#duke barradin

[anghraine]

Meanwhile: I have so much I have to do, and so much I want to do, and suddenly my brain was possessed by an incredibly niche AU fanfic plotbunny.

It's not only for the Guild Wars video games (hardly the most popular series out there!), and not only GW1 fic in particular (the first game was on a far smaller scale than GW2 and had a much smaller userbase with maybe five fics on AO3). The fic concept specifically appeals to me as a way to unfridge Althea Barradin, an NPC I latched onto in 2005 out of all proportion to her screentime and frankly how well her lines were written. But it's not only that she's an underwritten GW1 character, or even just that she's one who only appears in Guild Wars: Prophecies—the very first GW game. She's actually only alive in the tutorial zone and is a mentor to PCs of one specific class that happens to be my personal favorite, mesmers (they're elegant spellcasters specializing in chaos magic, illusion magic, and other sneaky, unpredictable stuff).

There's a cataclysmic war crime committed against your people at the end of the tutorial, and a time jump to two years later, when you discover that Althea disappeared in all the upheaval and has not been seen since. You get a quest to discover what happened to her, only to find out that the answer is "dragged off and burned alive by the war criminal invaders." The worst resolution for my teenage pixel crush :( Anyway, you briefly interact with her ghost and gather her ashes to take to her father so both of them can find some kind of peace.

BUT

I sometimes think about how Althea's father (Duke Barradin) was originally next in line in the royal succession. He has already stepped aside for a popular war hero to become king instead when GW1 starts, and there's even a quest in the tutorial to make sure he and his people are faithful to the war hero king, Adelbern. At that point, Adelbern seems to be a good stabilizing authority figure after a lot of internal conflict, but he can be a bit short-sighted and self-aggrandizing in ways that become disastrous when his subjects are massacred in a massive magical attack that devastates the land and people (even GW2 acknowledges that this was so destructive that the aqueducts ran red with the blood of his people).

Adelbern is very obviously not equipped to handle the absolutely dire situation he ends up facing. He's already snapping under this incredible strain in GW1 and disowns his adult son (and it seems only child) for rightly questioning him, only to break even further when said son dies tragically. From what can be pieced together, he only went further downhill after that, becoming more unreasonable, absolutist, and desperate until he completely lost his mind.

Meanwhile, Duke Barradin—Althea's father and the guy who got skipped over for Adelbern in the first place—seems a far steadier and less egocentric figure. He gracefully accepted Adelbern as king before the game, and serves him with loyalty and discipline for the rest of his life, rather than taking Adelbern's ascension as a personal affront or holding a grudge or turning on him in the face of his own tragedies or anything. So I occasionally wonder what would have happened if Ascalon had kept to the traditional succession and Duke Barradin had become the next king, rather than Adelbern.

The cataclysm and invasion still would happen, but I think Duke Barradin would have been more resilient and less obsessed with his personal power and authority. He seems deeply fond of his daughter and I suspect wouldn't have disowned her over a tactical disagreement. Basically, from everything we saw of this guy, I think he'd have handled this situation a lot better than Adelbern—but this is such a niche scenario that requires so much information that I didn't feel like writing it.

But yesterday I was re-reading an idle post I'd made a couple of years ago that mentioned the concept in passing and suddenly realized that in that scenario, Althea would have been the heir rather than her canonical fiancé, Prince Rurik. Instead of tragic war victim Althea whose awful, awful death in an atrocity of war matters mostly because of how terrible her father and fiancé feel about it, she would be Princess Althea, the heir to a now desperate and struggling kingdom. We'd get Althea prioritizing saving her people above everything else, while Rurik gets the horrible death that illustrates the stakes of the war.

In a way, that would even make a bit more sense, logistically. In the game, Althea is a fancy illusionist strongly associated with her theatre just outside of Ascalon City, at this point the seat of Ascalonian power. Even after all this devastation, it took decades for the Charr armies to get far enough into Ascalon to seriously besiege it (before the remaining population was reduced to undying vengeful ghosts, too). It's not beyond belief that a warband could have reached the theatre, and it's also possible that Althea might have been in a more dangerous location at the time of the Searing, since lots of people were dragged off, including children. Just a bit odd in terms of where you would expect a fancy civilian noblewoman specifically to be, even a powerful and highly skilled spellcaster like Althea.

Rurik, on the other hand, is an intimidating warrior, and he's heavily involved with Ascalon's military, especially the Ascalon Vanguard that he himself leads. There's every reason for him to be fairly near the battle lines even without expecting the Searing. The fact that he's one of the main leaders of the Ascalonian military defense would hardly save him from being sacrificed in this terrible way.

(And this might still be a better end than the one he actually gets in canon, in which he's resurrected as an undead servant and forced to serve an evil lich until you kill him for good, freeing him. Getting reduced to ash by the Charr would at least spare him that.)

Despite a certain degree of pathos, though, Rurik was always a bit annoying IMO. He is a very archetypal honorable warrior dude, not as hidebound as Adelbern nor as blind to the reality of the threat they're facing, but his personal approach still tends towards an attitude of "if hitting my problems with my sword doesn't solve them, I didn't hit them hard enough." The PCs really have to handle anything that needs more diplomacy or subtlety.

Althea, though, is a very different kind of person—subtle, tricky, versatile—so I don't think a Princess Althea would necessarily be nailed to the same path as Prince Rurik is in canon. Mesmers in GW2 canonically use their powers of illusion to make themselves appear they're in a particular place when in reality they're skulking invisibly somewhere else, which could easily keep her from being an identifiable target where Rurik was striding around a snowscape with a giant flaming sword when he was killed. I don't think the premise requires Princess Althea dying the same way at all.

I can imagine, for instance, that the AU king might send a reliable, competent, and trusted figure like Althea to ensure the refugees get across the mountains, especially if he wants Althea "safely" out of the country. But as an illusionist, Althea could definitely take precautions that were not available to Rurik, and would be expected to do so.

So there's this whole "okay, if Althea isn't killed like in canon or even like Rurik is in canon, and I manage to completely unfridge her, how does her survival and the AU in general affect the GW1 plot? What is changed about the later canon revelations of what's going on in this era from Eye of the North and GW2?"

I don't have time for this and it's so incredibly specific that it's difficult to even explain to anyone else, but it's also possessing my brain ;_;

[skaald-of-the-hearth-fires]

DoF:RefTE chapter 5 - Throwing Fire

Dreams of Freedom: Reforging the Edge

Chapter five: Throwing Fire | (AO3 link)

Across the Shiverpeak Mountains, in the once-human land of Ascalon, Tribune Rytlock Brimstone lashes his tail impatiently. He has only half the force he needs to take on the ghost of the human Duke Barradin - and half of the force he has isn't even Blood Legion. “Where’s Centurion Krysknife?” Rytlock rumbles to the charr behind him.

The soldiers shift nervously on their feet, claws clicking on stone, and avoid his eyes. Several of them have twitching ears. The highest-ranking charr - a Blood captain - mumbles, “I don’t know, Tribune.”

“What’s that, soldier?” Rytlock demands.

The captain clears his throat. “I said, I don’t know, Tribune.”

Rytlock snarls to himself and turns his back, glancing quickly over the non-Blood troops as he does so. Quite aside from the additional troops under Centurion Krysknife’s command, and regardless of the fact that Rytlock outranks him, things will run more smoothly if the Iron soldiers have an Iron leader to look to. And having a guardian on the team, at that.

Rytlock hates waiting on guardians. Reminds him of Logan. His replacement Blood Legion pendant shifts in his fur. Rytlock wants to claw it out and throw it away. But he doesn't, and instead turnes to glower through the archway into Barradin's chamber.

At the far end, the chamber contains a coffin, topped by a grandiose statue in the prideful human style. The room is shrouded in darkness, illuminated only by the sickly-blue glow of the Ascalonian ghosts. No telling how many, of course - the bloody things prefer staying hidden, unformed trailings of mist drifting about.

The underground crypt is getting on Rytlock’s nerves, and waiting had never been his strong suit - he thirsts for Barradin’s blood... metaphorically, of course. Stupid ghosts don’t even bleed right. Barradin and his ghost army had been sieging the Black Citadel for weeks, in enough numbers that they can’t be killed quickly enough to matter, and Rytlock is about fed up with fighting off enemies that come back a few days later. Defeating Barradin himself will, hopefully at least, cause the other ghosts to scatter.

A surge of ephemeral pain that is beyond the physical shoots through him, and he clutches at his chest in pain, claws passing through a transparent blue blade. Rytlock roars and spins around, ripping his own sword out of its stone sheath. Fiery blade in his claws, Rytlock slashes repeatedly at the human ghost until it disintegrates, then angrily slams the flaming sword back into its sheath.

Not even Sohothin kills the Ascalonian ghosts easily, and it is brother to the sword that created them in the first place!

More ghosts spring up, and the rest of his soldiers spread out to tackle them as more periodically materialize out of thin air - probably reforming from the last time they’d been killed a few days ago. What a blight on Ascalon… !

Rytlock slashes through the ghosts angrily. His soldiers fall back and let him take the killshot on each ethereal foe. Although each ghost has a different reform timer, killing them with sohothin does cause them to take longer to reform. A day instead of a few hours, a week instead of a few days. That's a hint right there that Sohothin is linked to its brother-sword somehow, and to the curse of the Ascalonian ghosts.

Half-a-dozen charr die in the battle, but when the ghosts are cleared, there is still no sign of Centurion Krysknife. Rytlock is about ready to charge Barradin’s tomb, reinforcements or no reinforcements. They’re losing soldiers by the minute in this siege, soldiers that Black Citadel leadership - including, no, especially Rytlock - can’t afford to lose.

He fumes for a minute in silence. The ghosts don’t threaten Ascalon themselves - the charr had defeated the humans once already. But the charr fight on other battlefields, too - the minions of an Elder Dragon have been only too eager to overcome steadily weakening defenses. This - none of this would even be an issue if Logan had stayed. The brass had been keeping it from the soldiers, but Ascalon doesn't have much time left. A solution to at least one of the three major threats to the Legions has to be found, and soon. Preferably the ghosts - they're the most annoying and least beneficial to kkill. A permananet solution would be... lovely. 'Till then, temporary solutions are the best to be had.

That’s why he, a Blood Legion Tribune and the feared wielder of Sohothin, is leading this mission to put a stop to this siege, and not Centurion Krysknife, who apparently wasn’t going to show up anyway -

Just then, the sound of many claws clicking on stone reverberates throughout the crypt. Rytlock doesn’t wait for them to arrive and starts speaking immediately.

“Fall in, soldiers! It’s time to remind these ghosts who’s in charge.” Rytlock is about to go on, when the newcomers - a mix of the three Legions but predominantly Blood - round the corner. They are led, not by Krysknife, but by another Iron Legion soldier, a well-armored charr with rust-colored fur and a big bulky backpack probably filled with odds and ends of machinery. No evidence of him being a guardian. Scorch it. Rytlock nearly snaps at him to ask where Krysknife is, but it isn’t relevant. This Iron soldier is in the lead of Krysknife’s forces - if Krysknife couldn’t come, he couldn’t come. He continues, “we’re going to hit Barradin so hard it’ll take him weeks to reappear! Move out!”

Fuming, Rytlock leads the way into the last chamber. As the troops separate into their warbands, that Iron soldier remains alone. He doesn’t have a warband. Krysknife had sent him a bloody gladium. A gladium to lead his warbands! Well, no - Rytlock would have to lead Krysknife’s command, on top of the others. He snarls. He’d asked for a qualified Centurion for a reason!

…but at least, Rytlock muses, pulling out his pistol and aiming for the ghosts that are charging his position, at least Krysknife sent someone, and at least that someone came. The loyalty of a charr is hard to break. Not fickle like certain humans he could name. He resentfully unloads a few rounds from his pistol into one of the ghosts, picturing it with the face of Logan Thackeray.

Now that's satisfying. The ghosts blindly charge his position, and Rytlock gladly engages them, slashing wildly with fiery Sohothin, tearing them apart, picturing each one with Logan's face. He'd destroyed any hope Destiny's Edge had of killing the Elder Dragon. He's the reason for the force of dragon minions embedded within Ascalon. He'd betrayed Rytlock's trust... Rytlock had given him his Blood pendant, and he deserted!

Rytlock slashes through the ghosts mercilessly. His allies give his flaming sword a wide berth.

A new wave of ghosts appears, and Rytlock shouts to the soldiers behind him, “dig in and stand fast!” The charr spread apart in a line, waiting for the ghosts to come to them. There’s the Iron gladium on the end of the line, wielding a flamethrower, scorching the ghosts as they approach him. He seems to be holding his own, so Rytlock ignores him and fires more pistol rounds into the ghosts as they charge, switching to Sohothin as they get inside the flaming sword’s range. A few hot minutes later, the ghost onslaught fades and, finally, ceases.

For a moment, all is still. Rytlock breaks the formation and strides toward the statue.

Immediately, more ghosts coalesce out of nowhere.

“Rally to me!” Rytlock roars, now charging, slashing with Sohothin. “Cut them down, stomp them flat.” The line of charr breaks and surges forward, ramming into the ghosts and tearing them apart. They converge on Rytlock and the loose collection of warbands face off against the ghosts as the incorporeal forms flood around and surround them.

Rytlock finds himself fighting side-by-side with the Iron gladium. He is a blur of rust-colored fur and flames. Rytlock can’t help but approve, grudgingly, of the gladium’s choice of weapon. Most charr would avoid fire as a matter of course, but this one had embraced it. Rytlock’s own Sohothin is looked at in fear and awe by other charr (something Rytlock quite enjoys), but this one joins him fearlessly.

The last wave of ghosts is defeated, but the respite is brief; Rytlock grins in satisfaction as the form of Duke Barradin coalesces in the center of the chamber, ringed by ghostly attendants and guards. Barradin roars, his voice distorted by ethereal matter; “filthy animals! You will regret this!”

Rytlock doesn’t need to repeat his orders; the charr surge forward, some bounding on all fours, weapons flashing, firing, and slashing. Rytlock makes straight for Barradin while his troops finish off the ancient duke’s coterie of ghosts. This is his task. Rytlock bares his fangs in a snarl as he ducks Barradin’s swings and returns the favor, tearing ethereal matter from Barradin’s form in raggedy trails. The other charr surround and flank Barradin, and he is pierced by a dozen blades.

Finally, his form wavering with instability and wreathed in flames, Barradin turns and flees intangibly through the mass of charr behind him, toward his tomb and statue. The charr make way for Rytlock, none wanting to accidentally deal the final blow to their quarry.

But suddenly the statue above them creaks, groans, shifts; Barradin’s ghost vanishes; and ghostly energy flares from the statue, from its mouth, eye-holes, and every stony joint of its massive chest. The statue swings a huge sword in one hand and a massive fist with the other, and smashes down upon the warbands, crushing and scattering them. It roars in Barradin’s ghostly voice, “I will not be defeated! I will destroy you all!”

Rytlock rises from the ground with aches that will become bruises later, and hoists Sohothin high. “You lost this war long ago!” he roars, “and we’ll kill you until you get the point!” His soldiers roar in return and charge the statue. Rytlock clambers atop the tomb, making sure to keep his claws out so as to disfigure the regal human relic, and wedges Sohothin between the statue’s stones, prying them apart.

The charr bash the stones, smashing them. The rust-furred gladium ratchets up the heat on his flamethrower. Barradin howls.

“We burned down his kingdom and buried the ashes!” Rytlock roars. “Make him remember that day!” The day his own king turned him into a mindless, vengeful ghost rather than admit defeat - yeah, that's gotta be a pleasant memory. He yanks Sohothin around inside the statue, and Barradin roars, swinging wildly, flinging charr across the room.

Flamethrower boy dodges and climbs up beside Rytlock and then continues clambering up the statue, despite the heavy backpack with the machinery of the flamethrower. He finally reaches the top and wrestles his flamethrower around to blast Barradin in the face at full heat. A cheer comes from the doorway behind them.

Barradin claws at his face in agony and flings the gladium to the floor, where he crumples.

“Forward, Legions!” Rytlock shouts, glancing back at his scattered soldiers. “Finish him!”

There is a new charr, white-furred, barreling across the floor from the doorway, a massive sword held high, a snarl on his face. He pauses a moment next to the flamethrower-wielding gladium - hm… perhaps no gladium after all - who stirs and seems to speak, before the white-furred arrival joins the other charr as they surge forward. Rytlock turns back to the statue as they reach him, and stabs Sohothin into any available hole in the statue.

Stones are smashed, and the ghost roars in agony. Stones are dislodged, and the statue wavers. Its base is cut out from beneath it, and it falls, stones raining down around Rytlock and piling up past the tomb he stands on. He leaps out of the way, landing ten feet away on all fours as pieces of the statue continue to rain down. Last of all, Barradin’s fire-scorched head lands with a thud on the mound of the ruins of the statue.

Rytlock rears upright on his hind legs and stretches head and shoulders above the other charr, looking around at his soldiers in grim satisfaction. Flamethrower boy is getting up, and his white-furred maybe-warbandmate is hovering anxiously next to him. There is no sign of any more ghosts, and the other soldiers are gathering around, looking to him for next actions. Rytlock returns to a natural position and grins at them. “Mission accomplished. You’re heroes now, boys and girls; congratulations.”

The soldiers roar in victory, but while this battle is won, it remains to be seen if defeating Duke Barradin had ended the siege outside the crypt. Motion catches Rytlock’s eye as Barradin’s head rolls off the pile of rubble and across the floor. Rytlock frowns, realizing that the rumble from the falling statue had not stopped, and indeed is getting stronger. “Report back to Smokestead!” he barks.

“Yes, Tribune!” comes the chorus of replies.

Rytlock sheathes Sohothin, its flaming length disappearing inside the stone scabbard. Rytlock drops to all fours, and bounds towards the door, followed by his warbands. Rytlock spares a glance for the Iron soldier - that flamethrower-to-the-face trick was impressive - but he seems to have recovered nicely and is running alongside the others.

Rytlock chooses the most direct way out of the crypt, avoiding the side passages. Occasionally another ghost pops up, but each charr gives it a slash of their claws and by the time the whole column passes, the ghost is dispersed.

Emerging outside the crypt, Rytlock sees that the ghosts attacking Smokestead seem to have retreated at the death of their leader, and the charr are regrouping. Rytlock turns to his troops, grinning again. They’d done it. The ghosts are gone and the Black Citadel is safe. It won’t be overrun today, not by long-dead humans or by other foes - Rytlock envisions dragon minions bleeding out of a miles-long scar in Ascalon, and bares his fangs in a grin. The battles aren’t over yet.

But for now, Rytlock’s troops had earned their victory. “Report to Smokestead,” Rytlock repeats. The crypt collapses with a loud rumble as the soldiers salute. Aah, and maybe that ghostly mouse won’t be reforming at all. That’d be something indeed. One can hope, at least. The charr scatter, heading to meet up with their respective legionnaires and centurions.

One rust-furred, flamethrower-wielding Iron Legion soldier stays behind, frozen, staring at the entrance to what is now rubble. Now is as good a time as any. “Name and rank, soldier.”

“Howl was in there,” the soldier says irrelevantly, still staring.

Rytlock snarls. “Unless this ‘Howl’ was a ‘bandmate of yours, I want your name and rank, soldier.”

“Yes, sir! Sorry, sir.” The soldier turns to Rytlock and salutes. “I’m Vargok Hellforge, of the Forge Warband. Howl was my legionnaire.”

“I see.” It’s always unfortunate to lose a ‘bandmate, but in Rytlock’s estimation, this Hellforge fellow is decent enough to replace him. He doesn’t know the warband, though, and that’s not his call. “I assume Krysknife was your centurion?”

“Yes, sir. I don’t think he survived.”

“He didn’t,” Rytlock snorts, “if he had to send a soldier without any leadership experience to lead his troops to a pivotal battle. But you did an admirable job. I like your flamethrower; innovative, thinks outside the box. Find the rest of your warband and report to your Tribune.”

“Yes, sir!”

Rytlock turns away. Now these ghosts are dealt with, at least - for now - and the Legions can focus on the dragon minions in eastern Ascalon. At least until the ghost forces recover... Rytlock stomps toward the Village of Smokestead and the gate to the Black Citadel, lashing his tail. He needs a breakthrough. There has to be some way of reversing the curse of the Ascalonian ghosts.

Or at least, some way of slowing them down. Rytlock passes warbands gathering, repairing damage, rebuilding defenses. The dragons are only getting more bold and more powerful, and with the ghosts participating in the war of attrition to wear down the charr Legions...

Well, this situation isn't tenable. Something has to change. Rytlock's research on the curse that turned the humans to ghosts two centuries ago... hadn't been going well lately. Absolutely no clues on if Sohothin could help reverse the curse its twin had cast. And the Legions don't have long left.

If only there was a band-aid solution to tide them over... something to nudge them into a holding pattern, at least...

Who am I kidding?

Rytlock has two leads, and two only: the myth, untenable and unsupported, that his sword Sohothin has the power to reverse the curse; or the proven strategy of teaming up with Destiny's Edge and Logan-flaming-Thackeray, and slaying the Elder Dragon outright.

Rytlock would take the myth.

[bigsnaff]

When the village of Smokestead trembled as the colossal statue of Duke Barradin collapsed from underneath, a weary asura stepped out from the Lion's Arch gate in the Black Citadel and made his way to the village, unknowing of the assault.

Cyna Crystalclaw's legionarre rank, stripped from her upon the death of two of her 'bandmates under her charge whilst battling the Branded over a year ago, was unceremoniously re-granted when the former legionarre of the Crystal warband, Howl the Brazen, ate solid stone as the catacombs collapsed on top of him.

The asura and charr passed as they headed in opposite directions — the charr to report to her centurion, and the asura slowly making his way to his workshop in the village. The remnants of a loss clung to both of their features as their gaze crossed one another's, but they said nothing.

The asura had returned from the ruins of a recently-destroyed asuran city, where the loss of his firstborn son, among many others, plagued his heart. But it had been a year of mourning, and he decided that it was time to return to work and regain a sense of normalcy. He departed from his daughter, who in turn returned to the Durmand Priory to advance her apprenticeship, and him to Ascalon.

A week later, Cyna would be given the news that her sire had unremarkably passed from an infected wound, and being such a decorated soldier as him, he would receive a ceremonial funeral by pyre that she was expected to attend.

Cyna had scarcely known her sire. This was not uncommon for charr. In the man's eyes glistened a lost favor for her that had not left ever since the death of Cyna's younger brother-by-blood at a botched mission into the Dragonbrand — the same incident that caused her the stripping of her legionarre rank.

Nonetheless, she desired to retain her rank this time, and so, despite her better judgment, she attended the funeral — and gazed, emotionless, into the bleeding sky, as the former Centurion faded into ash — as all eventually would.

Days passed, and following the Smokestead Assault, the Legionarre Cyna Crystalclaw now had a reputation for smashing ghosts. Her centurion soon contracted an individual with a penchant for building machinery that was similarly adept at such a task. Cyna was then forcibly partnered with a very strange asura that smelled of oil and iron.

The individual was Dokks; the same asura she had passed on the day she helped to fell Duke Barradin. The two recognized one another, and this time, Dokks smiled. Cyna did not.

But Dokks was nothing if not persistent. As the two worked together to arrange a plan that would ideally prevent another ghostly assault on Smokestead, Dokks would talk with Cyna. Her cold exterior scarcely seemed to phase him. He would talk of his cubs — his progeny. He would crack jokes, and try to lure Cyna into them as well. He would ask her questions of her interests and ideals, to which Cyna's answers, if any at all, were short and curt.

But slowly she warmed to him. She became fascinated by his outlook, and inquired as to what led an asura to the High Legions. A traveler, she finds out, to which an agreement was struck between him and the Iron Legion. Limitless resources — all for his expertise.

Dokks' presence became a comfort to her; a warm face, of such things in the Legions were rare, and directed at her even rarer. And if Cyna discreetly inquired to her centurion that her and Dokks' partnership to be extended, well, she'd never tell.

Cyna would eventually be handed a letter. A posthumous missive from her sire. Through the contents she discovered that his sole inheritance to her was a glorified treasure hunt. She grit her teeth as she crumpled the letter in her hands and stamped it into the dirt. She would never find the Diessa Chalice that Argus Foolkiller left to her.

After the sudden and bizarre desecration of Howl the Brazen's grave occurred, Cyna was tasked with joining the Order of Whispers. And so it was she said goodbye to her warband — for a time, of course; she would undoubtedly return once a proper link was established between the Order and the High Legions. But she also said goodbye to Dokks, of whom she had more doubts of seeing again — though she didn't expect her heartstrings to be plucked so deeply at the realization.

And it seemed almost a lifetime passed within less than a year, as Cyna rose through the ranks of the Order, lost yet another friend upon Tybalt Leftpaw's sacrifice, and became, perhaps, another form of legionarre, after the retaking of Claw Island, standing beside the sylvari Trahearne.

When she first entered through the gates of a reconstructed fortress that she now commanded, she heard a familiar, chipper voice beckon her — and she smiled as she knelt down to greet her friend.

[alta1r1an]

Catpost: Zavrik Duskbringer

He's been around a while now! and you've seen him too! but now it is time for me to *tell* you about Zavrik Duskbringer.

29 at the time for it to roll into 1325 AE, an ash legion soldier of the Dusk warband that at the time was on assignment in the area of the Black Citadel. Called to the front to assist in yet another one of the Citadel's engagement with the ghosts, he tragically lost most of his warband and was forced to rebuild it.

During the fight against Duke Barradin he made the acquaintance of one Tribune Brimstone. A connection that would aid him in the very next investigation he as an ash legion soldier would undertake: A flame legion plot against the citadel. It continues from there (i.e. I havent really written most of it yet)

Zavrik is... atypical on the surface on what you'd come to expect from an Ash soldier. Warm, extroverted, happy for a good scrap and lover of a good party.

However none of those traits come with him being trusting or one to make genuine connections. Everything he does is for his objective. He's safer with everyone at a distance, easier to do his work when he can exploit close relations without being bound by them.

That also makes him: a flirt, a talented drinker. Even a certain Tribune he makes friends with! But he hasn't done a single hookup without leaving the bed cold in the morning.

I am, excited, to try and drag him through the story. It has been years since I did a playthrough of gw2 (the last time was when it was coming out! in high school for me!). This time I get to do it with a pretty Charr who is hopefully going to be a loveable disaster.

[i-mybrunettelady]

2, 3 and 4 for the human OC(s) that has the most interesting answers 👀

hello!! funnily enough that one goes to nyra (and to a certain extent, all of them so i'll mix it up here)

2. What's their family like? Are they still around? Do they like them and get along?

renira: ren's family is dead. ren follows the "never looked for my true parents" option but what's interesting about them is that renira herself - then named vera - was not born in divinity's reach; rather she was born somewhere in kryta as her parents were looking for a safe place to raise a family. but since they failed to do so, they left their 6 month old daughter at the door of an orphanage under the name vera belenne-svetovid. it's a name that cannot be tied to anyone, not even them, and it was their hope that she would be able to live a safe life like that!

their names were auguste and octavia. here's a lil more about them. auguste is a krytan with some ascalonian blood in him while octavia is purely krytan!

nyra: nyra's family is just ye olde aristocratic family who loves their kids. nyra likes her fam very much. she is close to her older sister deborah and looked up to her when she was a kid. her younger brother leyiton recently got married. deborah is married and has 2 kids who nyra loves to dote on. here's more on her parents! she only really had issues growing up with her ministerial grandfather, eldon, who is an ascalonian local hero and who she very much took after, so thry butt heads a lot. they're less confrontational these days, though.

3. Of what descent are they? Does all of their family come from the same region or are they mixed? Does it influence them much?

nyra is 100% ascalonian, but she considers herself krytan-ascalonian because she was born and raised in kryta and speaks a krytan dialect of ascalonian.

nika is of orrian (from dad's side) and krytan-elonian (mom's side) descent.

renira is mixed; she is largely krytan but has some ascalonian in her via her father. the rest she has no idea about because it's just not relevant to her.

4. Do they have any particularly (in)famous or historically relevant ancestors? Does it matter to them?

aside from eldon, nyra is descended from king doric through duke barradin's brother, which makes her related to lady althea! she doesn't utilise this connection but like if i were more evil she could be fucking up them bloodstones tho

nika is descended from the hero of nightfall through his mom, and in my verse that's a very placeholder type lady named raet berenike. that's all i know of her lmao

[brightwingedbat]

Meet Tharrhon "Rhon" Lionheart. Commander, one of a different universe to Nastazya.

22 years old in 1325 AE, he's an Iron Legion soldier who serves as the bodyguard of his warband, the Heart Warband. Keeping enemies distracted so that his warband can unleash the ammo rain.

He earned his warband name for his dignity and bravery, "like a lion." His warband had nothing to fear with him nearby, sadly due to a Centurion's order he was not able to protect them in the assault on Duke Barradin, leaving only his warbandmate Euryale Fireheart standing beside him on returning from the battle.

Battered and in low spirits, but not broken. He gets promoted to Legionnaire as he works on rebuilding his warband, and setting forth on his path to be Commander.

[skirmishing-barnstormer]

oh look, I finally post a blorbo ooooOOOOOHHH SHNAP

Anyway, this is Calanthe Roanstroke, my oldest and most well traveled character. I'm still working on a story for her, but I like the idea of her and the Roan warband being sentinels along Kralk's path before being called to Smokestead for the assault against Duke Barradin.

I still dunno what I'm doing with her armor and design, I just know that around LWS4 when an olmakhan healed her/revived her its how her horns got glowy, and now shes stuck with them haha

[wall-legion]

The Last of the First: Garrus Firstblood

Garrus was born the second of a litter of triplets to sire Vitus Bladesight and dam Domitia Nightcaster, and it was said to be lucky that she was an experienced dam at that point in her life because it was a difficult litter to bear and bring into the world. Garrus and his one of his two sisters, Fausta, survived: the runt, Horatia, would not. Such was the way of the world with litters that produced multiple cubs. Garrus was unremarkable when he was a young cub. He was polite and minded his elders, to be sure; he engaged with the other cubs his age in all the right ways; and when it came time for his entry into the fahrars he made it into a respectable enough one that made his parents proud. If one were looking for evidence of a future savior of Tyria that far back, one would be hard pressed to find any proof of concept. It was as he progressed in the fahrar that his true talents began to emerge. He had a knack for getting animals to trust him due to his quiet, patient nature. He was able to disappear into a crowd, in spite of his increasing height and horn length. His tracking skills became the talk of the higher-ups, in the fahrar and beyond. There were mentions of those in his extended family: “he’s the nephew of Liath Slaughterclaw, you know,” legionnaires would say in passing as they started talking about whether or not to recruit the young charr as the time grew closer. He found a group of friends in his fahrar, his first “practice warband” before they would be recruited into a larger one. They fought like they had always fought as a unit together. The legionnaires now truly sat up and took notice. At recruitment, Garrus was one of the first to be announced, called into the Ash Legion and recruited into the almost legendary First warband. He couldn’t believe his ears when everything was said and done; more so when his “practice” group was also recruited with him. It was like a dream come true. For a few weeks, everything seemed like it was going the way it should be. They were training with the First, they were outfitted with their new kits, and they had moved into their new quarters. They were given their official names, now that they were in the warband: Garrus remembered asking naively if the Blood Legion would be upset that he had been given the name Firstblood, and the old Ash legionnaire who had named him just laughed and laughed in response. Then there was the announcement: they were taking on a human ghost, someone called Duke Barradin, in his own tomb the next day. It was one ghost. How bad could it be? The answer would prove to be “very, very bad”, Garrus would think in retrospect, trying to not recall walking past crushed bodies or hearing muffled voices screaming for help under dusty rubble. Trying to not relive the memory of looking at Aulus Firstdawn, an elementalist his dam’s age, who had been singing something bawdy and racist about humans one moment and the next was just gone under a wall, and the weird vacuum that was the silence that followed. He helped get out who he could, but the legionnaires called for them to fall back after a while. Anyone who was left would be retrieved at a later date. But Garrus had performed so outstandingly, and in front of Rytlock Brimstone! Rytlock himself was impressed with the young charr and said he should be made legionnaire, to replace one of the ones who had died in the assault! Garrus returned to barracks, laid on his bunk still covered in grime and dust from the tomb, and tried to not weep like the cub he felt like. So many had asked him if he thought that was exciting: it wasn’t. It was horrifying. He did want to serve his warband, his legion, his people, but not at the expense of others dying. Not like this. But the wheels turned, and as a cog in the machine, Garrus turned with them. He was made legionnaire and, as it turned out, Rytlock had other and greater plans for the Ash Legion upstart who proved himself quick and clever in the tomb. Suddenly it wasn’t just legionnaire, it was going with Rytlock to Lion’s Arch whenever he met with (or, Garrus thought, perhaps “clashed with” would be more appropriate) his old guild. It was after one of these “visits” that Garrus decided he needed some time away from... well, everyone. He loaded up on supplies, and headed out into the fields with his pet at his heels. He was perfectly content that day to just spend some time training with his stalker, making sure that they were in tune with each other, and instead he found himself helping to defend an asura from a Flame Legion shaman. When it rains it pours, I guess, he mused, as he listened to her prattle for a bit before he could finally introduce himself. Her name was Qirri of Pazz. He wondered where Pazz was. It took a bit before he learned that asura introduced themselves as from their more accomplished parent, and Pazz was her sire. He never told her that he originally thought that her father was her hometown. He probably never will. Then it was “oh Garrus, you should meet with the three Orders; they have a conflict and I’d like your input on it”, which turned into him having to pick an Order to join. Naturally he chose Whispers; it was the closest to Ash Legion so it felt like a good fit for his skills. Qirri chose the Priory, and suddenly he had to leave the tiny asura to her own devices. After having traveled with her for weeks, there was a heart-rending loneliness in the idea of leaving her with someone else as they parted to train with their respective orders. But duty called, and as a responsible charr, he listened. And since then, duty seems to have been calling nonstop. First Claw Island (and the incident that led to necrotic damage to his right arm, causing Qirri to invent a glove to help stimulate the muscles in that arm and assist with drawing on his bow string). Then Zhaitan, then all of Scarlet Briar’s madness and machinations. Then Maguuma and Mordremoth (after sending Qirri home, because she got so sick and she was so mad, and he was certain he’d lost the only friend he was sure he’d ever had). After that it was off to the Crystal Desert and taking on Balthazar and actually dying and having to get himself and Vezz out of the Mists, then that musty bastard Palawa Joko, before finally facing down Kralkatorrik. In the middle of all that, hatching and raising the dragon Aurene with the guild, and teaching her to work with the mortals of Tyria instead of in opposition. In the midst of everything in Elona, a moment of reprieve: his guildmate Agaue, a fellow charr, accepted his advances. She doesn’t travel much though, having brought her mother to the Olmakhan charr. Her mother was a Flame Legion dam and treated horribly by that legion. The Olmakhan are treating both women with kindness and care. Garrus knows it’s what’s best for both of them, even though he misses Agaue terribly. Thinking for a moment there might be a breather, but no, his own people had to start a civil war because Imperator Ruinbringer had to want a dragon for himself (as if Aurene belonged to anyone!) and the charr as a whole. Thankfully it was subdued, but in the process the linked dragons Primordius and Jormag arose. Jormag and Primordius destroyed each other, and almost destroyed their champions, Ryland Steelcatcher and Braham Eirsson respectively, in the process but Aurene’s intervention saved them. Garrus had to intervene as Ryland attacked his parents, but when Ryland tried to stab Crecia he could not act in time to keep Rytlock from stopping their son by killing him. Having to follow Gorrik to Cantha to save him from being kidnapped by former Inquest member, now Aetherblade pirate Ankka, and having to navigating both jade tech and Canthan politics to figure out how to find the pirate and how to deal with the last Elder Dragon, Soo-Won. Dealing with the aftermath of Ankka’s actions when she used her device to attack Soo-Won and inflicting Void upon the world. And now... whatever’s going on in that mine. He’s tired. He hasn’t seen Agaue in ages. Hasn’t properly talked to her other than in letters. He’s so worried about Qirri. He’s worried about if he’s properly doing his duties to the Black Citadel since he hasn’t sired a cub yet. His right arm hurts all the time now, because of just how much fighting he’s done for ten years straight since the injury at Claw Island. Even the new glove Qirri made with jade tech only just takes the edge off, but he won’t tell her that. Worse still, he wants to be able to go home, but he’s pretty sure he doesn’t know where that is anymore.

[ohpollenpowder]

So first on the block is Tarsicia! So here is what she looked like as of Personal Story! Didn't have her Olmakhan horns at the time, so these are the horns she had then. I tried to use skins that we had at the time, didn't bother doing that with colors though. On to the information!!!

She's a run-away cub from a Flame Legion outpost, doesn't hide her origin either, so she had a slightly more difficult time in the fahrar—the Blood Legion took her in at Blood Keep. Sargeim Ghostweld took care of her wounds—countless times—and eventually, she started giving back as good as she got. She got an addition to her reputation as being a Flame Legion cub, she was a bit of a pyromaniac herself. All unintentional, mind, when she got highly emotional, her Guardian flames would burst forth and take little heed in sparing her target.

Ended up at the Black Citadel to further her lessons as a Guardian, to try and get some control over her emotional state as well. At this time, her point of view of the world was very black-and-white; not so much in the good-vs-evil sense—though that is in there somewhere—but in the traditional Charr vs Humans and the Three Legions vs Flame. Think…kind of like a Paladin?

Got Rytlock's attention in the same way as story—the fight with Duke Barradin's ghost; the Ghost warband lost fewer members than the majority that was lost in story, however. Vuddat Ghosthammer, Ovidus Ghostreave, Zilol Ghostblade and Dolabella Ghostsoul were the ones she had the most interactions with. Out of the four, she got along best with the old and grumpy Ovidus, a Warrior and their Legionnaire.

The fight with the Duke left Ovidus gravely injured, so much so that he was "forced" to retire—he wouldn't spread it around, but he was ready to retire anyway. He chose Tarsicia as his replacement; Vuddat almost instantly challenged her for the role, to the death as his honor dictated. He was five years her senior, more experienced, and Ovidus' second-in-command at the time, so he had thought he was a shoo-in. Rytlock oversaw the fight, Tarsicia fought him to the point where Vuddat surrendered, and because of her morals (and not wanting to lose more bandmates), she turned her back on him to head to the side of the ring. He—of course—attacked her back and her Guardian flames completely engulfed him.

If we're being honest, the first time Tarsicia met the others in Lion's Arch, she was very skeptical—more so at old bridges being mended. But she also didn't care for any of them at first glance, very "judging the book by the cover" of her. Izar and Oiba were both very aloof, keeping to themselves. Nilo and Emrys were already talking up a storm with one another. And Nicoletta seemed to be a mixture of both.

She met Nicoletta again when they met up with their mentor—a group mentorship under Forgal. They found out after his death that Forgal had requested the both of them despite the fact it would double his workload. Nicoletta, she found, was actually shy and a bookworm but chose the Vigil to help her assertiveness and confidence. Tarsicia took her under her wing for that bit.

The dungeons were how she slowly got to know the others, though she did end up getting to know Nilo more quickly; twins, she found, were often attached at the hip. Nilo was the more confident/loud twin, but he had the problem of being overly confident as well. (Hint to his missing hand.) Izar, as it was, just held himself back out of fear of further abandonment. Raven eventually convinced him to try. Emrys and she bonded over professions, believe it or not, seeing as he was endlessly curious about her Guardian abilities. Oiba was the last she got to know—another shy sort—seeing as she mostly socialized with her pets when her nose wasn't buried in her research. But one of the things she was researching—and Tarsicia agreed to help with—is Guardian flames and how do they choose what they burn.

Claw Island was…hard. At least leaving it was. Izar and Emrys both had to hold her back as their mentors pulled the doors shut behind them. She wanted to go back and fight with them, not leave them. Still, she recognized their courage and sacrifice. Nicoletta often used the excuse that she was sad and needed comfort to curl up in Tarsicia's paws, but they both knew that it was Tarsicia that needed the comfort.

Trahearne… She had some misgivings of. He was a Necromancer, why couldn't he have done more in Orr. But when she saw the chaos of a fully-stocked, "natural" Risen environment, she quickly understood the magnitude of their sheer numbers. Still, it took until the cleansing for her to have true respect for him.

Zhaitan felt like a sigh of relief once the Elder Dragon fell, like they had been given more time. (lol) This was the first push of magic that hit them, and it affected them all like a terrible cold after the fight. Tarsicia was left with an awareness of her friends'—they're friends at this point, not yet a guild—locations and general state of mind. Helpful, but she didn't reveal this until Heart of Thorns when they got separated. As time went on—and more magic was absorbed—she's been able to add connections.

But that's jumping in time! So we'll stop with the ending of Personal Story for now. More details will be added in here and there, of course, once we have everyone to the end we'll start again and go on with Living World Season One stuff!

[meeeeeeese]

Rugan, what is a defining point in his life? What would he be like had that not happened/had he not met a specific person. What would that Rugan be like if we asked him how he felt about things?

For Rugan, the biggest defining point happened when he charged down into the crypt to duke it out with Duke Barradin at the very start of the personal story. Had that not happened, he'd have never met Rytlock, most of his warband would likely still be alive and he'd have never gotten on the path to becoming the dragonslayer. As for what he'd be like, he would probably still become a weapons engineer of some renown, and have noticeably better mental health. Though with this Rugan never going out into the world beyond the legions he'd probably remain a touch prejudiced against the other races, but no where near to the point where joining the dominion would seem like a good idea.

As for how this Rugan would think about things, he'd be a lot less concerned about the world at large, more focused on his tinkering and following orders from above. Essentially just living his life rather than breaking himself worrying about the fate of Tyria.

[archduke42]

Thank you so much for tagging me, @stellanslashgeode Challenge accepted!!

Most hits  Anisoka: Conspiracy on Ringo Vinda (4,582)I am amazed how this story turned out to be my most popular.  When I was deeply saddened by the Barriss Offee plot twist in 2013, I not only started writing lots of Barrissoka stories, I started doing other Ahsoka ships just to create some harmony with fans of other shippings.  It’s part 2 of an Anisoka trilogy, but it is definitely the one that gets the most love.  It’s more fun of an adventure since I modeled the story from the Hospital scenes from “Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home”, so it has a mirthful adventure about saving Tup and Fives from Palpatine’s schemes

Fewest hits  Obinara: The Long Shot (139) I think this one is a recent story, so it doesn’t have as many views yet, but I like building this ship over time, so we’ll see how it looks in a year.  It’s a cool adventure with a fast, edge of your seat escape (I love writing those kind of stories, though I perfectly understand that fans are probably getting tired of my one schtick story method, lol)

Most kudos Anisoka: Conspiracy on Ringo Vinda (173) Again, a fun adventure that gets madcap when Anakin and Ahsoka help save Tup from impending doom.  I love my Barrissoka stories but they are perhaps too dramatic and sappy with the action romance.  Again, this story was a slight departure from my usual predictable style.

Most comments Epiphany (18) An inspiring story where I assumed Ahsoka could sense Anakin’s redemption while she fought anonymously during the battle over Endor.  I wanted a feel good thang with a connection to Episode VI

Fewest comments  The Dying of the Light (2) There are plenty of stories with no comments, so I just took the one with the fewest.  I’m still proud of this story after 10 years.  I wrote it during a time of Star Wars canon despair but it has helped me to appreciate throwing awesome poetry into my Fiction mixes.

Most bookmarks  Anisoka: Conspiracy on Ringo Vinda (21)  Again, this story resonates well with Anisoka fans, but maybe Star Wars readers in General.  If you’ve never seen Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home, it’s a great movie about saving Earth, Saving the Whales, and Hospital antics to save one of the crew while stuck in the 20th Century.  Awesome film

Fewest bookmarks  Jar Jar/Julia: The Phantoms of Carnage (1) I wanted to give a little love to Jar Jar (though I am jealous that Lucas made Jar Jar’s romance canon while us other shippers have to watch from outside the Star Wars window) Harmless romance adventure

Most words Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones (48,433) I think it makes sense that this has the most words, since I think AotC is the movie with the greatest potential of missed opportunities in story.  I rewrote the Prequels in my own image between 2005-2010, and I am rather proud of the changes and character arcs I gave, and I am so happy to have found a huge fanbase online when I thought I was the only one writing deeper stories for Barriss Offee before 2013.

Fewest words  Barradin: All Our Tomorrows (728) Cuz I still do a little bit with shipping Barriss and a poor OC boy named Conradin who meant well.  Conrad was a character based off of a historical boy, Conrad of Hohenstaufen, Duke of Swabia (1252-1268) A direct descendant of Charlemagne, this kid was just like Joan of Arc and Edward the Black Prince.  Another teen thrust into midievel wars by adults who couldn’t handle things.  His short journey inspired me with an OC who is almost destined for greatness but was never meant to achieve that greatness.  This was just a short story that paired Conrad and Barriss together as a couple with new struggles.  I’m more of a Barrissoka shipper now, but Barradin was a nice place to start :) Conrad’s story can be found here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Conradin

No pressure tag to @jedimasterbailey @devondeal @lesbiansandpuns @thecleverqueer​ @425599167​

stats tag game

Thank you so much for tagging me, @kalevalakryze ! This will be fun.

Most hits (1,148) Sundari Lament: This one makes sense. It is twelve chapters and I updated it fairly regularly so it was pushed up to the newly added search results quite consistently. This is the one I'm most proud of and the one I will point new readers to. If the Concerto is what I'm known for that's fine with me. I had a lot to say with this one and I think I communicated it well with the right dramatic flair and tone.

Fewest hits (163) Lavender and Chartreuse: The one is always going to be my little lost lamb. It's a ship nobody was asking for. The fanbase for Resistance is miniscule. But I really like it. It's the only one I started with the goal of writing erotica and I think it delivers. It has my favorite moment of intimacy in one of my stories, involving the belt of a bathrobe. If anyone wants to make fanart of my work I would love to see that scene illustrated. I think it's really sweet.

Most kudos (49) Heart of Kyber: This story has taught me a lot about my audience. I write stories about Barriss and what most people who seek out those stories truly want is her smooching Ahsoka. I get it, trust me. It will take some time for another one of my works to surpass the kudos for this one, it regularly chugs along and picks up more. I really love this one. I put in a lot of my personal feelings about forgiveness and what it takes to love someone who hurt you. I like to think it comes out in the writing.

Most comments (58) Inferno: I know why this one has so many comments, it's controversial! The thought behind it was "Okay, Dave. You want to do Barriss dirty like that, make her a criminal? Then go all out! Make her a real radical, explain her motivations, and have her team up with all the other radicals in the series to really accomplish something!" In retrospect I didn't explain effectively some character choices which led to some of the comments. This one arrived in a firehose of inspiration; I was updating every day, so it got a lot of early attention. I think it got shared somewhere, maybe Reddit, because a lot of readers I don't know showed up. And it made some people big mad. Hense the comments.

Fewest comments (0) Lavender and Chartreuse: Again, under loved. What I like most about this one is that since it's told from the POV of a temporarily blinded person who has a one-night stand. It's very sensual. It's all "oh this person has strong arms", it's all touch and smell and taste. It's about vulnerability and seeking comfort though closeness. I really like this one. I think the title is really clever on top of everything else.

Most bookmarks (12) Sundari Lament: I could see why people wanted to bookmark and wait until it was finished!

Fewest bookmarks (0) Jedi: Dropout- This one was an experiment to see if an all-OC story would appeal to readers. I used to mainly for worldbuilding and writing this cute clueless couple who were not heroes but had to adapt to dangerous circumstances. It's my other weird little child.

Most words (50,678) Sundari Lament: I did not expect it to get this long but when you're filling in what happened behind the scenes over three seasons of a television series you can get a little carried away. I didn't realize when I started how many times the action goes back to Sunari, so I had to account for that and this one had a lot of character development, so it needed time to breathe. I think it's the right length for what it needed to accomplish.

Fewest words (13,003) From Uncanny unto Concordance: L&C is a one-shot so I'm not counting that one (it's just over 5K). This story was designed to be short, one chapter per season over the course of a year. It was designed to be intimate and a relatively small story. I'm happy with how it turned out and I am enjoying fleshing out the AU in the sequel.

No pressure tag to @archduke42

[anghraine]

Happy WIP Wednesday, all! I was tagged by @rain-sleet-snow, and appreciate it. Obviously I've been writing various niche video game fics lately and ... well, here's the current opening of my most niche video game WIP, the Guild Wars: Prophecies "Duke Barradin becomes king after all and his daughter Althea is a) his heir and b) not fridged" AU.

The King of Ascalon was dead. So were all three of his offspring, the four of them stabbed by servants or courtiers or spies—nobody yet knew. He had made such a long list of enemies in recent years that even his loyalists hardly knew where to begin the search for traitors. Meanwhile, the high commander of his armies lay dead as well, mourned more sincerely than the king, even as priests and priestesses of Grenth carefully removed clusters of arrows from his body. Warmaster Adelbern had been a great soldier and captain, loved by the people of Ascalon, and not only the ones in the armies he led—likely the reason the king had only reluctantly appointed him to his position. Had Adelbern lived, he might well have proven a dangerous rival to the House of Barradin, willingly or not. But in the last hour of the last battle of the last Guild War, the remainder of the Foresters’ Guild shot him full of arrows, giving away their positions in order to see the king’s relentless commander dead. They lived just long enough to see it, Adelbern’s life draining away before the priests of Dwayna even reached him. Althea Barradin, niece of the dead king, found all this far too much death for one day.

She knew her histories well enough to guess it might not end there, and prudently stayed in her theatre outside the city, keeping her distance from whatever was happening within. 

“We might be able to calm things down,” her cousin Irene suggested. By blood, their relationship was more distant than Althea’s to the recently murdered princes and princess; by affection, it was considerably closer. “If we went into the city, I mean. We could cast veils of invisibility and sneak in—”

“You haven’t mastered the veil,” Althea said, summoning up a smile to soften the words. Irene was very young: barely nineteen, and hardly prepared to face down her trials as an illusionist, much less angry mobs out for each other’s blood. Althea steadied Irene’s grasp on the focus she used for concentration, a jeweled circle inscribed with runes. “We won’t calm anyone if we get ourselves killed.”

She didn’t say that the swath of killing had made her and Irene’s lives and deaths more significant to Ascalon’s future than ever before. Instead, she tilted Irene’s face up to the sunlight pouring through the trees and past the pillars of the theatre.

“I’m tempted to cast you as Lyssa in Advent of the Gods,” Althea said, almost lightly, “but I think you could manage Melandru in a pinch. Put a crown of leaves on your head and some phantasmal vines over your arms, and—”

“I—I don’t want a crown,” said Irene, her green eyes lowering to the mosaics embedded into the stone floor beneath them. Althea had personally paid for them, an amount she would have considered exorbitant if not for the subtle elegance of the work.

It was easier to think about the mosaics and who to cast in her favorite ancient play than crowns, which led to wondering where the crown of Doric was now, and whose head it would adorn tomorrow. Would her father, next in line according to the law, survive to have an opinion by sunrise? Would she and Irene be forced to flee under cover of illusions? Where could they even go? Orr?

“That’s entirely fair,” said Althea. “We could weave flowers into your hair, perhaps.”

[guildwarsgirl]

Got another character slot and decided to bring back my warrior from Guild Wars 1, Amy Barradin, the widow of Prince Rurik and eldest daughter of Duke Barradin.

[jeremy-ken-anderson]

Chest Glitch

This morning I watched a pretty cool video pitting the AI and stats of the NPCs in Dark Souls games against one of the game’s horrors, the Mimic.

I particularly liked how most of the time, if the Mimic wins the fight, the editor lets its full animation play out, where it walks back to where it was, sits down, and closes, once again becoming utterly indistinguishable from a normal chest.

This afternoon I was playing Guild Wars, and there’s this odd little glitch.

When you fast-travel to Piken Square, there’s a series of places in town you might appear: in the back by the merchant, next to the gate, next to the Xunlai Chest and Duke Barradin.

It’s possible this glitch occurs every time you travel in and it’s only visible if you appear directly next to the chest, or that it only happens if your arrival point is the one next to the chest and Duke. Doesn’t really matter. What happens is that the chest spawns in 90 degrees off of its proper orientation. This happens on the axis that would be reasonable! It basically looks like someone shoved it along the ground  by one corner. It’s not knocked over on its back or standing on its side. So if it sometimes spawned in a little differently you might not notice it...except...

When you show up next to it, it corrects this in real time. So you appear next to the chest, and it’s 90 degrees off, and then it turns 90 degrees.

This is weird. And if you’ve spent a while the same morning watching people get eaten by a Mimic, perhaps a little disconcerting.

[ascalonianpicnic]

Astorin Miststep - “Don’t think I won’t limp over there to knock some manners into your head.”

Charr Revenant - cis man, he/him - gay and still single somehow

Astorin had a pretty standard childhood in the legions. Ash and proud growing up. His warband, the step warband, was always a bit of a ragtag group, taking in those that didn’t have elsewhere to turn and giving them a chance to show off what they were really made of. Astorin was always the unofficial leader, and then he was promoted to actual leader, following the devastating battle against Duke Barradin. Now acting as Legionnaire of the step warband, he helped it recover and regrow. During this time, he and his entire warband proved top tier time and again, and Astorin himself entered into a relationship with Yahuk. After a while, his name was well enough known that the Order of Whispers reached out, recruiting him. Astorin said his goodbyes and left his warband in the capable hands of a trusted friend, joining Whispers to try and do some good against the dragons. It wasn’t long before the pact was founded, and he eagerly joined.

Astorin served the Pact for a good run, joining shortly after it was founded. He was a good spy and an excellent soldier, always glad to lend a hand and defend those who needed it. When the Summit in the Grove was announced, he was quick to volunteer to serve as a guard. And when the mordrem attacked, he was the first one to leap to action, defending citizens and guests alike with all he had. He fought bravely and saved many lives, and he went down in the battle.

Even the medics who attended to Astorin cannot say for certain whether he died or not. He certainly seemed to, and it made the fact that he recovered even more miraculous. Astorin didn’t come back unchanged, though. Open awakening, he had strange new powers, magic he had not had before as a daredevil. As he healed and recovered, Astorin took his time to explore and practice with this new magic, meeting great legends in his Dreams, including Glint herself. He was never one to sit idle, so he trained as much as he safely could. While he healed, though, word came back of the Pact Fleet’s crash into the jungle. The Dragon had felled every airship, and now the entire army was trapped. Astorin, still very much in the process of healing, left then and there to help.

He saved many lives and brought much needed help to the Maguuma, but at the cost of never quite healing right. Following the death of Mordremoth, Astorin retired from field work, and from the Pact as a whole. He lives in a small house of his own on the outskirts of Ascalon. During the events following the Maguuma campaign, he was enlisted to babysit various members of Destiny’s Edge, helping them sort out their personal problems and keeping them out of trouble for a while on behalf of Aqun and Laighe (who belong to @mystery-salad). Zojja is the only one who still currently lives with him, though the two have become close friends over the years. He still keeps in touch with his old warband as well, and on days when his leg isn’t hurting so much and he doesn’t walk with too pronounced of a limp, he’ll visit the Black Citadel to help with training cubs or to talk with soldiers recovering from permanent injuries.

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Astorin’s injuries from the Summit, worsened during his Maguuma trek, left him with chronic pain and a permanent limp. He’s still a skilled fighter, utilizing his revenant abilities to navigate the battle field rather than his feet. Most days, he prefers to stay at home and learn new skills and hobbies instead though. The Pact and his old warband make sure he’s well set up, so he doesn’t have to work, but that doesn’t stop him from helping out and taking on some of the Pact’s paperwork when it gets overwhelming for the folks still working there. Every day living with Zojja is an adventure in itself, with all of the “accessibility upgrades“ she’s made to the place. There have been a few explosions. But it’s fine. Everyone important walked away, after all.

(end notes: as mentioned in oriphio’s post, i made astorin on the same day as him and variott. I was soon to discover that as much as I was super interested in charr lore and history and culture, I hated their run cycles and I was so bad at revenant as a class lmao. Also his last name in game is actually fadefoot im just too cheap to get a name change contract uwu.

Astorin actually plays a major part in an alternate universe @mystery-salad and I have, where their Taomesin is commander. Astorin covers all the paperwork and other desk work for Tao in that universe, covering the important parts of the pact that they can’t and weren’t ever trained to handle. He and Rhosill end up as a “thing” in that universe and its cute~ just two tired old men~)

[i-mybrunettelady]

Sometimes I forget how deep my Ainsaph family lore goes...

Like, Nyra's family descends from Duke Barradin's brother so she is, in fact, related to Barradin as well! I do wanna make an Ainsaph family member, an idea I've been cooking for a hot second now, but I will enjoy the game with Sofka rn (she isn't related to Nyra at all, she's a totally other guy)