#gw2 centaur

[skaald-of-the-hearth-fires]

DoF:RefTE chapter 8 - Elemental

Dreams of Freedom: Reforging the Edge

Chapter eight: Elemental | (AO3 link)

In her chambers, Jennah, Queen of Kryta, paces in worry, hours after midnight, having barely slept. Countess Anise, personal guard of the queen, sits on a luxuriously-upholstered chaise, hands folded demurely, eyes bright and alert, watching.

Jennah had given up trying to come up with some political stratagem to circumvent Minister Caudecus’ scheming. She’d interceded in his argument with Logan’s second-in-command, informing the venerable Minister of her position on the matter, but he would not be moved. She had spent hours with Anise, desk scattered with parchments, calculating favors she is owed from various nobles and how she can gain more - various requests she could concede to, for example - to gain a faction’s support.

Nothing worthwhile had turned up, although Jennah will ensure the law is modified as soon as she can convene the Chamber of Ministers - as soon as daylight if possible.

Caudecus has a lot of influence, but not enough to stop that. Not when Caudecus is so obviously exploiting a loophole - although why he would be so obvious is beyond her. He’s usually far subtler, but of course he and Logan have been at loggerheads since Logan was made Captain five years ago. And he’d been at loggerheads with Logan’s predecessor, Dylan Thackeray, long before that.

Loyal captains are hard to come by. It seems the Thackerays breed them well.

“What if he’s hurt?” Jennah asks Anise for the ten thousandth time as she paces in her chambers.

“Then he will recover,” comes the quiet reply for the ten thousandth time. “Logan is resilient; you know it best of all.”

Jennah returns to pacing. This is no ordinary battle, else Caudecus would not be so blatantly opposing his access to reinforcements. Something important is going on.

“It is beyond conscionable,” Jennah bursts out, “that a Legate Minister should have the power to limit Kryta’s access to military force in a time of danger!”

Logan’s arms groan in protest as he raises his sword. He is warring with bone-deep exhaustion.

“Well said,” Anise says stoically.

Jennah fumes. She doesn’t have the support to oppose Caudecus on a matter of written law. Even now, she cannot risk dividing Kryta. Not on a whim; not on a worry. “What… what if I lose him?” she asks, voice barely above a whisper. She curls up next to Anise on the chaise, slippered feet tucking underneath her for warmth.

Anise wraps her arms around Jennah and remains silent for a long moment. “Then he will fall defending you, and Kryta, and he will have died content.”

“Oh, don’t talk like that!” Jennah cries, burying her face in Anise’s shoulder. “Is there nothing we can do to help?”

“I won’t ‘talk like that,’” Anise says gently, “if you will likewise abstain. Don’t worry - Logan will come to no harm.”

“I cannot help but worry!”

Logan fights exhaustion and sleep and relaxation just as desperately as he fights the centaurs when they come.

“You cannot send help without violating the law of Kryta. If that is a political step you feel secure enough to take…”

Frustration bubbles out of Jennah with a cry. “Oh, Anise, I cannot - !“ and she returns to pacing, up and down in the large room. “What if he’s hurt?” she asks again, plaintively. “He’s out there - fighting - without adequate troops!”

Anise’s lips curve into a rare, gentle smile. “Would you call seven against a dragon champion ‘adequate troops?’”

Logan fights to get moving again, fights with himself and sometimes he doesn’t move when he tells himself to move.

Jennah chuckles softly. “Well - I suppose - when you put it like that - “

“So, will you sleep now? You can do no more good tonight, and will do little tomorrow if you are not rested.”

“Oh, I - I don’t know, Anise. I think not. I don’t think I can rest ‘till I know he is safe. He is in danger, whether or not he has beaten it before.”

“At least lie down,” Anise urges. “Worry in your bed. Dream your dreams of him; perhaps in that you can find peace.”

Jennah reluctantly allows herself to be led to her bed, hung with embroidered drapery and gold, and lies down. She stares up at the canopy. Logan is in mortal danger. He is quite capable, of course, and had pulled out of many similar messes before, but… Jennah cannot shake the feeling of doom and despair that had settled over her.

Logan, at times, faces the oncoming stampede, hands stuck to the hilt of his sword and unable to lift it.

Jennah props herself up on one arm and looks over at Anise. “Anise, do you think - “ She pauses for a moment, struggling with words.

Anise looks at her expectantly.

Jennah opens her mouth again.

She is interrupted by Logan’s voice speaking directly into her mind. His voice is weary and labored, and resignation tinges his tone. I’m sorry… my queen.

Her heart skips a beat. No - no! Logan! He is speaking to her from his heart - as she had once spoken to his in the midst of danger. He can’t have already given up - !

Jennah scrambles and nearly falls out of the bed, sheets tangling about her ankles. Anise looks up in alarm.

“He’s calling to me,” she murmurs. “Logan is calling to me.” She scrambles to her feet, Anise helping her up. Jennah takes a deep breath and regains her composure. “Logan is in trouble. Real trouble.”

Anise’s brow creases and she frowns, confusion marring her features.

“He’s calling to me!” Jennah insists at her friend’s disbelief, glancing around for her scepter. “I have to go! He needs me!”

Comprehension dawns on Anise’s face and she nods. She had been there when Jennah bonded Logan to her. She had been there again when Jennah’s heart had cried out to Logan - and he came and turned the tide of a battle, if not of a war.

Jennah sees her shift from Anise, concerned lady-in-waiting and friend, to Countess Anise, Master Exemplar of the Shining Blade, loyal advisor, bodyguard, and right hand of the queen.

“It is late,” Countess Anise says. “My magic is spent and you are tired. What - ?”

Jennah lifts the royal iron-wrought scepter from its place by the door and turns to her advisor with eyes like steel. He’d come for her. She can do no less. “Take me to the city wall.”

Anise bows her head in acquiescence.

~oOoOo~

Logan can’t make himself move - he just stands there as the centaur throws back its head and bellows a challenge. Logan’s body had shut down. It feels good - like resting while standing up. He can’t move.

His Seraph surge forward and surround the centaur - the lone centaur - and it puts up a serious fight. Logan manages to stumble forward a few steps while the Seraph (and the trio of civilians) batter it down, some of them falling in the process.

Logan can barely stagger two steps forward when two soldiers retreat out of the fray, carrying Lieutenant Francis. Logan grimaces - this is the third time Francis has been taken out of the fight, but at least it seems it’ll be over soon.

The centaur does finally turn and - miraculously - flee the garrison. There are no other centaurs. They’d made it. Logan allows himself to relax.

The ranger and the mesmer are running after the centaur, and some of the less weary Seraph run with them.

Logan slowly drags himself out onto the bridge. He thinks of calling them back, but if they have the energy to run and take down the centaurs’ leader, Logan isn’t going to speak against it. A smile spreads across his face. They’d done it. He’d survived. Shaemoor had survived.

Kryta will stand another day.

Logan checks his injuries - he might have a few broken ribs, from where a centaur had kicked him earlier, but that will heal. It’ll be okay. Everything will be okay. He'll see Jennah again. He'll have his opportunity to make a chance.

The ambient magic stirs like a motionless earthquake - cracks creeping along the ground, but no shaking. No rumble. Just cracks quietly spiderwebbing outward in an ever-growing expanse, like something twining gently across his skin. Logan glances back at the centaur and those following it. He opens his mouth to request its capture, not death. Logan wants to question it closely.

But it is standing on the hilltop beyond the bridge, hands in the air, and surrounded by flying earth and debris... casting a powerful spell. Seraph and the three civilians are clambering up the hill towards it.

Oh, no…

But he can’t quite react to this new threat right away. He’d already relaxed. His body isn’t going to be moving far anytime soon.

The earth circling the centaur suddenly coalesces into two gigantic hands, an elemental rivaling the garrison itself for size, reaching for the sky. The centaur, standing between the two hands, gives one last gesture and topples over. The dangerous whirlwind of flying debris goes on unabated.

Logan heaves a sigh and immediately winces, putting a hand to his chest. The centaur sage’s death means little in the face of this threat, and Logan can only hope his men and the civilians can handle it. He’s useless. That elemental - possibly a greater elemental, although Logan had only ever heard of them - is probably mobile, highly ranged, nigh-indestructible, and with a mind of its own. There can be no retreat from this. Only the garrison stands between it and Divinity's Reach. A chill runs down Logan's back.

They had this up their sleeves? Scrap starving out the city in weeks - those giant hands would batter down the walls in days.

They still might. Even with no centaurs guiding it... Logan's heart races.

One of his soldiers gives a shout of fear upon seeing the greater earth elemental. “By all Six Gods,” she shouts, “what is that thing?”

Logan sets his jaw. Those hands are a threat to Divinity’s Reach, Queen Jennah, and Kryta. It is his duty, and that of every Seraph, to stand between them and destruction. Logan raises his voice - about the only thing he can do - to include all the Seraph in his reply, and speaks with confidence. “That, soldier, is a threat. And we’re going to take it down!”

~oOoOo~

Jennah stares over the rampart of Divinity’s Reach at the distant, square-shaped silhouette of the Shaemoor Garrison… and the shifting, glowing mound beyond it. The wind flaps the queen’s robe about her feet. Jennah has eyes only for the something that is commanding a swirling vortex of ambient magic… right in front of the garrison Logan is defending.

Jennah’s expression firms. There is only one thing she can do. She grips her robe tighter around herself and draws herself up to her full height. “Anise, I’m going to overload it.” She draws out her scepter and holds it at her side, between herself and Anise.

Anise’s eyes widen ever-so-slightly, then nods. She steps up to stand next to Jennah and places her hand over the queen’s on the scepter. Jennah raises her left hand toward the disturbance. Anise raises her right.

Queen Jennah of Kryta summons her magic.

Her palm glows purple.

~oOoOo~

Logan can only stand there as his men hammer on the giant hands of the greater elemental... and the smaller elementals it had spawned.

Logan had failed Kryta in numerous ways tonight, and now he can’t physically move. Kryta's welfare is his responsibility, and here he is on the sidelines not lifting a finger while his men batter on the elemental hand. In fact, he's still forcing one foot after another, trudging toward the conflict.

But none of their efforts seem to harm it. Its sheer size shrugs off all attacks, physical and magical.

At least it isn’t moving - but the capital city of Kryta is in very real danger if it can’t be killed. There has to be some way.

Logan remembers Caithe’s words: everything has a weakness. You just have to find it. He remembers Rytlock roasting devourer tails with his sword. He might never see them again.

No! Logan shakes his head and focuses. He will live, and he won’t see Rytlock again. This elemental has a weakness, and it’s up to him to find it and kill it.

Logan’s magic thrums within his veins. It had been hours since he’d cast a spell. But all his magic is useless if he has no energy to manipulate with it.

Well… I have plenty of energy. It’s just, you know, keeping me alive right now - if barely. Living takes a lot of energy. But if Divinity’s Reach is in danger… if Jennah is in danger…

A purple bolt of magic shoots through the air and spears straight into the elemental’s magical core. It seems to shudder at the impact. The bolt leaves a purple trail behind it, pointing back to…

Divinity’s Reach. Jennah. Only she could cast a spell from this distance, much less cast and hope for it to be effective.

The purple trail hovers in the sky. Hope rises within Logan’s heart just looking at it. His queen is watching. His queen is fighting. Seraph glance up between trading blows with centaurs, only to return quickly to their battles.

The elemental begins to glow from within. Significant power must be pouring into it from that bolt, that purple trail. My queen came, Logan marvels. She came for me! She is his reinforcements in this battle. One of the giant hands begins to shake. The ambient magic quivers violently.

Another bolt soars beside the first, another purple trail. Logan’s eyes light up at the sight. The second hand trembles. The whole elemental is destabilizing. But even two BOOMA’s from a mesmer as powerful as the Krytan Queen - probably with Anise backing her up - are not enough to bring down the elemental.

Purple magic coalesces in the air near the trails. The image of Jennah shimmers into existence, standing in the air and gesturing with an iron-wrought scepter. It is a mesmer clone - insubstantial, unreal, and yet a projection of Jennah’s presence and power onto the battlefield.

Purple magic gathers around the head of the scepter. The illusion slashes. A bolt of magic, glowing so brightly Logan has to shield his eyes, soars out of it and stabs like lightning into the heart of the elemental.

The greater elemental rumbles ominously, glowing with yellow energy. The ambient magic quivers like still water disturbed - ripples circling outward, the site of impact heaving dangerously.

Logan draws a sharp breath at the sight, but the next moment he shouts, “brace yourselves, I think it’s going to explode!”

Even as he speaks, the hand crumples upward into a floating ball of debris. The Seraph barely have time to at the elemental and turn away before the elemental falls thunderously to the ground. A shockwave ripples across the hill, and many soldiers stumble and fall. Huge boulders and other debris roll down the hill, freshly-churned earth falling in chunks.

Seraph shout in alarm. Others scream in pain. Some yell in desperation as their friends fall under the landslide.

Logan cannot move. He tries to step forward to help, but his whole body groans in protest.

The illusion of the queen wavers. Sways. Flickers. Alarm sparks in Logan’s heart.

Then it winks out, along with the streamers of purple. Logan stares upward at where they had been, transfixed; only one thought pounding through his head. Is she alright?

It takes no small amount of power to cast a spell like that, from that distance - Logan remembers the day, five years ago, when she had cast a mighty spell to end a battle, and perhaps a war. Afterward, she had mustered the energy to make a grand proclamation from the top of a tower, and then toppled into Anise’s arms and remained unconscious for days.

Is she alright?

[mistfallengw2]

Guess it's time to expand on this with another "first in-game death turned into backstory"

It is now canon that Lenorey had a close encounter of the unpleasant kind with Draithor the Drill (I forgot he was that strong and I'm still leveling her, welp).

Short story under read more with screens to go along with it [tw: gross "food", implied human meat (and all Draithor-related stuff), written at 1-2am]

_____

The young sylvari wasn't even a yearling when she had stumbled upon the necromancer's lair, following the rumors she had heard during her brief stay at the nearby Black Haven fort. Well, more like overheard, from afar, disturbed by some drunken norn's bellowing, but she did hear the words meat, magic and necromancer, which were all things she had interest in. And so she went, dodging and sneaking past this unknown necromancer's minions after being so rudely attacked when she called for the owner of that lovely cave. Irked by such an unwelcoming welcome, she helped herself to what she felt more pulled towards out of the vials on the tables and the racks of smoked meat -or at least what she could reach and carry, given the average size of the furniture-, then left the place with her consolation loot, settling for a little personal picnic on the nearby hills.

Lenorey had already eaten quite the sort of questionable things in her short life, she was aware of as much in her incessant search and had learned a few important lessons, but while the smaller vials were tasteless or things she had sampled before, that piece of chewy meat was disgusting even to her. It reminded her of the time she took a nibble out of a risen she had found on the side of the road, but not even that left such a foul feeling in her whole body, and not one lasting for so many hours. That was utterly gross. That was new. She had to know.

After her insides and head stopped churning with that weakness, she went back to the cave, and this time something was definitely happening inside. Again, she extended a call and her thanks for the meal as she entered, ready to practice her appeasing skills in order to get to know more about that foul meat and why it made her feel queasy, maybe even apologize and pay him back for the purloined goods. The minions waited in their place, menacing, and a towering figure emerged from the corner, stopping for a moment to grunt before approaching her. Not what she expected, but it sure explained the too-high tables around the lair. This necromancer was a centaur. Lenorey was ecstatic! She had never met one, and she had so many things she wanted to know about the culinary and alchemical traditions of his people, but she barely got past her third question before a thick haze choked the words out of her mouth.

While the sylvari did fall in the thigh-high water of the swamp, she didn't fully lose herself under the toxin, only feeling dizzy and tingly all over as her body relaxed in a sleep-like state. The sudden splash in the water only jolted her a bit out of it, though not enough for her to really keep her eyelids open. Bummer. The centaur grabbed her arm and pulled her up, inspecting her limp body as if she was a discarded doll. Grunting again like the rude thing he was, he uttered something about plant people being useless to his research, then carried her deeper into the cave and tossed her body against something metallic. A cage, not unlike those she had been into before. Again, extremely rude, on top of being unwelcoming and a bad cook.

It didn't take her long to come back to her senses. It wasn't a strong spell to begin with, it had just taken her by surprise and the earlier meal had likely weakened her resistance in some way unknown to her. Another bummer, but she was more concerned with the weird sounds she had heard as she waited out the effects, and she had enough self-preservation instincts to know she didn't want to wait around for him to come back or find out what originated them.

Her frame had been turning more limber lately -or "shriveled" as some of her siblings had more or less worriedly said to her-, but she liked it, because it meant she could squeeze her bark through most narrow spaces with just a little effort, and cage bars were not an exception. To be fair, the door wasn't even closed, but she still opted to slip under the lower bar for the sake of it.

That rude hooved guy was clearly not going to give her any information she wanted, so Lenorey sneaked past the guarding minions, only stopping to disable a pair of them, but curiosity pulled her gaze in his direction. He had his back to her, close to the table she had taken food from, busy chopping something on it. Whatever he had done before that, it was all very bloody and very dripping-from-a-pointy-tool, and it reeked of unsavory necromancy so much that she felt her thorns bristle. Without hesitation, she removed herself from the cave with careful haste, then let her mind fade a bit deeper as she continued on her road. She was not going to find what she was looking for back there, and she already had enough unpalatable things to digest for one day.

[ratasum]

Chief Akykh of the Krulan Tribe of centaurs in the Shiverpeaks. When Qirri had to pick a race to help during her early time with the priory, her tribe is who she chose. Qirri and Akykh are close in age, and were both young at the time. Qirri was able to assist Akykh's people with hostile jotun that were killing their hunters and destroying their homesteads, and in the process she designed a prosthesis for Akykh herself, who had been injured in a jotun raid.

The two have remained close friends, staying in contact even since their journeys took them far apart. Qirri still makes time to stop by and see her whenever she heads up to the Priory, and is usually the one who makes modifications to her leg as she's grown older - and bigger.

Currently, Akykh's tribe works closely with the Durmand Priory to help secure peace with the other centaur tribes across Tyria.

[lynxfrost13]

Sketchy stuff!!

The bottom guy is Maelgywn and he belongs to the kickass @creativebrainrot !! Hope you don’t mind the double tag

[vahingoniloinenlapsi]

More Art Fight attacks

Aildyn

Jay and Zodiac

[the-six-official]

looking forwards to janthir wilds but we need to hope and pray that anet doesn’t make the lowland kodan a shitty racist stereotype like they tend to do 😭

[bluebudgie]

My girlfriend and I are discussing the important question "who of your characters can outrun a centaur" (magic allowed, no mounts)

I pass the question on to you.

[autistic-girl-academic]

probably my favorite running gag in gw2 is the nebulous existence of horses. there are centaurs, and horse-related terms are sometimes used to insult them (pony, nag, etc); the skritt even call them horsefolk. other npcs make references to horses (an ogre talks about taming a bad-tempered horse). there are horse decorations in the human cities. lore mentions an emperor of cantha who died on horseback, and in the Edge of Destiny novel, Logan and Caithe see horses through an asura gate.

but there’s no actual horse models anywhere in the game. the ones that show up during the Lunar New Year events are just skritt in costume; even back in gw1 the ‘horses’ were kirin (kirins?)

anyway i think it would be extra hilarious if we just found a bunch of horses during some upcoming living world episode and everyone reacted the way the cast in avatar did to seeing a regular bear.

“wait, have you never heard of a horse before?” “i mean i’ve heard of them but never seen one, i just assumed they all went...extinct or something”

[spiribia]

they should give the gw2 commander a brief vacation arc where they callback to the personal story structure by having lighthearted little quests specific to the character's player race and i say this specifically because i think there should be a mini arc for humans where you finally get to have a race against a centaur to see if the infamous saying holds any credibility

[brightwingedbat]

You know you gotta love the scope of the racial tutorial quests on gw2

Asura: "Inquest are being bad, and I stop them." Sylvari: "I battle a dream dragon, my destiny." Humans: "I foil a centaur army." Norn: "I kill a great beast and earn glory." Charr: "I kill a ghost that'll come back in a while and fucking lose all but one of my family during it."

[skaald-of-the-hearth-fires]

DoF:RefTE chapter 3 - Holding the Garrison

Dreams of Freedom: Reforging the Edge

Chapter three: Holding the Garrison | (AO3 link)

It is dark - past midnight, Logan estimates, as he ducks more on instinct than sight under a centaur's swing. While the blade is only faintly visible in the darkness, the centaur's hulking form towering above Logan is more easily discernible. It gives away its position further as its hoofs shift on the paveg flagstones at the south gate of the garrison, splashing in puddles that had formed since it started raining. A whistle of steel through air heralds another swing, and Logan ducks that as well, then lunges forward, stabbing into the center of the dark mass he is facing. The centaur shrieks, adding its cries to the din of other noises filling the battlefield - of swords on steel and the screams of Seraph and centaurs (eerily indistinguishable from each other). Logan rips his sword out of the centaur and it falls with a thud to the ground.

Logan lets one of his men take over his position in the line and steps back from the battle to let his magic and energy recover. The fight had been going on for hours (and at some point it had started raining) and the initial thrill of getting back into battle had long since worn off. His arms had ached for a while from swinging his sword - but that had worn off a while back and now he is just numb. Seraph had arrived from the city earlier, supplementing the force at the garrison and promising reinforcements from outlying towns soon, but the battle is long and grueling nonetheless. Where are all these centaurs coming from?

The centaurs’ camp had been barely visible from the southern wall of the garrison even before it started raining, and now it is hidden in the distance. Groups of centaurs periodically emerge out of the mist and rain and charge across the plateau to the garrison’s southern gate. This had been proceeding for hours and shows no sign of stopping. Logan had started watching his expenditure of magic to make sure it lasts through the battle. Centaurs don’t normally behave like this; the centaurs had been outmaneuvering the humans for a millennium. It is almost uncanny - the regularity and size of the waves of centaurs. The only thing more uncanny is that Logan is beginning to think it’s working. More of his men fall with each wave. Those who survive - including himself - are, at this point, nearly exhausted. And thoroughly soaked. Logan pushes wet hair out of his eyes for the umpteenth time.

It’s just an incredibly stupid strategy. Don’t the centaurs value their own people? Far more centaurs had fallen today than Seraph. And yet, Logan is going to have to call reinforcements from the defenses at Shaemoor until the additional forces from Altar Brook Crossing or Claypool arrive. (Which they should have done already…)

The centaurs hadn’t even brought trebuchets. They can’t take the garrison without artillery of some sort. The garrison’s own ballistae are firing regularly from the walls despite the rain. And it’s maddening that an enemy so idiotic could be so effective. Especially with the lives of his men on the line. The Seraph had killed so many more centaurs than Logan thought could be brought this far into Kryta without being noticed that he suspects foul play - but they hadn’t brought trebuchets?

Logan reminds himself that it’s a good thing they didn’t bring trebuchets. Maddening, but certainly preferable to the alternative. He turns back to rejoin the battle, but then Private Amar, the garrison’s scout, arrives from Shaemoor. Amar makes a beeline for Logan, who is nearest to the northern gate. He doesn't look happy.

"Report," Logan barks.

Private Amar is slightly out of breath, but he dutifully responds, "there are centaurs back in Shaemoor, Captain."

Logan blinks, processing, and then his heart sinks horribly. Centaurs in Shaemoor. In the village itself. He stares at Amar with a stricken expression on his face. He doesn't even hear the man's next words - something about swimming the river - there are centaurs in Shaemoor. In Shaemoor!

He hadn't put any safety protocols in place. None. The people are in the streets, getting slaughtered by centaurs. Civilians - defenseless civilians under Logan's protection! His oath as a Seraph Captain - ! His personal promise to them just hours earlier - no!

No! No, this can't happen! I won't let it!

"Captain?"

Logan blinks. He is panting; his mouth had gone dry. "Centaurs... in Shaemoor?" he asks emptily.

"Yes, Captain. Not many - they got past Sergeant Walters' perimeter, but she'll handle them."

Logan swallows thickly. "Send - " no, he can't send aid. His men are hard-pressed as it is. Civilians are dying... dying, and it's my fault... He'd promised them. He'd promised them protection. He hadn't even told them to stay off the streets...

A small voice in the back of his head whispers, I've failed. No. No, that can't be true. One mistake doesn't - Logan can win this battle. He can prevent further casualties. He can -

Logan grips his sword convulsively. He can't do anything. His men here in the garrison need support as well. Where are the reinforcements from Altar Brook Crossing and Claypool? "We need reinforcements," he snaps to no one. Fresh soldiers to fight the centaurs at the garrison, a strong team to clear Shaemoor and get the civilians to safety, a rotation... But his words fall empty. Everyone needs reinforcements right now, and none are to be found. None.

Logan can do nothing about the tragedy going on in the village at this very moment. Nothing. Civilians are dying, cursing his name most likely, dying - how did this happen? I'm Logan Thackeray - I'm - I should have been able to - they shouldn't have gotten past - I should have - how did this happen? How many Six-cursed centaurs are there??

Logan doesn't know. He doesn't know. He just - Dwayna, protect them. Protect the civilians. Protec-

"Captain, what do you want me to do?"

"I - " Logan stops himself. He wants so badly to break down, to say he doesn't know - but he can't. His men need to see his confidence or they'll fall apart. He draws a deep breath, pulling himself together, and huffs it out. Focus. Kormir, guide my sight and my judgment. ...Grenth, have mercy on their souls. To Private Amar, instead of saying give me a minute, Logan says, "wait there, soldier." He needs to figure out what to do. He'd failed. He can't fail. All those deaths - on my hands - Amar comes to attention and salutes, fist to chest, and waits.

Logan turns away from the runner - resists the urge to pinch between his eyes - blinks hard and looks at his troops, still fighting on the southern wall and on the bridge just beyond the gate. His men need him - they're struggling as it is. Dying. Civilians are also dying. Logan pushes that thought aside - he can't let this tragedy stop him. He needs to keep fighting. He has to focus. Grief can come later. It has to. His men need him. Jennah needs him.

Logan turns back to Private Amar in time to see a centaur cleave the man's head open from behind.

Logan reels back in shock, surprise, and dismay, but that doesn’t last long. His battle-trained reflexes kick in and he draws his sword and launches forward, yelling. He slashes at the centaur’s chest, putting it on the defensive. It backs off for a moment.

Logan summons his magic in one hand and grips his sword in the other, facing the centaur as it recovers. Energy drains from his body and pools in his hand. Logan feels the drain more in his heart than his body. He can't le tthem win. Centaurs - Caudecus - anyone. His heart feels like lead. He can't - he can't - he can't let them win. The energy glows a bright blue from the magic in it - a symbol of intimidation of enemies and encouragement of allies.

The sign of a guardian.

Logan will protect his people, his country, and his queen. So help him, he can't do otherwise. They need him - and Logan Thackeray will always respond to their call. He faces off with the centaur for a long moment, both standing there, neither moving - centaur sizing him up, hefting a large battleaxe, and Logan standing firmly, blue magic glowing brightly in one hand and sword clasped firmly in the other, waiting. This centaur must have come through the northern gate, from Shaemoor. Logan hears the Seraph behind him engaging with another centaur - and then his opponent charges. Logan sweeps his energy into the hilt of his sword. Clasping the blade in both hands, he ducks under the centaur’s swing. He slashes the centaur’s chest again, with force. He uses magic to push the energy down the length of the swor. The energy explodes with fiery heat in the centaur’s chest.

The centaur rears back with a roar. Logan takes a step back and adjusts his grip on his blade. Then he steps forward again, and sinks his blade into the centaur’s side. Logan considers casting another spell, but the centaur gives one last scream and collapses.

Logan steps back, drawing his sword after him, and glances around. The other centaur had been defeated, but Logan eyes the northern gate wearily. Now they have to fight on two fronts.

Lieutenant Francis - one of his most useful officers so far in this battle - hurries toward him. “Are you alright, Captain?”

“Yes. But get someone to do something with Amar’s body. He fell in service to the queen.” Logan sighs and turns to Francis. “The centaurs haven’t beaten us down, and, by Grenth, I won’t let them. But we just lost our fastest runner, and there are centaurs in the village.” Logan can't think about the civilians. He has to focus on the queen and the battle.

“Wasn’t Sergeant Walters supposed to be holding a perimeter in Shaemoor?” Lieutenant Francis asks with a frown.

“Yes, but Amar said centaurs were already there, and Walters is apparently having trouble containing them.” She needs aid more than the garrison does… Logan squashes the thought down. He can't worry about that right now.

Lieutenant Francis looks worried. “If the garrison falls, we’ll have to retreat to Divinity’s Reach.”

“It’ll just have to not fall, then,” Logan says grimly, hoisting his sword. There's not much other choice - reinforcements will come when they come, and all he can do is keep fighting, keep inspiring, keep the centaurs away from Divinity's Reach. This is the last defense. It will hold. Logan won't countenance any other outcome. “We’ll keep an eye on the northern gate in case any more centaurs come. ”

“Where are they all coming from?” Francis asks in frustration. “They just keep coming!”

Logan grimaces. “Balthazar only knows,” he sighs, and scowls at the southern gate where the men are fighting. “But it should be discoverable. Centaurs aren’t overly good at covering their tracks.”

“Small mercies,” Francis grunts. “Doesn’t help now, though.”

“Oh, it doesn’t,” Logan assures him. “But know that whatever miracle the centaurs pulled off to get here, I will make sure it doesn't happen again." He hefts his sword. "Half of that involves finding and plugging whatever weakness they’ve exploited. The other half involves beating them soundly here and now.” With that, he turns and marches back toward the front line, Lieutenant Francis following behind.

But the fight is not going well. The Seraph soldiers at the south gate brighten a little as their leader joins them, and a medic calls for Logan to use his guardian magic to staunch a near-death injury, but the centaurs keep coming. The rain continues coming down in torrents, and the moon and stars are obscured by the clouds. Light comes from magical flames, but Logan comes to resent the magic it takes from his spellcasters. Some of his soldiers are fighting through injuries that Logan can’t spare the magic to heal. Other soldiers fall with grave injuries that absolutely must be healed, and others take injuries severe enough to take them off the battlefield, but still too light to waste magical energy on.

More soldiers die in combat. The Seraph force is shrinking, and the flow of centaurs doesn’t look like stopping anytime soon. It takes all of Logan’s strength to project an image of confidence to his men as he goes about, fighting, healing, encouraging, rejuvenating, defending. The blue flashes that accompany his magic are a light source themselves, if not very bright through the rain - but more importantly, they bring hope to his men. They perk up, and fight better, and are heartened when they see the blue of the guardian magic. They are defending Kryta. Logan carefully rations his magic so it lasts through the battle.

Periodically, centaurs come through the northern gate behind them; and as the night draws on (or turns to early morning?) they become more frequent. Logan posts a few soldiers to watch the gate. Maybe they can get a little break from the fighting. If he sets up a rotation… Logan shakes his head. Focus. This isn’t significant enough to help. Still no reinforcements had come from Altar Brook Crossing or Claypool.

The centaurs keep coming. Seraph soldiers fall, or are sent to the medics along the garrison’s north wall - no longer quite safe, of course, but nowhere is safe in a military garrison or an active battlefield. But the gate holds against the southern assault, and Shaemoor Garrison does not look like it will fall just yet.

Hopefully it can hold out until reinforcements come.

[vampiricsheep]

I'm still chewing on what gw2 Winter was before it was sylvari*. Options i like include centaur, charr (iffy about this one but it works for the body plan and it's not like theyre a monolith) or human (were there other groups out and about and prominent 80 years ago that aren't asura or norn)?

*it's a whole thing. The vampirism is partially bc it was a blood magic specialist in life and it doesnt really have...blood of its own anymore, and partially because it's not stable without any mammal essence since it was converted before mordremoth had death magic. There was no dream of dreams to incorporate its essence into a pod-grown organic minion; its literal actual body was overgrown and over time even its original bones have been eaten away.

[ascalonianlightbringer]

I was thinking about which Guild Wars 2 faction I feel the worst about killing in massive numbers, and figured I'd turn the question over to the people! I included brief summations for non-GW2 people.

[archesa]

have 1, 6, 13, and 15 from the gw2 asks for anwen, if you’d like! :) @kerra-and-company

Thanks for the ask 💜 I'm also working on your pens, promise! 🖊️ Time for Anwen loving-hours💙

Your character is now the leader of their species, whatever that looks like for them (Arcane Council member, Imperator, Royalty, etc). How do they govern and what sorts of changes would they make if any?

Oh would she not make a resplendent queen? 🥰

As a successor to Salma's line, she'd probably have to prove herself over and over again. Sure, she has a reputation, as a viscountess and as the Commander, but she is not exactly beloved by her fellow nobles and she's made a few enemies amongst the ministers.

So the first few months / years of her reign would be very hard on the Shining Blade's nerves, for as Queen, Anwen would endeavour to purge the corruption in her government, and install a strong parliament, with representatives of every trade, every social class, every village and settlement in Kryta, to discuss and decide on the politics within her borders.

She would personally take great joy in working on foreign affairs, especially considering that she's on first-name basis with more than half of the rulers of the world.

And she'd be very adamant about Orr keeping her independence.

They're now a heart NPC/part of a string of quests. What does that involve?

Help Anwen Evergreen tend to Caer Aval :

Defend the garden plots against Risen threats, prune the fire orchids before they invade the greenhouses, use seed pouches to grow new plants, bring aid to the stranded botanists.

What is the worst/funniest/dumbest article that could be written about them in Tyria's trashiest gossip mag?

Let's start with worst! Since Anwen's got a... reputation in Divinity's Reach... She's probably rumoured to be a brute (defenestration of a suitor, breaking and entering a minister's property with the Seraph, killing said minister in trial by combat, killing Zhaitan, leaving a trail of embers in her wake through the Heart of Maguuma, slamming the door of the Pact... etc.) and some people would tend to vilify her less than dainty appearance. She's strong, tall, bulky with robust shoulders and big thighs, and overall does not care about her appearance as much as would be expected from a Lady. So the most mean-spirited slander-sheet will gladly publish something along this line :

Centaur-face menace is back in ton!

As for the trashiest...

The Commander's stretching routine! (It works!)

What is their favorite and least favorite part of being the commander (or whatever role they play in your canon)?

Not that she'd admit it but... she enjoys being in charge. Preparing an assault and seeing it go perfectly according to the plan, working on the supply lines so the soldiers are well fed, well armed, well healed, and the civilian populations won't suffer too greatly from the tragic events at hand. Providing hope when there is not much to be found.

Her least favorite part, of course, is being the one to shoulder all the blame when things go awry, and the difficult decisions that are the burden of leaders. Announcing their loved ones that soldiers lives were lost. Sending an unit to certain death to further the advance of another so they would gain some ground and hope one day to secure complete victory. The necessary sacrifices have always felt bitter. And no longer being in charge of the Pact felt like a relief because neither her not Trahearne would have to live with the consequences of such decisions. (or so they thought)

The decisions she has to make as Aurene's Champion are... different. They feel different. But the price to pay for one mistake is higher than ever. The people who die, who sacrifice for their cause are no longer distant faces in a crowd and names on casualties report. They're friends, and siblings, and mentors, and innocents...

They're Vlast. They're Blish. They're Soo Won.

[commanderjuni]

the urge to make like. non-playable race ocs for gw2 is so so compelling. i ESPECIALLY want to make a krait those guys are so weird and fun to me

i'd also like making a grawl... maybe a centaur! :] the other races in tyria are so cool it makes me sad how they're treated like they're "lesser" all because they're sorta. Hostile Mob Guys but in-world the way they're treated is sad too

[the-six-official]

big fan of human lore in gw2 but the centaur stuff makes me feel Weird