#Thwisps

[4hoursleeptime]

Thwisps

Fire.

Raining down on the small town of Tanawyr, the once-peaceful night’s sky blackened by billowing smoke. The flitting, familiar forms of the Thwisps were now gone, replaced by a cloak of sorrowful destruction, and its cause—a shape of boiling red rage: A mighty Dragon.

Darielle threw herself to the ground as a burning wave of flame shot past her, frighteningly close. The ends of her long, brown hair smoldered a bit, and she fervently reached behind herself to pat it out. She scrambled to her feet and continued running, trying desperately to distance herself from the monster, paying no mind to the few people still on the streets she pushed by in her efforts to escape. The angry roars barely lessened as she made it to her destination: The blacksmith’s shop. This was one of the sturdiest buildings in town, and hopefully it was more than just a little fireproof. She patted herself, searching for her key and cursing herself as she remembered she’d left it on her nightstand at home in the hurry to get out.

She looked back towards the center of town, hoping the dragon was still out of sight. No such luck. She saw the great, leathery wings before she saw the monster itself rise above the buildings, beating its wings to keep aloft. Its crimson scales shimmered with a horrific beauty in the light of the fires, and the large, horned head that must have been as large as Darielle’s torso turned, searching. She swallowed as their eyes seemed to meet, her emerald eyes staring into the dragon’s blazing yellow orbs as they filled her with dread. The dragon roared and opened its maw wide, the flicker of flames visible even from here. She could feel her heart stop; her legs frozen in place as she saw her own demise building inside the monster’s terrible jaws. Before anything could happen, though, she felt a hand grab her white tunic and yank her around the side of the shop. Looking up at her savior, she immediately recognized the only person in town that wasn’t a Pallide; Orrum Fovis, the old storyteller.

“Delgato, right? Anything going on up there, or were you just planning to let ‘er broil you?” He demanded, poking her forehead as a wall of fire engulfed the area she had just been standing. After a few moments, the intense, continuous, forceful stream of flame overcame the structural integrity of the building, and the front wall of her cousin’s store collapsed inwards onto itself. Darielle pressed herself against the wall of the building next to them, watching Orrum follow suit, his tanned skin and leather coat in stark contrast to her pale white skin and tunic.

“I wish I’d left home when I had the chance.” She grumbled, flinching as the sounds of destruction continued filling the air. “But no, I just had to do what I was told, and stick around to help my cousin with the store… look where that got me. On my own watching the store while he’s off on his honeymoon, so of course everything gets destroyed now.” She continued, yelping as Orrum reached out and swatted her head gently.

“Shut your trap, girl! Dragons got some crazy hearing, an’ she seems to think she incinerated you!” He whispered, glaring at her with his piercing grey eyes. Darielle nodded dumbly, keeping her mouth shut and listening intently.

  They stayed like that for longer than either of them cared to count, but eventually it seemed as if the dragon had run out of things to burn… or at least it got bored. With a final roar, the red monster soared over them and out of the ruined town, leaving the fires burning. Once the dragon was gone, Darielle let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and slumped to the ground against the wall. Her heart was pounding so hard that she was sure Orrum could hear it, and she suddenly felt the sticky warmth of sweat coating her body. She stared dumbly at the ruins of Birel’s shop for several long minutes, feeling the adrenaline slowly fade before the harsh reality hit her like a hammer. The town might recover eventually from this, but Birel wouldn’t be able to start up his business for at least a couple of months, and she couldn’t do anything until he got back anyway… so she’d have to live off charity and what little survived the attack for some time. She struggled to her unsteady feet, moving towards the ruined building in hopes of finding something salvageable. The fires had mostly gone out here, but the stone was still warm to the touch as she dug through it slowly. Orrum sighed and watched, the old man clearly exhausted from running around like he had. She didn’t know what she was looking for. Something to just make everything go back to normal, something expensive enough to sell to some unlikely traveler and get everything fixed up for Birel before he came home.

Darielle was about to give up and go back to her house to see what had survived there when she heard an odd screeching noise. She froze, staring at the stones under her, wondering if maybe the senseless destruction and near-miss with a fiery death had driven her usually timid self a little bit insane. After a moment, though, she heard it again, weaker this time and accompanied by a slight shifting of the rocks. There was something under there. She redoubled her efforts, pulling away the stonework and wincing as she scraped up her hands doing so, most of her nails broken before she revealed the fruits of her labour.

“Orrum! I think you might want to see this…” She called, looking back to the old man. He was slumped against the wall, waving his hand dismissively.

“Later, Riel… I ain’t as spry as I used to be…” He groaned. His complaints were suddenly forgotten, however, as Darielle carefully lifted the survivor. Soft, almost leathery scales, blackened by soot, covered most of its body, and a line of thicker, overlapping scales ran down its spine. Four claw-tipped limbs moved weakly as it was lifted, showing off some surprisingly intact, membranous, bat-like wings on its front limbs. Its head was about the size of both of her hands, and the creatures small, sharp teeth were visible in its mouth, while the creature’s closed eyes were disproportionately large, smaller than its dog-like ears.  A long, wispy tail hung down from her hands, equal to the length of the creatures’ torso and head. Darielle held the housecat-sized creature in her arms, noticing the numerous small injuries covering the creature and oozing some blood onto her once-pristine tunic. She swallowed, barely able to believe her eyes as she held a baby Thwisp in her arms.

    As the sun’s rays began to force themselves into view between the vast mountains of the Giant’s Brow, the survivors had picked themselves up and, almost unfeelingly, set themselves to work. Yes, it was sad, but mourning wouldn’t feed their families. The buildings that were intact enough to be safe were converted into hospitals and shelters, and those with the strongest stomachs went about collecting the dead. From what anyone could tell so far, most of them had managed to escape with their lives, and many without injury. Those who weren’t healers or rounding up the dead found themselves either working to clean up rubble, trying to salvage food, or cooking said food.

Darielle, however, had what had been decided was a much more important task. Her home was demolished, and she was hardly in the mood to pick through the debris for anything that may have survived just yet. So instead, Orrum had graciously let her use his house- a small, quaint building at the edge of town, far enough away from the centre of the town to suffer only minor damage- to take care of her discovery. The building was nothing if not old-fashioned, with sturdy, rough wood paneling on the floor and ancient brickwork making up the walls. The house had four rooms on the main floor, as well as a staircase leading up to its second floor. The rooms on the ground level consisted of a kitchen with an ancient stove that smelled of old woodsmoke and some mostly empty cupboards, a dining hall with a dust-caked wooden table surrounded by three chairs, the main entryway with hooks for jackets and some sparse decoration, and the room she was currently in: the washcloset. The creature she’d rescued had been seemingly comatose for hours now, only weakly moving his limbs on reflex, barely even stirring. Her first task was to clean him. She’d filled a bucket with water and took a clean rag, tenderly wetting the cloth and trying to smudge away the soot and blood. Her tunic was, in fact, ruined by the red liquid, but she knew that if it was already soiled then why should she change to clean the Thwisp. Besides, trying on some of Orrum’s clothes hardly appealed to her. Every so often, she would pour some of the water over the young thwisp, slowly chipping away at the ashy soot to reveal the iridescent green scales in their proper glory. When the worst of the dirtiness was taken care of, she set his limp body in her lap and inspected his wounds. For the most part, the bleeding had stopped, luckily. His wings were a bit ragged at the ends and she saw several patches of missing scales, but the little creature was very lucky, it would seem. She sighed, taking a deep breath and shaking the sleepiness from her mind. She couldn’t sleep now, what would she do if something happened while she was asleep? She sighed again, taking a moment to breathe and absently run her hand over her charge. The loose line of scales on his back made a twinkling sound as she ran her hand over them, clinking together like windchimes. The corners of her mouth curled up into a smile, taking the time to properly admire the thwisp. She’d never really thought twice about the creatures that spent so much time in and above her town, she suddenly realized. They’d just always been there, like the stars in the sky and the cool, mountain breeze. Not now, though. The melodious cacophony of their trilling calls- something she’d never paid any mind to- were gone, leaving an empty, deafening silence in their absence. Now that she held one, though, she found herself missing them terribly. As she stroked his scales gently, it took her several moments before she realized she was staring into large, yellow eyes. She let out a startled squeak, jolting back and lifting her hand from his back. This prompted an equally startled squawk from the creature, jumping in her hold and almost falling, the cry turning into a hiss as his injuries made themselves known to him. Darielle hushed him gently, lifting a hand to show she meant no harm, as the line of scales she’d been petting raised themselves in an attempt to seem threatening. Their eyes never broke from each other, however. She stared into his disproportionately large, round eye, yellow as an egg yolk and streaked with gold, save for a cat-like vertical slash of a pupil. After several long seconds of nervous silence, however, the scales slowly relaxed, the thwisp deciding she meant no harm but still staring up at her with unblinking wariness.

“Oh good, it’s up.” Came a gruff voice behind them, making them both jump and the scales immediately stand up again. Darielle looked back to see Orrum taking off his ash-blackened coat and setting it on a hook by the door, the old man having slipped in with surprising stealth. He looked horrible, coated in a layer of dirt and ash, his greying hair looking as though it had regained its black colour once again. “How’s it looking?”

“He seems alright… a little worse for wear but he got very lucky. Nothing seems serious.” Darielle responded, looking back to the thwisp and hushing him again. “… Tell me about Thwisps, Orrum. I’ve never really thought twice about them, but now… I realize I don’t know very much about them at all.” Darielle finally piped up, glancing into the kitchen.

Orrum grunted and glanced over at her. “Thwisps are symbols, really. They’re why your people settled down here, apparently. Symbols of protection and safety, an’ all that. No one wants to hurt ‘em, so they adapted pretty quick to having us around, even started liking it so much they’d fly down an’ relax with us. Beautiful singers, ‘specially during mating season, hah!” He chuckled, prompting a quick glare from Darielle. “Thwisps aren’t known for their bravery, an’ even less so for their prowess in a scuffle. Couldn’t fight off annoyed pussy cat, most of them.”

“That’s hardly fair! Aren’t they symbols of safety? You just said so.” Darielle retorted.

“Yeah, they sure are. ‘Cause if they’re hanging ‘round a place, it means they got no reason to be scared there!”

“I think you’re just generalizing. I certainly didn’t see you out there waving your stick at the dragon!”

“Boiling Red ain’t the same as a grouchy housecat! Back then wasn’t an example, you know!”

“I thought you were a storyteller, aren’t you supposed to take every opportunity as an example for a story?”

“That’s enough outta you, Riel.”

“That’s not my name.”

“An’ my name ain’t Rum, but it’s what the pub knows me for, hah!”

Darielle sighed, shaking her head and looking back at the thwisp. He seemed to be looking around curiously, and she realized her hand was back on it, slipping down the row of scales on his back soothingly. “An’ it seems you’re a real natural with ‘em, considering you don’t know a thing about ‘em.” He added, pouring the now-ready tea into two cups and bringing one to her. The cup was chipped and plain white, clearly not important, but considering how barren his kitchen was and how often she saw him performing at the tavern, it made sense that he wouldn’t put too much care into his dishes. “One more thing about Thwisps you might wanna know.” He added, setting the cup down. “They’re pack animals. They don’t like being separated from their family, so your little friend there ain’t gonna be this calm forever.”

Darielle frowned at that, watching as he left the room and stomped up the stairs, grumbling about needing to change. She sighed, looking down at the thwisp in her arms and gently rubbing its head. He couldn’t stay with her forever, she knew that. But what if the other thwisps didn’t come back? Orrum had said they settled down in places they had no reason to be afraid in, but a dragon attack certainly qualified as a reason, didn’t it? That attack had rattled her to the core, and if the thwisps were as defenseless and cowardly as Orrum suggested, it certainly would make sense to stay away now. She stared down at the creature, wishing for some solution to appear. He simply stared back at her and let out a distinctly unhelpful chirp. “Hey little guy… I guess I have to get you to your family, huh?” She murmured, then paused. “But… if your family isn’t here… I guess that means I’d have to go on an adventure with you to find them, won’t I?” She asked, unable to keep the small swell of excitement from her voice. For once in her life, she didn’t have to just do what she was told. No one was here to tell her to do something, and she had a mission now that was too important for her to just be talked out of it… maybe it was time for her to finally take charge! If she’d done that in the first place, then she wouldn’t have been Birel’s assistant for the last five years, working hard to prove herself since she could hold a hammer and stopping her from ever seeing the world. The thwisp tilted his head as he stared up at her, shifting and moving until he was practically standing on his hind legs in her arms, leaning the rest of his body against her chest and nosing into her neck. She laughed, feeling him sniff at her like a very strange dog.

“You like that idea, huh?” She asked. “Then it’s settled! We’re going on an adventure together!” She announced, standing up suddenly. The thwisp in her arms let out a squeak of excitement and surprise as she stood, and Darielle suddenly felt a nip to the side of her neck, making her cry out and lift her free hand to nudge his head out of the way, holding the area and feeling a little blood leak out. The bite was clearly not meant to harm, though. “Sorry!” She apologized, realizing sudden movements most likely weren’t welcome for the startled thwisp.

    As she waited for Orrum to return, a few things began to gnaw at the back of her mind. Why did Orrum call the dragon ‘Boiling Red’ twice now? Where would they go to look for the thwisps? And something that overtook any other thoughts in her mind; What was her new companion’s name? As she pondered this, the old storyteller came back down the stairs, hair still slightly damp from its apparent washing. The ash was mostly gone from his body, and he wore a clean, if plain, brown tunic and trousers. He leaned on his gnarled walking stick as he reached the bottom of the stairs, the past day having not been kind to his aged body. “Do you know the dragon?” She blurted, making Orrum jump slightly and turn to blink at her as she stood there, holding the thwisp to her chest.

“Damn, Riel, you startled me!” He huffed.

He waited for several long moments for her to respond, but she simply stared at him. She wanted answers.

“Alright, alright, fine. Yeah, I’d recognize that dragon anywhere. She’s got legends about her, you know! The terrible Boiling Red, scourge of the lands. She doesn’t head this far north too often, but she matches all the stories far too well to be a coincidence.” He sighed.

Darielle nodded, digesting this information. “Right… okay. Second question… Do you know where the thwisps would go after running away from Boiling Red like that?” She asked, her little friend chirping and glancing over at Orrum, as if wondering the same.

He shrugged. “South. There’s a little grove a couple weeks’ foot travel south of here, thwisps live there too. If these ones got spooked, they may have gone to live with more of their kind.” He suggested, then frowned. “Hold on now… does this mean you’re planning to go?”

Darielle nodded again, this time with determination. “I always wanted to go out on an adventure, this seems like the best chance I’ll get!” She replied, making him groan.

“There’s no talking you outta this… so I guess I gotta go too. Otherwise you’ll get yourself lost or killed… or both. Besides… maybe it’ll make for a good story one day.”

She beamed at that, grinning down at the little thwisp. “So, what’s his name?” Orrum piped up again, making her think for a moment.

The name finally popped into her head. She had no idea where it came from, but something made her feel so sure, so right about it. She petted the little thwisp, looking at Orrum again.

“Kovek. His name is Kovek.” She announced, receiving an approving, almost affirming chirp from her newly named friend.

“Kovek? An’ just what gave you that idea, eh?” Orrum scoffed.

Darielle was quiet for a moment, looking down and wondering if she was wrong. No, she was right! “I’m not sure, but I just can’t shake the feeling that I’m right!” Yes, she was. That was his name. Kovek chirped and nosed into the small bite mark he’d left in her neck, seeming to apologize for it. She gently patted his back, even as she continued staring down the taller man until Orrum gave up.

“Seems like he won’t accept anything else, huh? Fine. Kovek the thwisp. I’m sure that name’ll stick when I tell the story of how you got yourself killed…” Orrum grumbled, but Darielle could see the slight shine of amusement in his eye. He was looking forward to whatever happened next, despite his grouchy demeanor.

[kamadanstalkers]

-=Meet the Kamadan Stalkers=-

Name: Sankofa Jimiyu Race: Human of Elonan ancestry Occupation: Mesmer Hobby: Artificing and low-key potion peddler

Mesmer main, Sankofa is the Pact Commander and leader of the Kamadan Stalkers. Curious and determined, she does her best to exceed expectations whenever possible, despite her personal insecurities. She is besties with the Norn Berserker, Sera dër Skulhund.

Name: Kappow Race: Asuran Synergetics Golemancy Reasearcher Occupation: NecroCurious Minionmancer Hobby: Blacksmith

Kappow is leads the Stalker’s R&D krewe and specializes in studies of death magic conversion in application for everyday use. Like other Asurans, she will devolve into using technobabble that will confuse her guildmates, but tinged with a bit of macabre frankness that even gives pause to her krewemates during lunch breaks. She also has a disjointed old plushie that Toymaker Tixx gifted her that follows her around. Its eerie mews sound like they are far away as she cuddles her little, “Beans”

Name: Thwisp Race: Sylvari from the Garden of Dawn Occupation: Ranger Hobby: Leatherworking and running around nekkid (Her leaves fell off)

While Thwisp loves all her animal companions, she is bonded deeply with her fern hound, Mandrake. Her curiosity has gotten her in and out trouble often, but she is attuned to the strengths of her pets and together they overcome most challenges. Like her name, Thwisp’s voice is quiet and light. Her sister, Serphyre, often will advocate in her stead when others may dismiss her wisdom of the natural world around them.

Name: Sera dër Skulhund Race: Wolfborn Norn Occupation: Berserker Hobby: Cooking and bashing assholes

Foul-mouthed, loud and stubborn as a dolyak bull, Sera is happiest when she is cooking, or smashing someonesomething to bits. In between cooking and smashing she can be too drunk to remember what she smashed the day before. Sera’s temper is only matched by her passion. She loves to find new and exotic ingredients and make local dishes that remind her friends of home, hearth and their bonds. She Is best buds with Sankofa, even though she is a flaky Mez, often spars with Mala. And a strange dislike of pirates…

Name: Mala Searsoul Race: Charr Bood Legion Gladium and Pact Tactician Occupation: Floofybutt Guardian Hobby: Armorworking

Mala is a visionary. She joined the Vigil after the defeat of Zhaitan and was stationed with the Pact soon after. Her keen tactical sense has made her invaluable to the Stalkers. She came to meet Sera during her time as a stubborn recruit. She knocked Sera round for a while and got the feel for her style. She suggested that she change her tactics when fighting, leading Sera to adopt her signature weapon: A Ice and Earth imbued Hammer called “The Tenderizer”. Mala came to regret the advice as she has not been able to beat Sera since.

Name: Serphyre Race: Sylvari from the Garden of Night Occupation: Elementalist Healer Hobby: Jewlerycrafting

Serphyre is beautiful. But rather than flaunt it in arrogance, she uses it to inspire, advocate and give hope to others. Because of this, she is actually quite self conscious about how others perceive her failures. That in failing, she may cause others to lose heart. On the battlefield, she is a summer’s kiss that staves of the chill of death. But the darkness in her eyes is there for a reason.

[kamadanstalkers]

-=Allies and Antagonists=-

Name: Ger Race: Asura, College of Synergetics alumni Occupation: Inquest Researcher Engineer and pessimistic little rat shit. Wants to see the world burn Hobby: Huntsman Ger had worked alone most of his college years. Shunning most opportunities of enlisting with a krewe. He actually preferred it that way. He soon found that any headway in his research would require the support of a krewe with massive resources. He would have been a bookah to turn down the opportunity to develop simulations on Inquest cutting edge tech. They seemed to not have a problem with the ethics of his research into entropic qualities of biometric systems. He hoped to uncover a deeper understanding of The Eternal Alchemy. However, the price for having access, was either an endless workload of paperwork for long hours with little compensation, or “field work” in outposts in the middle of nowhere. He decided on the latter, bringing a flamethrower to deal with the constant interruptions due to lack security measures.

Name: Kai Akatora Race: Human of Canthan Ancestry Occupation: Assassin and sneaky ninja that stole mah heart. Hobby: Being less of a douche This time, Kai and the Capn’ are on equal footing. No vitriol or rivalry. Just a quiet familiarity. When Natsume ran off to Divinitiy’s Reach. He was on the sidelines, ensuring her safety. During this time he was sent to join a delegation to Ascalon for a treaty signing with the Charr legions at Summit Peak. As a Whispers plant among the Shining Blade (or vice versa depending on which way the wind was blowing), Kai took up station at the conference. While there a familiar face he never expected, appeared. Priory Historian Kali Ferroclaw. They stuck up a professional relationship that became casual over time. He slipped a few times and called her, “Empress”. She finally,asked what he meant by it. “Charr have no gods. So calling you a goddess would have been inappropriate?” They have been good friends since.

Name: Kali Ferroclaw (Empress) Race: Flame Legion Charr Occupation: Burning Red Tiger Tempest. She hates you. Hobby: Facemelting her foes A daughter of flame, Kali was a wildfire that burned her way out of their traditions and into Iron’s Ferrous Warband. Iron helped her forge her way into the Priory where knowledge tempered her somewhat. She received a missive that dispatched her to record the events of the Ebonhawke Pact, a historic moment for her people. However, attacks from Separatists and Renegades had her fighting more than keeping records. She struck up relations with a human while there. He began to call her Empress and she began to call him “Chu'Kai”. They have been close since then.

Name: Frondel Race: Sylvari of the Garden of Noon Occupation: Warrior and a very good salad man that puts baby birds back in nest, Hobby: Writing Poetry Unlike his sister, Thwisp. Frondel lacks the capacity to use his indoor voice or read a room. Loud, boisterous and optimistic, he believes in the best in others. As a warrior, his fights are challenges to his own will, not battles to defeat foes. Some dismiss him as gullible, and seem to be unexpectedly cowed when he flexes his muscle or gives them a pep talk when he appeals to their better nature.

Name: Grimmhoar Race: Sylvari of the Garden of Dusk Occupation: Reaper that can not find a fuck to give. Hobby: Collecting small clear glass figurines Grimmhoar, Grim to his friends if he had any, is usually quite a dour fellow. He likes his times alone, keeping his surroundings in order, and un-moving. He endures Frondel’s jovial nature, even envying him a little. He gets dragged along as this oblivious oaf brays on about whatever nonsense has filled his head for the day. And then there is the poetry. Its horrible, long and grammatically flawed. Regardless of how he thinks about it, those that seem to have similar critiques may find themselves haunted by a cold chill of death till they find it in their hearts to be more kind.

Name: Cobrawn Clawforge Race: Iron Legion Charr Occupation: Scrapper Hobby: Pranks If there is anything you have thought about Charr that resembles a house cat, Cobrawn has you as a mark. He relishes teasing stupid mice into thinking Charr are misunderstood cats. Humans trying to get them to wear, “cute” things, calling them by infantile versions of fearsome names. The Charr who are at the receiving end of this fair no better, but he gets a laugh out of it. Still, he has some friends that he seems to not have it in for. A Herald Asura with the heart of a Legionare, that returned to the battlefield countless times to pick up her allies and get them to safety,even after enduring near fatal wounds. Kava earned his respect and together, they developed an ETS to retrieve soldiers in the field and get them to safety and treatment in minutes.

Name: Kava Seer Race: Asura, College of Statistics alumni Occupation: Herald muffin that needs a hug. Hobby: Playing Polymock, “Dwarves and Delves” with friends Kava always had problems asserting herself. Ignored on her classes, and her krewe as her ideas were overlooked. She encountered a Vigil recruiter and she decided to join because there were just orders to follow. Opinions didn’t matter enough to matter. While she passed the training, she was relegated to duties at outposts instead of patrols. A quiet evening began with the scent of death hanging over the camp. A runner came in and reported a Risen attack that had pinned down a patrol on the other side of enemy lines. Kava tried to speak up. Her idea could save lives, but once again, she was ignored. She decided to go on her own, taking medical supplies with her. She found the others. The sound of blades tearing into decayed flesh was distant and slowly started to peter off into silence. She was too late, not by hours or minutes, but by seconds. From then she was determined to develop an Emergency Transport System (ETS) for recovery of wounded on the battlefield. She had countless opprtunities to test her system. Failures were lives lost. When her injuries sidelined her after a system breakdown during deployment, she was apporched by a curious Charr engineer. He saw her struggles as inspiring. He listened intently to her ideas and they deployed the first working prototype in a few weeks after her recovery. When seen together, many wonder how such an odd couple came to be. Kava: “He is my big floofy-woofy Charr baby.” Cobrawn: “Nyaaa (๑ↀᆺↀ๑)~♥”

Name: Amadahy Ravensong Race: Norn Raven Shaman Occupation: Druid Hobby: Solving Puzzles and Riddles Amadahy’s birth was auspicious as the shadow of a rare white raven fell over her. Always full of questions and seeking answers, it was Raven of course that enlightened her to deep magiks of how to weave life forces to mend wounds and heal the sick. But Raven has charged her to wander far beyond the comforts of home and hearth. the Wisdom of the Spirit is not found in a book or a picture. It is to be experienced.

Name: Kagale (Leo) Mistweaver Race: Charr Whispers Creator Occupation: Renegade that really HATES dragons, but nice otherwise. Litterbox Trained. Hobby: Composing music From the moment he was born, he had been called less than Charr. Small, weak. A mind for things other than battle. He became friends with an old Charr named Tybalt who introduced him to some friends of his. With the Whispers, Leo began to find himself. He was a better listener than a speaker. When he did speak, his words were crafted, heavy and deep. As a Creator, he used any intel acquired to craft intricate plans with precise detail. When the Pact was formed, he stayed with the Whispers for quite some time until the discovery of a lost Charr tribe. The Olmakhan. Curious, he took on the task of an agent among them to sort out the motivations of this new faction as Kagale.

Name: Batonga Race: Norn Bear Shaman Occupation: Sourge. Likes to throw shade. =P Hobby: Storytelling A morning in Bear’s lodge would have the children following Batonga as he would tell parables masked in tales of Norn of Legend. As he came to befriend other races, he would recount those stories as well. When refugees from Elona came to Lion’s Arch, some ventured to Hoelbrak. They had their own stories. He bid  farewell to his students and pushed further south in the Shiverpeaks and into Elona. In his travels, he found a Akesi, a necromancer that shared with him how to wield a torch and command the sands. He is still traveling Elona, weaving stories of his people, learning new ones and watching one unfold as the Pact Commander carves their own legend into history.