Guild Wars 2

( And continuing on from part two. I managed to cram everything here up to the end. Special thanks Calliope who inspired this story with her characters [Kar and Vinesta] and to Gasmic for the awesome duels to determine the winner of our fight. Hope you guys enjoyed!)

• Part 1
• Part 2

The young Mesmer slowly began to walk again. Karayan carefully kept his breath coming in a soft, meditative rhythm, inhaling deeply through his nose into the pit of his stomach and exhaling without ever parting his lips. He kept his eyes closed as he walked, turning his attention inward to help narrow his focus on that feeling of fear. At first, like a scent trail, the feeling of fear was faint but came from a distinct direction, but as he got closer he could feel that emotion becoming stronger until he felt he was directly ontop of that source of terror.

Yet when Kar opened his eyes, he found himself in a small circular clearing about fifteen paces wide. He saw no hostages, yet he knew he had to be in the right place.

… Because right in front of him, four centaur warriors were crouched in waiting.
____________________________________________________________________________________

“You know, not all plants are vulnerable to flames. The Eucalyptus, for example, has adapted to actively encourage fires to destroy other competition.”

To Gasmic, the oddest thing about that statement was that it wasn’t Aeoldyn who had said it; his phantasm was speaking as it lunged forward for a second stab. This time the elementalist didn’t dodge away, but flicked his arm forward as if cracking a whip. His fingers and wrist twitched, emitting a static-like noise, before filaments of electricity jerked from his palm. The lightning lashed out, striking the Phantasm in its chest, arms, and face with a thunderous boom. The phantasm didn’t jerk or spasm at all, but as it was struck its leading arm dissipated into a thousand purple sparks right as it’s blade was inches from Gasmic’s neck. Without stumbling, without missing a beat, the one-armed illusion’s sword appeared in its left hand and it slashed upwards to rip Gasmic open from belly to neck. The surprised elementalist jumped back in time to only receive a slight scrape, but the swordsman pressed him with a heavy chop down onto the mage’s skull. He crossed his electrically charged arms up over his head, taking a slight cut for blocking the blade and surging electricity into the phantasm. The illusion froze in place, staring blankly at Gasmic, before lightning jumped out form its mouth and eyes. Fractures raced across its body, and in a flash it fell apart into dissipated ether.
At the same time as the Phantasm had first attacked, Aeoldyn had arm extended and swaying rhythmicly. He was chanting something under his breath, over and over, focusing his thoughts on one core concept. “Obfuscate. Disorient. Confuse. Obfuscate. Disorient…” He continued to repeat this mantra, using his phantasm to buy himself some time.

He almost didn’t notice the roar of flames behind him.

The sylvari dove to the side right before something would’ve slammed into his back. The creature —a vaguely humanoid-shaped entity composed entirely of fire-- barreled forward past Aeoldyn and with one powerful beat of it’s wing-like appendages it pulled up into the sky and looped around to dive at the Mesmer again. Aeoldyn could feel the vines on his wrist writhing in what could almost pass for fear. Sylvari were naturally attuned to the plant life around them, and though Aeoldyn had boasted about some plants actively encouraging fire, his nightmare swords were not made from one of those plants. Worse, the fire elemental was not alone; the ring of fire that caged him had spawned two more. Seeing no real choice, the sylvari watched calmly as the elementals dove for him, firey claws stretched out to rend his face, and at the last possible instant vanished with a psionic chime.

Aeoldyn appeared outside of the ring of fire.
Gasmic, in a flash of lightning, appeared right behind him.

With a quick pivot and twist, Aeoldyn whipped both swords behind him in a vicious double-slash at Gasmic’s chest and abdomen, but the elementalist –his eyes still radiating electricity– blocked both with his daggers yet again. Aeol hadn’t put much strength into the attack, making it easier for him to retract and step in with a double-thrust to Gasmic’s midsection. Gasmic, his grin telling, threw his hands down in a preemptive cross-block, the ring of steel chiming throughout the valley. Aeoldyn vanished. Gasmic vanished. Both reappeared with their arms pumping in a flurry of jabs, crosses, blocks and counters. Unable to help himself, Gasmic started laughing, even while not missing a single block. Nothing the Mesmer threw caught him offguard, and no matter how advanced or deceptive the strike the elementalist always seemed one step ahead of the mesmer.

Aeoldyn just didn’t understand.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Chieftain Ulgar just didn’t understand.

He felt his front leg slam into the center human’s soft chest, he saw his hoof crush an indent right into her collarbone and heard the satisfying crunch of bone. She had gone flying several feet before striking a tree hard, gasping for breath that would not come, and falling into a slump on the ground.
Yet in the time it took him to blink, Vinesta was sitting on his armored back, legs crossed and dangling to one side and casually holding a pistol to the back of his head. There was not a scratch on her body.

“I’ll ask you again. One last time.” She said, her tone both calm and deadly. Ulgar had no idea of the power he was tempting. He was crude and brutish, preferring power and violence over reason. It was the creatures like him that made the world a darker place; regardless of race. Those that would put their own greed and pride over the needs of the ones who look to them for leadership. “Where are the slaves?”

Vinesta’s index finger caressed the tempting trigger of her pistol, the slightest twitch and this villainous brute would be another fragment of the Mists. Licking her lips in anticipation, she almost hoped he’d try to attack her again.
After several tense seconds, Ulgar finally responded. “You kill me, you bring war to your people.” He rumbled, every muscle tense and ready to snap into action. She knew he was stalling, but why? Vinesta cast her thoughts to Karayan.

Have you found them?
There was no answer at first.
Kar?

Karayan could hear her, but to respond would be to break his concentration on the hostages’ emotional echos. The sylvari watched the four centaur as he carefully stalked around the area. Though he could magically muffle the noise of his movements, he could do nothing about the indents his feet made in the grass. Each one of them had their frontlegs bowed and their torsos low to the ground, almost like a sleeping horse, and surprisingly quiet for such large and powerful creatures. They were in what seemed to be a circular formation, and the more Karayan focused, the more he could realize that the hostages were positioned between them, but not in visible sight.

The centaur had buried the humans in a pit underground.

Kar’s fist clenched, frustrated. There was no getting around it, he had to engage the beastmen somehow. He knelt several feet away from them, reaching behind himself to draw his staff into his hands. For most apprentice mesmer, the strain of a cloaking spell –forcing light to pass through his body rather than bounce off of it– would’ve been extremely exhausting after such a long period of time. For Karayan, so adept with this particular spell, the strain began when he had to cloak others. He knew he couldn’t afford a prolonged fight, that any of the hostages could’ve been hurt or worse, so he had to think of a quick and effective strategy: Something creative, yet subtle and worthy of the prestige and grace of his established profession.

A rock cracked into the side of one of the centaur’s heads.

“Hey, skritt-brained horsemen! You missed one!” The attack broke the mohawked mage’s cloaking spell, and he appeared only a few yards away with his arms waving. A big nervous grin was plastered on his face, but even Karayan didn’t expect the sudden speed and ferocity of which the centaur squad rose. With a collective warcry, they charged. Karayan –who had apparently come to the end of his intricate plan– blinked, yelled and ran.

“Karayan? Are you alright? Did you find the-”
“Aaahhh!!!!!!”
“Kar!?”
“I-I’m good, we’re good. It’s all good here! I got this!”

A spear had grazed his head, slicing a bit of his pointed ears and drawing a line of blood along the side of his temple near his eye. Karayan silently cursed himself for letting panic slip into his thoughts. He knew Vinesta would now be worried about him and the sylvari didn’t want to cause her any distractions when dealing with the volatile chieftain. The centaurs were much faster than Karayan, but the sylvari could navigate through tangle of trees as easily as a fish swam through water. Kar deftly leapt over brush, shimmied past clustered trunks and rolling under low hanging branches without ever slowing his pace. So attuned to the plant life around him, the scholar picked the most complicated and difficult path for the centaur to follow. Karayan was able to even tuck his head down, lean forward and run with all speed in a direction opposite of Vinesta. Though one of his invisibility spells had been spent, the mesmer knew of another, all he needed was a moment to draw his torch from one of the many Pockets of Holding in his robes. His improvised plan was starting to come together, and he couldn’t help but smile at his own cleverness as he reached into his robes.
One of the centaur had apparently had enough. Being the closest on Karayan’s heels, he held out one powerful arm in a signal for the others to halt a moment. The beastman reached to one of three javelin strapped behind his back, keeping one eye closed and focused on Karayan. He reared his arm backwards, muscles rippling, and after a small trot the centaur pitched the missile at Mesmer’s back with all his strength.

“Kar, Ulgar is trying to stall which likely means an ambush. Whatever you’re doing, try to be safe”
“I know, I found them. I think they’re holding them in some kind of underground hid-“

The mesmers’ mental communication was cut off by a sudden feedback of blinding pain. Vinesta gasped and recoiled, disoriented from the sudden interruption. Ulgar, sensing an opportunity, wasted no time. He reared up onto his hindlegs for a moment before stamping down hard with his front legs and bucking wildly. Distracted, Vinesta was launched over his head and landed in a roll in front of him, but Ulgar came charging right behind. In one swift motion the chieftain reached with his right arm to grab the hilt of his greataxe and swung it in an overhead chop down like an executioner to split the female in half. Vinesta managed to tuck her legs in and roll backwards over her shoulder as the crashing axe carved an indent where she once lay. Ulgar never stopped his press and was on her in an instant, never giving her a chance to fully get to her feet. He reared again onto his hind legs, roaring rather than neighing as he did, and battered Vinesta with several kicks.

Still somewhat crouched, trying to back up, Vinesta weaved the first flailing kicked, getting clipped on her shoulder and thrown off balance.

She felt the second hoofed foot slam into the side of her head, jarring her and drawing blood.

The third kick snapped up under her chin with the force of a hammer, throwing the concussed human yet again on her back.

Ulgar may not have understood how her magic worked, but even the brute knew well that the scholar would need to concentrate in order to cast. Rather than go for his preferred powerful killing swings, the battle-hardened centaur was sure he had been better off battering her to death. He grinned as she lay there stunned, steam exhaling from his nostrils. The centaur chief would not gloat nor waste any time, taking no chances with this particularly dangerous human.
To Vinesta, the entire world seemed to go in slow motion as she saw the massive centaur’s hoofed foot come stomping down. She only felt the pain for a moment, but worse was the horrible crack of her skull being crushed.

Her body spasmed once, and then Vinesta knew no more.

He never saw it coming.

Karayan Dedria lay face-down in the grass, squirming. His breathing came in labored gasps; every inhaled breath sent waves of agony through his body, and every exhale came with a shudder of pain. He couldn’t feel his right arm, couldn’t even attempt to move it. It took every bit of willpower for him to push himself up and prop onto his left forearm, glancing over in horror to see the gore-covered metal tip of a spear sticking well over ten inches out of the front of his shoulder. The added weight of the weapon made it difficult to move, and too much of sylvari’s golden sap-like blood was pouring from the wound.

The centaurs had impaled him. He was going to die.

If not from blood loss then from the centaurs that were rapidly closing in on him. They were only seconds away, and the young sylvari couldn’t bring himself to focus through the pain. It took everything he had just to keep his breathing steady and not to yell out or fall unconscious from agony. Beside himself with fear, the sylvari prayed. “P-pale tree, forgive me I-…” In that horrible moment, Karayan felt all his short life was wasted. He would never get to see his dream fulfilled, never know love, never make any sort of mark on this planet. Everything he had done up until now suddenly seemed so pointless.

His memories would be recycled into the dream for some other sylvari to succeed beyond him.

No family, few friends. Who would remember him when he was gone?
He could hear distant noises, though they were fuzzy and echoed as the sylvari’s consciousness started to slip. The centaurs were apparently congratulating the one who had made the throw as they approached.

Who would remember him? Whispers agents died everyday. Sylvari, though bonded in a way no other race could ever understand, often lost contact after they left Caledon Forest. Only one face came to mind.

V-v-… Vin.. you … still?

The centaur were almost on him, and Karayan couldn’t even form a coherent thought. He could feel no connection to Vinesta though, wasn’t even sure if he had performed the minor spell properly. Kar felt tears welling in his eyes, both from fear and regret. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He could hear the centaur now, and knew that they were about to breech the tangle of bushes he had fallen behind. “No.. No. No!” Karayan’s heart raced, a slight shock of desperate adrenaline surged through him. Not like this! Not at the hands of laughing beastmen. He searched for something that’d help him at least try to defend himself. A fallen branch, a stone.

And then he saw his torch, lying just out of arms reach.

Three of the centaur had circled back around to resume their guard the prisoners, more afraid of their chieftain catching them away from their post than eager to share in the kill. The javelin thrower, however, wanted a sylvari head as a fine trophy to tie to his belt. He pushed through the shrubbery only to find the mesmer sprawled on the ground and reaching out, despite the obvious pain, for an unlit torch. The beastman paused for a moment to admire his prey’s determination, for Karayan had managed to create a poorly crafted illusion of himself that kept flickering in and out of existence. Both were reaching for the torch, but it was all too obvious which one was real.

Drawing yet another javelin, the centaur casually strolled to the wounded mesmer and spiked his spear into the back of his neck.

His left-arm sideswipe passed just inches over the ducking elementalist’s head. Gasmic easily weaved his following right thrust, grinning in Aeoldyn’s face. Spinning with the motion, Aeoldyn swung both blades low in a slice that’d sever Gasmic’s legs, but the elementalist easily jumped over it.

As Aeoldyn was expecting, and the low swipe was a fake to lead into a double upward chop while Gasmic was helpless in the air.
Except that Gasmic had expected Aeoldyn to expect that, and the elementalist’s foot snapped up faster than Aeoldyn’s blades, crunching his nose and sending the sylvari stumbling back several feet.

“Ha! Didn’t know elementalists could read minds too, huh!?” His last word was smothered under the boom of thunder, as if the sky itself had joined Gasmic in mocking the sylvari . The human lashed out with both arms, sending whips of electrical filaments cracking towards Aeoldyn. Aeoldyn jumped to the side, predictably, and with a subtle adjustment of the elementalist’s fingers the lightning struck the sylvari.

A flash, another boom of thunder, and Aeoldyn was gone.

“Hiding now? Fight like a man!”
“I am a plant.” A clone of Aeoldyn appeared behind Gasmic, stabbing both swords through his back.
“… You know my meaning!” Though he suffered a superficial cut, the mage easily destroyed the clone.

Aeoldyn watched carefully from his concealment, thoroughly unnerved. Gasmic was truly reading his mind? Impossible! Yet every single one of his attacks had been dodged or parried no matter how intricate or advanced the technique. In all his three years of life Aeoldyn was a student of the sword, so much so that oftentimes the Mesmer felt more kinship to warriors than others of his profession. He knew that his knowledge of swordplay was far greater than the elementalist’s yet Gasmic seemed to know his techniques before he even executed them.

… Like a shark.

Aeoldyn’s eyes went wide. It all made sense! Sharks, having organs known as electroreceptors, were not only able to track prey by the electrical signals the brain sends to the body, but could even acutely read those signals to know when and which direction the prey was going to turn during a chase.

Gasmic, attuned to air, was doing the same thing.

That explained why Aeoldyn’s clone, a construct with no central nervous system, could harm the elementalist while Aeoldyn prime could not. His mind was hidden under the safety of his cloaking spell, but the Mesmer knew that would not last long. He had to force Gasmic to switch attunements, and fast.

Seconds after the human had destroyed the first clone behind him –causing it to burst in a swell of dancing ethereal lights– two more illusions appeared in his face, slashing at him wildly. An arcing surge of lightning dispelled them, and Gasmic made certain to keep his focus peeled for when the real Aeoldyn would strike. These clones also burst into scattering chaotic energy, but where two had fallen, four more took their place, charging the elementalist from all sides. Knowing Aeoldyn was getting desperate, Gasmic didn’t mind. The more energy he spent producing clones, the less he’d have to defend himself.

Then he sensed it.

The energy the dying clones were leaving behind was not harmless. Gasmic realized he was breathing in deadly chaotic magic, and could feel the effects of the caustic energy throughout his body. His wounds, instead of closing, were tearing themselves open. His skin felt softer, more vulnerable, and the electricity he was generating was surging weaker and weaker.

And the blasted sylvari would not stop squatting out clones!

Gasmic’s head jerked backwards as the electricity that had been racing through his body jolted out of his eyes. It jumped defensively around him until molding into a spherical barrier around his body. The human crouched low as the clones’ blades raced in, not surprised as each and every one of them were halted by the shocking aura. They’d only be held for a moment, but that was all he needed. The mage snapped up, leaping into the air and coming down with a heavy stomp.

Obfuscate.

Impossibly heavy. As if he were a meteor crashing into the earth, a shockwave rolled through the ground and took all the clones (and a hidden Aeoldyn) from their feet. Gasmic, his face as expressionless as stone, landed in a kneeling position with his daggers plunged firmly into the earth. His head was bowed low and his entire form was stolid as he focused. He could feel the pulse of the earth, the tectonic activity that controlled the planet’s movement, and he called to it. Like a focal point of an earthquake, the ground began to shudder for miles.

Disorient.

Neither Aeoldyn, nor any of his clones could find their footing. The churning earth was relentless, shaking them off the floor and then slamming them hard when they landed. The mesmer cursed, hitting the seizing ground and shaking down to his core. Now would’ve been such a perfect time to stab the impertinent elementalist! He had to settle for the next best thing though, and while laying on his chest on the shaking ground the sylvari pointed one sword towards Gasmic. The elementalist’s focus was absolute, and he continued to build up seismic energy. He couldn’t react in time as the remaining mob of clones made a desperate run towards him. All semblance of realism had flown from these illusions, and they had charged the human with one goal in mind: psionically shredding apart his thought processes.

But Gasmic, a powerful guild leader and veteran Mist warrior, had faced countless mesmer before. As the clones advanced on him, hairline fractures raced from the earth beneath the elementalist’s feet. Large chunks of stone ripped themselves from the ground, orbiting around the human before coalescing onto his skin, forming a solid stone exoskeleton. Aeoldyn’s clones surrounded him, each one of them overloaded with chaotic energy, and though they were illusions and mostly figments of his own imagination, they burst violently all about the human. None of the shattering illusions released any kind of concussive force, yet the shockwaves of energy blew off chunks of Gasmic’s stone armor and sent pain through his head like a dagger being lodged into both his eyes.

But Aeoldyn, who was less than ten paces away and prone, had failed to knock him out.

Gasmic screamed, and slammed his fists down to release all the energy he had built up into a titanic seismic wave. He hadn’t intended to kill Aeoldyn of course, but the massive shockwave had all the force of an avalanche, splitting the ground open and pushing up uneven spires of stone and debris. Dust would fill the sky and the mesmer’s screams were smothered under the roar of the still-shaking planet.

… Atleast, that was what the elementalist intended.

Confuse!

The instant before the human’s fists hit the ground, Aeoldyn thrust his mind into Gasmic’s. His mantra burned into the elementalist’s thoughts and suddenly the mage’s world went white. The mental intrusion only lasted for a moment, but Gasmic had suddenly felt extremely dizzy. Try as he might, in that short amount of time Gasmic couldn’t remember where he was, why he was there, or even what his own name was.

Water. His first clear thought was thinking of water. Why hadn’t he thought of that sooner? Why attune to earth when obviously the smartest move would’ve been the healing waves of the water focus? A quick attunement swap, a refreshing cleanse, and he’d be ready to fight again. Yet when his vision cleared, he was still kneeling, but he was looking down at a blade tucked dangerously under his chin and less than an inch from his throat. Aeoldyn, a master of mental manipulation, smiled before dipping a respectful bow.

“Victory appears to be mine.”
“Tch. Mesmers…”

The centaur stood over Karayan’s corpse, staring at it before glancing at the spear he had used to impale the sylvari.

Why was there no blood?

The beastman bent one powerful foreleg into a kneel in order to examine the body closer, reaching down with a dirty hand to nudge the sylvari in order to make sure it was the real mesmer. A sharp pain spiked through the beast’s spine right before he touched, jolting him to his feet. The horseman yelled, reflexively bucking a savage kick with his hind legs, but came harmlessly high of his attacker. He snapped a glance behind him, but only caught a slight glimpse of the assailant –specifically noticing a strange translucent glow– at the edges of his peripheral vision before it disappeared into the woods. When he looked back at the corpse of Karayan, he saw, to his utmost surprise, what looked like a ghost of slain sylvari standing before him.

“You.. killed.. me.”

The centaur seemed shaken, but not terribly afraid. He took several cautious steps backwards, keeping one of his spears firmly in hand and his attention focused for any surprise attacks. Though he didn’t have the best command of the common tongue, he opened his mouth to speak despite the fear welling up inside of him but the dagger-wielding phantasm cut him off before he got the chance.

“And now.. you will be cursed!”

The phantasm raised one of it’s dual daggers in front of it, pointing the tip of the blade at the defensive centaur’s face. The beastman took several steps back, torn between fighting and running but keeping his focus narrowed on this apparition before him.

Even still, he was completely unprepared when a heavily wounded Karayan Dedria appeared. Clinging to the centaur’s back. On fire.

“Gyaaahh!!!!” The centaur yelled as the flames quickly raced off of Karayan and rolled over the beast, igniting him in a magical purple fire. Set ablaze and blinded by flame, Kar knew that the centaur would soon go wild with agony and fear. He had to take advantage of that, and though he clung to the frantic centaur’s waist with all the strength of his one working arm, fought back tears and waves of nausea from the agonizing pain in his shoulder, he still managed enough focus to push into the centaur’s thoughts and insert one clear, persuasive thought through the whirlwind of emotion that was the centaur’s mind.

“Run”

And so it did. The horseman galloped as fast as its powerful legs would carry it. Though it would’ve been wiser to hit the ground and smother the flames, Karayan’s suggestion seemed perfectly reasonable –and more importantly, perfectly natural– to the frantic beast. The sylvari mentally guided the centaur back into the clearing where its companions waited. Kar felt his consciousness beginning to fade, but bit his lower lip and willed himself awake with the reminder that innocent people were counting on him. He was a Whispers agent, and failure would only damage his and Vinesta’s reputation if not cost them their lives. The centaur burst into the copse where the other beastial slavers were standing guard, scattering it’s surprised companions with its fiery screaming and flailing before stumbling over the superficial dirt mound that covered the hole hiding the captives. It toppled over, only now writhing on the ground and squirming as its skin began to curl and blacken from the biting heat.

Karayan fell right into the hole when the beast toppled. Luck was the only thing that kept the young sylvari from breaking his neck in the crash as he happened to land atop a few of the startled captives. But even though he managed to hold onto his life, he couldn’t hold on to his consciousness.

Surrounded by enemies, Karayan Dedria’s world went black.

Vinesta saw her impending death when the world slowed down.
She saw it because she had to.

The chieftan’s surprise attack had caught her offguard, and even knocked her prone, drawing a trail of blood from her mouth and a nasty wound on her scalp. She knew what would come next, she knew what he would do, and her mind handled the rest.

And so the world slowed down as her death approached, quite literally.

A mesmer’s strongest tool was their imagination. Vinesta’s imagination, so closely tied with her powers and emotions, was stronger than even that of most mesmer. In her mind she felt her bones break, knew the pain, fear, and outrage of being crushed to death by a beast half as intelligent as she was. Everything she imagined was happening two seconds after it occurred in her mind, and so by the time her focus returned to the chieftan, the hoof was already smashing down towards her.

Her heart raced. But the world had slowed.

Two seconds to the chieftain was not the same as two seconds to a mesmer as powerful as Vinesta. The human’s heartrate increased rapidly as adrenaline surged within her. From her perspective, hurt and outraged and denying death as wholeheartedly as she defied Logan Thackery and Queen Jennah, everything around her seemed to slow to a crawl. As time began to distort, two seconds to the chieftan became an hour for Vinesta.

… An hour for her sword to do its deadly work.

Like a painter angry at their canvas, Vinesta lashed out centaur chief. Her blade scraped across his chest in a dozen different places. With a spin and a twist, she jousted her sword through his neck once, than again. A pivot and she severed the leg still crashing down first at the hoof, then at the knee. With little more than a thought, Vinesta summoned her greatsword from the ether and spiked it blade-first into the centaur’s back. The assault went on and on until the woman was lathered in sweat and too exhausted to raise her sword anymore. Her rage had played itself out fully on the centaur, whom now seemed striped in red and was still slowly stamping down on where Vinesta had been.
Chieftan Ulgar knew one second of the most complete and utter agony anyone could ever endure. Every limb had been sliced, every inch of his body showed a wound. The beastman staggered and tipped over as time restored itself.
He was still falling and Vinesta was still panting heavily when she raised her left arm, leveling a pistol to his face.

The human fired. The centaur chief fell to pieces.

Look at you. Falling unconscious like an incompetent…

Every individual word sent a spike of pain through Karayan’s temple. He had only passed out for a second before he was jolted awake by the mental assault. He could see the faces of the captives, and quickly remembered that his job was not yet done. He still had to push just a bit further if he was to complete his mission, though his next spell would surely tax the rest of his strength. Without rising, still lying in the lap of one of the human captives, the sylvari began to chant (which of course made the human squirm with more than a little nervousness).
His chanting was halted by a gasp as one of the centaur glared into the hole and spotted the mesmer. “Hey.. Hey! This one’s still ali-“
The beastman was silenced by a bullet to the head. Karayan could hear the sound of several more gunshot and clamor above him, but barely had the strength to rise. Even still, he couldn’t help but smile at the words that flowed into his mind.

“Karayan are you OK? Can you get the captives out? I’ll take care of the rest of the centaur”

The sylvari nodded, though Vinesta couldn’t know that, and began his chanting again. He didn’t know where he found the strength for his greatest and most exhausting spell, but it wasn’t long before a wave of magic radiated off his body and redirected the light around him and the captives, rendering them all invisible.

Several days of recovery later Karayan found himself again lost in thought at his favorite perch in Caledon forest. All of the captives had been saved and the mission was a success, but the young Mesmer didn’t feel content.

“So.. I have had a thought.” Came a voice from behind him, Karayan blew out a long sigh before speaking, “I don’t think I’ve recovered enough for more of your mockery, Aeoldyn.”

“Maybe, Sprout. It is a good thing I have not come for that, then. I can settle for mocking you behind your back until you are mentally prepared.” Perhaps it was his lighthearted tone, perhaps Karayan was still a bit delirious from blood loss, but the younger sylvari smirked a bit.

“I have realized that… Perhaps I was wrong to so irreverently invade peoples’ minds.”
Karayan quirked an eyebrow, glancing behind him at the elder sylvari.
“I had assumed it made me seem… Sassy.” Aeoldyn was serious, but Karayan stifled a chuckle at that. “Apparently I was incorrect.”
“Yeah.. Pretty off the mark there, Aeoldyn.”
“I realized this after my own mind was.. erm, ‘screwed’ with.”
“I thought that wasn’t possible.”
“It is not. Do not interrupt me further or I may eliminate you.”
“Uh..”
“Anyway. I have come to apologize to you. I had only ever intended on teaching you the value of a guarded mind and emotions but,” Aeoldyn glanced at his swords for a moment, the calling card of the Nightmare Court. “well, I am who I am.”

Karayan stared at the Mesmer for a moment, mouth slightly agape. “You are.. You’re…”
“Apologizing. Yes. Unnecessary pride is a weakness, and I will have none of it if it harms my relationship with my fri- …people who are relevant to me.”
Karayan smiled at Aeoldyn, nodding. “It’s alright.. Your lesson may have saved my life.”

“Of course it did.” Aeoldyn wasn’t even looking at him when he said that, the sylvari was glancing at the fantastic view of the sunset and silently congratulated Karayan’s choice of vistas. “Or would have, eventually. Why are you pensive if your mission was a success?”
Karayan blinked for a moment, and then narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Aeoldyn.
“I did not invade your mind to see what is clearly written on your face. Something troubles you.”

Karayan looked away, a hand reflexively coming up to his wound. “I guess I did alright. But Vinesta could’ve handled that without me, she even had to come help me wh-“
“False.” Aeoldyn stated.
“What?”
“YOU found the captives. YOU distracted the centaur long enough for Vinesta to defeat their chieftain without any of the beasts killing the captives in retaliation. YOUR cleverness saved the day.”
“Tch. You were there watching the whole time. I heard you in my mind you co-“
“False.”
“That.. That’s really annoying.”
“I know” Aeoldyn grinned, “But you are wrong. I arrived in time to see you riding a centaur coated in illusory fire with one arm all the while dripping your precious lifeblood the entire time. It was fascinating, and I would be loath to interrupt your little epic gauntlet. If you had perished in the attempt, I would have intervened afterwards.” Karayan didn’t doubt Aeoldyn’s sincerity, and somehow that made the young sylvari feel a bit better and considerably more proud of his own heroics. “But even then the majority of the work would have been completed by you. Sure you could argue that Vinesta could have taken anyone else and perhaps might have had a more favorable result. But she chose you, even over myself, because you are talented in espionage and while there are few people in the world Vinesta trusts, surely Karayan Dedria ranks among the highest.”

Karayan couldn’t help the grin on his face. For the first time ever, he offered his hand out to Aeoldyn. “Thanks Aeoldyn.”

Aeoldyn didn’t shake his hand, of course. He had always found such an exchange meaningless. Instead he turned around and seemed to simply fall apart into a shower of purple wisps as he departed.

“You will call me Aeol. We are friends, after all.”

ctrl + shift + h for screenshots ;p

That story is really amazing. You really should become a author, you have the talent for it.

You are quite welcome, sensei. I had a lot of fun proofreading and helping with the editing… and agonizing between cliffhangers (was not fun but worth it).