btw lemme introduce you to my lesbian charrgirls, Anette Harvestmoon (weaver, top) and Jordan Harvestzeal (troubadour, bottom)
Lore below the cut:
Anette is actually one of Rytlock's other cubs. She's the one with the closest relationship to him because while the others didn't know what to do when he reached out, she let him in her life immediately and built that relationship. He keeps her a bit secret as his infamy means she could get targeted, but he visits every weekend. Anette is a very sweet, gentle, loving girl who uses her magic to nurture people best she can. She has her harsh side, but she doesn't like caving to anger unless she feels it's needed. She's in Iron Legion and is her warband's Centurion, her value as a medic and inventor is nearly unmatched.
Her mate, Jordan Harvestzeal, is a Priory Scholar of charr culture. Not wars, however, their everyday lives and their joys long before human colonization and how they stayed happy during the wars. She seeks to keep alive that joy, bring their folk art and music to the modern era and let their legends live on. She's harsher than her mate, she seeks joy but stomps down cruelty with a vigor that the cruel might try to pin as cruel as well. She actually babysat Bangar briefly to interrogate him on Blood Legion culture he intentionally warped and obfuscated to bring their real inheritance back to the forefront - Commander's idea to 'loan' him to the Priory for that purpose, although it took some convincing of Cre. The morale Legionnaire Harvestzeal brings to the Iron Legion is matched by none, and many charr gather around to listen to her music whenever she wanders by. She plays the slap bass, piano, and the violin.
Now that I am, slowly starting to vibe with the Charr civil war. Thinking of things.
Pythus, a Charr who was fully sold on Bloods "live hard die young" warrior culture. never bothered to learn much more than that because battle was all he ever really wanted.
Then the civil war happens, and suddenly nobody trusts eachother. All of a sudden fights aren't a thing you drink over together with your buddy. All of a sudden there's a nuance you never bothered to get the critical thinking skills to understand, and then you end up as Legionnaire because somehow you convinced people that you could do that, and you suspect it really was because no one better was left.
But also how he actually has other people now who believe he actually can do better. And Who will drag him kicking and screaming into being a smarter Charr.
For such an intensely, integrally military culture, it’s kind of frustrating that charr lore has so few established ranks (tribune, centurion, legionnaire, lieutenant, quaestor, scrapper).
Do you guys think the organization of the legions actually stops there, or are there other, non-canon intermediary ranks you use?
For now, I’m subbing in US army terms to show career progression and hierarchical relationships in my charr lore, but I’m aiming for a more elegant solution.
What's your take on the exciting sensation of basically every Charr having PTSD thanks to the horrors of war and fighting against friends and family? I had firsthand experience getting slapped in the face with the cache champions in Drizzlewood coast!
Foolish little me read a some of a journal for Yahuk Fellstrike, my warbandmate from the main story. Then a few days letter I read the whole thing and realized the champion I helped slay to open the caches WAS Yahuk. He got namelessly cut down by his old Centurion and I didn't even know it was him until long after the fact. That one really hit me outta left field. The commander never had time to visit their old warband, and eventually some defected and end up dead by their own blade. Big funny cats made me surprisingly emotional
i think guild wars handles charr attitudes to war in an interesting way! i love the drizzlewood stuff especially, if only for a way to check in on characters (dinky i missed u). i think a lesser story would present the charr as These Guys Always Love War All The Time but i appreciate that attitudes vary from person to person, from your warmongering imperator to that farmer in gendarran fields who left the legions to live peacefully. i look forward to seeing how the story develops for them now that the civil war has ended, though with cantha we'll be waiting for quite a while!
Summoned by Rytlock Brimstone to face punishment over the previous night's deeds, Cassius grapples with guilt and remorse for the crime that led to the injury of a fellow soldier at the behest of his sire's strange dream for the legions. Very short story below!
AKA Cassius did a bad thing and now he faces the consequences
(This is a VERY early scene I was thinking about a LOT as I do my play-through of base game)
With no sleep the night prior, Cassius had been sitting at his desk for hours, head planted firmly in the palms of his paws, a summons was delivered not long ago and laid before him, very pointedly left on the blank side as he hoped it would simply disappear.
“Tribune Brimstone.” The signature at the bottom of the summons read, not ‘Rytlock,’ or the even more informal ‘Ryt’ that he was known to use with Cassius for short notice and that alone made stomach drop further than it has in any of his recent field assignments.
He knew what this was about, and the astonishment lingered. Despite covering up his tracks and his sire's, he had even made it seem like no crime had been committed at all. Cassius thought to himself, "What was I thinking? It was treason on both our ends. I was an idiot for believing him, I deserve whatever happens."
His mind raced back to the promises of last night, of revolutionizing the legions, his sire's assurances that no cub would face the horrors he had endured nor have to grow up struggling with no support for similar situations as his. Cassius, however, knew it was too good to be true. A good man was comatose because of him, and he felt responsible. "Change the legions, might as well make me Khan Ur while you’re at it."
The walk to Brimstone's office felt agonizing, minutes stretching into an eternity due to his overwhelming guilt. Rounding the stairs, he tried hard not to glance out over the balcony and over towards the Asuran portal where it all transpired, but he couldn't resist.
With a curt nod to the charr standing guard outside the Tribune’s office, Cassius stalled a moment and took a deep breath, hearing from his flank; “Brimstone’s pissed, hate to be the guy who got on his bad side.”
“Agreed.” Cassius couldn’t tell if he was being mocked or not, but it mattered little. As he entered the office, it felt as if the air was sucked out of the room once it was just the two of them, despite having half expected to find his sire dragged in here as well, bound in cuffs.
“Ryt–” Cassius started, hands folded behind his back in respect as he straightened up, he could anticipate the anger in the Tribune’s voice.
“Brimstone, Witherpaw, it’s Tribune Brimstone.” Rytlock growled, Cassius couldn’t see his face as he stood by the office’s window, back turned. “You know why you are here, did you think I wouldn’t know?”
Cassius gulped. “...Sir, It was a mistake, I don’t know what went through my mind–”
Rytlock spun around, slamming his fist against his desk, causing a ruckus; startling and silencing the younger charr who still stood firm. “Are you stupid, Witherpaw? Or do you just think I am?
Cassius didn’t respond, grimacing as he couldn’t find the strength to meet his superior’s gaze.
"You were such a good soldier, did everything I asked, went above and beyond with little asking from me," Rytlock's gaze unmoving, "And yet, you were so eager to throw everything away like this? Because your sire filled your head with lies?"
After a brief pause and no response, he continued. “Even I used to think Ash was stupid to let someone as arrogant and sloppy as Oberon be a spy, but maybe I was wrong if he was able to pull the wool over your eyes, of all people!”
"I apologize, sir. It’s just, he’s my—Oberon, he gave me reasons to trust in what he was doing, even if not for those purposes, he would have no reason—or even ability—to use that information for harm, you’ve said you trusted my call in these sorts of situations." Cassius spoke up, his voice notably quieter.
“That was before you got your fellow charr hurt.” Rytlock didn’t yell this time, and yet it felt even worse. "Do you know what power that words can hold for charr like him; charr even worse than him? Thinking like that is dangerous, Witherpaw."
Rytlock spat, his glare burning holes into Cassius who struggled to maintain eye contact. "Thinking like that is what creates defectors, it always does, like... like moths to a flame, THE Flame!"
Behind his back, Cassius’ claws dug into his arms as he weathered the assault. Cassius was much younger than the tribune, but he was no cub. Yet, he felt like a child being scolded by his father, a pet being punished by its owner, he couldn't help but take this treatment on a personal level rather than the interaction between military personnel like he should have.
Eventually, Rytlock sighed. Cassius had been one of the tribune’s most loyal legionnaires in what felt like ages; he didn’t wish to give Cassius more reason to turn on him, that would be a waste of talent. "I could have you executed on the spot, but for both our sakes, we can say this was just another crime being pinned on his back by a rival of his. I trust you."
Cassius kept his head low, and despite the words of reassurance; he simply was too afraid to look up. "More importantly, I already have an inkling as to where and to whom that information is going; it won't prove to be any more trouble for me as far as I am concerned. I am simply disappointed in you."
"You won’t screw up like this again. I have a few assignments coming up that call for my attention, I know I can trust in you to join me." Rytlock grumbled, he approached Cassius and hooked a claw under the younger charr’s chin, tilting his head up to meet his gaze. “There, you will listen and do EXACTLY as I command.”
"Yes, thank you, Tribune Brimstone," Cassius gulped, noting the change in Rytlock’s tone—stern, reassuring, and familiar. "Anything you ask."
