FA+
Shop
839
Views
Views
35
Favorites
Favorites
Category
Artwork (Digital) / Fanart
Species Charr
Size 831 x 1200
File Size 1.02 MB
Report this content
More from Rivelta
Listed in Folders
My name was Fleshbite. Bite warband. We were stationed east of the Dragonbrand, reinforcing some Sentinel outposts, when scouts came back reporting a massive group of Branded ogres, each larger than a war wagon. Scouts figured they were heading directly towards our base. My legionnaire was killed during first contact as well. Never liked her, but as lieutenant, I was given command of Bite in her place. We sent every warband and wagon we had to crush those monsters, but…odds were against us in a straight-up engagement. Each one of those brutes could bite a soldier in two and have five more for lunch. Anyways, through some brilliant plan the rust-sucking centurion concocted, Bite was to lead a charge towards the enemy flank through a narrow valley, while the rest of the artillery hammered them from some nearby cliffs. We already knew standard-fare Branded littered the choke, and the opening would just funnel us towards the oversized monsters. This flank was a one-way trip.
My friends, my kin, my warband. Reduced to fifteen seconds of distraction, so that a few more shells could find their mark. We wouldn’t have survived, so I made a call. Cent’ got his tail fluffed over my decision, even though the artillery strike alone worked. It was nearly two seasons in the stockades – me alone, thank iron, until I was transferred.
The Hell warband. Blood Legion’s dirty little secret, although not so much these days. A group of criminals, turncoats, and deserters that the legion wants dead but still wants to milk for their last droplets of usefulness – and I was their newest recruit. Every frontline charge a ‘band passes on, every deep recon that a centurion needs but can’t afford the risk , every time a tribune wants to be freed from some ‘quiet problem’, we do it. Survive for a year and you get back your freedom. Half of the newbloods don’t make their first season. The ones that make two, I can count on my claws. Legionnaire status is given to the longest-surviving member, which used to change every other sortie. Any disobedience is met with execution, either through court martial or by our own swords. Blood Legion would kill us all if they ever sniffed out any hints of uselessness or hesitance. The orders we receive, the battles we fight…no ego lasts more than a few weeks. Hard to say your paws are clean after you’ve captured a Flame Legion prison outnumbered four-to-one, and then you’re told to…execute any maimed prisoners. Gassed out and choking on smoke, you’re the one to hold a blade to some poor bastard’s throat, telling him that the legions aren’t spending the effort to save you.
Me? I’m one of three who ever survived the year. The other two, they were condemned long before I ever joined. I’m told that they ran off into freedom and never looked back, but unlike them, I chose to stay. Getting close to year-and-a-half by now. Other charr, they think I’m a sucker for punishment, or that some god has decided I haven’t suffered enough, but things are a lot simpler than that.
The rest of the warband, they’re all pathetic. Cowards, lowlifes, useless insects that aren’t worth the air they breathe. They’re paralyzed by fear or give up on getting out. Dead charr walking, they think. But everyone deserves a second chance, no matter their past crimes, or the monstrosities we’re forced to do now. And I’m the one that gives them that shot, because I’ve earned my share already. You can cry and pray to a dead god for mercy, or you can fight and claw your way out of Hell. If you run and hide, I’ll end you myself. But if you choose to fight, choose to have hope…I’ll be there beside you, glyphs ready and sword in hand.
Some charr call me a demon, just for staying with these lost souls. Hmph, I suppose they aren’t wrong.
- Urraz Hellion
While trawling through a thesaurus looking for an appropriate title for Kyra number two (Geldra Vaporstep’s actual Kyra), I came across the word “hellion”. I started wondering what the Hell warband would look like, and after some daydreaming, this was the result.
Urraz Hellion © me
Art © Crowbar
GW2 and charr © ArenaNet
My friends, my kin, my warband. Reduced to fifteen seconds of distraction, so that a few more shells could find their mark. We wouldn’t have survived, so I made a call. Cent’ got his tail fluffed over my decision, even though the artillery strike alone worked. It was nearly two seasons in the stockades – me alone, thank iron, until I was transferred.
The Hell warband. Blood Legion’s dirty little secret, although not so much these days. A group of criminals, turncoats, and deserters that the legion wants dead but still wants to milk for their last droplets of usefulness – and I was their newest recruit. Every frontline charge a ‘band passes on, every deep recon that a centurion needs but can’t afford the risk , every time a tribune wants to be freed from some ‘quiet problem’, we do it. Survive for a year and you get back your freedom. Half of the newbloods don’t make their first season. The ones that make two, I can count on my claws. Legionnaire status is given to the longest-surviving member, which used to change every other sortie. Any disobedience is met with execution, either through court martial or by our own swords. Blood Legion would kill us all if they ever sniffed out any hints of uselessness or hesitance. The orders we receive, the battles we fight…no ego lasts more than a few weeks. Hard to say your paws are clean after you’ve captured a Flame Legion prison outnumbered four-to-one, and then you’re told to…execute any maimed prisoners. Gassed out and choking on smoke, you’re the one to hold a blade to some poor bastard’s throat, telling him that the legions aren’t spending the effort to save you.
Me? I’m one of three who ever survived the year. The other two, they were condemned long before I ever joined. I’m told that they ran off into freedom and never looked back, but unlike them, I chose to stay. Getting close to year-and-a-half by now. Other charr, they think I’m a sucker for punishment, or that some god has decided I haven’t suffered enough, but things are a lot simpler than that.
The rest of the warband, they’re all pathetic. Cowards, lowlifes, useless insects that aren’t worth the air they breathe. They’re paralyzed by fear or give up on getting out. Dead charr walking, they think. But everyone deserves a second chance, no matter their past crimes, or the monstrosities we’re forced to do now. And I’m the one that gives them that shot, because I’ve earned my share already. You can cry and pray to a dead god for mercy, or you can fight and claw your way out of Hell. If you run and hide, I’ll end you myself. But if you choose to fight, choose to have hope…I’ll be there beside you, glyphs ready and sword in hand.
Some charr call me a demon, just for staying with these lost souls. Hmph, I suppose they aren’t wrong.
- Urraz Hellion
While trawling through a thesaurus looking for an appropriate title for Kyra number two (Geldra Vaporstep’s actual Kyra), I came across the word “hellion”. I started wondering what the Hell warband would look like, and after some daydreaming, this was the result.
Urraz Hellion © me
Art © Crowbar
GW2 and charr © ArenaNet
Category Artwork (Digital) / Fanart
Species Charr
Size 831 x 1200px
File Size 1.02 MB
Comments