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queer-as-used-by-tolkien · 3 years ago

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Vigil has got to have a history by this point

You know, it would be ridiculously amazing if Forgal had told us stories about the "early days of the Vigil."

I mean, I assume he was around for that, mostly. He's clearly a high-ranking member, even for a Warmaster.

I mean, when was the first time the Vigil encountered the Order of Whispers? How and when did they get in on "the Orders don't like each other" trend? Was it a specific battle? A growing sentiment? A particular individual who spread a popular opinion? A bad first impression?

What events, beyond Almorra's Massacre of course, defined the Vigil and made it the order it is today?

It doesn't have that much history. We're probably making history right now. Significant events from the "early days of the Vigil" would more likely be things happening now, in the first decade or two. Things like defeating Kralkatorrik. Things like Almorra's death. And, when we get there, having defeated all of the Elder Dragons. I firmly believe the Vigil will persist. Maybe they'll be the ones to keep an eye on the newly-appointed dragons, like Aurene.

But, like, there's probably half a million small things that happened in the first five years. How exciting was it for the original members when the Vigil Keep was built? Was there any controversy over it being built on Krytan soil? How were the Vigil's emblem, colors, and armor sets crafted? Did leadership try to mandate uniforms only to be shot down?

Calm down, Anet, not every plot has to be world-ending. Take the time to do a little more worldbuilding.

What about after Zhaitan's defeat? Were there mass resignations because those soldiers had only joined to fight Risen and wanted to go back to their families, since they'd been lucky enough not to die? If so, how did the soldiers who remain regard them? Deserters, or veterans who'd earned their rest? Or what if they didn't - what if they collectively decided to stay because they'd seen the good they could do? And were there mass recruits who wanted in on the dragon-slaying business now that it would be a success? If so, how do old soldiers regard the new recruits who only joined up when it looked good, who didn't know the desperation of fighting even if it might not work? Are there any recruits who joined because of Scarlet that were mistakenly believed to be in the former group?

And then the World Summit? How did the Vigil integrate with the soldiers from other races who were assigned to work with them? Scorned because they weren't even Pact, because they had to be ordered out here? Or did old hands respect them because they were thrown into a dragon fight they'd never asked for, and holding up relatively well?

What was the Vigil's official reaction to the turning sylvari? What was the internal reaction, after all was said and done? What did Almorra do with soldiers who insisted on being anti-sylvari? (We know she was kind to the sylvari, but little else.) Really, how deep was the scar of Maguuma? How deep was the scar of losing Trahearne on those who'd never known him personally? I want to know the numbers of sylvari that threw down their weapons and refused to fight any more, because they'd followed Trahearne as the leader of the Pact, and without him it wasn't the Pact? I want to know the non-sylvari that did that. Tell me more about the faction that thinks Trahearne was to blame! Was there any pushback to that? Or were those who supported him mostly sylvari, and therefore quickly silenced after the whole Mordremoth ordeal?

What was the most common Vigil takeaway after watching their sylvari friends turn on them? Was it disgust, or was it support? Did it massively increase the common soldiers' feeling of connection and respect for Almorra, who had had to kill her warband under similar circumstances?

What was the Vigil's reaction to a Vigil Commander who resigned from the Pact? Mimicry, or scorn? Was the Commander known as a deserter or did Almorra pitch it to them as going on leave? Was the player's return to leading at Thunderhead Keep met with joy at the return of the Commander, or wondering if they'd just leave again?

How did these things compare and contrast with the other Orders' reactions?

What was the Vigil's reaction to Aurene? What was their reaction to her death? Resurrection? Ascension to replace Kralkatorrik?

How did the Vigil react to Bangar being put in a cage? Rage that he wasn't executed, or a smug sense of poetic justice?

As each dragon fell, how did the Vigil celebrate the deaths of each dragon and its impact on the various races? After the fall of Zhaitan, were humans embraced and told "we've reclaimed your homeland for you!" Were sylvari given a shoulder to cry on after Mordremoth, and were they assured it was all over and they didn't have to worry anymore? Bangar had the All-Legion Rally, but did the Vigil do something different for their own people? And Jormag - what kind of celebration did the Vigil norn throw alongside their brothers and sisters of other races? And what was the reaction to Primordus' death?

Are there mass resignations now, since all the dragons that threaten the continent of Tyria are gone? Or do they care about Cantha and the DSD as well? Or do they not know about the DSD and assume their job is done? If so, what will their reaction be to finding out it does exist, and they can't (in good conscience) go home yet?

In short, the Vigil has been through a lot, and we don't know what they think of it all. If you're a newborn sylvari who joins after the ordeal with Mordremoth, you're going to have a different outlook than one who suffered through it. If you joined only when you thought the Vigil and the Pact were winning, what was your reaction to the crash of the Pact Fleet and the horrors of Maguuma? Shape up? Die? Persist with a horrible attitude? Be a burden on your teammates cleverly enough to not die?

There will be differences between the soldiers depending on when they joined, almost like generational differences. But what are those differences? What has shaped the Vigil and made it what it is today? How do legacy members view it as oppose to new ones? How much pride is carried that the Vigil has lasted through all this? How much uncertainty now that Almorra is dead? Is the Vigil sustainable without her, or was she that amazing that she properly built it to last even without her?

The Vigil is the youngest of the Orders, but it has had some history. It should be acknowledged and fleshed out. Even something as minor as a rejection of uniform would give the Vigil character.

(Should I turn this into a headcanon ask game?)

#vigil #gw2 #almorra soulkeeper #almorra's massacre #zhaitan #mordremoth #kralkatorrik #jormag #primordus #sylvari #pact #commander poobah #tyria #cantha #hot #pof #ibs #s1 #s2 #s3 #s4

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kerra-and-company · 3 years ago

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For Kerra’s 1st Birthday

So. You know how sometimes we imagine animatics in our heads that we never make? I did that, but I was picturing it in such detail that I wrote it down. I still don’t have the skills to animate or draw it, but I figured it might be a good birthday present for Kerra. :)

I’m a couple weeks or so late (very sorry, Ker!), but I’m counting it as her first birthday present. I’ve been playing this game for over a year now, which isn’t long compared to a lot of you, but I’ve definitely fallen in love with it, and I appreciate the community here on Tumblr, no matter how big it might or might not be. Thanks for a great first year, everyone. Love you guys, seriously <3

(I don’t know if this is going to be something other people are super interested in reading or not, but if you are, go for it--it’s under the cut! :) The song is Dirt Around The Tree by Candi Carpenter, and you can listen to it here or on Spotify if you want. Thanks again, folks. I appreciate you a lot.)

[Introductory music plays over brief intro text. Just before the beginning of the song, the text fades to dense clouds.]

I was born in the fall

[The clouds clear, revealing Caledon. The camera/POV swoops through quickly in the direction of the Grove, with various recognizable places there visible as it does so.]

The season when everything is dying

[Camera continues its swoop. If we look closely, we can see that it’s winter, or at least sometime cool, in Caledon. There’s no snow, but there’s frost, and many trees are missing leaves. Farms and gardens are bare.]

We must know what we're in for

[Camera enters the Grove, skirting past the trunk of the Pale Tree and slowing down by pods of not-yet-awakened sylvari. It settles on one.]

That's why we come into this world crying

[The pod splits open, and Kerra falls out. Nearby sylvari try to help her up, but she scrambles in an uncoordinated fashion to her feet, calling out Caithe’s name.]

My mother always told me life's not fair

[The Pale Tree in the Omphalos Chamber, arms open wide, eyes closed. On the word “life”, the camera cuts to Kerra in “Beneath a Cold Moon”, fighting Tiachren. On “not”, the camera cuts to Kerra standing over bodies, next to Caithe and various Wardens. One of the bodies is Tiachren’s. On “fair”, the camera cuts back to the Omphalos Chamber, but this time to Kerra alone. Caithe and Aife are just barely in the image (their shoulders at most), but the focus is on Kerra’s face—troubled and grieving but not quite crying.]

That's probably why I ran away

[The camera spins back around so that we see Kerra looking at the Pale Tree. This time, she’s flanked by the three sylvari order reps, and Cai—the rep from the Order of Whispers—is holding her hand out. Kerra looks down at it. On “why”, the camera cuts to just their hands, clasped in a handshake. On “ran,” the camera cuts to Kerra and Tybalt on the mission to rescue Demmi. They’ve just opened the door to the room where Demmi was locked up, and Kerra’s holding her hand out to Demmi.]

I don't think that I felt safe at home

[Camera zooms in on Kerra’s hand, going to brush her hair-leaves back. When it zooms back out, we see Kerra sitting next to Rel. They’re on the beaches of the Weeping Isle, and her mouth is open, like she’s saying the song lyrics. She’s more in silhouette here than a clear picture, and the focus is on Rel’s face. His forehead is furrowed as if in concern.]

And I don't think that's ever gonna change…

[Kerra’s face comes into clearer focus, still mouthing the words, but this time she looks straight into the camera for a second. As the camera pans around her head, the landscape behind her changes to an airship. She starts to turn away from the camera on the word “ever”, and by “change”, she’s facing away, and we can see her standing at the front of an airship alongside Destiny’s Edge, flying to confront Zhaitan. Kerra’s wearing a long coat now, brown with just-visible green embroidery, and it flaps in the breeze.]

Tell me, what's at the root of all my guilt and anger?

[The image blurs as the camera zooms towards the ground and under it. We see roots, twisting and shifting, twining together.]

What's in the dirt around the tree?

[The camera pans up, more slowly this time so the image is clear. We exit the ground, passing through the levels of the Grove, ending on the plaza in the center where the Pale Tree’s leaves spiral up towards the Omphalos Chamber.]

Heartbreak runs in the family

[Three images. The first is the Pale Tree, eyes down and half-closed. She looks pained. On “runs”, the image shifts to Caithe, with shiny eyes and a shadowy Faolain behind her, side by side with Trahearne, who’s holding Caladbolg with a gaze that’s both tired and far away. On “family”, the image shifts to Kerra, still in the same outfit from the airship, but with a dark background. Her eyes are wide and unsure.]

That's why I'm still running from me.

[The camera zooms out to show two Kerras, now, separated by just enough distance that they’d have to move closer to touch (so maybe a couple meters or so). The first is Kerra as a sapling, in her sylvari armor, and the second is Kerra in her airship outfit. They each look at the camera. On the word “running”, they turn to each other. On “me”, the second Kerra turns away and takes a step away from the first.]

[On the instrumentals, Kerra steps from the black void into the snow, her bow on her back and Felix beside her. She looks worn and tired, her coat torn. She walks from there into a house with Nisha (with a stack of letters), and she smiles. When she leaves the house, her wardrobe changes from brown to blue, and she walks into Southsun, facing Canach and then meeting with him in his cell after. Other images flow after, briefly—her and Dragon’s Watch facing Scarlet, then the party with the nobles, then facing Aerin. Finally, it settles on them all together before the summit, waiting below the Omphalos Chamber for the dignitaries to arrive.]

I read that trauma is genetic

[The camera pans up to the Omphalos Chamber, which is under attack by the Shadow of the Dragon. We focus on the Shadow first as it roars (on the word “trauma”) and bares its teeth, and then we pan to Kerra’s face on “genetic”. She’s terrified—but she’s terrified of what the Shadow means, not that she can’t defeat it.]

Who was the first to hand it down?

[Brief flashes of scenes again. Kerra briefly trying to help her Mother as menders run towards them on “Who”, Kerra-as-Caithe (and Nisha alongside her) watching Wynne’s confession on “first”, Trahearne giving the order to fire on “hand”, and airships falling over Maguuma on “down”.]

Was it my grandpa or his father?

[Kerra, wearing her HoT clothes, standing beside Canach and Caithe to face Mordremoth, the camera fully focusing on him as of the word “grandpa” and leaving them as silhouettes with weapons at his feet.]

You can't ask someone who ain't around

[Kerra running to Trahearne while he’s trapped in Mordremoth’s vines and hanging above the ground, grabbing his hand in hers. On “someone”, the image melts into Kerra holding Caladbolg out in Mordremoth’s mindscape, alone. She’s pointing it at a large seed, and Trahearne’s silhouette is behind her. She’s protecting him. On “ain’t”, Kerra begins to glow purple, and the image fades to brightness and then Mordremoth’s power exploding through the jungle, like the cutscene in canon, implying his death.]

Tell me, what's at the root of all my guilt and anger?

[Again, like before in the first iteration of the chorus, the camera blurs as we zoom down to roots, shifting and intertwining, but this time we can see clearly that they’re growing, too.]

What's in the dirt around the tree?

[Again, we pan through the levels of the Grove to reach the centerpoint with the spiral branches and leaves of the Pale Tree.]

Heartbreak runs in the family

[And again, we have the three sets of images, but they’re slightly different. The Pale Tree is dimmer, clearly wounded and in pain even if the wounds themselves are not visible. The shadow of Faolain looks like the Mordrem version of her, and Caladbolg is shattered. Kerra’s in her HoT outfit now, with nicks in a few of her leaves. She’s not much different physically, but something in her expression makes her look older.]

That's why I'm still running from me.

[And last but not least for repeats, we enter the blank void again, but there are three Kerras this time—sapling-Kerra, Zhaitan-Kerra, and HoT-Kerra. They all start off looking at the camera. On “running”, sapling-Kerra and Zhaitan-Kerra look at HoT-Kerra, and she looks back at them. On “me”, she turns and takes a step away from them.]

[Instrumentals follow, and the steps turn into a full-on run as she crashes into Canach and Nisha’s arms, laughing. Her outfit switches to her LWS3 one as she swings from their arms to Tarir, watching Aurene hatch and pulling her close. Caithe is in that image too, awe and faint affection on her face. As the deeper strings are overrun with lighter notes, a few scenes flicker by—Lazarus awakening, the battle with Caudecus, Balthazar’s reveal. The strings reach a high note as Kerra is shown on the airship to Elona, her clothes changing again to those she wears in PoF. Vlast’s death is shown, a bright light and Balthazar and crystals, followed by Kerra in Kesho and then a flash of her traversing the desert on her raptor. The notes begin to downswing into the bridge as the battle on the mountaintop comes into focus, Kerra fighting Balthazar hand-to-hand with Caladbolg, and on the final few notes, we see him slash down at her where she’s lying, barely breathing, on the ground. There’s darkness, and on the last note, she opens her eyes in the Domain of the Lost. They’re red.]

I wanna be more than a lost little girl

[Spirit-Kerra takes a step forward. She picks her bow up off the ground on “be”, meeting Nenah’s eyes as her guide gestures towards a hill. Glowing blue silhouettes of memories are visible in the distance, but only just barely. On “lost”, we see the full image of Kerra looking towards the hill, determined.]

I'm gonna grow up someday

[The camera shows Kerra climbing the mountain, past various memory images. Some we’ve seen in the video, some we haven’t. In the last image, right on/after the word “someday”, we can see Caladbolg at Kerra’s side.]

Maybe I'll plant another family tree

[Kerra pauses at a memory of her with her partners. It’s not one we’ve seen before, but they’re all smiling at something or someone the memory doesn’t show. Canach’s arm is around Kerra’s waist, Nisha’s is around her shoulder, and she’s holding them both. On “another”, she reaches out as if to touch it but stops just before she does.]

Somewhere far, far away

[Kerra continues and reaches the top of the mountain. The memory there is Aurene, still very much a baby, desperately trying to protect Kerra, and then being wrapped in chains. She looks at the image for a few seconds, blue light giving her face an eerie cast, before grasping Caladbolg’s hilt and nearly leaping down the mountain on “away”.]

[As the music upswings to the final chorus/verse, Kerra bows to the Judge, slashes through the Eater of Souls, and rushes past a very irritated Joko into the portal back to Tyria.]

Far from the root of all my guilt and anger

[The light from the portal fades into a cloudless sky and a vast desert. On “guilt”, the camera pans over to the mountain where Kerra fought Balthazar. Wisps of smoke still come from it, but they’re faint. We can see figures on the mountain, but not well enough to determine features (though if you’ve played PoF you could guess who most of them are).]

Blood in the dirt and on the leaves

[The words describe what we’re seeing. Kerra’s blood is on the sandy dirt of the mountaintop, and it’s splattered in specks on her hair-leaves and face.]

Tell me, what's at the root of all my guilt and anger?

[On “Tell”, Kerra opens her eyes wide. They’re faint purple, as they should be. On “me” she sits up straight, gasping. As the rest of the phrase plays out, we see what she is seeing as her gaze tracks across her friends. Kasmeer, Rytlock…Canach and Nisha. Kasmeer has a tentative but disbelieving smile on her face. Rytlock looks very much like “what the fuck”.]

Am I who I'm supposed to be?

[There’s a beat while Kerra stares at Canach and Nisha and they stare back at her, but on “supposed”, her partners reach their hands out to her. She looks back at them, wide-eyed, like she’s about to cry.]

Heartbreak runs in the family

[On the musical downswing, the image fades into current Kerra in the blank void. Just her, no one else. She’s sitting on the ground, in clothing that’s damaged and burned, with too-bright eyes.]

That's why I'm still running from me.

[There’s six Kerras in total now, in a line as they’ve been in the previous choruses, but all but the first and the last fade into the background on “me”, leaving just sapling-Kerra and PoF-Kerra to stare at each other across the distance of the blank void. Both sitting, both very different. The distance is much larger than a meter.]

Heartbreak runs in the family

[The three picture sets flash, but this time they’re interspersed with Canach and Nisha moving towards Kerra, and they’re different now. On “Heart-”, the image of the Pale Tree is of her with the Menders, giving them a faint smile. On “break”, we see Canach and Nisha taking a step forward. On “runs”, we see Caithe holding a tiny Aurene in her arms, and they both look overjoyed. Trahearne no longer has Caladbolg and his face is scarred to look half-Mordrem, but he’s standing next to Rel, who’s laughing as he kisses the back of Trahearne’s hand. On “the”, we fully fade back to the mountaintop, and Canach and Nisha take another step forward before throwing Kerra into their arms. At the end of this line, we see Kerra crying and holding them tight, with Kas wiping her own tears away and Rytlock starting to laugh with unexpected relief.]

Why am I still running from me?

[Slowly, the image fades back into sapling-Kerra and PoF-Kerra in the void, staring at each other. PoF-Kerra is still crying, but on “me”, she smiles, too.]

[As the final instrumentals play out, both of them stand up. They run toward each other, and they meet in the middle with a tight hug, burying their faces in each other’s shoulder.]

[THE END]

#kerralind #gw2 #happy birthday kerra!!#this song gave me so many her vibes that i came up with a whole animatic that i couldn't draw asdlkfsdf #a very creator vibe i think #and i could say thanks a whole lot more to all of you but seriously: thanks one more time #it's been super nice to get to know you guys and i'm definitely planning on staying :)#my fics #well #kinda; haha #:)#oh also I def should have tagged this with spoilers!! spoilers abound here folks #up to and including pof

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mithrasisgay · 5 years ago

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Lights

@tyrias-library Hope it’s okay to tag you, even though this doesn’t fullfill a prompt!

On AO3

SUMMARY: The pirates of the Chimaera are well aware what eerie lights on the Open Sea mean - Krait. Their prisoners using these lights to wave down ships, begging for help. Every sailor worth their salt knows to avoid these dreaded towers, for their own good.

The fog lies heavy on the surface of the Unending Ocean, making navigation fort he Chimaera nigh impossible. The ship glides slowly through the waves, as distant thunder cracks, lighting up the impenetrable blanket of mist.

“Lights! Lights on the Horizon!” calls Cariyen, the ship’s only Sylvari from the Crow’s Nest, then swings over the small platform’s railings and descends the mast. “Starboard side, Captain.” She elaborates, when she is down on the main deck.

Captain Asha Gaets, flanked by her loyal First Mate Snezz, is already peering through her spyglass, brows furrowed as she strains to make out anything. “I see ‘em. Very faint. Think they’re moving a little.” She says, lowering the spyglass from her eye and looking down to her asuran companion. “Mh, bad idea, Captain.” Snezz remarks. “We’re too far out to be encountering anything friendly.” “I know.” Asha responds. “Krait.” “Those lights mean that they have prisoners, trying to wave down ships.” Snezz speaks up a little, as the crew gathers around. “We’d do best to avoid them, unless we want to join them in their cages.”

“Prisoners?” a sharp voice enter the conversation, as Farris Nightrunner, a young Charr, squeezes her way through the small crowd. “Boss, we gotta help them. Who knows what the greasy snakes are doing to them!” “That’s a terrible-…” Snezz begins, but is cut off quickly by Farris’ growl. “Coward! If we leave them, their blood’s on our hands. Your hands!” she snarls at the small Asura, who does not even flinch. “These waters are their domain, Farris.” He calmly argues. “If we engage, we will all suffer their fate. There’s courage, and there’s recklessness.” “Are you calling me a fool, you sniveling runt? You might run from a challenge, but we-…” Farris stops mid-sentence, interrupted by the Captain firing a gunshot into the skies.

“Good thing that decision isn’t up to you two.” Asha says, stowing her flintlock on her belt again. Snezz looks up to her with hope in his eyes, but she only graces him with a crooked grin. “Farris, you’re right. We’re going in.” “Captain-…” “No. Zip it up, Snezz.” Asha raises her hand for emphasis. “I’m not leaving these people.” A brief beat of silence occurs, in which Snezz leans back against the mast and huffs in exasperation, wondering how Asha Gaets even stayed alive before she met him, but elects not to further defy his Captain. Not out of respect, but because he knows her well enough to understand when she won’t budge on a decision.

“Cariyen, Liamu, Farris and Auri.” Asha calls again. “I want you with me on a rowboat. Snezz, you have command of the ship. Bring us in, but stay out of visual range.” “Aye.” Snezz says, and makes his way to the wheel. One of their deckhands is already pushing in a crate for him to stand on, while another two begin lowering the rowboat. Asha steps forward, her striketeam in tow. Her eyes narrow as she gazes at the lights.

There’s a tense silence among the rowboat’s passengers, as it approaches the Krait Deeps. Asha sits in front, staring on ahead, while the two Charr, Farris and her mother Auri are busy rowing behind her. Cariyen, the Sylvari is behind them, carrying a magical light in her hands to illuminate their immediate vicinity. At the back end of the boat sits Liamu, the tiny asuran necromancer, currently in the process of summoning a selection of horrors to aid in the fight to come.

“Cariyen.” Asha says, and the Sylvari snuffs out her light. She looks up, now much closer to the lights she’d spotted and feels oddly nostalgic, reminded of the glowing pods in the Pale Tree’s boughs she used to look upon from below. But that is where the similarities end. The closer the rowboat gets to the Deeps, the more the area’s eeriness is replaced by horror. Pained cries pierce the silence, the sound of whips and hateful voices taunting. Farris’ upper lip pulls back in a snarl.

“Get ready.” Asha order in a hushed whisper and draws her rifle. A splashing sound briefly draws her attention, but it’s just Liamu’s minions jumping overboard and swimming ahead. The group holds their breath and listens. Minutes go by, and Asha’s gaze rests on Liamu’s face.

The little woman has her eyes closed, and an expression of deep concentration on her features. “Twenty, maybe more.” She reports. “There will be many under the surface. I am drawing their attention to my minions.” “Cause some chaos.” Asha orders. “Once they’re busy with your little friends, we jump into the fray.” Liamu nods, digging a tooth into her lower lip, as she coordinates several individual undead at once.

An angry hiss sounds, then a battle cry and a cacophony of combat noises breaks loose. Asha stands up in the boat. “Auri, element of surprise.” The Mesmer nods and hands her oar to Farris. The air distorts around the boat as she raises her hands, channeling her magic, cloaking the group in a veil of invisibility. “Let’s give ‘em hell.” Asha growls and steps off the boat, just as it comes to a stop on the Deeps’ surface gangplanks.

The rest of the team follows her, Cariyen leaving last and pulling the boat onto the wooden planks. They stick close together, watching Liamu’s minions maiming and being maimed by their serpent enemies. Asha assumes a crouching position and levels her rifle on the largest Krait she can see, aiming directly for his head. When her shot rings out, her invisibility falls off her in a flash of purple magic. A barrage of bright blue arrows arches over her head and comes down on the Krait with the fury of a god. The group swarms out from behind their Captain. Cariyen seeks high ground, while raining her magical arrows down on the enemy. A cloud of toxic locusts ascends the tower, gathering around the heads of a group of Krait that were about to come to their brethren’s aid. Shrill cries fill the air, broken up and distorted by time itself warping and twisting from Aurelia Sharpwit’s shield. Clockhands made of ethereal light spin in reverse, rewinding the Krait into their previous positions, opening them up to attack. That attack being a jet of fire from the mouth of Farris’ flamethrower. Those that do not immediately die, shriek and try to slither away, into the water, but Auri’s magic freezes them in motion and her daughter’s flames consume them entirely.

While the battle on the central platform rages, Asha makes her way upward, rifle at the ready. The prisoners are all in the upper levels of the tower, locked up in crude cages. There are some stragglers in her way, most of which she can dispatch at range, or punt off the ledge with the butt of her rifle.

“Help! Please! Please help Quaggan!” cries a prisoner as Asha approaches the first set of cages. They’re unguarded, as most of the Krait are currently down, fighting her crew. Only one of them has movement inside, a little quaggan, all alone. Left and right are only putrefying corpses, picked at by birds. Asha rushes over, pulling her crowbar out of her backpack, and getting to work on levering the cage open. “Don’tcha worry. That’s why we’re here.” She assures the prisoner inside. The poor quaggan is beaten and bruised, and holding one of its hands close to its chest, clearly broken. It takes her some elbow grease, but Asha manages to wedge the doors open, and the quaggan limps out, fearfully looking up at its savior.

“It’s okay. Stick with me. My friends are distracting the Krait.” Asha explains. “I’m going further up. There’s more prisoners there.” “Quaggan will follow you.” They reply. “Too wounded. Nowhere else to go.” “I’ve got a ship. We’ll patch you up and take you home.” Asha promises as she moves on up, mindful to reduce her speed, so the quaggan can keep up with her.

Another voice addresses her as soon as she comes in view of the next set of cages, one platform up. “Hey, you! Let me out right now!” demands an Asura, with enough spirit in her to rattle at her cage’s bars. She wears black and red, tattered, but still very much recognizable as Inquest. Asha pauses, but shakes her head and jogs over to her, then gets to work on the door. “How’d someone like you end up so far from Maguuma?” she asks while she works, and the Asura huffs and puffs for a moment before responding. “We were on our way to Orr. That’s all I’m classified to tell you.” “You the only survivor?” Asha inquires, and the door creaks open under her assault with the crowbar. “I think so. I haven’t seen any of my krewemates.” The Asura steps out of the cage and Asha positions herself protectively between her and the quaggan. “Great. Well, I saved you, which means you owe me. So keep your mouth shut while I free the other prisoners and we all get to go home alive.” She states and moves on the next cage. Inside is a humanoid creature Asha cannot discern. They’re blue, but clearly breathing, clad in a full-face mask and adorned with a pair of luminescent wings.

“She’s put up a good fight.” The Asura comments. “And the Krait pressured her tenfold for that.” “She’s alive, though.” Asha says and gets to work on the door. “That��s enough for me.” “Quaggan knows her.” The quaggan adds. “She got captured near Quaggan’s home.” “When?” Asha asks. “Quaggan does not remember.”

“They were here when I was locked up. So, more than a week ago.” The Asura contributes. “Hey, do you have a ship or something? I’m not a good swimmer.” “I do. She’s circling the Deeps just outside of view.” Asha responds and gets the door open. She casts her crowbar aside and crouches down to inspect the creature. She looks horrible. There are deep gashes all over her arms and back, likely caused by bladed whips. Her wings have holes and the left one’s main bone is completely shattered, as if intentionally crushed. Under the creature’s heavily damaged armor, Asha gets a glimpse of greenish black flesh, an ugly infection, or a necrotic curse. She presses two fingers against the creature’s neck, feeling a slow, but steady pulse. Relying entirely on the mechanical exoskeleton around her left arm, Asha lifts the creature up and takes her out of the cage.

The rest of her team is luckily just ascending the planks. “Ah, good. We’ve got wounded.” Asha says and hands the creature over to Cariyen. “You and the Quaggan can go back to the boat and row over to the Chimaera. Tell Snezz to bring ‘er in, then take care of these two. Be ready for more wounded. The rest of you, spread out and gather any survivors on the central platform. Me and my new friend here will establish a perimeter.”

While she speaks, Asha pulls one of her pistols from her belt and hands it to the Asura she freed. “Don’t try anything funny. You’re outnumbered.” She hisses to her as she passes. “C’mon.”

Cariyen, and the Quaggan accompany them down to the platform, before getting on the boat. “I will see you soon, Captain. Be safe.” The Sylvari says, before grabbing the oars and starting to make her way back to the ship. “You too.” Asha calls after her, then turns back to the Asura.

“What a massacre.” She comments, as she steps over the piled up Krait bodies, burned, pierced and rotted away by Liamu’s magic. “They deserve worse.” Asha simply justifies. “You don’t look too hurt.” “I’m not.” The Asura admits. “They were too busy beating the living daylights out of my neighbor. I thought I could use that to slip away, but… Where would I go?” “Fair.” Asha says. “You got a name?”

The Asura hesitates visibly. “It’s Mhido.”

It took a good twenty minutes to reach the ship, but once she is back on the Chimaera, with Asha’s command passed on to Snezz, Cariyen has time to care for the wounded. She already cast a mild regeneration spell on the quaggan’s superficial wounds while on her way back. “Let me see your hand.” She asks, and the small creature shyly extends their arm to her. It causes them obvious pain, so Cariyen already has a numbing spell ready on her fingertips when she makes skin contact. The bone is, thankfully, cleanly broken. Cariyen closes her eyes, gently nudging the bone back into its regular place, and funnels healing into the quaggan’s body. Both bone fragments slowly connect again, a fragile connection, but with time and care, the injury would mend fully. She puts the arm in a splint and wraps it in a bandage for good measure.

Then, she turns to the unconscious creature. Her hands brush lightly over her whip marks, closing the open wounds and rejuvenating her body’s natural regenerative powers. Likely awakened by that energy, the creature jolts and grabs Cariyen by the wrist. “Where am I?” she asks in a sharp, heavily accented voice, attempting to sound menacing, but her fear shimmers through. “Be at ease.” Cariyen soothes. “You are safe. We attacked the Krait Deeps you were held in and rescued you. You are badly injured. Will you let me mend you?” A few seconds pass, and the creature’s grip loosens. “You defeated the Krait?” “Not alone. My crew and I did.” Cariyen responds and gently frees her hand from the creature’s. “I have to set your bones straight before I can mend them. This will hurt.” “Do not hold back. I can endure.” The creature says and Cariyen gets to work on the mangled wing. It is entirely limp, and the creature is likely unable to move it at all. One by one, Cariyen reconstructs the shattered bone, making her way from the base to the tip of the limb. The entire time, the creature is completely silent, only the odd, sharp inhale hinting that she feels pain. “What were you seeking among the Krait?” she eventually asks, while Cariyen begins mending the wing. “Their victims. We saw the lights from afar and decided to intervene.” The Sylvari explains. “In exchange for what?”

Cariyen pauses and looks up at the creature’s mask. “We did not do this for a reward.” She states and the creature falls silent again, in quiet contemplation of what altruism might be.

The sounds of a second rowboat being returned to the ship has Cariyen looking up. The Inquest Asura, Farris and a number of freed prisoners step onto the deck, in varying degrees on injury and weariness. There is more work to do.

#gw2 #guild wars 2 #my writing #gw2 fanfiction #tyriaslibrary

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legendary-assassin-stance · 4 years ago

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The door to his office slammed open, and Bryok’s fingers clenched slightly around the quill he’d been writing with, feathers bristling at the aura of dejectedness that suddenly invaded his space. Cat-like golden eyes glanced up from the reports spread out haphazardly on his desk that he was currently reviewing, blinking in surprise at how… haggard Myrr looked, standing in the doorway. “Is something the matter?” he asked, unable to keep the curiosity from mingling with the concern in his voice. It wasn’t often that Myrr actively went out of his way to seek him out, especially looking as worse-for-wear as he was.

The sniper said nothing, as Bryok expected, and merely kicked the door shut as he moved to collapse down onto the small couch that occupied the wall to the necromancer’s right. Knowing that he wouldn’t be able to focus on his work now, Bryok hummed lightly and set the quill down before pushing himself to his feet.

“Anything to drink?” Bryok offered, glancing towards the oaken liquor cabinet in the corner that he had recently restocked; it wasn’t very often that he indulged in the drinks stored there, but he had a feeling that it was going to be one of those days.

“No.” The tips of Bryok’s ears twitched slightly at the monotonous, blank tone from Myrr, and he turned to look at the other over his shoulder. The assassin had settled himself into a seated position, elbows rested on his knees, and had his chin resting on his clasped hands as he stared down at the floor as if the wood there could solve all his problems. It was concerning enough that there had been no sass nor irritable snapping as a response to his question -- the fact that Myrr declined a drink was downright worrying on top of it all.

Bryok moved towards the couch, talons clicking gently against the wooden floors, and sat down, brushing his shoulder lightly with the other’s. “What’s the matter?” he asked, knowing that it was a toss-up if Myrr actually responded to him, or if he’d just continue to sit there in his brooding silence. It was… difficult to help the sniper when he needed it most, if not outright frustrating because of Myrr’s stubbornness in general, but Bryok persisted nonetheless.

When a minute passed with no response, the necromancer merely breathed out a light, resigned sigh and shifted to lean himself against Myrr more heavily; not enough to be stifling, but more than enough to make it known that he wasn’t going to get up and walk away until Myrr wanted him to. Bryok had spent months figuring out how to handle the prickly, irritable sniper, slowly getting Myrr to be more open around him, and he liked to think that they’d managed some sort of camaraderie because of it.

“Does Cerise even tolerate my presence?”

Bryok startled slightly at the sudden question, glancing at Myrr out of the corner of his eye, who still hadn’t moved despite the slight relaxation against Bryok’s weighted form. Coming from him of all people, the question was an odd one, considering that the sniper was one of Cerise’s ‘favorites,’ having taken Bryok’s spot ever since the Duchess had returned from the Heart of Maguuma.

It was a miracle in itself that Myrr was talking -- usually these sessions were spent in silence, until Myrr simply got up and left after an hour or so.

“What makes you feel that she doesn’t?”

“I spend more time away from the camp on missions than I ever do actually being here. Every time she summons me, it’s to send me out again, and the resting periods between these have been… nonexistent lately. The moment I step foot back into our territory, it seems like she turns me out again for something else that has cropped up in my previous absence.”

That would explain how exhausted Myrr looked, at least. And what he was describing, Bryok had also noticed; no one in the camp was able to relax lately, but the higher on the social ladder you got, the more responsibility was hoisted onto one’s shoulders, which meant double the stress at all hours of the day.

“Every time I try to approach her about something, she brushes me off,” Myrr continued, frustration finally bleeding into his tone, “She’s either too busy, or just outright doesn’t care a lot of the time. It seems like she keeps me around simply because she deems me useful in some manner, and nothing else.”

“And are you useful?”

“I would assume so, considering my rank.”

“So if she didn’t tolerate you, nor find you useful, do you think you’d still have that rank?”

“Just because I’m useful doesn’t translate into her finding me tolerable, and we both know this.”

Bryok huffed slightly, unable to argue the sniper’s point. Cerise had… definitely changed from what Bryok had known of her. And it was not for the better. Turning his head just a smidgen, Bryok nuzzled against Myrr’s jaw, feeling him slump against his side, some of the tense, high-strung energy bleeding away at the contact.

“I wouldn’t take Cerise’s lack of attention personally, dearest,” the necromancer murmured affectionately, chuckling gently in amusement at the low, halfhearted growl he got in response -- in fact, Bryok was grateful that Cerise seemed too occupied with worldly matters to torment Myrr on both a physical and emotional level, but he knew better than to say that around the sniper; Myrr was, unfortunately, wrapped around Cerise’s finger, and it grated Bryok’s nerves something fierce. “Especially not with how she’s been lately. I have not been spared from her cold shoulder and snappishly to-the-point attitude; I feel like we’re… all a little stressed, what with this whole Kralkatorrik business going on in Jahai Bluffs.” His feathers bristled up in agitation at the mere mention of the Elder Dragon, and he exhaled slowly to smooth them down again. “Something bad is going to happen. We all know it. It’s just a matter of ‘what’ and ‘when’ at this point.”

Myrr fell silent for a few moments as he mulled that over before he grumbled, leaning his head against Bryok’s and letting his eyes drift shut. “Sooner rather than later at this rate, I feel.”

“Possibly. But we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Bryok responded, and the both of them lapsed into a comfortable, gentle silence as the muted sounds of rainfall started to patter down on the rooftop.

#guild wars 2 #gw2 #gw2 fanfic #gw2 fanfiction #tyriaslibrary #writing #journal scribblings of a lost soul #oc: bryok #other characters #NMC Era #long post #HI HELLO i love these two a lot #the entirety of the nmc era is bryok internally screaming at myrr that cerise is a bitch who is just using him :')#but also trying to be Supportive and also not.... push myrr away by being obtuse about his hatred for their duchess HFDSHGFDH

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akurathereaper · 5 years ago

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State of my Tyria

What happened to Nightmare court (post 1328 AE)

After Mordy died, what basically happened was a power vacuum. Faolain was killed, Cadeyrn is MIA, most of the high ranking Courtiers have fallen into mordremhood, leaving the weak legions alone in Tyria.

The few barons and counts and countesses and baronesses and such have fought over the position of Grand Duke/Duchess, and as such, have split into many, many smaller camps of tiny nightmares.

The organised camps you see in Tyria are still present, but they do not communicate with one another, and see their neighbours as enemies, to be exterminated, and do not hesitate to wipe their camps and take their prisoners to convert them to their idea of Nightmare.

Since that has happened, the threat of the court has lessened AND greatened (is that a word?) at the same time. They didn’t have enough manpower to attack the Grove, but as such, they have to settle for buying slaves, kidnapping sylvari from smaller villages, the Soundless have gotten even MORE endangered now, and the raids are more prevalent than before, as the camps are desperately trying to restock on manpower.

Since that has been happening, one of the Commanders, Akura, has decided he will start funding more protection and make sure all villages are either relocated to a more safer location or are properly protected by trained Wardens, instead of the volunteers with makeshift weapons and armour.

He wanted to make sure all that shizz was really happening, so he left most of the commandeering to his partner in crime, Chaton, the other Commander, until they call for him for all the major events (PoF, Joko -which was a real shitshow lemme tell ya- , Kralkatorrik and now the whole Jormag shishkabang)

When he wasn’t busy with that, however, he had hundreds of sylvari being taught how to defend themselves and relocated them around the whole eastern maguuma, to every sylvari village, and if that village was basically undefendable, he told the residents to relocate.

That (obviously) was met with disdain and grumpy shouts of “Hey, we wanna stay in our original home!” to which the answer was “Do you wanna die by their hand, or do you wanna live somewhere where it’s safe?”, but he made sure they were properly supported and helped to get their bussiness back up and running (since Akura has money he mostly never uses, he just shoved it all into that).

Of course, as that was happening, there was a big danger of the moving residents being attacked, kidnapped, and enslaved, and in the beginning stages there wasn’t enough manpower to go around, so such things did come to pass. In one such accident, Eiladhur, a Warden that guarded a recluse village in Caledon, where his lover resided, was met with grief as he saw first hand how cruel desperate courtiers can be. Almost the whole party was decimated, the weakest kidnapped, and Eiladhur’s lover killed, leaving him and few survivors be met with the harsh reality of when help comes too late. As their support has arrived just one day after the attack.

While these accidents weren’t common, they made enough people dislike Akura, just for the fact his actions caused their loved ones and families to be kidnapped and/or killed. His reputation of a hero and a saviour was tarnished, but he didn’t mind as long as most were safe. Because when he was sure that villagers weren’t in danger, he moved the best warriors (and those who volunteered after they got sufficient training) to go and erase the courtier camps off the maps, even taking part in some of the raids.

As that was happening, the Courtiers now have realized that if they don’t do something, the Commander is going to kill every single nightmare courtier and he won’t stop at nothing, and so

Their answer to Akura’s action is that they are starting to band together, it’s not a democratic voting, oh no, only the strongest among them will get to the top, and they will have a bunch of revenge drooling bastards by their side, ready to take on the Commander and pay back what they owe.

Until I get news of how NC is doing, I’ll keep making shit like this up, soooo

#gw2 #writing #this is a bit long but I wrote this after I talked to myself for half an hour about this #like #how would nc be after mordy #did we get any news about them?#no?#well imma make some up!

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magisterlys · 5 years ago

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Ice Weakens

Written Cross the Stars: Chapter 4

Summary:

Jora's Keep is in an uproar as more norn men betray them, stealing away a group of Vigil in the night. The beleaguered commander leads a team to the Ravenfrost Caverns where she'll confront more than just icebrood. Good thing Braham is there.

It just never stopped.

The headaches, the heartaches; the guilt and the choices. It was hard enough to carry the world when you were in your right mind but the longer Lys spent in the Marches the more certain she became that she no longer was.

The whispers never stopped. Brief reprieves to remind her what silence was like, and then the insinuations began again. It wasn’t so bad at first, she was well used to an abusive inner dialogue. It was the tricks and compulsions, the thoughts that were not hers that were the worst to deal with. The hardest part was pretending it was all okay, being the strong one. Being The Commander.

She found moments of peace up here, high above the treetops. The sound of the wind whistling past her ears as her griffon, Morrigna, played in the air drove the whispers away for a time. She claimed these morning flights were scouting, but everyone knew she just needed some time.

Morrigna tucked her ebon feathered wings and dove for the ground, brushing the treetops and then using her momentum to swoop back up. The wind whipping past her face was biting cold but Lys welcomed the cold for once: it was silent. Her head still throbbed, but she was used to that. She held tight to the saddle, let the griffon soar where she pleased and took the chance to enjoy the view. There was a cold beauty to Bjora Marches from this height, the svanir camps and the shattered Bear shrine below like festering wounds on the snowy jewel of the landscape. Off to the west, the dagger-sharp beauty of Aesgir’s Legacy was shrouded in low hanging storm clouds, a roiling threat on the horizon.

“Commander.” Jory’s voice over the coms startled her, “I’m sorry to interrupt your scouting flight but we could use you at the keep.”

“What’s going on?” A subtle pressure from her right knee and a shift in her weight were all that was required for Morrigna to understand her request. The corvid griffin banked hard to the left, gaining speed with a mighty flap of her wings as the walls of Jora’s Keep rose ahead. “ … Jory?”

The coms opened again to a sharp background noise of raised voices and this time it was Jhavi who responded, “Just get here, please.”

As if she sensed the urgency Morrigna dove hard, pulling up just short of the ground and then rocked back toward the sky, covering the remaining distance in a handful of heartbeats. The pair crested the walls to find a large crowd gathered in the courtyard. The griffon barely had time to tuck her wings back to her side as they landed before people began to press the commander.

“I told you this would happen again!” A woman yelled, to the agreement of several others. “Of course it happened again.” A second answered. “We’ve said it would from the start.”

Lys dismounted neatly and the griffon took wing, sailing up to land on the roof above and keep a sharp eye on things. “Alright, slow down. What’s going on?” A dozen voices all tried to answer at once. She held out her hands, gesturing for quiet and restated her question, “Jhavi. What’s going on?

“We have more missing, Commander. Jory and Braham are - “

The barracks door opened and Jory stepped out, interrupting Jhavi’s response, “There are five by my count.” She gave the commander a nod of greeting as she continued, “All Vigil. Two humans, an asura, sylvari, and a norn woman. Their beds are slept in, but empty.”

“You can add two more to that,” Braham announced as he came down the mess hall steps. He looked nervous, Lys noticed, or … frustrated. “Kruve Grellson and Isvar Axebreaker. No one’s seen them since dinner last night.”

There was an immediate reaction from the crowd, voices raised and a fearful shuffling. “They’ve betrayed us again!” A dark-haired man from the back called out, “Why aren’t we watching the norn men?” another wondered none too quietly. Some physically moved away from norn they were standing near.

“Their bonds are fragile. Such cowards …”

There was nothing more unsettling than finding yourself agreeing with the whispers hissing in your head. She’d been here before, standing in the jungles of Maguuma with the Pact in flames around her. The voices raised against the norn sounded eerily similar to those raised against the sylvari. She’d be damned if she’d see this all play out again.

“Let’s make something clear here.” Lys didn’t raise her voice but she had a well-honed skill for speaking so clearly, so confidently that people reacted as if she had. The look she threw around the gathered probably also helped. “Norn are no more susceptible to Jormag’s machinations than any of the rest of us, and this divisive fear-mongering is exactly what that dragon wants. We’re all Pact. We’re in this together.” She turned toward Braham, leaving no room for argument, “What do we know?”

Braham had crossed his arms over his broad chest, shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “You’ve already guessed that Kruve and Isvar are norn. They were in the common room till late, drinking and keeping to themselves. Talk says they were seen a couple days ago heading southwest like they were on patrol, but neither of them was on duty.”

“Southwest?” Lys cast a quick side glance at Jory, “Toward the caverns?”

Braham nodded, “Yeah, their unit wasn’t heading out until nightfall and they were supposed to be doing rounds near Bear’s shrine. So there was … some gossip.”

She knew what he meant. Several people had been keeping ‘inventory’ on norn in the keep. That those people didn’t see fit to bring this concern to their superiors was … worrying.

“You are losing control.”

The commander turned toward Jory, “Do the other missing have anything in common?”

“Nothing on first inspection, Commander.” Jory responded with a tilt of her head, “Other than all being Vigil, they were on different rotations, shared no similar backgrounds. Their bunks are not even near each other.”

“Commander!” A small voice interjected from the crowd and an asura elbowed his way through, trying to be seen. “Commander!”

She recognized him, he’d been part of a squad that helped clear out a prison camp a while ago. “What is it, Mokk?”

“Please, Commander.” Mokk had finally made his way through the crowd and now stood in front of Lys where she could see the desperation on his face, “They’ve taken Zarri.”

“ Another broken heart, another lost. You should save him from his pain … ”

Lys shook her head as if the dragon buzzing in her ear was a bothersome gnat. Zarri must be the asura Jory mentioned then. “We’re going after them, Mokk. I promise.” They had to move quickly if there was any hope of bringing people back. “Jory. Take Captain Jawspire and a group to the svanir camps. Don’t assume that the missing norn have betrayed us, but … be careful. Braham and I will lead a group southeast toward the caverns.”

“You sure that’s smart, Commander?” The same dark-haired man who had spoken up earlier did so again. “Taking a norn, much less Vowbreaker, along with you I mean.”

Lys didn’t have to look at Braham to sense his spike of anger, it matched her own. Such needling wouldn't normally get to her, but after days of little sleep, under relentless assault, she was tired, stretched thin. She stared at the man, “There are few people in the world I trust more than Braham. And his name is not … Vowbreaker.” She spit the word out as if it tasted sour, “Is that understood?”

The commander’s tone left nothing open for discussion. The man simply nodded, throwing glares at a few snickers from nearby.

“That one will continue to sow discontent. Kill him.”

Lys flenched, unable to completely hide her reaction to that one. She recovered quickly and was glad that the snickers were drawing attention away from her enough that no one seemed to have noticed. She sensed something behind her though and looked over her shoulder to find that Braham had quietly drawn nearer. He was frowning, giving her that concerned look that always made her pause. Damn him for watching her so closely. She gave him a subtle shake of her head, a silent communication between them as he touched her arm, fleetingly.

“I’ll take a third group west toward the forest,” Jhavi stated, blessedly seeming not to notice the exchange.

Lys was happy for the change of subject. “We need you to stay here, Jhavi.”

Jhavi blinked, her tone incredulous, “These are my people, Commander. I can’t just sit by.”

“These are your people.” Lys agreed, nodding toward the gathered crowd, “And they need you to lead them. There’s a very real chance that the intention here is to divide us. You need to be in command here, in the Keep.”

“... we’ll hold the line.” Jhavi begrudgingly agreed.

“Commander.” Mokk spoke up, “I’m coming with you.”

Lys considered the asura with a frown, looking down at him. She wasn’t sure he was up for a mission like this but she’d been where he was right now; knew the gnawing, desperate, neutered terror he was feeling. She couldn’t make him stay behind. “Of course, Mokk.”

-----------------------------------------------------------

Braham and Jasper took point, the norn and the bear working to break a path through the freshly fallen snow for the group behind them. Aside from Mokk the commander picked Lessandro and his group to accompany them. If the Svanir were recreating the ritual they’d interrupted before, having people who wouldn’t need to overcome the initial shock and revulsion would be a benefit. Altogether there were two norn, four humans, an asura, and a bear making their way south toward the Ravenfrost Caverns.

“Commander, we got tracks.” Braham stopped and Lys made her way forward, pausing to brush the snow from Jasper’s head as she neared. Their path had indeed intersected with someone else's.

“Several hours old, would you say?” She looked up at Braham.

“Yeah.” He agreed, “It’s been light snow, but last night was all wind. They’d have been covered if they were any older. Looks like a big group too.”

“Right. Let’s follow it then.” The commander started to turn toward the rest of the group to give orders but she saw something out of the corner of her eye and stopped. A flash of blue. Movement.

“They are here to greet you.”

“Eyes up!” She called out, reaching for her bow just as the first of a half dozen Svanir stepped through the trees. There was a moment of stillness as each side took stock of the other, the expectant pause before the battle erupted with force. She felt Braham brush her shoulder as he spun to cover her flank and Jasper gave an angry roar as he bounded over the snowbank, charging straight for the nearest svanir. Lys sent an arrow streaking ahead of her bear. It stuck the svanir in the shoulder. He let out a guttural bellow of anger and didn’t notice the massive clawed paw heading toward his face until it was too late. Leaving her pet to do the work Lys spun quickly to her left, sending a rapid hail of arrows toward the enemies engaged with Lessandro, Mokk and the others. Two svanir already lay dead in the snow and based on the wet sounds and growls Jasper just added a third to the count.

A sharp metallic crack rang out behind her and Lys spun around to see Braham recoiling from a blow to his shield. She braced herself, leaning into his back and kept him from losing his footing as he slid backward in the snow. The svanir he’d been engaged with took the opening and suddenly turned, bolting off toward the caverns

Braham growled, righted himself and charged right after him, calling over his shoulder “He’s going to raise the alarm!”

“Braham, wait! Don’t -” Lys yelled after him.

“Follow him! If you hope to ever see him again.”

She felt her blood run ice cold, watching Braham disappear into the trees. She had to follow him.

“You can’t let him go alone again.”

Behind her, there was still a battle to be fought. The sound of Jasper’s paws on snow as he raced to join the fray, the crackle of the Elementalist's magics, the sharp cry of someone tumbling over into the snow. Growling with frustration she turned away from Braham’s fleeting form and loosed an arrow at the most beleaguered of the three remaining svanir, sending it through his neck. He crumpled like a wet sack. Mokk gave a yell of anger and dodged behind another, slicing the towering svanir in the back of the knee.

“Will you be able to live with yourself when he dies?”

“Stuff it, dragon!” Lys yelled to seemingly no one, taking advantage of the opening Mokk created to help him finish off his adversary. The remaining two went down under the assault of the vigil members and finally, the woods fell silent. “Everyone in one piece?” Lys asked.

“I believe so, Commander,” Lessandro answered, helping Mokk back to his feet.

“Good.” The commander fairly snapped, poorly contained panic rising in her chest. “Quickly then, Braham is … being Braham.”

They pushed on, following Braham’s trail as the trees gave way to a rocky incline. The wind carried the sounds of combat, the sharp crack of metal on metal, grunts, and growls of exertion, the familiar hum of Braham’s magics and then a sickening, wet thud ...and silence.

“Too late.”

Lys took off, terror at her heels. She scrambled up the rock face, bounding from one ledge to the next until reaching the crest of the rise. Looking down into the small valley she saw the crumbled, shattered form of a svanir stained the snow with red and Braham standing over it, virtually unharmed. For now, she thought as she made her way down the hill, because she was going to kill him.

Braham looked up as commander neared, the rest of their party still a distance behind. “Sorry, Commander. I wasn’t fast enough.” He frowned, glanced over at the shimmering Raven barrier blocking the entrance to the caverns nearby. “The whole place knows we’re here now.”

She took a deep breath, then a few more. “Braham. That was … I’m glad you’re alright.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish, “I did kinda run off again didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you did.” Everyone else had caught up, so she left it at that. She wasn’t fully in control of her emotions, couldn’t tell which were hers and which were prompted by Jormag’s taunts but either way, here and now wasn’t the time to let her weakness get the better of her.

“They’ve got the barrier back up …” Observed one of Lessandro’s group, a dark-haired Raven shamaness. Inge, if the commander remembered her name right.

“We can assume they’re up to no good, then.” Lys agreed, turning to give orders. “I’ll use the lens to lower the barrier. Once we’re in, stick together. No matter what you hear or what you think you see, we move as one. Understood?” She looked pointedly at Braham.

“I’m - we’re at your side, Commander.” Braham nodded, echoed by the others.

According to old maps, these caves had once been an open natural passage from the southern mountains to what was now the Aberrant Forest, but with the awakening of Jormag, they had grown into an ever-shifting maze of ice. The entrance was cavernous, jagged icicles loomed high overhead like impending teeth. The walls and floors were solid ice, some natural but most formed of unnaturally dark corrupted ice, teeming with Jormag’s magic. It seemed almost to move, bent the light in unsettling ways. The effect on such a large space was disorienting. Sound too echoed oddly, they could hear voices and rustling, the resonating thrum of magic but it seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. Lys took the lead, she remembered clearly where the central cavern was, but she kept her pace careful. When walking into a trap it was a bad idea to rush.

“Welcome, Commander!” A voice suddenly boomed seemingly from overhead. It sent all of them reaching for their weapons, searching for the origin. No one was there. “You are not Jorasdottir, but Dragon welcomes you anyway.”

Braham had moved ahead of the commander, giving her a clear view of the anger on his face, “Isvar, I’d guess. Sounds like him.”

“Oh!” The voice replied with a hearty laugh, “And you’ve brought Vowbreaker with you. Of course, he’s always hiding behind your skirts. Good, Dragon has a special place for him.”

“Don’t listen to him, Braham.” Lys spoke encouragingly under her breath, “... you know I never wear skirts.”

Braham glanced at her, blinking several times before breaking into a slow grin. “Shall we bash some svanir heads, Commander?”

“We should politely request our people back, yes.” She nodded once, turned to the rest of the group behind her. “Shall we show them how the Vigil responds to traitors?”

Lys lead them forward, up a winding incline that doubled back on itself several times until they reached the main room. As they neared she signaled their silence, stopping near the last bend in the path. Ahead they could see three figures each lashed to an upright post at equal intervals, just like the ritual she and Jory had interrupted before. A half dozen svanir and one massive icebrood moved between the captives and a totem-shaped ice formation that glowed with a sickly green light. Sounds of movement and chanting out of sight left an accurate count of what they were up against as a guess at best.

“Tell me, Commander.” The taunting voice resonated just as before, this time it was coming from the side of the room they were unable to see. “Have you borne any sons?”

Braham looked over at her, brow arched in confusion.

Lys sneered. She’d heard this svanir taunt before. The next implication would be that as a woman her only usefulness was birthing sons, and since she hadn’t, she was less than useless. She wouldn’t give him the pleasure of following along. “I have not, Isvar. But I have seen the svanir transformation ritual firsthand. The pain will be unbearable, and in the end, you will be nothing more than that grunting monstrosity next to you.” She paused, letting her words sink in. She heard whispers, Isvar was arguing with someone. “Did Jormag not tell you that? You will lose yourself under a torrent of ceaseless pain. You will be nothing more than an empty husk that will shatter against Pact steel before the end of the week.”

“Silence!” The voice was sharp with anger, “Dragon’s gift is one we gladly accept. Better that than to rot in fear hiding behind cowards! You know nothing of what struggle so uselessly against.”

Lys ignored the tirade, using the chance to slip forward enough to confirm her memory of the cavern. There was a small ledge on the south side, accessed by a branch in the path farther back. She gestured to the group, indicating they should stay where they were and adjusted the grip on her bow. She looked at Braham, nodding toward the room and made a talking gesture with her fingers. A nod from him confirmed he understood what she meant - keep the hot head talking and distracted. Jasper turned to follow her but she shook her head, gave him a scratch on his cheek.

“Who are you hiding behind now, Axebreaker?” Braham’s taunted as Lys slipped away, “Cause looks to me like it’s two women and an asura. Why don’t you step out and face me like a man? Find out how strong you really are.”

That seemed to hit a button, based on the roaring response that carried down to Lys as she found the side passage she remembered and began picking her away along the precarious edge, keeping tight to the shadows. Reaching the end, she got a clear view of the room below. There were ten svanir, along with the hulking icebrood that she’d glimpsed from the entrance. Isvar was standing in the center of the room along with another norn who she assumed was Kruve. Isvar was doing all the talking, but it was the other norn that seemed to be communicating with the svanir, aiding them in whatever it was they were preparing. She could see their missing as well, three tied to stakes and two worryingly crumpled forms in the far corner.

“You’ll leave a lasting legend as the hundredth brainless svanir to mess my boots this week, Isvar.” Braham was still doing an admirable job riling him, the attention of the whole group had shifted toward the argument.

The commander silently knocked an arrow, drew back her bow and slowed her breathing, her eyes following Isvar as he paced, waiting for the compromised norn to give her a clear shot.

“You think I’m afraid of a toothless, Vowbreaker? Come find me when you manage to become the wolf and we’ll -” His taunt was silenced by an arrow to his throat.

There was a moment of stunned silence as Isvar clutched his neck, eyes wide with panic and confusion as he gurgled his lifesblood. Kruve cried out and several svanir spun toward the hidden assailant, toward Lys, but that was the distraction needed as the rest of the party broke cover and rushed the room.

Braham lead the charge, heading straight for the biggest threat - the massive icebrood goliath. From her perch above Lys could see Lessandro and two others engaging with the svanir, while Mokk and Inge worked to free their people. A couple of well-placed arrows covered Mokk as he helped a limping Zarri back down the passage.

A svanir caster launched a torrent of ice at the ledge, forcing the commander to scramble backward and out of sight to avoid the jagged spikes of magic pummeling the ground. The attack ceased suddenly, accompanied by a bellow of pain and a sharp avian caw of anger. Taking position again Lys saw the shamaness in raven form engaging her previous attacker. She pulled another arrow from her quiver and intended to help but an all too painfully familiar bellow drew her attention sharply away.

Braham was down on one knee before the icebrood, blood pouring from a gaping wound in his shoulder down his now useless shield arm. The goliath loomed over him, maul of a fist raised over it’s head, poised to end the kneeling norn before he could find his feet.

Lys dropped her bow, letting it clatter forgotten to the ground as she reached for her staff. She focused on where she belonged in the natural order of things: standing between Braham and that icebrood. Nature corrected the mistake and suddenly she wasn’t on the ledge far above, she was a wisp of light, streaking forward to her proper place. The commander regained her form in a burst of healing starlight, leaves trailing in her wake as she rose to stand in front of Braham

“No!” She barked the command with such force that her next spell didn’t require a gesture. A wave of cosmic energy sent the icebrood sliding backward, giving her the opening she needed to help Braham to his feet. Her arrival method had healed the worst of his wounds, but he was still covered in blood.

There was no time for worrying though as the goliath had regained his senses and was quite angry. Braham nodded his thanks and stepped in front of the commander. She fell in behind him, wordlessly. They’d fought together for long, no words were needed. Even shieldless Braham charged forward, swinging his mace wide at the solid ice of the goliath's leg. He felt warmth on his back, like the comfort of a summer’s sun but while the commander’s magics were healing for him, the icebrood crackled with rage under the burning assault. He let the momentum of his swing bring the mace back toward the goliath's other leg and a sudden ursine form came barreling out from the side as Jasper took advantage. The goliath’s crystalline legs shattered, bringing it crashing to the ground as bear and norn worked to finish it off.

They’d won. Kruve and Isvar both lay dead among the svanir, the icebrood in pieces on the ground. Lys quickly took stock of her party. The shamaness’ feathers were stained with blood, but most of it didn’t seem to be hers. Everyone was on their feet … other than the two vigil forms in the corner. She felt a sickening dread as she approached them.

What had once been a human man and a sylvari woman lay in a broken heap, tossed to the side like so much trash. His head was matted with blood, features barely visible beneath the gore. The sylvari was twisted, her limbs at unnatural angles and her face … she’d died in great pain. Lys wanted to turn away from it, but she forced herself to look. To do them the honor of understanding how their lives ended.

“So much blood on your hands.”

She nodded. The sylvari had been a deep green, like Trahaerne. And now she was dead, so far from home. She’s left the embrace of the Pale Tree and died here in a cave in the middle of nowhere for … for what?

“For the Pact’s conceit. For you.”

The commander nodded again. All these people looked to her, counted on her. And what had she done to keep them safe?

“It’s your fault.”

“My fault …” She echoed quietly, her vision swimming as she looked down at the remains.

“Commander? You alright?” Lys gave a start, turning to find Braham standing next to her. He glanced down at the corpses with a pained expression.

“Yeah. Yeah, let’s …” The commander swallowed hard and finally turned away, “Let’s get our wounded back to the Keep. We’ll ... return for the fallen …”

Lessanto and Inge each took one of the survivors, with Mokk supported a dazed-looking Zarri as they began their descent. Lys lingered a moment, finally following the rest of the group but kept a distance away as they made their way back down the passage. Leaving almost hurt.

“… please, someone!” The commander stopped in her tracks. It was faint, distant, but someone was there. Calling for her. Without a word, forgetting even that there were others with her, Lys turned and followed the voice.

“Someone … anyone.” Whoever it was sounded young, their wavering voice caught with a sob that pierced the commander's heart. “I don’t want to go to the ice.”

“You’re not alone!” Lys called out, taking a sharp turn down a lower passage she’d walked by unnoticed before. The way was uneven, boulders of ice blocked her descent but she pushed on. “Keep talking, I’m trying to find you.”

“It’s here, it’s here! Commander, help me!” The little voice turned to panic. Lys was spurred on, half running, half sliding down a steep bank of ice as she yelled a response, “I’m here! I promise. Just hang on.” She’d lost all track of where she was, she couldn’t even see beyond the haze of shadows and flickers of light ahead of her but she couldn’t. She couldn’t lose another. She charged blindly forward. She had to find them before -

A strong hand wrapped around her arm jerked her backward. What … who? Lys spun around, lashed out wildly toward whoever had grabbed her.

The voice in need drowned out all sound, thrummed in her ears as if it was carried in her blood as it cried, “Don’t leave me, I don’t want to die!”

She lunged forward, broke free from her attacker and tried to run toward the voice but a pair of arms wrapped around her waist lifted her bodily from the ground. “Stop!” She yelled, desperately fighting to free herself, “I have to help them!”

“Commander, please!” Braham struggled with the flailing woman but managed finally to pin her arms to her side, clutching her against him. He’d barely caught sight of the Lys as she slipped away earlier. When he called out, she hadn’t answered and he knew instantly that something was wrong. He’d trailed frustratingly behind the quicker ranger, heard her yelling to no one as he tried to catch up. “Listen to me! There’s no one there.”

Lys continued to fight, kicking her feet up and off the wall. She sent Braham backward, smacking sharply against the solid side of the passageway.

“Commander! - Oof.” He grunted in pain but didn’t let go. “It’s me, it’s Braham. Stop fighting and listen! There’s no one there, it’s Jormag’s tricks.”

The commander stilled. The sobs and pleas still wrang in her ears, the walls around her loomed so large they pressed in her, blocked her sight. But Braham’s voice cut through.

“Please….” He lowered his voice, spoke into her ear as her thrashing stopped. “Stay with me, Lys.”

“I’m …” She started to speak but stopped in confusion as she heard her voice crack. “Where … what’s going on?”

Braham didn’t loosen his hold, but he did lower her back to the ground. “We’re still in the caverns. Whatever you think you’re hearing, Commander, it isn’t real.”

“I hear them though. They right there - I can’t …” Her vision was starting to clear, like when your eyes adjust to bright light, sparkles and specks as the haze of shadow dapples away, but the sobs and pleas still echoed around her. “I can’t let someone else die because of my failures. Not again, I … “

“Your … failures?” Braham blinked in confusion. “Who do you think you are? Me?” His hold on the commander shifted. He still didn’t trust her not to bolt but he was less clutching her and more embracing her now, his chin resting on her shoulder as he spoke. “You haven’t failed anyone, Commander. You have always done your best, no matter the cost or the odds and you know that. This isn’t like you. This is Jormag.”

Lys squeezed her eyes shut then opened them again, blinking rapidly as she saw where she was. They were standing in a narrow passage of ice, barely high enough for Braham to stand upright. Behind them the path rose sharply upwards and not fifty feet away, right where she had been so desperately running towards, it plummeted suddenly into darkness.

Braham followed her gaze toward the ledge, “Yeah … yeah, that’s why I’m not letting you go.”

“Braham, I’m ... “ She let out a shaking breath, wondered with a start how long she had been crying.

“Are you with me now? If I let you go you won’t bolt?” He turned to try to see her face. “Because if you leap off that ledge I’m jumping right after you.”

She couldn’t look at him. All she could manage was a nod. Her hands hurt and looking down she found them to be bleeding, covered in cuts from sharp ice she must have blindly climbed over. She couldn’t remember any of it. She felt weak, drained and above all deeply ashamed.

Braham turned, putting his back to the ledge and moving the commander to face the way back. He finally, reluctantly released her but laid his hands on her shoulders in a steadying gesture. A worried ursine grumble echoed off the walls and Lys looked up to see Jasper pacing at the top of the incline, trying to find a way down to her. Braham followed her gaze up and spoke gently, “Come on. Let’s get you back to the keep, it’s not just your bear that’s worried.”

#icebrood saga #braham/commander #braham eirrson #gw2 fanfiction #tyriaslibrary #lws5 spoilers #Fic: Written Cross the Stars

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whiskeyworen · 6 years ago

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Miriya’s Pad

(Art commissioned from CheruSake) Author’s Note: This was my first attempt at a Guild Wars 2 fic, just as an experiment. I was very satisfied with the outcome, but chronologically it predates ALL the other GW2 stories I’ve put out here. In fact, if you read any of my Danae sister fics, there’s references to THIS one. If it sounds kind of clunky in terms of dialogue and descriptions, I apologize; I was still getting my feet back under me in terms of writing. It’s a bit cliche, and pretty corny, but I felt it was a cute fic. I’m actually really nervous about sharing it here, cuz I don’t know if people will like it at all. In terms of in-game chronology, this would be Pre-Scarlet by only a few months. Lion’s Arch was still the ramshackle version we all miss. That said, please enjoy. ***** "...And our final stop on our tour of Rata Sum is my personal quarters!" Miriya announced brightly, as the magitek cubes that formed the doorway slid in the cardinal directions. The internal barrier field dropped immediately once the cubes had slid into the ceiling, walls and floor. She stepped proudly inside, hands on her hips and smiled. "It's...Wow! Surprisingly spacious!" Kaleb blinked as he stepped inside. The barrier popped back up behind him and the door-cubes shifted shut once more, cutting out the natural noise of the Maguuma Jungle outside. He looked around in amazement at the personal dwelling of his teammate. "From outside it looks so...small." Miriya smirked and crossed her arms. "That's because I had it carved into the side of the mountain and disguised that way." She scuffed her sharp nails on her coat, smugly admiring them. "That and a little bit of fifth dimensional pocket-space manipulation make it nice and big." The home was open-concept in the Asuran style, a cube turned on its corner and hollowed out, easily thirty meters on a side, which gave it an amazingly high ceiling and a strangely deep and terraced floor. Looking up, Kaleb could see a Mystic Stone the size of his entire body hovering just below the top corner of the ceiling, providing a soft, diffuse blue light. There were hard-light paths starting around the perimeter of the room, leading up to solid stone platforms held in place by mechanisms Kaleb could barely wrap his mind around. Each one had some kind of device or piece of furniture on it, though the purpose of some of them eluded him. To be honest, it looked less like a home and more like yet another Asuran laboratory. Turning his gaze from the ceiling to the floor, he counted fourteen terrace steps down to what appeared to be a pool of water in the centre of the room, occupying the 'bottom-most' corner of the building's turned cube design. Around the circumference of the room ran continuous Asura-design windows; high density force fields with a distortion added so those looking in or out can not see precisely what is there.

"It's um... very nice." He finally replied a bit hesitantly, stepping carefully in the room; each terrace was Asura-step scale, not human standard. If he tripped he'd no doubt fall all the way down into that pool of water in the bottom of the room. "So-o... this is where you keep your stuff? Kinda looks like another lab." "Well it IS a lab, silly." Miriya chuckled, crossing the room to a particular section of wall. A portion of the panels making up the wall and floor rotated at her approach, recombining to form a table and sink. Beside that, a cupboard slid into place from where the gaps were left by the panels, as well as a larger cube-shaped artifact half again as large as the diminutive Asura. "But it's also my home. I paid top-gold to get the constructor golem krewes to come out this far from Rata Sum and build it for me. All to my very demanding specifications." Kaleb nodded, exploring the room. He stepped up to one of the hardlight paths and experimentally tested it with an armoured toe. When it didn't give under his weight or the weight of his armour, he shook his head. Fancy Asuran gizmos. This was one of the reasons he was a soldier and not an engineer or inventor. "I see. So, why are we here now?" Miriya washed her hands in the sink, drying them in a device that clicked out of the side of the sink unit, and turned to face him. "We're here to relax and have a drink, and to be refreshed. Naturally." "Uh-huh?..." He crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow at her, a disbelieving look on his unshaven face. "If that's so then why's the rest of the group not here? Doesn't seem rightly fair to enjoy..luxury...without our friends." She made an exasperated sound, running her fingers back through her slicked back, molten lava-colored dreadlocks. With a flick of a wrist she sent the sink back into the wall, as well as the cupboard, but the larger artifact remained present in the room. Counting off on her little fingers, she explained. "One: Dhangalor is more interested in learning how to make his turrets and flame-thrower more efficient and effective. I wouldn't be surprised if we found him in three days, down in one of the weapons labs. Hopefully he won't learn how to make mass-conversion generation devices; The idea that he could make a device that spawns grenades for him or unlimited turrets scares me more than your god Grenth." Tick: "Second. The moment we walked into the city, Slane disappearred. I wouldn't know where him or his...ugh.... partner... are even if I put a tracker on him. Which I don't have, incidentally." She stepped over to the large artifact, touching a blue power gem on it. The panels on the artifact slid open to either side, revealling a chilly, frosty interior, from which she drew a large, dark green bottle. "Third. Corvus is Priory. He's all about knowledge and technology. If he's not aiding Dhangalor, he's buried up to his nose -- a feat at that! -- in computer files and parchments and datapads." The little Asuran necromancer spun on her heel, presenting her treasure to the still suspicious human. The bottle looked old, and had a label that bore a very particular seal on it. The label was torn slightly near the base, and very, VERY worn... but there was enough to recognize the maker. ---SCALO- V-NERY. est. ---- "...and finally Fourth: I've been saving this bottle to drink with a human some day, and I feel it's the right time now. I trust you enough to enjoy this bottle and not squander it, nor to act inappropriately with it. I know how rare it is, and I think you know how rare it is." His jaw dropped, as did his arms. "Ascalon Vinery?! Did that come from the ruins of Ascalon??" He laughed nervously, facepalming. "Second most rare wine in all of Tyria, and it's just sitting in her...her...whatever. That cold thing..." "It's called a ReFridgerator. Prototype design." She looked at the device with a bit of concern. "Most of the time it keeps things chilled. Though there was one time I left a panel open and....well.. I had to defrost the place. Like, 'Claw of Jormag' kinda defrost." Still shaking his head, Kaleb smiled, and ran a hand through his close-cropped red-black hair. "Alright. You got my attention. Ascalonian wine, and a relaxing evening with a friend. I can do that, easily." Miriya grinned, and put the bottle on the top of the fridge before walking across the room to a green square on one of the terraces. "Do you mind if I get comfortable? This armor is nice, but compared to my own clothes, I always find it confining and itchy." She stepped on the square and a series of panels slid up around her, covering her to the neckline. She continued talking as she changed, the sound of shifting cloth coming from behind the barriers. "It's such a relief to get off the road too. Sometimes I just want to come home, relax for a while, before my next project." "I understand the sentiment completely." Kaleb nodded, turning his back to her changing; even though she was completely hidden, he was still a gentleman. Even to Asura. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the muscles and bones creak a bit with tension. "Been a while since I've been home too. Or out of this gear." He stretched and shrugged. "Ah well. What can ya do?" The panels around her sliding down, Miriya stepped out of the 'booth' and straightened her tunic. "Well, what I CAN do is offer you the use of one of my guest booths to change. I'm sure I can cobble some basic clothing together from the info-net if you give me a few minutes." "You can do that?" He blinked, raising an eyebrow. Kaleb had no idea what an info-net was, but if he could just take his armour off for a few hours... "What do I need to do?" She pointed at the green square, tapping a nearby toe-button with her toe. The green square turned blue, and resumed flashing. "Just step on the square. I just turned the dimensions to 'human', so it'll cover more of you than it would have a moment ago." Kaleb stepped onto the square and waited for a second. The panels slid up again, this time up to HIS neck. There was just enough space inside for him to flex a bit. "Hey, this is neat, but... uh... can't exactly take my gear off in a space this small." "Don't worry about that. The booth does the dressing and undressing." She replied, a hard-light display open in front of her on the front of the booth. She flicked through diagrams and designs until she found a suitable one. "Ah here we go. Aaaannnndd..... ordered. Seven seconds delivery? What is this, the stone age??" "What?" "Oh, nothing. System seems slow, that's all." She shrugged and moved a new screen up in front of her. "Just one last thing; full body scan for fit accuracy. Otherwise when it goes to remove your gear, it might...uh...remove body parts instead. Not exactly a smart system." "WHAT?!" Kaleb started to fidget, staring around at the panels in horror. "Take it easy! I only have one scar from a mis-scan! I don't want you to lose anything important!" That was enough to get him to freeze solid, staring straight ahead. His adam's apple bobbed in fear as he swallowed heavily. Inside the booth, a panel flipped open on all four walls, revealling a golem-eye. Flat green light played out from these eyes, scanning Kaleb up to his neck, and down to the soles of his boots. There was a quiet 'ding' and the eyes flipped shut. Next, a set of waldo arms rose out of the floor, sliding along a series of control crystals built into the seams of the chamber, and unfolding when they reached certain predefined points. Magitechnical fingers and drivers unfolded from these waldoes, and set about removing his armour, piece by piece, carefully drawing each piece back into the floor. "Miriya.... This is weird..." Kaleb muttered uneasily as his armour appeared to be disintegrating around him. "Am I going to get my stuff back in one piece? This...thing won't like, mash it into a scrap cube or something will it?" "Oh don't be a big baby." She replied, watching the readouts. Everything was going as planned. The monitors indicated a rapidly increasing percentage of armour removal, leaving a rather bare looking Kaleb underneath. A smile quirked her mouth, and without saying a word, she flicked a toggle switch visibly with her right hand, while her left hand hooked under the display and pressed a small red button. For....posterity. Yeah, that's it. For study. She told herself, as a flash blinded Kaleb in the booth from all sides. "What was that?!" He asked worriedly, down to his boxer shorts within the booth. "Hmm? Oh nothing. Sensor glitch." She replied almost distractedly, as she copied the scan file into another section of her database, under heaviest quantum encoding that she could get, and then proceeded to delete the original. "Nothing to worry about. It should be done now. If you reach out in front of you, you'll find some clothes on a little shelf. They were just transported from Rata Sum via micro-gate, so...uh...they might feel a little fuzzy. Residual dimensional static and all that." Kaleb indeed did find the clothing, folded neatly on a small shelf. As he picked it up, the walls of the booth slid back on all sides, extending planes as they did so to keep his privacy intact. Clearly the machine somehow intuited his need for movement space. A moment later and he had slid on the Asuran-designed human-size clothing. "Hmm...very nice material. This isn't wool, is it? I've not felt anything this soft before." "It's Jungle silk. We harvest it from the spiders and wurms. They might be dangerous monsters, but they can be quite useful for natural materials." She smiled, as the walls of the booth finally slid back into the floor. Seeing him fully dressed again, she tipped her head to the side, crossing her arms, and considered him. "Hmmm....Well, they don't look too bad on you. Perhaps I should have gotten the shorts too, so you could replace those human ones you have on." "Huh?" Kaleb was checking out his new duds in a reflection, when he realized what she'd just said. "You didn't see me in my shorts, did you?" "What? Oh no...no no!" Miriya flushed, shaking her head rapidly and holding up her hands in denial. "No no... That's not what I meant! I just meant I should have completed the set! That's all! Really!" His raised eyebrow made her flush even pinker, and she quickly turned away, running up one of the hard-light paths to her cupboard for glasses. Once she was certain he couldn't see her, she let herself exhale heavily. All that work, and she nearly flubbed it up! Returning with the glasses, she called up a table and hovering chairs out of another wall, placing the glasses on the table and pouring them a glass of wine each. "Now that you are... comfortable...Hehe, about that wine I mentioned?" **** "...And that's when I told him, I told him 'How could I have possibly have punched out your son, when he was already unconscious from the booze?'” Kaleb pointed out, and mimed an unconscious man, slumping on his chair and lolling his tongue out of his mouth. Miriya was doubled over laughing, slapping the table top in mock surrender and nearly knocking her wineglass off it. “Oh, by the Alchemy! How in Tyria did you ever get out of that situation?” She asked when she gained enough composure back, tears of laughter still streaming from her large green eyes. She continued to laugh and snicker as she tried to control it. The last two hours after they started to drink had been a blur. The lovely Ascalonian Wine had gone from a full bottle... to the dregs, which were swiftly being drained by a half-toasted Kaleb. He slammed the bottle onto the tabletop, and grinned. “Well you see, this big ol’ Norn, he thinks he’s defending his son’s honor or something, so he’s all puffed up and about to go Bear on me or somethin’... and then he looks over at his son, sees him facedown in his own drool, a shiner on his face that I claim came from the table as he fell... and he just deflates like a balloon. He shakes that big top-knotted head of his and hauls his son up by his backstraps, and just says ‘Yeah. Yeah, I can definitely see that. Boy hasn’t learned to hold his lager yet. Sorry if he bothered you.’ “ “No... No WAY.” Miriya’s jaw dropped. “You got to be kidding me.” Kaleb shook his head, sitting back and looking smug. “Nope. That’s what he said. He actually apologized for his son’s behaviour. Didn’t realize I had slugged that freakin’ twerp for his talk about how wussy--” He slurred it wuzzy “--humans are, and laid that kid out. I’m just glad it turns out he was drinkin’ age. Couldn’t use that bluff if he wasn’t.” “Cog’s gears, Kaleb, you definitely got guts. Standing up to a Norn in his hometown bar like that.” Miriya shook her head, and rubbed her eyes a bit. “I’d have had to call in my minions if that’d happened to me.” “And you woulda been squished for it.” Kaleb replied somberly, staring at her. “The moment they see your eyes and hands do that glow-thing, they would have flattened you with a damned boot. Not many like Necros these days.” “True, true...” Miriya nodded, levity completely gone. She traced the rim of her glass with a dark green-painted nail. “What about you? Do you like Necros?” He pondered for a moment. “Well, I don’t mind them... I don’t mind most anyone. But if they’re undead, I kinda mind them. Orrian and all that crap. But I don’t mind Necros that use Grenth’s gift for good.” She nodded, still circling the glass, an odd expression on her face. “That’s good, that’s good. Um,” She paused, flicking her eyes up to him for a moment to read his face before looking aside. “So....what about me? Do you like me? I mean, uh, I’m a Necromancer, after all.” He nodded, and thought about it for a second. “Well, duh, of course I like you. We’re teammates! I might not know how the Whispers operate, but if the Pact teamed us together, they must see something there, in our dossiers! And we work really well in combat together, as well as in info-gathering. Yeah, I like you. Of course I do, Miriya!” Miriya forced a smile at him, laughing along with him for a moment, before whispering off to the side, almost to herself. “That’s not what I meant...” "I hate to ask, but, do you have anything more like this wine?" Kaleb asked, tipping the dregs into his glass. He made a face, somewhere between concerned and goofy. "I mean, if we're going to keep drinking that is. I'm finally buzzed enough that I feel comfortable without my armour!" She laughed in spite of herself, in spite of the disappointment of his previous answer, but she steeled herself, hopping off her floating seat and heading for the refrigerator unit again. Looking inside she hemmed and hawed, listing things off. "Let's see, we've got that vile concoction that Colacokaia, that Hylek potionmaster forced upon me, we have indigo formula, and Sunny D....AH, here we go." With a triumphant, if a little unbalanced swing, she held the bottle up for his view. "It's... uh... says something about champagne. I forget where I got this from." He took the bottle from her, raising an eyebrow appreciatively as he considered it. "Not bad, but we can't just go chugging a bottle of champagne. That's more of a sipping kind of thing, in a relaxed situation. It's why nobles drink it at their 'parties' or whatever." He made a little, foppish, flippant gesture with his fingers and stuck out his tongue that made her grin. "You mean we should relax more? I thought we were pretty relaxed already!" Miriya laughed, hands on her short hips. "Any more relaxed and I'd probably be asleep!" Kaleb laughed and shook his head, putting the bottle on the table. "Nah, nah. I mean it wouldn't be good for sitting here at this table, trading dirty stories and reliving old fights. It's more...civilized a drink, I guess." The diminutive Asura pondered for a moment, before an idea struck her. "I got it! Come over here." She led him down the terraced interior of her home to the square shaped pool of water occupying the 'bottom' corner of the cube, and with a flourish indicated the gently lapping blue water. "Ta-da!" "What?... it's a pool of water." He replied, nonplussed. He crossed his arms and looked at her, confused. "Is there supposed to be something in it?" "Yes!" Miriya grinned, tugging at his pantleg. "Us!" She caught herself, and released his pantleg, coughing a bit. "I mean, it's not just a pool of water. I configured this corner to be either a hot spring or a cool bath, depending on what I felt like." "Really? You can do that?" He blinked, and considered the square of water. It was roughly his height on all sides, and he couldn't tell how deep it was based on the terracing and false-depth illusion of the shifting waters. "So....what, we should sit in it while we drink the champagne?" "Well, yeah?" Miriya shrugged and smiled, before running around the square to a panel on the edge of one of the stairs. After fiddling around with the controls, she pushed a red blinking square, and, much to her delight, the pool suddenly erupted into gentle bubbles. "Ah ha! There we go. Jaccuzzi." "Ja-whatzee?" "Nothing." She tested the water with a toe, smiling at the temperature, before turning and hopping up a few steps on the terrace. "Just one problem though; Our clothes. Shouldn't get them wet. Those'd get very itchy and kinda ruin my pool to boot." "So...what?" Kaleb knelt down and dipped his fingers into the water. "We'll strip down to our skivvies? This is as warm as that Norn hot spring...you know the one, in Lornar's Pass?" "You mean Wayfarer Foothills. Zelechor Hot Springs." Miriya frowned, shaking her head. "You are always so bad with locations. I'm surprised you get anywhere." "Hey, my hammer takes me wherever I need to go." He smiled, standing up. "Now, is there another booth, or where should I put this stuff?" "Oh! Anywhere!" She grinned, waving a hand at the terraces around them. "Just leave it high enough to not get wet." He nodded, and started shedding clothes, tossing them onto a higher step. Miriya stared for a moment, feeling the blood rush to her face, before she realized she WAS staring, and quickly looked aside. "Uh, I suppose I better...um...get ready too!" It took her almost no time to get rid of her simple tunic top and light pants, leaving her bathing suit-like bodysuit as the only remaining piece of clothing. It was hot pink and white; not her usual colors, and for a moment, she was horrified and embarrassed by the dichotomy between her normal dress and her bodysuit. Please don't let him say anything about the bodysuit. Please don't let him say anything about... "Nice bodysuit you got there. Didn't figure you for the color pink." He smirked, settling into the warmed water. SCRAP! Miriya swore internally, flushing almost as pink as her suit. She immediately leapt into the pool, covering herself to her neck in water while keeping her arms wrapped around herself. "I-I..er... I forgot about the color...You wear a body suit most of your life as an Asura, and you kinda forget about it!" He shrugged, taking the champagne bottle and looking around. "Uh, do you have any wine glasses or champagne glasses down here? The others we left up on your table up there." "Oh! Yeah... Um... Hang on, I'll go get them." She hopped out of the water, moving as fast as her little legs could carry her; the faster she moved, the less he'd see the pink suit. A few moments later, she slid into the water beside him, and placed the glasses on the exposed step behind them. "Here." "Thank you muchly." Kaleb smiled, and poured them each a generous portion of champagne. That done, he handed one of the champagne flutes to her, and saluted her with it. "To good friends, good drinks, and faking it like high society fops!" Miriya giggled, and tipped her glass so it dinged against his lightly, the pure crystal note a pleasant sound. "To one of the best teammates I've ever had, and possibly my best friend in all of Tyria." They both sipped. "Aw, that was sweet, Miriya." Kaleb smiled, scratching the back of his head after he finished his sip. "I knew we were friends, but I didn't know you thought of me as a best friend." "Well, I do, you big lug." She smirked and gave his arm a playful punch. She put her glass behind her, one step up on the shelf, and rubbed an ear in thought. "You never judge me based on my size, even when we first were introduced, never thought of me as weak or cowardly for being a magic user...never turned away when you learned what kind of magic I used, or what it sometimes does to me..." She shivered a bit, wrapping her arms around herself. "Using the Death Shroud is so intoxicating but... There are times I worry that I'll lose myself to it. And that I might end up no better than an Orrian." Miriya rubbed a tear away from her eye with a finger. Damn the alchohol... it was making her resolve fall away. Already she could feel the depression sinking in again. Soon she'd have to retreat to her room and spend the rest of the night getting herself under contro-- Her thoughts were interrupted by Kaleb wrapping an arm around her and drawing her up into his lap into a hug. It wasn't a comradely hug, like he might have done outside in the cities, or a brotherly hug as he'd done to her before in celebration of things. It was just a hug, but it was much more than just a hug, in a way she couldn't define. It took her a moment of stunned shock to respond, but she finally relaxed, wrapping her smaller arms as best she could around him and hiding her face in his chest. After a few moments, Kaleb spoke. "Miriya, don't ever doubt yourself. Don't ever doubt your skills; I know I don't. You mastered a fantastically powerful magic few dare to. I read the story about how you came to the attention of the Whispers: You made those Inquest pay for what they did. I think you might be one of the most powerful people I've ever had the pleasure of knowing." Miriya listened, and smiled sadly, closing her eyes as she realized he was only seeing her skills and abilities, and not her. So close...so very close... she lamented, still fighting the urge to cry. He just doesn't see... "I've never been scared of you or your skills, Miriya. Not even when you used the Death Shroud. Because I know you'd never harm anyone you cared about." He gently stroked her braids and ears with one hand, not letting her draw away with the other. "You're an amazing person, Miriya, and I think that no matter what, you'll accomplish anything you set your mind to." Miriya's eyes snapped open at that compliment. She quickly mulled it over in her head, and slowly withdrew her arms from the embrace. "Miriya?...are you okay?" Kaleb asked, concerned at her silence and her retreat from the hug. She had her head turned down, so he couldn't see the expression on her face at all. "....I can accomplish anything eh?" She whispered, half to him, half to herself, staring at her hands where they braced against his bare chest. To Kaleb's ear, he could hear the quiet wavering in those few words. "There's just one thing I can't seem...to do..." "What would that be?" He asked softly, wondering about his friend. He could see her shaking quietly, as if she were cold, though the water was quite warm. Her small digits reflexively twitched where she had them on his chest. "Is it something I can help with?" She half-laughed, half-sobbed, shoulders rocking with the effort to resist. Would she take the chance? Would it do anything, mean anything? What do I even have to lose? "Yeah....it's...something you could help me with." She whispered in a shaky voice. "What is it? You can tell me." NOW. "This." She replied, and quickly tilted her head up to catch him in a kiss. Her arms flew around his neck, half to support herself, half to keep him from snapping his head back in surprise as her lips found his. Miriya kept her eyes tightly shut to avoid looking him in the face, seeing the shocked, perhaps betrayed expression on his face as she broke through the friend-barrier to get what she wanted. At contact, she felt that electric charge that she always felt directed at him. In other situations, it had been when he'd touched her shoulder, or playfully flicked her ear with a finger. Or when he hauled her up to sit on his shoulder while they travelled. Little moments of contact, each with an electric pulse, at least to her. They were all friendly gestures, so she put off how they felt, guilty for feeling more. This moment though...the electric shock was so many magnitudes greater...but so was the accompanying guilt. I just tricked my best friend...she cried inside as she kissed him. I just tricked him, got him drunk, and now I'm stealing a kiss that wasn't mine to have...he's going to stay so far away now... her thoughts then fell apart into unrequited sorrow. Slowly, Miriya broke the kiss, letting her hands slip from his neck, and settling down into the warm water of the pool. She never looked him in the eyes; she just turned to the side and curled up on herself, arms around her knees, looking away. Looking ashamed. "I-I'm sorry." She whispered, sniffling. "I-I'm sorry I did that...I just... I wanted t-to..." "Hey. Hey Miriya." Kaleb's soft voice made her ear twitch. With her eyes clenched closed, she almost jumped when she felt his finger under her chin, turning her face up to look at him. Her green, almond-shaped eyes opened in terrified surprise, and she stared at him, pleadingly, but so badly scared of what the question might be. "...For how long, Miriya?" He asked. Her eyes searched his for any sign of anger or betrayal...or disgust. It wasn't long ago historically that humans thought they were the center of all things and that all were below them. Nothing like that was in his eyes. Only warmth and concern. "For how long have you been holding yourself back like that?" There was a moment of silence as she processed his question. Her face alternately lit up with happiness, but seemed so ready to break into full on tears at the very same moment. Her mouth almost stretched into a smile, though it was a shaky one, and a tear escaped her eye, sliding down her smooth cheek. She let out a half-chuckle, half-cry, before shaking her head. "....since...almost since the first time we met." "You entered the room, smiled, and introduced yourself...you and that big dumb iron hammer of yours. " She laughed a little, staring up at him. "I didn't know what to think. I was told there'd be a human on the team, but I expected some dour soldier...instead, you walked in and made me laugh." Miriya reached up and gently touched his hand where it cupped her cheek. "You didn't bat an eye at my Necromancy...you joked with me and made me feel welcome when we camped out on missions...I'm not sure, but I think you even snapped me out of the Death Shroud that one time, by...just being there." She turned her head in towards the palm of his hand and gave it a soft kiss. "I never thought I'd be attracted to a non-Asura. Never even entered my mind...till you. Once I realized that, I had to get your attention some how. Even if for a moment." A sigh escaped her. "When I learned we had business in Rata Sum, I contrived a way for us to be alone. I introduced Dhangalor to a weaponsmith friend, and I lent Corvus my card to the datablocks in the archives." "And Slane?" Kaleb asked. "Didn't have to do a thing. He just disappeared." She chuckled ruefully. "For all I know he's in this room and cloaked, watching my humiliation." The Asura turned her head to look him in the face. "I tricked you, to get you to come here. To get you alone... to get you drunk..." Another tear fell. "I-I'll understand if you want to leave, or if you never want to talk to me again...I just, I just..." Miriya was interrupted once again by Kaleb. This time however, he cut her off by giving her mouth something else to do. Eyes wide in surprise, it took her a moment to realize he was kissing her this time, and when that registered, she all but melted into his arms. "My poor Miriya..." Kaleb sighed after the kiss was broken. He stroked her cheek, rubbing a tear away. "I didn't see the signs...didn't know how you felt. I honestly thought you thought I was a... what's the term?" "...Bookah?" She chuckled feebly. He smiled. "A Bookah. That's it. I know, and I knew, that I could never match you mentally in damned near anything. But I didn't see all the times, all the little things you said and did...till now." "....and now?" "I'm not going to send you away, or ignore you, for starters." He smirked, raising an eyebrow. "And I'm not going to stop being your best friend either. So you don't need to worry your pretty little head about that." Miriya couldn't repress the giggle, which earned a broad grin from Kaleb. "That being said, I gotta admire your little plan. You did catch me off guard with that kiss...but...honestly it wasn't that bad." Her jaw dropped, and she stared at him as he winked. "It was actually pretty good. I had no idea you were that good a kisser." "I...I-ya...wha..." "You know, I think in the back of my head, I always wondered what it'd be like to kiss you. You had those lovely lips, and that black lipstick..." He grinned. "I never would have thought you'd have had a crush on a simple human." That earned him a smack to the shoulder. "You! I... I ARGH!..." She reached up and grabbed his cheeks so that he was looking her straight in the eyes. "Simple human?! Says the guy who goes and rips the scrappin' ARM off a Destroyer troll and beats it to death with it?! And then has the club at the end of that arm turned into a new hammer head?" She glared at him, teeth grinding, a low growl in her throat, before kissing him again. "You're just damned lucky I think you're cute, big Bookah." She purred, stroking his cheek, feeling the stubble under her nail. "Oh, now we're name-calling?" Kaleb chuckled, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Or is that supposed to be my pet name now?" "Mm, no...not a pet name." She frowned a bit, before smirking. "How about a code name for in public? Others might think I'm insulting your intelligence, but you'd know I'm not?" "Works for me...Bookah never really insulted me anyway." He shrugged. "Always made me think 'Book-reader' or something. So coming from an Asura, it doesn't actually sound like an insult." "Good...Then that's what I'll nickname you in public; Big Bookah. MY Big Bookah." She licked her lips playfully, her emerald eyes examining him so close up. "Mm... That does sound good."

#gw2 #gw2 fanfiction #tyrias-library #My characters #Miriya Danae #Kaleb Fenoir #cute #romantic #kinda cliche?#asura female #male human #asura necromancer #human warrior

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i-mybrunettelady · 4 years ago

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Not a Mordrem

Slight preface: This has very much been sitting in my head for a few days now, and after all the El asks I’ve done these past few days, a general desire to write and conversations with a guildie of mine, I’ve decided to actually write this down.

This is not a happy fic, but it ended up having a sorta happy end. You’ve been warned. It’s HoT and HoT is very sad. Elandrin, I’m so sorry in advance. Also warnings for (albeit not graphic) violence, a dollop of racism against the sylvari and curses. Also vague HoF spoilers.

It starts as a headache, not a particularly pleasant one but again, few headaches ever are, and El has dealt with a lot of them so it’s usually easy to ignore it till it passes. Except this one doesn’t, but he tries anyway, checking his battle knives high in the air as Vengeance Rising glides through it.

“Brother,” a voice says. El jerks to look around, but he’s alone in the cabin. He’s hardly slept the night before out of jitters so maybe it’s his exhaustion speaking. He rises from the chair to open the door but finds nobody there. His head throbs a little more strongly and he feels the pull to go to the main deck and watch the people - he doesn’t necessarily fancy seeing charr snouts and asura claws but it gnaws at him and he’s unable to resist the temptation to see why.

The sylvari all appear to have identical frowns upon their faces when he arrives. The others keep staring at them, wondering why, and really, why are they all frowning, like their heads hurt really badly? And there’s a tense atmosphere, as if something is about to snap, as if-

Then the vines come and El, in his shock, forgets to thank the Pale Tree he didn’t bring his dagger with him.

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“Is anyone alive?” a female voice shouts.

It takes him a moment to gain a sense of his surroundings. He’s laying in mud, beside a heavy piece of metal that only missed an inch away from his head, his side throbs and everything around him is green.

“Over here!” he shouts back, groans as he rises to his feet, but a firm grip of a hand keeps him down.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you now!” the woman yells.

“Because I’m not the enemy,” he quips sharply, “do they not teach you to differentiate between friend and foe in your mindless little Vig-” His head flies back at the force of the hit. He groans again.

“Why on Tyria are you hitting me?” he squints at Tactian Julianna as she prepares her hammer.

“Julianna, stop! Don’t you think he’d have attacked us already if he were Mordremoth’s?” another voice adds.

“Thank you, Gean,” El sighs in disappointment. “What exactly happened?”

“You twiggies all turned rabid and started attacking everyone,” Julianna bites. “Fucking sylvari.”

He doesn’t remember any violence. He remembers the vines and some strange urge and falling down rapidly, but not any actual violence.

“Do you feel yourself, Arcanist?” Gean asks. Priory, El recalls. Novice. Sieran’s new student.

“Where are we?” he asks instead.

“Dunno,” Julianna shrugs. Her hammer is still in her hands. “Last chance to answer him, twiggy.”

“For fuck’s sake, Julianna, I’m not going to attack you! By the Pale Tree, if you attack me, I’ll defend myself and you know what magic can do against your little hammer!”

That makes her put the weapon down. Thank fuck, El thinks, when a strange ache infects his head again.

“My son,” it says.

“I’m not Mordrem, Tactitian,” he growls and stands. “Now get us to the nearest Pact camp. I think I’m hurt.”

“I’m not taking orders from a sylvari,” she threatens. “You listen to me or I swear to Balthazar’s sacred hounds, you’ll be a pile of sap on the floor.”

El bites his lip. He doesn’t wish to be sap on the floor.

“My son,” the voice calls again. He barely calms the air in his lungs. He hopes Trahearne and Sieran are safe. He hopes to whomever will listen that Alysannyra trips on something on that chase of hers and hits her head hard enough to remember she’s needed in Maguuma.

“Fine, Tactitian,” he hisses at last. “Lead the fucking not-Mordrem. Here I am.”

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There’s a Mordrem skirmish a few days later. Weaponless, El is forced to grab a piece of wood and channel his magic through that; he never thought the smell of burning wood would be pleasing, yet one never knows when they’d meet Mordrem. Julianna’s hammer also stars in the performance, smashing the villains left and right.

Unfortunately, Gean’s body does too. The norn was hit in the chest by a Mordrem sword. At least the death is quick, El thinks, not unkindly. He knows why Sieran liked him. He was attentive, gentle and didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of a Mordrem blade.

Pale Tree protect us all.

“You attract them,” Julianna declares. “Did you hear what one of them said?”

“I’m not its brother,” El yells, hands shaking. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Common sense isn’t wrong with me!” She shouts back. “This is the third Mordrem skirmish we’ve faced since trying to find a medic for your precious plant ribs! The Mordrem know one of their own!”

“Would you say that to the Marshal’s face? Would you say that if the Commander were around?” He stares at Gean’s body. Could he animate it to swallow this bitch’s soul?

“Marshal is a stronger man than you’ll ever be,” Julianna says, “I bet he’s fighting Mordrem as we speak and the Commander is, too. She doesn’t abandon her own, like some of us are tempted to do.”

“She’s the enemy,” the voice says and it sounds like his own. El gives a lopsided grin. Julianna has wanted him dead for days now. He may have been taunting her with magic before, but if she lands a hit, he’s done for.

But with Mordremoth’s strength-

A broken laughter tears from his throat. “I am not a Mordrem!” he shouts at the sky, fingers digging into the leaves on his head. “Trahearne is not a Mordrem! Get off that fucking ley-line already!”

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He runs away that night.

In hindsight, it’s not the smartest idea. But Mordremoth kept whispering, and he was tempted to borrow a little of the dragon’s strength to bash her head in. Then he remembered that he wasn’t a Mordrem and just left her at the mercy of the incoming enemy force.

In hindsight, it makes the whispers turn into shouts that make him sob and stumble against a tree and reach for his magic just to get his mind away from the invading power. He can’t really tell spells apart but he manages to find a healing one and apply it to his rib, desperately trying to remember the anatomy lessons.

He’s since pulled most of his foliage off, leaving behind a few ugly leaves that were once a beautiful night-dark shade. He thinks of Trahearne’s green leaves and Sieran’s red ones, even of the strands of that norn he’s taken to bed once, but Mordremoth doesn’t relent.

“Not-a-Mordrem,” he grunts out. “I am not a Mordrem!”

“You’ll obey,” Mordremoth says and El breathes a sigh of relief. He doesn’t know how much time he has until it strikes again, so he straightens up and walks in the direction of the noise he heard earlier.

Or thought he heard...

------------------------------------------------------------------------

He cries tears of relief when he sees people. A lot of them. All races. He’s half-convinced he’s imagining it, but he sobs out happily either way. He’s half-convinced he’s gone mad and this is a happy place where all little sylvari go to escape Mordremoth.

“-attack being launched from here, we’re really close,” he hears a clear, familiar voice and he’s never been happier to see Alysannyra in his life.

“Not-a-Mordrem,” he whispers, so close yet so far away, and his legs have never felt heavier.

Heavy enough to make a thud when he crashes into the ground, heavy enough to make her turn and run towards him. El’s smile is desperate, he’s sure there’s sap everywhere on his face, and she comes into view.

Her eyes are a wrong colour. But she sounds like Alysannyra. But her eyes are wrong. She doesn’t sound like Mordremoth.

“Not-a-Mordrem,” he mutters weakly.

“No, you’re not,” she says gently. “Medic, we need a medic over here! It’s Arcanist Elandrin!” There’s a wash of magic and he feels his body sag even further. “You’re okay, you’re okay,” she repeats.

“Trahearne,” he croaks.

Her wrong eyes freeze. “We’ll find him,” she says and her voice breaks. “He’s out there. You rest now, medics are coming.”

“Not-a-Mordrem,” he says and pride swells in his chest.

Not a Mordrem

The world goes black.

#gw2 #guild wars 2 #elandrin aien #sylvari #gw2 sylvari #inspo birb has come to town #im so sorry el #also very vague alysannyra #alysannyra #i needed to get this out #fanfic #heart of thorns #in my headcanon nyra's eyes changed colour when she became Champion #julianna we dont like you #*sharpens knives for julianna*#writing

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gwtwoimpsarewe · 5 years ago

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Welcome to the Family

So, this story won’t make a lot of sense without context; but I’ll save that for another post. I wrote it to enjoy it and it’s my first full OC full prose. Hopefully ya’ll enjoy it too.

A quick helper tho set after the prologue bound by blood. So mild? Spoilers?

Lorcan Vulthon - Norn, Roughly about 26 (circa 1332),(Ex-)Wolf Shaman, (Ex-)Auxiliary Iron Legion Engineer, Vigil Initiate. Yes he was raised by wolves. (Not literally)

Zariah Dào - Human, Roughly about 42 (circa 1332), (My Commander for the game, but operates under Lt. Commander to allow for easier rp), Warmaster of a Vigil Company, Lorcan’s new Boss, Has not tapped out since Claw Island.

Veeck - my necromancer reaper I haven’t made but am taking from an old DnD character of mine, Asura, age unknown, The Deacon of Pain,

A jungle stalker, tiger and one other feline mini follow him around that’s the joke. One of the JP’s for the Tiger den Achievement is what sparked this.

Not sure what to tag it but it starts funny ends feelsy, found family vibes, if descriptions of eyes squick you (no harm just who’s looking at you, sudden eye contact etc) be wary or pass on, fluffy angst I suppose, emotional breakdown,

it ends happily I swear!

(Don’t panic if things seem to change, I post and edit as I go otherwise I get locked in perfectionism spiral and never post at all.)

“Boss.”

Eyes shielded from the setting sun, Lorcan peered out over the landscape, comm at the ready.

“Boooossssss.”

Dusk crawled toward the horizon. Hazy smoke trails blown over the open fields lazily from the nearby mill, an end of a lovely day, on all accounts.

“Boss!”

The receiver came to life in Lorcan’s hand with an exhausted sigh of static as Lt. Commander Zariah sluggishly answered, “Yes, Lorcan. What is it?”

The smile pulled over Lorcan’s face, unable to resist the urge to tease. “Kinda, an odd time of day to be sleeping sir.”

It was utterly incredible how he could feel the dry stare-down and complex half lecture on the misuse of communications equipment in a brief pause.

That was talent right there.

Another sigh brought his attention back in, “I wasn’t, thank you, did you need something?”

Brightening, Lorcan sat down in front of the mess of fur and leaves, “Yeah! I found your cat bed!”

“… What.”

Lorcan gestures at the pile of leaves at his feet although his officer couldn’t see it. “Yeah! One of your Sylvari, the one with the monotone-”

“-Ours, and their name is Eir, -”

“-Said one of your weird tiny death machines-“

“-Again, wild animals, and not mine-”

“-Yeah, yeah, the striped one ran off and went to bed everything-”

“-Tiger; and has been making beds not bedding, your Common is improving-”

“I found one!”

The crackle and whine from a heavy static sigh made Lorcan wince and pull the device from his ear.

“...… You’ve found a tiger.”

Something about the suddenly calculating monotone made his insides squirm as he forced the cheerful up another notch. “Well no, but I’ve found its bed, and now we have each other’s scents, and I probably will find it and we’ll form a life-long bond like rangers and shaman-”

“Lorcan.” His name came gently, cutting off his rambling in a way that had nausea setting in.

“I’m grateful you found one, does it look fresh?” The genial tone was almost disconcerting after seeing nothing but jaded exhaustion, and it was wrong.

This was not how this works.

This was a crank call. Because he’s Lorcan. The rambling loud, obnoxious idiot whose superiors while agitated are fond of. Lorcan, who did not want to do this all over again but here they are, and Zariah! Who’d barely known him three days!

Who took him in without blinking after getting cut off from his war-band, who trusted him enough for a reconnaissance mission. Who put up with all his antics so far with a droll but benign stare; who—

A rustling came finally, along with the clink and slosh of what Lorcan knew to be the large mug of coffee usually in hand.

“Lorcan-”

“Stop that,” his throat felt tight, half leaping to his feet into a defensive stance, “You—Don’t-” The plains suddenly felt suffocatingly small, leaving him on edge and snarling into his comm.

Burn him, what was he doing.

“Lorcan.”

“Stop that!” his ears were burning, eyes stinging against the smoke in the air. It was his name; it was just his name what the tar was his problem?

The placid silence that followed nearly had him throw the damn thing down onto the rocks. Embarrassment burned viciously under his skin. He was better than this now. He wasn’t-

“Lo-”

He turned the comm offline.

It was long past dark by the time he’d calmed down, eyes red and throat raw, hunched at the base of the tree.

Great first impression.

Really sold it this time.

Groaning, he dug his face into his knees to do something other than mope in the dark like a moody cub. Or worse start up again.

A skittering of rocks and not entirely muffled metal had him look up in time to see a silhouette with an obnoxious Asuran light nearly blind him.

“Mind if I come over? You turned your comm off.” Zariah inquired tilting his head to the side just before the last jump. “I can stay over here. Just wanted to-”

Lorcan waved him off with a flippant hand and shoved his face back down. “Make sure I hadn’t broken-”

“-Your bones. Yes. Or anything else important to your personal self.” Zariah moved over the outburst with both a note of finality and comfort that had Lorcan looking up out of instinct, only to wince again at the mini sun in his Commanders hand.

“… If you're going to jump over, douse the Mouse-Light. Before I lose my eyes.”

Immediately, the object dimmed down and out before far more familiar sounds came and a torch sparked to life. “Sorry about that, but I’ll ask you to refrain from derogatory names. Veeck is a valued member of our team and cares deeply about our survival.”

“… The Asura.”

“Yes.”

“Who rambles on about some new Entity?”

“Of Pain, yes.”

“… Boss.”

“Not up for debate, Lorcan.”

Heaving to his feet with a sigh, Lorcan reached out to him; “Well, can’t let them upstage me now can I. C’mon I’ll catch you; it won’t give you enough light without the M--……. beacon. From the Deacon.”

Zariah landed with a grunt into his grip. “You’ll have to share that one, they’d love that-what is that an idiom?”

“Not a clue.” Wearily sitting again, Lorcan stopped short as something small and purring wormed its way into his lap. “… Uh…”

“She likes belly rubs, and she can smell tears.” Was all Zariah offered settling next to him and safely anchoring the torch in front of them, while the Stalker wiggled about before she settled solidly into Lorcan’s lap. Big eyes batted up at him, as if pointedly proving Zariah’s point; said belly up and offered.

Slowly, Lorcan answered the demand, a new deeper slew of purrs unleashed in repayment. “I thought you said they’re wild.”

“They are. Or were, a few years ago. They found me in the Maguuma, when Mordremoth was; well you know.” came the easy answer, as Zariah set about digging in his pack and handing over a wrapped meat smelling something to Lorcan who merely blinked at it.

“You haven’t eaten since before you left and I know how Norn eat. Eat your dinner.”

Gingerly, Lorcan accepted the meal; before peering at him. “… Does this get any weirder?”

“Only if you let your guard down long enough for them to steal it.”

“Wh-Hey!”

They sat like that a long while, quietly; with a lap full of warm purring death machines, a belly full with warm food and drink, and tired eyes watching the torch slowly burn down to a smolder.

The lecture never came; the ‘we’re alike you and I’ speech, the wise mentor talk, whatever he’d been expecting. Zariah just sat there, relaxed and was… well, there.

But then it made sense didn’t it. He was a tactician for a military organization, one of the high tier leaders in the Pact, leader of his own company; and Lorcan was an accomplished engineer and a perceptive people's person when he wasn’t being difficult.

There wasn’t anything to say.

He’d freaked out, he didn’t want to freak out, but he did. He’d reverted to causing a scene and trouble because he was a full inferno of freaking the blazes out. About what any of this meant now. About where home was now. What he would do now. What his purpose was now.

Had another identity crisis in an evening flat because he kept trying to put it in a title. Wolf Shaman, Auxiliary Charr—anything that wasn’t just him. How else could he go back and show that he’d changed after all? Prove he was all grown up out of his awkward paws making a mess of everything.

Except he hadn’t had he-

“pWaCKth!”

Lorcan spat fur out of his mouth, leaning away from the incessantly batting paws from his lap companion. “Hey! Hey! Hey! C’mon!”

“I told you. She smells monologues.”

“You said tears.”

Stretching out with an innocent hum that edged too close to playful to pass as sincere, Zariah rose a brow at him, “Mm? Did I? I must have misspoken. So terribly sorry.”

The words pulled a snort out of Lorcan at the obvious lie, “So, what, she just slaps you in the face at random? Or she’s just psychic and knows when you're spiraling every time.”

Turning towards him, Zariah rose the brow higher, something of a smirk toying in the corner of his mouth. “Oh, definitely a psychic; when I need it. Constantly. She can tell usually because,” His eyes glanced meaningfully at Lorcan’s lap, “I’ve ceased to pet her.”

Lorcan paused, looking to where his hands had fallen stagnant some time ago on her back, much to the indignant pout on her face. “… Oh.”

“Well.” He chuckled at his own obliviousness and began smoothing hands down her head and spine apologetically, much to her delight, “S’a good trick.”

“She tries.” A yawn dragged out the end of the sentence as Zariah settled down more against Lorcan’s side who moved to accommodate him.

Eyes glanced at the time curiously, “Aw burn me, Boss I’m-”

“Safe.” That firm tone was back again, even as exhausted as it sounded. “And that’s all I care about. We’ll go back when you’re ready.”

“Don’t you have paperwork to do?”

“Great thing about paper, it’ll be there when I get back.”

“What about orders? Don’t you have to know what’s”

“Anything I need to know, I’ll know through my comm, if it’s of immediate importance. As for orders, there are other commanders.”

“… How many hours you running on here?”

“Two and a half, I was in fact sleeping when you called me.”

“Boss-” An incredulous laugh cut short by an overused stubborn excuse.

“I had coffee.”

Silence lapsed again, softer as the torch barely glowed embers and Zariah’s breathing began to deepened, and slow against his side.

It wouldn’t have made sense for how lax Zariah was, after seven years of nearly non-stop war and fighting; if the moon wasn’t glinting off four Iron Legion Sharpshooters standing guard nearby that Lorcan could now see.

“Boss?” swallowing around the lump in his throat, Lorcan nudged him again. “Hey, Boss.”

There was a slurred hum, eyes not even opening as Zariah lifted a brow in answer “Mmn—yes Lorcan.”

“… Thanks.”

“S’ what ‘m here for.”

Epilogue (aka beeps an giggles)

For the weight of a Pact Commander, Zariah was unnervingly light once you removed the pack, armor, weapons, felines, etc.

Which Lorcan awkwardly got to know firsthand as the pint-sized (seriously how small was this guy) Asura fussed around this way and that muttering too fast to keep up with.

It was a very odd feeling of you break it you buy it, with the Commanders sleep schedule. Which cemented in his mind as no one else seemed bothered by the ranting Asura at his feet.

“-two months! Two months! Not even! We were so close, on ordered leave, relaxing, vacationing, nearly had it! But no! The evil little box of death opens its evil little mouth and ruin everything! This does not please the Pain!”

Lorcan made the mistake of uttering “Does anything,” before realizing the error as he became the subject of the bespectacled, laser sharp, owlish gaze before off again as they moved in thought.

Finally, with a decisive nod, they firmly shouted up to him, “…… Milk! Milk and Ink!”

(Seriously did the guy think he was deaf? Though they looked like they’d fit into his boot with room to spare, and he wasn’t exactly short himself.)

A tiny hand lifted into the air, fire in their eyes; “I shall explain!”

“Please don’t.” Lorcan begged.

“Easy Squeak-A-Veak, lets save converting until after we get Boss back to bed for a few hours. We’ve already got orders to meet up with General Soulkeeper in the morning.” Came the beautiful rescue from one of the other officers Lorcan couldn’t put a name to.

Whose hands lifted up immediately in a placating gesture, as the tiny Asura looked ready to implode, “Rephrase, to head over to General Soulkeeper in the morning.”

Small detonation avoided, the medic, nodded with minimal professional sulking, “He’s napping on the way there.”

“As always, you can try small fry, you can try. Eir wanted to see you; I’ll see that Boss gets settled yeah?” Offering a fond amused look, they winked at Lorcan who wasn’t honestly sure what to do with himself at this point of being ‘Boss-shelf’.

Veeck squinted but turned and left with a toddle out of the room. “I know what you’re doing and I don’t appreciate it but yes I will leave and stop scaring our recruit.”

“… Wasn’t scared.” Came late and lamely as the officer chuckled and lead him in to where Zariah was staying for the time being.

Which for the first few moments Lorcan was sure they got the wrong room before he finally spotted a bed past all the paperwork. “Is that a war table?”

“Mini-sized yeah, Rye sleeps in his office, it was the only solution after a long drawn out internal war lemme tell you.”

“How is that a win?”

“He used to do it on a cot armed with a coffee pot, and don’t worry about Veeck. Squeakers is harmless; they get dramatic with displeasure and pain cos it’s like a prayer offering? I think? I’m trying to follow it but I need a few more run throughs. They’re a lot calmer day to day.”

“…….. Oh! Good to know, thanks—ah…”

“You forgot my name already didn’t you.”

“……………………..”

Laughing they helped settle Zariah down and into bed, even tucking them in. Which by this point, Lorcan had one final question.

“…… Sooo, kinda curious. Why he’s not; you know.”

“Twitchy as fleas about being handled like a doll? He usually is, but this is day four of small naps and I made his coffee decaf. He’s out cold for the next three to five hours.”

“Burn me.”

“It’s a good thing, say goodnight if you want; just hit the lights when you're done. I’m catching a few myself before we hit the road.” They offered with a wave before heading out.

Lorcan absentmindedly gave a wave only to perk and try to call out; “Wait! You didn’t--…… tell me your name. Tar’nfeathers.”

Sitting down with a sigh he glanced over at Zariah, and with a crooked grin leaned over. “Night Boss. Still totally going to steal your tiger.”

A brow raised as tired, but amused eyes snapped open, “Still totally not going to let it happen.” Zariah challenged as Lorcan shrieked with a flail and fell off the bed.

“Burn! Tar! and Feather You!”

Yawning with a final chuckle, Zariah listened to him stalk off and turn out the lights. “Good Night, Lorcan.”

“Welcome to the family.”

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kerra-and-company · 4 years ago

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A prompt for Kerra and DW member of your choice! This strikes me as a very Rytlock line though lmao “Every time I think I’m close to finally figuring you out you end up surprising me.”

Thank you so much for the prompt! That is indeed a very Rytlock line, and this got longer than I expected, dear lord. But here you go! Set after “The Sacrifice” in PoF, so spoilers for that for anyone who needs to know. Under a cut because it’s a bit longer than my last one.

“That spirit…was Balthazar.”

Kerra’s heart stopped.

Rytlock kept talking, but she couldn’t hear him over the ringing in her ears. She thought he was saying something about not knowing, but she wasn’t processing any of it, not really.

“You…?” It was hardly more than a whisper. “You let him out.”

“Commander?”

Under normal circumstances, she’d have seen the look on Rytlock’s face. Under normal circumstances, she’d feel his emotions, and his pain, and his regret, and she’d put them all first. Like she did with everyone, all her friends, always, always, always.

This was definitely not “normal circumstances.”

“You did this.” A little louder.

“Commander…I—”

“By the Pale Mother!” Kerra said, almost laughing. It was too high-pitched. “Every time. Every time I think I’m close to figuring you out, you manage to surprise me.”

“Kerra—” Rytlock was pleading, but Kerra was past caring.

“I helped pull your guild back together. We were friends. And then you jumped into a portal, into the Mists, after a sword, because you value yourself and your friends less than an enchanted piece of metal.” Kerra moved toward him, jabbing a finger into his chest, hitting his armor.

“And when you came back, you’d clearly gone through something that you refused to talk about, and you accused me and my siblings and my partners and every other sylvari in Maguuma of belonging to the jungle dragon.”

“That—”

“And then, after we defeated Mordremoth, you apologized, and I forgave you, because you were scared and trying your best and you’d just come back from the Mists. But you wouldn’t tell anyone what you went through! For years! And you were hiding this?!” She was screaming by now. Somewhere behind her, Canach and Kasmeer were calling her name. She felt hands on her shoulders. She shook them off.

“We could have gotten out in front of this somehow! Even if you didn’t know it was Balthazar, we could have had a little warning at least! We could have prevented damage! Saved so many lives!” Kerra shoved Rytlock with all her strength, and he stumbled back. “Do you have any idea how many people we lost?” Villages burning to the ground. Forged outposts all over the Crystal Desert. “How many families are in pieces now?” The refugees outside Amnoon. Kormir’s priests and priestesses, and the wounded. So many more, countless more, countless others. “Do you—”

Her voice abruptly choked off, and she coughed to clear her throat, her eyes glistening with tears and anger. “Aurene could have met her brother,” she said, voice broken, collapsing to the ground amidst thousands of yellow crystal shards. Canach and Kas sank down with her, supporting both sides. “I can feel her pain, did you know that? I can’t shut it out.”

She sobbed. Rytlock was still in front of her, frozen dead still. “She is grieving, and she is one of thousands,” Kerra spit out. “And I can’t go to her—I can’t even help her. I need to be here. So she has to grieve alone.”

She took a deep, shuddering breath.

“Lin,” Canach murmured, right by her ear, and she let out another sob. “Lin, I’ll call Nisha; xe can go to her. And she has Taimi, and the Exalted, and Caithe—” Kerra scoffed quietly at Caithe’s name. “She has people,” he said, a finger drawing patterns on her shoulder that she could just barely feel through her armor. “She will not be alone.”

“Make…make sure,” Kerra whispered, feeling the breath leave her lungs. She squeezed his hand twice, a silent thank you.“Call Nish. Please. Go.”

He squeezed back, stood up, and moved away. She heard the crackle of the communicator, and the noise jolted her body into action. She shuddered and stood as well, with Kasmeer’s help. As her reason slowly returned, Kas’s pain and confusion flooded her mind, along with something Kerra was learning to recognize as the feeling of broken faith. She was still too dazed to puzzle it out fully, but she tucked it away in the back of her mind.

Rytlock’s eyes were brighter than usual when she looked up again, and yet another part of her fractured when she saw the wet fur on his face. She belatedly tried to control her expression. She wasn’t sure why she bothered. Her emotions seethed and rolled like the Jade Sea in a storm, merging into one incomprehensible mess.

“I’m gonna fix this, Commander,” he said, wobblier than she had ever heard him, but still certain. “You have my word.”

“You can’t fix this, Tribune,” Kerra said, suddenly more exhausted than anything else. “Hundreds of deaths are not fixable. You can’t bring Vlast back.” She stepped forward. He flinched slightly as she put her hands on his shoulders. “But, by thorns and brambles, you can and will help me kill this god.”

He backed up just enough so that he had space to salute. A reflex, soldier through and through.

At some point, Kas had drifted off, checking in on Canach, giving the two of them whatever privacy was possible. Kerra could feel their concern shining out, calming the waters.

“Rytlock.” He met her eyes. “You will not keep a secret like this ever again. Promise me.”

“Yes, Commander. I promise.” He shuffled his feet. “And for whatever it’s worth, Kerra—I’m sorry.”

“I know,” she said. “I don’t need to hear that, though. I need to see you do better. I do believe you can, you know.”

Rytlock grunted out a dry laugh. “You’re the first in a while, kid.”

“Deal with it,” Kerra said, her voice solid, but not cold.

“I guess I have to, don’t I?”

“Yes. You do.”

#gw2 #my fics #kerralind #rytlock #i-mybrunettelady #for some reason my brain saw this prompt and was like: yes! this specific bit of angst! have fun!#featuring canach and kas #and mentions of vlast and aurene #not featured: kerra absolutely breaking down listening to vlast's crystal messages later #kerra tries to save everyone and can't #so when she learns that she's lost an opportunity to save this many #innocents and on TOP of that #has lost an opportunity to spare her daughter pain #she. is. INCREDIBLY upset.

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likemesomesalads · 6 years ago

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I know I keep reblogging ask games from you from my GW2 blog and I always feel guilty about not asking you one of them. I just don't know anything about your characters, but I want to. Might I indulge you to tell me about the lovelies?

This will be a Long one since I have many of them and not all of them is fully flushed out, but here I go!

First up my main: Thoernen:

He is a thief, literally, his occupation in his first 8 years was a thief. He ran away from his Wyld Hunt in fear of death and for years he tried to avoid any contact with undead or other dragon minions (not always successfully but always letting others solve the problems). Alas, in the end, he got baited into joining the Vigil and from there as a vigil soldier he worked against Zhaitan, eventually (following the personal story) forming the Pact with Trahearne and becoming the Commander. After defeating Zhaitan he got a bit more confident in his work so continued to be the Pact Commander, forming a brotherly bond with Trahearne. Which made it really hard for him once he had to kill him in HoT. In the jungle, he also lost sight in his left eye and got several scars which made him look as miserable as he felt. Also in Maguuma, he saved an ex-mordrem, Dau who later ends up being his dear heart. Personality wise as a sapling he is cheerful and keeps up the sight of that even after he runs away from the Grove and becomes Soundless, though as he fulfills his Wyld Hunt he gets more serious and broken even, especially after All or Nothing. He can’t take Aurene’s Death and steps off as Commander. he also loses his left arm because it was hit by a blast of Kralky’s and started to turn him branded, which he cuts off himself, not having anyone around. After he retired he and Dau moves back to the Grove to try and live peacefully.Aevelyhn:A helpful, tiny sylvari roaming Tyria and helping where she can. She doesn’t have a specific Wyld Hunt, rather she follows what she was in her Dream, which was helping others. She is often found in Divinity’s Reach, with her friend, Jaquline Du Ciel. She enjoys shopping for pretty dresses, dancing and practicing her elemental magic in her free time.Ainlon:A necromancer who awoken from the Dream with the face of Trahearne in his mind. He took it as a sign that he had to help him so after a few months of training himself, while Trahearne was in Orr and he waited for his return, Ain joined the Firstborn. It was a rocky learning curve to get used to living in Orr but he and Trahearne had a really good mentor-student, then a sort of brotherly relationship. He has a boyfriend, Quinlan back int he Grove who he always love to return to.Quinlan:Ainlon’s boyfriend and a gardener in the Grove. Mildly jealous of Trahearne being able to spend so much time with Ainlon, but knows Ain loves him and he trusts him.Sheara Swiftpaw:The leader of a Warband and member of the ash legion. Very skillful ranger has a pet stalker called Jul and loves hunting trips. She is very tomboyish and not very friendly, however, she does indeed have friends. A norn, called Rhaevee and an asura, Eaxxy.Eaxxy:Crewe leader in the college of dynamics. She loves to come up with new ideas which she usually forgets about as soon as she has the next, so her lab is full of half-finished projects and ideas. however, if she indeed finishes something than it’s the best it can be. She is rather sarcastic and loud. Has an unlikely friendship with Sheara and Rhaevee. Rhaevee:A journeywoman, who loves to travel and collect strange animals as pets. Has a big family with seven younger brothers. She is the only girl in the family which made her the protective big sister. She loves her family very much. They own a pub up in Shiverpeeks and make their own beer as well. Besides collecting animals she also loves to collect recipes from all across Tyria (and later Elona) and shares them with her mother who then tries to make them in the pub and home as well. She follows the Spirit of Raven yet her companion is a white wolf, called Morrigan. She saved Morrigen when he was a pup and his pack was slain by Sons of Svanir. She was led to the pup by a white raven. She is loud and strong, a true norn woman.Jaquline Du Ciel:A second born child in a noble family. She aspires to be a Shining blade member, currently a recruit, to be able to spend more time with her all-time crush so that she can live up to her idol, Countess Anise. Her best friend is Aevelyhn whom she loves to invite to tea and chat about the happenings in Tyria. She is a big lesbian and she does not hide this fact.Aeris Moonsong:Priory researcher and hobby gardener. She lives in Queensdale, near Divinity’s Reach and loves researching ancient artifacts. She also loves gardening but deadly scared of spiders.Cayde:Nightmare Courtier, Duke of Peonies or more commonly known as Dog of Faolain. He and his pod twin, Soléine were lured in a trap pretty much right after their awakening, by Inquest asuras. They both were curious and naive and paid the price for it. They were separated and experimented on. From the painful, torturous experiments Cayde turned to Nightmare and Faolain was there to welcome him. He has quite murderous tendencies and anger issues, resulting in him murdering many other courtiers and captives, for which Faolain had to assign a special ‘sapling sitter’ beside Cayde who can keep him in control. He is obsessively trying to turn her sister to Nightmare and kidnaps her from her loving home. Despite all of his flaws he has a boyfriend, @ascalonianpicnic‘s Aselif who he loves dearly and for whom he would do anything.Soléine:Cayde’s pod twin. She suffered the experimentations as well but was strong enough not to turn to nightmare, barely. She was saved by a group of soldiers, including Canach, who was the only one who could convince her to leave with them and the only one she actually sees as her savior. After she is rescued, she clings to him closely and they grow to love one another. She saves a half-dead fern hound in the human city and decides to take it home and heal him. and since then Isonos is by her side and she finds a passion for healing animals, learns more and becomes a vet. At the time when Canach is in Maguuma Cayde kidnaps her ( or more like commissions @mystery-salad‘s Aezlin to do it for him) and tortures her, trying to turn her. That nightmare ends when the Court falls apart and she can escape, having again zero trusts in people and clinging to Canach just as she did in the beginning. She is shy and soft and loves animals and Canach.Lusus Naturae: They are Cayde’s 'sapling sitter’. Their pod was taken from the tree by the Inquest working with the fresh Nightmare Court in 1307. The name of the project and the one they ended up having was: Lusus Naturae (aka. Freak of Nature). Their pod was just freshly sprouted so it had a lot of growing to do. Since they were severed from the Tree at such a young state they have no connection at all to the Dream, to the Pale tree or to other sylvari. It also caused them to take much longer to bloom. It took 16 years for them to be ready and when they were born, due to the lack of connection to the Dream, had the mentality of a newborn. The Inquest rectified the problem with connecting their brain to a computer and uploading the needed data which had them very confused for a while. (The implant which they used to do that is still embedded in the back of his neck.) After they were deemed to be a somewhat successful experiment, not counting that it took them way too long to awaken, and another series of tests, in which they tested their capabilities and discovered their fast regenerating abilities (tested for limb loss, high blood loss and many more which caused their Nociceptors to shut down, thus they are unable to feel pain.), the Court took them over and they worked for them ever since. First, they worked under a Duke who was a Mesmer and learned from them (eventually broadening their abilities and learning Chronomancy by themselves), but a few years later they were assigned to keep another Duke, Cayde in control for his murderous tendencies. They work with him ever since.Tristrham:A revenant who is not at all proud of his abilities. He got his revenant powers by letting his guildmates die in the Mists when they accidentally found a way there. He actually had to kill one of them himself to be able to escape. (He killed more but didn’t want to think about it and we don’t talk about it. They basically were killing each other due to illusions.) Since he is out of there and once he got used to the voices in his head he went on about in the world, working as a mercenary, ending up in the Heart of Maguuma, where he was fighting to not give in to the voice of Mordremoth. He pulled it off for quite a while and giving in practically just before he died, so he has a short mordrem past, of which he doesn’t remember nor he wants to. After the jungle, he took a little break, trying to relax and heal but eventually ended up joining the Pact and is there ever since.Xeneviev:A spy in the Grove for the Nightmare Court. He joined the court because he has a HUGE crush on (again) @mystery-salad‘s Aezlin and he didn’t have much of a love for his supposed to be purpose either. In the Dream, he saw himself in nothing more than endless fields and mud and he really wasn’t about that. He hated it to the core so it wasn’t hard for him to throw that away for something more intriguing. He loves fashion, Aezlin, doing his job right, Aezlin, designing outfits, Aezlin, looking good and, you guessed it, Aezlin.Dau:His full name is Daulion but he doesn’t like that, so just Dau. He was in an abusive relationship with a courtier, named Alvanil and it took him years to be able to run away. But as soon as he did Mordremoth awakened and he was too weak to not give in, so he became a mordrem. He doesn’t have a lot of memories from that time but he still fears that he’ll turn mordrem again even after the dragon’s defeat. Thoernen saved him in the jungle after he successfully killed the jungle dragon and he fell for him at first sight. He joined the Pact and started to follow around the Commander, lending him a lot of emotional support in the desert, during PoF and they slowly formed mutual feelings and got together. Alvanil:Dau’s cruel, abusive Courtier ex-boyfriend. He loves to make others suffer, especially if they are weaker than him. Not many characteristics, only that he is an asshole. Gotta work on him more.Saberlily:Naive little sapling turned to Nightmare by Gavin, who is her mentor now. She kept her cheeriness even in Nightmare as she thinks there is nothing wrong with how the Court thinks. They want to free the sylvari and anyway, other sylvari do bad things too for no apparent reason. She loves sharp and shiny things. Has a very weird obsession with sharp weapons.Asteracéa:A soundless sylvari courtesan, living in Divinity’s Reach. He had to use his body as payment once he was stuck up in the mountains with no money or anything. (Not like he really had to have to but that was the first thought he had and it worked.) He ended up there by hiding from the Nightmare Court in a caravan. Ever since then he hasn’t returned to Caledon Forest and is a greedy, but highly requested courtesan. He loves to be fancy and even figured out a way to change the color of his body without much hassle. Has a roommate I am yet to name but he loves to hang out with him in his free time. He also obviously very much likes his job and the activities coming with it.Philix:A sweet, furry teenager, raised by two lesbian salads in Lion’s Arch. Works on the docks and as a part-time tour guide. Loves to get in trouble out of work and flirts a lot around. A true teenager.This two is not yet up in my character list, because I am lazy but:Endellion:You can call him En, Endy or Lion. Anything goes with him. He is a hairdresser/foliage dresser? He loves his job a lot and doesn’t just excel at sylvari foliages he is great with hair or fur too. Residential in the Grove or Mabon Market from time to time. A cheerful sunshine salad.Dhealaichte:He is Trahearne but not really. He is his reincarnation. Looks and sounds alike has his memories as well, but not his abilities. He bloomed a few years after the defeat of Mordremoth with the name Trahearne but he decided to change when he had enough of being compared to his previous life. He has no memory of his Dream this time though so he doesn’t have a Wyld Hunt. Once Dheal was full of everyone wanting him to be someone he isn’t he left to discover Tyra for himself and then stayed in Lion’s Arch for a while, working and eventually learning to be a doctor. As the elonian refugees’ numbers grew he decided to go to Elona and help there, so as of now he is in Amnoon doing his best to help people.

#I started writing this last night but I was too tired to finish so..here it is now #all my children so far #there are a lot of them that needs some more thougt put into but I'll work on em eventually

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