Disclaimer: I do not own Guild Wars in any way, shape, or form. That'd be ANet.
Yes, I'm back from my mysterious hiatus. TEUF will be updated hopefully before the year ends. Been distracted lately.
"Welcome to Lion's Arch!"
"Step right up! One of a kind armour right here!"
"Need a new weapon? Say no more!"
A bustling city of trade, where travelers gather together and chat, trade secrets and lore. Some come from faraway lands, others from Kryta or Ascalon. Some even come from the far Shiverpeaks, escaping from the frost of the north.
A young figure walked through the crowd of people, feminine hands was holding but a simple blue staff, matching the blue set of Ascalonian clothes suited for a typical monk and fitting the figure of a woman. Her brown hair was tied into two buns, a ribbon draped around both. And strapped to her waist was an item bag.
Behind her was a much-taller male, clad in intricate, foreign-looking black armour made of leather. Strapped to his back was a quiver of arrows, a bow on his left shoulder as he followed behind. He wore a rather intimidating mask over his face, a typical Dread Mask.
The monk kept walking on, almost crashing into a person. But the male ranger stopped her in time, grabbing her shoulder.
"Watch where you're going," the stranger grumbled before walking off, eyeballing the pair before walking off towards the square.
"Thanks, Lost," the female said, turning her head up towards the ranger slightly. But her ice-blue eyes never focused on him, or anything for that matter.
The monk turned her head from side to side, seeming to look around for something. Lost sighed, taking off his mask to reveal his face, long, earthy-brown hair falling neatly on his shoulders.
"Merchant's over this way," he said, nudging her in the general direction. The brown-haired monk flared red instantly.
"I-I know that! I'm not an idiot like you!"
"This from the girl who spaces out when she's in foreign territory... "
They went to the merchant, selling the things they gained from their travels. It had accumulated to quite a bit, what with fighting the Charr and various monsters like Mergoyles on the way to Lion's Arch. The trip had not been easy.
"So what's our next plan of action, Luria?"
The female monk looked again at the ranger as she finished selling. After pocketing the money she sighed softly, turning to Lost and folding her arms.
"We request help from the White Mantle," she explained, soon leading him away to talk by the great monument, where fewer people stood. "They can help in our fight against the Charr."
"I dunno," the ranger started, looking around Lion's Arch. "They have their own problems to deal with, too."
"Then we help them as well."
"What about Rurik's death? We have to tell someone soon."
Luria opened her mouth to speak but then shut it again when she realized she could think of nothing to say. Memories of but a few weeks ago flooded her mind, remembering how the Ascalonian prince had been trapped by an avalanche of all things, truly the one thing that seemed able to stop him.
"We'll tell someone when we have to. For now, let's just think of getting the Krytan's help."
A commotion nearby caught their attention, the young monk and ranger looking around for the source. They saw a crowd of people gathering. Having nothing better to do, Lost and Luria decided to look.
It was a scrimmage, from what it seemed. A warrior clad in Charr-hide armour had drawn his weapon upon a slim figure, a female from the looks of it, dressed in a rather impressive get-up. From the blue-and-white corset upon her torso to the long, blue skirt with what looked like white ornaments hanging from a belt. She wore simple sandles that roughly resembled ones from Ascalon. She also wore a hood over her head which extended to cover her shoulders. In her hands, which were shielded by vambraces, was a scythe of all things.
"It's a Dervish," Lost explained, catching the look of curiousity upon Luria's face. "They're from Elona and Vabbi."
"Isn't that pretty far from here?" the young monk asked.
"You could say that... "
The warrior charged at the dervish with a feral battle cry, sword raised high over his head. The hooded female only seemed to smirk, pulling her hood over her eyes before raising her scythe to block the attack. However, the warrior didn't appear to be one to give up easily, swinging his weapon back and thrusting it back in for another attack.
The hooded figure seemed to giggle, sidestepping the attack, throwing the unsuspecting warrior off balance. Next the dervish gripped her scythe firmly, doing a simple and elegant twirl, the handle of her weapon shooting out and smacking the warrior's back. Just the stance she took seemed to elicit awe from the crowd, though she seemed to only be aggravating the warrior.
"You're just asking to be smacked, Elonian," the Charr-clad warrior growled low, turning on his heel to face the dervish.
"Don't be so rude," she said, lowering her hood and letting her long, black hair fall neatly into place over her shoulders. The man only charged forward again, sword ready to strike. But she ducked under it, scythe once more shooting out in a sweeping arc and sneaking behind the warrior. She smiled casually as his eyes went wide as saucers, stepping towards him and leaning up to his face.
"That's Castellan Faller to you."
Lost and Luria watched as the crowd cheered, watched as the dervish released her victim. The young monk seemed to be hypnotized, her ice-blue eyes never leaving the foreign female.
"You know," the brown haired ranger started, tucking his Dread Mask away into his item bag, "we've been pretty lucky with just the two of us. We'll need someone with close combat if we plan to go farther."
"Is the great Lost actually doubting his abilities in combat?" Luria asked, eying him for a moment before turning and walking away, ignoring the scowl he gave her.
"You know what I mean, Luria! And at least I can actually fight... "
"I can fight!"
"Whacking things on the head with your staff doesn't count."
The monk glared at the ranger who just scowled right back. Then she spun around, folding her arms again.
"Either way, it's not like we could afford a mercenary now. And I don't think we'll find one willing to stick around until we do have the money."
"Today might be your lucky day, then~"
Ranger and monk jumped, Lost slightly startled by the pair of female arms snaking around his waist from behind. Both travelers realized it to be the dervish from the earlier scrimmage, dark eyes looking seductively up at the brown-haired male. Up close, she was actually fairly tall, perhaps only one or two inches shorter than Lost.
"I'm not sure I trust eavesdroppers," Luria remarked, scowling at the dervish.
"Relax, child. I don't mean any harm," Faller replied coolly, coming out from behind Lost. She didn't seem to let him go, though. "I just want to propose a deal."
"We don't have any money."
"You're quite the stiff, aren't you?"
"As much as I love a good catfight," Lost interrupted, taking the dervish's arms from around his waist and turning to look at her, "can we get to the point?"
"Alright, alright. My deal is this."
Faller stepped back, one hand on her hip while the other shouldered her scythe.
"You take me to the Temple of Ages and pay me ten gold pieces a kill, and I'll help you as long as you need it," she proposed, dark eyes surveying the both.
Lost and Luria exchanged looks, the monk scowling and shaking her head. Some sort of conversation must have gone on, though, for she sighed and simply turned around while the ranger addressed the dervish.
"Alright. You've got a deal."