This is the story line of a Charr, as a member of the Iron Legion. I enjoyed the personal story within the game quite a lot. Thus, I decided to elaborate the given skeleton plot by the game and mix in my personal style. I tend to keep things as casual as possible, and of course, enjoyable at the same time. English’s not my first language, and I have about 5 years of experience with the language. Hope you all enjoy. Oh, below is an image of me in game :P
Chapter 1: Fury of the Dead
More than ever, I begin to consider the purpose of war, but no amount of contemplation can serve as my escape from the constant battles flaring around me. As a Charr, my sole existence provides a mere vessel of rage and brute, a slave of perpetual warfare.
But I hate it, I hate being a leader within my warband, I hate seeing my allies throwing their lives into the endless flame of battles. Now, my bandmates are roaring on the battlefield of Smokestead, an area contested due to Ascalonian’s persistent invasion. Once again, I am to throw myself into the blazing fire of war.
Maybe sticking my head out of the carriage would lessen my stress. A light breeze brushes against my muzzle, I cannot help but sneeze. The cold night’s relentless wind cuts through my fur and into my flesh like sharpened blades. I wear a set of light armor, from the Order of Whisper. I used to be an agent, but I screwed up on one mission. It was something I don’t want to remind myself of. Then the smell of gunpowder, the stench of battle creeps up my nostrils. These reasons are more than enough to knock me back into the temporary warmth offered by my personal carriage.
A mirror on the opposite side, I stare into the glass wistfully, enjoying my moment of peace with my arms folded across my chest. A long muzzle, the image presents itself crystal clear. Teeth are ominous and threatening, a darker color than my thick, white fur with occasional stripes of black. I hate it, blood cakes into my fur almost every time I enter a battle. My scarlet eyes gleam as rubies in the dark night, large and alarming. I can pretty much displace my ears and hide my horns to look like a wolf. I have a small build, comparing to most male Charrs, but that’s why I never picked up a sword, dagger, and not even a staff, since I was never the intellectual.
“Mate, we’re not far from Smokestead, sky ahead’s burning.” The driver calls with his light voice.
“Hey,” I sneer, having no other method to sooth my unease soul. “You got a family waiting for you at home?”
He doesn’t reply right away, I suppose my question is odd all by itself. To my surprise, he answers in a soft tone. “Yea, a wife and two kids waiting for the promised victory and my safe return.”
I look down at my dual pistols, wiping them down with a white piece of cloth. I part my muzzle, half laughing. “You know, I became an Engineer only to hope I would be stationed away from the front line, what a disappointment, aye?”
“War is a group effort, one more Charr in the front line doesn’t hurt. Unless you’re God—”
“Don’t give me that god nonsense.” I snarl, the driver is touching a sensitive topic. “Religions are defenders of the weak, gods are for the hopeless and ignorant children.”
He goes quiet, as I expected. I push the curtain that blocks my vision, a barrier between the driver and me. “I’m Gadeleza Darkhaze, from Iron Legion. I don’t mind having a drink with you if I survive this mess.”
He turns and greets me with a crafty grin on his muzzle. “Radin’s the name, member of the Ash Legion, and I would be honored. Godspe—I mean, best of luck in battle.”
I quickly leap from the carriage as it arrives upon the barricade between the outskirt of Smokestead and the town begins to crumble. I’m certain the battle is fierce beyond the stronghold. I drop to my fours and race toward Tosia Domesplitter, the Legionnaire on site.
A cannonball lands on my left, I swiftly somersault to my right. These balls of death hardly harm me, far too large and slow to be ignored. But someone isn’t as fortunate as I am, he lies in a pool of blood not too far from me.
I hurry over to his side, but the moment I take in the number of shrapnels in his armored torso, I sigh with regret.
“You there! What are you doing?!” A feminine, but piercing voice. I stand at attention immediately. “Are you the reinforcement sent by the Black Citadel to escort Tribune Brimstone’s unit?”
“Yes, but this soldier is critically—”
“No excuses! Your warband has already gone ahead of you, hurry up to the front!”
“Yes ma’am.” I glance at the dying Charr by my paws. Disobeying orders is the last thing on my list.
(edited by GluttonyFang.2439)