[Guild Wars 2] A Norn shaped Hangover

(An old Story from a few years ago, but It gives a bit of an intro to a few of my characters that I plan to Roleplay. One of them may look familiar, but he’s a wholly different character than his WoW version. This story takes place shortly before Heart of Thorns.)

Riathan lay strewn across an unmade bed when Beregor found him. Three different empty bottles of various liquors lay within his reach. The large norn had a distinctly unpleasant taste in his mouth just looking at it. His fearless leader, laying like a cretin in a seedy room. He stomped in unceremoniously and lifted the bed, watching Riathan tumble out of it and roll with his back to the wall. Beregor picked up one of the bottles. “You know I enjoy a good ale, but to say this isn’t like you is a bit of an understatement, eh?” The gravely deep bass of the Norn’s voice was like a thousand skritt chattering in his skull. Riathan’s slightly slurred words were more from the tumbling out of bed than the hangover at this point. “Who turned back on the drill?” The struggle with which he took to focus his gaze on the large norn standing in front of him was quite a thing. Then the room started spinning, and he took a moment to empty his stomach, retching.

Beregor’s face went from impassive to enraged in short order, walking over to a window and practically shoving it open. Sunlight burst into the room quickly, assaulting the sensitive and bloodshot eyes of the human that lay sprawled against the wall. An arm weakly rose to try and block the rays of light. “Close it!” He was still practically slurring the words.

 

Sighing and shaking his head. “You’re a mess. Good thing your mate hasn’t come looking for you. She’d strip your hide if she saw you like this, Bordren.” Both of them knew that wasn’t true, for the most part. Elianna was good to him, but she’d be terribly distraught at both what happened and the effect. “It’s been three days. It’s time to dust yourself off and get to your feet. We have work to do.” Bleary eyed, Riathan stared at him. “Work?” The burly norn let out a wicked laugh and grin. “Oh aye lad, time to get you back into fightin’ shape.” The sound of Riathan’s groan was going to pale in comparison with the one he’d give a few hours later when he’d collapse, bruised and exhausted, at the end of their first sparring session.

 

The norn was merciless. He took training so exceedingly serious, it was a small miracle he wasn’t actually dead at this point. Beregor was wielding a training sword and mace. The sword blunted and the mace padded. Riathan was fairly certain Beregor could still kill a few dozen things with either. He was gripping a training staff, not his usual flame wreathed staff. His arms were tired, his legs felt like they were made of a mixture of jelly and lead. The three days spent drinking and hollow had left him weak and a bit of a laggard. Sluggish responses had left their mark.

 

“Has your failure ruined you so?” Beregor asked. It was the most he said in the last hour, the only words up to this point had been the smacks and clacks of the training weapons. “You’re not the man who convinced me to join his band to continue the fight where the old one left off.” Riathan took a deep breath, even if it stung his lungs and dry throat. “Maybe… maybe I don’t see a point anymore. I fight and I fight, and nothing but ruin and sadness is left in the end. Maybe I’m not cut out for work like this.” He closed his eyes and rested his head against his staff.

 

A scream split the silence. Riathan lurched to his feet, blue flames wrapping around the training staff. He relaxed when he saw a rather mirthful Sylvari Ranger sitting on the nearby fence, his mouth closing from the open scream he just let out. A fernhound nuzzling into his open palm. “Not cut out for the work, eh? You’re always the first to come to someone’s aid. You can’t even stop yourself. You just need to learn to control that rage.” Eiranor spoke smoothly, the glow of the unique face he had shining softly in the waning light. The norn and sylvari both looked at their commander. “We’re here for you boss, but you need to figure out what you’re doing here.” Riathan nodded, sitting on a bench and propping his training staff next to it. “I know, I know… just give me some more time. I promise, no more booze.” That point had been hammered home a few dozen times already by Beregor during their training session.

 

“I’ll figure something out.”

“You’d better!” Came a raucous call from the other side of the training area, as a familiar asymmetrical bob showed into view. “My cousin can’t afford to be a shiftless layabout!” Riathan for the first time in a few days, actually cracked a small smile, looking over at his cousin. Rynn Bordren, bounty hunter extraordinaire, finally trying to become legitimate. Flanking her were a pair of polar opposites, a rather dour looking Norn Woman, piercing blue eyes and a chattering bone minion hopping at her feet.   On the other side was a sylvari woman clad in purple who was gazing at Eiranor, a wide smile on her face. She blinked forward in a burst of purple magic, and gave him a hug! “Eiranor! It has been so long!”

Riathan, still sweating and aching, managed to raise a tired eyebrow at his cousin. “Gyllia Ravensdottir, and Jellanah. Two more recruits I thought might be helpful!”

The slumping of Riathan’s head was either exasperation or relief, it was hard for most of them to tell. Inside, he was more than glad. Maybe more allies would come in the coming fight against new threats over the horizon. But at least his closest friends had this stubborn desire to not leave him alone. Even when he knew he needed to not be.