#wanted to see if i could make one look like her nightmares about Mordremoth

[valiant-portabella-pirkko]

“... I don’t know what’s real and what isn’t anymore.”

[icebrooding]

Fic: Astragalus

The commander wakes to find Aurene by one side, and Trahearne by another. It isn't the world he's used to, where he searched for the shards of his heart alongside the shards of Caladbolg. Part of an AU where Trahearne survives Heart of Thorns.

On AO3

“—ander… up…”

A little groan and a turn of the head.

“—Commander.”

“Five more minutes…” He grumbles, leaning further against a somewhat hard surface; something a bit… scaly? How odd, none of his pillows have been made from scales before… Unless—

Kaushue sits up abruptly. “I’m awake, I’m awake!”

His ‘pillow’ chirps in delight, finding amusement in his bewilderment, and he feels a slight heat in his face, bark radiating an ice-blue glow. He gently runs a hand across Aurene’s back, thanking her for playing the part of impromptu bedding.

“That was quite the fetching sight, you must know,” he hears a voice from above where he sits, “the Pact commander curled up asleep against a dragon hatchling.”

Kaushue looks up, and feels a bit winded at the familiar shades of green and yellow.

Trahearne takes a seat by them on the ground, reaching out to pet under Aurene’s chin affectionately. She purrs, clearly pleased.

“Trahearne…” Kaushue begins, but can’t find the words. “But, Mordremoth… how…?”

The older sylvari raises his brow, confusion writ across his face. “Mordremoth? Commander, are you feeling alright?”

No, he wants to say. He can remember it clearly, the nausea and fear that coursed through him as they had finally caught up and saw the vile, twisted things that Mordremoth had done to Trahearne. He could never forget something like that, could never forget what he… had to do.

He could never forget waking up some mornings, long before the others, and just laying there in silence staring at Caladbolg where it remained at his bedside, shattered.

He startles when he feels fingers gently brush at his eyes. He looks up, confused, and sees the way Aurene and Trahearne both look at him with concern.

“You’re crying.”

“I… am?” He raises a hand to his face, and his fingers come away damp. “I’m sorry, I don’t… quite understand what’s going on.”

“It seems you had quite the nightmare.” Trahearne says softly. He shuffles closer on his spot, pressing up against Kaushue’s side. The commander lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding and leans into Trahearne as the man asks, “do you want to talk about it?”

“A nightmare…?” It would make sense. Of course, it had to have just been a nightmare—a horrific, awful nightmare. Kaushue takes a deep breath. “I’d rather not talk about it. Not right now.”

A moment later, he feels fingers rustle through his leaves comfortingly, and can’t help but lean his head into it. A little bit of affection is sorely welcomed. “That’s fine. I came to fetch you, but I think you deserve some more time to rest.”

Aurene chirps loudly, fluttering her small wings. She looks happy—but when does she not? Kaushue has no idea if dragons can smile, but the girl appears to have no other expression. He can’t help but chuckle. “Time for another nap with Aurene? Are you quite sure? I take it’s not some world-ending crisis this time, then?”

“Another update on the Primordus-Jormag situation, but it isn’t so dire that you cannot take a few more minutes.” Trahearne slowly retracts his hand, allowing it to fall between them, where it lands atop Kaushue’s. “…And as thankful as I am to her, I felt I needed a small reprieve from Taimi’s constant communications. She can be very… loud, with her personality at times.”

“That’s Taimi all right.” He loves the kid, he does, but asura in general have always exhausted him, and she is no exception. “You say Primordus and Jormag… so then, Mordremoth really is…?”

“I, yes?” Trahearne gives him a strange look. “It's been several months by now. Surely you haven’t forgotten?”

“I’m sorry, I suppose my nightmare muddled my memories. How did it all…?”

The older sylvari pauses for a moment before taking a breath. “We lost many people to the dragon. Many more than I had anticipated.” His fingers slip between Kaushue’s, squeezing him. “If not for you and the others, the casualties would have been beyond catastrophic. Irrecoverable.” 

“I… remember that much.” Although he wishes he could forget just how many brothers and sisters he had to cut down, minds and bodies claimed by that monster.

“I was...” Trahearne takes a deep breath before he continues, and Kaushue can feel his insides twist and turn uncomfortably. “You found me before Mordremoth could fully claim my mind, but… we nearly lost you in the process. As we nearly did Caithe, and Canach.”

Kaushue blinks—he can’t seem to remember any of it. He digs through his memories, but it feels like they’ve all been replaced by those of his nightmare instead. “Nearly lost us?”

“You were so desperate to save me. You talked about some purification ritual you witnessed in Arah—”

“Twitchy!” 

Trahearne jolts at the sudden yell. “…Yes, something about a chicken.”

He clears his throat, continuing. “But there wasn’t time, so you took me back to Rata Novus, even though you knew the risks if I were to turn…”

“This is insanity, I do hope you know that, Commander.”

Kaushue paces back and forth, tugging at his leaves in frustration. “Insanity seems like our only option right now!” He barks.

They have Trahearne restrained to a table, but there is no telling if the restraints would be even slightly worth it were he to succumb to Mordremoth. The man is unconscious, but moans every so often to indicate the pain and duress he is under.

“Mordremoth clearly wants him for something—this isn’t just about my feelings, about—” He tries to fight the burning in his eyes. “And whatever that something is, it can’t be good for us.”

Rytlock goes to open his mouth, but the commander holds up a hand to silence him. “Killing him will do nothing, you’ve seen that Mordremoth doesn’t particularly care for the status of his puppets.”

Canach motions towards Trahearne with his sword. “From what the Pact soldiers kept saying, he’d probably prefer this one dead. Less struggle.”

Kaushue turns to scold his brother for the off-colour quip, but instead decides to shrug it off with a sigh. He wishes Jory were here to help keep things grounded, but he’d already excused her to catch up with Kas and Rox. If things truly were dire, he’d rather they’d have their time together.

It wasn’t like there was much any of them could do now. Anyone perhaps…

He looks back over to the table, where Taimi comes and goes as fast as she can manage, checking between some apparatus or other and the corrupted sylvari. She hums, and rejects when Braham, unable to handle the waiting and clearly antsy, offers to carry her.

“According to my readings, the magic frequency coming from Trahearne is almost identical to Mordremoth’s right now.” She murmurs, biting at her clawed thumb. “If we want any chance at saving him, we need to separate the two, and we need to do it ASAP.”

“So, what?” Braham asks, heaving his weapons up, ready to storm back out. “We go back to the Stand and join the rest of the Pact in beating the dragon six ways to Sunday? I’m up for it.”

“Something tells me that ain’t gonna work, kid.” Huffs Rytlock. “Things are never that easy for us.”

“No, we need to cut it off at the source.” The tiny Asura says, pondering to herself. “He has Trahearne’s mind captivated… Now, how do you go about separating something from your mind…”

Caithe slinks out of the darkness of a nearby corner, glancing at her corruption-ravaged brother on the table. They may never have been the closest, but she would rather not have to put him to rest as well. “Kaushue, do you remember when we met?” She asks, tilting her head towards the commander.

“In the Dream? Yes, what about it?”

“The Shadow of the Dragon,” she says,”we had to drive it off to prevent it tainting the Dream.”

“…Are you saying you think we can fight Mordremoth in the same way?” He asks incredulously. It sounds far-fetched to his ears, but the more he ponders it over, the more sense it makes.

“It’s just a guess, but I believe if we can destroy Mordremoth’s mind, we could still free Trahearne. And all sylvari.” Guilt is apparent in her eyes—she wants, no, needs to do right by her people, even just this once. She does not again utter her fear that the dragon's demise could mean the end for their people. She has voiced it well enough, and knows the commander agrees. It will be better this way, regardless of the consequences.

“Wonderful idea, however, there’s a major flaw in it,” pipes up Taimi from one of the other tables, looking at various implements and objects Kaushue could barely begin to describe.

“We don’t have the luxury of time to head back to the Grove and petition a critically injured tree.” Rytlock grunts, folding his arms over his chest.

Kaushue grits his teeth in anger, hands trembling as he balls them up. “Then we’re doomed, aren’t we? If Caithe is right, which, despite everything, I’m giving her the benefit of the doubt on, there is no other way to truly kill Mordremoth.” He spins on his heel and looks at his friends, sees their worry, their frustration, their anger. They are all in the same boat, but they are looking to him for the solution. He has nothing. Only doubt. “The Pact and our other allies are still fighting in Dragon's Stand as we speak, and if we can’t access the Dream, they will all die out there.” He says softly, more defeated than he has ever felt.

Braham begins to open his mouth, but is cut off abruptly.

“Woah there, big guy!” Cries out Taimi from behind them, leaping off her chair.

They all turn to look, and find Trahearne stirring, blearily looking around the room as if trying to find something. He does not try to pull against the restraints, so Kaushue motions for the others to lower their weapons.

“Commander…” The man weakly murmurs.

Aware it could be a trap, Kaushue approaches cautiously, looking down at his marshal. “Yes?” He asks, voice quiet and gentle.

“I heard your voice. My connection to the dragon,” he begins, pausing to wince momentarily, “it allows me to access the Dream…”

“Can you send us in?” Caithe asks without hesitation, briskly walking up to her brothers. “Like Mother was able to?”

“I believe so.” Trahearne takes a deep inhale, squeezing his eyes shut. “It is hard to resist, but if you can find Mordremoth in the Dream, then…”

Kaushue reaches out, taking one of Trahearne’s ragged hands in his own. He holds tight, squeezing him. “Send me in. I’m going to destroy Mordremoth.”

A hand tugs on his shoulder, and he pulls back to look at Caithe. Her expression is grim, but he can’t fathom why. They have their solution right there. “Kaushue, if you go in, you may never come back.” She says. “Mother was there to pull us back out in the past, but if we sever their connection, Trahearne may have no way of doing so for us.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “I don’t care.”

“…Very well.”

A dark shade falls over the two, and they turn their eyes upwards to their larger, bulkier companions, faces both set in matching scowls.

“So you’re going on a suicide mission…” Rytlock starts—

“Without us?” —And Braham finishes.

Kaushue lets go of Trahearne’s hand to properly face his companions. Despite it all, he can only grin at them. “Well, one of you still has a legend in the making”, he pokes Braham in the chest, then turns to the charr, “and someone needs to make sure Logan is okay when he wakes up again.”

Braham smiles, even if he doesn’t quite like the idea of being left out, and Rytlock just grunts and shifts on his spot.

“Someone also needs to stay and protect Taimi in case the worst happens.” He glances over at her and she pouts slightly. “Not that I don’t trust her, but one asura versus a hulking great mordrem with the power of an elder dragon? The odds aren’t great.”

Braham heaves his weapons up once more, determination on his face. “Got it, boss.”

A cough to the side makes the commander turn his gaze. “Forgetting someone, are we?” Canach has his sword and shield out and at the ready.

“Sorry, didn’t think you were one for suicide missions.” Kaushue says with a small shrug.

“I’m not. I am, however, one for choosing my fate, and dead-but-free sounds preferable to being some miserable dragon’s little plaything.” He scowls, looking disgusted. “I have had quite much of being a plaything.”

“Then it’s decided,” Kaushue says, looking back to Trahearne. “As sylvari, we’ll settle what Mordremoth started—no matter what.”

Kaushue can’t help but flush a bit as Trahearne’s tale trails off, admitting he was hardly lucid enough to understand what had happened after the three had departed. Not that it particularly matters too much, the fact he is here and sat with Trahearne and Aurene more than enough evidence that they succeeded.

“I certainly hope I thanked them enough afterwards…” the commander mumbles to himself, feeling a bit sheepish. It is certainly a bit awkward to realise just how much danger he put everyone in.

“Well, Canach was very… prideful, in the aftermath. I suppose slaying an elder dragon does that to you.” Trahearne says with a soft chuckle. “I get the feeling from him he’s going to ask for some favour I can’t refuse thanks to him helping save me.”

A chuckle escapes the young sylvari too, only to then turn to hiccups, and then sobbing.

There is a moment before the commander feels Trahearne’s hands gently around him, pulling him against the other man’s chest and into the comfort of those familiar, crisp leaves, the smooth bark that pattern he’s come to know as well as his own. Trahearne’s arms are tight around him, comforting, protecting. One hand strokes his back in slow, gentle circles, the other carding through the dark leaves of his hair.

It is what Trahearne has done for him each and every time he failed at being strong enough to keep it together.

Aurene trills again in upset-sounding tones. Kaushue can only assume she is trying to alleviate his state when she tries to curl up tightly around him and Trahearne.

“Kaushue,” Trahearne whispers softly, “what’s wrong? I’ve hardly ever seen you so upset.”

How could he explain it? He doesn’t want to talk about the things he saw in his nightmare, hopes that if he keeps quiet then it will all just go away.

He doesn’t want to tell Trahearne about what he saw.

“I’m just,” he wails instead, “so glad you’re here.”

The other man’s gaze softens. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out the nature of his lover’s nightmare. He’s had them too, or rather, ones like it. When Kaushue’s sister, Aileana, had come to him in private long ago and told him of what their brother Iowerth had shown her in Lychcroft Mere. It haunted him, followed him into his sleep and into his nightmares.

He shuts his eyes and buries his nose into the man’s leaves, thankful that at the very least Kaushue’s nightmare was just that. A nightmare.

They stay there like that until his sobs slowly ebb away into nothing more than sniffles. And when he eventually pulls back, Kaushue’s face is flushed. He winces at the mess he’d made of Trahearne’s leaves. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs quietly.

Trahearne shakes his head, “it hardly matters. Do you feel better?”

“Yeah… Yeah, I do. Thank you, Trahearne.”

He looks up at his partner, and Trahearne only lets out a small breath, leaning in to give him the briefest of kisses. They both glow a little when they hear Aurene make curious, inquisitive noises from where she still cushioned them both like some sort of chair.

“Oh, that’s right, dragons… Right, right. Primordus, and Jormag…” Kaushue says, not realising how much time they’d let past while Trahearne jogged his memory.

The two stand slowly, and Aurene hops to her feet. She runs about their legs like a cat, albeit a cat perhaps a dozen sizes too large. She nuzzles the commander’s leg for a moment, almost purring in her array of noises.

“Like I said, it’s nothing major. Some minor magical disturbances, but no attacks or anything of the sort.” Trahearne says as they step down from the high platform where Aurene spends her days. “Taimi just wanted me to let you know, since we were both already here.”

Kaushue shakes his head a little, motioning to himself. “Sorry, still a bit dazed, although more’s coming back now. Why are you in Tarir?” He asks, nearly tripping over Aurene as she darts between his legs.

“Part of what I wasn’t lucid enough to understand, but the general idea is that they managed to… syphon the excess dragon magic that remained in me after Mordremoth’s death.” Trahearne frowns, like he still can’t quite grasp it. “I was unconscious for a very long time after you killed the dragon.”

“So they… sucked Mordremoth’s corruption out of you?” The commander joins Trahearne in his frown. It seems rather simple, but it probably was some ridiculous combination of Taimi’s incomprehensible work and the Exalted’s talents.

“Not quite, I don’t think. They managed to divert it to Aurene’s egg,” she trills at the mention of herself, rubbing against Trahearne’s leg too. “It was how she hatched. I think she thinks I’m her father. Or one of them at least.”

Kaushue flushes heavily at the implication.

"It's why Caithe isn't here right now, by the way," Trahearne looks over at him with a teasing grin, "said that Aurene needed some 'father-figure-daughter bonding time' alone. I suppose that's me while you're away."

The commander hides his luminous face behind his hands.

“Anyway," he continues, returning to his original point, "they wanted me to remain here for a time to make sure that none of Mordremoth’s magic lingered in me.” Trahearne says as he reaches down to scritch the hatchling’s chin once more. They have come to the exit of the egg chamber, and Kaushue also opts to fuss the girl before they move on.

They step out of the room, the large door shutting behind them. “What about the Pact, then?”

��Officially, Logan has been appointed Acting Marshal and is in charge of operating things while I am in ‘rehabilitation’.” Trahearne looks up, somewhat sombre. “The truth is that I want to pass the position to him permanently. Tyria isn’t trusting of us sylvari anymore, and he has the qualities that could bring back trust and support to the Pact.”

“I see.”

“I’m not fit to lead an army after what happened. Both in terms of confidence and physical health.” He continues as they walk, kicking up small stones and dirt along the path. “But our little guild, that’s a good fit for me, I think.”

Kaushue helps him along the rubble and up to the mushrooms, following him as they ascend towards the main area of the city. “If it helps at all, I think I prefer things this way.”

They land on the soft grass above and take the sight in around them—it never really gets old or familiar, the towering structures of gold with trees hanging high overhead. Sometimes it’s hard to believe such a grand city thrived for so long out here, unknown to most.

“I can’t say I miss never having enough time to spend just with you.” Trahearne says softly, reaching out for the commander’s hand. They fit together well, ice blue on verdant green

“I can’t either.” He leans into the other man for a few moments, uncaring that the Exalted wandering around could easily see them. Perhaps they wouldn’t be so pleased about PDA in the middle of their city, but if that’s the case then they scarce show it.

“Now,” he continues, looking back and forth between the four sets of golden steps, “if you can’t come back with me just yet, you can at least accompany me out of the city.”

Trahearne chuckles and allows himself to be pulled along by the younger sylvari. “Of course.”

[brax-was-here]

Scarlet Briar: The Seeds of Life Chapter 1

Written by: Braxxus

Chapter 1: Just Walk Away From It

Sometimes we try to change the past

The fresh air of the Brisban Wildlands greeted Ceara as she exited the waypoint beam in the sylvari village at Zinder’s Slope. The warm environment was welcoming compared to the frigid cold she had just experienced at the Durmond Priory. The pleasant smells of the village greeted her nose, which she breathed deep. The sounds of the forest filled her ears, a stark contrast to the deathly silence of the halls of the priory. She looked over the surroundings. Citizens of the village going about their daily lives, paying no mind to her. Unhooking the clasp of her cloak, she started walking up the gentle incline of the hillside towards Amaranda’s home.

“Home…” she thought to herself as she looked at the small sylvari structure at the top of the hill. She thought back to the years spent travelling around in her life, never settling in one place for very long. Until dark times took control of her. She paused her ascent, taking a moment to look out over the river that ran nearby. Her thoughts drifted to those months living in the damp cave under the Durmond Priory.

“I never thought I would ever have a home.” She said quietly to herself as she looked down at the dirt path. She kicked at a small stone that lay in front of her.

“Come home, my child.” the voice of the Pale Tree drifted through her mind.

“Mother…” she whispered.

“It’s time for you to come home.” The voice of the Aspect thundered through her memory. She closed her eyes, her brow furrowing at the thought.

“No…” she thought to herself, forcing the image of her ghostly doppelganger from her mind. She sighed and continued up the path.

“There, there. Now, you’ll grow stronger.” Amaranda spoke softly to one of the plants outside of her home.  Tending to their needs, nurturing them gently when she noticed Ceara coming up the path.

“The prodigal daughter as returned.” she spoke softly to herself as she smiled lightly. She went inside and started gathering together a bowl of fruits and getting a container of juice ready. She placed them on a low table as Ceara entered the home. The pleasant smell of lavender greeted Ceara’s nose as she stepped through the threshold.

“Welcome home. Any news from the Priory?” Amaranda asked.

“Nothing new.” Ceara replied removing her cloak and hanging it on a nearby hook. She sat on a small stool and removed her boots, stretching out her legs before kneeling at the table. “They said that…since the demise of Mordremoth, activity in the blade had diminished but they still keep it heavily warded.” She plucked a strawberry from the bowl. Amaranda poured a leafy cup full of juice and set it front of Ceara before sitting across from her sister.  

“Do you think…Do you think it gone?” Amaranda asked grabbing an orange from the bowl and slicing it open.

“I don’t think so. I could still feel it while I was there. It was trying to break free, but it’s severely weakened. The asura cutting it off from any energy source really did damage to it.”

“Well, I hope it stays that way. I would hate to think what would happen if it got out again.” Amaranda started cutting the orange into slices.

Ceara stared out of the front door, watching a pair of dragonflies dance around a small bush just outside. She slowly chewed on the strawberry as she thought about Amaranda’s book in the Priory. Amaranda looked up at her sister, realizing she was lost in thought.

“What’s on your mind?” Amaranda finally asked after a few moments. Ceara turned back to her, staring at her somewhat blankly.

“Well?” Amaranda asked, taking a bite of one of the orange slices.

“Tell me about Malyck.” Ceara finally said taking a drink from her cup.

“Malyck? Why?”

“I’m just curious, is all. What was he like?”

Amaranda sighed as she remembered the strange sylvari Trahearne had brought to her. A sylvari not of the Pale Tree, but another tree. A sylvari with no connection to the Dream nor Nightmare.

“He was an enigma, to say the least. Not a sylvari like us. Different. No connection to the Dream. His pod was found just up the river actually. A pod from another tree possi-“ Amaranda paused as she looked at her sister, who was smiling impishly.

“What are…” Amaranda paused a moment. “No!” she snapped sternly when she realized what Ceara was thinking.

“What?”

“No!”

“Why not!?”

“I am not going to help you look for him or some other tree!”

“But why not!?’

“I’ve had enough adventure recently to last a lifetime!”

“But it will be fun!”

“Remind me to discuss your definition of ‘fun’ sometime, Ceara.”

“Oh, come on. Do you just want to stay here for the rest of your life? Live a little!”

“I am living. And I don’t consider travelling right into the front yard of our creator ‘fun’. You’ve heard about the creatures roaming around in the jungle. Some of them were sylvari at one time.”

“But Mordremoth is dead. There’s nothing that we couldn’t handle. Look what we did in Lion’s Arch.”

“Yes, and it could have killed us. No thank you.”

“Feh!” Ceara spat.

“How about finding someone to settle down with. To spend your time peacefully enjoying a quiet life with someone else?’

“Well there is-“

“Someone not named Lord Faren.” Amaranda spoke bluntly.

Ceara looked at her sister somewhat perturbed. “He’s a fine man!” she rebuttled.

Amaranda looked at her, a look of disbelief on her face before snorting a small laugh.

“Really?” Ceara shot back at her. Amaranda shook her head.

“Dear sister…you have much to learn.” She said with a smile on her face.

“’You have much to learn.’” Ceara repeated, snidely mocking her sister. Amaranda laughed as she finished her orange.

“I’m leaving in the morning to travel into the jungle.” Ceara said abruptly

Amaranda looked up at her. “You’re seriously going to look for this other tree? It’s not even known if it exists. And even worse, if it does exist, we don’t know if Mordremoth attacked it as he attacked mother. It may be full of his creatures now.”

“Well, that’s what I’m going to find out.”

Amaranda sighed, as she took a sip of her juice, shaking her head lightly. “I know I can’t stop you. But…just…be careful. Make sure your waypoint device is working.”

“Aren’t I always?” Ceara asked with a smile. Amaranda slowly shook her head as she gently set her cup on the table.

 The sun was rose slowly in the morning sky as Ceara arrived at the waypoint furthest west for which she had coordinates. She exited the beam near an area in the far southwest part of the wildlands dubbed “Tangle Root”. Most likely due to the fact that the area is believed to be where Mordremoth had managed to break through and spread his influence throughout Tyria. The dry air gave a hint of where she was heading. A slight shudder went down her spine as she saw the remains of Mordremoth’s large vines protruding from the limestone ridges that surrounded the area.

“You were my champion.” The jungle dragon’s voice rumbled through her mind. Closing her eyes, she focused the memory away. She breathed deep before slowly opening them. It would still take her a day to get through the chasm filled borderlands between the wildlands and the desert wastes of Maguuma. She had decided to stop by the small mining town of Prosperity to check to see if any of the things she left behind were still there.

“This would have been so much easier with my old transporter.” She thought to herself. She had left it behind when she moved her operations from the cave in Lornar’s Pass to the Breachmaker. “I guess the Priory has it now.” She wondered. “Or that little asuran girl with the crooked walk.”  Her brow furrowed at the thought.

The Seraph outpost near the edge of the canyon that would lead her to the Dry Top region of the wastes was quiet. Two guards manned the perimeter. Her thoughts drifted back to the first time she had passed through this area as she approached.

“Im just passing through to the desert regions. I’m going to study the plants that live there! I’ve heard they are so much different than anything I’ve seen here!” she happily lied to the Seraph that were stationed at the outpost at the time, covering up her true reason for heading into the desert. To this day she still wasn’t sure if that was a lie she made up as her own or if it was brought forth by the Aspect that was residing in her mind in those dark days. The outpost seemed lightly manned. Just a few troops scattered about going about their mundane tasks.

“Hopefully, this works.” She thought to herself as she opened a small panel on one of her gauntlets and pressed a tiny, illuminated button. She was enveloped in a light bending field that caused her to turn seemingly invisible. She quickened her pace as she knew the field would not last long.

The hours passed by as she made her way through the twisting canyon. She rarely saw a Seraph patrol, and when she did, she was able to easily hide and get passed them. A few travellers were also passing through the canyon as well.  

“This was a bandit route in the past. I guess the rise of Mordremoth changed things.” She thought to herself. Midday had come and gone, and the walls of the canyon had started to change. She recognized the vines that were weaving throughout the limestone rock. She approached one slowly, cautiously reaching out and placing her hand upon it. The outer skin dried and fragile, broke and splintered at her touch. She slowly closed her fingers, digging them into the dried vine, pieces of it splintering in her grip as her hand closed into a fist. A feeling of anger was forming in the pit of her stomach, as a tear rolled down her cheek.

“This thing. This took control of me. This is what drove me to madness…” Her angered scream echoed through the canyon as she smashed both of her fists down, shattering the section of vine, sending shards in all directions. She choked back the tears as she cleared her thoughts. She stood in silence for a moment, her breathing heavy as she calmed herself.

“I’m sure someone heard me.” She thought as she looked into the distance, down the path her journey was taking her.

The hours rolled on. The sun was low in the sky as Ceara neared the western end of the canyon. Soon the desert expanse of Dry Top would stretch out in front of her as the path curved slightly northward. As the mouth of the canyon gave way to the arid desert, she paused at the scene that lay before her.

“The Zephyrites?” she thought to herself as she gazed upon the wreckage of the Zephyrite airship. Its structure strewn across the desert, twisted and broken like a pile of twigs she would find in Caledon Forest. Off in the far distance, she could make out the small buildings of the town of Properity. Dimly lit windows dotted the dark face of the far cliffs. She took a drink of water from her canteen before making her way down the pathway along the cliff face.

“What happened here?” She thought to herself as she surveyed the wreckage during her decent. As the pathway emptied out at the bottom of the cliff, she felt uneasy as parts of the airship slowly creaked and groaned in the desert breeze. Not even the smallest of animals were to be seen throughout the crash site.

“Did… was this Mordremoth’s doing?” she pondered quietly to herself. She paused a moment. “If it was…then…” Her heart sank. She closed her eyes a moment before taking a deep breath. “I…I can’t think about this now.” She continued moving through the wreckage. She took note of possible remains of footprints in the sand around large pieces of the destroyed structure.

“Someone survived, I guess. Or bandits. Looks like some asura as well. Also, I haven’t seen any of their special crystals.” She glanced at the sun, which was dipping below the far cliffs.

“The wind is picking up. Maybe a sandstorm blowing in.” She thought. She pulled her scarf up, covering the lower half of her face and placed her goggles over her eyes. Lastly, she pulled the hood of her cloak up.

“I may not make it to the town in time.” She thought as she quickly scanned the wreckage for anything to make a temporary shelter. Grabbing some broken beams and some battered panels, she managed to fashion a small shelter against an alcove in a pile of nearby boulders. She quickly grabbed more materials to help reinforce it against the blowing wind.

“I guess I’m staying the night here. Not what I had planned at all.” She said to herself as she closed the makeshift door, securing it behind her as the wind buffeted the small building.

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The mid-morning sun shone brightly over Properity, a small mining town that also acts as a waystation for travelers passing through the Maguuma Wastes. The towns inhabitants were going about their daily routines. Some heading towards the mine to work, others taking care of business around the town. A particular duo was busily leaning against the town well when they noticed a familiar sylvari approaching. They watched as she crossed one of the bridges over the river of quicksand that helped to protect the town from danger.

“Is that…is that who I think it is?” the asura spoke to his charr compatriot.

“I…I think so. Never thought we would see her again.” The charr replied.

“I hope she doesn’t want to see her place. Think she’s gonna be a tad upset when she sees what that crew did to it.” The asura said, taking a sip of his whiskey.

Ceara paused while crossing the bridge into Prosperity. She could see remains of Mordremoth’s giant thorned vines sticking out of the cliff walls surrounding the northern part of the town.  

“It’s amazing they survived him.” She thought to herself. She continued across the bridge, immediately noticing a waypoint beacon set up nearby.

“Well that’s very convenient.” She smiled to herself as she pulled out her waypoint device and calibrated it. She then turned and started walking to the building where she lived for a time. She paused when she saw the duo at the well gawking at her.

“Those two…still standing in the same place the last time I was here…” she said, squinting at them. “They must have grown roots by now.” She shook her head and approached the room she called home for a while. She paused several feet away, looking at the door that had been blown off its hinges.

“Someone set off the trap…” she thought to herself. Cautiously stepping inside, the pit of her stomach sank. The room was completely empty. All her things were gone.  

“Well, I should have guess something like this would have happened.” she said to herself. Sighing, she stepped through the hole in the far wall into the cavern beyond. She illuminated a small light from her satchel and cautiously descended the wooden stairway into the cave. A lot of things were still there. Random parts of asura tech, broken odds and ends that she had no use for. Everything that was of any value to her in those days was gone.

“Thorns!” she spat. She climbed back up the makeshift stairs and exited out of the room. Spying the duo at the well, she started marching over to them.

“Uh-oh.” The charr grunted.

“Um…turn around. Act like you didn’t see her.” The asura sputtered. The pair turned and started walking away.

“OH my! You actually don’t have roots!” Ceara shouted. “Now, I have a question and I think you two know the answer!”

The pair started quickening their pace, but Ceara caught up to them, grabbing the asura by the collar.

“Don’t hurt me! It wasn’t us!” he screamed. The charr turned to find the barrel of Ceara’s pistol in his face.

“Whoa! Whoa! We didn’t do anything!” the charr stammered.

“What happened to my things!?” Ceara barked.

“Look! It wasn’t us. It was some other group! An asuran girl. With some humans. And a charr and a norn! They destroyed the door to your place and the asuran girl had a krewe come in and move everything out.”

“And you didn’t stop them?”

“Why should we!? They were heavily armored and carrying around big weapons!”

“Heavy armored…” Ceara thought for a moment. “You said a norn and charr? And some humans?”

“Yes.”

“Was the charr a female? With funny looking eyes? And the asuran girl? Did she have a crooked walk?”

“Um…yeah”

“And the humans… two women, one with dark hair and wearing dark armor, and the other looking like a princess?”

“Yeah. They came in here asking a bunch of questions about you and what you were doing here.” Ceara let the asura go and holstered her pistol.

“What I was…” Ceara thought back to those dark days.” “Oh no…oh no!” she exclaimed; her eyes wide. She bolted back to her room. Darting through the cave, she quickly found the exit that led into a canyon that would take her to a place she had not seen in a very long time.

Ceara journeyed through the canyons of Dry Top as fast as she could hoping to find the cavern where she first found and studied leylines. She didn’t know what lay waiting for her there, only that she had to stop anyone from using that machine.

“That infernal device.” Her mind drifted back to that fateful day.

“At long last I’m going to see it. I’m going to see the Eternal Alchemy itself.” She remembered saying as Omadd was securing her in the isolation chamber.

“I’m so sorry…” she thought.

“Come, young one. Let me show you the truth.” She heard the deep bellow of the jungle dragons voice through her memory.

“If I had only known.” She thought. “If I was only better prepared.” She stopped to rest a moment as the midday sun beat down on her. She opened her canteen and started taking a drink when she heard footsteps in the distance. Hooved footsteps from the sound of them. She turned and could make out centaurs approaching from the direction she was travelling.

“That’s right. I remember there being a centaur camp along this route.” She placed her canteen back in its satchel and started walking towards the approaching group. As she got closer, she counted three of them. She remembered that they were seemingly friendly back during those days, but she undid the clasp on her holster as a cautionary measure.

“Look. Another sylvari.” One of them spoke.

“Another?” Ceara asked puzzled.

“Yes. Tell me, traveler. Do you need any assistance in getting through the canyon?” Another asked Ceara.

“Uh…if you are offering it, then yes. I need to get to the Uplands as fast as possible.”

The trio looked at each other, then back to her, seemingly judging her. Ceara felt uneasy.

“We’ll take you as far as the pass that leads to the desert, but no farther.”

“That’s good enough.” She replied. She climbed onto the back of one of the centaurs. After securing her things, they galloped onward towards the west.

“Well…Ventari would have just made me walk…” she said snidely under her breath. “At this rate we’ll be in the Uplands in no time.” she thought.

Time passed as the trio raced through the canyons. Ceara saw other centaurs along the route, patrolling or hunting. She couldn’t tell, nor did she really care. Her thoughts were only on one thing at the moment.

“If it is still there…if it still exists…” she hesitated at the thought of what that machine did to her and it possibly could do if another entered it. Soon the canyons started fading away, and the desert once again started looming out before her. The centaurs slowed their gait, coming to a full stop.

“This is as far as we can take you, sylvari. Your journey from here is on foot.” One spoke as she climbed off his back.

“Thank you.” She said looking up at him.

“Safe journeys.” He said to her before they turned and headed back into the canyon.

“Well, this looks somewhat familiar.” She commented as she looked out at the rolling dunes of the desert. “Time to get moving.” She thought back to the days of when she lived here before. She remembered making the trek through the desert many times and let her instincts take over, remembering landmarks along the way. She knew she was on the right path when she came across the remains of one of her steam minotaurs partially buried in the sand near a cliff wall, it’s steel carcass blasted clean by years of blowing sand.

“I remember you…” she said, kneeling down, brushing the sand away from its lifeless face. “Thanks to you, and the others, I was able to haul all my equipment into that cavern.” She stood and moved on. Cautiously making her way down the incline, approaching the cavern entrance, she found remains of asuran golems and some security turrets. They had been damaged beyond repair and left where they lay. She picked up a crystal from one of the golems.

“Inquest…” she spoke, looking at her reflection on the surface. “They must have been here studying the ley line…and someone…or something didn’t like it.” She dropped the crystal into the sand and took pause. A giant steel door of asuran design had been constructed at the mouth of the cavern, and it too had been destroyed. She cautiously stepped through into the cave, her heart racing as she was met by the cool air of the cavern. The smell of ozone filled the air, getting stronger as she descended into the cave. Energy she had not felt in a long time washed over her as the path emptied into the main room of the cavern. Its walls illuminated brightly by the river of energy that coursed through it. Ceara gasped as she stood in silence, staring at the beam of leyline energy that flowed from the far end of the cavern to the other, piercing the stone wall and flowing beyond. Her thoughts returned to that day so long ago when she first discovered it.

“Look at that. It’s beautiful.” She thought. “and it still is.” Her thoughts snapped back to the present. She looked around the immediate area, noticing more asuran tech set up in various locations. She slowly walked over to a small terminal that had been set up near the flow of energy.

“The inquest were studying it.” She spoke softly as she ran her hand down the damaged control console. “If they were here…then…” She slowly turned, her eyes gazing up at an opening at the end of the cavern. She felt anxious, as if an icy hand were slowly closing over her heart. Slowly she made her way up the small ridge, each footfall more carefully placed than the last. The ridge was lined with damaged inquest equipment as well, but one console next to the cave opening stood out in particular. It wasn’t of Inquest design. It hummed softly, sounding a periodic beep as lights flashed in time on its control surface. Her breathing labored as she neared it. She paused before reaching the threshold as she thought about what lay beyond in the cavern. Turning her gaze through the opening, she gasped, her eyes widened as she laid her eyes upon what she knew lay in the cave below: Omadd’s isolation chamber. The very machine that allowed her to view the Eternal Alchemy, that showed her secrets she wanted to know, and that allowed the jungle dragon to consume her.

“No…” she shook her head. “NO!” she screamed as she ran into the cave entrance, only to be repulsed by an invisible shield. She screamed again as she slammed herself into the field, trying to crash though it, but to no avail. The shield held fast. She turned to the console.

“No…no….it can’t be here…it has to be destroyed…” she gasped as she frantically threw switches and pressed buttons on the control panel. ‘THORNS!” she screamed, slamming her fists on the unit as nothing seemed to drop the shield. She turned and slammed her fists against the barrier.

“No…” she whimpered as she slowly dropped to her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“If I understood the stories correctly…” a voice echoed through the cavern. Ceara drew her pistol, spinning around pointing it randomly behind her.

“The last thing anyone, you of all people, should want to do is be near that machine.” The voice continued.

“Who’s there!? Show yourself! NOW!” Ceara hollered, her voice echoing through the cavern. She heard the sound of an ethereal chime that reminded her of a mesmers teleportation spell.

“I’m down here.” The voice called out. Ceara slowly peered over the edge of the ridge to see a dark colored sylvari woman in white dress looking up at her. She was holding a very odd-looking staff.

“Are you going to shoot me?” the woman asked almost playfully.

“Who are you? Why are you following me?” Ceara replied sternly.

“My name is Liathlas. And I’m not here to harm you, secondborn.” The woman shouldered her staff and started walking up the ridge. She stopped when Ceara fired a shot at her feet.

“Don’t come any closer.” Ceara barked at her. “I asked you why you are following me?” aiming her pistol at the womans face.

“I’m not following you. I am following a group of Nightmare Courtiers that are apparently travelling into the jungle. They seem to be looking for some great item of power. You just happened to catch my eye as you were travelling across the wastes and my curiosity got the better of me.”

Ceara narrowed her eyes. “Nightmare Courtiers? The last I heard Faolain had been killed in the battles against Mordremoth and the Nightmare Court fractured without her leadership.”

“Indeed. Faolian was slain, and in turn resurrected by Mordremoth as one of his champions.”

“You were my champion. My chosen one…” echoed through Ceara’s mind. She shook her head to clear her thoughts.

“Are you ok?” Liathlas asked, noticing Ceara’s momentary lack of focus.

“I’m fine.” Ceara snapped at her.

“Well, anyway, as for the Court, they have indeed fractured, their top ranks warring amongst themselves for control.” Liathlas continued. “This particular group seems to have developed a plan to take control of the Court using whatever it is they are looking for in the jungle.”

“And who is this group led by?”

“A sylvari named Nafiona. A practitioner of necromancy.”

“A sylvari necromancer?”

“Yes.”

“An item of great power…” Ceara muttered. She looked at Liathlas unbelievingly. “How do I know this is all true? Maybe you’re here to kill me?”

Liathlas returned her look in disbelief, shaking her head. “I’m not here to kill you. As a matter of fact, I think we should work together, at least until we get into the jungle. There are still plenty of mordrem wandering the wastes, and they won’t waste a second to try to kill anyone that crosses their path.”

Ceara closed her eyes, breathing in deep. She knew this sylvari was right, and it would benefit her to have someone watching her back during the journey.

“Ok…” she reluctantly agreed. Sighing deeply, she slowly lowered and holstered her pistol. Liathlas cautiously walked up to her, turning her gaze to look at the device that lay inside. She looked back at Ceara, who was looking at the machine, before cutting her own eyes at Liathlas.

“I think you need to forget about that machine.” Liathlas stated looking down at Omadd’s device.

“That will be impossible. That machine-“

“Just walk away from it, secondborn.” She turned back to Ceara. “The past is gone. It can’t be changed. Just walk away from it.” Liathlas turned and started walking down the ridge.

“Feh…” Ceara sneered at her, glancing one last time at the machine that was a blessing and ultimately a curse in her life before heading down the ridge herself.

The pair travelled back through the Uplands, eventually back to the canyon that brought Ceara here. The trek was long on foot.

“Tell me, secondborn, which name do you prefer to go by now? Your birth name? Or the name you have chosen for yourself?” Liathlas asked.

Ceara pondered for a few moments. “It doesn’t really matter. Some call me by my birth name. The rest of the world now knows me as Scarlet Briar.”

“I see. Well, how about we just call you…Ceara Briar?” Liathlas giggled.

Ceara looked at her somewhat dumbfounded. “Really?”

“Well, it fits.” Liathlas grinned.

“No, we’re not doing that.” Ceara stated. “So…what’s your story?” she asked the dark hued sylvari.

“What do you mean?”

“What’s your story? A wyld hunt?”

“I didn’t have a wyld hunt. I’m not one of the lucky ones.”

“Maybe you are a lucky one for not having one.”

“And why do you say that secondborn?”

“Doesn’t it feel better not being tied to the Pale Tree? Not having to answer some call, some preordained destiny set before you?”

“I think it would be something remarkable, to have been chosen to have one.”

“That’s delusional.”

“What’s wrong secondborn? You didn’t like yours?”

Ceara’s bioluminescence flared at the thought of being tied down with a wyld hunt.

“I didn’t have one and I am very thankful I was not chosen for one!” she said sternly.

“A touchy subject, I see” Liathlas replied.

“It’s best to just let it go.” Ceara sneered.

“Now, I’m curious.”

“I don’t have one…” Ceara growled through her teeth.

“Ok…ok. There is no need to get upset. Anyway… we should make a stop by the centaur camp to stock on supplies…and maybe rest for a bit.” Liathlas suggested.

“I agree.”

“This trek will take us a while to reach the jungle. I also suggest we make stop by Camp Resolve as well.”

“Camp Resolve?” Ceara asked, pausing.

“Yes. The camp from which the Pact launched their attack on Mordremoth.”

“I’m fully aware. And they weren’t successful.”

“Sadly, no.” Liathlas sighed. “But in the end, Tyria did prevail.”

Ceara’s face dropped. “And it was because of me.” She thought to herself. “It would probably be best if we do not visit that pact camp.” She paused.

“Hmm?” Liathlas looked over her shoulder at Ceara.

“I have the feeling that I wouldn’t be wanted there.”

“Nonsense. I’m sure it would be fine.”

“I don’t think so.” Ceara muttered.  “So, tell me about this Nafiona.”

Liathlas pondered a moment. “I don’t know much about her. She’s a necromancer and member of the Nightmare Court as I said. And I’ve been tasked with stopping her from finding whatever this item of power she seeks. Stories tell of her being at the Nightmare Tower in Kessex Hills during its construction.”

Ceara stopped in her tracks, looking at Liathlas. “The Nightmare tower?”

“Yes.” Liathlas turned to her. Ceara pondered a moment, remembering the giant spore plant.

“There were so many Nightmare Court there.” She paused, shaking her head lightly. “My memory from those days is fuzzy. I don’t…I don’t remember her at all. How powerful is she?”

Well, she’s a necromancer. Maybe as powerful as Trahearne was. I’m not sure.”

“So, it’s just you against this Nafiona and her slice of the Nightmare Court?”

“Well, since she’s travelling into the jungle, I was hoping to get some of the Pact to help, honestly.”

“I think the remnants of a splintered faction are beneath their worries at the moment.” Cear stated.

“You’re probably right. So, I hope you’ll help instead!” Liathlas grinned at her.

Ceara slowly looked at Liathlas. “Why do I feel like I just got played at my own game.” She sighed heavily.

The trek through the canyons was arduous on foot and took longer than Ceara had remembered. The sun was very low, the blackness of night slowly creeping across the sky. Long shadows were cast through the canyon as they continued.  It wasn’t long before they were approached by a pair of patrolling centaurs who offered to escort them to the camp, which they gladly accepted. Arriving at the entrance, Ceara held her breath.

“It still smells as bad as I remember.” She thought to herself. “What was I thinking agreeing to rest here.” She slowly exhaled and tried to breathe as shallow as she could. Looking around the torch lit area, she saw a handful of other individuals. One looked like a possible merchant, other looked like wayfarers making their way through the region.

“Is there a place where we might rest for the night?” Liathlas asked a one of the centaurs.

“There is a communal structure at the far end of the camp.” He replied.

“Oh, thank you so much.” Liathlas motioned to Ceara to follow.

“Do we really have to stay here?” Ceara asked quietly, a look of disgust on her face. “The smell is terrible. I’ve been trying not to gag.”

“Would you rather stay out there in the desert in the blowing sand and wild beasts? I’m sure any mordrem that might be out there would just love to meet you.”

“That’s…that’s not funny.” Ceara hissed at her. Passing through the camp, they were approached by an aged centaur with a noticeable limp.

“You there.” He said, his voice deep. The pair stopped as he lumbered up to them, setting his gaze upon Liathlas. “What is your name?”

“My name is Liathlas!” she replied happily. “And this is Ceara.”

“And you are?” Ceara asked, almost commanding. The centaur cut his eyes at her for a moment, then back to Liathlas.

“I am Ganthar. You look familiar. The same as your kind that came here a great many years ago.”

“Oh, who was that?” Liathlas asked, her curiosity brimming.

“Her name was Wynne.” He spoke. Ceara gasp slightly at the name.

“Wynne? The firstborn?” Liathlas asked surprisingly.

“Hmm...” the centaur nodded slightly. “She was a gentle soul that visited my tribe many years ago. She was very eager to learn our ways. And very interested in Ventari.” He paused a moment. “Until more of your kind arrived. They attacked us, taking us by surprise. Slaughtered my tribe. I barely survived the assault and escaped with my life.” He told them as he narrowed his eyes at Liathlas. The two sylvari looked at each other momentarily before turning back to him. Ceara slowly placed her hand on her pistol under her cloak.

“It took me a very long time to forgive. To realize there are some amongst your kind that would see the world burn rather than to live in peace. You reminded me of her.” He continued.

“I’m sorry but I did not know her. I was born from the tree much after her. I understand that she was quite peaceful in her demeanor.” Liathlas said, looking at Ceara. Ceara stared at the sand in front of her, slowly releasing her grip on her pistol. She knew of Wynne somewhat, and knew what had happened to her.

“Secondborn, are you alright?” Liathlas asked. “You’ve fallen quite silent.”

“I’m fine. I’m just…just a little sleepy is all.”

The centaur nodded. “You should rest then. I will not take up anymore of your time this night.” He bowed his head slightly and trotted past the sylvari.

“He was rather nice, wasn’t he?” Liathlas said joyfully.

“Yes, I guess so.”

They arrived at the communal structure. A large leathery tent with makeshift beds laid out in two rows.

“Well, this looks healthy.” Ceara stated as she looked over the dimly lit area. A few other travellers were using the area as well. Liathlas made her way to the back of the structure and plopped down on a heavily worn cot.

“Just like being a newborn sapling again, living in the bottom of the Grove.” She said almost whimsically.

“Yeah, except with this terrible smell in the air.” Ceara replied to her, a tone of annoyance in her voice.

“Oh, come now, secondborn. It isn’t that bad.”

“No, it’s bad.” Ceara stated, unstrapping her rifle and leaning it against the next cot. Liathlas looked upon it, various gauges and holographic images glowing softly in the dimly lit area.

“Your rifle seems very vibrant.” She said curiousily, kneeling down waving her hand through the holograms.

“It is. And even more so when when it’s powered up.”

“Did you make it?”

“No, I did not. A pair of asura in Rata Sum constructed it. I am merely…borrowing it…until further notice.”

“Oh, I see.” Liathlas stood and sat back on her cot. “I guess we should get some rest.” She said laying down.

“I guess we should.” Ceara muttered Ceara muttered as she unlatched her shoulder pauldrons and set them beside the cot. The makeshift bedding creaked as she wrapped herself in her cloak and laid down. Staring at the roof of the structure, her thoughts drifted through the recent events of her life and the people she met. Mender Seoras, the asuran pair in Rata Sum whose names she couldn’t remember, and Ventari. She was briefly interrupted by the sound of light snoring coming from her sylvari compatriot in the cot next to her. She smiled lightly for a moment before her thoughts drifted to the Aspect that had been a part of her at one time. A piece of Mordremoth’s will fused with her own mind. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and slightly shaking her head.

“I was so foolish.” She whispered to herself as she tried to drift into sleep.

[kerra-and-company]

For the simple hero asks - 7, 10, and 13 for any of your characters? ^w^

Sorry it took me a sec to get to these ones alsjdfadf but sounds good and thanks for shooting an ask back my way! :D I'm on a role talking about Kerra today (thanks for the reblog of her birthday post btw <3), so I'll talk about her and also a few other kiddos selected by the random generator!

(PoF and Icebrood spoilers below, proceed at your own risk.)

7. when are they NOT willing to put themselves at risk?

Kerra: She's a little more careful now than she used to be, which has to do both with valuing herself more (mental health improvement for the win!) and wanting to make sure she's alive to come back to her kids and the rest of her family. That being said, Kerra still most definitely takes risks. She's the Pact Commander and takes that title seriously. It manifests more in a way that most people chalk up to experience: unless absolutely necessary, she prefers small teams rather than individual missions, even if she could in theory handle them alone. I'm not quite sure that answers the question, but that's basically Kerra and risks for you, haha!

Ia: Before she's captured by the Nightmare Court, never. This child had no concept of self-preservation and would take risk after risk after risk. After, she unfortunately has a better understanding of pain, so she's slightly more cautious. This mostly shows up as her looking terrified before jumping into whatever-it-is anyways as long as she thinks she can help --so, still (at this point in time), almost never. (I don't know if you ever read the Underland Chronicles, but Ia reminds me of one of the lines from it: "Courage only counts when you can count." Turns out she has a lot either way.)

10. what victory are they proudest of?

Kerra: Balthazar. Not because it was flawless or anything (a whole LOT went wrong there, to say the least), but because she got to look the being that killed her in the eye with the basic sentiment of "You killed me, but I'm still standing, and you will never be able to keep me down because I have something to live for. I'm about to make you the god of ashes, and you will have to deal." She still most definitely has trauma from the experience of, you know, dying, but defeating Balthazar was vindicating on multiple levels. It would be Mordremoth, but honestly, she feels like she was just dragging herself through the campaign by the seat of her pants and sheer determination. She's glad he's dead, but she doesn't see herself as a hero for it, and she feels more relief than pride.

Tanza: Staying themself. Jormag was trying to convince her to become their champion for a while, and she fought very hard against listening to the whispers. Tanza is both proud and relieved that they won that battle. (Also, bonus fact, Ryland ended up Champion as in canon, and he doesn't know he was second choice until after he's chosen. He takes this in a very Ryland way, and Tanza gives no shits about that whatsoever until he taunts her after her mothers are Frozen. Then she extra wants him dead.)

13. what do they want their legacy to be when they die?

Kerra: That she helped people, and worked hard, and loved with everything she was.

Cio: That she was good at whatever job she took, and that no matter who she cared for and how much, she was no one's but her own.

[i-mybrunettelady]

18 for El!

Thank you for the submission <3

PROMPT: You come here often? Well considering I work here, yes.

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Dragonfall(?), 1332 AE

Taimi’s lab is, even upon first glance, a stunningly well put together place. Modern technology was never his strong suit, he had to admit, and he is a more theoretically-oriented researcher, but he did make use of asuran labs in his work before and this is one of the better equipped ones. And the findings - oh, the findings, the trackers, everything a wartime researcher could possibly need for their craft!

The notes are sadly in asuran script and he doesn’t have much interest in learning the language of people who have once tortured his siblings for science. But there are few in New Krytan too and those he can read, so he makes himself comfortable in the rising light of day and studies Taimi and Gorrik’s findings.

A few hours later he hears the door open and turns his head to look at the newcomer. He opens his mouth to say something before it turns into a wide grin.

“Your notes on Mordremoth’s magic are lacking,” he says. “You’re Taimi, correct?”

The small asura squints. She looks tired and overworked. “I am Taimi, yes. Notes on Mordremoth are not all here and who are you?”

“Good, good, I was worried I’d have to relive my traumas to defeat this purple menace,” El says, shaking his head. Polen falls on a nearby stack of papers. “And I am Archon Elandrin Aien of the Durmand Priory. Here in the function of your research partner. Three heads think better than one!”

“My research partner?” Taimi repeats. “And are you that Elandrin-”

“Taimi!” a voice springs from a nearby remote communicator. El frowns when he recognises it as Alysannyra’s. “Taimi, are you up?”

“Nyra, what is he doing here?”

“Who, Elandrin?”

“Yes, him,” Taimi replies. “Says he’s my research assistant. He was digging through my notes when I came.”

“Partner,” El hisses, “not assistant. I know just as much as you do, asura.”

“About that - Rytlock what the fuck - I called to inform you that yeah, he’ll work with you simply because he’s one of the experts in the field of magical theory and maybe could help fight Kralkatorrik. You can always throw him out if you want to. But uh... Looks like he beat me to it.” Alysannyra sighs. There are voices in the background and a man laughing.

“Throw me out? Alysannyra, you give yourself too much power, and by extension, this asura. I only did this because I wanted to, not because you in particular asked me to.” Years ago, he would have burst into anger at her words, but now they were little more than piercing ice. Personally, he’s proud of that.

“Listen, Elandrin, I really, really don’t have the time or energy to fight with you right now. If you feel unwelcome, go. If you wanna help, stay. Rytlock, seriously, stop that. You’re tickling me with your tail.” A sneeze. A reply El can’t hear clearly, followed by more laughter.

“If I wanted to fight with you, you’d know it, you fucking murderer,” he says and it sounds sharp, full of vitriol and hate. El thought he was over this, but apparently not. It stands in his chest still, a bloodless stab wound.

Alysannyra is quiet. He hears her breathe in and out.

“Don’t talk to Nyra like that,” Taimi threatens. “No wonder she calls you a dick.”

“No, Taimi, he’s right,” Alysannyra quickly interjects. Her voice is shaky and El suppresses the urge to laugh. He likes how it sounds, how suddenly human she becomes, the pain in it.

But the moment passes and all he has is the thought that he would’ve been a good Nightmare Courtier. It’s his turn to hold his breath.

“Listen, pal,” Rytlock growls. “Do your magic research and don’t go there.”

“Rytlock, please, just- Melandru’s sweet tears, there’s work to be done. I’ll do mine, you do yours. And Taimi, he’s a good researcher. He may call me names but that’s between us. He can be professional if need be. If Kralkatorrik wins, he won’t have a world to insult me in. Commander out.”

The voice disappears and El and Taimi stare at each other. He notices how much her legs are shaking and stands from the chair. El doesn’t want to acknowledge the reason he does this.

“And Kralkatorrik out too,” he adds. “Let’s get to work.”

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

Okay, I know this was in the fluff section but as I’ve said before, blame it on El

He tends to turn most things angsty

I realised I never really had Nyra and El interact with each other in fics before and now I see why that is. I wanted it to be just sharp banter but cruelty is the name of the game it seems.. (also inspired by my own irl experience so yeah)

I do hope you like it tho, even if it’s not fluff

[kehideni]

I think it’s time i rant why i ship the Commander with Caithe.

And not specifically MY commander, but the general commander character. (which is why i don’t care that my Commander happens to be male)

I don’t even know where to start... i guess for clarifications:

I personally don’t feel either way for Caithe. I guess i like her but she wouldn’t be on my top 10-20 favourit character list.

When i first played Guild Wars 2(yes my main character is my first ever character) i played through with the mindset that i am this charr and i will make the choices that i think will save the most lives(lel.... later on i learned it didn’t matter). So when i plowed through the personal story of the Commander i was in the mindset of “I AM A CHARR!!! AND IN THIS WORLD OF CONSTANT BATTLE I AM THE DEADLIEST WEAPON OF ALL!” (also mild Denalien influence but Denalien is intertvined with my being so... let’s not go into that)

I LOVED that Rytlock was badass and unflinching and angry i guess in simpler way: Charr = GW2′s version of orks(WoW) which means Rytlock = Thrall but actually badass.

By pure coincidence i made the choices that made me meet with mainly charr characters and it made me believe it’s because i chose charr that i meet charr. Later on i learned that... no... i just chose the paths that made me meet charr.

Queue in the story instances from 10 to 80, and past-kehideni notices a pattern. Rytlock is not the one that your character connects to the most.

I know, the letters you get are all from Rytlock when you are a charr, but the one other person Arenanet pushes your Commander to connect with is- you guessed it- Caithe.

Twilight Arbor- now you would argue Rytlock Logan and Caithe but Rytlock leaves before you start fighting any nightmare court and Logan after just a bunch of spiders. Canonically, it’s just the Commander and Caithe. Nothing actually that i’d noticed when playing through because the Commander only asks questions from Caithe that i’d want to know anyway. However this instance literally has established a connection between the two that later on gets referenced in a throwaway speechline with someone you’ll be surprised by. We’ll get to that.

Sorrow’s Embrace- Eir, Zojja and Caithe: the Commander asks Caithe for information (of course, who else. Not like they can ask Zojja at that moment, but these are all just starting off things)

Honor of the Waves- Eir and Caithe: the Commander tells Caithe to shut up and let Eir come to the right conclusion herself which makes me laugh to this day xD (This is where my personal meme comes from “Shut up, Kyle Caithe!”)

Ruined city of Arah- the Commander sasses Caithe. Basically in the story instances the Commander and Caithe work towards the same goal, to reunite Destiny’s Edge.

Things happen in the between though: There is this quest where Trahearne and the Commander enter a vision of the Pale Tree. In there, the Pale Tree tells the Commander that they MUST reunite Destiny’s Edge and this is where Twilight Arbor greets back a bit. 

When you walk past the members you hear them talk to each other, blame each other.

Caithe however stands out because she isn’t talking with one of her friends, she talks to Faolain. The crazy part is that in this vision you are not supposed to AND can’t talk to any vision-npc.... that is except for Faolain herself. But let’s see what happened beforehand:

Narratively speaking when a character says they are alone and tired, it’s supposed to elicit protectiveness from the viewer and/or empathy.

“So here i am a bulky a** charr, why is her love life any of my buisness?” - very emotional quote from kehideni of the past

Aaaaaha... sure whatever you say Trahearne, but wait.. because here comes the kicker. The ACTUAL kicker where past-kehideni went 

“Wait jus- hold on just a minute here...”

Faolain that was awfully possessive of you, i’m a big a** charr. What competition would i be in this future-vision to you? And then the Commander says “I won’t let Caithe fall into nightmare.”

A little bit of extra:

“Pft... whatever... you’re just her ex.” says the Commander. :v

In Arah Caithe thanks you for saving Destiny’s Edge (also interestingly she is the chosen companion npc as she’s the one that resses you if you get downed) and at the end of the fight she says that all of Tyria is in the Commander’s debt. Ok ... casual stuff. She’s been thanking the Commander left and right that day. As if she didn’t drive home the fact that she’s grateful she thanks the Commander once again at the end party and also is the one to suggest the Commander should go after the rest of the Elder Dragons too.

The next you meet her is the Aetherblade path in Twilight Arbor, the narrative distances Caithe from the Commander. By this time canonically they are friends, duh. So it’s like a friend has a side the Comm didn’t know so far. Nothing interesting yet, let’s hurry on.

She attends the summit, of course she does. You can’t talk with her.

In Echoes of the Past Comm saves her, their talk is still friendly but distanced. I do want to note that Canach and Caithe are so similar in attitude xD

Tangled Paths: Comm goes up to her to talk and she says “don’t mind me” and proceeds to follow you around and friendly-mocks you as “boss”. We know NOW why, but not back then. This is important because not long before this i realised that the Comm can’t possibly be me. It’s MassEffect’s case of Commander Shepard. You controll them but they are their own character and your choices have only slight weight in the story because the Commanders’ choices are already set in stone by the actual writers. What you CAN do is write the WHY parts, and this is soon the part where my writing interferes with actual canon but you’ll see my reasonings.

When the Comm talks with Caithe she’s the most civil with them among their allies. (We later learn it was to keep the Comm. in the dark.)

The beauty of this scene is that Caithe WILL learn why a mother can’t keep their eyes off of their children.

“Is that a problem?” “Not for me.” Still can take this line as civil but kinda funny line in hindsight. (Get it? Because it will be a problem for them.)

So Caithe’s betrayal happens, and the Comm is FURIOUS!

Lol my charr is too tall, but the shot was meant to place the Comm face to face with Caithe because in the next shot she looks them in the eye and goes for the egg.

When Marjory notes that Caithe is a Sylvari the Comm goes defensive “So? What are you trying to say?” Their friend would never do that- is what narratively they want to convey, but later on in HoT the Comm reacts so harshly to her betrayal i took the wheel a bit.

I mean let’s add up what the Comm knows: Mordremoth created the sylvari, he has mental access to them, he can mind controll them, fool them if they are too strongwilled to do his bidding. Caithe is a sylvari with a strong will. If she betrayed them it’s not of her free mind. It’s like the victim-blaming when a girl gets drugged and they take her body to do as they please. Try as she might she wasn’t clear in the head but she made it clear later on that she didn’t want to betray the Comm. Why would she after all she can be thankful for to the Comm?

So what gives? Well in my mind, the only way to rectify Anet’s nonsense writing(they should really stop reading GW2 reddit forums, not a good place to be influenced with) is to give the Comm a reason to take it to heart a bit too much, say... if they were harboring feelings for her. In my mind it adds up.

So HoT happens, and Caudecus is making his move.

Where next you meet Caithe: Out of the Shadows. (fitting title for her, huh?)

I’m just gonna link the video with timestamp, that whole part is reconciling:

https://youtu.be/AABguDwhieE?t=2612

At this point the writing of GW2 seems to take a chillpill so i go with the flow. The Comm realising that he overreacted inspects himself: Why? This is the part the Comm realises that “oh sheet, they got them feels.”

Aurene hatches, Caithe is there.

The first time the Comm is voiced in LW and he jokes around with a character it’s with Caithe.

Comm: “I’d feel better if someone i knew was watching the chamber.”

Caithe fishing for the one line that would reassure her that the Comm talking with her actually means that they are ok with her now: “Someone you trust?”

Comm: “Yeah, so... could you ask Taimi to get her right away?”

Caithe relieved her relationship with Comm is safe: “You’re joking with me, i take that as a good sign.” They talk around a bit more, they are healing and that’s adorable.

Later on she thanks the Comm for letting her prove herself to them by looking out for Aurene.

Path of Fire happens, she’s like throwaway-ly mentioned by Taimi.

I was all, “Well, goodbye Caithe you got Zojja’d, it was a good headcannon while it lasted” but THENNNNNNN ARENANET THROWS ME THIS

Like... are you fkin’ kidding me. This line alone means that she’s been stalking the Commander IN STEALTH ATLEAST since they met Zafirah in Sun’s Refuge!!! THE BARE MINIMUM SHE SAW FROM STEALTH WAS THE COMM GOING IN ON A SUICIDE MISSION, HOW ABOUT SOME HELP YOU CONNIVING VEGETAB- sorry... my personal annoyance at her came out.

Back to story, after this All or Nothing happens where the Comm and Caithe are confirmed parents of Aurene. When Aurene branded Caithe only the Comm asked if she was still herself, not even Rytlock nor Logan, the actual two people who know her longest. The Comm and Caithe are constantly paralleled next to Aurene as her “champions” because dragons apparently don’t have parental bonds*sarcasm* :V

Requiem happens and Rytlock himself says he sees it now. Coincidentally as of writing this he is going through the very same trauma Caithe and Comm went through when Aurene died.

Caithe calls for Comm to return to her because she needs them, and the Comm tells everyone they should go and spend whatever time they have with people they love. Implying that Aurene is who Comm loves but then again Caithe is there too. The 3 of them were going to spend the last of their lives with each other. (not saying they don’t love the rest of the group, but had they decided to leave, the 3 would still stay together.)

As from War Eternal to till now their co-parental connection is getting stronger.

[forbiddenredjollyrancher]

30 Questions: GW2 Edition

Got tagged for this, let’s do it.

1: Favorite living world season?

LWS4, it was fun and I enjoyed most of it. The prior seasons kinda dragged at points or had parts that were a slog to do. But I genuinely had a good time, or was balling my eyes out with emotion, during season 4.

2: Favorite expansion?

Path of Fire. Once again, it was fun and there are very few points were I get frustrated because of the game play. Also, I love desert maps??? 

3: Favorite soundtrack?

I genuinely love most the music in the game but the HoT soundtrack has some absolute jams. One of my favorites is The Itzel. 

4: First profession you played?

Elementalist. And it’s still my favorite to play as. 

5: First race you played? 

Sylvari.

6: Favorite Destiny's Edge character?

Zojja. Bring her back, Anet!

7: Favorite Dragon's Watch character?

I love them all? But it’s probably a close tie between Braham and Taimi. 

8: Favorite Elder Dragon?

Aside from Aurene? Because, come on, it’s Aurene! We all love her. I guess I’d have to say Mordremoth. Probably because I’m a sylvari main and the angst potential with plant dad is off the charts. The fight with him just felt so personal. Also he looks like a big doofy catfish and I love it.

9: Best boss fight (story)?

Commander Lonai. I love all the gimmicks is this fight. Love the changing locations and the world bosses in the backgrounds. Love where it ends and your sappy bonding with Braham. 

10: Best boss fight (fractal)?

Viirastra. Probably because it’s near the end of the fractal “story” and it’s such a wild ride your first time through. Also it’s such a wacky fight.

11: Best boss fight (raid dungeon)?

Haven’t done raids, so we’ll answer for dungeons instead! Giganticus Lupicus from Arah, all the way! He was such a challenging fight the first time through, especially going in blind. But now I love defeating him with less and less effort each time.

12: PvE or PvP or RP?

PvE, would love to RP more than once in a blue moon. Hopefully, one day I’ll find my people.

13: Favorite canon couple?

Marjory and Kasmeer, hands down.

14: Favorite fanon/self made couple?

My beautiful lesbians, Mave and Eriie!

15: Favorite quote?

I was born to undo your master's work. -Trahearne being raw as fuck. 

16: Most emotional cinematic?

The scene with Aurene at the end of War Eternal. I cried, I still get emotional at that part.

17: Favorite VA?

Debi Derryberry kills it as Taimi, the sobbing at the end of All or Nothing still punches me in the gut. Also, Sumalee Montano as Marjory. Love that weird noir southern belle she’s got going on. Also, with the gut punching emotion in Icebrood Saga like damn.

18: Post a fun screenshot!

First Tarot Night? First Tarot Night!

19: Post a landscape screenshot!

The landscape isn’t the focus but this is the best I got. And nights in Rata Sum are gorgeous!

20: Most used mount(s)?

It used to be the griffon but then skyscale happened. I haven’t looked back since. 

21: Favorite mount skin (for every mount you have)?

Resplendent Avialan for raptor. Sun Temple Gecko for springer. Magnificent Hummingbird for skimmer. Vabbian Lightpaw for jackal. Nightfang for griffon. Starshell for roller beetle. Outrider for warclaw. Shimmerwing for skyscale. 

22: Favorite weapon?

Either the Eclipse Greatsword or the Voice of Metal Warhorn.

23: Favorite gear set?

For light armor it’s either the Nightmare Court or Carapace set. For medium armor it’s either the Inquest or Magitech set. For heavy armor it’s the Phalanx set.

24: Favorite title?

Spirited Drinker. I had fun farming the Wintersday events for the festive drinks.

25: Something you worked really hard to get?

Kinda related to the above question but: Winter’s Presence! Also, the Glacial Gauntlets! That minotaur fight is wack. 

26: Favorite GW2 Youtuber / GW2 related video?

The Herald!

27: Most used miniature?

A toss up between the Feline Familiar and Chauncey. However, my most coveted is the Mini Awakened Abomination. I want it so bad!

28: Most used novelty?

Chairs. Specifically the Pirate Captain’s Chair because of Captain Nels. 

29: Number of achievements points?

8,167

30: Something you’d love to see in GW2?

This is gonna seem random but: Maces for mesmers! The Moot is one of my fav legendaries and I have a disco loving norn mesmer who it would be perfect for! I have been kinda “meh” about making legendaries but I would jump on it if I could get my girl that mace! 

[shiverpeakstraveler]

OC ask for Liana please!

Contains some spoilers for the current Living World

1: List five basic facts about your OC.

Liana is a Magister of the Durmond Priory, the Pact Commander, and Leader of Dragon’s Watch

While her backstory does involve the Lost Parents storyline for humans, instead of being taken back to Divinity’s Reach, Liana is found by a traveling Shaman of Raven and taken to Hoelbrak.

She suffers from astraphobia. It probably doesn’t help that the night her birth parents died at the hands of the White Mantle, there had been a pretty big thunderstorm occurring.

She set out for Kryta at the age of 17 to try and learn more about her family, arriving just as the centaurs attacked Shaemoor.

She is definitely known for her bizarre appetite, much to the chagrin of her adoptive brother Hjalmar. (you can imagine he flipped when he found out she consumed toxic-cured bacon)

2: Post a line of dialogue from your OC.

The corner of Liana’s mouth twitched into a smirk as she finished off the remains of her breakfast. “Honestly, I think I was more scared of Gixx then I was of the shades or the possibility of the entire mountain coming down upon our heads. Asura can be downright intimidating when they’re mad.”

3: Post a snippet from your writing that describes your OC.

4: Post a snippet from your writing in which another OC describes your OC.

Gaaaaaah……..for both three and four, I’m afraid I don’t have enough chapters in my fanfic to have snippets that could fully answer those. Real life and work managed to get in the way before I had a chance to expand beyond three chapters, but thankfully now I’m feeling the spark for creativity return, so I’ll definitely try to get a chapter out as soon as possible!

5: Describe your OC’s physical appearance.

Liana is fairly tall, standing at roughly 5′7′‘. She has amber brown eyes and she has a warm brown complexion with golden undertones. She has dark brown hair that is almost always worn in an undercut style with a few braids on the left side, although since her return from the Land of the Lost, she now has a white streak running through it as well. She has a large scar stretching from her collarbone down past her stomach from where Balthazar had killed her, and recently a bolt shaped scar surrounded by burns has added itself across her chest from Bangar’s attempt on her life.

6: Describe your OC’s love life.

Liana has no experience when it comes to romance, the most she knows coming from romance novels. Around the time of Living World 3, she realizes she has romantic feelings for Braham Eirsson, but then the events in Bitterfrost Frontier occur. After A Bug In The System, however, Braham reveals he had harbored attraction towards Liana as well when the two find the time to talk. They both decide it would be best to reconcile and become friends again before determining if they were both ready for a romantic relationship. Sometime between A Star to Guide Us and All or Nothing is when the two decide to become lovers.

7: Describe your OC’s fashion sense.

Given how the Commander hardly gets any rest, Liana is usually in leather armor a majority of the time. She has a few select pieces for fancy occasions, but she tends to prefer armor that’s easy to move in and offers the best protection. On the rare occasions she does have some downtime, she tends to be a person who prefers dressing for comfort, usually favoring colors like blues and greens.She does have a few fancy party dresses she really likes that Kasmeer helped her pick out, but sadly, she hasn’t been able to find the time to wear them as of yet.

8: Describe one of your OC’s bad habits.

Bottling her emotions up. She feels like she has to remain strong for everyone and not show any signs of faltering. Thankfully, with the support of friends and a professional, she’s starting to get better at dealing with emotions in a more healthy way.

9: Your OC is having a nightmare. What is it?

A lot of her nightmares tend to be centered around people that have died: Sieran, Apatia, Kekt, Eir, and most recently General Soulkeeper.

These nightmares almost always revolve around her reliving their deaths, usually finding herself frozen as she witnesses them sacrificing themselves to save others (Sieran and Apatia) or she’s trying to prevent their death from occurring only for their demise to still come about (Kekt and Eir).

As far as the death of General Soulkeeper, it alternates between seeing it through Ryland’s eyes after she viewed it in the Eye of the North’s vision pool or she’s witnessing it from a third person point of view.

10: You are conducting a ritual. What 5 items would you need to summon your OC?

Pizza, a harlequin romance novel, chocolate, a stuffed wolf plush, and fire orchids (her favorite flower)

11: What does your OC want for their birthday?

Arrows are always good to have, although she would really love to have a collection of stories from different parts of Tyria.

12: What does your OC give another OC for their birthday?

She’d try to look in to see if there’s something they’d been really wanting for a while. If she’s unable to do that, she’ll usually try to make them something, either a small carving or a drawing.

13: Describe your OC’s living situation.

For awhile she lived in the Great Lodge in Hoelbrak, but recently she’s usually made camp where she ends up. As of now, she’s currently residing in a side room within the Eye of the North.

14: What is one of your OC’s secrets?

She can’t dance at all.

15: Your OC is given the chance to go back in time. Where do they go and what do they do?

This is a bit of a tough one. If she had to narrow it down, though, she’d probably go back to try and warn Trahearne about Mordremoth before the Pact Fleet had a chance to leave for the jungle. Even though she’s forever grateful for Guenhwyvar’s aid in fighting the Jungle Dragon, she wishes there could have been a way to prevent so much loss of life.

16: If your OC could have any superpower, which would it be and why?

I guess in a way her soulbeast abilities count as a superpower. I feel like she would love the ability to make portals though to make traveling from place to place during dire situations a hell of a lot easier, though.

17: How does your OC do during the zombie apocalypse?

She’d probably do well. She has some fairly good skills when it comes to surviving and hunting. She may want to curb back a bit on eating random things she finds, though.

18: What is your OC’s dream job?

Liana has decided that once the Elder Dragons are dealt with and she’s able to hang up her mantle as Commander, she plans to open a lodge of her own to run and possibly raise skyscales.

19: Your OC’s life is a musical. What’s the title of their big show-stopping song?

Not sure what sort of tune it would have, but it would probably be called “We’re Cancelling the Apocalypse.”

20: Post a picture or gif that describes your OC.

[thatonebirbnerd]

Giving In

Word count: 2295

Trigger warnings: Suicide (but not exactly?), body horror, mind control, amputation, vomiting, a little swearing. Contains depictions of severe frostbite on a nonhuman, death, and mild body horror.

The Dream and Nightmare protect sylvari from corruption by elder dragons, but when someone like Siocánta (sho-KAHN-ta) rejects both, it's only a matter of time. She dreamed of Jormag, and her love of the cold and morbid curiosity may get her more than what she bargained for as she ventures north toward the dragon beckoning her. Sons of Svanir be damned: she'll find a way to be cold enough, even if it kills her.

So this is what I’ve been hinting at for the past few days. I really thought it couldn’t happen, but here we are!

AO3 link

It seems so long ago that I first heard its voice. No, not Mordremoth’s. We all heard that. No, I mean Jormag; for in my mind, the voice of one dragon was merely replaced with another.

I’d left the Nightmare Court by then, and was well into the Shiverpeaks, desperate to leave the stifling heat of both sylvari territory and civilization. As much as I liked the ideal of rejecting the laws of life and morality, I couldn’t believe how many of the courtiers genuinely enjoyed torturing neophytes - or how much I overheated even in the coolest reaches of its territory.

Even after Mordremoth’s death, a whisper nagged at the back of my mind, too quiet to hear. Was this the remnants of my link to the Dream of Dreams, trying to rekindle itself and find a lost soul? I certainly assumed as much. But as I reveled in the cold around me - finally, somewhere that didn’t feel like it was killing me slowly! - I felt pulled toward every shard of corrupted ice I encountered on my way northward. No, it was just the call of the void.

Well, it might have been, until it grew louder as I made my way into a Svanir-infested cave.

To be blunt, I realized I’d made a fatal mistake after it was too late to turn back. The cultists called me a wench and a slave to a dead, heretical dragon - but they figured that either I’d die here, or I’d become their minion if this somehow worked. What a fucked-up win-win situation that would be. But it somehow meant that they didn’t butcher me on the spot. Instead, they led me over to a secluded patch of frozen ground. Spikes of magic-clouded ice, gleaming blue and purple, surrounded me. As the Sons of Svanir bragged about their plans for me, for the first time, I could understand something the faint whisper said.

Let me help you.

Against all the judgement I had, be it better or worse, I let the cold creep in as I listened to what this strange new presence had to say.

I must have been in that cavern for hours, maybe even days. I sat there, alone and numb, with the inklings of words infiltrating my consciousness to keep me company. Every surface around me was covered in ice, and I saw myself change in each shimmering wall and crystal. The frost touched every corner of me with its magic, curling leaves and petals and tracing filigrees over my fading bark. Most of my armor fell off, dead and dry. I stared into the clearest facet I could find, refusing to blink as my once-green irises shifted to the bright turquoise of my surroundings.

But at some point, I simply gave up. Nothing had come to me to bargain. I was still alive, still sane, and apparently intact. I walked out - straight into a Vigil patrol.

Their norn leader spoke up first, a burly dark-bearded man. “C’mon. Get up. What’s a sylvari like you doing in a Svanir den? You’ve gotta have a death wish.”

A sandy-furred charr replied to him. “Hold on. She’s as frozen over as one of them. How does that…”

A sylvari - and let me tell you, I did not want to see another one here in the mountains - interrupted the charr. “We plants get frost. Figure this one’s no exception.”

“She’s not in good shape,” they continued. “And I’ve never seen eyes the color of that ice before, but hers are so bright I’m worried she’s genuinely turned. I don’t think camp has enough resources for what she needs. Get her to Hoelbrak.”

“I’m still a pathetic grandchild of Mordremoth, much to my chagrin,” I retorted. “I’m not quite sure what took me into that cave, but hell, I’m in one piece, and that’s what matters to you folk.”

The charr signaled me to climb on her back. “I’ve carried rucksacks bigger than you,” she wisecracked. “We’ve got no spare gear, and I figure you shouldn’t be in the snow even for another hour.” That bad, eh?

You can’t trust them. Kill her. No. Why would I bite the hand that feeds me? Couldn’t do that.

Which was probably a good thing, because my condition was that bad. Lost most of my fingers, and nearly my legs below the knee, but got away with just some toes missing. They’d grow back, but no telling how slowly. The charr got some of her friends to make what they joked were the smallest combat prosthetics they’d ever made, a pair of metal gloves with articulated fingers. Moving what remained of my hands let me control the gloves to grip things and do simple enough tasks - and at least I could fight.

---

But enough about my reckless four-years-ago self. It’s not even worth bringing up how I got this big old doofus of an ice drake. Thing is, I’m a lot further north now. I have the Vigil to thank for taking me on the long road up. And here, the whispers are a hell of a lot louder. They are now a voice. Jormag’s voice.

I’ve seen others of your kind here. Curious things, you sylvari are. Every single one of you is desperate for control over your own lives. I can give you that. And so much more.

After spending nearly a year stationed in Frostgorge Sound, I’ve finally made it to the edge of the world, as far north as anyone can go: Bjora Marches. Once the norn heartland, now the den of the ice dragon’s champion, Drakkar.

It’s so cold here. Yet not cold enough, even as I walk amongst glaciers. Everyone here can hear the dragon. It’s disturbingly soothing. Alluring, even. Its voice is androgynous, and able to morph into anything, usually the reassuring voice of a loved one. I cut all my ties long ago, but sometimes I hear the voice of a friend from the Court, and wonder what went wrong. Why did you leave? You could have brought so many with you.

You can’t trust the soldiers, Jormag tells me. They will say they want to help. They don’t. You’re better with me. But I’m not ready to believe that yet. Instead, I wander off.

The inland sea to the west of Jora’s Keep and the kodan settlement of Still Waters Speaking, once called Drakkar Lake, is completely icebound. I follow the frozen waters southward, past crystalline cliffs and treacherous crags. The lake is still at night, empty of kodan fishers, but I still have to evade Svanir as I duck into a lonely passage - one that leads to a moonlit cave.

It’s beautiful. And it’s… familiar. I saw this in my Dream, the Dream I swore to forget. Here, Jormag’s voice presses on my mind nearly as much as Mordremoth’s did. No, more than that. But instead of a headache, its presence exhausts me, in a way that just makes me want to fall into a deep, refreshing sleep.

Now that I think about it, I could sleep here. Give in. Sleep.

I could rest. Yes. Rest.

It’s freezing, but I feel warm. Hot, even. I take my coat and boots off, and snap off my gloves. I stretch what remains of my hands. You could stay here forever. Maybe I could.

I lie down, spreading myself over the smooth, icy floor. Some repressed instinct inside of me makes my bark scream in pain, threatening to spill its blackening death into my heartwood. Then it dulls as I go numb, and I let my consciousness slip away. For a moment, I hope it doesn’t come back. Why would you ever leave this place? But instead, for the first time in a decade and a half, I dream - a dragon’s dream.

---

I find myself in… is this the same cave? No. I’m still looking up at the sky, but in every other way, it’s different. A deeper voice growls around me, echoing against the walls, deafening yet near unintelligible aside from a single phrase: You are here…

There’s even more ice here, and it’s… green. How strange. I talk as I stir. My voice is not mine. My voice is the dragon’s. Something rises inside me, forcing the words out of my frost-chapped lips.

You have done well, child. I will give you the strength you seek. But you must first let go.

I stagger to my feet. My leaves are as frostbitten as they were in that Svanir den. My fingers and toes are still stubs. Every movement I make is wrong, every joint at once tense and limp. My head clings to my neck at an odd angle. It could snap, and I could fall down. I am a puppet. Jormag’s puppet.

Ice fortifies. Ice protects. Yet you still fear that which can save you?

My veins are still. My sap is frozen, expanding, ready to burst out. The cold fills every cavity of my body.

I limp to a gleaming wall, smooth and polished as a mirror. I see myself. I am not myself.

This is what you could be. With me.

Don’t you like it?

I can’t respond. The chill creeps up through my throat, seizing my tongue.

My limbs creak, laden with ice, as I reach for my neck in a panic. Then I keel over, tipped off balance, as my head swings forward. For a moment I can see my hands growing back, corrupted crystals pushing through the bark, the new digits covered in rime, before everything goes black.

Then I wake up, gasping for air, still the same old me, in the same place I was before I drifted off.

Jormag continues to plead to me as I put my armor back on. Don’t you want this? Don’t you want what you lost?

The stumps of my hands and feet have lost feeling, and darkened to an ugly shade of blue-black. I can’t lose more of myself and still fight.

I have no choice but to say yes.

Then I will take you, child, to the place where the ice is green.

---

The frostbite is bad enough that it’s hard to walk. But if Jormag says I’m not going very far, then I should trust it and push on.

Indeed, I only have to retrace my steps back to the center of Drakkar Lake. There is a tunnel leading beneath the surface. No one has gone in and come back alive, short of Sons of Svanir. I think I know why.

Everything in the tunnel averts its gaze from me. Must be Jormag’s blessing - because I’d be too slow not to get caught by any of its minions in here.

I’m stumbling, now, as I wind through this strange new cavern. But it isn’t long before I see it: green ice. Not this chamber. Not yet. Soon.

I’m warm again. I leave my armor and gloves behind. My arms and legs are numb. I have to crawl.

Just a bit more. Come on. Not much longer. But the entrance to this chamber, the one I dreamed of, is a ledge. It must be a twenty-foot drop to the ground below, and I can’t walk, let alone climb-

Jump.

If you say so, Jormag.

It takes all my strength to get to my feet and brace myself. I fall, and for a moment I’m aware that my head is… in the wrong place -

---

Is this the end?

No. Not for you. I have plans for you.

Get up.

I’m… awake? So cold. Talking. Not my voice. Familiar… that dream… YOU ARE HERE. I’m moving. Stiff. Ice all over me. Ice inside me. Neck feels… wrong. Cold is good. Finally enough. But need my coat…

My arms… they… hurt! Not numb anymore. Not black anymore? Trying to scream. Something in my throat. Can’t… breathe!… no… don’t need to breathe. Wait - my hands, they’re…?!

Calm down, child. Let it take hold. Take your weapons.

They’re so… beautiful. I can… move my fingers. One by one.

Your dagger broke. But you can do better than that.

AGH! - still choking back something - a spike of ice is… coming out of my hand. There are more coming… all over my wrists. The reason they hurt. They’re so… swollen…

Take the big one. Snap it off. See? It’s a new dagger. You’re welcome.

Thank… you…

Need to bend over. My neck - oh, no. Have to… fix that. There we go. Something in my mouth. I gotta… urgh.

Everything inside… the shards… won’t stop coming. There’s spit frozen on my lip. I try to talk to Jormag. The only one who will listen now. All that comes out is ice.

Now go home. They will let you in. Then you kill them.

---

“I’m not sure what happened to that strange sylvari, the one with the mechanical hands who kept insisting she liked the cold. She came back to camp last night in a silent daze after wandering off a few days ago, leaving her drake behind. We placed her in the infirmary immediately, as her frostbite seemed so severe, she should have been dead. I say “should have” because she summoned icy daggers out of nowhere and utterly butchered the medics who were about to save what they could, then fled. Someone told me there were crystals all over her arms. I heard someone else say that she opened her mouth to speak, but frozen flowers and petals fell out instead. She’s… she’s a sylvari. She can’t be icebrood. Can she?

“Spirits save us from her deranged wrath, but we can’t speak of her anymore. For as the kodan say, her voice is not her own.”

- Final notes in a fallen Vigil soldier’s notebook

[likemesomesalads]

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

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

First up my main: Thoernen:

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

[mystery-salad]

7, 13, 20 and 22 from the angst questions for all of your characters (cause i'm selfish uwu and want to know /all/ lmao i am so sorry)

Oh my god HOLY SHIT i have THIRTY EIGHT character slots,,,,,,you will get all the ones that are intended to be permanent characters which is 34 of them I hope you’re ready for a long-ass post man cause that’s 136 answers

7. If your character was allowed to murder one person without any consequences, who would it be and why?

Taomesin: They already have killed those they want to, the people they’re meant to fight! Big enemies. They don’t really go killing randomly and wouldn’t see a point.

Nixxte: High-ranking inquest, someone who’s death would completely destabilise the inquest system for a while.

Tirs: Envert. The two have some history.

Mint: No one! They’re perfectly happy and know that Azin will protect them from anyone and anything! Azin is all they need and they would never dream of killing anyone! They already cause enough trouble with all their ptsd.

Bodacc: If she could, whoever is the reason she was abandoned as a baby. She doesn’t know who it was, if her parents are alive or dead. She loves the warband that raised her but she truly regrets not getting to immerse herself in asuran society growing up.

Mango: No one in particular, though probably a childhood rival or two.

Imekaari: Braith. But Cue did that, so anyone else from Lace’s past that hurt them.

Tojoll: Rytlock

Elaphurus: No one! Baby angel is so sweet they just want to help and protect!!!

Aqun: Maric, he’s more than earned it in her eyes.

Tvelle: She’d like to have killed Scarlet herself.

Whomstdve: No one she’s chill

Laighe: Illiadde, the two have some very antagonistic history between them.

Ennreck: He’d certainly like Kralk to Cut That Shit Out

Aezlin: He already gets to do this! If someone bugs him he can just tell Oriphio who will take care of them~

Vellask: She doesn’t have anyone in particular she’d kill. The spores would like to kill everyone if they could though.

Terizzi: They’ve killed those they needed to, now they just want to live alone in peace. They’d run from or kill anyone who’d approach them now if that counts.

Strair: They would go after Faolain, or whoever leads the court now. The court has just caused too many inconveniences to them tbh.

Kvold: He’d kill Affa, Lace’s employee that first ‘rescued’ him from the court. That dude rubs him the wrong way for several reasons.

Embrant: She would’ve killed Kvold after he broke Wrelia for a while.

Rieft: Whoever’s hurt Veirett. She loves her old mentor and wants her to truly be happy.

Illiadde: She already does kill everyone my dude

Cue: He’s already killed the man he hates most, Braith!

Odollumn: She doesn’t care enough about anyone to genuinely want anyone dead of her own motivations.

Regniette: They would take out the idiots who are still trying to follow Joko even though he’s dead.

Nimue: He doesn’t wish death upon anyone

Ezra: An employer or two. She’s hoping one day she’ll get contracts put on them that she can act on too!

Fhariem: Faolain and whoever her successor is, for taking the Court in such a pitiful direction over time.

Envert: Those idiot cowards who kicked her out of the Grove just for being curious about some more interesting experiment ideas. Come on, some bloodshed is necessary for the really good questions!!!

Cherie: He will befriend everyone instead!!!!

Fuilliome: A fellow mercenary who’s taken his jobs and targets a little too personally. It’s just a job man, and you’re inconveniencing him now with your unprofessionalism.

Renee: Half the nobles on earth. If you’ve met one you’ve met them all and they rarely actually aid in saving the world instead of just whining dramatically about it.

Tenor: She already kills those she wants to, though she’d love to get ahold of Lace herself. If only she could get Cue out of the way so she wouldn’t have to worry about dying…

Jioro: Queen Jenna, she has it coming for using sketchy technology to make guards that can be hacked TWICE!!!

13. What does it take to make your character cry?

Taomesin: They have never cried in their life!!! They’re emotionally numb!!!!!!!

Nixxte: Just average stuff, extremely sad moments, losing a loved one, etc…

Tirs: Memories of Envert

Mint: Memories of when they were captured by pirates, the thought that they will never be welcome in the Grove again, the thought that most people would hurt them, Whenever they hurt or disappoint Azin, ptsd flashbacks or relapses.

Bodacc: Whenever she tries to interact with other asuras and usually gets rebuffed for being so unusual

Mango: Average things, sad moments and deaths of loved ones

Imekaari: Friends in pain, that time he was tortured by Lace when they were mordrem, average sad things, he happy cries too if he’s overly happy c:

Tojoll: She will angry cry if something has gone wrong enough, and will be absolutely inconsolable for a while if a loved one dies.

Elaphurus: They cry when scared, which happened a lot when they first awoke in the Maguuma jungle.

Aqun: It takes a Lot, she’s very very emotionally level and good at keeping things in perspective. If anything were to happen to Roanna, Jioro, or Veirett though she would cry.

Tvelle: Sad sappy stories, really really really cute things all make her cry

Whomstdve: Average sad shit sometimes, she doesn’t really cry much

Laighe: She really tries not to cry in front of people, but she’s woken up from nightmares often crying or dry sobbing. She cries over deaths of those she cares about.

Ennreck: If one of her pets dies or has to be put down, it’s a sad day on the ranch…

Aezlin: Are you kidding? Of course he doesn’t cry it’s not a pretty look darling~

Vellask: If the spores infect or kill someone she didn’t intend, she gets incredibly sad and very apologetic to that as-good-as-dead person.

Terizzi: They have a lot of panic attacks that lead to tears. Also if they are somehow isolated from their creatures they’d sob in a panic.

Strair: Illiadde dying or Lace dying would make them cry. Good luck getting them to admit it though!

Kvold: So much makes him cry, he’s a very sweet very emotional boy. Such a sweetheart, especially since recovering from his Court conditioning.

Embrant: Wrelia being hurt makes her cry, and also when anything happens to harm the Grove. Death makes her cry a lot.

Rieft: Not much! She’s not one to react to things by crying, so much as by acting accordingly as necessary. She handles sadness through cheering up with friends and honoring whoever has died.

Illiadde: She doesn’t cry.

Cue: Lace being in danger, Lace being distressed, Lace being badly hurt!

Odollumn: She doesn’t know what emotions are, she came out of the pod a biiiiit faulty.

Regniette: A very Asuran asura in terms of temperament, they don’t really cry over much, just think about how to logically get an advantage back after.

Nimue: Death or loss of vitality in anything makes him cry quietly.

Ezra: She’s not one for sad emotions or caring about people, so she doesn’t really cry!

Fhariem: When she hears about the few other Courtiers she likes dying or falling to the more violent Court ways.

Envert: She doesn’t cry, just laughs manically!

Cherie: If someone doesn’t want to be his friend, meaning he actually has to fight them instead of working things out nicely :c

Fuilliome: He cries over friends being hurt, he knows he has made enemies and feels pretty guilty if it bounces back on anyone he knows. He’s made a habit of only befriending people who can really handle each other.

Renee: She used to cry over catastrophes and big disasters, but now it’s more if you’ve seen one you’ve seen em all. Truly overly happy moments will make her cry though.

Tenor: Friends dying makes her sad, she might cry a little performatively. Ans she will cry to save face or garner pity from others, she’s just a sweet perfect noble girl after all!

Jioro: Aqun or Roanna or Laranthir facing any pain would make her cry, but she’s pretty overall tough and ornery emotionally.

20.  What was something they struggled with greatly and how did they overcome it?

Taomesin: They struggled with the difficulties brought up by asking for help and being ignored or punished for it, they overcame this by learning to never ask for help or voice concerns ever again! c:

Nixxte: They struggled with the complete vicious removal of their lower jaw, but over time they’ve recovered and learned sign language and have both a work and casual set of artificial jaws made!

Tirs: She struggled with the betrayal of her first girlfriend, Envert. But she’s been able to move forward, learned none of it was her fault, and has made some very supportive friends who’ve helped her regain her old vitality and enthusiasm!

Mint: They have struggled with Most Of Their Life, fraught with torture and rape trigger warnings that they think they’re finally recovering from but are actually still thoroughly buried in thanks to a very manipulative boyfriend who’s fantastic at gasslighting and confusing Mint.

Bodacc: She’s struggled with integrating into asuran society, having been raised through Charr society. She’s still trying to overcome either her charr-like habits, or her need to be accepted by other asuras.

Mango: She’s chill! Hasn’t really struggled yet.

Imekaari: He’s struggled with how closed off Lace is, and the fact that he’s not naturally a confrontational person so isn’t good at trying to get Lace to understand they need help. But he’s been getting better with this, having actively gotten Lace to open up to him at least and now he’s also been able to full-on enforce bedrest and recovery for them! One day he’ll even get them to finally seek out actual therapeutic help.

Tojoll: tbh she hasn’t had much difficulties! She’s my happy commander, no one has died everything has been a victory! This Kralkatorrik situation is the most difficult situation for her so far tbh because the fucker just won’t die.

Elaphurus: They struggled with a lot, primarily the fact that when Mordremoth died their memory was wiped completely! They awoke afraid and confused and have slowly been learning the world and about themself with the help of very nice new friends.

Aqun: Earlier on in life she struggled with being taken seriously as a soldier, being visibly a rich girl who’s been handed everything in life. But she has worked hard and proven herself to be someone who’s very self reliant, responsible, and worthy of a title.

Tvelle: She struggled as a kid fitting into asuran society. She was a lot more hotheaded and started a lot of fights in school. She eventually ran away shortly before joining a college, and joined the Vigil. Over the years she’s mellowed out quite a bit, but has found people who respect her choices and lack of discipline and has worked on passing on that support to others she meets who need a helping hand!

Whomstdve: Nothing yet! She’s chill

Laighe: She’s struggled with SO MUCH and hasn’t truly overcome any of it yet. She’s a walking mess, it’s a wonder she’s still holding herself together honestly.

Ennreck: He’s not your average charr, not very confrontational and a fan of alone time. Early on he left the Citadel and moved far away, eventually stumbling onto olmakhan territory, spending some time with them, collecting supplies, and building his own ranch in the desert nearby!

Aezlin: He has no difficulties, he gets whatever he wants! If something is wrong Oriphio will fix it~

Vellask: She struggled greatly with being infected by a parasitic fungus that latched onto her brain! It was nearly fatal but she was actually able to somehow manage to communicate with it, the two have worked out a mutually beneficial compromise in which she lets it spread as she travels and it doesn’t kill her so she can be a mobile distributor for it.

Terizzi: They went through a few things in a row, first falling to Mordremoth and then being captured by inquest for studies and experimentation. It was extremely traumatic and terrifying, and they still haven’t truly recovered. They cope by not trusting ANYONE now and living an incredibly isolated life with their pets.

Strair: The one thing in their life they struggled with truly was the one time they failed an undercover mission and were caught by the White Mantle. They have permanent physical alterations, and would have died in there if Lace hadn’t convinced Illiadde to come save them. They made a solid recovery though! They really have nothing emotionally to recover from.

Kvold: Spent years and years being extremely emotionally abused and manipulated, eventually he was forcibly rescued from the Court and began rehabilitation in Lace’s house! He’s still very cautious about emotionally investing in people now, since it ruined most of his life and mentality, but he is healing. He’s reconciled with Wrelia, helped Liaur also escape the Court, and has rebuilt a lot of friendships!

Embrant: Her biggest difficulty was when Wrelia had completely broken down. She spent a lot of time gently helping her girlfriend recover emotionally, and was incredibly loving and patient. Now, the two are happily married~

Rieft: No large difficulties! Just a good ol adrenalin junkie having one hell of a time!

Illiadde: Her entire life is a struggle and she will never recover.

Cue: He basically lost his life from before HoT when he crashed with the Pact and fell to Mordremoth. He came out of the ordeal with severe anger issues and some mordrem features that left most people very not chill with him. He had a hard time finding work to survive on and was really just getting by until Lace hired him to build them a new house. Since then, the two got to know each other and the rest is history! They’re both helping each other grow from a lot of shit.

Odollumn: She never struggles, she doesn’t much care about difficult situations.

Regniette: They have died several times and have multiple deals with multiple entities to keep their body going! It’s a very bad coping mechanism for avoiding death and they intend to keep it up for as long as it’ll still work.

Nimue: He’s lived an actually very peaceful nomadic life, avoiding any stressful areas or people!

Ezra: She copes with everything by killing the source of stress, it’s never gotten to a point of serious emotional struggle for her before she’s taken the source out.

Fhariem: She struggled with seeing the Court change from using Nightmare to separate from the dream, to enforcing nightmare upon others as if they were no better than the Pale Tree. She tried for a while to change things from inside the Court until leaving it to go join the Priory to preserve the more ‘honorable’ history of the Court.

Envert: She struggled with getting kicked out of the Grove, though she really changed nothing about herself and is now incredibly bitter that they’d kick her out over some meager experiments. She’s since gained her own very very shady lab in the middle of nowhere.

Cherie: Has not struggled, is a good and pure happy boi!

Fuilliome: Hasn’t truly suffered, loves his job, is good at his job, has had some sad or difficult moments but is well adjusted overall!

Renee: The first big catastrophe she saw end a civilisation was tragic for her, she was broken for years. But as she lived through lifetimes and seeing cities rise and fall, she has reconciled with the fact that no matter how much ruin strikes, life will always find a way to rebuild. Things will always move on.

Tenor: She’s spoiled and makes sure she gets exactly everything she wants! No big struggles for this horrible woman!

Jioro: Major social anxiety has actually been a huge struggle for her, though with those she counts in her loved ones she can make it through events now without leaving early. Though she still hates social events overall.

22. If they could change just one thing about themselves, what would it be?

Taomesin: They’d be more durable, they find their loss of limbs to be a hindrance and it means at least a couple days getting used to prosthetic limbs when they could instead be working on saving the world.

Nixxte: They’d like their lower jaw back pls

Tirs: She’d like to be a little less jumpy in serious relationships, Envert left quite an impression.

Mint: They’d like to be cured from their PTSD, they want to be okay again…

Bodacc: She’d make herself smarter, trying to fit more into typical asuran standards.

Mango: She’s actually quite happy as is!

Imekaari: He’d like to be comfortable being a bit more assertive when necessary.

Tojoll: She’s Flawless and very content with herself

Elaphurus: They’d like to look less intimidating to people, they just want to make friends and learn about the world

Aqun: She’d like to not have died once and tied herself to Glint to come back. She finds Glint weak and spineless and undeserving of boing sort of back in the world after she put the weight of the world on a child.

Tvelle: She’d like to be a little less intense emotionally, she can come on a bit strong to new people which makes some people uneasy at first.

Whomstdve: She’s Cursed And Perfect

Laighe: She’d like to be more confident in herself and not so unsure about what she’s doing. So much has happened and she’s feeling so lost but like she can’t stop…

Ennreck: Sometimes he wishes he was a bit more of a typical charr, but overall he’s generally content with how his life has panned out. He’s living a tough but happy life.

Aezlin: He’s FLAWLESS he’ll never need to change at all~

Vellask: She’d honestly love to not have a parasitic fungus hitchhiking in her head any more.

Terizzi: They’d like to not be Damaged, to not have gone through the jungle or the experiments.

Strair: A little more flexibility could be nice~

Kvold: He’d like to have been born to the dream instead of to nightmare. He’s never truly gotten to be a dreamer or feel that connection.

Embrant: She is actually quite happy as she is! After all, the love of her life thinks she’s perfect as is~

Rieft: She’d like to have a little more bulk to her, and is working on that!

Illiadde: She’d like to be dead.

Cue: He’d like to lose his mordrem features and his short temper fuse

Odollumn: She doesn’t even consider changing herself.

Regniette: They’d like for their body to be more durable for easier upkeep between deaths.

Nimue: He’s quite content as is!

Ezra: She’d like to be even faster and stronger, play with her prey longer than she already does.

Fhariem: She’s content as is, it’s the Court that she thinks needs to change.

Envert: She wishes she seemed less suspicious to people, it’d make it easier to pull in new test subjects!

Cherie: He’d like to be a little less naive, though honestly he’s not doing much to change that and he really is just so trusting and friendly and hopes the best of everyone.

Fuilliome: He’s happy the way he is!

Renee: She’s actually quite content, she’s immortal so if she ever has or does want to change anything she has all the time in the world to make it happen.

Tenor: She’s so happy in her current life. No changes necessary~

Jioro: She’d like to severely lower her social anxiety so she can function in society better.

[felidae-charr]

Sylvari post-Mordremoth (aka where has it all gone wrong?)

SPOILERS FOR HEART OF THORNS CONTENT. ALSO WARNING: THIS IS LONG.

As I promised, a post looking at the present day Sylvari in a post-Mordremoth world and why ArenaNet basically screwed the pooch on this one. Or, at least, why I feel they do. Some of you might disagree - and that’s cool! You’re welcome to reblob and say why or send me an ask.

Anybody who plays Sylvari and, in particular, roleplays them will have noticed and realised that we have a bit of an issue on our hands. If you’re playing to present-day-Tyria standards, we now live in a post-Mordremoth world! Hurray! Right? Guys? Hurray...?

The truth is, the ending of Heart of Thorns left a lot to be desired. ArenaNet’s continued focus on Sylvari as their new race - which caused problems in the main story with Trahearne being an unfortunate scapegoat for poor writing, and caused problems for Heart of Thorns because it alienated non-Sylvari mains even more - has in actual fact worked against their favour. Due to their poor writing and the lack of spacing between giving races an equal focus, the end of Heart of Thorns didn’t just bring about an end to Mordremoth, but it heralded an end to ArenaNet even remembering that Sylvari actually exist at all.

Sylvari players are now stuck in a very strange place. The Avatar of the Pale Tree is still as unconscious as ever, with her physics-defying leaf dress and all, and none of the NPCs in the Chamber react as if there is actually anything wrong in the first place. This is a huge oversight - I can’t state that enough - because it means we have no answers to questions that are genuinely important.

It would be like walking into your home instance in Hoelbrak after the latest events of the living story season, and Eir being notably missing - but also her statue being missing. And everybody just acting like Eir’s still totally alive. (To be fair, I haven’t actually entered that home instance since, nor have I even remotely gotten a Norn through HoT, so I can’t say accurately how things react. But to my knowledge, it isn’t quite as... disjointed as this is.)

ArenaNet have suddenly realised that they tunnelled so hard on Sylvari that they made almost everybody else sick of them. (Not I, I’ll mention here. I loved it, until the ending, which was horrible.) And as an end result of that, they’ve suddenly avoided the race entirely - and this is just as terrible because it makes no logical sense.

The build up to Sylvari being dragon minions was huge - the racism became a real thing in the game. People didn’t trust Sylvari. People in the Maguuma still overly don’t (yes, okay, I’ll give leeway and admit that they have to react as if they’re still amidst the Heart of Thorns content and thus it’s slightly forgivable.) But do you mean to tell me that after Trahearne’s self-sacrificial act, to bring about an end to Mordremoth, the world suddenly just forgot how much damage had been caused? It doesn’t matter whether or not the Sylvari meant to, it doesn’t matter whether or not the Sylvari intentionally murdered quite a large number of people. Wounds that large just don’t heal that easily.

Hell, we still see plenty of instances of humans distrusting Charr and vice versa, and there have been attempts to get a peace treaty drawn up between those races for ages. 

There are other problems, too. The state of the Pale Tree is a huge question mark in the very fate of the race: what happens to the Dream of Dreams if she fades away? Is she fading away? She’s still practically dead for all intents and purposes, given that her Avatar has now been lying there for so long it probably has the plant equivalent of bed sores. Can new Sylvari actually spawn after Mordremoth has fallen, or is the Pale Tree too weak?

It’s really quite inexcusable. The writing is terrible, because the writing doesn’t want to commit to finishing the story properly. It would be more forgivable if there were at least mentions of it anywhere, at least as a Sylvari player. Just somebody like Rox or bloody anybody asking “Hey so how’s your Mom doing?” because the Pale Tree is such an important figurehead to all Dreamers and she was quite viciously attacked and almost murdered.

Yet she just seems woefully non-important any more, likely because ArenaNet have thrown their Sylvari they were so proud of to the wayside in fear of people rolling their eyes and asking why Sylvari are still involved in a story when the focus is on Jormag and also a weird strange dragon baby and maybe Primordus. The answer if anybody did ask that, by the way, is because Sylvari do still actually exist. And they have actually just undergone something immensely traumatic to their entire race. Their Mother is almost dead, the Nightmare Court have also finally lost their leader in the flesh, the oldest Firstborn sacrificed himself (and I’m still convinced that was the worst way ArenaNet could apologise for his appearance and importance in the main personal story against Zhaitan, and even then he was just a scapegoat for terrible writing and it wasn’t his fault, damn it!) and they lost a good number of Sylvari when their main city was attacked.

It would be like if you had an event where centaurs stormed into Divinity’s Reach, smacked the Queen around until they put her in a coma, and then also murdered Logan - and then nobody spoke of it ever again. The Queen was just propped up in her throne and the guards pretend she’s totally okay and is a very busy lady, nobody even seems to bat an eyelid at the fact that Logan’s dead as a doornail. It would be weird, wouldn’t it? And, rightfully, the human players would complain, wouldn’t they? Of course they would! They’d have every right to! Because it’s bad writing and there isn’t an excuse for it.

Basically, in summation, I really hate what ArenaNet are doing right now because it’s just awful. They’ve handled so many things poorly across the main story and the expansion content that they backed themselves into an impossible corner, and now their attempted solution is to say “LOOK! LOOK AT THE SHINY ICE DRAGON! Oooh, isn’t it shiny? Look! LOOK OOOH NORN, LOTS OF NORN - forget about the Sylvari in the corner!” 

And as a Sylvari main, with a lot of Sylvari characters, and with a lot of love for the lore that they haven’t yet awkwardly retconned, it pisses me off. I’m super happy to go exploring further North, don’t get me wrong, and I’m super happy to get to explore the Norn race and characters some more as this progresses further! But could we at least give the Sylvari some actual closure?

[strongfeelingsaboutsalads]

So I keep meaning to put together a nice little collection of character profiles. I finally got around to writing some “messy little blurbs” for them, but... they got out of hand. So much text below.

Ainbheach 

Sylvari. My precious troubled boy. Something over a year old. Complicated relationship status. Recovering alcoholic. Had something of a human preoccupation right out of the pod, since his Dream showed him mostly images of them and Kryta. Traveled to Divinity’s Reach as soon as he could, and very soon ran into a particular human he was certain he’d caught a glimpse of in his Dream. They had an affair, in Ain’s eyes a grand story of fated love. Unfortunately, this was also around the time he discovered alcohol. Things spiraled out of control and the relationship disintegrated with a lot of hurt on both sides.

The following months involved a lot of fumbling around the city and self-discovery and working through the bitterness of having naive dreams shattered by reality. He’s doing much better lately. He’s starting to find a kind of peace with himself. He went through a bit of a rejection of his human-fanboyism which led him to shed some ideas that upon reflection didn’t feel natural to him, including strict concepts of gender and presentation.

He ran into his ex boyfriend again more recently. Through work, no less. And he still very much has feelings. It’s a very, very uncomfortable situation.

Arisaema 

Sylvari. Gunsmith. Maybe 7-ish? Spent a fair bit of her life in the Black Citadel honing her craft, but that came to an abrupt and unpleasant end after Mordremoth rose. Between the shifting attitudes and the voice calling to her, all she felt she could do was flee. This only helped one of her problems. She did have the dubious fortune of running into a far-flung Nightmare Courtier named Cearnan and a human he seemed to have some sort of control over. Both sylvari’s main goal was just to resist Mordremoth, and both succeeded, but it was far from a pleasant experience for Ari. She didn’t even realize that Mordremoth had been defeated until some time after, when [someone who thanks to multiple reworkings of this story is now uncertain] killed Cearnan.

The human turned out to have his own complicated history and quite a bit of his own trauma. Ari took it upon herself to look after him since he was quite incapable of taking care of himself at that point. They currently live peacefully in Applenook Hamlet.

Galen Blake 

Human, early-mid 20’s. Married. Very polite, but also very disinterested in the affairs of most people. Much more interested in his necromancy and his religion. And seeing as he has a particular affinity for Grenth, he tends not to think of there being a huge distinction between the two things.

Common born. Had a bit of a tiff with his parents and doesn’t really talk to them anymore. All because it’s apparently considered in bad taste to practice your necromancy on recently dead relatives. Pffft, some people, amirite? (Though in all seriousness, he DOES feel pretty bad about that now.)

The story of how he met and got involved with Rilias is one of chance meetings and unspoken longings and observant third parties trying to nudge the dumb boys in love into actually talking to each other, and it’s all much more than I can go into here.

Galen’s current social status is… odd. Rilias is technically kind of nobility, but in a loose, no-actual-power kind of way, putting Galen in the even odder position of only sort of marrying into nobility in a way that doesn’t actually offer him much of an elevation in status. But he does have access to more luxuries now, and he’s quite asocial anyway, so it works out for him.

Jeanine Cantrell

Human. A bit of a non-character in that she does have a backstory and the start of a personality I like, but a good chunk of it doesn’t actually belong in GW2. In another universe, royal badass and drag king.

Cearnabhan 

Pod-twin of Cearnan. (Originally Cearnan WAS Cearnabhan, but they got separated out into two characters because I got tired of my only guardian technically being dead. And evil.) Not very developed yet, though there’s probably a whole lot of juicy drama to explore around the whole “my twin fell in with the Nightmare Court” thing. Both are pretty blueberry boys, but I suspect Cearnan got the bulk of the overt charm.

Cearnan - Deceased Nightmare Courter. Not a character I actually have, but he got some development. The twins probably started off bright and promising, quickly becoming capable future fighters of evil.

But Cearnan was starting to think. He’d heard Nightmare Court propaganda and dismissed it as such, as he’d been taught, but as he had time to let some of their ideas roll around in his mind, the more sense they made to him. He found many of Ventari’s tenets vague and unhelpful. And what tight did a long-dead centaur have to dictate sylvari morality, anyway? Still, he wasn’t certain he much cared for the Court’s methods.

As time crept on, however, he came to the conclusion that the better way he was looking for just didn’t exist. Life in the Grove was peaceful but stifling, and running off to some isolated village trying to cut himself off from the world wasn’t his idea of freedom. The Nightmare—he’d seen the Nightmare by now—wasn’t pretty, but that was the strange appeal.

Unsurprisingly, it did not go well when he finally brought all this up with his brother. They had several heated arguments over the next few days in which each tried without success to bring the other to their way of thinking. In the end, they reached an uneasy sort of truce and went their separate ways. They did not meet again.

Cearnan turned out to be quite good as a Courtier. Charisma was his tool. He could make people feel comfortable around him and present his ideas gradually in the most appealing possible light. There were plenty of young sylvari who could be convinced to follow his lead. Forcing the issue was a last resort. He always maintained a sort of disdain for those among his number who seemed to enjoy the chaos and destruction too much. He did start to understand where they were coming from as he embraced the Nightmare more fully, but there was still a goal to meet that required focus.

The story of how he ended up dead all the way out in Ascalon is a whole other thing that I’ll write up another time. (Only partly because it still has a couple holes I need to work through.)

Chwilen 

Sylvari, 14 years old. Initial interest in necromancy had a very artistic bent to it, focusing on craftsmanship, an understanding of anatomy, and an eye for form. As time passed and her talents grew, so too did her awareness of the word around her. She had an idealistic streak and a sense of wanting to be useful to her community that drove her into the fight against the Elder Dragons. She found a niche with the Order of Whispers, were someone small and quiet with the ability to quickly summon a small army of backup proved helpful. And when the Pact eventually formed, she was part of it.

The fight against Zhaitan was quite possibly her peak. The risen, while not quite the same as her minions, were still something she felt she understood and could handle. She was at her most confident and focused on a clear goal. And of course, there was sometimes the presence of a certain Firstborn whom she idolized.

Mordremoth changed everything. The Pact which had become her community was torn to shreds. She, so used to being the minion master, was now feeling the pull of another’s will. She’d come to think of herself as one of the protectors of Tyria, but that felt like a thin sham against her now certain knowledge that she was created as a tool of Mordremoth. She’d always been a good follower.

It took every ounce of her will to make it out of the jungle without completely losing herself, helped in no small part by her brethren and thoughts of the friends she’d made in the world she wanted to protect. She had to convince herself that the feeling of wrongness was just the dragon’s mind games. She didn’t entirely succeed at that, but she did press on.

The worst part of it all was that she felt very little relief at Mordremoth’s defeat. She’d done the right thing, she must have, but she didn’t feel like it. Word of Trahearne’s death only left her numb. It seemed portentous. Something more fundamental to the world than an enemy had died. That idea scared her more than Mordremoth ever had.

She tried to keep working with the Pact to help them rebuild, but she was thoroughly burnt out. Worse than that, the unspeakable sense that perhaps Mordremoth should have won stuck with her. She lived with friends for a time while she tried to settle back down into a life without thinking about the Elder Dragons. She has been doing much better lately, though she tries to avoid too much news about recent activity. Some of the things she’s heard stir up the old feelings that she may not have been on the right side after all.

Culcasia 

Sylvari. She has a pretty sword and is my warrior. That’s literally all.

Ferthainn 

Sylvari. No real development. But leaf puppies! Three of them. At least. (Ranger pet, sylvari elite summonable, and mini.) He probably cares for them or raises them or something. I’ve decided to justify the summoned that he can’t just wander around with all the time as being a rescued hound that the Court was trying to turn. So it’s a bit touchy still.

Ikallis 

Charr. Not very developed. The most terrified looking of charr and/or the sweetest grandma charr, I can’t quite decide. I told myself I’d come up with a warband for her “later,” but it’s been years and that hasn’t happened so I don’t even know anymore. Keeps devourers.

Jattzil

 Asura. Revenant. No character.

Alaric Landi 

Human. Noble. Pretty boy who hasn’t quite found his niche or his confidence yet. One of my too many magic nerds, with the twist being he’s not… Well not any good at it. At all. Probably a fair bit of tension with his sister Amara since she’s the competent one. At least he can use a sword and shoot straight.

Amara Landi 

Human. Noble. Needs development. Mesmer. Sister of Alaric. Probably the one actually running things.

Liathann 

Sylvari. Magic nerd. Probably very water focused and possibly some earth? Possibly some other areas of interest. Escort boyfriend who’s also a history nerd. Probably a fairly casual sort of thing. Not very developed yet, but he’s a very pretty twig.

Ilta Lightweaver 

Norn. Needs development. Cute little sylvari girlfriend who’s not actually that little for a sylvari, but norn. Probably one of my low-combat characters, with something nice and mesmer-y for an occupation.

Mari Ovesdottir 

Norn. The smallest and daintiest of norn. But with firearms. And a baby griffon that’s probably canon. Needs development.

Lynette Rhodes

Human. Lesser nobility. Aromantic. Lesbian. Tends toward a lot of friends with benefits arrangements. Not to be mistaken for detachment or flightiness, she cares very strongly about maintaining friendships and alliances, just if you’re looking for romance you’d best look elsewhere. A lot of what she does is with the ultimate goal of building allies, status, or funds to maintain her family’s somewhat tenuous position. Notable part of a couple other character’s lives: Employed Galen for a bit and is responsible for him meeting his husband; Chwilen’s partner on some Order of Whispers business, as well as one of the aforementioned friends with benefits arrangements. Pretty close with Chwilen, actually.

Calanthe Riverwind 

Human. Common. Might have a girfriend? Has a twin sister, Catrione. (Also I think a brother, oops I don’t do enough with her and the brother belongs to someone else.) Cat’s the more outgoing of the two and an unrepentant flirt, while Cala tends to be the quieter bookish one. While Cat is more likely to be the troublemaker, it doesn’t exactly take much convincing for Cala to run with it. Not to be mistaken for meekness. Mess with her or get her angry and she will respond with fiery passion. Quite possibly involving literal fire.

Garrick Selway 

Human, common, jeweler and keeper of dogs. Needs development.

Tetchii 

Asura. My oldest character and holder of random crap that doesn’t fit in my bank.

[brax-was-here]

Scarlet Briar: The Seeds of Life Chapter 10

Written by: Braxxus

Chapter 10: The First Step is the Toughest

Sometimes we chose the wrong path

The Nightmare Court moved southward through the jungle of the Auric Basin region making their way to the domain of the jungle dragon. The journey was hazardous, not just because of the mordrem, but most of the jungle’s other inhabitants were not friendly as well. They had encountered giant bizarre insect like creatures that would come in swarms, with some larger creatures projecting some kind of energy. They were passing through a section of the jungle that was thick with vegetation when Nafiona made a realization.

“Ordhram?” she spoke softly, her gaze turning to the trees above them.  

“Yes, m’lady?” her subordinate replied immediately.

“It’s eerily quiet here.” She noted. “It feels as if all the jungle’s creatures have been frightened away…or killed.” She raised her hand to stop the group from moving forward.

“Listen.” The only sound heard was the breeze as the leaves rustled in the canopy, and even it sounded eerily strange. She quickly turned to her courtiers.

“We’re entering the realm of the jungle dragon.” She spoke in a commanding tone. “Mordremoth may be dead, but that doesn’t mean this area is any less dangerous. Be extremely cautious.” She looked up at Ordhram, who was stoically staring at the twisted path leading into the broken landscape ahead.

“What’s the matter, Caelan? You look a little unnerved.” One of the courtiers spoke quietly, a slight smirk on her face as she nudged him on the shoulder.

“No!” he snapped back. “No. It’s just…it’s just after all we went through…everything that has happened. Here we are. In the land of our creator. How he took control of many of us here.” Caelan was on edge. “It’s…it’s not safe for us here.” He stammered.

“Nafiona knows what she is doing.” The courtier reassured him. “There is nothing that can happen that we can’t take care of. Remember, this is for a better world.” The courtier smiled at him warmly.

“I…I suppose you’re right.” Caelan replied nervously.

“I am right.” She assured him.

“Yes, but…but what if- “

“Caelan! Stop worrying!” The courtier barked at him in a huff.

“Hold here.” Nafiona shouted as a pungent odor drifted on the wind. “Ordhram?”

“I smell it too, m’lady. It’s the smell of rotting death.”

“Scouts. Check the path ahead and report back.” A pair of courtiers bowed to Nafiona before disappearing. “We’ll wait here for them to return. Set up a guard perimeter.” She ordered.

“The battles here must have been fierce.” Ordhram stated as te courtiers moved into defensive positions around the group. “It must have been nearly constant fighting.” Nafiona nodded her head lightly. Within the hour the scouts returned.

“M’lady.” They bowed to her. “There are the remains of a battle not far ahead.”

“Then let’s keep moving.” Nafiona motioned the group forward. Moving through the dark pathways of the jungle, the smell slowly grew stronger. The path would lead them to an open area of ravaged landscape that revealed the source of the foul odor. The silent battlefield before them was strewn with corpses. Many mordrem, some pact members, and some she recognized as members of the Court. The group slowly marched forward into the field of death, spreading out checking the dead.

“The jungle dragon was throwing everything at them.” Ordhram noted looking over the bodies.

“M’lady!” one of the courtiers called to Nafiona. The duchess cautiously maneuvered around the bodies of the fallen to see what the courtier had found.

“What is it?” she looked upon the body of a courtier, its armor bearing a familiar sigil.

“The sigil of Duchess Chrysanthea, m’lady.” The courtier responded.

“She was here. These must have been her courtiers.” Nafiona turned her attention to other fallen sylvari nearby.

“M’lady, Duke Goron is here as well…or rather what’s left of him.” A courtier knelt at the partially dismembered sylvari corpse.

“Goron?” Nafiona moved slowly over to the body. “I’m sure his arrogance was his downfall.” She sneered.

“It feels like something terrible is watching us here.” Caelan complained as he looked at a fallen pact soldier.

“You think the dead are suddenly going to rise up and attack us?” another courtier asked playfully.

“It’s not funny, Pirrita. Remember the risen would just jump up and attack.” He reminded his compatriot.

“Hah! But Zhaitan is dead. They can’t do that anymore.” The courtier laughed. “What have I told you about worrying? You need to stop.”

“There is nothing for us here. Let us move on.” Nafiona ordered the group. “The prize is waiting for us.”

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

“How in Tyria do you know where you are going through all these tunnels?” Ceara asked as the group followed the nuhock through the underground burrows.

“It’s easy.” One of them grumbled. “We have markings at the burrow entrance that tells us where they lead.”

Liathlas snickered playfully at the remarked. “Shush, you.” Ceara lightly snapped at her. They exited the current tunnel back into the jungle.

“This is as far as we go underground.” The nuhock stated. The group paused.

“This is...” Ceara gasped.

“The realm of the dragon.” Malyck finished the sentence as he stepped out into the darkened landscape. The air was still, and the sounds of the jungle’s creatures were silent. Thorned vines twisted everywhere through the broken terrain, standing motionless as if frozen in time, forming a nightmarish world. Ceara’s heart started racing. She felt panicked. It was the realm of her nightmares while under Mordremoth’s sway.

“I…can’t…I can’t…” She turned to reenter the burrow, only to be stopped by Malyck in front of her.

“Scarlet.” He spoke softly. She stared at him. “You’re braver than this. Is this who you really are?”

“Get out of my way! Now!” she shouted shoving past him.

“Mother…” a child’s voice drifted through her mind, causing her to take pause. She closed her eyes tightly, her brow furrowing. Images of the visions she had been having passed through her mind. The child pale tree, the sword, the crystalline vines. She breathed in deep, trying to calm her still racing heart.

“Peace…” the voice said softly. Ceara slowly opened her eyes. The world around her had grown cold and dark, wrapped in a swirling black fog. A soft glow appeared in the swirling darkness, approaching slowly. Within moments the form of the child pale tree parted the mist, floating just off the ground towards her. It slowly raised its arms out to Ceara and smiled warmly. Cautiously, Ceara stepped forward, reaching out and with great care, took a hold of the small avatar’s tiny hands.

“Have strength…” it spoke softly. Ceara felt a wave of calm wash over her as the image faded and the fog cleared, her arms slowly falling to her sides.

“I was never afraid before.” She said to herself, a lone tear slowly flowed down her cheek. She looked over her shoulder at her partners, who were looking back at her.

“Are you ok?” Liathlas asked, somewhat sheepishly. Ceara returned to them.

“We have a mission.” Her voice raspy but determined. “We have to find that seed and stop the Nightmare Court.” She looked down the dark path the lay before them, drawing a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

“How do we know which way to go?” Liathlas asked.

“The lair of the dragon is to the south.” The nuhock directed them, pointing down the path. “Follow the energy sparks.”

“Energy sparks?” Ceara turned to giant creature.

“Yes. Lightning erupts from the ground periodically in this area. It travels towards the lair.”

“Ley energy?” Ceara’s thoughts returned to Sanctum harbor.

“Start the drill!” her voice shouted through her head. “I redirected the leyline here.” She muttered quietly. “It will lead us right to…” she paused, turning to Malyck and Liathlas. “We have to hurry!” She started hurrying through the twisted landscape. Liathlas and Malyck looked at each other before following behind her. The trail twisted and turned through the vine covered landscape.

“There.” Ceara shouted spotting a small eruption of energy from a crevasse in the ground. Lightning sporadically arced across the terrain, flowing towards the south.

“What do you think we’ll find when we get there?” Liathlas shouted.

“I don’t know, but I’m eager to find out.” Ceara replied to her.

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

Playing her cards carefully with a band of outlaws, Orla had managed to secure a way through the bandit-controlled areas of Brisban Wildlands. She gained the trust of a group that were travelling east which worked in her favor. Her thoughts turned to revenge.

“Amaranda. I have not forgotten. Your time is coming, dreamer.” Her face twisted in disgust.

“So, what’s your deal?” one of the bandits asked.

“Hmm?” Orla’s attention snapped back. “What did you ask?”

“What’s your deal? Why a lone Nightmare Courtier out here in the wilderness asking for help? From an unsavory group such as us?” A chuckle went through the group.

“I’d rather keep that information to myself.” She snarled as she turned her gaze away from him.

“Oooh, super-secret dark sylvari information. So, let me guess. You’re looking for some magical artifact that will grant you unlimited power that you will use to ‘destroy the giant tree and take over the sylvari’ am I right?”

“It would be best if you kept your questions to yourself.” She spat at him.

“OOooo, a little testy. Consider yourself lucky, lass, that we haven’t killed you yet.”

“Ken, leave her alone.” One of the others said. “It’s obvious she doesn’t want to deal with your nonsense right now.”

“What? Loran, since when did you side with the plants?”

“I’m not siding with the plants. I’m just sayin I got the feelin’ that eggin’ her on like that is gonna be a sorry situation for you.” Loran warned.

“Bah! She don’t look like she could even break a twig.” Ken chuckled as he playfully waved his hand as if shooing her away.

“You should silence your tongue before I silence it for you.” Orla hissed at him.

“I’d like to see you try.” The bandit snapped back unsheathing his dagger in an instant. Orla disappeared from sight.

“See, Ken. I saw what she did to Markos back at the camp. You don’t want to mess with her.” Loran cautioned his partner as the group spread out away from the bewildered Ken.

“Where are you!?” the bandit shouted as he constantly moved about looking for his adversary. “Stop with the tricks and fight fair, ya shrub!”

The group laughed at the comment. Orla suddenly appeared behind him, grabbing him around the neck and locking his arm holding the dagger in place.

“Nice try, lass.” He managed to get his other arm behind her enough to toss her to the ground. Holding on to him tightly, she was able to drag him down with her, but he managed to kick loose and rolled away from her. Both combatants got to their feet quickly.

“Come on, lass. Don’t be afraid.” Ken mused as he wiped his chin. He spun quickly, slicing his blade through the air. Orla ducked, hearing the song of the weapon as it passed over her head. She grabbed his wrist and tried to toss him to the ground again, but he grabbed her around the neck with his free arm.

“Whatcha gonna do now, lass?” He whispered in her ear. Orla watched as he slowly turned the dagger towards her as she tried to hold his weapon at bay. She stomped on the bridge of his foot with all her strength.

“Gah!” he growled. “Nice try, but that aint- “ She stomped again, hearing a snap indicating that she had broken one of his bones.

“Aaaaaah!!!” Ken cried out. He shoved her away as he reached for his boot. “She broke my foot!”

“That’s not all.” Orla snarled at him. He looked up at her just in time to feel her foot connect with the side of his head, knocking him to the ground.

“Ok, that’s enough. You taught him his lesson for the day.” The bandit Loran slowly walked over, kneeling to check on his fallen comrade. “Let’s get him up on the wagon.” A few of the group picked up their unconscious Ken and tossed him in the small carriage.

“You fight well, sylvari.” Loran said to Orla. “If you ever need a group to run with…”

“No thanks. I have all I need.”

Loran nodded his head. “Alright, then let’s get moving. We gotta make it to the camp by sundown or we’ll all be dead.”

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As the Nightmare Court marched farther south through the dragon’s realm, the terrain became increasingly difficult to navigate. Gigantic, thorned vines, that had once erupted from the ground, fractured and upheaved the landscape, creating a nightmarish world ruled by the jungle dragon. Throughout their journey, they would occasionally come across more of the dead. Rotted corpses of warriors and mordrem with no one to bury them.  

“Such a shame.” Caelan mentioned as they passed another field of battle.

“Hmm?” Nafiona glanced over her shoulder at the courtier. “What is it?”

“All this fighting. How many of our people slain?” He asked solemnly as he passed by a fallen sylvari.

“What’s done is done.” Nafiona said to him. “They knew the risks coming here. They knew what could happen and they paid the price with their blood.”

“To protect Tyria from the elder dragons.” He pondered for a moment. “M’lady? Do you think it’s true that the Pale Tree is a dragon champion?” He asked her.

Nafiona paused, turning to him, staring him in the eyes. Caelan felt as if her gaze was staring into his soul. She smiled at him. “Of course, I do, young one. And that is part of the plan.” She spoke gleefully. “Imagine, if you will, the Pale Tree, a champion of the jungle dragon, under our control. Why, the Nightmare Court would have an endless army of sylvari. Just imagine, Tyria governed by our rule.” She smiled sinisterly at the thought. “And with the Pale Tree in its currently weakened state, it’s the perfect to strike!”

“But what about the commander? Surely-“ Caelan was cut off by the large sylvari.

“Know your place, Caelan.” Ordhram stepped forward. “M’lady will deal with that nuisance in due time.”

“You should watch your tongue, Caelan.” Nafiona said quietly to him. “Some words are razor sharp if not used properly.”

“I…forgive me, m’lady. I just worry that-“

“Enough!” Ordhram grabbed Caelan by the throat, lifting him off the ground.

“Ordhram, release him.” The large sylvari dropped him, causing the courtier to stumble to the ground as he gasped for air. Nafiona approached him, placing the end of her scepter under his chin. “You needed worry, young one. Everything is going to work out just as planned.”

“Yes…yes, m’lady.” Caelan bowed his head slightly to her.

“Good. Let’s keep moving.” She turned, hooking her scepter back to her belt. Another courtier slightly shoved Caelan as the group started moving again.

“But what if…” Caelan thought to himself, looking over the bodies of the long dead. “What if it doesn’t work? An army of sylvari?” He slowly meandered after the group. “Our whole creed is to live unbound by the tenants of Ventari. But do we have to destroy ourselves to fulfill a dream?” He looked ahead at Nafiona, who was busy talking to Ordhram. “A dream to rule Tyria. Are we not subjecting ourselves to the same thing? Give up being ruled by one to be ruled by another?” Caelan sighed as he quickened his pace to catch the rest of the courtiers.

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The route taken was just as twisted as the landscape through which it traveled. The trio moved as fast as they could as the land seemed to get darker and more foreboding the further south they went. Numerous times they came upon the remains of pact encampments along the path.

“They were as prepared as they could have been, it seems.” Ceara noted the remains of makeshift tools laying in the dirt near a fire pit that had long been extinguished.

“It seems they had allies to help with the fighting here.” Malyck noted, lifting the remains of a giant battlehammer laying in the dirt.

“It seems a little unnerving that we haven’t seen any mordrem here.” Liathlas stated. “If this is the jungle dragon’s domain, wouldn’t we have seen any?”

“Not unless the pact performed a complete annihilation here. This is where Mordremoth’s influence would be at its strongest.” Ceara shuddered at the thought. “If I had been here, he would have consumed me completely. I would have become one of the mordrem.” She thought to herself.

“Hey, you still with us?” Liathlas asked, poking Ceara in the shoulder.

“Yes, I’m still here. Just…just lost in thought about all this.” Looked up at a giant vine that twisted through a ridge not far away. “It’s a tad unsettling knowing what is here and what it did.” Her voice trailed off a bit as she noticed a small camp in the distance.

“The pact is here.” She spoke quietly.

“Indeed. And since we are now apparently wanted criminals by their standards, I think we should avoid them.” Malyck suggested, a stern tone in his voice.

“Is there another path around?” Liathlas asked.

“Judging by the landscape, that’s our only way forward.” Malyck looked at the fractured terrain around them.

“Maybe they haven’t been contacted by the others yet?” Liathlas suggested.

“It’s possible, but do we take the risk?” Ceara asked.

“It may be the only thing we can do.” Malyck replied.

“We could tell them we’re researchers looking for the rare flower that when prepared in a tonic it heightens one’s intellect.” Ceara muttered. Malyck stared blankly at her as Liathlas snickered to herself.

“Are you..are you serious?” Malyck asked.

“Hey, it worked before against the Vigil.” She answered. Malyck continued to stare. “What? Do you have any better suggestions?” Ceara looked at Malyck smugly, her hands on her hips.

“We don’t exactly look like researchers.” He rebuttled.

“Well, she’s dressed like a sylvari, and I’m dressed like a sylvari, and you…you’re the hired protection.” Liathlas added.

“And the rifle you’re carrying?” he motioned to the rifle slung on Ceara’s back.

“It’s a cryogenic freeze spray device.” She smirked.

Liathlas stifled her chuckling as she knew Malyck was not going to win this.

“We use this device to freeze the flower in stasis for transport back to our lab in the Grove.”

Malyck rolled his eyes, sighing. “Ok. But I don’t believe this will work.” The trio walked towards the pact camp.

“There doesn’t seem to be many around.” Liathlas noted a few members of the Durmond Priory conversing amongst themselves.

“Maybe through that opening beyond the camp.” Malyck suggested.

“Hail.” One of the scholars waved to the group. “This area is off limits to non-pact personnel. What brings you here?”

“We’re researchers from the Grove looking for certain flora here in the jungle. Especially a type of rare flower used to make tonics that could heighten one’s intellect!” Ceara quip excitedly.

The scholar pondered a moment, before looking at his comrades, one nodding to him. He turned back to the group. “Well, you seem to be in luck. We did find the rare Railatium Nocturnus growing in the moss around the base of the blighting tree in the grove beyond the cliff face.”

Ceara jaw dropped as she and Liathlas looked at each other in disbelief. They heard Malyck snort, stifling his laugh.

“Is there…is there more?” Ceara asked quietly.

“Possibly, but as I said, this area is off limits.”

“Oh, come on.” Ceara said in a huff, placing her hands on her hips. “You are going to deny us the chance of a lifetime!?”

“I’m sorry, but you aren’t allowed in the area.”

Ceara raised a finger to him. “Do you remember the first time you wanted to explore something, but you were told no? What did you do?”

“Well, I…uh…well, I snuck in.”

“Well, how do you think we feel? We traveled all the way here from the Grove to find this flower, and you are going to keep us from it because of some haughty rule.”

“Yes, but, ma’am- “

“Don’t you ‘but ma’am’ me. This is all for science.” Ceara leaned forward staring at the scholar, a disgruntled look on her face. Liathlas closed her eyes, trying to stifle her laughter. Malyck gazed out over the surrounding area keeping a calm composure.

The scholar looked back at his group, who were all laughing at him. “Ok, ok! Sheesh.” he relented. “Just be careful in there.”

“You’re so good to us.” Ceara smiled, gently tweaking the scholar’s cheek. “Ok, let’s go.” She spoke over her shoulder at her compatriots.

“You tweaked his face.” Liathlas giggled.

“I told you it would work.” They traveled through the opening, pausing at the sight that stood before them. Ceara’s heart sank as she gazed upon the remains of a blighting tree, a gnarled warped version of her mother.  

“Is that?” Liathlas asked.

“That is just one of many. What Mordremoth used to create his armies.” Malyck stepped forward. “Much like the one in the corpse grove.”

Ceara’s thoughts briefly drifted back to the vision she saw in the Mists. “Well, it’s dead now.” She spoke softly.

“Indeed. Dying just as the rest of them died when Mordremoth was vanquished.”

“Do you think the seed is here?” Liathlas asked.

“If it is all the scholars here from the Priory would have found it by now.” Ceara mentioned, noting the number of pact members in the area around the small grove.

“Perhaps we should ask?”

“I don’t think that would be wise.” Malyck rebutted. “It might be seen as suspicious.”

“I have an idea.” Ceara spoke. She quickly approached one of the scholars nearby.

“Excuse me! I’d like to talk to you!” she gleefully said to the asura.

“Yes…?” He paused staring at her. “Aren’t you...” His face betrayed his suspicion.

Ceara sighed heavily, rolling her eyes. “No, I’m not. I just happen to resemble her. I get mistaken a lot, sadly” She gave him a big smile.

“I…see…” he raised one eyebrow. “Well, I’m terribly busy right now, so what can I do for you? And make it quick.”

“I’m a researcher from the Grove and we’re looking for a rare flower that- “

“It’s already been found.”

“Well, yes but are there more?”

“Unlikely, maybe further in the cave.”

“The cave?”

“Yes, that way in the rock wall on the far side of this area.”

“Oh, thank you. Has there been anything else found here? Like seeds from this tree?”

“That seems rather specific, sylvari.” He turned to her.

“Well, I am a sylvari and we kind of have a thing for plants, you know.”

He sighed lightly. “No, we have not found anything like a seed. Now, please leave. I have work to do.”

“Thank you for your time, scholar.” Ceara returned to Liathlas and Malyck. “Well, no seeds seem to have been found, but he did mention a cave on the far side of this grove. Shall we?”

“Then let’s go.” Malyck answered.

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Orla travelled along the banks of the river that flowed through the southern part of Brisban Wildlands. She travelled as far as she could with the bandits, before breaking off from them without a word. The area she now travelled was populated by inquisitive Asura going about their research. She could see their iconic structures lit up in the evening sky in the distance. She paid them no mind as her real target was Amaranda. She would have to gain the trust of the local populance to find out where the seer resided and pay her a visit.

“I’ll have to be careful once I get to the village. I need to make sure the inhabitants don’t recognize me.” She thought to herself. “Find out where the dreamer lives, strike fast and quietly, and disappear into the night back to the arbor.” The sun set below the horizon by the time she could see lights from the sylvari village.

“Thorns. I’ll have to cross the lake.” She grumbled to herself. She quietly entered the cold water that took her breath momentarily as she swam across to the village. Pulling herself up on the shore, she started ringing the water out of her robe.

“Now this thing weighs more than Ordhram and Caelen combined.” She complained to herself. She cautiously entered the small village, spying a group of sylvari sitting around a table.

“Um, excuse me.” She called to them as innocently as she could. “Could you possibly help me?”

They turned to her. “Yes, what is the matter, sapling?” One of them responded looking up from his drink.

“I’m looking for a powerful seer. I am told that she lives in this village, that she could help me interpret my dream.”

“Ah, you are looking for Amaranda. She lives up the hillside.” He pointed out of the village. Orla looked up the hill and saw the soft lights from Amaranda’s home.

“Thank you very much.” Orla bowed lightly to them and started making her way up the pathway to the hilltop.

Amaranda knelt at her table, a book and papers laid out in front of her, a bowl of noodles in her hand, and Widget across from her.

“Anything yet?” she asked the small golem. It just beeped lightly as its gem flashed slowly from red to blue and back. She sighed lightly going to back to her book.

“Someone-approaches.” The golem spoke. Amaranda set down the bowl and stood, rushing to the door. The quick flash of a blade caused her to teleport backwards into her home, leaving a clone of herself in her place.

“Who’s out there!?” She shouted as her clone was steady launching small bolts of energy towards its target. Orla rushed through the illusion, which shattered as she raced into Amaranda’s home.

“You!? Again!?”” Amaranda shouted back.

“Now, dreamer. It’s time to settle this score.” Orla snarled through her teeth. The courtier leapt at her, causing Amaranda to sidestep. The courtier slashed her blade towards Amaranda, who back-pedaled, creating another clone in her place, this one wielding a sword. It slashed at Orla, burning her arm before she could dodge out of the way. With the courtier distracted for a moment, Amaranda darted to her room to retrieve her weapon, which hung on the wall near her bed. She unsheathed the sword and spun around just in time to knock Orla’s blade out of the way. Amaranda spun around again, slashing at the courtier, who easily dodged the attack, spinning herself low, tripping Amaranda to the floor. Orla jumped on her quickly, pinning her weapon down. She brought her dagger up to Amaranda’s neck.

“Please-no-fighting.” Widget’s electronic voice called out from behind a small cabinet.

“Now, dreamer, the time has come for you to meet that old cen-“ Orla was knocked to the floor by a swift kick from another of Amaranda’s clones.

“Gah!” she quickly started to get to her feet but paused as she looked at the circle of clones around her, each with different weapons drawn on her.

“Now, courtier.” Amaranda started. “You seem to currently be at a disadvantage. Let us try to be civilized about this this time, shall we?”

Orla gritted her teeth. “Just kill me then.”

“That would be the easy way out now, wouldn’t it?” Amaranda paused, focusing her mind on Orla. “But I can see that your conscious is conflicted.”

“The only conflict I have right now is ending you.” Orla snapped back at her.

“Why? For trying to retrieve the armor you stole?” An eldritch field appeared underneath Orla as the clones slowly started to disappear one by one until only Amaranda remained. She held the tip of her sword at Orla’s throat. “Now drop your weapon.”

Orla tried to pull herself away from the field, but it held fast. She glared menacingly at Amaranda, smiling slyly before dropping her blade to the floor. “Do what you will, dreamer.”

“Courtier, once you turn to nightmare, you can never return. It consumes you. But I can see that you…you have not yet truly fallen.”

“Nightmare allows us to be who we should be.” Orla rebuttled.

“Those are the words of the jungle dragon.” Amaranda stated. Orla’s narrowed her eyes. “By falling to nightmare, you throw away your freedom to give a lifetime of servitude to another. Is that what you want? To be a slave to someone else? To be told what to do for the rest of your existance?”

“You’re wasting your breath, dreamer.”

“Am I?” Amaranda looked at Orla, tilting her head slightly as she studied Orla’s connection to the Dream of Dreams.

“She pains for the loss of a loved one.” Amaranda thought, as she sifted through the ethereal memories of Orla’s mind. “A brother…fallen to Mordremoth.” A sudden billowing cloud of darkness caused Amaranda to snap back.

“Life is no different under Ventari’s tenants and the Pale Tree.” Orla snarled.

Amaranda stared at her. “Ventari’s tenants are but suggestions that we can choose to follow if we so wish. Did you forget that when you were a sapling?” Amaranda paused for a moment, drawing a deep breath. “Or…you can live your life away from Ventari and his tenants without falling to nightmare if you wish it.”

“By becoming a lowly soundless?” Orla snidely asked.

“If that is what it takes.” Amaranda paused. “Think about my sister, for example. She is neither a dreamer nor a courtier, and she lives happily with herself.”  Orla stared at Amaranda in silence, her thoughts twisting back and forth on Amaranda’s words. Amaranda could feel confusion creeping into Orla’s mind. She could feel nightmare trying to push, to take over the courtier, but also the dream pushing it back. A constant struggle. Orla looked down, watching the field that was keeping her pinned to the floor slowly fade, Amaranda’s sword still at her neck.

“A life of servitude, or a life of freedom? The choice is yours, courtier.” Amaranda slowly lowered her weapon.

“What about you, dreamer?” Orla glared at Amaranda.

“I choose to follow Ventari’s words.” Amaranda spoke softly. “But I don’t try to push those words on others if they do not wish it. If you wish to be truly free, you must cast aside nightmare, lest you become a puppet for a master.” Orla closed her eyes, thinking about what Cadryn, Faolain, and Nafiona had promised. A life away from the Pale Tree, a life of freedom, but…at what cost to herself? She looked at Amaranda.

“It won’t be easy.” Amaranda spoke, holding out her hand. “The first step is always the toughest.”

[brax-was-here]

Scarlet Briar: The Seeds of Life Chapter 11

Written by: Braxxus

Chapter 11: You Took My Life

Sometimes the weight is too much to bear

Ceara stood stunned at the glowing expanse that lay before her. The cave’s exit gave way to a vast open area filled with pooling leyline energy feeding from every direction. The very air resonated as the energy mists swirled chaotically before them.

“This…this is…” Liathlas stammered.

“Mordremoth’s lair.” Ceara finished her sentence. Her heart started to race as a feeling of anxiety started washing over her.

“Indeed, it is.” Malyck agreed, stepping to the edge of a rocky outcropping.

“This is where the ley energy converged.” Ceara muttered as she slowly brought her hand to her chest, feeling the scar. A constant reminder of what had happened to her.

“I believe that is our destination.” Malyck pointed out towards the remains of a gigantic tree on the far side of the field of energy.

“Have strength.” Ceara whispered to herself as she closed her eyes, trying to calm herself.

“I think I can port us over to it by using those floating rocks.” Liathlas pointed at a jagged piece of land floating above the pool of energy.

“How do we know it won’t fall when we land on it?” Malyck turned to her.

“Is there any other way? I think we would have to retrace out steps back into the jungle to find another way around this area.” Liathlas noted. “We would lose time if we did.”

“Noted.” Malyck responded. “Can your portals reach that far?”

“Well, let’s find out.” Liathlas conjured a portal in front of them. They could see the exit portal on the platform. “Let’s go.”

Stepping through, they found themselves on the floating rock.

“This rock is humming with energy.” Malyck noted. “I don’t think it’s actually part of the ground.”

“It isn’t.” Ceara knelt, running her hand over the surface. “It’s ley energy. Condensed so tightly that it solidified.”

“Energy in a solid form? Is that possible?” Malyck asked.

“Yes, it is.” Ceara picked up a small rock, inspecting it closely. It glistened in the light as she slowly rotated it in her fingers.  She grabbed another and put both of them in her satchel.

“What are you doing with those?” Liathlas asked.

“I’m taking them to study. It is not every day you find solidified ley energy. Who knows what secrets lay within these small rocks?” Ceara smiled at her. She drew a deep breath as she looked at the tree in the distance. “Let’s keep going.” Liathlas opened another portal that exited to the nearest platform. This one wasn’t as big as the trio looked at the curved edge of the floating mass.

“It looks like something took a bite out of it.” Liathlas remarked, looking at the jagged edge.

“It stands to reason that the dragon probably chewed on it at one time. The elder dragons feed on ley energy.” Ceara looked over the edge into the energy mists below. The field made it impossible to see to the bottom. “This was Mordremoth’s resting place.” She said solemnly.

“What do you mean?” Liathlas asked.

“This is where it slept, until I awoke it. This was all solid ground as he lay beneath the surface. His awakening caused the ground to erupt and the ley energy to pool into this pit, allowing him to feed.”

“So that tree… that tree was a marker in a way.” Malyck stepped up beside her.

“Yes.” She answered, staring at the gigantic trunk in the distance. “Let’s move on.” Liathlas opened the next portal and the trio passed through to the next platform.

“There is movement up there.” Malyck pointed at the upper portion of the tree trunk.

“It looks like a pact coptor.” Ceara replied narrowing her eyes.

“I guess the pact would be here as this is Mordremoth’s lair. The Priory is probably taking that tree apart to transport the whole thing back to Lornar’s Pass.” Liathlas joked. Ceara snorted at the thought.

“Sadly, you’re probably right.” She chuckled. She felt a little at ease knowing the Pact was here. “One more portal should put us there. Can you reach it?”

Liathlas stepped to the edge of the land mass. Taking a deep breath, she opened another portal. They watched as the exit materialized on the edge of the trunk.

“Go now!” she shouted. They leapt through quickly, exiting on the platform. Liathlas gasped as the portal faded behind her. “That’s the farthest distance I have ever portaled.” She looked at Ceara, who was frozen in place, a look of harsh terror on her face. Liathlas turned to see what had her so terrified.

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“More ruins.” Nafiona said out loud as her group reached a golden wall, tarnished and damaged by the awakening of the jungle dragon. “This matches the design of the city.”

“Built by the same beings. But if so…why so far away from the main city? Could it have been a secondary storage for whatever this supposed legacy is?” Ordhram asked.

“Perhaps we should explore inside? The seed may be there?” Caelan suggested.

“Indeed. Search for a way inside.” Nafiona commanded her followers. The courtiers dispersed around the ruins.

“M’Lady! Here!” It wasn’t long before one of the courtiers found an opening in the wall. Stepping through, they found a sizable complex similar in design to the golden city to the north, but no signs of life.

“It feels like death in here.” Caelan mentioned.

“Yes…it does.” Nafiona smiled. “Search through the ruins. Let us see what we find.”

The group spread out in various directions throughout the golden structure. Caelan wandered through a fallen archway that led to a courtyard overgrown with vegetation and thorned vines. He paused looking over the area.

“It must have been beautiful.” He thought. “And now it’s destroyed.” He stepped out into the courtyard, passing through the vegetation. He pushed one of the vines aside, snapping it off as part of it crumbled away from his touch.

“Destroyed.” He thought to himself. “Nafiona wants to destroy the Pale Tree and turn it to Nightmare. Scarlet wanted to awaken the jungle dragon to destroy Tyria. Both would allow the Sylvari to rule Tyria.” He picked up the broken vine that crumbled more in his hand. “Mordremoth would have enslaved us all.” He dropped the vine. “What would Nafiona do?” He felt a tinge of confusion wash over him, something pulling at his mind that he couldn’t grasp. He continued through the brush, reaching an open area that had been cleared of the jungle’s plants. An open archway in the far wall led out into the jungle.

“Someone or something has been here.” He thought to himself as he looked upon piles of brushed pushed aside. Unsheathing his sword, he cautiously made his way across to the archway. He paused before passing through the threshold, slowly passing the blade of his sword through. He held it out for a few moments before slowly stepping through the opening himself. He looked through the trees growing beyond the wall.

“Who is here?” He asked as he scanned around the jungle.

“Caelan.” A growling voice spoke from the trees.

Caelan’s heart jumped at the sound of the voice as he bounced backwards. “Uh…” he stammered. He could make out movement in the shadows of the vines. He turned his weapon to the approaching creature. “Mordrem…” he muttered as it entered into the view.

“Caelan.” It muttered again as it paused its advance.

“Who are you?” Caelan asked it. The mordrem looked down, pondering for a moment. Before raising its eyes to him.

“Be responsible for your own happiness, for then the dreams of your heart will truly open.” Its gruff voice spoke softly.

“Talmai?” Caelan gasped, recognizing the quote the mordrem spoke. “Talmai, what happened?”

“It took control of us, Caelan. We couldn’t resist. It made us attack anyone that wasn’t one of us.” It growled, grimacing as it held its forehead. “It’s so difficult to think.”

Caelan lowered his sword and cautiously approached the creature. It looked up at him. “Why did you leave us?” It asked. “You left us for nightmare.”

Caelan paused. “It called to me.” He answered, looking at the ground.

“Just as Mordremoth called to us.” It stepped forward towards Caelan, who in turn looked up at the mordrem, stepping back away from it. It paused again, holding its head.

“There’s mordrem here!” Caelan heard a voice shout in the distance as the sounds of battle could be heard.

“Talmai! Hang on. I can…I can get you through this. Back to the gr…” Caelan paused, realizing what he was about to say.

“RAAAAH!” the modrem growled as it charged him.

“Talmai! No!” Caelan dodged out of the way. “Stop!”

“You belong with us, Caelan. We all belong here.” It growled as it swiped at the sylvari, its long claws scratching his armor.

“Talmai, stop this!” He pleaded with the creature as it attacked him relentlessly.

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“Destroy them all!” Nafiona shouted as she blasted a mordrem in its face with dark energy. The creature screamed in pain as it grasped at its eyes. She clasped her hand in the air in front of her, summoning dark tendrils from the ground that ensnared the creature. Ordhram proceeded to decapitate it, its body slumping to the ground as the shadowy tendrils dissipated. Nafiona waved her sceptor over the corpse, causing it to erupt in a fountain of blood and flesh, bring forth a nightmarish creature.

“Time to eat, my fleshling.” She quipped playfully. The creature quickly ran towards the nearest mordrem and attacked, jumping on its back and sinking its jagged teeth into the shoulder of its target.

“Ordhram, we must be close.” She smiled as she conjured a cloud of locusts that swarmed another of the attacking mordrem. It wildly flailed as it tried to fend off the black swarm that engulfed it. A pair of Nafiona’s coutiers unleashed their clones on the creature as it was distracted, quickly dispatching it. Nafiona again quickly waved her sceptor over the body, bringing forth another horror from within.

“Feed.” She commanded it. It leapt off to the nearest mordrem.

“M’lady. The sword is ready.” Ordhram paused a moment, a far off stare upon his face.

“Oh! Excellent!” she quipped. “We should make haste then finishing off these creatures. Our destiny awaits!”

“Of course, m’lady.” He responded.

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“Talmai! Stop this nonsense!” Caelan cried as the mordrem grabbed him, tossing him to the ground.

“You belong with us, Caelan. This is what we are meant to be.” It grabbed the sylvari by his throat.

“No.” he coughed. “It’s not!” He swung his sword between them, slicing off the mordrem’s arm. The creature howled in pain, grasping its stump. It roared as it leapt at him. Caelan forced his sword forward with all his strength, running it through the mordrem’s midsection. The creature crashed into him, its momentum carrying them both to the ground. Caelan heard his blade snap as they fell. He felt the broken end of the sword pierce into his own armor as the mordrem laid on top of him. He slowly pushed the creature off to the side and looked down at his wound.

“I’m…sorry…” he heard the mordrem speak slowly. He looked to see the glow from its eyes fade away as it exhaled its last breath. Caelan covered his wound with his hand as he slowly got to his feet. A tear slowly ran down his cheek as he stared at the fallen mordrem.

“We were going to be scholars together.” He whispered. “Learning everything we could. Then nightmare called.” He paused looking at the blood on his hand. “Maybe it’s not too late.”

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“I am your creator.”

“But I was born of the pale tree…”

“And the pale tree was born of me. Come, young one. Let me show you.”

“My name isn’t Ceara…It is…Scarlet Briar…”

“A giant spore plant…”

“I’m in your mind.”

“A marionette housing a fantastic weapon…”

“You're so cute when you're on the offensive.”

“It’s go time.”

“You think my death saves you? Too late.”

“I am forever!”

“Return to me…”

“You were my champion. My chosen one. Now you betray me as your mother betrayed me.”

“You will perish.”

“Mother…I’m broken!”

Ceara could feel her world cracking as she struggled with what lay before her. She gazed upon the visage of her tormentor, the elder jungle dragon Mordremoth, whose snake-like body lay entangled in the giant spires of the ancient tree.

“No…” she was gasping for air as her chest tightened like Mordremoth’s maw was closing around her heart. “No…make it stop…MAKE IT STOP!” She screamed as she slowly backpeddled away from the elder dragon.

“Ceara!” Lialthlas grabbed her before she stepped off the edge of the platform into the abyss.

“No…NO! LET ME GO!” Ceara screamed. She shoved Liathlas to the ground.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Ceara shrieked as loudly as she could. Unslinging her rifle, she fired every round she had into the silent unmoving dragon until she was out of ammunition. She screamed again as she slung the rifle at the beast, stumbling to the ground.

“YOU TOOK MY LIFE!” she screamed. Liathlas and Malyck both knelt beside her.

“What’s going on over there?” a pact member nearby inquired about the three sylvari that arrived moments before.

“The tormented...brought forth in front of that which tormented her.” A sylvari spoke softly nearby.

“You mean thats…?”

“Scarlet Briar.”

“But isn’t she dead?”

“No.”

“Shouldn’t we be doing something about her?”

“I think she has suffered long enough under the sway of Mordremoth.”

“But she’s a criminal. A terrorist. We need to report this!”

The sylvari turned to him. “Were we terrorists as well when we fell under the dragon’s call?”

The pact member fell silent for a moment pondering the sylvari’s words. He slowly looked up at the trio.

Liathlas gently put her arms around Ceara, who was crying hysterically. Malyck stood and retrieved her rifle.

“It made me do those things…hurt those people…” Ceara cried. “I just wanted to learn.”

“I know.” Liathlas whispered.

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Orla sat across from Amaranda at her low table. “Nightmare calls…” Orla muttered as she closed her eyes, her brow knitting together. “Ordhram…” she whispered.

“What happened?” Amaranda asked quietly.

“He fell…he fell to the dragon.” A tear slowly rolled down Orla’s cheek. “My brother…he started to change.” She gasped.

“Change? How?” Amaranda rubbed her chin thoughtfully as Orla spoke.

“He started becoming…one of them…the mordrem. He grew in size and strength…his skin became like…almost like armor.” Orla shook her head. “It’s so hard to focus.”

“She is struggling to fight off Nightmare’s influence.” Amaranda thought to herself. Orla’s slowly opened her eyes.

“I felt…anger…anger towards the pale tree for keeping the secret from us.” She looked at Amaranda. “I can never forgive her for what she allowed to happen to Ordhram. He is just a shadow of his former self now.”

“You sought revenge.” Amaranda stated softly.

“I did.” Orla replied sternly. “Maybe Nafiona’s way is not the correct way, but I cannot follow the Pale Tree.”

“I understand. You have every right to make your own choices in your life.” Amaranda spoke softly. “It will not be easy. What lies ahead…” Amaranda’s voice trailed off as she quickly turned her gaze away from Orla, focusing on the wilderness outside.

Orla looked at her inquisitively, her brow furrowing slightly. “What is it?”

“Ceara…” Amaranda stood at walked to the door, looking to the southwest.

“Ceara?”

“She’s in great pain.” Amaranda turned to Orla.

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Ceara felt a hand gently touch her forehead. Her eyes stung from the tears as she slowly opened them. She looked up to see the vision of the young pale tree before her. It smiled warmly.

“You carry so much pain within you.” It spoke softly.

Ceara closed her eyes, lowering her head. “It hurts so much.” Her voice raspy through the tears. “I’m so…so sorry.”

“The vision knelt before her, placing her glowing hands on Ceara’s shoulders. Ceara looked up at its smiling face. She felt a small warmth envelope her.

“Have strength.” It spoke. “You are destined for greater things.”

Ceara looked at it. “Who are you?” she asked, trying to choke back the tears.

The vision smiled warmly at her. “To the south.” It spoke softly before fading away.

Ceara’s vision cleared to see the face of Mordremoth laying in the spires before her, a giant spike through its head. “You’re dead.” She muttered as she stared at it. “You can’t hurt me anymore.” She whispered.

“No, it can’t” Liathlas spoke softly before slowly releasing her embrace. She looked at Ceara in the eyes. “Are you ok?”

Ceara slightly nodded her head. “I will be. I have to be.” She snifled slightly. “I’m sorry. That was…that was very unbecoming of me.” Malyck held out his hand and helped her to her feet before returning her rifle.

“I wasted all my ammunition.” She said looking at the weapon.

“You still have your pistol.” He spoke.

“Yeah. But it only has a couple shots left in it.”

“Will these work?” Malyck produced a few bullets from a small pouch.

“No, my pistol has been modified. It takes special ammunition.” She replied.

“Are we…are we continuing?” Liathlas asked.

Ceara turned to her. “Yes. What we look for what lies to the south.”

“To the south?” Malyck asked. He looked around the area, focusing back across the expanse of ley energy. “We’re going to have to backtrack a bit to find a path.”

“There is another.” Two pact members approached them. “There is a cave system under this area. Some of our members have explored down there. It will lead you to the jungle south of here. But be warned. That land has not been explored, that we know of anyway.”

“Thanks for the warning.” Ceara said, slinging her rifle over her shoulder. “How do we get there?”

“Um…well.” The human started before taking a deep breath. “You have to climb…” He turned his gaze to the remains of the dragon.

“We climb him?” Ceara asked, somewhat perturbed.

“Well, not on him. We have scaffolding set up over him to reach the inside of the tree. You have to travel down the inside into the roots.”

“Huh.” Ceara pondered a moment.

“If it saves us time.” Malyck stated. “We should get started.”

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Nafiona could smell the sea as they neared the end of the jungle path. She looked up the makeshift archway forged of twisted vines producing a nightmarish gateway to the beach ahead.

“Seems rather ominous, don’t you think?” she asked her subordinate.

“It’s as if someone is welcoming us.” Ordhram replied to her.

“Perhaps the dragon was anticipating our little journey to find the prize.” She laughed. “But still, we cannot let our guard down. We are deep in the dragon’s domain here.”

“I’m surprised we haven’t run into more of the mordrem here after our episode in the ruins.”

“I’m sure our dear Pact has been busy exterminating them. They do seem to like to kill dragons and their minions, don’t they?”

“Indeed, m’lady.”

“They even killed their own Marshal. Poor Trahearne. Fallen to the dragon.” She mused.

The path emptied out to a beach at the edge of the sea. Nafiona looked out over the water. Small waves crashed against the shore, provoking a feeling of calmness, a stark contradiction to the vine covered chaos of the jungle. Nafiona breathed the salty air.

“Strange is it not? Such peacefulness here in the jungle dragon’s world. Listen to the silence.” She spoke to her courtiers. “But let’s not waste time. We need to find out where the seed is. Oonagh, Sila. Port up to those ridges and see if you can find our path from here.

“Yes, m’lady.” The mesmers said in unison, bowing to Nafiona. They both teleported away, each to a ridge above the beach. It was only moments before they both returned.

“Back already?” Nafiona asking, somewhat shocked.

“M’lady. We believe we have found where our quarry lies.”

“Oh!?” Nafiona’s eyes widened. “Where is it?”

One of the mesmers opened a portal and stepped through. Nafiona followed. She appeared on a ridge. “There, m’lady.”

Nafiona stood in silence as she gazed into the distance, staring at the cloud of energy that swirled around the remains of the gigantic tree in the distance. She smiled widely. “Our prize is there!” she laughed. “Come! We must be off!” The mesmer ported them back to the beach.

“Our prize is near!” Nafiona announced to the group, pointing to the east, motioning for them to start travelling. “Soon, the world will be within our grasp.” She snarled to herself.

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

The trio followed the pact member as they climbed the scaffolding around the fallen dragon. At the top was a bridge that allowed them to cross over into the inside of the enormous tree. They peered over the edge, viewing the hollow trunk that housed a spire twisted into the shape of a thorned helix. On the far side they could see a small pact camp set up on a ledge.

“What’s over there?” Liathlas asked inquisitively.

“There? Just a small priory set up. That’s where that leader of the Nightmare Court was killed.”

“Faolain?” Liathlas inquired.

“Yep. She apparently had turned into some kind of monster and attacked the Commander.” They reached the top of the helix. “Well, to reach the roots-“

“We travel down this spire.” Ceara finished the sentence as she looked into the murky depths below.

“Indeed. Good journey and be careful.” The member said to them.

“This…this is unsettling.” Liathlas said.

“No kidding.” Ceara replied. “I don’t like being here.”

“Oh, well…yes, but I was talking at how this thing is swaying. I feel as if it could collapse at any moment.” The proceeding to make their way down the slowly rotating spiral.

“This is almost dizzying.” Malyck fretted as they descended. Nearing the bottom, they came across another small pact camp that was sparcely populated. As they reached the roots of the great tree, the ambient light dimmed, and the air cooled considerably. Ceara instinctively reached for her small lamp in her satchel, only to remember she didn’t have it.

“Thorns.” She muttered.

“Is everything ok?” Liathlas asked.

“It’s a pain not having any of my gear. If I ever find out who took it, they’re dead. No questions asked.” They entered the caves beneath the roots. Torches were lit along the walls as opened crates were stacked in the corridors.

“Seems the priory is busy down here as well.” Ceara mentioned.

“Do they research everything they find?” Malyck asked.

“The inquisitive mind is a great asset…but sometimes, it could be very detrimental to oneself.” Ceara said solemnly.

“What’s over there?” Liathlas asked, pointing down another corridor that led to a well-lit area. “It seems open to the sky.”

“Let’s check it.” Ceara nodded. The group entered into the opening. Looking to the sky, they could see the swirling cloud of ley energy far above. A few priory crates lay stacked along the wall. The pathway was short as they reached a deadend. Ceara noted large burn marks along the walls and ground, centering on a focal point in front of them. A wave of sadness passed over her for she knew what happened here.

“Something exploded here.” Malyck said as he ran his fingers over a section of burned vine.

“Not something…” Ceara looked at the epicenter of the blast. She swallowed as she breathed deep. “Someone.”

“What do you mean?” Liathlas asked. Ceara knelt, slowly placing her hand on the remains of a vine.

“Trahearne.”

“You mean…this is…” Liathlas gasped as she covered her mouth with her hand, her heart in her throat. A tear formed in her eye and slowly ran down her face.

“My friend.” Malyck whispered as he knelt to the ground.

“I’m so sorry.” Ceara whispered as a tear rolled down her cheek. “It shouldn’t have been this way.” Ceara thought back to the scholar she had met in her days as a sapling. While she thought his study of Orr was ridiculous, she admired his dedication to learning, to the art of studying. She remembered receiving a letter from him congratulating her for being admitted to the colleges of Rata Sum. “You cared. Even though I did not, yet you still showed compassion.” She spoke softly.

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“It seems our only path forward is through that cave in the ridge.” Nafiona told her courtiers. She turned and looked at the rock wall in front of them.

“What about the dolyaks, m’lady. I don’t think they will be able to travel through there.” One of the courtiers asked.

“Pull what supplies you need from them.” The courtiers grabbed supplies from the pack creatures. Nafiona drew her dagger and moved it in front of her. The dolyaks let out a cry as they both dropped lifelessly to the ground.

“Problem solved” she spoke.

“You’ve been awfully quiet, Caelan.” One of the mesmers asked him. “Something troubling you?”

“Sila, when we were at the ruins. One of the mordrem. I knew who it was.”

“Oh?”

“It was Talmai. We met each other in the dream. After we were born, we agreed to become scholars together.”

“That sounds quite boring.” She refuted. “I think you chose the better path, Caelan.”

He glanced over at her for a moment before looking back towards the cave. “Maybe.”

“Are you questioning Nightmare?” She looked at him with a piercing gaze.

“No…no I’m not.” He stammered.

Sila looked at him, her eyes narrowed. “Caelan, did you truly choose nightmare over the dreamers?”

Caelan returned her look. “I made my choice. “

She slowly smiled. “Oh, you’re so serious, Caelan!” She laughed. He was taken aback by her sudden outburst.

“Well…yeah…” he forced a laugh.

“Just think, Caelan!” she put her hand on his shoulder. “All this! This will be ours! And over there!? That’s where I’m going to build a home! Overlooking the sea!”

“That…that sounds nice, Sila. But why here in the jungle?”

“Because this is a source of magic. Right there!” she pointed to the swirling cloud above them.

“Isn’t that dangerous?” He questioned.

“Not at all. I’ll be able to harness part of that and use it to better my skills.” She clenched her fist in front of her and looked at him with a playfully sinister smile.

He smiled and laughed a little bit at her silliness.

[likemesomesalads]

Bleed, molten, and nightmare from the one word prompts?

Tw: blood, tw: gore, tw: body horror, tw: self-harm

Bleed:It took a few minutes for the beeping sound to stop and for his vision to come back, but as Thoernen got more and more to his senses he felt his left arm way too heavy. He looks down and panic rushed through him. He was hit and his arms started to grow branded crystals. He has been branded.He tried to calm down as much as it was possible at this situation. Looked around for some solution. Only saw more brand, no one else around. The crystals grew still, almost taking over his whole forearm. He had to cut it off. He had to amputate his arm. Easier said than done. The Commander looked for his weapon. It was broken, but then remembered the small backup dagger he kept with himself. Took it out and placed it in front of him until he got out the belt of his trousers and tightly secured it around the middle of his upper arm, where he intended to cut his arm. Picked up the knife again, took a deep breath and started to cut in his flesh. It wasn’t good enough, too slow. He started to saw with the dagger in hopes it will go faster. His blood splattering everywhere, in his face, on his body and clothes. He couldn’t see clearly from it and it mixed with the tears flowing down his cheeks. It hurt so much. He wasn’t sure what was more painful, the branding spreading or him mangling down his own arm. His screams echoed between the crystals. At least someone will find him this way. After what he felt like an eternity of suffering, the branded arm fell to the ground, leaving a bleeding, messy Commander wailing in his own blood in agony.

Molten:Lily loved swords, daggers, axes…Anything that was sharp, really. She had a few collected already in her few days since she is awakened. mostly used ones, that the others gave her upon asking, or rather nagging them.  Noticing her enthusiasm in weapons one of the Mentors advised her to visit Occam, the smith. He surely could help her learn about weapons and armors, maybe ever take her as an apprentice if she is interested.So she went to his workshop. Occam agreed to show Saberlily how a sword was made from old weapons and metal pieces. The sapling watched with horror as he put the unused, old and cleared weapons into the melter and started bawling.“Why do you destroy them? They will meeeeeeeelt!” She cried. The smith had no idea how to deal with the crying sapling so he tried to explain to her that it will be a new better weapon, showing her the form to which the melted metal will go. As they processed with making the sword, Occam explained everything to her and walked her through the process of making a sword, since that seemed to be her favorite. In the end, Lily was happy to see the new, better weapon made from the old ones.

Nightmare:Dau sat outside on the stairs of the place they stayed in for the night. It was a chilly one which came in handy to calm his nerves. He preferred to feel the cold ever since he left the jungle. The warmth made him remember those times. He often had nightmares of it still and probably will have forever. Like now. The Commander was still asleep at least when he left the room, his stirring didn’t wake him. Maybe he got used to it. The ex-mordrem took a deep breath of the fresh air and looked up at the starry sky. It was much more visible here than in the Caledon Forest or in the jungle. He loved this view. Suddenly he felt arms wrap around him and turned around with fear in his eyes.“Sorry. I didn’t mean to spook you…Nightmares again?”  Thoernen asked hugging him and resting his head on his shoulder. Dau nodded and sighed deeply.

“I didn’t want to wake you.”

“You didn’t. I just noticed you were gone…But you know you can wake me if you need something.” The Commander looked worried at his lover, kissing his neck softly.

“I do…But I only needed some air.” Dau looked back up at the sky. “I’m afraid…What if I turn mordrem again? What if I hurt you?…What if he isn’t really gone Thoernen?”

Thoernen let go of the hug to cup the other sylvari’s face and turned it to look in his eyes. “He is gone, Dau. He won’t come back. Trahearne gave his life to ensure that. You are safe. You are not a monster. You won’t turn against us or harm anyone. I know it. Mordremoth’s gone. You are free.”

Almost every night Thoernen told these words to him. And foolish it may be, he needed him to say it. To make sure he is indeed free of Mordremoth. To make sure he isn’t a monster.