Since Iâm on a roll with these, hereâs Von Ffeldy, my much abused and long suffering engineer main circa 2013 (top, with the black eye) and 2021 (bottom). Engis were notoriously under-powered back in the day (some may argue they still are?) and he did a lot more dungeon running in his skivvies than either of us would care to admit. (And I deleted those screenshots. Probably.)
Ffeldy circa 2013 also features in âThe Engineer and the Ingenuâ which can be found on FFN and AO3.Â
Once he levelled up to 80, we celebrated with a makeover, an ice pack, and some Tylenol.
~ inscribed inside latrine door at the Seraph training academy. Amateur handwriting aficionados suspect that the limerick likely written by DeGlasse himself, but proof remains inconclusive.
(added by me, possibly the single most dedicated fan of this ancient, awful, amazing, and utterly hilarious story)
My initial reaction, on the other hand, before I angrily stomped off to FFN to find your fic and add the attribution, went more like this (and prepare for one of my reviews⊠an atypical one):
AAAAAHHH YOU POSTED THAT ON TUMBLR! Out of nowhere! Out of the plain blue sky! I saw this guy casting mesmery stuff and then I saw Phantasmal Mr Fox (or his ingame representation) and my gut reaction went NOW I KNOW THAT GUY⊠where do I know that guy⊠SOMEBODY is copying SOMETHING and I smell a fish around here⊠ehh itâs probably just another fashion post like the millions I see crossing my da- DEGLASSE YOU! I SHOULDâVE KNOWN!
(quickly followed by) SIR FFELDY YOU POSTED THAT POEM ON TUMBLR! I LOVE YOU!
(followed even quicker by) YOU DIDNâT INCLUDE THE PART WHERE HE WROTE THAT POEM HIMSELF!
(after stomping off angrily to retrieve that part and stick up there where people will see it, I then noticed something extremely puzzling:)
There is a tough mesmer, DeGlasse,
Who runs a cruel Seraphing class
And if you make a jest,
Or run off to find rest,
Thereâs a clone of him kicking your ass,
Sir you changed some things.
YOU MADE HIM PAST TENSE.
And you made him non-tough, sir, I frownâŠ
You also took out his nonexistent sense of humor.
Far less personality in the new versionâŠ
On the other hand.
it kinda looks like you did it from memory.
and if so thatâs both horrifying and awesome
you remember it
clearly without looking it up or else it would be the same thing.
You remembered it whole, with only some adjectives and one phrase different.
Okay, late to the party (again) in that I literally just figured out I can reblog this with a comment, and I will because I so appreciate your comment and your enthusiasm(!). Also, your critique is spot-on as usual. And finally, I swear Iâve seen a bump in traffic on FFN, and maybe your commentary is why...
And yes, I was totally being lazy -- I mean, did the poem thing from memory. Heh.
Spent entirely too much time this weekend taking photoshoots of my various #gw2 characters, so I guess Iâll share them somewhere. Hereâs my sylvari ranger who is a badass ~~despite~~ (because of) leveling to 80 entirely via crafting. Iâm embarrassed to report that I canât remember his name off the top of my head. Luckily, he doesnât know where I live. Yet.
Chapter 8 of Welcome to the Jungle is up. Hereâs an excerpt (links at the bottom):
âFfeldy jogged to catch up. âHavenât you ever fallen in love?â he asked, falling into step alongside Canach.
âNot in the human sense, no. Iâve seen how love makes them stupid and blind. I donât understand the desire to share a home or a bed. That strikes me as uncomfortably claustrophobic. And the feeling ofâhow is it described? Fluttering ingested lepidoptera? How horrifying.â
The warm jungle breeze riffled through Canachâs leafy exterior as he spoke, and Ffeldy found himself rather jealous at how free the sylvari seemed from the more inconvenient human emotions.
âItâs quite pleasant, I assure you,â Ffeldy shot back. âThe butterflies in the stomach feeling.â
âMy, how defensive you are. Have I struck a nerve, engineer?â
The early morning sun filtered through the jungle canopy, giving the Ledges a bright, verdant look that matched Ffeldyâs new-found mood. Hammer slung across his back, he whistled as he made his way along the path to the upper camp.
âRise and shine!â Ffeldy knelt in front of the Commanderâs open tent flap, a mug of hot coffee in each hand. âI didnât realize how beautiful the rainforest could be, but this lightingââ He stopped short. The tent was empty.
âLooking for the Commander?â growled a low voice behind him.
Ffeldy glanced over his shoulder. A charr with huge green eyes and a longbow over her shoulder huffed the air. Ffeldyâs ancestors had been refugees of the Searing of Ascalon, and his neck prickled whenever he encountered the large feline huntersâa centuries-old inherited instinct he struggled to shake. Charr and humans were allies now, of a sort. His brain knew it, even if his elevated heart rate did not.
âShe didnâtâŠleave, did she?â Ffeldy pushed through his hesitation.
The charrâs ears swiveled and she gave the air another long sniff. âAt least an hour ago. She had word of an Itzel scout with important intelligence regarding certain high-value prisoners. I donât expect sheâll make another detour back here. Itâs an urgent mission.â
âI understand.â Ffeldy stood, taking a long sip from one of the mugs to hide his disappointment. âErrâŠyou want some coffee?â
âIf itâs not Dolyak bullion Iâm not putting a whisker near it. But thanks.â
Ffeldy heard a squeak and looked down. A juvenile devourerâall legs, claws and chitinous double-tailâscrabbled at his boots. He jumped back with a yelp, sloshing coffee over the front of his coat.
âFrostbite! Down!â snapped the charr, but the little devourer ignored Ffeldy now that it had a puddle of coffee to lap off the ground with its mouth-pinchers. âSorry about that. Heâs quite gentle. Who knew devourers craved caffeine?â
âItâs no problem. I managed to save one cup, and no one else was going to drink the other anyway.â Ffeldyâs glove wasnât the most absorbent blotter for his soaked front, but he didnât see any convenient towels lying around. âAre you two headed in the same direction as the Commander?â
âFrostbite and I will be scouting the area, then regrouping with her, yes. Youâre a Pact soldier. Youâve got your orders, I assume.â
âThere were other Pact airships that went down nearby. And Farenâs Flyer.â Ffeldy drained the remaining mug in a few quick gulps. Atalanta had her priorities straight. This mission came first. By Grenth, what was he still doing here, lazing around camp? On the edge of the ravine nearby, servants had erected a tent-like pagoda for these airship-wrecked nobles, who continued to live in style with their Ascalonian whiskey, tapioca pudding, and domestic service. They didnât seem particularly eager to escape the jungle, and he could already feel their inertia slowing him down, too. His body was bruised and battered from the crash, from sparring with Canach, and just a few more hours of sleep in the empty tent wouldnât make a differenceâŠ
âA rescue mission. The Commanderâll like that.â
Ffeldyâs face grew hot before he realized she wasnât using Canach-levels of sarcasm.
âYouâve done some scouting in this area, right? Any idea where the Farenâs Flyer might have crashed?â
She turned. âWell, you could always read the signposts I guess.â
âHa.â
âJust donât trust compasses. Mordremothâs presence overpowers them in the Heart of Maguuma. They only point towards the dragon. But you might try going downhill.â
âGood to know.â
âWalk softly, Ffeldy,â said the charr, and flicked a farewell with her tail. âCome on, Frostbite. No, get down. Youâre the one with all the energy. I think you get to carry me today.â
âMay Dwana keep you.â Ffeldy bowed slightly, racking his brain for the charrâs name. Heâd met her last night at the bonfire, but it hadnât stuck. It was too late to ask now.
[Authorâs note: I literally just made a Tumblr account today, and saw your call for submissions. Hereâs the opening to the ridiculous engineer story Iâm currently working on, which is Commander-adjacent and set in HoT. Hopefully I did this right.]
**
Dusk came early to the Heart of Maguuma. Shadows lengthened in the early afternoon and flocks of birds rose flapping from the jungle canopy, confused by the sudden darkness. A curious young eagle ascended on an updraft, wings rippling, to challenge the strange black cloud that blocked out the sun. Her feathers scraped the side of a strange wooden gondola that floated over the forest, and she realized this was no cloud.
Airships. Hundreds of them.
They scudded silently through the muggy air, all moving together like an encroaching fogbank. The eagle swooped up over the nearest airship, her wingtips skimming the surface of its huge fabric hull. Thunderbreaker was painted on the side in fancy white lettering. She couldnât read, yet she heard voices from the gondola, carried on the wind.
âPact Engineer Ffeldy!â
âAye Captain!â
Beyond the glazed gondola window, a female sylvari stood at the helm, her telescope trained on the canopy below. âWeâre about to drop a kitten-ton of munitions on Mordremoth. Ready the release valve on balloonet one, so we donât launch into the stratosphere when we lose our ballast.â
âIâm on it.â A youngish human double-timed along the deck, then nimbly climbed to the roof of the gondola and stretched up to fit a wrench on the balloonet valve. âReady to maintain neutral buoyancy!â he shouted.
The eagle had seen enough. She tucked her wings and dove through the canopy to alert her forest allies.
Pact Engineer Ffeldy braced himself against the warm, invigorating jungle breeze and clutched the valveâs handle, ready to throw his entire weight on his wrench the second he felt the gondola buck upwards from the impending ballast dump. In his head, he calculated how much air to release, based on the exact weight of the munitionsâa number slightly more accurate than âkitten-ton.â
The jungle air smelled of heady exotic flora and rotten fruit, and the humidity made him sweat. Ffeldyâs Aetherblade skyfarerâs coatâcaptured during the battle for Lionâs Archâflapped around him, and his golden Seraph wing shield shuddered against his back where it was firmly strapped. A pistol with the telltale crystalized finish of Asuran design rode the holster on his thigh.
âSteady on! Hold your positions!â
The order came from a gilded greenish Sylvari standing on the deck of the massive airship floating to the left and slightly below Thunderbreaker. It was Glory of Tyria, flagship of the Pact fleet, and it carried an assortment of VIPs, to include Pact Marshall Trahearne and the re-formed Destinyâs Edge. Ffeldy had only met Captain Logan Thackery in person, but heâd glimpsed the others in passing, and easily identified the figures of Zojja, Eir, and Logan on Gloryâs deck. Trahearne stood at the pointed stern.
âHold, I say!â
With a whoosh, the hundred-odd airships extended their fin-like airbrakes and coasted gradually to a halt, where they bobbed gently in sky, reminding Ffeldy of sleeping quaggans riding the swells in Frostgorge Sound. He glanced down at the peaceful green canopy. Threads of doubt squeezed his insides. Fear cottoned his mouth, making his tongue feel thick and dry. Was Mordremothâor some vulnerable part of himâreally hiding down there in the forest? Perhaps they were about to unleash an inferno on some unsuspecting Hylek village by accident and heâd have to live with the guilt for the rest of his life.
Too late to turn back now.
âFire!â
Thunderbreaker lurched upwards. Her lethal payload rocketed downward into the forest canopy. Thin contrails of smoke streaked the sky where, all around Ffeldy, the hundred airships fired in unison at Mordremoth. Hopefully. Ffeldy hauled on the valve with all his strength as air hissed through. He counted: one, two, threeâŠand shut it again as Thunderbreakerâs altitude stabilized.
A whooshing sound made him turn. Huge thorny vines shot from the canopy like grappling hooks, ensnaring many of the lower airships around him. Thunderbreaker bucked again in the turbulent air, her tailfins flapped, and she rotated slowly aroundâtoo slowly, blast itâuntil her needle-sharp nosecone pointed directly at the vulnerable fabric hide of The Glory of Tyria.
âNot good,â Ffeldy murmured as a strange chill blew past his neck, despite the heat. âAgainst protocol. Bad. Bad!â
**
The rest of this in-progress fic (and a complete prequel) can be found at AO3.
