#introducing Meryw's pod-twin

[archesa]

🖋 How about one (or two) drabble(s) for the time when Anwen met the twins?

Torn from the skies

The skies were ablaze. Blackened carcasses of metal and wood twisted in threatening shapes drew on the horizon the horrifying reality of their defeat. In the distance, screaming and fighting, shrieks and explosions thundered, echoed and died beyond the flames, devoured by the jungle.

Anwen stumbled up the rock promontory, stricken by the devastation before her.

She barely heard the shocked whispers of her comrades, drowned by her own terror and the bellowing chaos of torn metal and splintering wood as the remnants of the Glory of Tyria disappeared in the entanglement of vines on the horizon.

The fortune encampment, fortified with the still scorching remnants of an airship reactor fared no better in the omnipresent threat of the jungle.

Two twains of guards kept the breaches ripping the metal rampart apart. They took aim at the newcomers and maintained their rifles at arms till they entered the camp, where the rest of the soldiers kept a watchful vigil on a few familiar faces.

"Laranthir! I'm glad to see you survived! I need a status report, now."

"You're a welcome sight, Commander.", the Grand-Warmaster saluted. "The situation is grim. Mordremoth tore the fleet apart. Trahearne and Destiny's Edge were taken prisoner... The Mordrem could have killed them, but instead took them alive. Mordremoth must want them that way. I shudder to think why.", he added darkly. “The Pact is in ruins. Leaderless. And the remaining soldiers no longer trust me."

"And you're surprised?", Marjory spat, oblivious to Anwen's tense glare. "Scarlet. Aerin. And now this. Mordremoth always uses sylvari to do its dirtiest dirty work.”

“Jory.”, the Commander cut sharply, pointedly positioning herself beside her shield-maiden, a barely audible gasp stuck in her throat and her eyes downcast and pained. “This isn't helping. Our forces are scattered, survivors stranded in the jungle. We must regroup and secure rally points for our soldiers, and safe passage for our wounded. Laranthir, where are the rest of the Reavers?”

“Carys commanded an unit aboard the Glory of Tyria, and I, another. Those who had resisted the call and survived the crash regrouped under my command. We got separated while trying to reach Amber Sandfall. A dozen of ours were taken to the caverns.”

“Have you mustered a rescue team?"

"I wasn't able to. My troops refuse to risk their lives following my orders. They fear I'm leading them into a trap."

“But they might follow you, Commander.”, another sylvari intervened.

Anwen stared at him, bewildered. Ashen of bark, his face framed and his head crowned with scales resembling a pinecone, the light-armoured vigil was the spitting image of Meryw -- only their size, and the colour of their eyes, hers a crystal teal where his were wreathed in gold and violet, setting them apart.

“Warmaster Dairban.”, he saluted amiably, his demeanour as open as his twin sister’s despite the precarity of their situation.

“Honoured to finally meet you. Meryw speaks in high regards of you, I’m glad our paths meet at last -- even if I wish it were under different circumstances. I need volunteers for a rescue mission, I suppose I can count you in?”

"Don't let the plants trick you into that fool's endeavour, Commander!", a charr bearing the colours of the Priory snarled. "We must focus on strengthening the defenses around here. Our priority has been and must remain to salvaging weapon parts from the crash site.”

“The Pact does not abandon its own, soldier.”, Laranthir opposed calmly.

“Look around, 'sir’. There is no more Pact. And the prisoners you want to save are probably already dead.”

"Get a grip on yourself, Explorer!", Anwen admonished. "Laranthir is still your commanding officer. And he has my full confidence. The Pact has been beaten, that much is true. But we are not defeated yet. We will burn Mordremoth to the ground before we surrender to it.”

She turned to the Grand Warmaster.

“Laranthir and the Reavers will join the search-and-rescue team. If you're not on that team, dig in and fortify this position.”

“It's not worth risking more lives to save sylvari prisoners. Even if they're still alive, you can’t expect us to trust them after what they did to the fleet! Who says they won’t turn against us at the first skirmish? Sylvari belong to Mordremoth, now.”

“Did you just condemn my entire race?”, a rough voice snapped. “It seems the dragon brings out the worst in you, too.”

“Canach is right. Mordremoth wants us to turn on each other. Are you going to play right into the enemy's hands?”

“No. But I’ve come here to slay an Elder Dragon. Not to wait in line to be slaughtered by its minions. This camp won't last another night. Those amongst you who want to live, come with me!”

A warhorn sounded, thundering upon the gorge and casting the Explorer to her knees, lightning ensnaring her ankles and wrists and pinning her to the ground.

All eyes turned, expecting to find yet another crazed sylvari but instead were met by the freezing cold demeanour and disdainful sneer of the warmaster elementalist breaking the circle of Vigils held at gunpoint, lightning engulfing him as it tightened around the charr.

"You filthy coward.”, he chuckled incredulously. “You swore your blood and honour to the Pact when taking this mantle and when the shadow of the dragon looms darkest over us, you'd turn your back and leave your brethren?”

The deserter convulsed, once, twice and fell limp on the ground, electric arcs holding her like shackles, but no longer coursing her body.

Riffles clicked. A crystal shield encased him. And a panicked voice shattered the deathly silence.

“Hold your fire!”

Meryw was standing between her twin and the Commander, and the Commander between Meryw and the raised barrels of three silver shotguns.

The lightning dissipated in flickering sparks, and the charr took a deep, ragged breath.

"You see?", she coughed, red staining her fangs where the shock had made her bite her tongue. "They're not to be trusted! They will kill us all!”, she cried pointing at the warmaster staring down at her, his golden eyes ice cold and the shock long faded, giving way to an eerily static expression. “You stay and die there for all I care. I’ll stick to protecting the companions I know I can trust. Gunnard, Gatt! Come on. We'll fare better off on our own.”

“Can’t fault Dairban on this, Metella. You count me out of your tiny mutiny.”, the asura rebuked. “My duty is to my fellow soldiers. I'm staying.”

The charr shook her head dejectedly.

“It’s your funeral. Good luck—you're going to need it. As for you, Commander, you may be blind, now. But I hope you open your eyes before one of these ferns inevitably slits your throat.”

A heavy silence weighted on the fortune camp, a knell resounding to the bones of the earth as a good quarter of the survivors headed off in the jungle.

Lips tight and joints blanch as she curled her hands to fists at her side, the Commander swallowed thickly and turned to the remaining men.

“Everyone fall in. Let's get to work! Braham, I want you and Taimi to find and weld some metal pieces to the outer rim. We must seal off these wide breaches, focus our fire on a single entrance. Crusader Gatt, you’re in charge of the camp while the Reavers and I search for our prisoners. Jory, see if you can stabilize our most heavily wounded enough so that Kas can portal them to Amber Sandfall. I need Meryw with us in case the captured soldiers need healing. Rox, you and Frostbite, take a twain of men to scout around and see if we can anticipate the enemy’s move, maybe set up some traps — trip wires, explosives, whatever we got at hand. Canach, you’re with me. I want to know if we’re running into a trap.”

They progressed out of the camp, under the wary gaze of their fellow soldiers and companions, and to a long eroded flight of stairs descending in the depths of the canyon.

“Thank you for taking our side, Commander.”, Laranthir offered once out of ears reach.

“No need to thank me. I trust you, and I trust your judgement in your men. We’ve had difficult choices to face in Orr, and I expect the jungle will hold even more for us... The Pact prevailed against Zhaitan because we were united. Neither the Vigil’s artillery, the Priory’s erudition, or the Whisper’s intelligence could even have opened a way through Orr had we not stood together. We cannot afford to let doubt and mistrust fester our bonds of fellowship. And we owe to our companions to keep hope alive. So we have to look out and speak up for each other.”, she added offering a knowing nod to Dairban, standing a watchful vigil behind him.

The days would turn dark, and blood would draw, but if she had any certitude these were the one she’d build the foundations of her fortitude onto.

However strong the dragon was, there were some things it could never defeat.

Kindness. Love. And hope.