#Steel Warband

[skaald-of-the-hearth-fires]

Y'all I've always thought it was hilarious what Anet did to warbands.

So. you have Rytlock, who in Edge of Destiny said he had "about a dozen" brothers and sisters each. so including himself, that's 25 in a warband. The wiki says a warband is 6-25 members, so Rytlock was on the high end, and average would probably be 12-18 members.

and then every warband in the game proceeds to have BARELY 6.

you have 5 options to choose from for a sparring partner. Rox's old warband had 6 members (or maybe 7). We've still never met more than one of Rytlock's 'bandmates. Almorra gets one 'bandmate mentioned by name.

most charr in the entire game, including top-ranking tribunes and imperators, are not with their warbands, do not talk about their warbands, do not go places with their warbands. Tribune Bhuer Goreblade shows up with a small handful of 'bandmates in the charr level 10 story.

You do not see groups of 12-18 charr warbands roaming around Ascalon with fascinating life stories and 'bandmate dynamics and mourning the latest one(s) who died, with mementos, with stories about how 'my sparring partner saved my life' and 'this member of the warband whom I know least of all my bandmates would die for me and they proved it last week' and 'Im unhappy with bandmate X but I would kill for them' or 'bandmates Y and Z obviously love each other. wanna join the betting pool?' and the legionnaire who confides in you about their tough decisions of who they're picking to be their second/replacement. All within the same warband.

Not even one warband like this. Much less the multiple that charr culture deserves.

Even in IBS, the, at least half-way, charr-centric story, our main focus warband is Ryland's Steel warband. Who has, predictably, 6 members. And like 10 fresh-faced, unnamed recruits who have 0 history or dynamic with the Main Cast. even the 6 named members, who have vibes and character and a bit of a dynamic, are stupid shallow. (and tbf they didn't have time to explore it much, but really?)

We do not see Bangar's 'bandmates. We do not see Rytlock's 'bandmates. We do not hear anything about Almorra's old 'bandmates. We do not see Ember Doomforge's 'bandmates. We do not see Smodur's 'bandmates. We do not see Malice's 'bandmates. We do not see Efram's 'bandmates.

We see a lot of 'cubs this' (with Rytlock and with Efram), I heard a lot of speculation about 'cubs that' in fandom spaces, we see a lot of 'ohoho relationship/mating drama' (from Rytlock/Crecia and also Almorra/Bangar). We do NOT see ANYTHING about warbands, supposedly the building-blocks of charr society.

Even the charr player's old warband is mostly disbanded/defected to Dominion.

I have yet to see any real warband dynamics in canon.

Even in the books! Rytlock's 24 'bandmates are fair game because they're offscreen. And Anet has consistently refused to show any of them. Even Rytlock's dynamic with Crecia is pretty much just "we're old exes" and never "we grew up together. we fought together. our bonds are deeper than those of biology, than the fact we have a cub. I stabbed you once and you knew I didn't mean it because we are 'bandmates." Sure, Crecia mentions once "ohoho we used to see the ice elementals here as cubs."

But in the books! Sea of Sorrows for instance! iirc the majority of Sykax's warband is unnamed! Ember Doomforge, again, no mentions of warband! Rytlock nor Malice nor Almorra talk about inter-warband relations!

we never see any warbands larger than 6 members.

And this is all because, OBVIOUSLY, who wants to come up with 12-18 whole characters when it's just the one who's relevant to the story? Coming up with 6 is hard enough it only happens in special occasions. which doesn't include the legit actual player character.

(the player character, whose warband is decimated to TWO flaming members (including yourself!!) in the tutorial, and! yay! fun lorebuilding! you get to rebuild the warband. this adds a flaming total of TWO members. now you're at flaming four. FLAMING FANTASTIC. the player-flaming-character gets FOUR 'bandmates. this is atrocious!! and tbf if you compile all the options across all the branches you might end up in the (low end, probably) of 12-18. which is fair!)

but like. I do sympathize. I really do. characters are hard. names especially! which would be the bare minimum yknow. have an 18-member warband with zero dialogue but! they do have names! that wander around Ascalon. not even an event chain just average-sized warband representation PLEASE.

like. I did it myself. I invented a warband and I BARELY got them to 6 members. I had name, gender, profession for each of them. they were minor characters so they didn't even get the development that Ryland's Steel got. names, professions and the vibes from that. I felt so bad for only giving them 6 bc I was reinforcing the stereotype!!

but, so, uhhhh

I have been handed an OC. from a friend. who has given me full creative license to write abt them in my story.

I gave him 23 'bandmates. They all have names and genders. They're split up into who is whose sparring partner and who bunks with whom. That is all.

I also get VibesTM from each member's name. I'm slowly building relationship maps. (mostly just. from character A's PoV, ranking who they are closest with. Then doing it from Character B's PoV. it's WILDLY fascinating.) I have three charr 'bandmates who have their own little niche, they three are besties, they're each other's sparring partners and bunkmates and everybody (main relevant characters at least) knows them as 'those three'. and I know their names. none of the characters I'm writing about know them very well (relative to the rest of the warband ofc. ofc each one would DIE for them and probably knows their struggles and combat strengths and weak points and so on. but I haven't invented any of those yet) and that's all. I don't have a single bit of info about them except that and the vibes of each name. but hey!!!! WARBAND DYNAMICS MY BELOVED!?!!

[bluekitsvne]

One of my very best red panda friends printed me a few Vishens and My art of her!!!!

I'm not kidding when I say I'm going to cover this wall in pictures of her and attempt a plushie of her!!! 😩😍✨️

[brightwingedbat]

Hmm, I realised I inadvertently made some references to the Steel Warband on GW2 with my Commander's cubs' future warband. Subconscious inspiration I guess aha. Even though I created these characters before I knew Steel's full stories.

Ryland / Galvar = The confident leader, son of a hero

Cinder / Lorranu = The second in command, a voice of reason (plus has a thing for the leader)

Nicabar / Allius = The warband support, prefers to create and heal than hurt and destroy

Vishen / Vita = The soldier who enjoys the battle, not progressing her position

Ranoah / Patia = The warband's engineer, and close to the battle-thrilled soldier

[icebrooding]

Possible(?) hot take but I actually really liked the Forging Steel instance as a cool and somewhat lengthy RP glimpse into other characters' events and I really wish we could have more stuff like it in the Scrying Pool.

Like we could use it to see the other things that Dragon's Watch got up to since it's implied they had a lot more smaller ventures together and I want to see them!

[commander-soup]

Careful cubs, someone's gonna get an eye put out with those little horns!!

These are Muriel's triplets from this doodle a while ago! Left to right their names are Ripkin, Patronia, and Miran.

[red-catmander]

the charr have some really cool things going on musically. it's sometimes a little hard to discern what goes where on the overworld map because stuff gets assigned to odd places to fulfil the need for battle themes, etc, but there are a few interesting things.

the charr starting instance has this music playing which is a good summation of the kind of things that follow the charr around, that is to say strings, brass and driving percussion. these things aren't unique to them, certainly, but if it sounds particularly warlike it's probably associated with the charr in the ost. if that melody seems very familiar, that's because it is, it shows up again in charr triumphant (you've probably heard it during tequatl). there are a lot of songs associated with the charr and it's worth skipping around the og ost for them. that low, kind of oppressive music you hear in the citadel is actually smodur's theme. again, low horns, sweeping strings, heavy percussion but like way off in the distance. industrial sounding. all this to say that legion charr, specifically, have a really distinct sound to them. but these songs are from when the game initially launched and things change, as everything does, in time

in the beginning of season five, they make a point to reinforce these elements and how they're specific to charr. the grothmar songs are full of these things to really hammer it home. you probably don't notice you're making the association.

when the frost legion arrives, it takes all your associations and breaks them over its knee. it's like charr music times 1000%. to hammer home just how freakish and unnatural they are, electronic synths get introduced, as does the shrill, horror movie strings you hear in bjora marches. as you creep further and further down the soundtrack the charr elements eventually melt into a kind of indistinct mess. this is a charr theme that has completely forgotten how to do its job, it's slurry, slush, core components running and bumping into each other and never getting anywhere because jormag has completely subsumed their legion. about five minutes in horns briefly trill like it might get started and it never does. why would it? they're not charr anymore

[venndaai]

playing through "No Quarter" and oh no I'm starting to love the Charr now

[shady-tavern]

A Deal of Games

Requested by anonymous, I very much hope this story is what you were hoping for! Small warning ahead for brief, implied murder.

*.*.*

The warning came with an exhausted rider on the back of their sweaty, trembling horse. Bandits were coming over the mountains and not just any rogue group, but an entire, well organized and supplied warband. Armed and armored and trained and two villages were already burning.

"They’re going to be here by tomorrow, they want to challenge the king and queen," the rider rasped, lying in the arms of the local blacksmith. "Run, flee and warn everyone along the way. I just barely made it out alive."

The villagers exchanged fearful, panicked glances and you knew immediately fleeing would be the ruin of many, if not most of the people you knew. Many here were old and while they had rich, fertile land, they had very little coin. Most people you knew could not afford to leave their homes behind.

You could see it in your mind’s eye already, as did the people around you, considering their expressions. All those homes burnt to the ground, warm houses nothing but ash and rubble, cinder for some cruel heart to burn brighter.

Everything around you would be nothing but fuel for the flames of the greed that had driven those bandits to come here and attack everyone.

Already you could see some of the elder folks exchanging grim looks, before peering at their grandchildren, at the worried soon-to-be-parents of their families.

You could see the decisions they came to, silent and heavy, as though they had already kneeled and bared their throats for death’s scythe. Going quietly into the night, holding prayers for the survival of their loved ones in their hearts.

You could see the downright desperate determination of the strong and capable, the young and spry, who did not miss the way their old and sick family members looked.

The way fists balled in helpless anger, teeth grit in bitter fury and eyes grew dark with the fist bloom of heart-rotting, soon-to-be-born hatred. They looked as though they wanted to reach out and grip the strands of fate with all they had and force the weave of the world into submission. 

To take those strands and strangle whatever careless, unfeeling god was responsible for the world being just a little cracked. As if someone powerful had shattered a once loving existence and had used cruelty to glue the edges back together.

There were no fighters in the village, only two hunters who were indeed quite skilled, but they would fall swiftly should they even attempt to stop the bandits. 

Running into the woods and hiding until the warband was gone was not an option either, not with the creatures that lived there. Not with how deeply everyone would have to go to hide, to not be found.

They’d run from one death to straight into another. One that might end up being even crueler in the end.

But…you turned to look towards the mountains at the back of the village, that last, sharp jutting of stone and rock before the mountain range cut off entirely. If you turned the other way you could see smoke rising in the distance, homes already burnt to the ground. 

Where death marched towards your home with steel weapons and muddy boots and hearts that beat like war drums, filling veins and bones with the song of delighted blood thirst and greedy violence.

There was one thing you could do. Attempt to do, even if it was reckless and dangerous and might just cost you everything. But…everything was already lost and you had to try.

You had to try for old Miriam and Jamil, who had taught you the fine art of whittling and woodcraft, helping your hands shape beautiful things out of wood until your art was the envy of many a traveler.

For your elderly parents, your father who had complained about his sore back just this morning and your mother who had sprained her foot chasing the goose out of the house and slipping on a rag. For your friends and their families, who had always welcomed you to warm dinners and laughter around the fireplace.

For the home you loved.

"I’ll go speak with the dragon," you said just as the mayor, a rotund, quick-witted woman who had led the village through many troubling times, was about to speak up.

"We have nothing to offer," the miller cut in, bouncing his toddler on his hip, the little boy looking about ready to bawl at how tense and scared and angry everyone was. "And if you anger him, all of us will be dead before the bandits even arrive."

You knew your neighbor wasn’t wrong, that no one had been able to make a deal with the dragon ever since it had settled down on the mountain. People had tried, but had come back terrified and cowed. So far, as long as no one hunted in the dragon’s territory, he hadn’t shown up to eat your neighbor’s livestock either.

But the dragon was the only creature you could think of to ask for aid. The only one who had shown a clear 'do not bother me and I will not bother you' mentality, whereas the other creatures in the forest had been nothing but tricky and nasty and darkly hungry.

The village had no riches to offer the dragon and it hadn’t been interested in being offered any sacrifices in the past either, neither animal nor human. The dragon wanted nothing the village had, but maybe…maybe you could promise to get the dragon something else. 

You’d abandon your life, leave your parents and friends and neighbors and teachers behind to go on long, arduous journeys, if only it meant they all got to live.

So when everyone hurried to pack, calling out to children still playing in the field, whistling for the shepherd who had watched from a distance without leaving her herd, you slipped away.

It was easy enough to grab the plough horse of your parents, a patient mare named Rika who had let you learn riding on her broad, strong back. Nothing had scared her for as long as she had been on the farm and she was always friendly and steadfast, never so much as stumbling over stones or roots. 

She was the keeper of many of your secrets and had allowed you to cry into her mane after you had gotten your heart broken last year. She sensed your urgency now and watched closely as you got the saddle and bridle, feeding her a quick treat before you tacked her up.

"Son." Your father’s voice made you flinch in surprise and turn sharply on your heels. He stood in the entrance of the stable, frowning in grim worry. "Please, tell me you won’t do something foolish."

"Of course not," you answered. You had never lied much to your parents, they were always so loving and supportive of you that it simply wasn’t necessary, but in return, they never expected you to lie the few times you did. "I was just getting her ready so we can leave. Mama can’t walk after all."

Your father’s face eased in relief and now he just looked tired and scared. "Thank you, my boy. Go and put her in front of the cart, this way we can take a few more things with us. Maybe a neighbor or two too."

Though even as he said it, his gaze slid away guiltily. There would be few things your parents would be able to take along if they didn’t want to weight their mare down too much. Slow her down too much.

She’d get tired faster and even if she was strong and enduring, none of you knew how long you’d have to run, how far you had to flee, before you were safe again.

Your grip tightened on her reins and you nodded and your father turned around to hurry into the house. For a moment you considered staying where you were, putting Rika in front of the cart and helping your parents escape. If you did end up angering the dragon there was no hope for anyone, this way at least most people of the village would hopefully get to live.

But it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that just because other people were stronger, had the training and had the willingness to hurt and kill carved into their hearts, that you and your loved ones had to suffer. No, you wanted to help. You wanted everyone to keep the lives they had.

So you got on Rika’s back, took a deep breath and urged her out of the stable into the farm courtyard. She was smart and obedient and your urgency made her move faster than she usually did. You heard your father shout, but by then you were already galloping down the road and towards the forest.

More people shouted behind you, calling you back, asking where you went, if everything was alright. You didn’t stop for any of them and before you knew it, the shadow of the forest fell over you and you urged your horse to go faster. You had to hurry to reach the dragon, the sooner he might be willing to help, the better.

You were covered in sweat, as was Rika, when at last a rocky animal-trail came into view, leading up the mountains towards a cavern high up. The dragon’s home. It was probably terribly rude to just climb up and brazenly enter his den, but you had no idea if the dragon could hear you if you shouted from down here.

So you urged Rika onward and she climbed as swift and steady as she pulled the plough, her strong body hauling you along as though you might be a mere sack of grain and you held on, making sure to do your best to aid her and watch out for any trouble along the way.

She must’ve smelled the dragon as you neared the cave, for she grew restless and hesitant for the first time. You pressed a hand to her neck, steadying and calming her and she snorted before moving on. Trusting you to guide her, trusting your judgement to keep her safe. You hoped that trust wasn’t misplaced.

At long last you reached the entrance and slid out of the saddle, your legs nearly buckling. You hadn’t ridden that long or that hard in months and you were getting tired, but determination and worry and fear ensured you’d keep going for a while longer.

"Wait here," you whispered, throwing her reins over a rock as she caught her breath from the climb. You touched her nose and her ears perked, focusing on you. "Thank you, so much."

With those words you hurried into the cave, the air immediately growing cool as you left the sunlight and you could see marks of the dragon’s presence everywhere. For one, the walls had gotten worn down to look smooth and pretty lines and swirls and strange marks had been carved along the ceiling. The floor was the only rougher part of the cave, shallow claw marks left in the stone.

At the end of the hallway you could see the glow of light, too steady to be fire, but it couldn’t be sunlight either, not with how deep into the rock the dragon’s home was built.

"Who dares," deep, threatening voice rumbled along the hallway, making all your hair stand on end. "Steps too heavy to belong to a thief, too light for a knight and I can hear your breathing as though you were running, little intruder. Leave, this is your last warning."

"Please," your voice came out stronger than you had thought and you drew to your full height, heart pounding in your chest, hard enough to make you feel its beat in your very bones. "All I ask is that you hear me out."

A long beat of heavy silence, then an equally heavy exhale followed, almost a sigh. "Very well. Make it quick, I don’t have all afternoon."

You had no idea what dragons were up to in their free time, but you weren’t going to risk being rude and ask. You hurried forward and before you knew it you entered the dragon’s home properly. It was, in a way, breathtakingly beautiful.

Large, golden stones glowed along the ceiling and walls, looking as though someone had unearthed them with great care and then polished them to shiny perfection. They were set perfectly into place to illuminate everything, the massive, smoothed down cavern walls and domed ceiling decorated with more carvings, these inlaid with gems and shiny gold and silver.

And most of all, they illuminated the dragon himself. Imposing and impressive and frightening as he was, you still couldn’t help but think that he was beautiful. In the same way a silver-steeled dagger with a jeweled hilt was beautiful, the way a storm was mesmerizing in its wild power. 

He was breathtaking in a way you had last felt balancing along the edge of the tallest roof while tipsy, your friends egging you on until you had made a handstand right at the edge, feeling the pull of gravity. That almost-sense of nearly falling but keeping yourself balanced at the last second.

Eyes the color of molten gold were fixed on you and the dragon’s green scales shimmered like layered emerald and jade, veins of gold running through them and reminding you of the way sunlight fell through the canopy and danced along the mossy forest floor.

Gentle heat was emanating from the dragon, turning an otherwise cold cavern into something softly, comfortably warm.

"You are very brave, little one," he rumbled and with a start you remembered why you had come here and what for. The dragon shifted to peer down at you, lips lightly pulled back to reveal sharp teeth, while the tips of his claws lightly scratched across the ground, marking the floor so easily the stone might as well have been made of mud. His tail was lashing behind him in impatience and growing irritation.

"I’m willing to offer anything you want in exchange for your help," you hurried to say, almost stumbling over the words. "Bandits will attack and…and we can’t fight back."

The dragon’s face was unexpectedly expressive, you had to admit, when he exhaled in a near-scoff and leaned back as though the conversation was already over in his mind. "You have nothing of interest you could offer me. Leave."

As he turned, clearly dismissing you, you saw what had been shielded with the bulk of his body. His hoard, but where you had heard stories of massive riches, of enough gold to buy two kingdoms and immortality too if you felt like it, at first all you saw was wood inlaid with polished bits of stone. But, no, that wasn’t just wood, those were board games. Countless ones, ones you were familiar with and many you were not.

They were very carefully placed and clearly not for the dragon to sleep on top of, or everything would have turned to splinters after a single attempt. They weren’t in a pile either, but sorted in a way that actually allowed easy access to each and every one. As though the dragon used them, but as far as you knew, he rarely, if ever, had visitors. To your knowledge, other dragons visited only once every other year and the other monsters in the forest would be more inclined to steal things than sit down a round or two of gameplay. 

"I could be your board game partner." The words slipped out without much mind, a last-ditch effort that you were surprised to find you actually meant. 

You had a couple of board games at home yourself, but people rarely sat down to play with you, if ever. Your friends lacked the patience or the enthusiasm and preferred to visit the tavern and your parents were usually too busy and tired. 

You couldn’t count the amount of times you wished you had had someone to play with, a quiet longing you kept tucked into a lonely corner of your heart. A passion you couldn’t share with anyone but couldn’t give up on either.

The dragon’s head snapped around and his eyes narrowed dangerously and he snarled, "You can take your pity -"

"No one plays with me either," you said, immediately cringing inward when you realized that you had interrupted him. You might not make it down the mountain alive after all. But when the dragon just stared, you found yourself continuing, "My friends don’t have the patience and my parents are too busy most days and, well, playing by myself just…makes me sad."

Your voice had grown soft on the last few words. Sad and lonely. Some days you didn’t even want to look at your games, knowing you’d only get excited about them for no reason. And the following disappointment when everyone told you 'not today, maybe later' when you asked if they wanted to play with you would hit all the harder.

There must’ve been something on your face or in your voice, for the dragon’s tension slowly eased away as he watched you, eyes still narrowed but gaze more contemplative.

"One evening every week," he said and hope crashed into your chest like a thunderstorm, electrifying your veins and stealing your breath away, sweeping you along with a heavy, thrumming relief.

"Make that two," you said, a smile appearing on your face and the dragon threw his head back, laughing in startled surprise. It made the ground rumble and you couldn’t help but feel your smile morph into a grin.

"Deal," he said, easing down a bit to better look at you. He offered a grin of his own, all dagger-sharp teeth and nature-wild danger and the back of his throat faintly glowed with fire. "Where are your bandits?"

You told him and he rumbled, ushering you out of his home and telling you to go back to your village. And if, on the way back, you had to wipe a few tears of relief and gratitude away, there was no one but your patient, steady horse to see it. And she surely wouldn’t tell on you, she’d been keeping all your secrets safe for years after all.

Just as you left the forest to see the entire village in a flurry of panicked packing and tearful arguing, you heard a roar thunder across the sky. Everyone’s heads snapped up, yours included and you saw the dragon rise from his mountain, turning a slow half circle before he seemed to spot something, taking off into the distance.

Your breath shivered out of you in relief and you sagged onto Rika’s neck, briefly pressing your face into her warm mane that smelled like horse and hay.

Your parents were already waiting for you, packed bags and satchels at their feet and they grabbed you as soon as you got out of the saddle, pulling you into tight hugs.

"My brave, impossible boy," your mother whispered, tears in her eyes. "Did the dragon…" At your nod she briefly closed her eyes, relief and worry warring on her face. "What did you offer him?"

"I’ll visit twice a week," you said, gripping their arms reassuringly when worried frowns made their brows furrow. "It’s nothing bad, I promise. It seems I had something to offer after all."

You weren’t going to tell them what, not when it felt like the dragon’s loneliness was a sore spot to him. Not when it touched upon a sore spot of your own, that little corner of lonely sadness when you had no one to truly share your passions with.

Within two hours the dragon returned, roaring once and by evening another rider appeared, sweaty and exhausted but grinning fiercely.

"The bandits are defeated!" they shouted as they rode through the village, only slowing down long enough to deliver the message before moving on to the next place. "The warband is no more!"

The entire village celebrated like never before and you slept like a baby that night.

*.*.*

The first time you showed up at the dragon’s cave, things were a bit stilted and after a game had been chosen, you had almost let the dragon win. Until you remembered how much it sucked to not be taken seriously, to feel like playing games was a chore for the other person. To not be challenged when it was so much fun to not have to hold back.

The dragon was certainly challenge enough for you and with every meeting you noticed him relax more and more. Soon he was talking freely, letting you choose what games you’d like to try and teaching you the ones you had never seen before.

There was no need to bite back your excitement about the games around him, your enthusiasm and your love. If anything, he matched you beat for beat, the two of you getting lost in the shared joy for hours. It grew to the point where Rika had to neighing loudly because she was hungry and wanted to get home to remind you that it was getting late.

"I’ll come by again tomorrow," you said and the dragon blinked in surprise.

"You have already been here twice this week," he reminded you and you couldn’t help but snort.

"As long as I don’t bother you, I’m coming over. I’m having too much fun." Your grin was toothy, your entire being downright lit-up with how much you had enjoyed yourself.

The dragon blinked, head tipping to watch you, then he smiled. "Be welcome, then, whenever you wish."

"You’re going to regret that," you warned him, still grinning and he laughed, a rumbling sound from deep within his chest.

"Oh, I doubt it," he answered and the gold in his eyes seemed to glow brighter. "I highly doubt it."

So you came back the next day and before you knew it, you spent most of your free time with the dragon, your parents sending you off with fond smiles and your friends reminding you to still meet them on the weekend for your usual get-together.

Rika was long since used to the trek up the mountain and she walked swifter and faster with every time, carrying you without complaint.

As summer turned to autumn you realized you had made the most wonderful friend by approaching the dragon. What had started out as a mutually beneficial deal had grown to be so, so much more. You were happy every time you saw him and the dragon understood you on a level that no one else did. 

For as kind as the people in the village were, for as much as your parents loved you and your friends wanted you around, greeting you with grins and waving you over whenever they saw you, the dragon just…got you. 

All the parts of you that had fit kind of awkwardly before, all the little things about you that people had accepted but hadn’t known what to do with, all your secret little hopes and yearnings, everything seemed to have a place here. With him.

You realized you weren’t the only one who felt that way when you arrived at the cavern to see that a makeshift stall for Rika had been built outside, to keep her safe and dry. There was even quite the amount of grass piled up for her to munch on. 

And when you stepped inside you saw piles of pillows and blankets on the ground, decadent enough that they should have belonged to an emperor. There was a keg of water as well, a couple of bottles of wine and mead and a new shelf, holding dried meats and cheese wheels and herbs and bread and beside it stood sacks with vegetables and fruits.

"From my sister," the dragon said, rumbling at you in welcome. "She’s happy I found someone like you and when she visited last night she insisted on making you more comfortable."

If his sister had shown up after sundown it explained why no one in the village had noticed another dragon’s presence. She must have left while it had been dark as well and it made you wonder if the dragon had more visitors than expected if most of them visited at night.

"Thank you, that’s very sweet," you said and the dragon grinned, head perking in a pleased manner. "And thank you for caring for my horse as well."

"Of course," the dragon said like it was common sense. "I care about the things you care about."

He told you stories that day while you played. About growing up among his egg siblings and playful parents who had taught them all to defend what was theirs no matter what. Fierce and unapologetic.

He told you about his travels until he had found the perfect spot to settle down in, how his parents had been the ones to gift him his first game when he had shown little interest in the other riches they presented him with.

"It’s customary to help the hatchlings start their own hoard," he explained when you asked, curious about customs among dragons. "How to collect and care for it and develop a fine eye for what is worth keeping."

The way he looked at you when he said that made a giddy warmth rise within your chest. You smiled back at him and found yourself telling stories of your own. Before you knew it, you told the dragon everything, even the things you had only ever told Rika in the past.

He never judged you for anything and laughed at your jokes and always asked how you were doing, what your day had been like. He was so very genuinely interested in you and your life and the things you loved.

And as autumn became winter and the trek up the mountain took longer, he coiled around you to warm you back up every time. You leaned against his scales, swaddled in thick blankets and sitting atop your soft pillows and as you soaked up his heat, you realized that you had fallen in love.

You played together, forgetting the time and when you heard Rika grow restless, thick snowfall had begun to cover the mountain. It was too dangerous to ride back in that weather and it was getting dark too quickly.

"Stay the night," the dragon offered and showed you a spot where you could put Rika, so she’d be dry and warm and comfortable. You handed her an arm full of apples and some of the oats kept in a sack and she nudged your arm before eating.

The dragon seemed excited to have you over, nudging at the pillows and blankets over and over until he seemed satisfied and curled up around them. You had to laugh and sat down with him after grabbing yourself dinner and something to drink.

You talked for hours, until your eyes started to grow heavy and you couldn’t stop yawning.

"Sleep well," the dragon rumbled quietly, curling more around you until you were surrounded by heat and comfort. "I will guard your rest and your dreams."

He was so very, very sweet.

The next morning, while the dragon left to hunt, you put away the board game from last night and that was when you noticed something that had been carefully put away. A broken game. The top of the wooden casing was splintered and a number of the figurines and pieces used for playing were cracked apart inside.

It was such a beautiful game too, the wood painted carefully and the playing board was even inlaid with shining metals and polished marble and some of the game elements were carved out of horn and bone. You would have paid a fortune had you tried to buy that from a trader.

You heard the dragon return and straightened with the broken game in your hands just as he entered, carrying the satisfied air of a successful hunt.

"What happened to this one?" you asked and for the first time, you saw true sadness on his face.

"It was one of my first gifts," he said quietly. "From my grandparents, shortly before they were slain by knights. I was…rather upset. I accidentally destroyed it and I’ve been unable to let go of it."

"It’s beautiful," you said and he hummed, a low, subdued rumble. 

"Despite being broken it’s one of my most precious pieces," he added, gently nudging your shoulder. "Come on, put it back and get yourself something to eat, the weather has cleared enough for you to head home."

You set the game down with utmost care and the somber mood was soon replaced with chatter as the dragon asked you about your plans for the day. As you got read to leave, he briefly pressed his forehead to yours.

"Safe travels," he said quietly. "I will await your return."

You reached out to hug him and left with Rika soon after, arriving just in time to get ready for work. But even as the days passed you couldn’t bring yourself to forget about the broken game so loved your dragon couldn’t bring himself to throw it away. You ended up spending the night more often, especially when the weather grew bad or it was too late and you didn’t want to ride home in the dark.

Your parents just laughed and told you to introduce the dragon to them one day if he was growing to be so important to you. Considering the knowing looks they sent you, they had absolutely caught on to your feelings. You waved them off, though you couldn’t help but smile a little, feeling quietly happy and pleased.

And then the winter solstice came around and with it a festival to celebrate the end of long, dark nights. The point where winter would turn towards spring and even if it would snow for some time yet, you knew the weather would grow warm again before long.

It was your woodworking teachers who gave you the idea for a gift for the dragon and you hid your sketchbook in your coat when you visited and stayed the night. You waited until the dragon had fallen asleep before very carefully climbing out of the nest of pillows and blankets and over his tail, tiptoeing over to his hoard.

You sketched and measured everything, handling the broken game with utmost care and once you were done, you hid the sketchbook in your coat again and cuddled up to your dragon, who rumbled in satisfaction in his sleep. So very sweet indeed.

It thankfully wasn’t too hard to get all the necessary materials and while old Miriam and Jamil didn’t lend a hand they gave you a few pointers and tips and you spent hours bent over wood and bone, bugging the blacksmith for his help with metalwork. 

And then, on the night of the festival, you celebrated with your friends and family and just after the large fires had been lit, you snuck away, a wrapped parcel in your coat pockets. You had timed things well, arriving just as your dragon had left to hunt.

You pulled out the parcel and the broken game and carefully removed the broken top, replacing it with the one you had made. Afterwards you carefully took out the broken pieces and inserted the new ones you had made. In the end the game looked hale and whole and only if you looked hard enough could you see a difference between old and new parts.

You didn’t throw the old things away, that wasn’t your place. Instead, you left them on a silk cloth and set up the game in your usual playing spot, waiting for the dragon to return.

It didn’t take long and he called out your name in surprised delight before he even entered his cave, his golden eyes bright.

"I did not expect you today," he said with a warm rumble, only to still, those sharp eyes falling to the game set up in front of you. He was so silent you were unsure if he was even breathing at all.

"I, uh, hope I didn’t overstep?" you asked, suddenly feeling a bit unsure. "I just…I can put it back to how it was, don’t worry."

"You did this?" the dragon asked, his voice the quietest you had ever heard it as he slowly stepped forward, green and gold scales shining like a living forest in the glow of his golden stones. "For me?"

You nodded, picking up one of the pieces you had made, holding it out to him. "I know how much this game means to you and I wanted to make you happy."

The dragon eyed the piece in your hand, looking reluctant to reach out and touch it himself. He did at last, carefully turning it over between his claws.

"It looks just like I remember," he said, voice quiet and there was a near purring rumble underlining the words. "It’s beautiful. Who made all this?"

"I did," you answered and his eyes snapped to you, suddenly sharper and brighter and fiercer than ever before. You couldn’t help but smile. "I did tell you I’m a woodworker."

The dragon set the piece down ever so carefully, then leaned close to press his forehead to yours, your arms rising to hug his head as much as possible.

"Please allow me to court you," he said quietly, smelling like the winter winds outside, his heat warming your entire chest as his words made your breath catch. "I’ve been trying hard to hold back how I feel, but after this -"

"Yes," you blurted out, grinning and then laughing, closing your eyes and nuzzling your face against his scales. "Absolutely, yes."

The dragon rumbled, a noise that would have sounded fierce and intimidating hadn’t you known him so well. It was a sound of deep, bottomless joy and he pressed closer, his tail swinging around, the end coiling around your waist.

"Then I will," he said quietly. "I vow to bring you happiness and fulfill as many of your wishes as I possibly can."

You were smiling so much your cheeks hurt and your heart had grown wings of gold and light in your chest, soaring high and strong. "Keep playing games with me," you said quietly. "And hold my heart with care, that’s all I want."

"For all my days," your dragon vowed. "Will you accept mine in return?"

"For all my days," you answered, hugging him fiercer. "For as long as this life lasts."

You had every intention to share as many joys with this dragon, your dragon, as you could. To hold him and be held in return, to love freely and fearlessly and know you and your heart and soul would be held safe and secure. That there was someone who saw you as you were and wanted you exactly like that.

And deep down you knew, this life would be a very long and very happy life indeed.

*.*.*

Yo, want more of my stuff? Want to support my silliness? My nonsense? Please consider checking out my patreon! A new short story gets uploaded every month and every bit helps pay the bills and frees up more time for writing stories for you all =)

[gristlegrinder]

i got too embarrassed to write the tags i actually wanted to write in my tags on that rytlock poll i just reblogged, but. further thoughts on the matter from my first draft of my reblog before i deleted them.

id transcript / more readable version:

okay let me walk you through my math, because i’ve spent the better half of two hours thinking about this.

SO LIKE. ryland is around braham’s age. give or take two years in either direction. making him around 25 in 1334. we don’t have a confirmation on ryland’s age, but i’ve done my homework— and spent a frantic night trying to figure that out ages ago for an unrelated personal question.

(which is ‘how long has nicabar been with steel warband’? this is based on extrapolating that the last all-legion rally in grothmar probably took place in 1324, in the wake of charr-human peace treaty negotiations. i will spare you the details of that. anyways.)

that means rytlock has to be at least 45. i do not think he would have sired ryland younger than that. i think that makes the most sense in relation to ryland’s age, because not only is he rytlock’s oldest, but i also think he did sire him young because— *smacks chalkboard with my retractable pointer stick* rytlock and crecia’s flame legion reconnaissance mission!

i think they had ryland before they went on that mission, because crecia stays in flame for years after rytlock runs away with sohothin. (this is not in the screenshot to transcribe, but also in requiem: rytlock the way he talks about crecia suggests that he has literally not seen her, or at least been intimate with her in the same way, since she shanked him). (both of them) put (ryland) in the fahrar, go away, get the god’s sword. become a legendary (dragon)[sic]-champion killer by the time (ryland)’s ten. you know.

the other half of this is bangar, actually! bangar had to be old enough to have power in the legions, in order to take care of crecia and her dam in the way that he did. which suggests at least a 30-year gap between them, unless we think bangar was calling the shots around the blood citadel at age 20.

and bangar’s getting up there. he’s gotta have his meat cut up because his jaw’s not as good as it used to be. so, i think it’s reasonable to pin him down as like, mid-to-late seventies. (additional comment: you could argue that he’s older, but i’m going to play it fairly conservative— he’s old enough to begin having health concerns, perhaps influencing his sudden grab for additional power before it’s too late).

final answer: rytlock is around 45-50 by the end of icebrood saga! i may lean a little into the 48-50 range, just to give him a little bit of a buffer between like… graduating the fahrar and getting established with stone warband, and the baelfire mission.

sorry for the absolute onslaught of tags, OP.

[deirdreskye]

are those big stainless steel dog baths the thing thats making you say "have x washed and brought to my tent" so much?

No I'm imagining more that I'm some kind of barbarian queen ravaging the lands with my warband of eunuch-poetess-warriors and I'm inspecting the captive girlboy shepherds from the latest raiding party picking the one that I want to warm my featherbed for the night before it is time to reave once more. Welcome to Gally's World.

[spiribia]

icebrood saga still had the potential to be the best arc of guild wars 2 for me. norn cultural surnames and charr cultural surnames. braham eirsson, son of eir, carrying forever with his identity the legacy of his mother, until even the privilege of that connection is stripped from him by other norn's referring to him as 'braham oathbreaker' instead. ryland steelcatcher, a last name forged from his warband (steel) and his own deeds as an individual. raised not by his parents but in a cohort trained since childhood for war, as is custom for charr. braham carries eir's bow (a major inciting incident is that he loses it), while ryland forges his own handmade mimic of his father's legendary sword. you can see that the shadow hangs over. somewhere out there, two elden forces in the form of dragons, siblings that outgrew their mother, turned against each other.

[makapatag]

“Violence for violence’s sake is not the rule of beasts but the nature of divinity.” Gubat Banwa is a game of rapid kinetic martial arts, violent sorcery, heartrending convictions and bouts of will. Warriors that channel gods face sorcerers that master black arts, martial artists who have unlocked a new form of cultivation clash swords with those that perfect the night alchemies. When the crocodile’s teeth are cast, convictions are unsheathed, and steel sparks: the Umalagad must declare that: “The river of life ever flows! Rejoice in the glory of combat!” and they enter violence

SWORD AND ENLIGHTENMENT. LOVE AND GLORY. VIOLENCE AND LIBERATION. 

Gubat Banwa is a  Southeast Asian fantasy martial arts Role-Playing Game, inspired by the refulgent cultures of Southeast Asia. Raise your spears, KADUNGGANAN, you elite warrior-braves and asura-knights who travel The Sword Isles to prove their conviction and dictate the fate of the world. Revel in larger-than-life war drama like in Asian Dramas, ballistic tactical martial arts grid gameplay in the vein of Lancer or Final Fantasy Tactics, and find glory beyond heaven. Wield the Thunderbolt of Liberation! Rejoice! In the Glory of Combat!

Itch.io: https://makapatag.itch.io/gubat-banwa

DrivethruRPG: https://www.drivethrurpg.com/.../Gubat-Banwa-1e-Playtest

Gank: https://ganknow.com/services/18713-makapatag-gubat-banwa-1e

Included are!

A unique Southeast Asian-inspired Fantasy setting, with an emphasis on martial arts as a background for war drama and violence, from a Philippine-centric view. Garudas fight against unglu. Martial artist warriors master the Principle of Cutting by meditating upon the teachings of the Violent Bodhisattva. Rituals and superstitions must be performed or else risk the wrath of the ancestors. Vast kingdoms arise with God-Kings at their helm, claiming to be Shiva-Buddha incarnate. You and your warband stand at the center of this violent mandala!

A corresponding narrative system made to help play out war drama in this setting, along the veins of Final Fantasy Tactics, Hero, House of Flying Daggers, Malazan, Tigana, Game of Thrones, and Tactics Ogre!

Want to try out the Thundering Tactics Battle System that fuses modern narrative sensibilities with D&D4e style tactical combat and wargaming dice pools. The Turn Order is known as the Rhythm, and you don't activate a unit; you fulminate a fighter. The game heavily relies on terrain abilities and emphasizes movement, especially with it's 3-Beat System, which lets you do 3 Actions per turn (some actions might cost more than 1 Beat!)

A Discipline System inspired by Final Fantasy Tactics Jobs, Digital Devil Saga's Mantras, and Shin Megami Tensei Nocturne's Magatama. Mix and match your Techniques! Change Disciplines with a single Downtime Action! Be a Death Dancer that heals with alchemies, or a Tigpana (Spiritual Archer) that rides upon a crocodile! 

A narrative system wherein describing or doing dangerous and cool things is encouraged, as that is how you get Thunderbolt Tokens, which let you dictate your fate. This same narrative system prioritizes 5 Approaches instead of Abilities, in the vein of L5R, with each approach based off of the 5 Elements of Gubat Banwa's natural philosophies and esoteric tradition.

Said narrative system comes with a baked in Honor system that interplays with Debt, which is how you get others to do things for you. And NPCs can accrue this same debt, forcing you to follow them. If your Honor ever falls below 0, you must play a new Kadungganan!

An enemy system that allows for Solo and GM-less play! Roll an Enemy's Gambit Dice to find out what actions they do when they Fulminate. Adapt and act accordingly, make for dynamic fights!

Event tables and generators for every possible thing you might encounter while journeying in the Sword Isles, to fully immerse and play in its cultures! As well as Lore to fulfill any questions you might have.

Finally, baked in is the starter adventure: The Sword Devil. So you can jumpstart your games!

[where-is-caithe]

Does anybody wanna read the 6 pages of Eon's backstory I've written down? No? Yeah you do, here goes.

No one is gonna come after me for inaccurate Fractal lore. You're not gonna say anything about inaccurate Fractal lore.

-

Eon is an Ash Legion charr who never knew their parents and started out as a pretty basic thief. Their specialty was smoke and invisibility, disorienting and blinding enemies and sneaking in for the kill. As they grew up, their magic abilities grew and it became obvious from other charr that they have some relation to a Flame Legion smoke shaman, starting with their talent for smoke and thief magic and showing in the horns growing from their shoulders. It never really bothered them, they always thought the horns on their shoulders were kind of cool, and while knowing that how they looked would probably prevent them from climbing ranks, they were content taking orders. 

In the early years, they were the picture-perfect soldier, not questioning anything and following orders perfectly. Their warband, the Shear warband, consisted of Maverick, Dinky, Clawspur, Euryale, Reeva, and Howl, their Legionnaire. The seven of them were tight-knit like any warband, and each would defend the others with their lives. They were a good warband, and right out of the fahrar they proved their worth in a seek and kill mission in Fireheart Rise, deep in Flame Legion territory. They were a trusted ‘band, often getting orders straight from Malice, instead of a Tribune. Within a few years of being out of the fahrar, they were one of the top warbands of the Ash Legion, and Howl had been promoted to Centurion. Put simply, the Shear warband is to Malice, what Ryland’s Steel warband is to Bangar.

Eon had a good relationship with each member of their warband, they were family after all, but their most trusted friend was Maverick, who they would spend a lot of time sparring and joking around with, they both had terrific egos and always thought the other was the worse fighter/sidekick. Maverick, Eon, Reeva, Dinky and Howl would spend a lot of time sparring together during downtime. Clawspur and Eon were both thieves, and they would both train each other by sneaking up on the other, as well as sitting together in silence. They were the two who would sneak the warband into places, taking turns throwing invisibility spells and smoke. Eon would also use their stealth to sneak up on and bother Euryale, teasing her and getting her temper flaring, it was good practice to dodge an elementalist. Joking and butting heads (literally) with Reeva was another pastime of theirs. 

Sometime between 1320 and 1325, the Shear warband was given new orders to investigate an intriguing new discovery that Ash Legion spies had heard about, the Fractals of the Mists. It was currently an ongoing investigation and the Ash Legion was curious to see how it could benefit the Legions, whether this discovery could be a new training ground or something similar. The operation had been planned months in advance, and the goal was to be the defense team for a group of asura researchers venturing into the Fractals and uncover what their potential is. It was a pretty standard set-up, a protection mission that doubled as espionage, and their cover was a Blood Legion warband. Once they reached the research team in Lion’s Arch, Howl did all of the talking and the operation had a smooth start. It was only once the team had entered through an unstable portal in Fort Mariner that it went to shit.

The group consisted of ten asura, a small golem with equipment, and the warband of seven charr. It was a pretty large group, but the warband was confident and trusted in their Imperator’s intel. The intel turned out to be slightly flawed, as they were under the impression that there had been multiple excursions already into the Fractals and there was a base currently set up. This was not the case, it turned out that there had only been one or two krewes sent in and neither had made it back out. The base as well was still in the early stages of development, meaning they didn’t even have a stable means to get to it and hadn’t begun construction. This was all revealed during the first Fractal they stumbled into.

Howl led the team through the entrance portal and immediately into a firefight. He was killed before anyone knew what was happening. It was a dark cavern swarming with Destroyers, a Fractal of an Asuran underground city being overrun. Ignoring their fallen Legionnaire, the warband fought off the Destroyers and retreated into a tunnel, away from the main cavern and away from the remnants of the lost asura city. Two of the researchers were killed during the fight, and with the warband at six members, their group was down to fourteen and a golem.

Out of the fighting for the moment, the asura revealed a bit more detail on the Fractals. From the data collected from previous krewes (posthumously), it was believed that to leave a Fractal, you had to “stabilize” it, playing out what was happening by continuing a fight, ending it, or resolving whatever the Fractal was doing. The original plan was to go into a Fractal and leave it by this method while taking as many readings as possible using the equipment brought by the researchers stored in the golem. Technically still the plan, but with less people. Had to see the bigger picture.

With no time to mourn, the warband unanimously gave leadership to Maverick, and his first command was to follow the directions of the asura krewe, complete the Fractal, and get the hell out.

The rest of the Fractal went fine, now that they knew what was going on, but the completion of it did not let them out. Transported to another time, another place, the group felt any hope they held of leaving die with the comrades they left in the Asuran city.

The only way was forward. None of them knew how long it had been, no one knew if it was over months, days, or even years that they were trapped there. Sometimes the Fractals would be fought easily, they would finish one and be sent straight into another, and sometimes they wouldn’t be sent to another. Occasionally they would be trapped in one Fractal for days. With every completion, it would restart. There were bad ones. Losses.

Reeva was the next of the warband to die. As they were retreating away from a swarm of Grawl, shielded by Dinky’s guardian magic, Reeva sacrificed herself to distract them. She was never seen again, and Euryale was never the same.

In a particularly bad Fractal, one that pushed the warband to their limits, they lost more than half of the remaining asura, the golem, as well as Clawspur, Euryale, and Dinky. The enemy was a creature from the depths of the Jade Sea, something none of them had ever even heard of before, and its attacks went right through Dinky’s shield as he tried desperately to protect his comrades. Only Maverick and Eon remained after that, and they both did their best to keep each other afloat while mourning their brothers and sisters, and protect their charges.

It was like that for weeks. Maverick and Eon leading the asura team through Fractal after Fractal, hoping they would somehow be sent back home through one of them. Neither of them slept much during this time, and food was scarce, they scavenged whatever they could find in the Fractals and packed bags with any food they could carry. Sometimes they’d be in a Fractal with plenty of resources, and they would make the decision to stay for a while, until they were attacked again and had to fight their way through it.

During this time, Eon’s abilities were evolving. Possibly due to their exposure to the unstable magics around them, but it wasn’t affecting Maverick as much, despite him improving his fighting style as well. Eon began to use mesmer-like magical abilities. Their invisibility was more stable, and as they improved, they began to slightly manipulate time and space. Weaving portals and teleporting, invisibility and summoning weapons, being in this environment was giving them a boost to a magic they’d been born with. It made traversing the Fractals that much easier. Maverick’s new fighting as well, through a bit of training in a Fractal in Elona, he had discovered abilities to counteract magical attacks. They became a good team and they didn’t lose anyone for a long time because of it.

In a Fractal fighting against humans in Ascalon, Eon was splashed across the face with hot oil, Maverick dragged them away screaming while two of the asura watched their backs. One of them didn’t make it, but the other helped wrap the wound and with Eon blindfolded, the four fought through the Fractal to its completion. For days after that, Eon would be virtually blind, using their sense of smell and touch as well as various illusions and tips from Maverick and the asura. As they healed it became clear that the scar was starting to look like a rift of space. Once it was fully healed, it was much clearer. It worried all of them. There was no way of knowing what was happening to them, but it was obvious the constant exposure to the chaos of the Fractals was affecting them. They’d run across beings within the Fractals that were made entirely of space and all of them secretly wondered if that would eventually be them too.

It was maybe another month, no one really knows, time is strange in the Fractals and they have no real frame of reference, before everything went to shit again.

Maverick was killed, and with him, the remaining asura. There was a demon. That was all Eon knew. They killed it. The Fractal stabilized. Eon picked up their brother’s broken sword as the world changed again and continued alone.

It’s unknown how long they were alone. They stopped keeping track. 

Fractal after Fractal they fought, determined to reach the end of it. To reach home eventually.

They were tired. Their family was dead. Everything they’d ever known was gone. They were trapped and they could never go home. They laid down in a dry cave, holding their brother’s sword close, and they went to sleep.

“He-hello? Are you there?”

Eon’s eyes shot open.

“You’re... an anomaly? You’re not supposed to be in this Fractal. I’ve been studying it for weeks.”

They sat up fully, clutching the sword close, “yes.” Their voice was hoarse and scratchy from lack of use.

“I think I can pull you out. Stand by.”

They felt the familiar feeling of going through a portal, and suddenly they were met with a dark sky full of stars, a rock formation floating in the middle of space, asura lab equipment and golems. The voice they heard called out to them and they looked up to see an asura with large eyes and braided hair.

“How long were you in there?”

Eon wasn’t listening. They saw the pink of a portal shimmering behind her at the edge of the rocky cliffside. They stepped over the asura, not even bothering looking in her direction, let alone answering her question, and they sprinted for the portal. They were faster than the golem that began to chase, and they felt vertigo for a moment as they went through.

They knew they were out the moment their feet hit the cobblestone of Fort Mariner, the unfamiliar smell of Lion’s Arch with the salty breeze and the sound of the low waves lapping against stone, they knew they were out. They fell to the ground on their hands and knees, breathing heavily and shaking, choking on a sob as their vision blurred with tears.

 The feeling of the Mists was gone.

They sat on the shore in Lion’s Arch for hours, sifting through their thoughts. Sifting through what happened. Everything was different now. They felt nothing but rage for the Legions. They felt guilty for being the sole survivor, but they ultimately blamed the Legions. They had to go back and tell them what happened. They didn’t even know how long they’d been gone. The team was supposed to be back in a matter of hours, or days at most. Eon doesn’t even know how long they were in there.

The journey to the Black Citadel was uneventful, but when they reached the Ash Tribune’s office in the Core, the air in the room was thick and silent. Eon knew they looked like hell, but as the sole remaining member of one of the top warbands, they knew they were recognized.

They gave their report to Tribunes Torga and Makk.

They were informed that a few weeks after the warband had departed, they came across more intel about the group they’d been sent with. They were an Inquest asura krewe, not part of the official Lion’s Arch or Consortium team studying how to utilize Fractals. The Inquest were attempting their own way into them for study and experimentation, which is why it went downhill so quickly. They weren’t using the safe channels to go through them, they were cutting corners, and it cost Eon’s entire warband.

Eon left the Black Citadel after this. The Tribunes informed them that it had only been six months since they’d left, and that they would be expecting a full written report and they would be contacting Eon again to do missions for the Legion. They would not be doing that.

They went to the Durmand Priory, needing to be as far away from the Legions as they could be, and wanting to study what had happened to them in the Mists, what their new magic was and to hone their abilities further. The Priory was interested in their experiences and gave them membership. Eon remains a member to this day. (These events cause Eon to skip the levels 10-30 personal story missions and are immediately thrown into the 40+ story missions, leading to them becoming the Commander).

[supercomputer-lizard]

Iron Warrior oc poll

Context: Made in my English class as the teacher told us to make a character for either an existing piece of media or our own made up one

Zherel Ironskull:

Zherel Ironskull is an Iron Warrior created using the daemonculaba, but before that he was a random guy. A forgettable teenager in a forgettable village on a forgettable planet that was occupied by the Iron Warriors. He was taken to the daemonculaba and turned into a space marine. Then he joined a warband known as the Claws of Steel with a few others, the warband was lead by one of few Iron Warriors that betrayed the Imperium and wasn’t an ass. He mentored the new guys, before being killed by Zherel while sleeping, who promptly took place as the leader. I should mention that he uses a lighting claw, which also has a flamer on it, on his left arm and a one handed power sword in his right. He also took the old leaders helmet and put it on his chest plate as a trophy and his armor is like a mix of normal space marine armor and terminator armor. He would then spend time fighting people, expanded the Claws of Steel and sort of became like an arms dealer to other warbands. But other than that, he was some special weapons to himself as well.

Cool Weapons:

Khornate missiles: basically a missile that has several Bloodletters trapped in small metal boxes in it, then drop the missile on your enemies and watch the daemons come out. The missile is large than a space marine and contains 14 Bloodletters

that’s it, I don’t have any more about this guy or any weapons

[cheddargoblin]

Commander Week #1: Race

List

A small scrap of paper with a childish doodle on it, clearly aged and well-loved. Kept neatly among the commanders possessions and miraculously still intact. It was a big day at the fahrar, at least for one particular newly christened warband! They had chosen the name Steel for themselves, and although time and other factors would see this name change time and time again, for now, the young and eager steel warband were about to face their first mission, their first REAL assignment as a proper warband! It was every young warband's least favorite job; scrap and haul duty, bringing supplies back to the citadel proper. No real glory or adventure to the task, unlike the other roles young warbands could receive such as tutelage or auxiliary assistance to other bands close to home. But no, the young and energetic warband received the nightmare scenario of glory seekers everywhere; And they couldnt be more excited about it. A sleepless night was spend making stories, plans, and bets. The band had yet to happen upon a true winner, with only a few personalities among the cubs generating enough dominance and friction to warrant a real leader, but tomorrow would change everything. The cubs had decided amongst themselves that Whomever brought something back first would be the real, true leader of the band. For Real This Time! Whilst Telkas most adamant and headstrong rival in the band set about to get the largest and heaviest box out of the way all at once, She herself chose to recruit her future sparring partner, Dinky, to get a few smaller pieces moved first, easily securing a victory, despite her rivals frantic scramble for running after the pair with a smaller item after they had passed! With a bitter rivalry that never was and a day of hard work hauling, Telka was acknowledged (occasionally bitterly, for a while) as the proper shot-caller of the band, following a decisive victory in a race of which no one had stopped to think of making regulatory rules other than "win".

[voices-of-favor]

I have mentioned heretics beefing with the Voices of Favor, but who are, or rather is this big bad heretic?

Naveed, known as the "Steel Stag" by his followers, was a posessed space marine champion fighting in the name of Slaanesh. He led a small warband called the "Stag sect", which slowly introduced the local forces of planet Malto to Slaanesh and their gifts, starting the massive Malto uprising which would lead to the return/founding of the Voices

After their cultists were defeated, Naveed and his most loyal marines fled the world to fight a century-long guerilla campaign against the Voices all over the Malto sector

Naveeds reign of terror ended soon after his greatest triumph - a few years after he butchered Vukar, the legendary chaplain of the Voices, his best student Perun, still one of the chapters Accusers back then, tracked Naveed down and ambushed him, defeating the chaos champion after a long duel by beheading him with his own axe, which Perun would claim as a trophy along with Naveeds antlers

While Perun wields the now-purified war axe (named "Cloud caller"), the posessed marines antlers are locked up deep within the chapters fortress monastery for it is said that the essence of Naveed, or possibly even his very soul, still endures in this relic, waiting for a chance to spread its corruption once more