewood before Smodur started firing squads at deserters & he felt unsafe as gladium and left, he got to meet with Flame. With Efram, in particular. Efram, being his regular old self, actually was polite and nice to Liv. Liv had always thought Flame was crude and cruel and barbarous even, which made him ashamed of his Flame heritage, but Efram was none of those things so his brain went ??

But his archeologist brain got curious and he got to ask questions. What is their culture like, what weapons do they use, what magic, any cultural landmarks and customs, any objects of daily use, what's their art like. Efram answered to the best of his ability and it made Liv reevaluate what he knew and what he believed about Flame.

He still doesn't have complete answers but it's a start at least. He also got El a chance to study Flame magic with Efram (which is something that's greatly interested him, but never had the chance to do) and I feel like if he had any more questions, Efram would be more than willing to answer, especially after learning that Liv's dam was Flame

[commanderyes]

The Commander And The Boiling Point

[born-in-ascalon]

Well, I did say I wasn’t done with charr comics. (Or... you know, comics in general).

Grothmar Valley was an awesome episode. The map metas were fun (including the concert, which I openly dreaded before launch) and I really loved the ambient storytelling the map managed to put across. It also came with not just one, but two absolutely lovable charr - Flame “imperator” Efram Greetsglory & Shaman Brightblaze.

This is a little something I wrote way back, when the episode first came out, and wanted to eventually turn into a comic. I can't say I'm exactly 100% happy with the result, but... eh, it's done. And if it makes at least a few people happy, that’s what matters to me.

... although the background always makes me feel like Nero should just burst into singing The Sound of Music. I guess overly-idyllic rolling lush hills just have that effect on people.

And as before, this comic was sponsored by ArenaNet, but its contents are not sanctioned by GW2 staff or official in any way, so don’t count them as canon.

If you’d like to see a better resolution, follow the link: https://www.patreon.com/posts/comic-reason-to-37715463