Guild Wars 2

( Again continuing where I left off. If anyone read the “Mesmer vs Elementalist” piece I wrote, this is the full story from where that scene was taken from. That fight scene is edited a bit here, and is weaved directly into the story. As always thanks for the encouragement! Reading the comments brings such a huge smile to my face and a sense of proudness… which is not a real word until now. )
• Part 1
• Part 3

The soft grass always felt nice against his bare skin. The leafy blades against his face, so similar to his own epidermis, made him feel as if Mother was always just a whisper away.

“You WHAT?”
“Karayan and I came to a slight altercation”

Warm rays of light, gifts of the sun, spilled over his body. He didn’t realize, but the rows of crimson leaves that made up the “hair” on his head was slowly starting to bend and twist ever-so-slightly, presenting a wider surface area to drink the light and feeding nutrients into Karayan’s body.

“Altercation!? If I hadn’t opened that portal beneath Kar his head would’ve been split open.”
“Perhaps, but…”
“Perhaps? Aeoldyn he would’ve been killed!”
“Perhaps, but…”
“Aeoldyn!”
“O.K. fine…”

Karayan Dedria’s consciousness returned to him slowly, recounting the battle before he had fainted. He had been meditating, then met Aeoldyn, then the bar, then …

“So, I may have miscalculated slightly.”
“Slightly?”
“I … “
“Admit it, you made a mistake.”
“Erm, I would not call it exactly that. More like I overestimated the sprout.”
“Overestimating is the same as making a mistake Aeol.”
“But it sounds so much better.”
“Don’t joke! Karayan almost died because of this ‘miscalculation’ of yours. Why would you attack him like that anyway? Surely he couldn’t have said anything that agitated someone as composed as yourself into attacking him.”
“…”

Kar could hear the voices, and both of them were familiar. Aeoldyn was nearby, and that thought alone was enough to anger the younger Sylvari, but he kept his frustration in check. The other voice, the melodic tone –Vinesta’s voice- that always carried his thoughts to safe, happy place, was there reprimanding Aeoldyn. If he got to angry, Aeol would hear his thoughts and know he was awake so Karayan kept his eyes closed and listened intently, eager to hear what they had to say.

“So, that’s two mistakes you made.”
“I was not keeping score.”
“… Aeoldyn.”

Karayan could hear an exasperated sigh coming from Aeoldyn. “Fine, yes. I allowed myself to assume that Karayan Dedria was competent enough to cover his teleports under the cloak of a stealthing spell, or even enact an illusionary decoy to throw off his location. When I chased him, I had assumed it was another fabrication of Karayan I had appeared infront of, so I destroyed it.” Aeoldyn explained, nervously running his hands across his thorny ‘hair.’ “As it turns out, I was … wrong.” Aeol made the word ‘wrong’ sound more like a noise someone made when throwing up. “Karayan is not competent. For a Mesmer whose fighting style is based off of running and hiding, he is a sub-par escapist against any decent opponent.”

Again, that flash of anger reverberated through Karayan. Again, he tried to hide it.

“Aeoldyn. First of all, Karayan is a Whispers agent and espionage is his specialty, not combat. Secondly, did you know that you’re terrible at lying to your friends?”
“Yes. That is why I do not collect any.”
“So just admit that Kar-“

Aeoldyn clapped his hands and smiled, cutting Vinesta off. “Oh, look at that! Our sprout has bloomed from the confines of his shattered consciousness.” Karayan felt a sudden knife-like pain in his head, as if someone suddenly jabbed needles into his ears, throat, and eyes. He shot up into a sitting position with a startled yell. “Gah!”

Aeoldyn’s condescending smile greeted him. “Dear Vinesta says that I am odd for not using contractions in my speech. At least I do not wake up shouting like a grawl.” Vinesta was by Karayan’s side in an instant, taking one of his hands into her own deceptively soft hands while helping support his back while he sat up. “Are you alright?” She asked, her tone calming Karayan enough to even draw a slight smile from him. “I’m fine, I ..” A smug voice tickled the back of his thoughts “Rise to your feet with some dignity, sprout. It makes you look weak to have her supporting you like some unwashed infant.” Though he gave no outward signs of hearing the message, Kar did grunt as he pulled himself up. “It was just a little disagreement.” Though her eyes were covered, Vinesta looked concerned as she stood with him. Though her gaze seemed fixed on nothing in particular, Vinesta reached up to feel his newly acquired bandages. “A little disagreement? You fell 30 feet! Even if you fell into a portal, and out onto grass rather than stone it, was a heavy fall.” Karayan gave her a reassured smile and waved it off, “It’s nothing! I had everything under control I-“

Alright, now you are trying too hard.
Both Karayan and Vinesta paused to look at Aeoldyn.

Aeol blinked, curiously. “Oh, apologies, did I project that too loudly?” He said with no real conviction. “Well, I believe you two have ‘Whispers’ business to attend. I will make myself scarce,” He said, and gave a very polite bow to Vinesta. “My dear, even when our meetings are brief it is always a pleasure. I will be in contact.” He glanced up from his bow to throw another smug smirk at Karayan, who narrowed his eyes, and then vanished in a burst of dancing lights that left a high pitched chime echoing in the back of the minds of the other two Mesmer.

Aeoldyn stood nearly motionless out in an empty plain dotted with a few jutting stones and skinny leafless trees. He had a sword in each hand, blades pointed towards the floor, and felt the ethereal purple vines creeping from his wrists and crawling up and along the blade. These Nightmare Vines coated his sword with a toxin that, true to their name, induced nightmares so violent that it made it impossible for the afflicted to sleep. The gray clouds rolled across the sky, threatening of a coming storm, and the wind began to pick up. Aeoldyn, so lost in his thoughts, didn’t care.


“You know what I think? I think you spend 20 hours a day alone and contemplating about life since you have no friends and no one can suffer to be around you for more than five minutes at a time”

The words echoed in his mind, undeniably true.

You study and explore people’s thought processes and invent frivolous philosophies because quite frankly there’s nothing else for you to do!

He felt his grip tighten on his swords, and he inhaled sharply. Aeoldyn always found it interesting that air seemed to have an effect on emotions. People often sighed heavily when feeling down, as if breathing out their sorrows. When surprised, people would gasp as if to sublimate the shock. Laughter, an often-involuntary display of amusement, was achieved in a process eerily similar to the heavy gasps one took when trying to calm themselves from anger.

The mesmer shook his head, he was mentally distracting himself from the real problem. When Karayan had said those words to him, Aeoldyn gave in to anger and had assaulted the younger sylvari, an action that spat on so many of his own beliefs.

“We all see the world through our own personal illusions…” He said outloud, to no one but himself. “We prefer half-truths, so that we may fill the other half with what we would like to believe. When someone throws an undeniable truth at us that clash with our illusion, our first response is frustration.” He said, putting his right sword into a slow rotation to feel its rhythm and balance. It was true that Aeoldyn, like most others, didn’t like being alone often. It was also true that Aeoldyn found himself alone most days because of his own insufferable personality. The second sword fell into a routine behind the first, as Aeol began practicing basic cuts and jabs. “How many of us can barely stand to look at our own reflection in a mirror? Or hear our own voice played back to us? How many personal flaws do we cover up, either with external makeup or internal lies?”

Fully engrossed in his deadly dance, Aeoldyn brought his right arm into an overhead chop, twisting with the motion to roll his trailing sword behind the first. The movement forced him into a slight spin that he ended with a forward thrust of both blades in a more solid stance. “Karayan exposed the flaws I choose not to see in myself. Thus, in a moment of weakness and damaged pride, I attacked him.” He stood calm, staring at his reflection in one of his blades, watching the thorned vines writhe across his hand without cutting them. “In order to erase this flaw, I accept it as truth.” He declared, again to himself. “And I accept that I made a ..” He coughed, “.. mistake.” It was a hard word to say, even to himself, but Aeoldyn never heard the word. A crack of thunder smothered his dialogue, and turned his attention to the sky with a slightly amused smirk.

There was a flash in the puffy gray clouds, soon followed by another burst of thunder. A second flash, a third, and suddenly a crackling light spilled out of the sky. Aeoldyn’s eyes narrowed against the brilliant glare of a ball of lightning racing from the clouds. The electrical bolt seemed to oscilate down towards where he was standing, yet the Sylvari stood perfectly still as he watched. Aeoldyn finally drew his swords when it became clear that the crackling sphere was going to slam into him, but by then it was too close, too fast, and too late.

BOOM!

The ground shook, and the smell of ozone permeated through the air along with wisps of smoke. There was a circular trench four feet into the ground at the point of impact, and inside of it was not Aeoldyn. The mesmer had been blown backwards and lay on the ground nearby, trying in vain to fight his electrical twitching. A human stood inside the crater, steam smoldering from his clothes. His breakneck momentum left him kneeling, and the electrical filaments that jumped from his eyes had them glowing a bright blue. As he stepped out of the crater, he folded his arms at the sight of the prone Mesmer. “Aeoldyn, I know you didn’t call me from the Mist Wars in order to fold over and die like that.”

Aeoldyn’s body fractured, shattering apart like glass yet drifting off into the air like paper. His voice echoed from behind the Elementalist.
“I know you’re busy, and I appreciate that you came, Na-“
“Gasmic.”
Aeoldyn smirked. “Gasmic. Right. Easier to use a nickname and harder for your enemies to catch you, but ‘Gasmic?’ Seriously? Even for a human that is a bit.. erm. Well, I can imagine the Orr jokes.”
Gasmic smirked. With his arms folded and standing so casually with two daggers belted to his pants it was easy to forget how powerful this mage really was. Gasmic was a guild leader of high renown in the Mists, and a fine fighter; so much so that if he hadn’t studied in the arts of illusions, Aeoldyn was certain he would’ve trained under Gasmic. “Yeah, keep makin’ fun, that’ll just make this all the sweeter.” The human replied.

“I hope so. I really need to clear my head.”
“Well, nothing like an Elementalist to wash away cluttered thoughts, right?”

Aeoldyn stared blankly, then drew both swords. “You fight better than you joke.”

Gasmic responded with a grin. He took one slight step forward before pivoting on his heels, an action that made sparks of flame burst from his feet, and suddenly he was jetting towards Aeoldyn on a column of fire. The Mesmer let his right leg slip behind him for a more solid stance, crossing both his swords up in front of him to block the oncoming Elementalist. Right before the two collided, Aeoldyn disappeared in a sudden burst of dancing lights, reappearing right behind the Elementalist and thrusting both swords into his spine.

But Gasmic had anticipated such a move, and with sudden burst of swirling wind he quickly twisted himself around to Aeoldyn’s side. The Mesmer’s sword struck only dissipating flames, and a smirking Gasmic ended his twist with a sudden backflip as the air that maneuvered him suddenly surged beneath his legs and violently expanded between the two combatants, sending Aeoldyn –the real Aeoldyn-flying a dozen feet away. Not one to relinquish an advantage, the Elementalist already had the beginnings of another spell in his mind as he landed, but Aeoldyn was nowhere to be seen. Gasmic smirked, “You think I need my sight to find yo-Arrghh!” His words were interrupted by something sharp stabbing into his ribs. The Elementalist glanced over to see Aeoldyn, or atleast a transparent ghost-like image of Aeoldyn, standing before him with a sword drawn. Gasmic spared a quick glance at his wound, which didn’t seem too deep, and narrowed his eyes at the phantasmal illusion. It clearly wasn’t Aeoldyn, so if he went to attack it he could still be ambushed by the Mesmer, but if he ignored it…

A sudden ringing in his thoughts alerted Gasmic to the true Aeoldyn appearing at his flank, and he brought a dagger in line to intercept the Mesmer’s sidelong slash at his neck. As they clashed the Elementalist noticed Aeoldyn’s free arm pumping in for another stab, and again Gasmic intercepted the attack, leaving the two deadlocked. Gasmic inhaled, as if nervous, and the perceptive Aeoldyn smirked. He twisted his wrist to try and free one of his swords but quickly realized that Gasmic was subtly using magnetism to keep his daggers locked. The sylvari lifted a foot to kick his opponent in the chest, but the human was faster. His inhale drew oxygen down into his body, feeding the flames that roared in his stomach. His exhale blew a steam of fire into the Sylvari’s face! Aeoldyn’s eyes widened, and he leaned back as quickly as he could before finally releasing his disappearing swords and rolling away once the blaze singed the side of his head. Gasmic wouldn’t let him go so easily though. As the phantasmal swordsman lunged in for a second stab, the Elementalist closed his mouth and inhaled sharply through his nose, suddenly ducking underneath the of the Phantasm and stabbing his daggers into the floor. The magical flames that roared in his chest flowed out through the daggers and burst out in a ring between the two, trapping Aeoldyn inside and the Phantasm outside. Aeoldyn smirked, glancing over his shoulder at the fires and pretending that the sweltering heat didn’t bother him.

What he didn’t notice were the humanoid shapes that were forming in the flames.

Now it had all made sense to Karayan. As he perched low in the bushes overseeing a small clearing in the copse of trees, the reason why he had awoken in the Hinterlands rather than Lions Arch all became clear.

Chieftan Ulgar, a centaur leader, stood towering over Vinesta. His massive eight foot frame was ripped with lean muscle on both the tanned human half and the black-furred stallion that made up his torso. The way his battleaxe, permanently stained from hundreds of battles, rested diagonally across his back so easily gave Vin a clue as to how this particular centaur rose to power.

Still, if she was the least bit intimidated she gave no inclination.
“Where are the slaves?”

Though he wore a skull-shaped helmet that obscured the majority of his face, steam shot from his nostrils as Ulgar exhaled. One of his front hooves lapped at the floor, a centaur sign of agitation at her straightforwardness and lack of respect for someone of his stature. His voice was deep and gravelly, uncompromising in his tone.

“Kneel. Then we shall speak.”

Vinesta stared at him, unmoving. Karayan sucked in his breath.
“I will ask you one more time…” The human said, somehow managing to match the centaur’s intensity.

Karayan was torn. He didn’t want to take his eyes off of Ulgar for a moment, certain that any second the centaur could erupt into violence, but that was not why Vinesta had asked him to accompany her. His job was to find and secure the centaurs’ hostages while she kept him distracted with negotiation. It was difficult, but Karayan sheathed himself in a cloaking spell and shuffled away from the scene, more concerned with not disrupting any of the plants than his noise level.

This was Kar’s element, the reason why he was such a valued Whispers agent. Not only was his invisibility spells so absolute that it took an expert disenchanter to locate him, but Karayan’s illusionary talent allowed him to hide not only from sight, but from sound and scent as well. He could ring a bell right next to a dog’s ear and not be heard. The problem was, neither him nor Vin knew where the centaurs kept the hostages and their time was short. Kar could still hear Ulgar’s voice in the distance.

“You will kneel, or you will lose your knees human.” It wasn’t a threat. It was Ulgar’s law.
“And if so, you will lose this one opportunity for more land, better weaponry, and peace for your people. If that matters to you more than pide…”

Ulgar’s hoofed front leg shot up to slam into Vinesta’s chest, slamming her backwards into a tree. The centaur roared loud enough for Kar to feel it in the pit of his stomach. Karayan ran faster, but then came to a stop. His heart was racing, his mind was torn between his duty and his desires. He had to stop and calm himself, so he braced against a tree and closed his eyes for but a moment.

Then he felt it.

“People like to pretend their thoughts are private, but all prominent races are creatures of art. We want to be understood, thus the body language and shift in vocal tone when trying to make a point. The more emotional we become, the harder it is to conceal our thoughts.”

He could sense it. Not coming from himself, Vinesta or the centaur. He could sense…

Fear.

Yet another excellent installment. I look forward to seeing Part 3.

~Selana Firestone