#all charr thoughts though

[havoc-warband]

long-winded character post ahead >:) three charr, all originals of the havoc warband, very much in the process of being designed and fleshed out. very much taking ideas for what to do with them even if they clash with what i wrote here

made an engi called Sivris Crankhavoc a few days ago! so excited to level her up, get more of a feel for her personality, and Commit Fashion Wars 2 sins while grinding to 80, as per usual

i’ve hinted at it some times before but i want her to be the kind of like. distracted tech person of the ‘band, like

On the far left of the scene, there’s some poor quartermaster with their back against the wall and an arrow at their throat, held there by Vikaros, who got bored of reasoning with them about dinner that night, and who’s only barely being held back by Tavryn (the guardian who i haven’t mentioned on here yet i now realize), this scene being witnessed by Yurmia who’s standing a few tail-lengths away gnawing on a roasted pocket raptor with a twinkle in her eye and a guffaw in her throat, the poor soldier who she stole her current snack from limping away hastily, and finally behind her there’s Sivris looking on slightly distracted, a half-assembled pistol still in her hands

She’s friendly, will share her snacks with you, gets distracted easily by shiny things, enjoys teaching friends about the stuff she’s passionate about but guards her own secrets and tech jealously, loves putting stuff together... Bandmates say the sound of her thoughts flying through her brain sounds like the clicking of gears. “Putting stuff together” also applies to bandmates after a slightly-more-heated-than-usual argument

She’s got good tactical thinking, going into the future the way that Vikaros’ doesn’t: he concerns himself with the daily things, and gets her advice on long-term plans and moves, along with Yurmia’s wisdom

When the warband was being formed and they were choosing their names, Sivris was actually solidly conked out/loopy like a skritt on fermented fruit after receiving a wrench to the head while rooting through piles of equipment at the junkyard, which is why her bandmates chose this name for her

I’m gonna use this same post for Tavryn actually and also the elementalist I’m still working on to complete the picture

the guardian tavryn havocshield! name and design loosely based on a guardian i had a long time ago, that i have since deleted in favour of a character, that i newly deleted in favour of remaking Tavryn.

she’s the conscience of the warband, Lawful Good-wise, and has a protective streak a mile wide as her last name also implies. She trains a lot to be able to take a ton of damage and protect her ‘bandmates so they can do their best work. She’s known Vikaros and most of the rest of the band since the fahrar, so she’s seen them all at their worst, and no rank will come between tavryn and her scolding you for snatching that piece of equipment while the original owner wasn’t looking, give it the fuck back we’re gonna get in trouble. the only bandmate she’s slightly afraid of is Yurmia, because she’s Old, and that triggers the Hierarchy Following in tavryn’s brain, so she does defer to the mesmer a little. only a little.

ele time. so, i’ve got this char, who’s already level 60, and 425 artificer. i’m sincerely debating just getting them a namechange and a total makeover kit because that was Effort, You Guys, and also they’re one of my oldest characters... and still level 60 i know don’t look at me

reason for the namechange is because their current name is... unsuitable. i was really fucking bad at naming characters like eight years ago and it’s gotten a Little Better since then. but god.

the longer i’m thinking about the makeover kit though, the more i’m like. nah, this is actually a fantastic character design... i may have not known how names worked but i had the design down

so, i have absolutely no idea what their role’s going to be in lore yet, but i want something like... so, coming back to the scene i sketched, i want the elementalist to be... napping somewhere else. the scene’s complete. the elementalist is quiet. aloof. shuts up a lot of time but when they do speak up it’s Insightful, Meaningful, or the absolute peak of comedy, no in betweens. they also pack a huge fucking punch in a fight and their fighting is big and showy and extravagant, and with reason. they cast fireballs left right and center and the sparkle in their eye at the sheer power they just unleashed onto their enemies is enough to set off another explosion somewhere else. very much “point me at the enemies and i’m happy”

you made it this far? congratulations, have Vikaros’ Pride fit >:) (that did totally not take me a half fucking hour)

#havoc warband #many many many thoughts #all charr thoughts though #charr #gw2

[achromant]

okay. more thoughts about charr headphones.

you can definetely split an audio channel into high/low frequencies. either side has two speakers that sit roughly atop the upper/lower ear pair.

there's gotta be SO many audio shenanigans you can do with double stereo sound.

headphones would be made from steel rather than plastic, needs to be sturdy. the cushioning is leather instead of textile, easier to clean, and doesnt chafe at the sensitive charr ears. Also needs neon inlays of green jade. they dont do anything technically, but they look design-y.

headband wraps around the neck, rather than sit atop the head. theyre usually dont slip down, as the band is really lightweight. some have a small chain that are clipped onto the horns for safety. theres probably been prototypes that clip directly on the horns or work like kind of a clasp, but since charr horns are so diverse, this one works better. also uses a similar shape to human versions, so great for production.

initial prototype was made by Chul-Moo, after the commander mentioning the lack of comfortable ear wear to listen to music to with. Baruhn may or may not have tricked Chul-Moo into inventing them by mentioning that Joon was working on a similar project.

Joon did come up with her own version of these. the only difference is that her prototype has RGB lights and comes in designer-white.

the headphones work wireless, and use a jade bot to recharge. because of the void corruption in some jade samples, the headphones may or may not play raspy voices whispering of the impending end of the world and darkness that swallows all of creation. charr dont mind though, and sometimes actively look for corrupted headphones. sounds like ASMR to them.

#gw2 #guild wars 2 #charr #furry

[antariies]

Late Winter in Divinity's Reach

Summary: Winter and Urlae are invited to celebrate the Lunar New Year's festival in Divinity's Reach.

Characters: Winterlayt, Urlae Summer, Lily Summer, Verdanzy

Notes: Winter's POV (2nd person); fluff; 1.2k words; this is my 2024 secret santa red envelope gift for @ruderubicante! happy new year!

—

The charr have this theory about humans, that they insist on being so noisy all the time to make up for their dull sense of hearing. You’re inclined to believe it. You’ve only just arrived in the Crown Pavilion and the cacophony of firecrackers and joyous shrieks bombards you from every angle, unrelenting. This was a bad idea.

“This was a bad idea,” Urlae remarks, echoing your thoughts. “We should leave.”

Well, now you obviously can’t leave. That would be letting him win.

“You can leave, if you’d like,” you offer, perfectly cordial. You even give him this sort of sympathetic look you’ve been practicing.

Urlae sees right through it. “You can drop the holier-than-thou act. I know you hate this racket just as much as I do.”

Your reply is as pleasant as spun sugar and just as substantial. “Hm? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” A gaggle of human teenagers rush by, and for some reason, every single one of them feels the need to knock their bony elbows into your legs as they pass like you’re some Dragon Bash piñata. “Ow,” you intone with the same lofty cadence.

Urlae crosses his arms, unimpressed. “Winter, I can see your eye twitching.”

“You should get yours checked then, Doctor.”

“You’re acting like a huge prick right now.”

“And is that your personal or professional opinion—”

“Dad! You made it!” A new voice interrupts your bickering. Urlae turns faster than you, eyes scanning in the direction of the familiar shout until he spots a young charr squeezing her way out of a sea of humans. The tension bleeds from his shoulders as his daughter makes her way over to the pair of you.

“Oh,” he murmurs, a fond smile stretching across his face, “Lily, you look stunning.”

That, at least, you can agree on. Her hanbok is gorgeous in its simplicity, consisting of a pale green chima, an even paler yellow jeogori, and as she gets closer, you spy little white flowers embroidered on the goreum. Combined with her soft, well-brushed fur, she looks like the last frost before spring, in spite of her namesake.

Speaking of spring. Verdanzy is next out of the crowd, the blue-and-orange ribbons of their hanfu fluttering wildly behind them in their hurry. Their beizi is light and delicate, long sleeves billowing around their body like a cloud.

“Hi, Uncle! Hi, Dad!” they cry, and now it’s your turn to smile. Which, to everyone else, looks like an infinitesimal uptick of the corner of your mouth. It seems like a hassle for them, having to constantly dodge lanterns and paper dragons and the occasional stray sparkler because of their height, but when they skid to a halt in front of you, it’s clear that nothing short of an apocalypse could ruin this day for them.

“Wow, Uncle,” they start, breathless, “you look great!”

Pleased, Urlae gives them a short bow. He’s wearing an áo dài himself, a long-sleeved peach-colored tunic embroidered with matching blossoms over black trousers. The whole ensemble is made of silk, and the reflection of the warm lantern lights in the fabric creates an illusion of luminescence.

“Thank you, Verdanzy. I’m glad at least you two understand the importance of dressing well,” he says, shooting you a sidelong glance.

You look down at your extra lumpy sweater. It’s a thing of beauty—in your humble and unbiased opinion—made of eye-catching (though some would say eye-searing) red and yellow wool. “I’m told these are the traditional colors. Very auspicious.”

“But not traditional dress,” Urlae says, picking at a loose bit of yarn on your shoulder. You slap his hand away.

“When did you get here? Have you eaten? Just in case you haven’t, we got something for you!” Lily manages all in one breath. “Here!”

She shoves a paper carton under your noses. Yours, literal, and Urlae’s, figurative. The gentle reminder that you two can’t eat regular food dies on your tongue when you open the container.

“...Is it human custom to eat raw meat during this festival?” you ask instead, staring down at the chilled pile of—you sniff the meat—uncooked pork.

“Nope!” Verdanzy chimes in, “We just asked if we could have some of the, uh, what’s it called?”

“Bánh chưng,” Lily provides helpfully.

“That. We asked for some of the filling before they cooked it. They didn’t even charge us.”

“You’re kind to think of us,” you say, taking the small wooden skewer that Verdanzy holds out to you. The raw pork strips are soft and marbled with fat, yielding under your teeth with surprising ease. Seasoned well with salt and pepper, but unlikely to make you sick later. It’s not bad. Urlae gives you a knowing look as he chews slowly on his own meat skewer. It’s rare the two of you get the opportunity to actually enjoy the food you eat.

“Have you two been enjoying the festival?” Urlae asks after swallowing. 

“Yeah!” Verdanzy nods fervently. “We’ve been having lots of fun at the game tables. I think one of the dealers is using loaded dice, though. I lost a handful of silver there.”

You reach for your gun.

“Dad.”

“That was humor,” you clarify, holstering your pistol. What, did they think you were actually going to shoot someone for your kid? …Hm. Unconvincing even in your own thoughts.

“I liked your joke, Uncle Winter,” Lily reassures. “And you two are just in time for the lion dancers! They’re about to start, c’mon!”

You and Urlae are unceremoniously dragged through a throng of people and all the way to the front of the crowd. Some people glare up at Verdanzy, who can’t help their height, but quickly find other places to look after catching a glimpse of your glower. A crash of cymbals and rhythmic drumming pierces the air, and cheers erupt as costumed dancers bound into the middle of the circle.

They don’t look like any lions you’ve ever seen, but what do you know? Perhaps Canthan lions are much more friendly and colorful than their Elonian counterparts. Admittedly, they’re growing on you. The puppetry is impressive, and for most of the performance you even forget that it’s two human dancers under there, and not one giant, fuzzy beast.

A little ways to your right, Lily urges a reluctant Urlae to offer a cabbage to the lion. “Quick, Dad, he’s coming back around, hold it out! He’s not going to eat it if he can’t see it—”

The lion considers the offering for just long enough that you can see Urlae’s patience wearing thin, then takes the whole head of cabbage into its mouth, making a show of chewing the vegetable with great vigor. Abruptly, it stands up on its hind legs, opens its mouth—

“This is my favorite part,” Verdanzy whispers.

—and begins spitting cabbage leaves back into the crowd. Before you can move out of the way, Verdanzy holds their arm up above your head, protecting you from being pelted by the chewed-up cabbage. To your endless amusement, Urlae is not so lucky. As soon as he peels a cold, wet leaf off his face, he’s immediately hit with another one. And another one.

“It’s supposed to bring good fortune, apparently,” Verdanzy explains, grinning. They look down at you, eyes bright with unrestrained mirth. You would give the world for them to be this carefree all the time.

“Is that so?” you say instead of voicing that thought, “I suppose I am feeling rather fortunate right now.”

“Yeah? That’s good. Happy New Year’s, Dad.”

“Happy New Year’s.”

#gw2 #guild wars 2 #our server had too much goin on in december so we turned out secret santa into secret red envelopes for the new year instead! #my writing #ruderubicante

[fregion-bond-breaker]

Fregions bones ached, his muscles sore. It had come for him slowly, so slowly he hadnt even noticed it. He was already long in the tooth by a large mark compared to most charr. He thought, maybe that meant he'd just keep on going like this forever. But one morning in a borrowed bed visiting Kas and jory, he felt it. This ache, this weakness. He was so tired… Kas had been the first to find him. He'd tried to get out of bed but he just couldnt muster the strength.

The heavy thump of his body hitting the floor must have drawn her attention up there. She had gasped, and he had laughed, weak and raspy, as she tried to help him up without looking at his naked form. Even now as he drew closer to the end…he was still embarrassing her. He was glad that never changed…she was fun to tease. She had asked if he was ill, running a fever. But no, he had shook his head and smiled sadly at her.

"Im dying…" He had said in a low voice. "I think my times up." She had panicked. Clones jumping every which way as they ran to likely contact a doctor, send letters to their friends and who knows what else. He remembered her shaky hands on his forehead as she scolded him for joking like that. But she knew he was telling the truth…

As the days drew on and his strength failed him. He cursed the world. What an ignoble end for the legendary Charr Commander. Hero of Tyria. To die peacfuly in bed. Not on the field of battle, not with a sword in his hand. But in bed, with his friends worrying over him.

Braham and Rox were surprisingly the first to come see him on his death bed. They walked in, hand in hand and he had to stop himself from laughing himself in to a coughing fit. Leave it to the young to wait till your dying to figure themselves out. Rox spoke about Olmican spirituality, about not needing to be afraid. He corrected her of course. It wasnt fear he felt after all, just disappointment it wasn't fighting. Braham joked that he could grab his mace, and send him to the mists, but before he could take the norn up on the offer Rox punched him in the shoulder with a disapproving look. He thanked them, for their visit, and wished them well in their new life. Peace lets one think on these sorts of things he supposed.

The next to visit him was Anise and Livia of all people.

"Even if we forced your hand…you were still a blade member. And an invaluable ally to Kryta, Commander." Anise said.

"Could always reanimate you if you want. Maybe let you touch the scepter of orr so you can keep on going?" She had a sad look on her face. "This is the second time I've watched you go, big guy. Wonder what you'll come back as next time?" She chuckled. "Maybe one of those bears in the north?"

Anise chuckled behind her hand. "Or a Tengu? You were always oddly beautiful for a charr." Fregion smiled. He was glad they could joke with him like that.

Crecia, Logan and Rytlock came next.

"Commander…" Logan spoke first. "It has been, an honor working with you. I also took your advice with Rytlock, and Crecias." He wrapped his hand around the charrs waist and pulled him in close. Rytlock blushed but did not fight, simply nuzzled the human affectionately.

"Its a shame we aren't out fighting something Commander…no charr wants to go so sweetly." He nodded. "Though I suppose, after killing Gods, Dragons, Demons and a slew of other horrors, I think that more then makes up for it."

Crecia stepped forward, hesitant. "I know we… and the legions…have had a rocky relationship. But I speak for all charr, thank you commander. Without you, the charr may just be icy thralls under Jormag, or worse. There may not have been any charr left at all." She placed a blood legion flag, folded neatly, on his bed. "For the legions…soldier." She and Rytlock both saluted.

Zojja came down from her large tower with a letter in hand from the Astral ward as well. Though she wasnt alone he was sure. He felt the familiar whispers and carssing of Peitha in his mind.

"Wayfi- I mean…Commander." After a moment looking forlornly at the ground she whispered. "…Fregion." She placed the letter on the bed side stand. "Considering what uh, what we know about me…and our previous history. I thought I should come see you off. I- I didnt think I'd feel this awful though." She sniffled and sent a watery smile his way. "I'm going to live a long time, ya know. The Astral ward wanted to ascend you but, given how volitile and poorly your relationship with them was, i figured id tell them no in your stead." He couldnt help but laugh at that, though it took him some time to stop coughing after.

"Mortal…you have been most amusing, I could bring you in to my fold. It would be a shame to lose someone like you…" She knew the answer, and her voice, normally low and composed, had a hint of desperation to it. "But I know the answer. Maybe we'll stumble in to each other in the mists. May your journey be gentle and easy." Zojja choked out a sob. He reached a trembling claw to her face, wiping a way the tears. He smiled. He was glad his friend was on the road to being better now too. She gripped his hand tightly, soft whimpers and sobs escaping her as she clung to him. He pretended to not hear the whispers of 'dont go' and 'please dont leave me alone again…'

On his final day…he knew it was time. He told Marjory and Kasmeer as much. They sat with him through out the day. Helped him out to the plaza of Kormir. The moon was high and the stars were shining. As if the universe itself was winking sadly at him. Or maybe his eyesight was starting to get blurry. He had asked them, told them and no one else of his secret devotion to Kormir, about his past connection to her. Kas had been extatic the first time he had told them, so many years ago. So in secret, with only the priests of Kormir to read him his last rights. They sat beside him as he lay, Caladbolg in hand, on a small cot prepared for him.

"Commander…?" Kasmeers soft voice broke the silence. Marjory gave her a quick comforting squeeze. "Fregion…" She corrects sadly. "Im only now realizing myself how little we…we used your name. And it- it hurts knowing the whys, and that only now does your name come easy."

Marjory presses her forehead against the side of Kasmeers head before turning to him and saying. "You lived a long, hard life commander. What are ya, 100 years old? You got to be a miser of a charr." she laughed. "Its a shame none of your cubs are here to see you off…charr cultures been changing, its a shame you…you wont get to see it." Fregion smiles up at the stars. He understands.

He only breaths deeply in response. His eyes are growing heavy. The comfort of Caladbolg on his chest, Tybalts lucky cog at his side. His warbands old pin, a pen that Demmi had given him that hed treasured after her death. He closed his eyes, and for a moment. He felt surrounded. Warmth and love filled him.

"Good to see you again, agent."

"The three of us are back together huh lightbringer?"

"Fregion, you've carried Caladbolg with honor. Im grateful we get to meet again."

"Hey there he is! Took him long enough! Look how OLD he is!" The cheers of roudy charr rung out.

"…Goodbye. I love you all…and hello again." He exhaled for the last time. Carried away by loving hands.

#gw2 #guild wars 2 #charr #charr oc #goodbye for now

[bigsnaff]

This is super disjointed, but I have a lot of thoughts about charr and their horns! Sometimes on how charr horns are regarded in their culture, as tools, fashion, weapons, and how all of that varies from charr to charr and legion to legion. So here's a very disjointed rant and collection of headcanons I have about charr horns!

The different varieties of horns there are (that are, at least, shown in-game) brings a few ideas to mind for me.

Clearly, most horns there are in-game are true horns, being that outside of the horn is actually more or less a keratin sheath for a bone core (aka the "typical" kind of horns you'll see on ruminant animals, cattle, sheep, goats, etc. etc.) They don't shed like antlers do and they grow continuously through the lifetime of an animal.

Then there are antlers. These shed yearly, grow back yearly. These are entirely composed of bone as opposed to true horns, which again, only have the bone core.

Antlers seem to be far less common among charr than actual horns. And who knows whether that the charr that do have antlers will even shed them or not? I don't think I've seen anything in the game that suggests that they do, but it's an interesting idea: charr with antler horns shedding every winter and then growing them back the next spring, larger, stronger, more impressive than the last. It's not something I personally headcanon, but again, is an interesting thought.

Charr with true horns growing theirs throughout their lifetime. An old, grizzled charr bearing the most impressive, gnarled and spiraled and scarred, massive set you've ever seen. Being able to tell how old a charr is by how large or long their horns are.

But I've also thought about the idea that, after death, charr horns are often sawed off (or broken off if the situation is time sensitive) and given to the deceased's warband or their cub(s), though the former is much more common. Often the horn will may be turned into some kind of tool or accessory; the hilt of a blade, an honored drinking horn. Something useful. A piece of your 'bandmate still there, helping you, protecting you. Whereas keeping a loved one's horn as a simple piece of memorabilia to mount on a wall is generally frowned down upon, suggesting that you didn't really respect the charr that the horn belonged to.

This would only done if the deceased is cremated; if a burial is requested in advance of death then charr will be typically be buried with their horns in tact. I believe that charr typically cremate their dead*, so this would be a rare occurrence.

I've also thought about horns being sawed or broken off while the charr is still alive, as something of an extreme punishment among the legions. Perhaps the only alternative to death within the Bane; live with the symbol of your wrong for your lifetime or die at the hands of another by fighting in the Bane.

And to be fair, the former would still be a bloody, bloody mess too. Dehorning is an extremely painful thing. Charr experiencing a battle wound of this nature would have to be treated quickly, because it can be fatal.

I really, really wish horns were mentioned more in charr culture, because they can do and mean so many things! Charr actually using them as an effective weapon in battle. Charr settling a disagreement with one another via headbutting. Charr with an amputated horn having a false metal one in its place. Bone tools made of charr antlers.

Maybe the different varieties of horns varying from which legion a charr is from. Ash legion? Sleek horns, generally sweeping back, not intrusive, easy to conceal. Blood legion? Forward horns with sharpened tips, good for goring. Iron legion? Curled, broad, wide horns, maybe even good for hanging tools on.

I would love to see some of this depicted!! Obviously it's such a broad topic to cover because of how many different ways horns can be portrayed, and this is all probably a bit convoluted, but you know... it would be fun to at least have it acknowledged somewhere in the game that horns offer much more to charr culture than just visual value.

*I think that this is canon because I swear I've read it before, whether through in-game dialogue or some other canon source, but I can't find anything online confirming this, so I could be entirely wrong. I know that Rytlock burned the bodies of some fellow soldiers on a pyre in the Edge of Destiny book, but that may just be specific to that circumstance.

#gw2 #guild wars 2 #charr #''true horn'' isn't an actual term or anything i'm just using it to differentiate between horns and antlers since they're both just called #horns in-game. #anyway cyna has the antler-type horns but I don't hc that she sheds them or anything. they grow pretty much like the true horns #but she'll probably gain some more points as she ages.

[nullvoidface]

Downtime in Cantha

CW: touches on the commander’s PTSD very lightly, spoilers for Icebrood Saga

Arborstone had many nooks and crannies to hide in if you needed to get away from everything for a bit. Though if you needed to be approachable for whatever reason, the back of the building opened into a clearing in the dense forest. That was usually where you could find the Commander if one needed him.

It wasn’t hard to spot him, he was tall even for a charr. Reddish striped fur broken up by large black patches, he was pretty difficult to miss.

Corvus sat in the grass beneath a large tree, papers strewn about and weighed down with rocks and sticks to keep them from flying away. A book was placed in his lap as he wrote.

His mane was frizzy and had patches of dirt and grass in it, presumably because he had napped at some point.

“Are you answering letters?” Kasmeer carefully sat down on the grass, not wanting to disturb any of the pages in the area.

Corvus flicked his ears before turning his head to look at Kasmeer, she had sat down on his blind side, completely forgetting about his missing eye for a moment.

He sighed and lowered his shoulders, seemingly releasing subconscious tension he had built up. “It’s for my warband. Or… I guess what’s left of them.” Corvus scratched the top of his head.

“And how is that going?” Kas didn’t want to assume.

“Well… Admittedly not great.” Corvus chuckled. “I don’t want to bother you with it though-“

Kas gave a comforting smile at that before replying. “You really have an odd idea of what ‘bothering’ someone is. If I can help, just ask.”

“I- Thank you.” A rare smile managed to reach the corners of his mouth for a second before once again fading.

“So, what are the letters about?”

Corvus took a second to think, like he hadn’t expected her to ask. “You know how I covered up my face in Drizzlewood?”

Kas nodded.

“I-“ Corvus chuckled. “After everything… After Zhaitan even- I tried to return, y’know?” Corvus looked past Kas, like she wasn’t there.

“Why?”

“Going back to my life after everything… It seemed impossible. I couldn’t- I can’t connect with people who haven’t seen those things. And I thought I was, well, saving them I suppose.” Corvus sighed, he knew how wrong that idea was now.

“And then Almorra-“ he cleared his throat, trying to compose himself. A good soldier doesn’t show sadness. “I just couldn’t face the Charr after that. Couldn’t look them in the eyes knowing that they knew I couldn’t even keep Soulkeeper alive.” He sounded angry, Kas knew it was mostly directed at himself. That was pretty normal for Corvus.

“Sure, Ash agents knew who I was, but- that’s Ash. I knew they wouldn’t tell on me to Blood or Iron, and certainly not Flame.” Corvus sighed. “I hid, because I can’t talk to people anymore, and I abandoned my warband because I couldn’t go back to my life, so I left.” Corvus shrugged like it was nothing, but Kas knew better.

“Corvus,” Kas reached out, placing a hand on the charr’s paw to comfort him. “If anyone would understand it would be your warband.”

“Euryale, sure, but I don’t even know the others. The ones who were there before I joined the pact are all dead.” Corvus chuckled. “Joined Bangar, had to kill them before we even crossed the river in Drizzlewood.”

“I’m… Sorry.” A look of concern spread its way across Kas’ face as she squeezed Corvus’ paw.

“I’m fine.”

“You know you don’t have to be, right?” Kas let out a chuckle.

“I do.”

#guild wars 2 #gw2 #gw2 fanfic #gw2 charr #gw2 commander #corvus blightstep #kasmeer meade #I HATE YOU ANET WHY WOULD YOU SAY THE COMMANDER DOESNT CHECK IN ON THEIR WARBAND

[commanderhorncleaver]

How do you think fahrar’s work? We’ve had glimpses in game here or there, but I’m curious to your interpretations

Ooh, first of all, thank you for the ask! It's an in-depth topic, but I really like the establishment of the fahrar system, even with how vague it seems to be. We don't know how many there are, though it's implied that even just the Citadel has multiple-- the Fahrar of Young Heroes is known as the Citadel's main and best fahrar.

We all know the basis of "combination daycare+military academy" but the actual structure, I imagine is pretty interesting. One big thing that's important to consider is the essential schooling, but also the consideration of how cubs wind up in positions that are interesting to them: I think assessments as well as interest-check field days are common. It's from these that cubs wind up figuring out what they'll actually be wanting to commit themselves to, and it's these classes that give them the groups they choose warbands from. While I know the military state they live in doesn't necessarily mean cubs are given jobs they want to have, but I've noted a lot of charr who surprisingly don't seem to mind having what would generally be considered not-fun jobs. There are warbands whose jobs are just scrapping, and it's explained that they don't mind it (sorry, I can't remember where this is specifically and I did briefly look where I thought they were on the wiki). Rox's warband were miners, etc.

Essentially, the early days of the fahrar are focused largely on your propaganda, general educational stuff--even soldiers have to count--, and fitness. All classes have drills and team-building exercises. As cubs get older and pick up interests, they get their warbands and learn more focused stuff for what they're going to be doing when they graduate. This structure is likely adhered to rigidly, because charr love structure.

#horncleaver asks #gw2 #lore

[amerikanhervi]

"Gather around, Cubs." The Primus shouted, stomping her foot to the sheet-metal floor of the Fahrar training grounds. "Today's lesson is straight from High Command. Listen close, and listen well."

The Cubs gathered around, standing in single-file horizontal format just like they trained. They looked amongst each other confused. High Command? "What could be so important?" they thought. "We're just kids!"

The Primus took a steep inhale through her teeth--the strain visible on her face as she thought about how to explain this. It felt absurd and unnecessary but orders are orders. She brought her palms together and began to speak.

"One of you among us is the child of the worst Sire in all of Black Citadel. You have a legacy of treachery, lies, and the sorcery of gods long slain." The Primus took a shaky breath, looking among the crowd. "The problem is that we do not know which one of you it is."

The cubs all looked amongst each other looking for any clue or sign that could be readily apparent. Yet they found nothing as such things cannot be seen or sensed. They must make themselves apparent in time. A paranoia to root deep in the seed of the youth.

"So instead we will tell you a tale of what you should not become, unlike your Sire before you. A traitor to the High Legions with no home, no people and no Warband."

"The Queen of Beggars."

The Cubs Oooh'd and Aaah'd. The first time a lesson was being taught that was not hard technical theories or physical applications of mathematics. They were now paying close attention to every word that left the Primus' lips.

"She, at your age, learned she had the powers of Earth, Water, Fire and Air. Forbidden sorceries that she should have left well alone. Even when her friends and family turned away from her she refused to stop this silly use of her powers.

Instead of returning to the loyalty of Warbands, or to reach out to her Primus and learn a truly necessary skill like hand-to-hand combat or mechanical engineering--she learned to lie and cheat."

"She ran from the Fahrar, and never returned. We thought this the end of her--a forever Gladia rummaging for scraps to survive on the edges of the Citadel. This was a silly mistake. Instead she had found her way to the Gladium Canton--and her honey and sugar lies reeled in many.

They formed a "Union" of Gladia. A grievous bastardization of what it means to be a Warband. They made a mockery of our great system. Crime had been at this point a nightly thing. Murders, hospitalizations, arsons

--and the Legions had finally had enough."

The Cubs were listening intently to the Primus. They were enraptured by the tension and presentation. They were taking in everything as it was said--which brought peace to the Primus. That they would process this and take away the right messages---she hoped.

"The legions invaded the Canton with the intention to arrest and execute this traitor. They had her whereabouts, her connections and her lieutenants. Yet when they did. They had discovered that the whole canton was rigged to explode. She had known they were coming, and they had brought with them the newly elected Ash Tribune."

"All that was left was rubble."

There was long silence among the Fahrar. The cubs shuffled around and the patter of Charr walking under the stairs could be heard as they were working on their responsibilities. Though the general air of unease among the older workers was palpable. Thick in the air like a mist.

"She now is at large with her bastard of a 'Gang' as she calls it. Reigning terror over Black Citadel operations and hard working Charr all across Diessa through her violent crime and manipulation of our intelligence. Though no one knows how she even gets it."

"So, my little cubs. Remember what is important to you: If you are not a good worker, if you are not a cunning worker and if you are not a Warband worker---you will end up like her. Tending to the rocks and mountains with no family, no hope--and no dreams except the death of good men and women for no other reason than your sick, narcissitic pride. Sorcery is the origin of laziness and deceit."

"DO NOT USE TITAN MAGIC."

#Niddhil #GW2 #Guild Wars 2 #The Queen of Beggars #Charr

[dc-said-bi-robin-rights]

In Another World (1151 words) by ajvt

Tools, like him. Machines. Beeping. People standing over him. Latex gloves caressing his body, like worms, like sand. Face masks. Scalpels glinting under overhead lights.

He’s at the Farm. He never left.

no stop not again I will make you pay I will make you scream

“Cyrus?” Voice, faint. Light. Alarms, blaring. Roaring. Boots. Get them. Stop them. No escape. She won’t allow it. She won’t let her stop it.

“Cyrus, can you hear me?”

Maybe he did leave. Not that it matters. He’s back, and it’s worse this time. Not even a cuckoo. Just a thing.

“Cyrus, you need to wake up.” Why? Does it matter? They’ll make him anyway. He doesn’t need to do anything.

“Cyrus!”

Unless…

“Cyrus!”

Static. Familiar, like a hug. Scary, once. But not like theirs. Not completely. Not where it mattered.

“Cyrus!”

The man who was once Sidestep peels back the lid of his true eye and sees only static. His other eyes, his false eyes, his man-eyes, though… they see the woman.

An impossible thing. A weak hope.

And yet here. Here and real.

His lips crack open, parched and weak from years of disuse. He doesn’t know how many. “Ortega?”

Alarms blare, again and again. A storm of thoughts engulfs his senses, a haze clouding his visions. And yet the smile of the woman that looks down on him as real as a memory.

“You’re awake. Thank God. I thought…”

“You… you can’t be here,” he interrupts, blinking as if doing it enough times would dispel the illusion. “You moved on. You stopped looking.”

“What are you talking about?” Ortega asks, before shaking her head. “Nevermind, forget i said anything. We need to get you out of here before the guards come.”

“The… guards…?”

“Yes, the guards,” Ortega says, moving over to the machines holding him in place, out of his line of vision. It vexes Cyrus, not being able to turn his head to look at her, not being able to feel her in his mind, to simply have to trust that she is there. But she is, and a moment later, he hears the crackle of lightning surging into the machines behind him, followed by the release of the clamps around his extremities.

He was free. Just like that. Cyrus felt sudden tears spring to his eyes, tears which he angrily blinked away. So long spent lying down, half-naked, a thing for their tools to poke and prod… and then it was just over. Like a switch. It was almost too much to believe, too much to trust.

“Can you stand?” Ortega’s voice again, from behind him. Cyrus barely hears her, so she sighs and picks him up, holding him to her chest bridal-style as his eyes flutter closed. The practical part of Cyrus’ mind doesn’t like that—she should keep at least one arm free in case she needed to fight, he knows that—but he is so inconceivably, inexplicably exhausted he can’t bring himself to voice that thought. It was the kind of tiredness that went beyond the physical, like the point after a fight where the adrenaline wears off magnified a thousand fold.

It didn’t matter, though. Ortega was here. He didn’t have to be strong anymore. He could just… sleep. It would be all okay. Things would work themselves out, and…

They’re in a corridor. A man stands in front of them, a guard, like Ortega said. He is shouting, inside and outside. Cyrus can hear him, inside and outside. His thoughts are like a stream of hail, pointed and sharp, scared and furious, focused outwards. Towards them. Towards him. He has a gun, long, smooth, with a pump. A shotgun. He won’t hesitate to shoot if Ortega doesn’t turn back. Doesn’t stop. Doesn’t leave him here.

A moment later, the gun goes off in the guard’s mouth. He drops to the floor, chunks of his head splattering the walls. The only choice. One he doesn’t regret.

Ortega holds him tighter. Is she scared? Of him? That doesn’t make sense to Cyrus. She’s the Static. He should be scared of her.

“Come on,” she says, shaking off her shock. Cyrus doesn’t miss the fact that she steps over more bodies than just that of the guard as she continues forward. One of them is charred, which is interesting, because usually Ortega makes an effort not to kill.

Some of them aren’t, though. Most of them aren’t.

Was the guard the first? The last?

“You okay down there?” Ortega’s voice. They aren’t in a corridor anymore. He can see the sky.

The sky. How long has it been since the last time he could claim that?

“I should be asking you that question,” he says. It smells like burnt meat.

“I’ve still got enough juice to get you out of here.” A grimace. A smile? She doesn’t like killing. She’s doing it anyway, because Re-Genes don’t stop coming, don’t stay down when they should. Pain-Gate. Like the one he had.

Has she gone mad, like him? Mad, for him? Cyrus doesn’t know. Cyrus doesn’t care.

“You work for the government.” It’s a non sequitur, not to mention a stupid thing to fixate on, but she’s a Ranger. “You can’t do this. You’re a Ranger.”

“Not today I’m not.” Ortega smiles, and somehow he knows right then and there that this is fake. “Today I’m…”

He never gets to hear her finish.

His eyes snap open to darkness, sweat sliding down his body as he sits up, heart racing. The sheets feels familiar, as does the bed underneath him, and when he sends his frantic mind out he can sense only the woman, downstairs… cooking, humming to herself, thinking of bacon and cereal and other inane insanities. Beyond that, the fluttering thoughts of the horses. The goat that was more than a goat. And next to him…

“Hey,” says the Static, sitting up in bed, voice soft. She places her hand on his shoulder—his naked shoulder, because it doesn’t matter if she sees anymore, not after the crash. “You okay?”

The Ranch. Ortega. It’s a relief, in some ways. It’s a disappointment, in others.

“Just a dream,” Cyrus says, because he doesn’t blame her anymore. It was Steel who abandoned him, not her. He knows that now. “Go back to sleep.”

“Mmmh, if you say so.” Ortega presses a kiss to his shoulder and lays back down, closing her eyes. “Was it at least a nice dream?”

“It was about you,” he admits, which makes her grin. Cyrus rolls his eyes, even though she can’t see it. “Can it, old woman. Just because it was about you doesn’t mean it was nice dream.”

“Well, was it?”

She’s too smug for her own good.

Doesn’t mean she’s wrong.

“It was.” He lays back down and closes his eyes, feeling Ortega place her arms around his waist. “It really was.”

#fallen hero retribution #fallen hero rebirth #fallen hero #fhr #fhr sidestep #fhr charge #fhr ortega #chargestep #julia ortega #fhr julia ortega

[teecupangel]

Hi!

Have you ever heard of guild wars 2? I’ve been playing it a lot and I found myself wondering what races Desmond and his ancestors would be (and…. maybe how Desmond as the Commander would be like 👀)...

I’ve never played it but I have heard of it and was interested in it because a friend of mine suggested we play it (we never did, the woes of adulthood XD).

Anyway, for this one, I kinda like the idea that this is modern day and Desmond, Altaïr, Ezio and Ratonhnhaké:ton all meet in the game and form a guild of their own.

Like, they were all part of another guild but Altaïr had a falling out with the guild leader so he left. Desmond, Ezio and Ratonhnhaké:ton are the closest players to him so they left with him and they build their own guild with Ezio pushing the leadership role to Altaïr because he is the one who left and ‘dragged’ them with him (“I didn’t drag any of you, you followed me” “And now you have to take responsibility.”)

It won’t be long before their guild starts getting other members.

Some were from their old guild who quit after realizing the guild leader was a dick and went to their guild.

Some are their friends who thought it would be more fun to be in the same guild as them.

Others are newbies that someone had adopted along the way (this is usually Ezio).

Because of how big their guild is growing, Altaïr made Desmond a commander because he was, in Altaïr’s own words, ‘the least annoying member in the guild’ which is really Altaïr-speak for ‘everyone likes you’.

Ezio and Ratonhnhaké:ton also gets promoted to be lieutenants and there’s some questions why Altaïr doesn’t just become the commander since he’s the squad leader which can easily be silenced by:

“Who do you like more, Altaïr or Desmond?”

As for their races and professions…

It’s possible that they’d all decide to be specialized Thieves with Altaïr taking Spectre, Ratonhnhaké:ton taking Deadeye and Ezio taking Daredevil while Desmond goes for Firebrand Guardian because someone had to take the healing/tank role for the party.

But to make it a little fun, everyone decides a different class other than Thieves (maybe they do have an all Thieves alternate account with Desmond staying as a Thief and not getting any specialization or they’re all Thieves without any expansion who focused on different cores with Desmond going for Trickery, Ratonhnhaké:ton with Critical Strikes, Ezio with Deadly Arts and Altaïr with Shadow Arts)

Desmond:

Human Necromancer (Core: Death Magic with a bit of Blood Magic and Curses)

If he did get an expansion, he would be a Scourge

Oh, he definitely got a necromancer because he died in canon. Also, scourge was picked because “Burn and Torment your foes, punish their boons and bolster your allies” sounds very Desmond XD

Serves more as a sorta debuffer/support/sub-DPS in the party

Altaïr:

Asura Charr (Core: Illusions with a bit of Chaos and Domination)

If he did get an expansion, he would be a Mirage.

In other words, Altaïr’s way of fighting is like he’s using the powers of his Apple in this game.

his Thief alternate account is an Asura though

Serves as a sub-DPS and debuffer in the party.

Ezio:

Sylvari Guardian (Core: Honor with minor Valor and Radiance)

If he did get an expansion, he’d go for Firebrand.

Ezio gets to be the Guardian more because he can be any classes and these party needs a freaking tank and healer as well as a ‘reference’ to his prophet status in canon.

Serves as the Tank and Healer of the party.

Ratonhnhaké:ton:

Norn Ranger (Core: primarily Marksmanship with minor Skirmishing and Beastmastery)

If he got an expansion, definitely going for Soulbeast.

Ratonhnhaké:ton is based on his hunter experience in canon as well as his deadliness with the bow.

Serves as the primary DPS of the party.

Unorganized Notes:

By Guild Wars 2 standards, their guild is more on the smaller side but they synergies well with one another that they can go toe-to-toe with the large guilds.

The other members of their guilds are other canon Assassins and some allies.

Leonardo is definitely a Mechanist in Ezio’s sub-group

Edward is Ratonhnhaké:ton’s grandfather and playing Guild Wars is one of the few ways he can keep in touch with his grandson. He plays as Willbender that acts as a tank in Ratonhnhaké:ton’s sub-group. He also sometimes act like the sub-leader of their group.

Whenever Desmond has to act like a commander, he’s more focused on everyone’s stats and would command them from the backline. His class as a necromancer helps with this because he can focus on debuffing the enemies while his minions do damage on his behalf and get aggro away from other players.

#idkw but this feels like it can totally be yamada kun to lv999 esque XD #guild wars au #online games au #i didn't say it out right #but the old guild master was abbas XD #assassin's creed #desmond miles #altaïr ibn la'ahad #ezio auditore #ratonhnhaké:ton #connor kenway #ask and answer #teecup writes/has a plot #fic idea: assassin's creed

[astralarias]

please talk about your characters! i don't mind who i just wanna hear you ramble about your toons <3

Aaa thank you!! 🥺

Since I just posted a gifset of her, I'll talk a little about Aikarico, my beloved warcat, and her backstory <3

She came remarkably close to having a completely different life! Her parents were critical of the Legions as a whole and had plans to leave after the birth of their cub, as fleeing & traveling would be too strenuous on Electra (Aika's mother) during her pregnancy. Their goal was to reach Lion's Arch and settle down as a family.

However, mere weeks before Aikarico was born, her father, Theo, was killed on patrol by a Flame Legion ambush. Electra was heartbroken, and after Aikarico was born she didn't have the strength to flee the Legions alone - only to give Aikarico as much love as she could in the time they had. Being an only child, Aikarico was incredibly clingy and a very shy, sweet cub who rarely left her mother's side.

When it came time for her to join the Fahrah, she didn't cope well. Ripped from her mother's warm embrace into a world of survival of the fittest, she struggled - bullied endlessly by her peers for her softness. Until she wasn't. Until she forced herself to get tough, against her every instinct. She fought back with fang and claw, so no-one would ever hurt her again.

Her mother had promised she'd visit. She never did. Aikarico grew up believing she had been abandoned without reason by the only person who had loved her for her, not knowing the truth - Electra had died shortly after Aikarico left her side, falling ill and not having the strength to recover.

By the time she reached adulthood, Aikarico had become an arrogant, defiant problem for her warband and superiors, and had no intention of changing. It was a mask, but one she could no longer tell where it ended and she began any more. She had stopped trying to take it off long ago.

However, her higher-ups weren't about to let such subordination slide for much longer, especially after her stunts to prove herself as bigger, better, stronger, resulted in casualties in the field more than once. She always knew better, and nothing was ever her fault. It couldn't be - she was flawless, because if she wasn't, she was nothing.

After a string of complaints from her warbandmates, Aikarico was made a gladium. As the verdict was dealt, though, she stood tall and announced she was leaving, anyway, so there - you can't fire me, I quit! Denounced as a traitor and disappointment, she fled the Legions - just as her parents had meant to do all those years ago, albeit with a twist.

From there, she wandered Tyria, taking up jobs for bandits and thieves - anyone who would pay, at first - but eventually building up a reputation as a skilled assassin. She hung around human lands for a while - the least charr place she could think of, although she still held herself as charr in far-too-high regard. Among certain shady circles, she gained notoriety. If you wanted someone dead, she was the cat for the job. She was never happy, but she was feared and respected, and that was enough for a time.

Eventually she grew bored and set on the road again, winding up in the Desolation after a few years. Here, she worked with the Order of Shadows alongside her regular assassination jobs - she never became an official member, but she was known throughout the ranks as "that arrogant charr who thinks too much of herself".

During the events of Path of Fire, she was given a mark that would change her life once again; the Commander. She never did find out who put her on the job - it was all very secretive - but it payed well, and she knew to kill him would bolster her legend beyond all belief and hope. She took it without a second thought.

She followed Atlaki for days. Watched his every move, as he stopped amid the carnage to...help people? Didn't he have a god to catch? Why would he stop and show such...weakness?

She was horribly intrigued. And besides, maybe she was a little bored of the desert too, now. The Desolation was all moody skies and sulfur. Even killing here was getting dull.

So, finally, she engaged her target. But instead of shooting him from some perch, she appeared to his face and demanded he fight her. She was somewhat hurt when he appeared more tired than anything, but he agreed - and promptly kicked her ass. Okay, now she was impressed...although, of course, her losing was totally all part of her plan.

She introduced herself, told him she was meant to kill him but kind of didn't want to do that anymore, and she'd be helping him out from now on. A paw was offered to shake, and Atlaki - deciding this odd charr wasn't the worst or strangest thing to fall from the sky in recent times - took it.

Thus began Aikarico's looong, winding path to becoming a better, and certainly more tolerable person - someone her parents would be beyond proud to see flourish, with Atlaki's influence. She remains proud, arrogant, even but it's genuine now and not so much of a mask. She's charismatic, brash, and herself. She has the family she always needed, in Atlaki, and Cassien, and Aurene.

#sorry for the NOVEL but I love my girl so dearly #aikarico #oc talk tag #thank you again anon!!

[m0r1bund]

[image description below the cut because it's Big]

◆◆◆

Bwahh.

Tubby baby Ximone is @soulfullofold's Charr character, Trahearne is Trahearne. “xyz will now die for you” is a reference to the ever-iconic Hiimdaisy Persona comic.

I have two competing thoughts about swerving on Trahearne getting fridged. One of them is self-actualized water spirit who is haunting the shit out of Orr, and the other one is blighted vessel that killed and ate mordyboy while he was locked in his psychic prison, but nobody else knows that, least of all Trahearne, so everyone just wants him dead.

though I guess maybe these could become the same thing somehow.

…I just think he’s neat.

◆◆◆

[Image: a sketchpage of altogether too many shitty little Guild Wars 2 doodles. From left to right, top to bottom, roughly:

One Trahearne hoisting up the inordinately huge Caladbolg / Caladcholg, and looking ominous.

The Lastborn, comically minimized and running away from Trahearne with his Big Sword ™.

The Lastborn brooding and hugging his knees, with his sharp blades of yucca hair standing on end. He says ‘No talk me I’m angy.’ The next doodle shows a much softer-eyed and mellow Lastborn saying ‘No longer angy. I want to be loved now.’

Yuri shaking hands with Trahearne. A narration box says ‘You became friends.’ Nothing changes in the next panel, not even their expressions, but a deathly pallor falls over everything. The box says ‘You will now die for each other.’

A minimized Yuri sitting next to a minimized Lastborn. The Lastborn crouches on the ground, reduced to a yucca puffball with little mitts for hands. He looks up at Yuri through big, catlike eyes. In the next doodle, he bonks his head and whole body into Yuri’s shoulder.

Two drawings of Ximone as a fierce little cub. She looks appropriately ferocious in the first doodle, arcing her back and prowling around on all fours…. Though she’s about as threatening as a pudgy puma kit. In the next doodle, she’s shocked up onto her hindlegs by an equally surprised kid Yuri. He rolls on his back to avoid her sharp claws.

A shitty little Mordremoth getting confronted by Yuri and Trahearne. Mordremoth points at Trahearne and says ‘I WANT THAT TWINK OBLITERATED.’ Yuri and Trahearne exchange glances, and he slams his claws down and roars ‘NO!!!’

The Lastborn sitting in the great palm of the Pale Tree’s hand and desperately pleading some sort of case, as he typically finds himself doing around her and her company. She’s big mclargehuge and intimidating because I said so.

One blighted Trahearne, touching the thick scars on his arm. Much of his face and body is scarred as well, the whorls, lines, and ragged edges tracing his ill-fated death throes with the dragon.

The Lastborn delicately changing some linen bandages on blighted Trahearne’s face. They’re saturated with blood; He seems to have re-opened earlier wounds. He is uncharacteristically angry with the Lastborn’s efforts to attend to him, and asks ‘Why are you doing this?’ The Lastborn recoils, slightly. He sheepishly answers ‘All things have a right to grow.’ Trahearne strains, raising his bandaged arm to stop the Lastborn from working any further. He says ‘Don’t—Don’t quote him at me. This is different and you know it.’

Yuri and Trahearne taking a combination bath-nap in a body of water, somewhere. Yuri makes a good improvised pillow, it seems.]

#yuri six-cants tag #trahearne tag #ximone atropos tag #lastborn tag #guild wars 2 tag #content warning: injury #content warning: blood

[telltalecoyote]

Charr Posting 3/3 (The OLDER one)

Dusty Wanderhorn, (Patroklos Dawnbringer)

They always say to never meet your heroes, though for charr, that's usually because they die shortly after reaching that notoriety!

Patroklos Dawnbringer was found wandering the Crystal Desert in nothing but the fur that covered his body, certainly this charr was more than delirious, murmuring about a "demon" and wandering the Mists, certainly that's too much for one charr to handle alone, right?

...Not in this case, it was discovered that Patroklos had lost his memory, and not just that, he was spat out of the Mists and had been wandering the desert for days! He had been fighting for his survival in a nearly primal sort of state, fighting like a madman wielding nothing but two swords and a mask to hide his face! He claimed a demon gave him the power to do so, but...

The mystery doesn't end there, further research uncovered that a charr in centuries past bore a surprising resemblance to this man, who had been dubbed "Dusty" by his rescuers, he was Patroklos Dawnbringer, an ancient charr hero who had lost his life saving his comrades from a Flame legion incursion, his sacrifice allowing the tide of battle to be turned! His body was never to be found, and was rumored to have been lost to the surviving Flame soldiers, used for their heinous rituals.

Patroklos, now referred to as Dusty, recalls the event differently, however... Unable to recall the details entirely, he DOES know that the truth was buried in layers of treachery against him by his "comrades" who held ill will against him, and now he works to uncover the truth, and how to get his memory back, and why they thought he deserved this fate...

Despite all this, Dusty is a stern old man who's tempered his rage and madness by burying himself in numerous tomes and articles to learn about how much the world has changed since he was displaced from his point in time, finding the process soothing to his mind. It's not uncommon for him to show his expertise in combat AND use it as a teaching opportunity at the same time, beating your ass while teaching you a cultural factoid... The youth has long since taken to calling him a GILF, saying he's graduated from DILF status...

#charrposting #charr #gw2 #oc: dusty wanderhorn #furry #please ask him about his hammer in that second photo #i love old men #as you couldnt tell by these three charr being increasingly older

[wilsons-journey]

A decision

After the events, Kying became more withdrawn than ever. He had a lot to think about. His thoughts were still spinning wildly through his head. It was still hard to process for him. And even though he had so much on his mind... and felt like he was going to break down under all of these emotions,... he foremost felt just empty. An emptiness that soon filled with disappointment.

On the next morning Corrs body was found, along with two other Charr. With them was a plain message with the word “Traitor”. While most were shocked by this. Kyings squad leader Huet, seemed unfazed by the development. On the contrary, he even seemed disappointed. As if he knew more than the others. A suspicion that was soon confirmed. He knew of Corrs intentions from the start, as he soon revealed.

“It was easier to keep an eye on him that way. To get the information we needed.”

Was his explanation.

“You like to be on good terms with everyone. It was perfect. He didn't suspect anything."

Kying would’ve understood it, if he wasn't the only one, who was in the dark about that.  Everyone in his squad knew Corr was a spy. Everyone but him. He felt betrayed,... did they really have so less trust in him? And what had been obvious for a long time, only now became clear to Kying. They never trusted him. Nor did they ever wanted him. He was just a disruptive factor - a means to an end. Just good enough for the dirty work. But not good enough to really get included.

But why does he care now? It’s been this way all these years. He never cared, nor did he ever try to change anything. It was his choice. So it was his own fault.

He could’ve changed it any time. But he was scared - scared of ending up all alone. Like the day he came to the Black Citadel as a refugee. Without a family, friends or his old Fahrar. A complete Stranger.

But he wasn't alone. Not quite.

-

One evening he found a small bottle of sake in his room. He knew who this was from. Valefor had been there.

In the past, sake had always been an invitation. Sometimes also a sign of apology. That evening Kying wasn't able to figure out, what it was supposed to represent. He was still confused.

So he just stared at the bottle in silence. He didn’t dare to touch it either. His thoughts started spinning again.

He knew Valefor for quite a while now and yet he remained a mystery. For Kying it was still difficult to understand the other his motives. He was so incredibly ambivalent in his behavior. It made Kying angry. Anger that boiled up in him again. So he grabbed the bottle and wanted to throw it against the wall.

But he stopped.

A note was revealed under the bottle. "If you want to talk." With that single written Message was an address - in lions arch.

The note in one hand and the bottle in the other, Kying fell in deep thoughts again.

-

After a few days, a decision was made He would leave the Black Citadel behind and everything else with it. He grew tired of his current life.

So tt was finally time for a change.

- To be continued.

--- Follow up of:

Sidenote: Kying is,... well was a Member of the Ash Legion. His Warband was investigating the whole thing around Phrikes little Cult. They try to find out his location - and little spoiler: They will.

But what will happen is something for later. But it's not the last we see of Kyings old Warband - especially Huet. Even if he was treating Kying poorly, he's not a big fan of Kyings decision to leave.

#gw2 #guildwars2 #guild wars 2 #myArt #valefor-kying-journey #kying #and now we finally slowly moving up again

[gwtoomanyalts]

Art Party

As I said in my post I know I can’t art, 

  but I thought I’d try my hand at poetry for a start.

For at the party as was plain to see,

  were many fair folk of the Pale Tree.

-

The Sylvari, born of dreams, a mystery yet to unfold,

  their spirits so strong, their leaves so bold.

From the pale tree in pods they are birthed fully grown,

  diverse beauty and grace their forms have all shown.

-

Their nature is kind, their will is so strong,

  they seek to understand, just where they belong.

They explore and discover, with childlike graces,

  and bring hope to all those who see their bright faces.

-

The Sylvari had welcomed all to this party in their home,

  even the massive charr that had decided to roam.

So cherish these plants, with their beauty and heart,

  for they're a beacon of hope, in a world that needs art.

-

To many it seemed this was an occasion to dance,

  and though shy my tiny asura decided to take a chance.

Surely enough there was much fun to be had

  and Rikka found that in deciding to come she was quite glad.

-

- End

#vsartparty #gw2 #poem #oh god what have i done #why am i sharing this #i blame the asura circle for this

[commanderhorncleaver]

Please, give us 5, 7, 10 for Gaius from the commander asks

Ask Game

5. For champions of Aurene, what would/do their branded forms look like?

If Gaius were to have a branded form, I imagine the majority of the transformation would be extensions of his existing prismatic horns. For example, the brand stretches down across his forehead, and in particular on his left side swaths across his face and to his missing eye, granting a prismatic eye there. Aside from that, the idea that it would be fairly simple from there, but still extremely noticeable is that all of his existing scars would then be branded over. Think about that... a charr covered in brand scars like that. Especially notable for Gaius, given his impaling scar from PoF.

7. For Commanders with love interests, how does being Commander affect the relationship dynamic and/or feelings on either side?

Gaius has had a number of notable issues with romance while being commander.

Rytlock, upon returning from the Mists in HoT and being continually prodded by Gaius to explain what happened in the Mists, voices some thoughts that imply Gaius to be jealous of him on account of no longer being the only one with mist-jumping powers (Revenant longsword 3 is a tactic Gaius made use of for a long time while in possession of his soul dagger). The situation that springs from this speaks for the issues of two late-forties men who aren't good at communicating and have a lot of stress on their shoulders.

Efram, later, is subjected to a lot of the holdover from Gaius' situationship with Rytlock, most nominally Gaius being extremely slow to act on his feelings even after they've acknowledged that their attraction and interest is mutual. Even after that, there's the problems of the long-distance relationship of Ef being based [where-fucking-ever New Flame is, but I imagine they still operate out of Grothmar for a period] as well as Gaius not only being based in the Citadel, but often moving for work (as expected as the commander).

10. What is the most common criticism levied against them by detractors?

Early in Gaius' career with the Pact, it wasn't uncommon for him to be accused of allowing preventable casualties, though this is something he would explain as tactical, for a time. However, after Tower Down in the 70 missions, it's his interaction with Medic Ceera that first changes how he feels about 'acceptable losses'.

A second criticism sent his way is by charr, especially during IBS and his subsequent run for Imperator: he's never fucking there. I won't go into too much cause I ramble about it a lot, and it's not an uncommon theme for charr commanders, but it's part of why he's so adamantly around and also not even involved in SotO.

#horncleaver asks #gaius horncleaver #gw2 #thank you for the asks!