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terranlloyd · 1 year

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Northward Bound Ch. 1

Arriving in Freyharbor's port, the Coalition found it in ruins. Piers torn to shreds and buildings in horrid shape. The Elemental storms had ravaged much of the port town's docks and left much to be desired. Slowly the Amarylis was maneuvered itself into the one pier that remained in good standing. As the crew began to disembark, the bitter winds of Northrend struck at the heart of Eastcrest's Crew, but there something else was off ... An energy in the air that couldn't be ignored or denied, something wasn't right. The the harbor was empty. Not a ship in sight, no dockworkers, sailors, nor any life to be seen. An odor overtook the crew, the smell of days old fish and moldy bread. Though a welcome was scheduled, Terran and other townsfolk was nowhere to be seen. In the silence all that could be heard is the sound of claw against stonework, and unnatural groaning ...

As the party took off down the pier shapes began to emerge from the shadows within the docks, the arched backs and lanky fur-covered figures of Worgen. Covered in snow-white fur, three Worgen began to stalk towards the party slow as predators, claws poised to attack. Within their eyes was nothing but a feral madness, and their snarling maws drip with innocent blood. And so ensued a long and grueling battle. The Coalition dug in and held their ground against the onslaught of the Worgen, able to evade the brunt of their fangs and keep them at bay. Unfortunately the gnome Bixtink Wobblesprocket was ill prepared for combat and feinted as the battle began! Her valiant construct M.A.O.W. vehemently took a stand against the Worgen in her stead. As a fourth Worgen emerged from the waters below the docks the battle began to turn against the Coalition, claw after claw, fang after fang they fought pushed to their wits end. In time the Worgen saw an opening, charging after the lone Kurtis Radesbery, who had earlier charged off to engage a lone Worgen. Surrounded now Radesbery was forced on the defensive. Cohmnall Dempsey of Oldminster seized the opportunity as the Worgen surrounded Radesbery, Dempsey rallied the Coalition to counter attack the Worgen, putting the first of their number down in the process. Once Radesbery was given the chance to return to the offensive he struck out at the nearest Worgen, cracking its skull and sending it instantly into its death throes, it wildly struck out at all who approached. The remaining Worgen turned to flee but were put down by Velaensia Runereaver, and Cassandra Payne. The final Worgen, barely limping after Cassandra's clean shot to its leg, lunged for Araellion Songheart, taking him by surprise and holding the Mage hostage. Unfortunately, Lord Songheart is not one to be taken lightly, with a burst of abjurative magic the Worgen's head was impacted.

Once free of the Worgen's assault the Coalition regrouped and tended to wounds, exploring the empty docks for clues as to the townsfolk, and Terran's, whereabouts. Within the docks little more was found aside from rotten fish and molded bread, even the Worgen were lonesome in their scavenging. Velaensia Runereaver's exploratory efforts at least bore fruit, discovering the corpse of a stray Ghoul, signifying what may have happened to the city. Once gathered Ms. Payne was called to cleanse what remained of the corpse, to ensure that no plague could emerge from it and cause trouble later. In the name of Elune Moonfire was called down upon the poor Ghoul's corpse, and in the wake of the Moon Mother's cleansing light all that remained was sanctified bone. From there, one path out of the docks remained for them atop a small set of stone stairs the entrance to Freyharbor town proper.

The town itself lay in ruins with the groans growing louder with each step, unmistakable as wild undead. As the Coalition gazed inward to the city, the roads lay distraught, barren with only the occasional corpse of ghoul or townsfolk to be seen. Carts lay knocked over, their contents dispersed throughout the roads. A new scent emerges where the rotten fish once served, the smell of decay, of undeath, and faint Arcane Magic. Far off, barely visible past the buildings was the tell tale glow of Arcane magic, bouncing against the buildings as it lurched into sight. The Coalition set forth into the city, faced with countless wild undead who fell before the Coalition's armaments swiftly. All save one lone Abomination who bombarded towards the party on a warpath. Thanks to the quick action, and solitary fist, of Radesbery, the Abomination was put to rest and the path to the City Hall made clear.

Ahead of the Coalition rounded the final corner and City Hall was brought into view, the clear shining shape of an Arcane barrier surrounded the building, protecting its walls from a Horde of wild undead, ghouls, and zombies, and yet another Abomination all bearing down against the magical bulwark. Once more, Radesbery's intuitive thinking led the Coalition to a unique solution. After a curt return trip to the Amarylis, Ms. Wobblesprocket's mechanical construct M.A.O.W. ferried one of the ship's cannons. With teamwork abound, Radesbery loaded himself into the cannon, Lord Songheart surrounded him in a barrier of Arcane magic, and Ms. Runereaver lit him aflame. Taking careful aim Mr. Dempsey looked towards the horde of undead and fired Radesbery into the crowd. Unfortunately ... the Arcane barrier and flame were unable to sustain themselves through the explosive force of the cannon, and Radesbery was launched directly into the Abomination, killing it, but suffering heavily in the process. Following in hot pursuit the Coalition's forces made swift work of the remaining undead mob, putting them down and protecting the town hall. With the undead defeated sounds of clamoring and shouting from inside city hall were heard ... moments later the Arcane barrier protecting the building began to fizzle, dispersing into the air and vanishing from sight. In the same breath a door swung wide and the clear shape of a living human guardsman waved towards the party, beckoning them inside.

Once inside, Terran revealed that the city had been beset with undead a week prior. The undead forced their way through the city gates, tearing apart all that could be found. The town's local forces were insufficient for such a threat and they were forced back into the city hall with much of the remaining townsfolk. Terran used what magic he could to erect a barrier around the building and they have been trapped inside, surrounded with undead, ever since. Now that the Coalition has arrived they can rest within the Town Hall and lick their wounds before setting out to route the remaining undead, and sealing off the gates ...

(( Pulled from https://www.eastcrest.net ))

#Eastcrest Coalition #Guild Writing #Guild Storyline #mg rp #wow rp

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wheatskers · 1 year

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A quick doodle to capture an idea but Luzon’s spectral magic comes from her dead lover/fellow valiant.

#sylvari #gw2 #guild wars 2 #esp art #keeper luzon #why yes this is another sylvari with dead lover trauma #i will keep doing this storyline to death and people will have to deal with it

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blackjackkent · 9 months

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"That was a bit cryptic, even for you." "I suppose some mursaat habits lasted beyond my ascension."

#gw2 #guild wars 2 #soto #secrets of the obscure #mabon #my gifs #soto spoilers #i am crushing on this guy like you would not freaking believe right now >.<#stupid mursaat with his stupid tragic storyline and stupid liam o'brian voice #and stupid...muscles #“he was kinder than we deserved”#[sob]#also learned a few new gif-ing techniques which i tried out here #i am pretty pleased with how these turned out :O

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disabilityshowdown · 1 year

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[IDs: Taimi is a light skinned asura (a dwarf-like species with large bat ears) with short brown hair and gold eyes. She is dressed in a black and green cybernetic suit. Eli Vance is a black man with a grey beard, wearing a yellow coat, green suit, and black beanie.]

Disabilities: Taimi has a degenerative disease causing chronic pain and limited mobility, Eli is an amputee with a leg prosthetic

#look as the poll runner i gotta let the votes fall where they may #but also taimi is my girl please vote for her #when you meet her she's like 12 and can't walk but like fuck is that gonna stop her from running headfirst into plot #and making the main character constantly have to chase her down to keep her curiosity from getting everyone murdered #but then as she gets older she becomes the tech genius of the group #also her best friend has a terminal illness and his little brother is canonically autistic #so when you meet those two you get a storyline focused on an asura trio where all three of them are disabled #asura are my fave playable race in gw and that story arc was made for me i no longer care about anyone else in this game #wanna pick all three of them up and give them so many hugs #disability showdown #disability described #guild wars 2 #taimi #half life #eli vance #round one

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i-mybrunettelady · 1 year

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Chaos by any other name

Preface: This is a rewrite of a very old Nyra fic from 2021. You can read it here, but I’m sure this version’s much better because it’s 2023 and we evolve over time! This started as a writing exercise for me but I grew invested, somehow was unable to write anything else before I finished this, so I decided to make it a birthday gift for Nyra! Now with upgraded screenshot I haven’t had a chance to post yet. I ended up quite liking the results too. Thusly, I hope you like them too <3

TW: brief mentions of childbirth & death

– 1314 AE

There’s been talk at the parties. There’s always talk at parties, she’s gathered, but it’s never things that interest her. Her mom’s good at it, talking about uninteresting things, especially when they have other nobles over in their estate. Thankfully, they bring their children so Nyra isn’t alone.

Now those are interesting conversations. But one question comes up more often than others - the question of Gods. They’re almost eight, which means one of the Gods will bless them officially. Their gifts are all starting to show. Nyra feels a little out of place sometimes. Hers aren’t here yet and neither is her magic. It’s okay for the magic - it usually comes later, but the gifts? Nyra purses her lips every time her friends ask her about it. She tells them she doesn’t know, because she doesn’t and it makes her skin itch.

Sometimes, she dreams she’s blessed by Balthazar. His war blessings will surely go well with being a soldier and she’s Ascalonian, she will fight. Sometimes, she wishes she could whisper to the trees and find her way around nature more easily than others. And sometimes, only sometimes, she dreams of Lyssa and illusions.

It feels right when she dreams of illusions. But she doesn’t think she has any to make.

One day, they’re walking home from the temple when her mom asks: “Which god do you think blessed you most, Alyssa?”

Nyra turns her head. She’s walking in front of everyone else, tapping her lacy shoes against the pavement. They still don’t ring as hard as her grandfather’s cane. Somehow, the answer’s easy on her lips, very natural, “Lyssa.”

“But you’re no mesmer,” her dad says. He says the word mesmer really funnily in Ascalonian. Maybe she does too, governed by the way her parents speak. “We don’t know what magic you have, if you even have it.” She thinks it sounds a little sad, that last part.

Nyra frowns. “I do,” she says, angrily, “Nobody I know has magic yet!”

Mom walks over and places a gentle hand on Nyra’s shoulder. “Maybe it’s one of Lyssa’s blessings, hiding itself in plain sight,” she muses. “It’ll show itself when the time is right. My little acolyte of Lyssa.”

– 1316 AE

She’s wearing a dress, and an ugly one at that. To be more precise, it’s not that the dress itself is ugly. Its purple ruffles and black lace would look good on someone else, but on her, it seems out of place. Tell that to her mom, though, who looks very good in such fashionable styles and insists her daughters play the part. Even poor Leyiton was roped into dressing up, though he doesn’t have much say in the matter. He’s a small child.

Deborah is also dressed in a fashionable gown, but she wears it more naturally than Alysannyra ever will. It’s only right, after all. She’s third in line for the title. Boring adult talks are in her future. Her sister’s, however, is war. Even at the age of 10, Alysannyra knows she can’t go to war in delicate ruffles.

Besides, she thinks darkly, her name’s too sharp for a dress like this. Alysannyra, a true Ascalonian name. There’s a namesake, a cousin back in Ebonhawke she hasn’t seen yet. She’s never been to Ebonhawke before, let alone the rest of Ascalon. They’re still fighting the charr. Nyra doesn’t feel particularly fitted to have that name. She wants to be like the Krytan kids, to not have the accent someone pointed out that she has recently. Nay-ruh. Simple, easy on the tongue. Deborah says it differently, however: Nee-ra. She’s bothered when they call her Nay-ruh, but she doesn’t feel like Nee-ra either.

She doesn’t feel like Lady Ainsaph, either. That’s what she’s introduced as and that’s what adults use to refer to her. It’s too general, too similar to her mom and sister. Every time she hears it, she swears she feels something in her chest tighten and release. Minister Eldon’s granddaughter is more precise, but there’s also Deborah, so it’s also not her own. Nyra shifts on her feet. Her dress is too big, her name’s too Ascalonian. She doesn’t know what she wants to be called, and her ministerial grandfather towers over her like ruins of Rin.

Nyra uselessly taps her small heels against the Krytan, marble floors.

— 1321 AE

Wind screams on the day of Deborah’s funeral. Its sad wails threaten to overshadow the priest’s voice, even against their best attempts to be louder. Nyra blinks, her eyes are wet with unshed tears and she’s not sure she can blame it on the foul weather.

Her parents cry, voiceless, beside her. Leyiton is stunned into silence. Eldon looks at the empty grave, stone-faced. They’re all short-haired now. As per Ascalonian mourning customs, they all cut their hair off. Nyra, though - or Alysannyra, in its pure, unadulterated, Ascalonian form - isn’t. She’s cut some, but only half. Eldon threatened to cut it all off before the funeral, Nyra refused. She even chose to not tie it back, but allowed it to fall on her shoulders, simple, unadorned, just like the black clothes she’s wearing. Not fully Krytan, with its long, mourning hairstyles, not fully Ascalonian in its scarcity. Caught between two worlds, she chooses her own.

“My sister isn’t dead,” she shouted back at her grandfather. “I won’t mourn for someone who’s not dead!” Still, it didn’t stop her from crying so hard her eyes are now bloodshot. Wind weeps in her ears.

Alysannyra is 15 years old.

At least she knows who she attends as. In the days leading up to the funeral, in the midst of her parents’ pain and her grandfather’s quiet stoicism, she made up her mind to correct anyone who says her name wrong from now on. She’s Nee-ra, the same way Debs said it when she was around. A last remnant of her sister, if she’s truly dead, which Nyra doubts. Hair beats against her face and she blinks again.

It’s only when the priest finishes their rite that Nyra allows herself a sob. Logan Thackeray, her Ascalonian mentor, presses a hand against her shoulder.

– 1325 AE

“Lyss, a question, if I may.”

The night’s quiet and cool. Nyra feels warm, though, even if Trahearne isn’t, thanks to his sylvari body; she’s had a lot of fun exploring it just an hour ago, she can’t really complain. It feels a lot like a good workout, with even residue soreness, and she’s decided to forego the thin blanket on their bed. She rather likes the way he’s looking at her.

“You may. I permit a single question and no more.” She raises her head from the pillow and rests it on her palm. Her elbow digs into the softness of the mattress, shaking gently with her laughter. From up here, he looks very exquisite.

“Is your name deliberate? Is it a purposeful invocation of the goddess or a happy accident?” There’s a note of barely contained excitement in his voice, like he’s been dying to ask her this question for ages now. Of course he’d ask. Not that she minds - they’ve spoken at length about each other’s cultures and customs. He’s answered her many questions (alongside ones about his plant body, which made him laugh and her frown in flustered embarrassment) so now it’s her turn.

In truth, she’s never felt this safe with someone before. Not like this. There’s been Renira and their one aimless hookup, but Nyra’s never let herself forget that Renira is a spy. There’s been Mirka, but she wasn’t quite in love with her. This time, Nyra feels warmth settle in her chest and knows, deep down in her heart, that she now has a soft place to land when it gets tough.

(And it does get tough, battling with your own head. She can tell him and they can sort it out, however. It feels so natural, as if it had always been there.)

“Choose a question to answer,” she replies cheekily, “I said only one!”

“No,” Trahearne says, wiggling on the bed until he too is leaning on his elbow and looking in her eyes. He’s using that scholar voice of his that she finds incredibly endearing. “One is an additional explanation to the other. See, same question, asked twice.”

Nyra stares at him for a moment and then breaks into a wide grin. “Alas, I am beaten!” She says it in the most melodramatic voice known to man and he giggles.

“For my prize,” he begins, feigning consideration, "I demand an answer to my single question.”

“And not the lady? I’m offended. You’re such a scholar!” She shakes her head fondly. “But no, it's not deliberate. I was named after my mother’s cousin, who died in childbirth a year or so before I was born. But maybe her parents named her after the goddess?”

“Is it sacrilegious? To bear the gods’ names?”

“It’s not a usual practice, admittedly. And to tell you honestly, I wouldn’t say it is. But the strangeness of it just somehow feels like a premonition to some people. Like I’m destined to do things they won’t like.”

Suddenly he gets all serious and gently guides her down on the bed. Her breath hitches a little, surprised by the gesture. He then leans down to softly kiss her and she melts against the mattress. She could kiss him all day and not get tired of it. “One Kormir is enough,” he says against her lips and strokes her hair. “You’re not a goddess. You’re my Lyss, no matter how godly your name is.”

Nyra can only kiss him in response.

– 1334 AE

Elandrin refuses to use anything beside her full name, Alysannyra. Not even her surname, as some are wont to do; her name, directly, as if he wants no doubt as to who he’s referring to. She appreciates it, in a weird way. At least he says it with a very accented Ascalonian pronunciation and doesn’t alter it to make it easier to say.

If you hate someone, hate them right, she supposes. That sentiment is why her eyebrows shoot up when she sees him approach, glowing softly in the dying light of day, and why her battle-sore muscles tense. That voice, borderline a shout, gives him away. Elandrin’s always shouting.

“I told Trahearne you’d be back,” he says. “Repeatedly.”

It takes her a moment to register the convoluted compliment. Still, she doesn’t lower her guard. “Thank you, Elandrin,” she replies, trying to be as casual as possible. Elandrin Aien doesn’t just give compliments for no reason.

Maybe she’s not used to being off the battlefield yet, though. It always takes her a moment to regain awareness of that fact. She straightens her back, feeling decidedly off kilter.

“I was just stating the obvious. No need to puff your chest like that, not to me. I know someone who’d be over the moon if you did it, though.” He cackles, grinning at his own joke.

Nyra squints. “That’s between me and him,” she reminds him sharply. “I don’t need you commenting on the state of my and Trahearne’s relationship.”

People pass by, intrigued by the exchange. Many pairs of eyes land on them and Nyra imagines this is somehow a duel in the noble halls of her childhood, but much more personal and a lot less trivial. An audience, she thinks. Great.

“Stop me if you can,” he says and it sounds like a challenge. It’s not something she can turn down, not with this many eyes on them. Then, unexpectedly, his voice loses some of its edge. “Alysannyra.”

Her shoulders relax. “I may just take you up on that,” she replies, surprised by the languid casualness of her tone, “Elandrin.”

Something’s shifted in that exchange of names. Not a syllable mispronounced, not a letter cut short, but a world different to the vitriol her name had on his lips just a year ago, or the aggravation his name held on hers. She doesn’t have the time to inspect that thought, however, because the crowd gathers to greet their hero and they all shout one name, her own.

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aroacehanzawa · 13 days

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didnt asagiri say he had a specific ending in mind for the series since the start? do you think it will pull together in the end?

No i have trust issues with asagiri </3

#i've heard contradictory things bc i also read somewhere based on an interview with him that he kind of makes things up as he goes along #also he retroactively incroporated dead apple into canon when it was originally an anime only storyline primarily created by bones #and if he did in fact plan for everything in the start then he's been doing a sloppy job at writing #because things are hinted at and introduced with no delivery (e.g. agatha christie or the revived guild)#meanwhile a hundred other things are introduced with zero foreshadowing zero buildup and zero narrative basis #to rely on plot twists and shock value and cliffhangers to keep the audience engaged when there is nothing cohesive to look forward to #that's just bad writing and that's why i don't have faith that it will pull together in the end #compare for example attack on titan. which is a series i have mixed opinions about and don't necessarily like the direction it took either #but it similarly has a very different tone a style between the early and later parts of the series. however its ending was clearly planned #in advance and it managed to pull everything together in a way that connection seemingly unrelated plot points #that were hinted at since the very beginning. and that i must applaud

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terendelev · 29 days

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Little heads up, if you have the Pocket Picker achievement in ESO or earn it you can claim the thieves guild dlc for free in the crown store until the 29th of april.

I will try to get it thanks bdhjdks but tbh I wish they gave DB instead of Thieves Guild...

#i never finished thieves guild storyline...

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coldgoldlazarus · 1 year

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Probably a bad take, but IMO at least, original Nearl > Radiant Knight Nearl

#not a reblog #arknights #even setting aside the genuine badness of Near Light #I just feel like the kazimierz storyline #was more interesting to me #before we actually knew anything about it #before the celebrity jousting angle took over #and everything became about the nearls as a family #grani and the knights treasure was a good time #also reminds me #when we used to think the knights were #going out into the countryside harassing people #and hiding behind their title #and platinum's organization actually had something #of an interesting reason to be targeting them #but that got forgotten #so now the assassins guild are just corporate thugs #i like the tired minimum wage platinum memes #so we got something out of the shift #but I still feel like we lost more #i like pinus sylvestris as characters #but I dont like their aesthetic #and while blemishine pulled off the like #fancy ornamental armor look well #i just dont like radiant nearl at all tbh #and that plus her characterization massacre #basically the only horse #who got out of kazimierz unscathed #by being completely disconnected is Meteor #and I hope she stays that way

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swordcoasts · 1 year

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Brynjolf distracting the Riften market by selling NFTs

brynjolf convincing maven black-briar to invest in crypto, bankrupting her

#asks #'if the skyrim thieves guild actually cared about poor people' storyline :(

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alethiometry · 1 year

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eso girlies (gender neutral) feel free to add me i'm @sharkpoops and i have no idea wtf i'm doing

#(ignore the linked blog i grabbed the url bc it's a handle i commonly use elsewhere and now i can @ it in text posts w/o bothering anyone)#i'm just vibing and color-coordinating my armor and doing the ebonheart storyline!#i have a good grasp of how to navigate the world and do quests and stuff but all the extras like crafting/cooking i still don't get #nooooo idea how guilds or any social aspect of the game works #and inventory management is such a pain :(#anyway i'm obsessed with this game it's a complete time suck #charlotte plays eso

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benetnvsch · 7 months

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Cringetober Day 18: Old art Redraw :)

Today's OC is Foxleap (or rather just Fox now aha) !! Literally No One who follows me here would know her and that's fascinating,,, she is from 2014 and that drawing is from 2015. She is named after the warrior cat and ig,, calling her an OC maaay be a stretch, she's my avatar / character from the multiplayer online game paw'd and was def a sona for me at the time !

here's a screenshot of me and some friends in game where im gonna be a sacrifice in this one dungeon lol (love my friends :3 still talk to them/play with them sometimes, nightfall pirates forever lololol!!)

#I could talk forever about this game and its lore I love it so much its so good its like a hidden little gem #paw'd #fox #kite draws #kite's ocs #cringetober #This game literally had fucking everything at it's peak #guilds pvp lore dungeons anime references bosses quests storylines furries-#I mean what-

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sylvarbullet · 10 months

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Curaichd wandered, seemingly blindly, through the trees of the Heart of Maguuma. He had heard it whispering in the back of his mind. His chest felt tight and he just kept walking, as if he knew where to go.

Come to me, child.

He didn’t know who the voice was. He didn’t know why he could hear it. But it made him feel- Cura wasn’t really sure what it made him feel. It was complex. He was scared. There was a voice talking in his head, a voice that wasn’t his, and he seemingly had no control over his body as he walked. But he felt comfort as well, as if this voice would take him home, to where he truly belonged.

He didn't know where he was being drawn to, but he was so high up in the jungle. He crossed over crumbling stone bridges that were covered in moss. He climbed skillfully up thorn-covered vines. He sneaked past large monsters and creatures he had never seen before.

They won’t hurt you, child. Come to me.

Cura took in a shaky breath and kept walking. A rising fear in his chest as he neared the monsters. He jumped suddenly when another sylvari leapt from the bushes to his right. He looked crazed, his golden eyes wide.

“Do you hear it?” The stranger shouted, his voice raised in panic.

“I hear it.” Cura replied gently.

“Don’t listen to it!” The stranger grasped onto the front of Cura’s coat with both hands. “By the Mother, don’t listen!”

Cura was shocked. He blinked at the stranger and tried to escape his grasp. Those golden eyes searched Cura’s own white ones. He saw tears gathering in the stranger’s eyes. Cura stopped trying to pull away from him. “What’s wrong? It’s calling. Shouldn’t we go?”

“No!” The stranger gasped, shaking his head wildly. “No, it wants to use us. It wants to take us and use us.”

“What is it..?” Cura asked softly, he was reeling; confusion and bubbling fear rising in his chest.

“Mordremoth!”

“Mordremoth..?”

“The jungle dragon!”

“Why…” Cura’s voice was so quiet he wasn’t sure he could be heard. “Why can I hear it?”

“It wants to use us.” The stranger said desperately. “It wants to make us its slaves, it wants to make us fight, take over our minds. Turns us into Mordrem. Its minions.”

“How do you know all this?”

Tears welled up in the stranger’s eyes. He dropped to his knees. “My squad is gone. I was here- I was a warden, sent here with others. They heard the call louder than me. They…” His voice cracked and he went silent.

Cura opened his mouth to respond but the loud snarling voice made both Sylvari tense up.

Come. Come to me. Obey. I am your master. I am your reason to thrive. Obey!

The stranger clasped his hands over his ears and let out a wail. “No!”

A wave of panic and cold surged through Cura’s body, he felt weakened and he dropped to the ground as his legs gave out. He gasped for air, his hand clutching at his chest as it tightened. His vision fogged and he screamed. “I won’t!”

#cura #hello im still addicted to Mordy and Sylvari storylines #my characters #guild wars 2 #sylvari

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