#mordrem caladbolg

[ohpollenpowder]

Pretend they're pointing at each other like the Spider-man meme....

[ohpollenpowder]

I have... [squints at list] Nine??? I might be missing on—ten. (I forgot Simp...) ...Wait. No. I forgot Godrig, too. So eleven is the "final" number for this. I have a weird...thing where all my Revenants are male????

Majority of them have done the whole "died and came back" deal, mostly because none of them seem the type to go to the Mists in order to commune with the Legends and come back. That and trauma. Two of them were "born" in the Mists; via Mad King nonsense because they're Halloween characters: Mad Kíng Simp and Spirït Halloween.

Gavin Caspari (Human) was a priest of Grenth and a Necromancer prior to his death. He was born out of the idea of the Commander kinda...resenting Trahearne? (But still goes along with things because he's a good bean.) More so he resents having all this responsibility thrust upon him by the Sylvari, which was probably done so because Gavin is a reliable person and a good dad to his adopted kids.

Algalleg (Sylvari) is an older Secondborn and a rather skilled smith and tailor. He was caught by a rich noble woman who wanted him to work for her and her alone—an idea he refused. It ended in his death and his face being horribly cut up: nose gone, eyes blinded, lines all over his face... When he came back he returned to his work after recovery and refuses to do any sort of work for Humans at all. Will barely work for races other than Sylvari, to be honest.

Keeper Colwyn (Sylvari) is a happy go lucky optimistic lad who worked as a trader with another Keeper and unfortunately met his end while moving goods. I wouldn't say he had a different class before reawakening as a Rev, he was more than likely just a normal merchant who was just...really good at getting information out of people. He still trusts more than he should... Colwyn is also the first of mine to have an appearance change between life and death not to have come at the hands of those that killed him. He was formerly a light green and had different hair.

Izar the Forsaken (Norn) is part of my Five Commanders Guild line, he was a thief before he died trying to complete a Raven puzzle and froze to death from a Svanir's spell. But now he travels with five other idiots and they all make the hair-brained decisions that the Commander normally makes on their own. He's the first one that uses Legends other than the "canon" ones; most of his are honored and powerful followers of Raven. Izar is also one of those that had physical changes following his death and reawakening.

Mad Kíng Simp (Sylvari) is Halloween born and has no story. :)

Artaxiád (Sylvari) has a whole sad story—a former Guardian of Nightmare who left the Court after the attack on Lion's Arch and was hunted down and killed for it. They truly blinded him. So during recovery he renamed himself and became a Mercenary, currently skulking around Bjora still while helping the Pact—Priory more so than Whispers since he also used to be in that Order.

Reforged Caladbolg & Mordrem Caladbolg (Sylvari) are a set pair. They are the embodiment of "what if..." So what if when the Commander reforged Caladbolg, a Sylvari was "born" instead? Well, the actual sword is still there but almost useless now—everything that made Caladbolg special is now in a humanoid form that follows the Commander about. Mordrem Caladbolg was more of the mindset of what if the sword and Trahearne were separated during the air ship fight and Mordremoth found the blade? Blighting pod and out pops a weapon. Reforged has former wielders of Caladbolg as their Legends and Mordrem has any Champions of note of Mordremoth's.

Ryon Konu (Human) is a former priest of Grenth, a powerful one, and a Necromancer before his death. I don't think I really...gave any details about his death so that's something to ponder. But he was born of the idea of why won't you stay alive, you bastard. Because every time he dies? Grenth immediately shoves this man back into his body because it's not his time to go yet and Grenth is tired of seeing his face. For Legends...he channels primarily himself. Or...well...himself as a Necromancer.

Spirït Halloween (Asura) is also Halloween born and has no story. :) At least not outside of the concept of Spirit Halloween being a Revenant infesting "empty" stores.

And lastly we have Godrig Ringedpyre (Charr)—he's the father of Tarsicia who is in the Five Commanders Guild with Izar. He sent her away from the Flame Legion when she was a cub and died for not releasing information about her whereabouts. She had too important of a future to let it waste in the Flame Legion kitchens, he had seen it in a prophecy. He stayed in the Mists for the better part of twenty years before returning. Godrig was an Elementalist before becoming a Revenant, but I don't think he'd channel anyone new.

ALRIGHT GW2BLR im not sure if ive made a post like this before but whatever

TELL ME ABOUT YOUR REVENANTS!

since the lore around them is so wonky, tell me your headcanons! how did they become a rev? what does it even mean for them (or you) to be a rev? what legends do they channel/communicate with, if any at all? if you have multiple revs, how do they and their powers differ? if theyre a rev in game but something different in your canon, why? what are they?

[sylvaridreams]

vsartparty headshots........ 2! I'm seriously running out of steam today.

Astrella - @ohpollenpowder

Glyndwr - @wyldblunt

Unknown sylvari - I realized that I managed to take a screenshot without your name in it, and I haven't been able to find it going through anyone else's screenshots either so um. if anyone knows who this is please let me know, you looked super cool ;_; Mordrem Caladbolg is also ohpollenpowder's!

[manasurge]

Having a dilemma about the what weapon to give to Mourynn. I've had two different ideas in mind, but I can't decide which to go with (trying to decide for designing reasons and figuring out lore reasons mostly, and I'm indecisive af).

Originally I wanted her to grow her own GS (she's a shaper), so it would start off as a dagger, grow into a sword, and then into a greatsword. This is easy enough to apply since her early years and grow with her, and would be a nice sentimental thing, and could possibly change with her in both a physical and emotional way (also it might make me just want to make my own Reformed weapon set bc I'm just extra like that). The other idea I was juggling was that I wanted her to be able to Reform the shattered Caladbolg, and would be a neat kind of "Legendary" weapon that she also has to put the time and effort into healing and powering up by doing a lot of neat things, as well as being able to fuse a part of herself with the weapon, making it special that way too (and I can draw my own version of Caladbolg too!) Reforming is her version of dragon magic (also called "Symbiosis") that essentially is just her parasitizing anything that's Mordrem or dragon magic related (but is best suited for jungle dragon magic since it's the most compatible). This involves her daughter/dodder vines taking to the host and changing them, but in a way that's beneficial to them both (since she herself is full of them as it's the scion used to graft the two of them together). It's also very controversial bc she is still technically parasitizing them, which is one of the things that causes a lot of distrust and unease from other people bc no one really wants to experience that lol.

So I'm not sure which to go with bc I like both... but idk how she'd carry both or when she'd decide which one to use. Idk if Mawdrey can hold 2 GS's easily (that's how Mourynn is able to carry it on her back lol), but I guess I could do some cartoon game logic and make it work with both maybe? maybe not have either shown (or only when it's most convenient to the context), or maybe I could just do more Mesmer shenanigans to make it appear and disappear whenever I want, idk.

[i-mybrunettelady]

Arson man, a.k.a. El, for the oc name ask? 🔥🔥🔥*arsons your askbox* 🔥🔥🔥

Arson maan take me by the haaand

01. Full name: Elandrin Aien

02. Best friend: Trahearne

03. Sexuality: Gay

04. Favorite color: Red <3

05. Relationship status: Taken by Liv :3

06. Ideal mate: Patient, understanding, calm. Tho he does not know this for the most part until he meets Liv.

07. Turn-ons: Power, curiosity, (sexual) openness.

08. Favorite food: Sweets and desserts

09. Crushes: Cadeyrn, Trahearne, Liv

10. Favorite music: I don't think he has any. His sense of rhythm is weird and almost non-existent - I don't think he's that much into music at all.

11. Biggest fear: Becoming Mordrem

12. Biggest fantasy: Defeating Mordy (which he did in Cantha, in the end, a few years after the Maguuma campaign)

13. Bad habits: Violence, generally... not caring much about other people, selfishness

14. Biggest regret: Saying yes to ships flying to Maguuma. Somehow it all comes back to Maguuma :')

15. Best kept secrets: His horrible mental health :')

16. Last thought: Something when he's being annoyed, probably

17. Worst romantic experience: Cadeyrn, hands down, for a variety of reasons

18. Biggest insecurity: His mental/emotional fragility that he's working on.

19. Weapon of choice: Caladbolg Solana (dagger)

20. Role Model: none comes to mind besides, in a vague sense, Trahearne

[onemanwarband]

I had assumed magic butterflies but I kinda love the idea it’s so appealing that local butterflies & moths

The commander is warily ready for a fight and the local pollinators just hear

So while everyone's talking about Caladbolg where do we all think the butterflies come from? Magic, like mesmer butterflies? Do they live in the sword? Is it just so appealing to butterflies that they come and swarm it when drawn? Do you think the commander ever draws it a little bit by accident and suddenly they're covered in butterflies?

[knight-of-the-thorn]

1, 4, and 10 for the Commander love interest asks!

@mystery-salad

Sorry this took a bit I got stuck in wvw did you know experience boosters help with reward track gain I didn't

1. Who are they and what's their dynamic with the commander?

Arceidai's romantic interest is Theitia. Theitia had the same wyld hunt as Arc, and the two of them fought the shadow of the dragon in the dream together. They both trained under Caithe at first, they were best friends and practically inseparable, but Arc didn't necessarily pay as much heed to the dangers of their hunt as Theitia did. Where Arc cared about it a great deal, Theitia was hesitant. She was scared. So she ran. Faolain found her, took her in as an apprentice and pitted her against Arc as a way to get under Caithe's skin. The two had a really intense rivalry for a while, but it was honestly more like a game to them. Until Arc left to become the commander. Fortunately two of them would reunite once again. Unfortunately this was because Theitia was turned into a Mordrem and was hunting them down through Auric basin. They took her back to the silverwastes and the two begain the long journey of trying to trust each other again.

No one knows Arc like Tia, and no one knows Tia like Arc. The two of them are incredibly codependent and have, on multiple occasions, threatened to/actually proceeded to tear apart the world in order to get the other back. As they have been more open about the fact that they're in love the shit that they have pulled to make sure they are never seperated has got increasingly more insane. There's two Arceidais now because Theitia refused to let them die. There's an alternate timeline where Arc held an entire elder dragon in their brain and tried to sacrifice their live so she could live and never have to be under someone elses control.

Also an important part of their relationship is the constant monologuing.

4. What was their initial opinion of the commander? Has that changed at all?

Theitia has known Arceidai her entire life, and when they were young she took the fact that they would always be around, and that she'd always be their first priority. They would always be following her around like a lost puppy, and she got very used to that. She thought that they were entertaining, when they weren't being gloomy and serious or desperate to impress Caithe. There was a bit of a competitive element to their friendship sometimes, especially after she joined the nightmare court, and she did think that she was smarter than them, but that they were smarter than most of the other people around them, if niave and airheaded. When they left for the priory it completely threw her for a loop. Until that point, the idea that thet would do that was completely unthinkable and she hadn't really realized how much they meant to her. She definitely tried to underplay how much that hurt, and how much she wanted them back.

Both of them have grown up quite a lot. She definitely sees them in a way that she never did before. She has lost them too many times to take them for granted anymore, and while she still thinks they can be an idiot sometimes, she also views them as more of an equal and a partner.

10. Are there any events in the story that happen differently because of/to/involving them?

Oh boy, a couple ones! Knight of the thorn is the main one! Because if Arc had taken caladbolg it would gave fucking destroyed them, she took it in their stead. Of course there's the auric basin portion of the story where Arc is not only being hunted by every mordrem in the area but one very specific mordrem. Theitia acts as one of Faolain’s champions in Twilight Arbor at which point she realises that she joined a cult. She also did fully cremate their body after Balthazar killed them so Joko could not get them under any circumstance so they took much longer to come back to life than normal.

Around the middle of season 3, Arc and Tia almost kidnapped Aurene and ran away to start a new life. They didn't, but they got pretty far into planning it before deciding against this.

[aetherblooms]

⚔️⚔️⚔️ lukas >:3

lukas!!! he is a werewolf sylvari (:

for context he is one of two (sometimes three) commanders that split up the story and, during HoT, he joins trahearne on the glory of tyria and after the crash he holds onto broken caladbolg.

they're both captured by mordremoth, and the blade's remaining magic protects him from the dragon's call and keeps him from losing his mind, but his physical form is twisted into a cross between a nightmare hound and a vinetooth. in my head it looks a little like the shadowkeeper from ffxiv, with extra eyes/snouts/teeth/etc

he is 12ft tall and full of incredible bloodlust

(he will also shake hands for treats. dogification-ing himself to cope with being a horrifying beast now.)

following HoT he's trapped in this monstrous form for weeks, possibly months, until yvette and trahearne restore caladbolg and the pale tree recovers enough to transform him back into a person. in the interim, he stalks the heart of maguuma hunting mordrem, assisting the pact and the exalted, and guarding aurene's egg in tarir. (he is very very lonely)

[kerra-and-company]

"Don't make me do this" for whoever it'd hurt most from :3c

@mystery-salad

I wrote this and then COMPLETELY forgot. to actually post it. Wow @ me, good lord al;sdjf. But here it is now; have a fic for ya! :3 (And thanks a bunch for the ask!!)

Warnings: HoT spoilers, nightmares

There’s someone in front of Kerra.

She’s in a dark room. Vines curl up towards the ceiling, slowly moving from side to side. Mist swirls around her and the stranger—no. She looks closer. The stranger is the mist, their body fluid, their face changing.

It’s Tiachren first, with his sword and his thorns and his shield. Canach next, eyes glowing, like the mockery of him in Mordremoth’s mind. Nisha, taller than xe should be—a Mordrem Guard, brokenly laughing.

The figure becomes Rel. Then Caithe. Then Laranthir. Then Malyck. Mordremoth’s voice booms out above the continuing laughter, loud and demanding.

KILL THEM.

She’s holding Caladbolg, she realizes—still broken, the jagged blade inexplicably shining like broken glass. She begins to move forward, slow but steady, against her will.

I won’t do this, she tries to say, but her voice won’t come.

OBEY.

Stop. No. I won’t, never, never, never, NEVER.

I AM THIS WORLD. YOU WILL OBEY. KILL THEM.

She’s directly in front of the person, now.

It’s Trahearne, wrapped in vines, gaze pleading and tired and lost.

You’re alive, you’re alive, I saved you, this isn’t real, stop it, stop it, stop—

He opens his mouth, and his voice and Mordremoth’s speak in unison: “KILL ME.”

No. No. Don’t make me do this.

Her arms rise, taking Caladbolg with them.

I won’t, I won’t, no, no, no—

“—NO!”

Kerra’s eyes fly open just before the sword plunges down, her chest heaving. It takes her a moment to get her bearings.

She’s alone, in her tent, in the too-warm air of Ember Bay—well, almost alone. The blankets rustle, the cot shifts, and Poppy’s face looms over Kerra’s.

<Awake,> the smokescale says through their bond, tapping Kerra irritably with her tail. <Scared. Threat? Fight?>

<Dream,> Kerra replies, reaching out to scratch Poppy under the chin. The smokescale lets out her trademark chitter-purr, leaning into Kerra’s shaky hand. <Dream. Safe. Sorry.>

“Commander?” a quiet voice calls from outside, and Kerra jumps, swearing under her breath. Poppy growls. “It’s Ulaa. Are you all right? Do you require assistance?”

“No,” Kerra says, her voice raspy. She pauses, coughing to clear her throat. “No,” she repeats. “Thank you for checking on me, Ulaa. I apologize if I woke you up.”

Ulaa huffs, her weary amusement and relief palpable. “You’ve done more to keep this expedition intact than anyone. A disrupted sleep cycle won’t cause permanent damage.”

“Thanks anyway,” Kerra says. “Good night, Ulaa.”

“‘Night, Commander,” the researcher replies, her footsteps retreating.

Kerra exhales heavily, her heartbeat finally slowing a little. Poppy’s growls stop, and she curls up against Kerra’s side.

<Sorry,> Kerra says again.

<No sorry,> Poppy mutters grumpily. <Sleep. Silly plant.>

Kerra laughs quietly, letting her eyes fall closed. When sleep finally does return to her, it’s alongside happier memories, far away from fear and jungles and dragons.

[ohpollenpowder]

Bristé here only knew Mordremoth, so when the Dragon was defeated he kind of...just started wandering around the jungle. Got to know it pretty well as he tried to sort out the voices in his head, siblings that he didn't know of at the time. Without Mordremoth the Dream all but slammed into his head, without any kind of personal shielding. It kind of made him insane in a different way than Mordremoth's corruption of his pod did. As he slowly shed the parts that made him Mordrem he also fumbled his way back to sanity. Still...when he encountered others—especially his own kind—for the first time it was very jarring. He's better these days, even if he's a bit curt and aloof, it's with good reason. He's scared he's going to revert, even without the dragon around.

Long story short, Shahïn is left very insane from the time that he spent inside a blighting pod, brief is it was. He had to chop off his left arm from the elbow down to escape the changes made there, same with the left part of his face. Mordremoth’s call drew him as soon as he Awoke, then he found himself thrust in the pod, he was freed when some random adventurer destroyed it but they moved on and he was alone. Declan (his tiger) found him then, Declan was the one who helped him keep some kind of sanity. On his way back to the Grove he found Omid (his jungle stalker), another savior. And…well, as skittish as he is of others, it didn’t stop the Pirate Balthier from attempting to drag him on a ship (bad idea #1) and keep the ranger on as part of his crew (bad idea #2). Shahïn is worried he’s going to hurt someone in his own way, but a lot of what’s happened to him drives him not to care about it as well. Just about his cats. And himself. (He doesn’t know how to swim, last thing he wants is to be cast overboard…)

Mordrem Caladbolg has a lovely little story blurp right over here. They're the epitome of Mordrem at the height of the dragon's power. They're thrilled at the chance to strike back at those that once used it for ill intent, or now what's been twisted to ill intent. This—in a round about way—includes the Commander, especially the Sylvari Commanders. Watch out.

I wanna see peoples Mordrem/Ex-Mordrem OCs

Please, I have brainworms and wanna read about them.

[ohpollenpowder]

So the full image of these two shots looked a lot like a band cover or Secretforger up there being an overlord they're about to fight.

ANYWAY!

(I believe:) Secretforger [UWU] - Majestic, gigantic Charr of Purple Island

Then left to right: Field Medic Deidre [Star], Mordrem Rose [BATS], Illàés, Edelwëss, and Mordrem Caladbolg (me).

[brax-was-here]

Scarlet Briar: The Seeds of Life Chapter 2

Chapter 2: You Don’t Control Me

Sometimes life is full of surprises

Something was tickling her nose, and Ceara instinctively brushed it away before awakening suddenly. She quickly glanced around at her surroundings. Plants and trees surrounded her in every direction.  Looking down at herself, she realized she was lying naked on moss-covered ground. She immediately stood, almost losing her balance in the process.

“Where…where am I?” The lush of vegetation of the jungle stretched out all around her. The air, thick and humid, was filled with the sounds of the jungle’s animal inhabitants. Various exotic bird calls she had never heard before echoed through the canopy that blocked out the bright sky. The sounds of chirping insects rose from the ground level, some spreading their wings and taking flight, flittering about the various plants.

“No…this isn’t happening…not again.” she muttered. As she stepped forward, something snagged her foot tripping her, causing her to crash to the ground. She turned swiftly, glaring at the lone vine that caused her to stumble, withered and aged as it writhed through the damp moss.

“No…I beat you…” she whispered to it. Rumbling could be heard in the distance. She quickly got to her feet as the ground around her exploded. Numerous thorned vines of various sizes sprouted forth, whipping at her.

‘NO!” she screamed. She turned to run but she was surrounded. They knocked her to the ground, coiling around her body.

“NO! I beat you! You’re dead now!” She screamed with everything she had. “YOU DON’T CONTROL ME!” The vines stopped moving and slowly crystalized. She watched as tiny fissures formed throughout them. Within moments they shattered into a fine crystalline dust that filled the air. She dropped to the ground with a thud.

“You…you’re nothing now…” she muttered, catching her breath. Slowly she got to her feet, brushing the dirt from her. She glared at the path that had opened before her as the dust slowly dissipated in thousands of tiny sunlit sparkles.  

She cautiously followed the path forward as it twisted and turned through the jungle’s foliage. She would catch images in the trees, but when she focused on them, they would disappear.  She took pause as a playful giggle was heard on the wind.

“You’re nothing.” Ceara spoke loudly. “Come out now. I am not afraid to face you.”

“But I’m in your head…” the playful voice mocked her.

“No. No you’re not.”

“But don’t you want to play?”

“I’m through playing.” Ceara marched forward along the pathway. It emptied into a clearing with the sun shining brightly in the area. Opposite of where she stood, a group of thorned vines had jutted from the ground, twisting and interweaving together, forming a small crudely shaped structure. Ceara approached them cautiously. As she neared a small section of the vines parted, revealing a bright glow from the interior. The glow blinded her at first, but as her vision cleared, she gasped at what she saw. Floating in the air before her was an image of Avatar of the Pale Tree, her mother. But its face was different. Its appearance seemed like a child. Ceara stared at it for a moment before its eyes grew wide, its mouth opened in an inaudible scream as a blade of dark energy seemed to slice it down the middle. The blast knocked Ceara backwards. Quickly regaining her balance, she looked at the space where the image had just stood, but now it was replaced by a blackened black. A seemingly dark version of the sword Caladbolg. Ceara stepped forward ever so cautiously. As she drew near, the vines of the sword started writhing, launching themselves at her.

Ceara awoke with a start. She was curled up in a ball laying on the makeshift cot in the community tent. The light of the morning sun was piercing through small openings throughout the leathery canvas ceiling of the structure. She stared out of the open side of the tent, the far cliff walls painted bright reds and oranges by the rising sun.  Other visitors to the camp were slowly stirring awake as well. Sitting up, her mind wandered to the dream she just experienced.

“Could it be?” she asked quietly.

“Could it be what?” she heard Liathlas ask from the cot next to her. Ceara turned to see the dark skinned sylvari looking at her.

“It’s nothing. Just…just a dream.” Ceara replied sharply, turning to stand from the cot, stretching as she stood. “This cot was the most uncomfortable thing I have ever slept on.” She complained while strapping on her shoulder armor. She locked her gauntlets on and grabbed her rifle, slinging it over her shoulder.

“It is a centaur camp. Did you expect a lush bed in a fancy part of Divinity’s Reach?” Liathlas remarked, sitting up from her cot. Ceara seemingly ignored her as she started making her way out towards the sunlight.

“We should get something to eat before heading out.” Liathlas suggested as she stood and stretched. “I do believe there is a merchant here at the camp.”

“Perhaps.” Ceara said as she stepped out into the morning sun. She scanned the area noticing an asura with what seemed a small booth of simple foods.

“There.” Liathlas pointed as she walked up beside her. Ceara nodded. The asura took notice as the duo approached.

“A lovely morning to you lovely ladies. What can I do for you?” he asked, wiping his hands with a stained cloth.

“Yes! We’d like to make a purchase!” Liathlas expressed excitedly.

“Excellent! I will say I am sorry for my low volume. My source seems to be running late, which is quite infuriating.”

“It’s quite alright.” Liathlas assured him as the pair looked over the vendors wares. A myriad of fruits and vegetables accustomed to being grown in the desert heat, some breads, and casks of water.

“Not much of a choice here.” Ceara remarked, grabbing a couple desert pears, and a small canvas bag filled with jojoba nuts. Liathlas grabbed some fruits as well, and a small bag for herself. Ceara handed the merchant some coins, noticing the dry skin of the asuras hands.

“You’ve been here awhile.” She commented.

“Indeed, I have.” He replied. “Not many people supply food along the trade routes in these areas. Plus, I don’t think many people prefer centaur delicacy.” He remarked, placing the coins in a small pouch in his belt. Ceara nodded lightly.

“Well, good luck in your travels.” He said to them as they turned to leave.

“What’s on your mind, secondborn?” Liathlas asked Ceara as they walked towards the gate of the camp. “You seem to be preoccupied.” Ceara glanced at Liathlas as she bit into one of the pears.

“It’s nothing. Just thinking about the trip ahead.”

“It will take us a day at least to reach the pact camp.” Liathlas mentioned. “Maybe we could ask the centaurs to take us there?”

“It’s worth a shot.” Ceara replied, stopping. “It will save us some time.” Asking around the inhabitants within, it wasn’t long for them to find a pair willing to take them northward into the Silverwastes area of the desert region.

A few hours passed as the centaurs had taken Ceara and Liathlas as far as they would through the canyons to the desert regions to the north. The Silverwastes was a stretch of arid rocky desert terrain that once was part of the jungles of Maguuma. Over the centuries, the thick jungle vegetation gave way to the creeping desert sands. The pair continued their journey as the canyons slowly turned into a rough desert terrain filled with great buttes and mesas standing tall above the desert floor. Giant thorned vines marked the terrain, remnants of the jungle dragon Mordremoth’s advancement on Tyria. Now they lay dry and gnarled by the desert air. The life gone from them when the dragon was defeated.

“Do we really need to visit Camp Resolve?” Ceara asked, taking a drink from her canteen as they passed under a high arcing vine. Liathlas picked up on the reluctance in Ceara’s voice. “And why couldn’t the centaurs have taken us all the way there? And furthermore, are we even heading in the right direction?”

“Secondborn, of cour-“ Liathlas cut herself off as the duo spotted a set of creatures on a ridge in the distance. Ceara recognized them immediately.

“Mordrem.” Ceara whispered. “Thorns...”

“Indeed. We’ll need to be cautious.” They circled around the area in a wide berth, using the rock filled terrain as cover.

“Somethings not right here…” Ceara muttered.

“What?” Liathlas whispered back. Ceara unshouldered her rifle.

“We’re not alone.” They heard a slight rumbling in the ground before them. “Run!” Ceara shouted. The ground exploded behind them as the pair turned and bolted away. A great screech pierced the air as the sounds of heavy footfalls galloped behind them. Ceara turned in time to see a creature of Mordremoth leap at her, raising its giant pincer-like arms in the air. Ceara dodged out of the creature’s path, bringing her rifle to bare. Pulling the trigger, a thunderous boom was heard as the ley energy powered the projectile through the barrel. The shot severed one of the creature’s pinchers from its body, causing it to screech in pain. Liathlas, who had managed to teleport to a ridge slightly above, brandished her staff and motioned for a set of illusions to appear around the beast. They proceeded to attack it. Bewildered, the creature lashed out at the illusions as Ceara fired another shot, hitting the creature in its head. It dropped immediately. Their victory was short lived as more of the plant-like beasts started erupting from the ground.

“Run!” Ceara shouted. Liathlas opened a portal that Ceara dove through, appearing on the ridge next to her. The creatures approached quickly, climbing the side of the rocky incline to get to their prey. The duo turned to run, only to be stopped by a giant flower-like creature with long tentacles hovering in the air before them.

“Really!?” Ceara said disbelieving. It approached fast, lashing out at them. They both evaded the attacks as Liathlas launched a mystic bolt at it, and Ceara firing her rifle. Both attacks landed on their marks, injuring the creature. It growled in pain, as it turned towards Ceara. More rumbling was heard as the ground seemingly started to shift.

“Oh no…” Ceara muttered looking at the sand, which was shifting before her. “Please no sand worms…”. Liathlas conjured more illusions to attack the floating creature, seemingly oblivious to what was happening. The other mordrem started cresting the ridge, standing ready to chase down the sylvari. As they started moving towards the duo, rumbling filled the air as the ground cracked open. Sand shifted and before they knew what was happening, the pair found themselves falling uncontrollably. Liathlas quickly grabbed Ceara’s arm and opened portal after portal falling through each, quickly placing the each one farther and farther away from the falling debris, until they finally tumbled out of the last portal across the sandy ground. The thunderous crash of the limestone boulders that had made up the ground above echoed through the air as the pile smashed into the sandy ground, throwing sand and debris in every direction. Ceara stopped rolling, laying on her back, her ears ringing from the turmoil. She stared at the ceiling of an enormous cavern that lay under the sands of the Silverwastes.

Liathlas shakily stood on her feet, using her staff to balance herself. She stumbled over to Ceara and flopped down next to her.

“Are…are you ok?” she asked, her voice quivering.

“I’m going to lay here… until the world stops spinning, no matter how long it takes.” Ceara replied, steadily staring at the hole from which they fell.

“Ok.” Liathlas gasped before falling over, seemingly passing out.

Ceara laid in the sand as the silence of the cavern became deafening. She watched the steady stream of sand fall from the opening above. Her thoughts drifted to the dream she had the night before.

“Another pale tree…” she thought to herself. “Does it exist? Is it true?” She focused on the image of the younger looking Avatar that appeared in front of her before being cut down.

“What was that blade? A dark version of caladbolg? Has that tree fallen? To Mordremoth? Or to nightmare? Or something else?” So many questions passed through her mind. “I have to find the answers…” she thought as she slowly sat up.

“Well, this is quite interesting.” she said quietly as she scanned the distant darkness. She pulled out her small lantern and set it on the ground in front of her, then proceeded to check her equipment for any damage from the fall.

“Well, everything seems in order.” She sighed, checking the barrel of her rifle. She started returning everything to their appropriate satchels. “Now, how do-“

“Shinies…” a rough voice growled in the darkness. Ceara rose to one knee instantly with her pistol drawn, holding the lamp in such a way that allowed the light to illuminate the area in front of her.

“Skritt?” she called out.

“You have…shinies…yes?” the voice asked. Ceara heard the sounds of movement against the rocks as a shadow darted away from the edge of the illuminated area. She quickly tried to follow the sounds, tracking them with her lamp.

“Give shinies to me…” it growled.

“Show yourself!” Ceara shouted. She heard more movement to her side. Turning, her light caught the creature perched on a nearby boulder. She gasped at what she saw. It was indeed a skritt, but not like any she had seen before. Its fur, discolored and full of mange, was covered in vines and small flowers.

“This can’t be real…” she muttered. The creature bared its teeth, hissing at her. It let out a loud screech as it launched itself at her. She instinctively fired a shot, knocking the skritt from the air. Hitting the ground, it writhed in pain. Ceara stood and cautiously moved towards it, her pistol at the ready. It turned and looked at her, the vines growing from its body, whipping back and forth.

“Shinies…” it growled one last time before Ceara shot it in the head.

“Even the skritt weren’t safe from it.” She said to herself glaring at the creature. Slowly she turned, shining her light around the area, scanning for anything else that might be a problem. Satisfied nothing else was out there she slowly made her way back to where Liathlas lay in the sand.

“I guess we’re stuck here until you decide to wake up.” Ceara sat down next to her, taking out the small packet of nuts she got from the centaur camp.

It wasn’t long before Liathlas stirred awake.

“Good morning, princess.” Ceara said as she closed a panel on one of her gauntlets.

“Ow…” Liathlas groaned as she slowly sat up. “What happened?”

“You saved the day, don’t you remember? Sadly…you didn’t return us to the castle.” Ceara stood. Liathlas looked up at her as Ceara extended her hand to help her stand. Liathlas glanced around.

“Where are we?”

“A cavern under the sands. We had an interesting visitor while you slept.”

“A visitor?”

“Yes.” Ceara moved over to the corpse that lay not far. Liathlas trailed behind her slowly.

“Is that…a skritt?” Liathlas gasped.

“Indeed, it was. Killed and resurrected by Mordremoth it seems.”

“Oh my.”  Liathlas said apprehensively. “Are there others?”

“None that I have seen…so far. We should get moving before anything else decides to pay us a visit.”

“But where do we go?” What direction?” Liathlas asked, rubbing the back of her head.

Ceara sighed as she pulled out her waypoint device. All of the closest waypoints she had stored were all back in the direction she had travelled.

“Thorns…” she muttered. She looked around the cavern, feeling a slight breeze in the air. She turned to the direction it seemed to be originating and pointed. ”That way.”

 The cavern seemed never-ending as the pair made their way through. Ceara using her lamp to illuminate the way. The end of Liathlas’s staff also glowed to help assist in lighting the cave.

“It seems to go on forever.” Liathlas stated. “Do you think we’ll ever get out?”

“We will. The breeze moves. Something is disturbing it. And hopefully we’ll find out what that something is.”

“I hope so.” Moments passed before Liathlas spoke again. “Ceara?”

“Hmm?”

“What is it you seek in the jungle?”

Ceara paused a moment, images of her dream quickly flashed through her mind. “Im looking…I’m looking for something important.”

“Well, I figured that. Won’t you tell me what it is?”  Ceara motioned for Liathlas to stop.

“What is it?” Liathlas asked quietly.

Ceara extinguished her lamp. “Dim your light.”

The light from her staff slowly faded. In the pitch darkness, the pairs bioluminescence glowed softly.

“Look. Far up ahead.” Ceara said quietly. There was a soft glow in the distance of the cavern.

“A way out?” Liathlas asked.

“Possibly. We should move quickly but be cautious.”

Ceara reignited her lamp. “Let’s go.” They quickened their pace. The ambient light of the cavern slowly grew brighter as they approached. It opened into a massive area with a pool of water in the center. The pair looked to the ceiling. In the distance, they could see structure, and small lights flickering about.

“Torches?” Liathlas asked.

“I think so. We need to get up there. Look around for anything that looks like a path!” The pair scrambled about searching along the rock walls.

“Here, I think I found something.” Ceara shouted across the cave. Liathlas rushed over to where Ceara was climbing over a pile of rocks. “There are stairs carved through here.” Liathlas climbed over the pile as well. They both stood staring up the incline. “Well, let’s go.”

It wasn’t long before one of the rock walls of the stairway gave way to the emptiness of the cavern.

“This is scary.” Liathlas muttered, glancing over the edge to the ground far below.

“Indeed. Who in Tyria would have made this?” The existing rock wall would soon start to show signs of previous habitation.

“Someone lived here?” Liathlas asked inquisitively. The pair stopped at the first door they found. An old wooden door connected by crude made iron straps showed little signs of deterioration in the dry desert air. Ceara slowly pushed it open, aiming her lamp inside. A simple room with no furnishing.

“Nothing.” Ceara said, looking over the room.

“Who would live in a place such as this?” Liathlas asked.

“I don’t know, but someone is here. Let’s continue.” The duo trekked up the stairs, passing more rooms like the first. Something fell past them as they continued the climb.

Liathlas brandished her staff. “What was that!?” Ceara pulled her pistol.

“I don’t know.” They slowly continued along the path upward.

“Too small, don’t need it.” They heard a meek squeaky voice higher up the stairway in the distance.

“Skritt?” Liathlas asked.

“I think so.” Ceara responded. They quietly crept along the route, slowly rounding a long curve as they heard more skritt chattering up ahead.

“This piece just right.”

“This piece in my room!”

“Bent metal. Good for support.”

Ceara extinguished her lamp as they came upon an area lit with torches. They found a group of skritt steadily searching through a pile of random wooden planks, bent metal and various other random items. Ceara stowed her lamp in her satchel, before stepping forward into the torchlight. The skritt turned to them.

“Visitors! This our pile! You leave now!” One yelled at the sylvari.

“We’re not here to take your things.” Ceara held her hands up in front of her. “We just want to leave this cavern and get back to the surface.”

“Oh, we take you! When Topsy-Turvy finished! We take you out of cavern!”

“Topsy-Turvy?” Liathlas asked as the pair looked at each other.

“Yes! Our ship! We build it! Soon it will be finished! And we leave! Sail to meet or brothers and sisters to the south!”

“Sail a ship? In the middle of the desert?” Ceara was slightly dumbfounded. “Where is this Topsy-Turvy?” Ceara asked inquisitively. “This is something I must see.”

“Come! Come! Follow!” One of the skritt started running up the stairs. Ceara and Liathlas hurried after him. As they rounded the bend, the two stopped, awestruck by what they saw. Indeed, there was a ship in the cavern. Precariously perched upside-down on ridges spanning the chasm. Skritt clamored all over it as they busily attached planks and random pieces of metal to the hull of the ship, chattering constantly as they worked. Ceara’s mouth hung open as she stood in silence.

“What…how?” Liathlas asked.

“I…I don’t…I don’t know…” Ceara said quietly, before busting out in laughter. “This is…this absurbly amazing, and…ridiculous at the same time!” She hurried up the rest of the stairs.

Liathlas followed grabbing her by the arm. “You shouldn’t berate them. They believe they can do this.”

Ceara snorted in laughter. “I’m not berating them. It’s just…I wish them well in their endeavor!” She said with a large grin on her face.

“Here! Here! Topsy-Turvy!” the skritt called out.

“I see…and you plan to sail this out of this cavern and across the sand?”

“Indeed! Here is plan!” he ran over to a giant board nailed to some makeshift posts. Various drawings and documents hung precariously by bend nails. Ceara looked over it all in amazement.

“This…this is…You actually have all this planned out?” she bit her bottom lip, stifling her laughter. She took a crude drawing of what she determined to be a plan to launch the ship out of the cavern. “I wish you good luck in your mission.” She said taking a deep breath turning to the skritt. “I think you will be able to make this happen. But my partner and I must be off. We have urgent matters to attend if you could show us a way out.”

“Yes! Yes! We will!” He ran towards another set of stairs. “Here! Here! Will take you up to surface!”

“Thank you kindly.” Ceara said to him. Liathlas waved to him as they started up the stairs.

“I can’t believe the way you belittled them.” Liathlas chided her.

“I didn’t belittle them. I simply wished them good luck in their impossible mission.”

“I could tell by the tone of your voice.” Liathlas criticized. “But still…how did such a ship even get into this cavern?” she asked perpelexed.

Ceara laughed as they continued up the stairs. “I don’t know.”  It wasn’t long before they saw hints of sunlight, as well as voices further up the incline.

“Do we really need to be here?” a woman’s voice was heard faintly.

“We were told to guard this stairwell.” A male voice returned.

“From what? The skritt?”

“You never know. Filthy rodents could end up stealing everything in the camp.”

“That’s unlikely.”

The sylvari once again extinguished their lights and crept up the stairs, settling low once they saw who the voices belonged to.

“Hmm…” Ceara thought to herself. “Krytan bandits.” She whispered.

“What do we do?” Liathlas asked. “I’m sure there are more of them outside.”

Ceara nodded. “Can you cloak with your abilities?”

“Yes, but not for long.”

“I have a plan. I’ll activate my own stealth shield and sneak past them. Once I get past, I’ll distract them, and you hit them when they aren’t looking.”

“Ok. Seems easy enough.”

“It’s a classic.” Ceara pressed a small button on her gauntlet and disappeared. She slowly crept past the guards, careful as not to brush against them. Once past them, she turned and shut off her field.

“Hello, pretties.” She said smiled at them.

“What the?” the male asked as he drew his sword, the woman pulled out a pair of daggers.

“Who in Tyria are you!?” the woman asked.

“Oh…really?” Ceara glared at them shaking her head in disappointment. “I’m so let down that brigands such as you don’t recognize the…” she sneered. ”Terror of Tyria.”

“What? You’re de-“ A field of eldritch energy appeared below the bandits feet, shocking them as a pair of Liathlas’s illusions made short work of them.

“Well, that was easy.” Ceara smiled at her partner. She knelt and checked the two. “Still alive, but I am sure they are going have a nasty headache when the wake.” She stood and looked at Liathlas. “Shall we?

“Let’s” Liathlas smiled back.

They neared the top of the stairway, the blue sky a welcoming site. But they also spied two more humans standing near the entrance to the cave.

“Who knows what lies ahead. Depending on what is out there, this could end very badly.” Ceara muttered. Liathlas nodded her head. They laid low on the stairway as they peeked over the steps the best they could. They found a small area with what looked like old mining equipment in major disrepair as well as a few ramshackled structures that looked as if they were about to collapse.

“This does not look promising at all.” Liathlas groaned. Ceara nodded in agreement. “Any plan?” Liathlas asked.

“We could go back and get the skritt. Tell them there is a pile of fresh shinies up here.” Ceara suggested.

“Are you mad!? That would surely send them to certain death!” Liathlas protested quietly. Ceara turned slowly, giving her a dirty look.

“What!?” Liathlas asked bluntly.

“Your choice of words hurt, Mesmer.”

“What are you talking about?” Liathlas replied. Ceara just shook her head and took a deep breath.

“Fine. We won’t get the skritt.”

“Can we just stealth ourselves out of here?” Liathlas asked.

“Would our stealth fields last long enough?”

“Hmm…but it might be our only chance. At least to get past these two guards so we can at least see if there is a way out of here.”

Ceara thought for a moment. “Ok…let’s do it.”

“Wait…” Liathlas grabbed Ceara’s arm.

“What?”

“How will we be able to see each other if we’re both cloaked?”

Ceara stared at her blankly before speaking. “Just…keep ahold of my hand.” She activated her stealth field as Liathlas cloaked herself. The duo crept up the stairs and hurried from the cave, ducking behind a pile of boulders nearby moments before their fields faded.

Ceara breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, first part is done.” They both peeked from behind the rocks. “I see the way out. Over there.”

“Ok.” Liathlas looked over the direction Ceara was facing.

“Too far for our fields to last.”

“What about illusions?”

“Can you project them that far?”

“I don’t think so.”

Ceara drew a deep breath as she tried to come up with a plan.

“Couldn’t you just shoot them with your rifle?”

“No. The noise would draw attention to us. What if…we stealth as far as we can, and as our fields wear off, you cast that stun field you have, and I’ll use my holograms to strike them. Should be quick enough to take them down and not draw any unwanted attention.”

“Ok.”

Ceara opened the panel on her gauntlet. “Ready…3, 2, 1…now.” She pressed the small switch and disappeared from view. Liathlas cloaked herself as well and the pair started their way towards the opening in the rock wall.

“Stun field now.” Ceara said quietly.

Liathlas’s eldritch field appeared below the guard’s feet, stunning them. Ceara’s stealth field waned and she summoned two holograms which attacked the bandits. Liathlas’s stealth cloak faded as well.

“WE GOT A PROBLEM OVER HERE!” a voice shouted from outside the wall.

“THORNS!” Ceara cursed as a handful of more bandits rushed through the opening. Liathlas summoned her illusions as Ceara quickly unslung her rifle and quickly fired a round at the oncoming group. The leyline powered bullet tore through them, dropping two instantly.

“What in Tyria was that!?” a woman shouted as she dove into the dirt. One of the bandits pointed his pistol and fired multiple shots at the sylvari. One round struck one of Ceara’s shoulder pauldrons, the other barely missed her. She instinctively pulled the trigger of the rifle, sending another charged bullet at the bandit. The round missed its mark, but the energy of the bullet knocked him off his feet as it passed.

“Fight fair!” another bandit yelled as he tried to fend off Liathlas’ clones. “Man to man…or whatever you are!” He slashed at the clones with a pair of knives to no avail. Liathlas heard gunshots behind them.

“More incoming behind us! Seems they heard our party!” she shouted.

“I figured that would happen. Get ready to run.” A bullet hit the ground next to Ceara. She spun around and fired another shot, causing the approaching group to scatter.

“Go now!” Liathlas bolted for the opening. Ceara activated her force field and ran behind her. Liathlas tripped and fell as the woman lying in the dirt reached for her ankle as she passed. Liathlas sneered at her and she drove the end of her staff into her forehead, sending a bolt of energy into the womans face. Ceara grabbed Liathlas by the arm and pulled her up and they headed through the opening and back out into the desert.

[moonlit-grove]

Pssst 2 and 14 for Vie pwease ? <3

babby vie :3

2 - Does your OC have a signature weapon they use? How did they get it? Does it have a name?

In Dragon of Time, she will eventually have her staff imbued with Nykai's magic. She originally got the staff from a Mordrem during Heart of Thorns, breaking it out of their hands and using it when she had nothing else. She hasn't named it, but once that comes, she will call it Eternal Patience.

In Scion AU, she will use a dagger form of Caladbolg, split between herself and Trahearne. It connects them no matter how far they are.

14 - Talk about a fight your OC lost.

D: (set in Scion AU)

Battling a Forged, she was far overpowered by its magic and hammer. As she scrambled with stealth to get away, her ankle was broken and sand had been dug and pulled into her eyes and mouth. She got lucky it got distracted by a Hydra, giving her enough time to get up and call Revas to get her out of there.

[ohpollenreblogs]

So, what if...corrupted sword is put there on purpose in the chamber where Trahearne is, neither he nor the Commander pick up on the corruption until it's too late. Trahearne's connection to the Tree and Dream is shattered, he appears dead for all observing but later comes back as Mordremoth's creature, scar and all. And Caladbolg pops out as its own person, marching right beside him as his "new" Commander.

thinkin again about the idea that caladbolg could be corrupted or fall under the influence of mordremoth

[mystery-salad]

70 for whoever you feel it works best!

Time to give a little more insight to That Moment :> Mar belongs to @ascalonianpicnic

“I’m not ready to say goodbye.”

Relief flooded through Cinnuit as the jungle returned to view, leaving the mind of Mordremoth behind like an unpleasant dream after Mar had struck the killing blow. It’d been downed with such precision and determination that there was no room for even considering an error as the group had been pulled back to the real world. To their guarded final stand.

To Trahearne...

He couldn’t help the tears of relief as he watched Mar talk quietly with his dearheart. Things would be okay, they’d get Trahearne down, probably take him to the Grove and see about healing. It was kind of funny to think he’d be the tallest of the group now...Mar just needed to cut him free. And it looked like they were about to, having picked up what remained of Caladbolg. Surely the sword of the Dream could cut him down safely like no other.

Except he saw them raise it, saw Trahearne’s head drop, and the sword descended-

“Mar don’t!” The shield was up before he’d even spoken. The remains of Caladbolg bounced harshly off at an angle, his outstretched arm twitching from the feeling. That blow had intent to it. Intent he could see in Mar’s eyes as they watched him rush to the platform to stand between the two, shield still at the ready as he placed a hand on Trahearne’s chest making sure he had truly made it in time. “What are you doing...we came all this way to help him. You killed Mordremoth already, he’s safe now.”

Even as he said the words, something felt wrong. A nagging in the back of his mind, one he was eager to ignore for the truth he was determined to see. “It’s not over, drop the shield.” Their voice wasn’t even harsh, and that’s what truly scared him when he turned to look at Mar. No genuine anger or frustration or sadness could be found on their face, no matter how hard he looked. There was just a quiet determination as they held Caladbolg at the ready. It chilled him through to see Mar facing the two of them like they had so many Mordrem to get here. “Mordremoth’s still in there, I need to end this.”

“In where, our friend?!” And yet that nagging in his head grew a little louder, like something trying to worm its way in. His fingers still pressed to Trahearne felt charged with energy at the tips. That was a worry for later though, right now he just needed to-

“He’s not our friend now. He belongs to the dragon and I need to end this.” Their words cut through his thoughts as cold as a steel blade, prompting him to instead strengthen the shield. “Did you not hear him? He spoke as Mordremoth. We all knew the risks of this Cinnuit, drop the shield so I can finish this for everyone.”

“No! There has to be another way, I-“ He turned back to Trahearne hoping his shield would last through whatever Mar might try with his back to them. “...I can find something...” he focused on where his hand met Trahearne’s chest. The charged feeling was spreading up his fingers now as his hand remained for another moment. The voice in his head, the apprehension he felt...it was so quiet, but it was there. He looked up to meet Trahearne’s unseeing eyes and nodded in response to the question nagging at him, in a familiar all-commanding voice he’d learned to recognize while exploring the jungle. A voice he was determined to fight for what felt like months, just to make it to the one he protects.

Trahearne was a powerful host for the dragon, but one that couldn’t do more for him. Mordremoth was trapped, stagnant, desperate. He needed a new body he could retreat and regroup in, such as the one reaching out to make a physical connection right now.

“I’m not ready to say goodbye,” Cinnuit heard the distant crash of Caladbolg against his shield again, Mar shouted something but it was drowned out by his own thoughts and those of a dragon growing ever closer. “I thought we had more time, years of fighting side by side.” He heard another crash as he leaned up to kiss Trahearne’s cheek, feeling his arm twitch as the shield began to weaken from the blows. “Don’t be mad at them, they’re doing what they need to. As am I.”

All it took was a nod, an open invitation into his own mind for the dragon to flee through. There’s a flash of white hot pain in his head and he’s not sure if the scream is one of pain from him, or one of triumph from the presence stretching and forcing into his very being. He held on though, not only welcoming but pulling the presence inward. Like poison sucked from a wound he pulled until he was sure he carried it all himself, leaving Trahearne sagged unconscious against his restraints.

Mordremoth’s voice pounded satisfied in his head louder than ever and he felt the vertigo of falling before he reached a hand out to keep from slamming his head into the ground. The presence told him to fall further, rest, let someone else take the reigns, pushed his vision to tunnel toward a welcoming darkness. He knew where that came from was not one of comfort though, he’d felt and seen far too much pain accompanying the echo throughout the forest. For a moment he could hold it off. Just long enough. And so he grits his teeth and defies the dragon one more time.

Mar’s face came into view as soon as the darkness fled once again, no longer muffled by the protection of a shield. Their determination was gone for what he realized was the first time since he’d met them. Instead their eyes held shock, and he felt a distant, nearly numb feeling of bemusement that he was the first to actually shake up the famously stalwart Commander.

“...what did you do...?” Caladbolg, though no longer held aloft, still rested in their hand humming with what little magic it still contained.

He swallowed down any inhibitions, the natural desire to move away from the danger he could see coming as he spoke with a voice that wavered from the dragon’s desire to be heard as well. “I fulfilled my Hunt. Please...fulfill yours.”

The last thing he saw was the sword he’d fought alongside of being raised toward him. He hadn’t known Mar could look so sad.

[probably-guinea-pigs]

Knight of the Thorn

“I don’t deserve this.”

The Pale Tree’s smile falters with the glow of her blessed thorn, Caladbolg. Zinnhari Warcharger, Centurion of Blood Legion, Warmaster of the Vigil, Commander of the Pact, Dragon Slayer, has rejected her offer to add another title to his repertoire.

“Of course you do—”

“No, you don’t understand. One charr wielding the sacred blade of another race is bad enough, even if it was found in our homelands.” The massive white-and-ginger charr stands from where he had kneeled before the Pale Mother as the small audience murmurs in shock. “I can not take this from your people. It belongs in the hands of a sylvari.” The Pale Tree muses over his words as the giant before her holds her gaze.

“Trahearne would want you to have it.”

“Trahearne is dead,” Zinn says, swallowing a growl as his fur bristles. She will not use him to guilt the charr into accepting this so-called gift. “Your secret killed him and countless members of the Pact.” The murmuring halts as the Pale Tree’s leaves flutter with the accusation.

“If not you, then who would receive the blade?” she asks, deciding to deflect rather than confront. She reaches out to her children to soothe them—he has a right to his anger.

“I will leave it with Trahearne’s body. There will be more like him, more heroes who will forge a legend defending innocents from those who seek to harm, and they can take up the blade if and when they’re ready.” Zinn looks around the Omphalos Chamber and turns his back on the Pale Tree to face the sylvari people. “Trahearne’s legacy is not contained within me, or within a sword. It is in all of you. Honor his legacy by striving, each day, to make the world a better place. Every one of you here has heard the call of the dragon and resisted—every one of you is a hero in your own right. It is not my right to take from you the chance to come into your own, to have your own legends and stories and songs as you and your people flourish.” The energy turns from animosity, to curiosity, to pride, to wonder.

“I was here when your race was brought into this world. In the short years you’ve been here, you’ve grown your own identity as a people. You’ve struggled and came out on top. You’ve sacrificed for outsiders you’ve never met. From your young race, you produced the best leader I’ve ever had the honor of following into battle. You are not of the dragon; you are beyond that now. You are sylvari.” He raises Caladbolg as the sword glows brightly. “And you are free!”

A ringing cheer sounds through the chamber and spreads throughout the Grove, rippling and blooming even as Zinn departs from the chamber.

--

Happy chatter falls on deaf ears as Zinn makes the trudge to the entrance of the Grove. Caladbolg feels too heavy on his back. Coming or going, it feels unbearably long before he sees the memorial in his sight. Maybe a part of him still doesn’t want to see it at all.

His newest companion, a young smokescale, bumbles alongside him as he approaches the giant statue of Marshal Trahearne. He stops. He looks up. “Burn me… I still can’t believe he’s gone.” He sighs heavily and lifts himself up the wall to sit at the base of the statue. The smokescale eagerly ports itself into his lap. “Hey Fluffy,” Zinn rumbles quietly, stroking the off-white mane gently as the strange Maguuma creature gets comfortable in the dip between his crossed legs. “Did I ever tell you about the Marshal?”

-

“… I wish I had gotten to tell him I loved him. I was too scared,” he sighs. Fluffy rumbles quietly in time with Zinn’s breaths. A clawed hand runs over the blade of Caladbolg. “It still feels like a part of him… I’m so sorry.” A tear slides down his muzzle and lands on one of its ever-blooming flowers. He shoulders the blade as Fluffy jumps from his lap, and they make their way into the dense foliage behind the statue to Trahearne’s grave.

Held upright within a tree, his once vibrant foliage browning and wilted, hands across his chest with his eyes downcast, Trahearne looks just as beautiful in the eyes of his Commander as he ever did. Patches of his face and all of his legs had turned to Mordrem, but his heart remained untouched. Zinn walks slowly, reverently up to the body to press their foreheads together. “I have your blade, Trahearne. Thank you for deeming me worthy of it, but I can’t take it…  I can’t wield the weapon I used to kill you.” He shuts his eyes and takes a slow breath, Caladbolg glowing and fading with the rise and fall of his chest. Large, shaking hands gently open the Marshal’s much more delicate fingers to have him grasp the hilt, the tree moving and growing to accommodate the new weight.

“There… be honored as the warrior who battled his own mind, and won. My warband will carry your flame,” the charr promises, resting his weight on his hackles to look up at Trahearne. Silent sorrow streams down his cheeks. “I failed you. I’m so sorry. When I join you in the Mists, I will make it up to you.” He’s silent for a time, fighting the sobs wracking his body.

“… I love you, Trahearne. I’m sorry I was too much of a coward to tell you when you were alive. I wish… I wish I was there when the airship fell. I wish I could have saved you.”

Caladbolg glows brightly as Zinn buries his face in his hands to cry. Here, alone in the thickest, darkest forest of the Grove, the Commander finally steals a moment to grieve for his lost love. The light envelops the two bodies—one hollow, one overflowing—and holds them as if to offer comfort.

Minutes pass like hours as Zinn drains himself of all his feelings, and all his energy. He plops onto the ground with a solid thump, out of breath and bent with exhaustion. Fluffy burrows into his arms, trying to bring him back.

A crack of magic sounds through the Grove, causing Zinn to stumble to his feet and draw his weapon. He can feel himself shake under the strain; he’s never felt so weak in his life. The vine-like tree that contains Trahearne rattles to life: growing, winding, flowering, dying, and then receding into the ground, leaving only the body standing upright. Zinn lunges forward, his knees hitting the ground again, to catch the Marshal before he falls.

“What—how—Trahearne?” Zinn whispers, clutching the warming body tightly against his chest.

“Oh, my dear Commander… I love you, too.”