It's wearing SHOES!

my name is wuff and i like cat Links for mobile here

[guildwuff2]

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i've swapped to ko-fi! if you'd like to support my work, get discounts on commissions and get access to my discord channel where i post art, sketches and goofy stuff, please consider subscribing!

[guildwuff2]

some gw2cc art fights! for @sleidog , @guildtree , @smellyvampirez and @into-theocean ✨

[guildwuff2]

The Waiting Game

(cw: flashbacks of the peril and implied death of a norn kid)

You sit at your desk, running out of things to do. No patients. No visitors. Nothing needing dried, plucked, ground, steeped, bottled or otherwise.

Plenty of time to sit and stew over shit you had no control over.

You stand up with an impatient scoff. You reach for your pipe but you hesitate, fingers hovering over the stupid mug they missing Explorer had gifted you that you hadn't wanted. You snatch your pipe out of it, and root through the little tin of tobacco they'd also gifted you next to it.

With a grumble, you stomp out of the Infirmary.

You hadn't been adventuring long, hadn't quite made it out from under your family's shadow. You were still young, fresh tattoos and warm auburn curls and bright eyes. You'd been eager to prove yourself.

You'd gotten word of a missing kid, of a steading not far from where you were staying the night. The very next morning you'd trekked all the way out to them to offer your help, and they had accepted, desperate for any aid.

You and the missing kid's family spent days searching in the snow, staying out as long as you could before the darkness grew too difficult to see in, and the frigid air became too harsh, even for a norn.

You'd cursed. Gotten angry. Combed every shrub, crag and snowdrift, called out 'til you'd gone hoarse.

You cough, exhaling the smoke you'd been holding in your mouth.

You lean against the outer wall of the Tavern, scowling at the darkness, trying not to think. Trying not to wonder. What could you do? You didn't know anyone, least of all them. You could do nothing.

Tracks had been a difficult find in the ever-changing snowscape, but as you'd trailed away from the rest of the search party you'd finally found a promising trail of nondescript divets in the snow, a few days old. Next to them, fresher still, were large pawprints.

If the kid was being hunted...

There was nothing you could do that Aelfgar or anyone couldn't do better. It was best not to get underfoot. All you could do was keep your medicines stocked and prepare for their return.

You followed those tracks.

They led you to a cave, tucked away in the landscape and had otherwise been difficult to spot. You called out into it.

Your reply had been a soft groan through the trembling chatter of teeth.

Just as you'd called them to stay right there, that you were coming in, a sudden clawed weight came crashing down on you from the crags above.

Your last smokey exhale trails out and above. Then, as you always did, you tap the ashes out of the bowl of your pipe.

It was a whirlwind of claws and fur and blood before you'd bested the beast. It wasn't until after you killed it that you'd realized it was an alpine stalker. Panting, bleeding from a fresh wound to the brow, you called out to the kid again and stumbled your way into the cave.

You had found him bundled up on the floor, curled into himself, injured, dehydrated, hypothermic, but alive. You had assessed his injuries, finding nothing broken, and you'd carefully scooped him up in your cloak and held him to your chest. He was far too light, shivering with what strength he had left against you.

You limped your way back, panting harsh plumes of foggy breath that rose into the freezing air. You needed to hurry.

The others would find them. In what state, you weren't sure.

"Hold on, kid, jus' a li'l further..."

But you know how these things tend to go.

You make your way back into your Infirmary, and you hide in there like you hit in that damn shack all those years.

[guildwuff2]

The closest thing to family

You don't like to think of your time in the lab much.

Your world was mostly darkness, back then. You weren't given much to see by unless your handlers arrived, all you had was the red glow of the walls.

The people-- you didn't know them as asura until later-- would come collect you. The golems, one of the big solid things with glowing red eyes that went with them that you grew to fear from early on, would take your chain, and you would follow because it would not let you stay.

The people would poke you, look at your teeth, your horns, the nails on your hands. They'd put you on a cold flat slab and make you hold still, and then they would put gross-tasting liquids in your mouth where you would have to swallow it. Then they would feed you, then they would put you back in your room, where the water and the straw would be fresh. On bad days, there were needles.

Most of the asura in the lab did not see you beyond those times. But one of them would come in at other times to feed you, give you water, and stay with you.

You remember that you did not trust him at first. Asura meant poking and prodding and gross stuff to drink. But he was kind; where the others would ignore you, and speak loudly and sound angry or indifferent, he spoke gently, and directly to you. He called you Fuzzball; you didn't know what it meant back then, but you liked it.

He would just talk to you, and you wish you remembered more about what he said. He would scratch behind your ears and around the nubs of your horns. He'd laugh at the things you did when you were in the mood to play, which amounted to running and jumping around your enclosure. He would be there for when the other asura took you, and he would walk with you so you felt more safe, and even though you grew taller every day, he still meant protection to you.

But then, one day, he was gone.

You didn't have the words to ask why back then, though the language was in your head. You feared for him; you were furious with him; you mourned for him. You didn't understand why he left, just that there was a gap now. Eventually, the sadness waned as you began to be faced with new tests from the asura, and you endured, as you always did.

There wasn't anyone like him after that. Not until Zoxu. And as you lay here, in your cozy nest of pillows in your home in the Shiverpeaks, you find yourself thinking about him after your memory supplied his face in a dream you just woke up from.

A strange ghost of your past, unable to be named or identified. It tugged at something in your heart, full-grown as you are now.

...Maybe you should go see Seeli and Fiita with Zoxu today.

[guildwuff2]

A Place of Healing

You can't quite remember how long it's been since your hut had an addition built onto it.

...Well, technically you can, but it feels like ages ago. It was when Aelfgar started to stick around more often in the early days of knowing him, and needed a place to sleep that wasn't a medical cot. Thankfully he had skills in woodworking. He'd built two extra rooms onto your hut.

You remember complaining that the second room was unnecessary, but Aelfgar had insisted (and damn it, he was right). Over the years, your hut had undergone countless repairs within his capable hands, replacements and fixes and decor and furniture, starting with a wobbly chair he'd first built you that you still kept.

...And then Bethan showed up. A former patient of yours from your work in the Priory, now finding herself in need of a roof over her head and a stable place to get her feet back under her.

It was easy to put her up in Aelfgar's former room, since you'd only been using it to brew mead while he traveled. But your hut started facing new changes, namely in the general tidiness and the quality of your garden this year. You had to go buy more little glass bottles, vials and tins than you normally needed, more and more herbs hanging here and there to dry as the weather turned colder. You'll need a second set of hands to even process them all.

...And now the loft. The smell of fresh cut wood was strong in the hut now, bringing you back to those early days with Aelfgar, though this time built by an odd Grenthian priest who felt the need to give back when you'd only been doing your duty. Puh. If someone had told you that you'd befriend the closest thing a human had to a Raven shaman, you would have laughed at them.

Your world, once relegated to this hut and the occasional neighbor's barn or stead, was starting to grow.

Your thoughts turn to the unfinished stone fence outside your hut, and the cairne with an old banner serving as a statue and cape to a self-important sylvari, yet another of your new coworkers. The pensive look on your face sours slightly.

Spirits damn it all, the little weirdo was right. At this rate you are gonna wind up with a damn village.

[guildwuff2]

No Comparison

Puh. Favorite grandson.

You take an aggressive pull from your pipe and hold the smoke in your mouth, trying to focus on the taste. Bitter, sweet, smokey. You think of that dumb human kid instead.

You puff a sigh and the smoke billows from your nostrils like an angry minotaur on a cold morning. You glance aside and up as you spot a little flock of bats dart by, silhouetted by the dusky sky. You scowl at the space they'd been, for lack of anything to scowl at, and lean back in the creaky wooden chair you had sitting outside the Infirmary.

You're frustrated because he's wrong. You aren't anyone's grandma. That's a stupid fucking assessment. You had no kids. Aelfgar certainly wasn't yours-- thank the Spirits, no offense to the man he is now-- and even if he was he didn't have kids neither.

Objectively, Crusher was wrong and stupid.

Besides, you think, teeth clicking against the polished bone bit of your pipe as you take another pull, you weren't grandma material. You weren't maternal. Smiling didn't come easy to you. You weren't warm or comforting. You were like sitting on a bed of sharp gravel.

You weren't like your grandmother. You could never hope to share a pedestal with a legend like her.

You exhale the smoke through your clenched teeth, staring down at the embers in the bowl of the pipe Aelfgar made for you. You think of that dumb mug on your desk that a coworker gave you, with the text that called you a grandmother anyhow.

Well-meaning people found you no matter what. You're better off enduring their misunderstandings quietly than wasting breath correcting people.

You puff away at your pipe, stewing in your thoughts you shared with precious few. Then, when the tobacco was burned out, you'll tap out the ashes, return to your duties, then when the light peeks over the other horizon, you'll return to your hut.

Keep to your routine. You've got to keep your comforts somewhere. Even if at the end of them, you wind up alone in an empty little hut.

[lutzlig]

ATTACK ON @alexdreamart GET ATTACKED

[mabaki]

Art Fight revenge for Riina!

[mabaki]

Art Fight / GW2CC Revenge on @sleidog!

[guildwuff2]

Glasses

As a citizen of Lion's Arch, you, Optometrist Goggol, are quite used to the occasional quirky stranger.

But your passion for your field led you here, to make sure those from all walks of life may have the opportunity for perfect vision thanks to your unparalleled craft. You're quite used to the tough sailor types that walk through your door, that was certainly not unusual around here.

...The old, scowling norn that looked like she'd never left the Shiverpeaks before was a new one, though.

Her hair was long, curly, and wild, grey streaked here and there with silver and capped with a bandana. She wore natural, neutral tones, faded with age and use, with all the leather, hide and furs that came with a norn's norn. Parts of her craggy face seemed to be just recovering from sunburn, and her stoney-eyed expression looked as though she were on her last nerve and you were the difference as to whether or not she'd get violent.

You are not too proud to admit you'd gulped.

She leaned over your desk and cast a shadow over you, and in a low, gravelly voice, she asked for an appointment.

You aren't stupid. In fact you take great pride in your intelligence. You informed her you could see to her appointment right now.

You got her through her exam as expeditiously as you could without making her feel rushed. She moved stiffly, frowning at each device and piece of equipment you brought out to conduct your exam. Despite the scowling and grumbling, she was surprisingly acquiescent.

At the end, you handed her a copy of her results, sheepishly recommending she wear bifocals.

She frowned at you. "Okay," she replied.

...You explained what they are, and how they correct nearsightedness.

"Fine," she said.

...Would she like a pair made for her??

"S'why I wen' outta my damn way ta get 'ere, ain' it?"

Right. Yep. Yep. Sorry.

Here was the scary part. Norn, especially those from the remote recesses of the Peaks, weren't generally the type for coin-based commerce, as you knew. You could feel your palms beginning to sweat when you told her the bill for her visit, and then what the glasses would cost once they were made.

"...Sure." And casual as you please she pulled out an overfull coin purse and paid you in full for both, with plenty to spare.

"When do I git them glasses."

In about a week??

"'Kay. I'll be back."

She loomed once more, scowling all the while, and stomped back out of your office without another word.

So here you sit, counting coin and staring at her prescription, hoping that your work would be enough to impress... whoever that was.

[guildwuff2]

i'm trying to get better about posting the stuff i make and i do a Lot of writing with pals, but i figure i should post my drabbles more if i'm gonna be posting more art also. i've queued a bunch up so uh! keep an eye out i spose!

[guildwuff2]

hello i've been incredibly norn brained lately as i've been writing gytha and i'd like to submit some headcanons about norn and norn culture. i am in no way making this polished and pretty because it's all just me ranting

1) NORN COMMUNITY STUFF

norn aren't so strictly individualistic as they seem first blush! the tradition of norn marriage being one which both parties must be seen as equals and vouched by their peers implies there's a degree of social approval needed, and i've absolutely applied this before towards things like adoptions within norn society too (vouching for the child's need and the parent's ability). a recognized marriage means if someone tries to challenge, i.e. "so-and-so should have been MY mate", those who vouched would come to the aid of the aggrieved party whom they approved of

i also figure there's a BIG culture of hospitality, since norn are incredibly frequent travelers and adventurers in a harsh land and keeping a good homestead is something to take pride in! hosts are expected to give a host food and lodging as they need it and entertainment with stories and songs are also expected, and guests are meant to accept these things and offer their own stories and/or songs

being a bad host and throwing someone out of your home for no good reason is grounds for people distancing themselves from you or your home, and being a bad guest will find you having to brave the outdoors on your own more often than not, which leads me to:

2) WRITTEN AND ORAL HISTORY

Norn have been shown to be BIG on oral history, legend and stories in general, and i imagine the social aspects of the first point influence that greatly. THEY LOVE GOSSIP. they want to know how the neighbors are doing, what the latest is in hoelbrak, what's going on with the commander/wayfinder, and so on!

Oral history probably takes specific emphasis because a LOT of written history was likely lost as the norn fled south from Jormag, and though many norn may write poetry or write down their history, having it spoken and remembered by others is what gives it the longevity, exactly like how norn live on in the memory of others by their legends. that said a lot of oral history was likely lost too with how many norn died in Jormag's initial blizzard 💦 any shaman or skaald is a WEALTH of knowledge, and given how norn are implied to be long-lived they no doubt have a LOT of known history carried with them

3) FUNERARY PRACTICE

norn live on in the memory of others! so it makes sense that a skaald is expected to show for a memorial, so they can learn about the deceased and compose something for them. a shaman may show up too, depending on the deceased's chosen spirit (but raven would be likely given raven's association as the ferryman of sorts). a moot can be thrown if they're life is definitely something to be celebrated!

i like the idea of funeral pyres because they're big and dramatic, but i could see an argument to be made for like. letting a body be reclaimed by the natural world, too (i think i also just enjoy pyres because my norn is a guardian jfdkfk)

while norn want to be remembered for their legends by as many people as they can, many long-running family homesteads keep histories of their ancestors going so they can live on if their lives were a little more quiet to the broad world

4) OWL STUFF

Wow hi i have some thoughts. so there's not a HUGE amount of material on Owl but based on the Heart and text at Owl's Abbatoir, Owl is sort of the de facto Spirit associated with the healing arts, as there's an emphasis on caring for one's family

the healing arts are considered uncommon amongst the norn too! there's an npc in hoelbrak who says as much, though she gives no indication she's affiliated with a spirit as far as i know (feel free to correct me). so i figure, compounding with the idea that a lot of norn history was lost in the move south and that Owl followers are relatively uncommon, there's a correlation there

anywho hi tell me your headcanons. i wanna know your Norn Thoughts

[guildtree]

GW2CC attack against @guildwuff2 of Gytha and her warclaw! People who look like their pets...

[guildwuff2]

wearing a big obnoxious badge on my shirt that says Ask Me About My Angry Old Healer Lady

[guildwuff2]

Three more comms! for @pyppyn , @kaninchen-reblogs and @timbrelandlyre !

[pyppyn]

Welxx (and Rocco!) by @guildwuff2! Thank you so much!

Sometimes OCs go off-model and some ideas get hard to represent ingame. That's where art comes in! I commissioned this lovely ref sheet to finally put all my thoughts for the little guy out there.

More info Continued yapping about OC lore below the fold!

Welxx has a long history with Golemancy. He won a Snaff Prize for it, led a krewe that made him famous doing it, and had his entire life ruined by it for a little bit! When WKL Labs finally tore apart and got dissolved, he could have let that send him on a downward spiral. For a while he did. When he was recovering, he began to view it as a chance to start working on new technology instead of mass-produced consumer models.

Now free of his obligations and sitting on top of a Gnashblade-esque fortune to work with, he rolled up his sleeves.

So where did Rocco come from? Two places mostly. He's an idea from when Welxx was an apprentice but was shelved due to a lack of funding. He was disappointed by the lack of overlap between the works of his two greatest inspirations - Oola and Snaff. In seeking to fuse their golematic styles, he hoped to find his own voice in the craft.

Thus, the WLX line of golems was born. Bespoke, custom-ordered machines for the adroit asuran academic who knows exactly what they want their golems to do. No two are alike. There are other WLX models that have been produced and sold, but Rocco is and always will be for Welxx and Welxx alone.

Rocco's official name is WLX-LC-01 and his project title is 'Living Construct.' Sirocco came about as a code name that then turned into shorthand and stuck.

He works by combining two principles; Oola's control schema and power systems using necromancy as a baseline, and Snaff's creative material choices. Sandy from the Edge of Destiny novel was a huge inspiration here.

Volcanic sand with a high iron content provides the form for most of the 'body.' It's malleable, easily sourced, and allows for a flexible shape. Rocco can go completely solid one moment and flow like water the next. The only limits are his own mass and Welxx's imagination.

Life force provides power and control. Specifically, Welxx's own life force. Mournstone crystals attuned to him are ground up and distributed throughout the body to cause an interaction with the sand.

These parts receive control signals from a number of cube-nodes, which themselves are paired to a set of subdermal implants running from Welxx's head down his spine and arms.

These transmit life force from Welxx's own reserves into Rocco's body. Welxx always retains enough to keep him alive and healthy, but any excess he absorbs is immediately shunted into Rocco. No other source will do, it all has to flow through Welxx as the focal point.

This has the knock-on effect of making it so Welxx can't use most necromancy without Rocco, but he never bothered learning more than what he needed to pull this off anyway. He's not really bothered by it.

This makes him the world's worst necromancer! Kinda by default, but that counts right?

It also makes Rocco singularly controlled by Welxx. He can't be hijacked, compromised, or de-powered by any traditional means.

There are no golems like him and there never will be again. Welxx can't reproduce this format without performing several invasive brain scans and mapping neural nets, and he can't attune to any other band of Life force than his own. There's only one Rocco and the technology that drives him is a closely-guarded secret.

Rocco isn't just a dumb mass of sand either. His 'operating system' is an effective copy of Welxx's consciousness, constantly updated as new stimuli and information flows between golem and pilot.

He's tends to speak and act on Welxx's subconscious thoughts when he's active. He doesn't speak much, but chimes in on occasion when Welxx feels more at ease. Given that Welxx is almost always anxious about something, that means Rocco's a golem of few words.

Welxx always keeps at least a little bit of Rocco on-hand wherever he goes. He's even given individual control nodes to friends that can act as a kind of snapshot of Rocco's mind at the time it was separated off, able to converse as if it were the real thing. Whenever they meet again, it connects to the main body to 'catch up.'

He also has a sense of what Welxx wants or needs before Welxx himself knows. It's not uncommon for him to transform into a chair that Welxx takes a seat in without thinking, or into a stepladder when something's out of reach. He even starts looking for food if Welxx gets hungry.

Is Rocco all that practical? Yes! And no. There are challenges, compromises, and annoyances all around. Is he Welxx's favorite invention? Absolutely. He wouldn't trade him for anything and he has no regrets about what he's done to have him. They're linked forever, and they're both okay with that.

[comikbook]

anything can be about your ocs if you believe