#ghosts of ascalon

[skaald-of-the-hearth-fires]

DoF:RefTE chapter 5 - Throwing Fire

Dreams of Freedom: Reforging the Edge

Chapter five: Throwing Fire | (AO3 link)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Immediately, more ghosts coalesce out of nowhere.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, sir!”

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

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

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

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

Who am I kidding?

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

Rytlock would take the myth.

#Rytlock Brimstone #OC #Vargok Hellforge #Smokestead #duke barradin #gw2 #ascalon #Forge Warband #charr #Ascalonian ghosts #Dreams of Freedom #Reforging the Edge #gw2 charr

[elder-dragon]

...and the bad part of reading Ghosts of Ascalon is that it makes me want to make the Claw of the Khan-Ur legendary 

#ghosts of ascalon read thru

[anghraine]

Sometimes I wish GW2 had more of a following in "fandom" (scare quotes since of course it does have a fandom and a fairly big one, but less of a presence in the broader fandom circles I'm familiar with—approximately less than half as many fics on AO3 as P&P, for instance).

That said, I suddenly contemplated the "everything I dislike is somehow pedophilia" crowd's takes on sylvari ships and actually, relative fandom obscurity is pretty nice.

#i was playing out the early sylvari personal story and thinking the evolving dynamic with caithe is super intriguing #and could definitely end up with a shippy slant and then was like 'lmao wait fandom would probably think the pc is child coded' #and even in the smallish tumblr fandom i have definitely seen the conquest of ascalon presented as heartwarming by non-gw1 players #not like they have to but /flashes back to rescuing civilians enslaved by the charr or consoling ghosts of those they slaughtered #*not like they have to play gw1 #i sometimes still see gw1 players who admit they can't bring themselves to play gw2 because of the charr #and it's like ... a pity bc gw2 is mechanically spectacular and has a lot of interesting ideas. but also i get it! #anghraine babbles #ascalonian grudgeblog #general fanwank #gw fanwank #i was thinking of sylvari/sylvari ships but IMAGINE the takes on human/sylvari or whatever #there are canon interspecies ships incidentally #and the uhh oeuvre of tyrian chuck tingle i mean snargle goldclaw tell us it's definitely a familiar concept at least #yeah tumblr gw2 discourse would suck even if it would also be sometimes legit #(the process of making the bifrost is painfully and uncritically colonialist imo) #(especially the earlier game has such persistently hot female characters regardless of age #that it verges onto the ridiculous [see: eir's character design while everyone goes on about how she's an old woman]) #(not as extreme as gw1 can be with the objectification but. still) #long post #purely for the tag ramble

[rsmrymnt-tea]

im suddenly good at gw1 again wtf

#in other news #almost nothing happens in pre-searing except a ton of side quests... #idk how to translate that to a liner plot that would be akin to a demo or first chapter of a game #*linear #literally helping out townsfolk and the aristocracy #at some point youre basically polling for everyones opinion on the king #though now that im able to actually pay attention #and after seeing everyone dead and back as vengeful ghosts in gw2 #idk it feels different to go through pre-searing ascalon #but also wow so much is colored by rose colored glasses because there really isnt much to some of the characters that for some reason #i thought had huge contributions to the story with how gw2 references them #idk but it was a really nice experience #though goodness is gw1 so different and much harder than gw1 #i mean gw2 #like they went from the most static and punishing game ever to the smoothest most satisfying combat ive ever experienced #self & soliloquy

[ohpollenpowder]

Can't remember if we're behind or not. But have Killéén for Rotation! I think I made her shortly after I finished reading the novel Ghosts of Ascalon. I fell in love with her spunky attitude towards things, her eagerness to learn about one of the scariest things in life, death. Especially to one of her people since this was earlier than story so they were younger still. Killéén is a good bean!

#killéén #gw2 sylvari #gw2 necromancer #gw2 harbinger #the rotation 2024

[ultimate-sword-showdown]

Round 1, Match 31: sord.... vs. Sohothin

sord....

From: Homestuck

Wielder: Dave Strider

Sord…. Is a sword creating by combining a mall katana with an ms paint drawing. It is such an abysmally shitty sword that it costs negative money and the jpeg artifacting is so bad that it hurts to hold. It can turn things into ms paint drawings, including the wielder.

Sohothin

From: Guild Wars 2

Wielder: Rytlock Brimstone

A magic sword formerly owned by the god of war. According to the legend, if Sohothin returned to the haunted remains of Ascalon City, the curse which turned all the humans into vengeful ghosts would be lifted. It was stolen by Rytlock who became famous for wielding it on his adventures.

#sword showdown #sword showdown polls #sword showdown rematch #homestuck #dave strider #sord.... #guild wars 2 #rytlock brimstone #sohothin

[guildwuff2]

(also tell me in the comments/tags your opinion on charr clawspurs. do you ignore them, orient them mors like dewclaws or consider them as-is)

#guild wars 2 #gw2 #charr #polls #i've done this one before but now it's Tumblr Time

[nice-profession-mechanic]

Thief Commander feels just a little bit more insane that the rest of the professions.

The rest of the professions are described in a way that justifies their abilities through years of study and practice.

Thief kinda feels like they heard a bunch of unfounded rumors and then spent every 3rd Tuesday trying to make it happen between part time jobs.

Imagine this: Thief goes to ascalon, beats up a bunch of ghosts with martial weapons, eats bits of the ghosts (consume plasma - stolen skill) or holds skulls aloft to brag about. What part of that sounds like someone with an education?!

With their terrible health pool, not only did they not learn to die. They also didn't learn how to stay healthy.

#gw2 #guild wars 2 #thief commander #i feel like it took until PoF for them to ''learn'' something #which was the concept of standing at 1200 range and not teleporting into melee range #for spectre; they actually had to learn that from someone #probably from the ghosts in seiting provence

[ratasum]

Umbra Shadowshot

A gladium who formerly served as a warrior in the Shadow warband, Umbra never really anticipated the sort of life she would eventually end up leading. Loyal, determined, and fierce, she was well liked in her warband, many of whom she'd known since her time in the fahrar. But her future with them was not in Umbra's destiny.

One night, during a routine sweep of the ruins of old Ascalon, the Shadow warband was overwhelmed... not by ghosts, but by the Flame Legion. Their legionnaire had sold them out. Everyone was killed... except for Umbra and Caligula Shearshadow, their legionnaire. Umbra was able to best him in combat and drag him back to the Black Citadel, where she was given the honor of killing him for his crimes.

She spent the days and weeks in the aftermath of the loss of her warband recovering from her injuries... and trying to understand why the world around her suddenly, inexplicably, felt so unsettlingly loud.

It took some time for her to finally sort out that she was not imagining things: Umbra was hearing her lost warband speak with her, as clearly as though they were still alive.

This eventually led her to the path of the Revenant. Her warband remains with her even in death, and though few others believe her, this strange ability did lead her to try to help the survivors of Lion's Arch whose dead still followed them like smoke.

It does cause her to have trouble sleeping, however.

#gw2 fan submission #gw2 charr #umbra shadowshot

[telltalecoyote]

wip whenever

I got tagged by @commanderhorncleaver and I've got something fun to share from last night-- while I work on tidying it up, changing a few things, and work on a small drawing for it! Post Base-Game, Cassius Witherpaw finds himself running away from the Citadel and his responsibilities-- considering desertion, and it leads into a chance run-in with Bangar Ruinbringer and a new bond. I don't know who to tag that hasn't been already, I really gotta get to know some more folks, there's so many of yall! But if you see this and you got something to share, I'm putting it on you!!

Cassius hadn’t known where, and how long he had been gone from the Black Citadel, from his home and his allies; the very same ones he had slain an Elder Dragon with of all things. He should be happy, if not at the very least impressed at what his talents were able to do.

Yet, all he could think about was how alone he felt, even surrounded by the very same allies, it felt hollow. It had been a long time since his close friend had died, he was struggling to move on and hated himself for that, they were both charr, an early death is expected of them, wasn’t it? 

Another show of weakness from Brittlepaw, he thought to himself. 

Many thoughts fought for Cassius’ focus, but of relevance to his situation; This should be –and likely is– considered desertion, it would likely only be a matter of time before someone would show up to take him in, perhaps it’d even be Rytlock himself– he always hated deserters, but at least Cassius found comfort how that case it would mean Tribune took the time out of his day to find him. Maybe that’s why he kept running, he found hope in his longing.

And yet, when he heard multiple sets of footsteps approaching his shelter, he still sprung to his feet and drew his blade. Although he had traveled a ways east out of Ascalon, he wouldn’t put it past the ghosts to have trailed him this far, and if not the ghosts, the Dragonbrand wasn’t too far either.

The shadows cast onto the far wall had betrayed the intruders, if they had truly meant him harm, perhaps they would’ve been more careful in their approach, or more loud and careless depending. In the brief glance, he saw horns in the silhouette and a tail to match, his hand trembled gently. “It couldn’t be.”

A few more seconds would prove his thoughts wrong, but when the charr entered in familiar Blood armor alongside another in an almost identical set, his grip tightened. Their eyes met, a shout was given outside, and both intruders drew their weapons as well.

“Cassius Witherpaw.” One spoke,

“Who’s asking?” Cassius hissed back.

“Not asking, we know who you are, it’s hard not to, given your latest achievements.” The other charr spoke, inconvenience in her voice evident. If Cassius had to guess, talking wasn’t her choice in this matter. “We’re just here to talk.”

Cassius didn’t know how to respond, hearing his accomplishment being spoken of in a way that made it feel like an insult baffled him, something he would’ve clawed another man’s eye out for doing not just one year ago.  “Well, go on?”

The other charr, as disinterested as they were, were prepared to deliver a reply, only to look out behind them and immediately step back, but still kept their weapons drawn. Entering before them was a charr carrying a formidable aura to him, wiping down a blade. His dark armor deserving of his rank and fur of many tans and browns were a striking sight to see, and he needed not to be introduced to this man, this was his imperator, Bangar Ruinbringer.

“These two stepped away from me for a second and a devourer decided to try and make me his prey.” He scoffed, stowing his blade, showing none of the apprehension that his comrades did. “It certainly livened up the trip here, you’ve proven to be difficult to follow. I suppose your time with the Order must’ve been worth something.”

Cassius opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. His shock must’ve been evident on his mug with the way the two accompanying charr chuckled to themselves.

“Surprised to see me?” Bangar spoke, pacing back and forward, eyes more curious about the shelter Cassius found for himself rather than the charr he was apparently looking for. “You shouldn’t be, knowing your background, all the clawing, kicking, and screaming you had to do to get this far, even if you had to rely on unfavorable assistance at first, at least his failure brought you to me.”

“I’m-” Cassius sputtered as he was backed into his corner, he felt like a cub once again, ready to hear disparaging remarks from his Primus. “I just don’t understand why you’d come all this way to kill one deserter.”

“Kill?” Bangar halted his pacing. He finally turned to face Cassius, an eyebrow raised. “If I had wanted you killed, I would’ve had it done miles away while I was still handling much more important matters.”

“Brittlepaw, using the name your fellow charr mocked you with since you were a cub, only to replace it with another self-deprecatory name, this time of your choosing.” Bangar crossed his arms. “You went from a lone charr at the bottom of the barrel, to slaying a dragon, something most charr can only dream of. Do you have no sense of self worth, Witherpaw?”

“I… Do our actions not matter more than the person that did them?” Cassius huffed, his blade arm was shaking, he couldn’t rationalize why he even had it raised at all now. “I am nothing but the orders I receive and carry out for the legions.”

With that, Bangar frowned. The imperator approached Cassius and lowered the meager blade he still had raised for him, drawing close to his ear. “You’re wrong, Cassius.”

“If only you could see the potential I do, and if you’d have me, I can begin to help you see it too.”

#gw2 #charr #ttart #oc: cassius witherpaw #bangar ruinbringer #fun fact: this is titled “have you seen this cat?” in my files

[legendaryskyscale]

A few years ago I was researching the Asura, trying to find out more on these gremlins. I remember reading up on Oola and Zinn, and this particular Asura caught my attention

Blimm

I go onto his wiki and start reading up on him. Not much on this guy except he was Oola's former employee and helped the Shining Blade develop a weapon against the Mursaat and what have you

The thing that got me were his quotes

"And I said, "I don't care if you fire me either," because I told her... I told Oola that if she moves my desk one more time, then, then I'm... I'm quitting." "Have you seen my staff?" "I could put... I could put... poison in the green plant dip." "I could set the workshop on fire. I could." "I didn't much like working for Oola. She moved my desk four times, and I told her not to move my desk anymore, and then she moved it into the cellar and stopped paying me. Yeah. I didn't like that." "It's not ok, because if she stole my staff, I'm going to burn her lab down." "Last time Oola had a party, I did not receive a piece of Asuracake, even though I was told I would receive a piece."

And I thought "Hey, he sounds like Milton from Office Space!"

I scroll to the Trivia section, and wouldn't you believe it

This character's meekness, instability, and most of his dialogue are all based on the character Milton Waddams from the 1999 comedy film Office Space.

His quote, "You don't think that...that the cake is a lie do you?" copies the text of a graffito found in the video game, Portal.

Blimm and Zinn were interviewed by Murro in the War Chronicles.

Blimm's fate is featured in the opening chapter of Ghosts of Ascalon.

Man, I love finding these kinds of things when diving into Guild Wars lore

#guild wars #gw2 #guild wars 2 #gw2 asura #gw2asura #Ro's content #i love finding random tidbits and references in this game

[mystery-salad]

The thing about ghosts

Ghosts are a known fact in the world of Tyria. There is no avoiding the prevalence of them, particularly in Orr, Ascalon, and Cantha. They are the results of horrible catastrophes, Abaddon's influence, Zhaitan's terror, the Foefire blast, the Jade Wind, locked forever in the state of living that barely preceded their deaths.

The Domain of the Lost was less known to those still living, until one particular victim who landed there managed to carve a path back to life. There is much that still hasn't been made clear about such a place, but what we do know is definitive. Those who end up in the Domain of the Lost have suffered from traumatic, painful deaths. Deaths awful enough to eradicate the sense of self, scatter it around the domain. What if some pieces lay scattered around the land of the living? Pieces that echo in the place they fell, holding onto the fragmented aspect they show of the person they once were.

The Foefire ghosts in particular hold a tragedy, locked into this moment with magic intended to keep them there, never able to see what became of them, never able to reunite with themselves. Do their lost spirits know what’s become of them, or do they still search for the fragments they’ve lost so they may finally move on to the Mists? Does the king know what he doomed his subjects to?

Who's to say those long dead who you see across Ascalon and Cantha aren't even more lost than we realize.

#gw2 #guild wars 2 #gw2 fan submission #guildwars2 #this has been sitting in my drafts for ages just cause it hasnt felt...finished #so i think its just time to post it as is!

[elder-dragon]

THIEVES AMIRITE

#love me a loveable rogue type lmao #natter #ghosts of ascalon read thru #will i post more?? i d ont know #i just started this book so #no spoilers pls ! i do know he's in game tho but yh

[anghraine]

It's always weird to do a mission where all the Risen are human (or seem to have originally been) and they refer to each other as "brothers" or "sisters" while clearly communicating and comprehending the world around them. Like, I'm sure some of the dialogue is just generic Risen stuff, but I'm always like ... oh. These were real Orrians, weren't they? :(

#someday i'll make a character i can headcanon as actually orrian #there are definitely some ethnically orrian humans around and there's no explanation for why you don't get the option #(in the missing sister choices) #but i guess i could do it with the dead parents backstory that never mentions it #hmmm #but yeah. my undying rage over the charr invasions is mostly focused on ascalon bc of my gw1 experience #but it also definitely encompasses the orrian one too #and i feel bad for the risen in general (irritating as they are to fight in hordes) #but the actual orrian risen having /some/ kind of consciousness and awareness of their surroundings #(where ascalonian ghosts are permanently stuck in the past and it seems in particular locations) #but also that consciousness being perpetually dominated by zhaitan's will and stuck in rotting bodies??? #except sometimes when the body and spirit are literally separated—but most seem to be 'in there' in some capacity #and. what a fate. god. #speaking of which: balthazar does all this shit to fight a different dragon and meanwhile THAT was happening?? #in the most sacred location in tyria????? #dude. you had one job. #anghraine babbles #anghraine's gaming #ascalonian grudgeblog

[the-perfect-wagnerite-again]

Catboys BTFO. Ascalon will rise again!

If by "rise again" you mean their prissy little ghosts will continue to resurrect for the pleasure of the Black Citadel to repeatedly reduce to ectoplasmic goo over and over again for fun, then sure :3

[icebrooding]

I started Ghosts of Ascalon. I would kill for Killeen.

just sobs and cries i love her sm

#text #i have nothing else to do on my trip rn besides read GW2 novels yaaaaay