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alta1r1an · 9 months

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What it means to care

Also known as Altair does a write!

I finished this one up a while ago, but never got around to posting it. So here we are now!

Contains some mentions of @commanderhorncleaver 's Gaius!

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Surrounded by the autumnal gloom of Ascalon, a lone Charr stakes out a hidden seperatist base. Raevik had fed the information of its location to a blood warband nearby a few days ago. Now he was just waiting for them to start their assault so he could sneak in during the commotion.

Much to Raevik's irritation, one of the bloodies got themselves caught by these same seperatists a few days earlier. It would be inconsequantial, if it did not cause the seperatists to be on higher alert than they already were.

From up in his perch in a tree, the Charr watched the little humans scurry around like ants. Unaware of the havoc about to be rained down upon them. There were more guards posted around the central tent than usual. Raevik saw them take their captive in there, a Charr named... Artik Lovestruck (if Raevik's memory served him correctly).

He's been listening to Artik's pained cries ever since they caught the Charr. The seperatist's attempts to extract information were amateuristic in Raevik's eyes. But also to Artik's credit he has kept himself strong despite his circumstances.

Raevik's musings were interrupted when he heard shouts coming from the outer guards. It seems his distraction had arrived. He waited patiently for his moment, staying hidden for now. With usual blood legion brutality the warband cut through the guard and into the camp, scattering the seperatists and thrashing all they could find.

With a breath to steel his senses, emotion giving way to grim determination, Raevik hopped down from his hiding place onto a human that was bolting away from the fight.

Dead on impact. Attempt to alert others thwarted.

Rolling through his fall, he converted his momentum into a leap onto a seperatist rifleman that had not spotted him yet. Grabbing the unaware human from behind, his dagger sliced through their throat.

Dead. Continue to target. Plans must be in one of these tents

Raevik had been spotted by another rifleman standing a few steps away. A deft paw swiped a throwing dagger from his belt, and with practiced precision launched it at the human. It struck true in the rifler's arm. Forcing them to drop their weapon.

Incapacitated. Fast acting poison. Death inevitable. Continue

He continues through the camp this way. Eliminating seperatists he encounters along the way, keeping the attention on him minimal while searching the tents for his objective.

None of the tents had anything he was looking for. Some of them had a concerning amount of goldclaw books involving Charr protagonists in them for a seperatist. Others made Raevik wonder how a Human would need this much underwear.

Eventually Raevik's search brought him to the main tent.

Should have checked here first. Obvious. Extra watch inconvenient.

What Raevik hadn’t considered was that the blood warband would be more efficient than he had expected, and their mayhem had drawn away most of them. An opening for a Charr like Raevik, who was mentally facepalming at failing to have spotted this.

Sneaking in, Raevik does a quick scan of the tent. It's a large tent with a wide open space. There is some furniture around indicating longer residence.

Raevik lets his eyes wander across, taking note of every thing. Bed. Cabinet. Desk, appears to be recently used. Divider flap hiding a back section.

The desk seemed like a good place to start, and to Raevik's satisfaction it was. The seperatists were always sloppy, and this time they were aswell. Laid out on the desk were maps marked with seperatist movement, Communications with other seperatist groups, and highly detailed plans. Raevik allowed himself a moment's satisfaction. His Legion would be very pleased with all of this knowledge he's about to swipe.

Raevik's ear twitches as he heard the sound of a human approaching quickly. Closing his eyes, he focused to listen intently. Among the racket of seperatists and Charr fighting he managed to make out a single human calling to his allies: “Cover me! I'll secure the plans so that we can get out of here!”

Short on time

Raevik hurried to secure the very same plans that the human just mentioned. He moved to leave through the escape route he had planned out beforehand, but was stopped when he heard a noise. It was a soft groan coming from behind the divider to the back section.

Must be the warband's lost mate. Unlikely the Seperatist will leave him alive. Not relevant to my current objective. Leave now to remain undetected

Normally Raevik would value his objective above everything. He was supposed to get in and out without anyone ever seeing him, and Artik was the perfect cover. His death was irrelevant as long as Raevik managed to secure what his legion wanted.

But no matter how he tried, he could not get himself to start running. Because, despite how well trained he was to always do what is expected with no regard for how it's done, he could not stop thinking of some conversation he had had just this month with his sire.

It had been a discussion on operation standards, He forgot what brought it on. The main point was that Raevik did not understand why Gaius was so intent on risking a goal just to stop and help someone. It was the exact opposite of how he approached things.

"Folk remember when aid comes their way, cub. Sometimes things are... harder to weigh. But no life is dispensable." Was what Horncleaver had said when he asked why. At the time Raevik challenged it, stating that anything was easily weighed against the interest of the Legion.

The look Gaius gave him at that was complicated. It was a mix between not quite dissapointment and a quiet sadness. He just sighed, and said: "this is advice from a commanding officer: I would sacrifice the mission for the sake of you. For the sake of your warband. An objective is important, and losses will happen, but whenever possible, helping those who need it is what we ought to prioritize."

It hadn't quite resonated at the time. Or so he thought. Because here he found himself having to choose between making a clean exit, or helping Lovestruck. A Charr who was not someone who meant anything to him.

“Burn me, Old man... this was so simple before”

With his mind made up, Raevik rushed for the back section of the tent. Inside he found Artik who certainly had seen better days. Patches of his fur were littered with bruises and scab, other pieces were matted with dried blood entirely. The only thing they had left him was the tattered remains of his loincloth.

Artik's dreary eyes found him quickly but did not show any sign of recognition. Artik was likely exhausted from his days of captivity. Luckily for Raevik this meant that he could easily cut him loose without potentially scaring him.

“whozit.. Huh.. Yer not a stinkin human” he wearily uttered.

Raevik huffed, not used to dealing with the rescue part of an assignment. “Keen eye, cooperate with me and we might both get out of here alive”

Hoisting one arm over his shoulder, Raevik started carrying Artik out of the tent. Which was made rather difficult by their difference in height and the fact that Artik was dragging his paws.

Raevik dispatched of two seperatists that had retreated back to the tent he was now dragging Artik out of. Likely they were coming to kill the Charr before his warband could reach him.

Raevik glanced around the place. Mentally going over what he knew and what was originally his plan.

Escape route compromised. No plan for rescue. Blood legion assistance available.

As much as his ash sensibilities objected to it. His best shot right now was to move him and Artik towards the conflict happening at the entrance and hope the bloodies got the point.

Raevik basically dragged Artik through. Most of the seperatists were trying to swarm the warband, leaving no sentries to halt Raevik. Finding the entrance was easy, only had to follow the sound of havoc.

Typical blood legion. No finesse. Hit things good though.

The fight was taking place on a ramp into the area the separatists built their base flanked by two small ledges. Raevik caught a seperatist sniper trying to sneak up one of those ledges. He left Artik in cover of a small brush, tracking the sniper all the while.

Raevik focused, letting his footpaw slide backwards into the shadow cast by his body. Breathe in the shadow crept up from its place on the floor and crawled around his ankle. Breathe out the tethers of shadows were forcefully stretched to meet the shadow of the sniper.

Letting himself get pulled in through the shadow always felt like letting himself fall backwards. The shadowy tendrils shot forward as he travelled along the shadow. Entering through his own, and exiting at the shadow of his target. Letting his momentum carry him, he pulls his dagger and sinks it into the human's throat. The human falls to the ground, dead or at least soon to be.

From his vantage point he continued to observe the skirmish, he hadn’t been noticed yet. One seperatist had found his way behind one of the blood legion soldiers. They were gearing up to exploit the flank, Raevik pulled one of his throwing daggers and expertly took him down. The sudden execution did however alert the warband to his presence.

He gave a lazy wave to the soldier looking up at him, and then nodded his head towards Artik before letting the shadows carry him back to where he left Artik. A few of the blood warband had made their way over while Raevik was busy picking Artik back up. They take Artik of his paws, blood legion brawn being way better suited for that particular task.

A female Charr, likely the Legionnaire Raevik thought, put her paws to her mouth to enhance her voice and shouted.

“Warband! Seems we’ve had a helping paw! We got what we came for, lets break some stuff on our way out!”

And break things they did. Raevik had to admit, the bloodies’ tendency to revel in carnage wasn't too disagreeable. The buzzing feeling itching under his fur as he participated in breaking seperatist supplies under the enthusiastic shouting of an entire warband was actually quite pleasant even.

All good things come to an end however, and eventually even a blood warband will run out of energy to smash. Raevik accompanies them back to the site they were camping out at. If he was going to put effort into saving a Charr he was going to make sure he did not stupidly die of his injuries after.

He did, however, fail at leaving quietly after this task was complete. The warband was quite insistent that he join them for their celebration on a job well done. Raevik was used to getting a mission done, delivering his report and then preparing for the next.

With the bloodies however... They started out with Flasks of Firewater. Several flasks actually, Raevik was doing his best to keep up, but he wasn't well practiced at this kind of drinking. He spends the rest of the night mingling with the warband. Every once in a while having a bottle of bloodwhiskey put to his mouth.

Though his usual disposition was not inclined to this kind of social affair, the alcohol was making it something he was rather willing to try. Eventually however he does retreat from the celebration a little bit. Taking a seat just a bit away from the main event, deciding to people watch.

It is a mix of the warband sparring with eachother, excitedly talking, or a group of them trying to outdo eachother with how many shots of firewater they can take. A little bit further however, Artik was resting against a log. He was not alone, next to him was one of the men of the warband.

Zevre Hatestruck. Introduced himself after the fight. Was notably excessive in expressing his gratitude

Looking closer, Raevik noted that the two of them were sitting closer than what was usual for two Charr who were just friendly. Even with Blood legion's more physical nature. His observations get spelled out for him when Zevre crawls over Artik and stradles him. Hugging turns into them nuzzling to kissing-

I should not be watching this

He pulled his eyes away when he saw Artik's paw sneak its way under his lover's tunic. He allowed himself a moment's repose, sitting back and closing his eyes. Letting the pleasant buzz of his intoxication mix with the sounds of the revelling warband. It wasn't what he was used to, and certainly not what he thrived under but right now it was nice.

There was something else however. Raevik recognized it as satisfaction, but it was warmer. It was odd to him. Why is this different from just doing his usual work? The answer came to him when he thought of his sire's words. Helping those who need it. It is always an objective, not because it was in the interest of his legion but because he wanted to. Because he is sure that it would make Horncleaver proud, like he is sure that Zevre and Artik will make use of the time they would have otherwise lost.

Raevik falls asleep like that, and when morning comes with it comes a killer headache. He manages to open his eyes with a groan, seeing a few of the warband's members already up and about. One of them had left a water bottle out for him which he happily took.

Destination is two days out. Report expected in four days.

Before he could slip away however one of the bloodies noticed he was up and he got dragged into sharing breakfast with them. With his current hangover he did not feel the need to argue. He stayed out of the, albeit subdued, rowdy socializing. His ash sensibilities not very compatible without alcohol acting as an interface.

Finally, breakfast ended and the time came for him to leave. He did one last check of his belongings, and finding that he wasn't missing anything he set off to leave. He made it to the edge before Artik and Zevre intercepted him.

“Oi, Flowscryer” Zevre spoke, louder than Raevik thought pleasant right now.

Everything about them is loud. How do they ever enjoy the quiet?

"Ya just sneaking off now? S that what they teach you in the fahrar about enjoying a warband's hospitality?”

Raevik snorts, he deadpans in retort. “As a matter of fact they do, ash legion fahrar you know”

Artik chuckled. Zevre initially looked less amused but fondly rolled his eyes with a laugh when he heard his companion-No, mate-laugh.

Artik took over. “Well the both of us are real grateful. And we know we already dragged you off to a celebration and all but we were wonderin... if you'd feel like joining us for a private celebration? In our quarters?”

Raevik blinked, not entirely expecting this offer. Zevre was currently eyeing him up with a grin. He brought up his planning in his head. If he traveled now, it would leave him three buffer days to run odd jobs for the legion. If he recalled correctly (and his memory was very hazy) the Legionnaire mentioned where they were stationed the night before. Taking them up on their offer would mean he lost a day.

Frivolous activity. I already participated in a celebration. Unneeded travel. Horncleaver would've said yes.

…

Horncleaver would've said yes.

Raevik looks between the two charr. Then he looks the both of them over, they both look agreeable to Raevik's tastes. He tilts his head at them, and the corners of his mouth turn up slightly.

“I've been told recently that I need more fun. I think I'll take the two of you up on that.”

In response, the mated pair whooped and high fived eachother. Excitedly moving to either side of Raevik as they walked down the path, down to another new experience for a certain ash operative.

#Raevik Flowscryer #Altair's writing #do I even have a tag for that?#I should. oh well #maybe I should start posting some of my writing to ao3 #Charr #Guild wars 2 #hhh am nervous fsr on if this one is “good” so to speak

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