*puff*

The gathered nothings of mine.

[splendidpuffings]

I do tend to cuss a bit. It isn’t even at people but just in general. Mess up a rotation in raids, I cuss. Fail to heal the party member all the way across the instance, I cuss. Fail to run across all 5,000 scourge aoes between me and my commander tag in wvw, I cuss. There’s research somewhere proving that cussing releases tension and I try not to treat my friends and allies to all of it....

[splendidpuffings]

Desserts

Wrote this several weeks ago after blundering around a wvw borderland all alone for what seemed hours. Just a short silly wvw story.Has nothing to do with the ongoing story I am currently writing, just ran across it while looking through my GW2 writing snippets.

He had asked for none of this.  He squeezed further between the logs, marveling at how his terror made him somehow skinnier. It was exceedingly uncomfortable however, and he doubted his cover would last for long; the enemy had seen him and even now crowded around the camp, dispatching the few guards that remained after he had been at his duty. Ah, duty. He suppressed the urge to laugh at the word. What was duty now but an empty promise of reward? When the borderland was so silent he could hear the snow falling, there was no one to care besides the dolyaks and the mist guards who neither spoke nor noticed him, save on the occasions they were hostile to him. They died like the ghosts they were, vanishing into the winds from whence they came, only to be reborn, sometimes as allies but either way they were useless and he regarded them with scorn.

Like the mist guards, the enemy spoke no discernible words, but they were different, far more cunning and cruel than any mistborn construct. They had to be people just like him, only from different dimensions or some such; a passing Durmand Priory sage had tried to explain it all to him but Gos wasn't keen on theories. He generally just hated them and wished they would move on (admittedly the stragglers were fun to kill), especially when they flocked in such great numbers. All he could do was run.

His nose had started to itch. There was no way to reach up and scratch it without moving forward to the opening ahead of him, but he could see people moving out there. He rolled his eyes and waited. The enemy seemed to have stopped for a conference or something. He wished ill upon them uselessly as the cold gathered around him, reaching through his thin cloak, passing through the flexible leather armor he wore and past the silk underclothes upon which he insisted for the sake of comfort. At least his feet were still warm and he kept moving his fingers within their gloves, but he swore that it would be a week before sensation returned to his ass.

Then, finally, to his great relief, the enemy started to move. He squirmed forward, eager to return to Dawn's Eerie to warm his chilled body. He could clearly see their backs now, approaching the cleft in the cliffs where the dolyak train traveled. Then, abruptly the horrific snarl of magic, the clash of weapons harshly proclaimed that there was a great battle. He scooted the rest of the way out, stiffly flopping into a snow drift and flailing clumsily as he fought to bring sensation back to his limbs. He squatted there for a moment, still sheltered by the log pile, the scent of stabled dolyaks thick all around him.

“Gos?”

He shuddered at the sound of his name, turning swiftly to look for the source. He looked up the slope to see a familiar figure, majestic in an aura of light and various magics.

“You should run.” The luminous figure said, as if they were a prophet from some old tale. He got fully to his feet and peered up at Asgaeta.

“I am not sure if I should run from the enemy or you.”

The huge norn looked down at him with a puzzled expression, shifting a dazzling weapon to his other hand. “What?”

“the enemy will see all... all this....” He gestured wildly at all of Asgaeta's glowing armor and stretching, luminescent wings. “A mile away.”

“Do you suggest I hide in a pile of logs, then?” the guardian laughed, “Perhaps under the snow? In the dolyak crap with you?”

“No.”

“What's the use in being plain if everyone can see me anyhow?” Asgaeta was no longer looking at him but at the continuing pitched battle at the mouth of the camp. “We should leave, one of the sides looks like it's winning and we'll do as dessert I am sure.”

“Now if I were choosing dessert, I would go for the norn.”

They had started walking up the slope, Asgaeta glanced down at him. “Why would you say that?”

“Everyone likes frozen desserts, especially in large portions.”

“If I were choosing dessert, I would go for the one with the paper wrapping.”

“I have perfectly good armor.”

“Also maybe they're trying to get fit, you'd be just right for a charr watching its waistline.”

“Hey now.”

“You brought it up.”

Gos glanced back at the now rapidly resolving battle, “We should probably run.”

“Yeah.”

[splendidpuffings]

Griffon

“Is it a boy or a girl?” Goselt asked, gripping the reins with the same dread he reserved for cliff side handholds or the initial launch of a glider.

“He is a boy. Not that griffons really count as boys.” Brigga said with a snort. “Don't sweat so much, the saddle's enchantment means he won't rip off your head just as soon as rub you off on a sand dune.”

“Good.” He looked up at the massive head for the first time and met the griffon's lofty amber gaze. Goselt decided that it was looking down at him with pure hatred; he had no great gift for handling animals, he had been bitten by innumerable dogs and cats seemed dead set on suffocating him as he slept. He had mostly been around dolyaks and had felt the beasts only tolerated him because there were oats at the end of each trip. He was certain that if rations had been lacking he'd still be flattened on the ground somewhere in the mists. “Does he have a name?”

“Call him whatever you want.” Brigga had her back turned, loading her belongings on a decidedly more docile griffon that suited her more diminutive size.

“Does he have to be so big and white - why white? Isn't there an active elder dragon near where we are going? It's so obvious.”

“It's a perfectly good griffon, you won't be taming one on your own any time soon and it would take days to walk.” Brigga said, “and as I keep explaining, he won't eat you.”

“I need to have a griffon?”

“Yes.” Brigga replied with a loud sigh, “We don't have time to wait for a waypoint to be set up near where the site is located, so we need to fly.”

“I'll call you Bitey. Just to remind you not to bite me.”

The griffon did not even acknowledge his new name but Brigga laughed softly. “Did you get your stuff loaded up?”

“Just got what is in my backpack.”

“Alright, mount up and let's get going, they're waiting for us. Just follow me.”

“Uh. I don't really ride things.”

“Just give him a kick and simply pull the reins where you want to go. Say 'hooo!' when you want to land and 'sheeee!' when you want to rise and squeeze a bit with your knees to slow down, it's simple really. Make sure you use the belt.”

He gingerly put his foot in what seemed an unreasonably deep stirrup and pulled himself up by the pommel. The griffon made a low hissing noise and turned to look at him, beak slightly agape,  red tongue flicking as he continued to hiss. He pulled his leg over to the other side and the griffon's disapproval vibrated through the saddle. He fumbled around for a leather strap and found it, drawing it up and cinching it in place over his lap. Brigga had already mounted and with a dainty touch guided her griffon around and towards the edge of the ruined parapet that marked the boundary of the Priory's advanced camp in Kourna.  He plucked at the reins and the griffon didn't budge, so he gave the lines a jerk and the beast's head whipped around, displaying once again its huge, ripping beak. The griffon growled but followed Brigga as she took to the air and his stomach lurched dangerously as the first wing beats gave in to a sudden drop in altitude as they glided for a moment. He soon grew used to the steady rhythm of wing beat and glide, however and the air felt cooler at speed than it had on the ground. 

He barely touched the reins, for Bitey seemed naturally inclined to follow Brigga and for this he was relieved; he had already forgotten the hasty instructions on how to control the griffon. He was now able to pay attention to the landscape, the sweep of low golden dunes, crumbling red rock highlands and the occasional ruin that jutted against the pale morning sky. He could smell the dampness of a river as they flew over it, the spicy tang of a highland forest with its camphor trees. He had to admit that it was a beautiful and relatively easy journey considering his recent horrible jungle forays looking for Shayde. They stayed low, making Goselt think that their mission was something of a secret or there were prying eyes. He stared into the south where they were heading and just then, a  line of livid, unnatural violet limned the horizon. The beauty of the flight vanished and he had questions but there would be no answers over the wind or threshing wings. He slumped over the pommel of the saddle, feeling the familiar sharpness of being played the fool.

“Wonder if the priory will kill me this time, Bitey?”

If the griffon understood him, Goselt could not tell but he continued flying steady and swift into the south. He watched the glowing horizon and it filled him with the familiar dread of an elder dragon.

[splendidpuffings]

Guilt by Priory

“That's him.”

Goselt looked up from the hasty repairs he was making to his boots. He wasn't expecting anyone to be pointing at him; it had been several days since he had done anything deserving notice, legal or illegal. He managed what he hoped was a winning smile. The two asura before him wore the slate blue livery of the Durmand Priory. His smile wavered as he recognized the older of the two, Arcanist Brigga, who he had promised a number of things years ago. He decided to feign confusion, purposefully quirking a brow, but he knew Brigga was observant. “Can I help you?”

Brigga glared at him, her grey eyes serious as murder. “Our records show that you have left a debt of four hundred twenty two gold, seven silver and fourteen copper for various wound treatments, lodging, damage to a priceless artifact and failure to provide promised services to the Durmand Priory. If you can help us out with an expedition, we will erase your debts, or we will be going through various courts and ... routes to clear our ledgers.”

“I probably can get you the money.” He lied but he felt like he was wilting under that stare. He looked over their heads, surveying the annoyingly wide, clean, uncluttered streets of Lion's Arch for routes of escape. He could flee again to the Mist Wars but he had just come from there and he was bone tired. Still, he felt like he needed to respond to the accusations so he remained seated, setting his boots aside. “The priceless artifact was stuck to Arcanist Dotta's  face trying to kill her, so of course I destroyed it.”

“Was pitching it into a forge and hammering it entirely necessary though? It was an irreplaceable Orrian relic.” The shorter, younger asura said, her pale eyes were stern. He found himself trying to place her face but several years had come and gone since he'd had anything to do with Durmand.

“I didn't want it on my face either.”

“You would have been fine, you weren't bleeding.” Brigga said, “And what were you doing in the laboratory?”

“If you’re insinuating I was stealing something, I wasn’t.” He growled, “and I happen to be full of blood, I was in fear of my life. I don’t owe for that, it needed destroying.”

“In addition you did promise to deliver samples to the priory from the Maguuma Jungle forward camps. The samples were never received though the chain of custody clearly....”

“There was a war going on. I lost them in a fight and barely escaped with my life.”

“You never reported this, what are we to think other than you took our pay and absconded with the samples? Why not write me a letter?”

“I did report it to the Pact Commander when I reached the base.”

“Are you telling me you forgot my name, Gos? The person who taught you...”

“No I didn’t, Arcanist Brigga.” Goselt sighed, feeling truly awful as he looked down at her, “Look, I was fighting for my life, forgive me for forgetting about a box of vials. As I said, I can pay you back, but I am not going on an expedition.”

“There is also the matter of your living at the priory for six months.”

“While I was in your service.”

“You were never sworn into our order and you also invited your lover and various friends of not the best character to stay in your lodgings.”

“They also helped out with the Pact efforts. We had to stay somewhere, Lion's Arch was a steaming ruin.”

“We had perfectly good refugee camps for that.” The asura rolled her eyes, “Are you saying we were supposed to evict you and your friends? None of the household wanted to go near you and your gang, drunk, carrying on, armed to the teeth and using magic in an unsafe manner....”

“Gang?” Goselt snorted, “If we had been told we weren't wanted, we would have left. We weren't savages.”

Brigga pulled a sheaf of documents from a large bag she was carrying and shook them at him. “I have read all of these reports and people were terrified of you and your mate Shady.”

“Shayde.” Goselt corrected, “My wife’s name is Shayde.”

“There are no less than one hundred and seventeen documented threats, inferred threats, vandalisms and breakages reported during your stay.” She shook the documents at him. “I thought I knew you Gos and I know you pride yourself on being a good human but these documents say otherwise.”

“We could be a little... uncultured.” He shifted on the bench and the other asura stepped back and reached for the greatsword sheathed on her back, Brigga made a calming hand gesture and she stopped though her posture did not relax. He suddenly felt a terrible tide of remorse; he knew his friends and especially his lover could be a bit intimidating. Personally he had never gone the route of a ruffian – he lacked the aptitude and stature for complete thuggery.  “So why do you need me in particular?”

“You have something of an expertise in artifacts related to Lyssa, having been an adherent and priest of her order. Also we need someone who is good at climbing and doesn't mind tight spaces.”

“I mind them.” Goselt crossed his arms to give the impression of stubbornness, but he already knew he was going. He felt ground down. He had forgotten a lot of things, especially all the help he’d been given. He owed Brigga at least this one thing.

“It will just be simple ruin exploration.”  Brigga said, “In Elona.”

[pulledrosepetals]

dont use dyes with leather pants that make you look like you have no pants on.  people get traumatized like me today

[splendidpuffings]

If you have poor graphics or turn them down, just about any brown or pale pair of pants will make people around you look nude. Then of course there are people like me who purposely put swindler’s pants on my male thief and dye them skin tone >>

[evilsupplyco]

Ravens

Ravens are freelance messengers. If you have something to say and trouble saying it, find one and tell it your secret, tell it who to find, and pay the requested price. Because of their wondrous nature, the recipient does not need to be alive.

But do not send lies or mistruths. They will know, either immediately or in short order.

Their obsidian eyes see much and their network is deeper than is easily comprehensible, even to the very learned.

[splendidpuffings]

I have a raven that routinely sits in my backyard tree. My secrets are safe with this raven as long as they are fart sounds. See, pretty much this bird’s entire repertoire appears to be fart noises whenever he or she sees me. Which I must say is a truthful noise and universally understood by everyone, including in all likelihood, the dead. 

[midnight-femme-deactivated20201]

i mean…

[splendidpuffings]

I really want there to be a Recycler specialization in the next Guild Wars 2 expansion.  Because I want to see things like “LF Recycler, must have Mulch trait unlocked.”

[splendidpuffings]

The whole time...

My sister’s charr necromancer was teaching Aurene the baby dragon to be good and wholesome I was pretty much in stitches. Yes, learn your morals from a huge bloodthirsty murderous charr. She’s going to turn out bad...

[70sscifiart]

1969

[wilwheaton]

Coming next year: The Dream Poopers

[billysquirrel]

Can we talk about why that poor man has no genitals? How does he pee!?

[splendidpuffings]

It’s 0-gravity... it’s floated away and is tumbling through space like the 2001 monolith.

[splendidpuffings]

My alt account’s ranger Mock A Day, level 63 in Cursed Shore wearing “I picked this up off the ground” equipment.

[pinkalpbananas-blog]

Remember that time you didn’t have infinite gliding? 

[splendidpuffings]

Going through this on my alt account right now...

[splendidpuffings]

1 and 2 - Dale Tahl. She’s a remake of my Guild Wars (1) ranger.

3 Felonina Buckets. Female human thief. She steals a lot so that’s her name.

4. Aadri. Female asura ranger (her bear Misero’s butt is in the background) Aadri is the progeny of a successful professor in Rata Sum. Unfortunately she’s not very successful by traditional asura standards. She roams the wilderness and cities with her menagerie of cybernetically enhanced pets. Unusually for an asura she’s pretty soft hearted and very helpful. She also likes to dress up as animals/monsters to soothe them, as seen here in her “fire drake” costume.

[splendidpuffings]

1 - Nimrah Coalcub - Female Charr Guardian. Though she has her warband name still, she lost her warband years ago in Arah and is a gladium. She quenches her fury and grief in battle.

2 and 3 - Rrael Mindsplitter - A female charr mesmer. She works for the priory and employs a lot of mind games and theatricality when on a mission.

4 Fergyn - male sylvari elementalist - He’s tired of your shit.

5 - Sir Gossington - Male human revenant. Kind of a joke character based on my main Goseldt being referred to as Gossington the Bossington.

6. Mokni Ravenscraft - Male Norn Guardian. He had a vision from the raven spirit that his fate lies to the west and so he wanders looking for it.

7 and 8 Tunnu. Male Asura Necromancer. Tunnu pretends to be an innocent and forgetful old asura. He’s in fact a criminal in hiding. Look at that face though, how could he be evil?

[splendidpuffings]

1 and 2 - Luur Brazenguard. Male charr warrior, Luur is brain damaged and understands only limited things. His warband just points him at things and he kills. On his own he is inadvertently gentle and easy to get along with.

3 and 4 - Ghost of Time. Male human mesmer. His actual name is Graham Lessar. He exists or perhaps lives in a hallucination where he is an angelic hero warrior in the mists (the Ghost of Time) and on the mortal plane he is a clueless traveling salesperson of quack remedies made of various awful ingredients.

5 and 6 - Tariq Anadel. Female human engineer. She’s new and does not have a backstory at the moment.

7, 8 and 9 - Lwyn Onn. Named for the Welsh song Llwyn Onn “The Ash Grove”. Lwyn is a happy and carefree guardian who likes to die often in wvw.

[splendidpuffings]

I felt sorry for them but helping them would mean playing in Arah.

[splendidpuffings]

Meanwhile in wvw, the pirate ship meta has evolved.

[splendidpuffings]

Beware the toxic jungle moth.

Gos’ condition damage set is also lovingly called the “venom fairy” because not all fairies were nice.