Opening Notes: This story assumes that the reader is somewhat familiar with the game of Guild Wars and the sequel Guild Wars 2. I did not want to completely world build on a simple fan fiction for those who are not. However, most fantasy based MMORPGs fall into similar categories so someone who has played them should be able to follow the tale. The main characters names are taken from ones I created on the Sea of Sorrows server in GW2. The character history is based on characters I created in original Guild Wars.
Fantasia Stargazer looked back over her shoulder at the losing battle behind her. Her guild had been on a 'hunting' expedition against the Sons of Svanir but instead found themselves overwhelmed when a champion arrived to rout them. The champion had passed through their ranks slashing armor and breaking bodies with its raw power. She looked to see her fallen family and friends vanish as the Asura runestones pulled their corpses back to mystic waypoints to be healed and revived. That comfort was lost to Fantasia as her personal stone had been lost during the battle. Her main weapon; a magic scepter; lay bent in half nearby so she could not fight back either. She could only hold back a sob as she cradled her broken right arm and limped away due to a massive gash on her leg in an attempt to flee. The blood stained the snow behind her would be giving the ice brood wolves an easy trail to follow.
As she pushed through the snowdrifts, she thought back on her life to this point. She had grown up in the Blazeridge Mountains far from this place. The Blazeridge Mountains were nothing like the Shiverpeaks. Winter only had a brief grasp on her homeland. It was a thin range separating the southern border of the broad Plain of Ascalon from the Crystal Desert, now sometimes being referred to as the Crystal Plains as the lands there were now being watered by the diverted Elon River. Life in the Blazeridge was hard but it was where her family and clan dwelled for centuries.
Clan Stargazer had its humble origins with one simple warrior named Rondar. The orphan street child grew up with dreams of great things in his future. His thirst for life and adventure took him from one end of Tyria to the other in the generation before the Searing. He fought in the Guild Wars and strode across battlefields in Ascalon, Kryta, Maguuma and even Orr before it fell. He claimed no affiliation to any guild but he found work with many as a mercenary in those troubled times. Two things about his legend in the clan could be confirmed. The first was that he returned home with a near mountain of loot. The second was the reputation that followed him for the rest of his life.
It seemed there were two things Rondar could always find; treasures and bordellos. A visit to one was soon followed by a visit to the second. In his travels, he left behind a large number of illegitimate children scattered across the length and breadth of Tyria. Many would never be known but over a dozen had inherited his thirst for adventure and searched him out in their young adulthood. Rondar had never married or had family before so their arrival pleased him. He welcomed all of them with open arms and took them into his home. Thus the guild of Clan Stargazer was born.
The Searing of Ascalon was a turning point for the small family guild. Many members followed the path of Prince Rurik west to Kryta and were among those that affected the future of the continent. The Flameseeker Prophecies were completed by others but the Clan was among those who aided those famous few. More adventures followed for the ones that left. The guild made its presence known across the sea in Cantha and in the distant Elona. A few even ventured into the Far North and mingled with the Norn in the time of the Destroyers and the Vanishing of the Dwarves. All eventually returned home, many with spouses in tow. The Clan was varied and a mix of many cultures and beliefs but above all else they were Clan, they were Family. For a few years that was enough.
The arrival in the region of the Ebon Vanguard was taken with a grain of salt. Their small fortress of Ebonhawke was not regarded well by the Clan. The Ebon Vanguard tried to keep it secret as they built it into a modest redoubt to strike at the Charr who now controlled much of the Plain. Refugees and displaced guilds flooded the Blazeridge as the Charr took control of the approaches and passes to the Shiverpeaks in the west. Those of able body joined together in mutual defense and contributed much in their time. Thus Clan Stargazer fused with other guilds to become the Defenders of the Southern Pass.
The Fall of Ascalon changed everything. From the tall peaks at the northern edge of the Blazeridge, one could look out over the vast plain that made Ascalon. The Charr had made their final push at the last city, Ascalon itself. The light of the Foefire rose high over the land in a column of brilliance signifying the end of Ascalon as a nation. Now the Charr ruled the Plain completely.
The new guild was soon faced with a dilemma. Without the resources of the Plain, life would be harder and the Charr would eventually venture into their homelands. Most of the guild was no longer blood of the Stargazers so it was an easy majority that voted to join with the Ebon Vanguard in supporting Ebonhawke.
Fantasia shook her head to clear it of history. She needed to find shelter before she became a part of it. The icebrood were getting close. Her blood in the snow made for an easy trail after all. She needed to break the pursuit. The young Mesmer hoped that the cliff ahead was a small one as she could not manage a steep descent right now.
Her hopes were dashed as she got close to the edge. She was in truth standing a solid snow overhang looking down over a near vertical drop into the valley below. 'Over one hundred feet at least,' Fantasia thought. The woman turned to find her way cut off by several of the ice wolves. This was it; nowhere left to run.
The Mesmer growled back at the beast before her and pulled her offhand pistol and began firing at the creatures before her. She would take as many down with her as she could. Her magic powered the shots so she would not need to reload. Fantasia managed to wound all of the creatures attacking but they were in a frenzy of bloodlust and leaped at her as one. The hard packed snow overhang collapsed under the combined weight of the wolves and the woman into an avalanche falling to the valley below.
'At least I took the mutts that killed me into the Mists with me,' she thought as her world became cold white then impact. Darkness fell.
x-x-x-x-x
Pain echoed in Fantasia's world. Pain and … warmth? Heavy blankets covered her body. She forced one bleary eye open to see a flickering fire with a shadowy indistinct shape moving before it. She tried to speak but only a croak of sound came out.
The shape moved and came closer, blocking out the fire as it approached. A male's voice spoke in a deep bass tone.
"Awake at last, I see," the man said. "A little bit of broth will help."
A hand gently raised her head and slid a pillow under it. With almost agonizing slowness, he fed her sips of broth that tasted of fat and some kind of meat she couldn't identify. Her hunger pressed her to try to gulp it down but the man's steady hand only allowed her small bits at a time, insuring she swallowed each bit before allowing the next. In time, her stomach felt full and she refused any more.
"Sleep little one. Rest and heal. You will be fine in time," the voice said.
Fantasia could not even nod as her fatigue drew her back to darkness.
x-x-x-x-x
Fantasia opened her eyes once more. The pain was nearly gone but her arm and leg reminded her that she was not completely well yet. The room was filled with light this time. She moved to crawl out from the heavy blankets when the man spoke.
"I wouldn't advise getting out of bed yet. It is much colder out of the bed than you realize. You are not Norn so it wouldn't be comfortable for you," the man said in his deep but kind sounding voice.
The word Norn conjured images in Fantasia's mind. They were a strange race that looked like oversized humans. Take a human and make it one and a half times taller and wider and you get an indication of their size. Male Norn ranged from roughly eight to ten feet tall in adulthood and females slightly smaller. But the race differed in that they could partially shape shift to take on the aspects of their totem animal.
"Norn? I didn't think any of you were in this part of the Shiverpeaks. Just Svanirs," Fantasia replied.
"One or two of us. The Svanir leave some of us alone," the man said suddenly sounding bitter. "You make it sound like you think of Svanir and Norn as different peoples."
"Well, they are," Fantasia stated. "Like not all humans are the same. Krytans look different from Canthans who look different from Elonians. Or two trees might both be maples but one is a red maple or a sugar maple. It is just way of clarifying which group one is a part off."
The man chuckled. "I understand," he said.
Fantasia tried to climb out of the bed again in spite of the Norn's admonishment when she realized she was dressed only in a nightdress. At some point in her unconsciousness her clothes had been changed for her. She bit her lip and looked around the dimly lit room as she had to take care of some business. The man pointed at a chamber pot on the bedside table and turned his back. It was bitterly cold in the room once she was out from under the blankets. She quickly did what she needed to do and hurried back under the covers.
"When you are ready to get out of bed full time I will find you something more to wear. The clothes you had on were in tatters after your trip down the mountainside. Only bits of your armor remained intact and what was left is not really worth salvaging. The new snow covered any other bits of your equipment that remained. Your broken pistol was clenched tightly in your hand so that is beside your bed. No other weapons remain."
Fantasia nodded in understanding. She was alive at least. The rest could be replaced.
"I'm called Fantasia Stargazer, a Mesmer, of Clan Stargazer in the Blazeridge, of the guild Defenders of the Southern Pass. Thank you for rescuing me," Fantasia said in a formal tone if introduction.
The man nodded. "Nice name. I am named Sven Olafson, Fourth son of Olaf of the Two Pines Holding, commonly called Sven the Runt," the man said in almost reluctant tones. "So, you told me your use name, but what is your true name?"
Fantasia grumbled a moment before replying, "Molly. My parents named me Molly." Oh how she hated that name. Even her older brother had a lousy name.
"A solid name," Sven replied. "Not as flashy as your use name but I think your parents must have liked it enough to give it to you."
"Well, when adventuring your name is important," Fantasia said with a huff. "No one is going to be impressed by a Mesmer named Molly."
Sven laughed with a hint of bitterness at Fantasia's petulance over her name. "Try being the runt of the litter, little one. I am the shortest Norn you are likely to ever meet while my brothers stand among the largest. I stand just a hair over seven of your human feet tall. I look most other Norn in the chest and the tallest make me look as a child beside them."
Fantasia blushed at the bitterness she heard. The taunts and jeers she had received as a child still haunted her memories and she realized Sven likely had worse. Time to change the subject.
"The Svanir leave you alone out here?" she asked.
"Somewhat," Sven replied vaguely. "At least for now they do." After that Sven turned to the fire and poked at it, saying nothing more until he brought her a bowl of stew to eat. "You should get more rest. You need to finish healing if you are to get out of here before the weather closes the small pass the Svanir don't cover."
Fantasia only nodded as Sven walked out of the room, apparently to go outside.
'That did not go well,' she thought wondering if any other potential rough spots for conversation existed.
x-x-x-x-x
Days passed as Fantasia healed slowly. The break in her arm was the biggest issue but Sven said it was healing well. The gash in her leg would leave a bad scar but Sven had been able to confirm it would heal enough that it would function normally. Sven checked the wound once more before heading to a door he had not opened before. She heard something open and close before he returned carrying some pants and tunic in roughly human size.
"These were my daughter's clothes. Treat them well. You are healthy enough to be out of bed now," was all he said before going outside.
Fantasia looked at the clothes. Her small training as a tailor let her figure out the unfamiliar ties and laces quickly and in minutes she was moving about the homestead. The clothes kept most of the chill off and were a bit tight in some areas but otherwise fit decently enough. She could make some adjustments later if Sven had needle and thread she could use.
She thought about his daughter comment. She had seen no one else in her time here so she assumed the child was absent for other reasons. Fantasia had seen death many times and by the tone Sven used, that was the reason. She moved closer to the hearth and prodded the flames slightly before looking into the stew pot. Sven would constantly add ingredients and ladle out some for each of them at mealtimes. It was close enough to remain warm but not burn. She had learned to cook from her mother as a teen but always on a stove in their house. In the field she never cooked as her friends considered her cooking inedible.
Fantasia peeked out the door. A small courtyard was between the homestead and near identical building opposite it. Little bits of snow dropped into the courtyard on the breeze but from the drifts to the sides, she could see it was well protected from the more harsh winds. Signs of what Sven did with his time were all around. The Norn apparently was a tanner and leatherworker. Dolyak, deer, and wolf hides lay in various piles. The constant cold kept them preserved. A smaller pile of furs told of mink, rabbit and other fur bearing game that Sven worked with. She backed out of the doorway as the chill crept into her bones. Her armor had been enchanted to resist the cold and without it, she felt the cold quickly. Her slight frame did not hold heat very well. She retreated to go sit closer to the fire and wait.
Time passed before Sven returned. She peeked out to see him unstring a bow and leave it in the workshop. A freshly killed deer now hung off to one side. The stew would have venison taste for a few days. She watched as Sven worked almost mechanically dealing with the innards and skin of the deer before cutting the meat into sections and strips until the chill forced her back to the fire.
Sven came in later and looked at Fantasia briefly before pulling a pan from over the hearth and setting it into the fire with some of the fresh venison. He seared the thin cuts to cook them before adding the meat and melted fat to the stew. Fantasia merely kept out of his way as he cooked and cleaned up. A few root vegetables and spices got added before Sven sat at the table nearby.
"I'm not going to bite or attack you little one," Sven said. "No need to look scared."
"Sorry," Fantasia said in a quiet voice. "I'm not used to being injured this long. Asura healing technology and magic tend to make wounds vanish like, well, magic. Sadly some things need time. I am feeling vulnerable right now and sort of like a child again based on the size of everything around me." Fantasia waved her good arm at the Norn sized table and chairs.
Sven chuckled wryly. "Were my family still with me, my wife would have been cuffing me on the back of my head reminding how poor a host I have been up until now." Sadness filled his eyes for a moment before vanishing. "As you are well enough for now, I will allow you use of my daughter's room. It is on the far side of the hearth and the warmest in the Steading. It is private enough for your needs. You would need a lamp most times if the door is closed but safe from the small bad Norn out here."
Fantasia noted the pain in his comments but said nothing else except beyond 'Thank you'.
x-x-x-x-x
More days passed until enough time and magic healed Fantasia's arm as well as her leg. Magic had allowed let the wounds to be healed in a pair of weeks but it was time she could not afford. Winter came early in this part of the Shiverpeaks and cold weather was not her ally. Sven fed her well and was quiet in the homestead but he spent most of his time in his workshop. He allowed her to tailor the clothes to fit better and she responded by making small repairs to his clothes as well. They settled into a silent routine but both knew things would change soon. Sven did fashion a fur vest and leggings for her that fit and kept her body warm. For the leggings, she managed to add the warmth enchantment rune she knew from her tailoring lessons so she was not worried about quickly freezing to death any longer. Sven also presented her with a sturdy pair of rough leather boots after measuring her feet. The leather was scrap as his best hides were saved but she thanked him soundly.
Once she was insured of being warm enough to comfortably move about outside the homestead, she wanted to investigate where she had fallen down the cliff. Her magic was strong enough with no mystic focus to locate a few more objects buried under the snow. She found and dug out her torn backpack with a few of her personal items and money but nothing more was truly useful for magic. Some salvaged items she presented to Sven for his use in leatherworking he took without comment, rough gemstones mainly. The money he shook his head at and said he had no use for it here.
The valley was not large but had a good amount of game in it to survive and prosper on. The Svanir blocked the main entrance but a smaller one led out to a vale they did not block to the west and the lowlands beyond. Krytan lands could be reached that way and Sven made an annual trip to sell his furs and leather during early Thawing.
As her strength and use of her arm returned, Fantasia aided in the chores she could manage. She cleaned in the homestead and helped cook and refilled the woodbin next to the hearth from the main pile outside. Sven did not comment beyond a small thanks and nod of acknowledgement.
The day before Fantasia planned to leave disaster struck. A group of Svanir came to the homestead looking for sport. Sven ordered her to hide in the room she had been using. In clipped tones he admonished her to be completely silent and do nothing until the Svanir had left. Hours passed as she heard the jeers and taunts of the Svanir and their beating of Sven.
Once the Svanir had left, Fantasia ventured out with great caution and found the badly beaten Sven in a puddle of blood. She found he had several broken ribs and a great deal of bruising to his torso and arms. He tried to wave the woman off but she used her unfocused magic to properly set the ribs. Then she did what she could to help him to the large bed she had spent so much time in during the previous weeks.
"They went for painful rather than killing damage, "Sven assured her. "I have had much worse at their hands. Your guild's battle with them last month left them in a sour mood. The magic that pulls the dead and wounded away left them with some of their own dead and no trophies to display. All they have to vent on is me."
"Why not leave and go somewhere else then?" Fantasia asked.
"This is my Steading," Sven merely said as if it explained everything.
"So leave and make a new one," Fantasia pressed.
"You don't understand. All my life, I have been smallest. I was the Runt. The one pushed aside, looked past, ignored. I can't become the Bear, Wolf or Snow Leopard as my older brothers do. It shamed my father greatly to have a Runt as a son. I can feel the ability to change within me but it will not come out. I lived to reach adulthood on my own merits as my father would not raise his hand against me but he also never raised it to my benefit either. I found love with a woman who was looked down on by other Norn as being afraid of battle. We decided to leave our parent's houses together and left the lands of other Norn behind to come here."
"When I arrived with my wife years ago this was untamed land. A vision told me my destiny was here, in this place. I built this Steading. I cut the trees for the buildings. I dug the stones for the hearth. I put my soul into my Steading and the Spirits of the Wild blessed it as I prospered here. My wife and I had a daughter together. I intended to raise her to be strong and proud. I hoped for a son in time as well but the Svanir came from the Far North."
"They came with no warning and claimed the open end of this valley as theirs. I tried to fight but they laughed at me. I could not defeat all of them in battle and was beaten down. They killed my wife Inga and my daughter Brigit before my eyes and left me here in my misery. They return to taunt me and beat me every so often. They told me bluntly that I would only die by my own hand because they would not grant me a warrior's death. So for me it is either take the abuse, die or leave. But I cannot leave. The Spirits remind me that something is coming and that I will live to see it arrive but not when it will happen."
Fantasia could only nod as she understood little of Norn faith but the conviction in Sven's voice told her he would die before he abandoned his Steading.
"But, you should leave, little one. A storm is coming and the pass will be snowed under in its wake. If you do not go now, you will be stuck here for the next six months unless you can sneak past the Svanir. The cold does not hurt a Norn as it does a human. I will be in bed healing for a week but would be fine even if the fire goes out."
Fantasia frowned at Sven's stubborn nature. They were all too similar in that respect. She had seen his wounds and knew he could die from them if he was left alone. She had lost friends to death many times and that hurt. Sven was no one special to her but she did owe him her life. The woman saw Sven already trying to get out of the bed so she made her choice.
She stepped up to the bed and tried to push Sven back down on his back. Even with her full weight leaning on the Norn she could not budge him. She smiled slightly when he chuckled at her attempt.
"Rest, big one. Rest and heal. You will be fine in time," Fantasia said smiling as she bounced comically against Sven's shoulder still trying to budge him. Sven chuckled again as she used his own words against him and lay back to rest.
x-x-x-x-x
The storm Sven had seen coming hit full force the following day. She followed Sven's instructions to hang leather drapes over the openings in the front of the Steading to keep out the blowing snow that managed to get into the lee between the buildings. It left the living area much darker but it remained warm enough even for her to only be slightly uncomfortable when she was not sleeping in her warmer room.
Sven showed his stubbornness by being out of bed on the third day in spite of her determined protests. His only explanation was that the quality of the stew had diminished since he was stuck in the bed. This led Fantasia to pout and stomp her foot in frustration but caused Sven to laugh at her indignation. With the measured patience of a father teaching their child, he showed Fantasia the proper Norn way to season and to add ingredients to the stewpot.
The storm blew past several days later but left a changed landscape behind it. Drifts taller than Sven filled the higher reaches of the valley and barred passage. Fantasia simply nodded and asked what she could do to be helpful until Thawing arrived next year.
Sven and Fantasia came to an agreement on ways to pass the time when they were awake. Fantasia generally kept to the main building and worked on adjusting the fit of the small wardrobe she inherited from Sven's daughter. The woman found it almost insulting that the clothes had belonged to the Norn equivalent of a 'tween' when the clothes fit a full grown human woman. Adapting the clothes to her figure took up a couple of week's time but as Fantasia saw it, it was time well spent. Her tailoring skills improved with each piece she worked on.
Once Sven healed, he spent much of his time on his own crafts. Leatherworking was a tedious process that needed attention to detail to get the best results. Sven not only cured his hides, he took the time to insure the best quality he could from each piece he worked on. The constant cold allowed him to leave raw hides uncured until he could get to them in his own time.
Days turned to weeks and Fantasia found herself wandering out to the workshop more often. She would never like the cold but she was adjusting to dealing with it. She dressed to cope and would spend daylight hours talking to Sven. He showed her some basic curing techniques while she shared a few of her stitching secrets he could incorporate into some of his work. He gave Fantasia some of his leather scraps to make small items with so she repaired her old pack. In turn, she showed him the secrets of the mystic insignias armor crafters used to imbue mystic power to pieces to create magical armors. Sven quickly understood the concepts and crafted the simplest rune insignia in leather with just a week of teaching.
At some point she tried to fix her broken pistol. The pistol stubbornly refused to work no matter what she tried. The secret of crafting a magical weapon was unknown to her. Without such a focus to work with, her magic was just as useful as untreated hide was to Sven.
The pair were still polite to one another but it took on a different tone as the months dragged on. They spent time just talking on mundane things in their past and growing to become friends. Her thoughts turned to Sven more often but she knew anything more than friendship with him was a losing proposition. Size difference aside, Norn and human could not interbreed so relationships moving to more than friendship were rarely pursued. Many Norn looked at Norn / Human relations as unnatural and to be avoided. Sven's relative small size for a Norn was at the far upper end of human so it was easily possible. The potential for an awkward outcome on a proposition was simply too high. Instead, Fantasia never brought up her desires to Sven.
The winter solstice approached and Sven's sleep became troubled. She could hear him thrashing in his bed at night and shouting out at something but he kept quiet on things during the day. He took to taking long walks during the daytime hours as he seemed to be searching for something. Sven always returned with game of some kind but never spoke of what he had found. Fantasia tried to follow him once but she fell behind and was forced to return to the Steading after losing sight of him.
The night of the solstice arrived along with a full moon. Sven had tried to sleep sooner but he awoke shouting once more. Fantasia came out of her room to see Sven searching the Steading for something while muttering, "I know what it means now." He found a smaller stewpot and tipped about a third of the main pot into it. Then he set the pot near the doorway. The Norn walked out into the darkness to his workshop and lit a lantern before pulling out untreated hides and cured meat. Fantasia watched as Sven piled the hides and meat near the stewpot before she turned to get dressed into her warmest clothing.
Sven looked at the gathered pile as he tried to decide which to carry away from the Steading first when Fantasia made the decision for him by hefting the stewpot.
"So, where we going?" was all she said as Sven almost sighed in relief. He pulled up the pile of furs and meat then walked out into the night with the full moon lighting the land. He got a faraway look to his features before setting off toward one of the cliffs on the far side of the valley. Fantasia followed in his wake glad the Norn broke a trail as he went.
"My dream vision tells me of an ancient place of power nearby. It has long since faded to almost nothing but something has happened there tonight. The Solstice increased it greatly for a moment before it drained again completely. Something is there now that was not before," Sven said in a quivering voice.
It was past midnight by the time the pair reached the cliff Sven had set out for. A number of low growls greeted their arrival but the animals making the noise remained hidden from view. Sven paid them no heed and made for a small crack in the rock. He wiggled into it before pulling the furs in behind him. Fantasia followed glad the pot was able to fit without tipping. The metal was heavy and the stew was long ago cold but she assumed Sven had a reason for wanting to bring it.
The crack widened into a proper cave almost immediately and after a few turns Sven came to a stop. Fantasia peeked under his arm to see something glowing up ahead. On the floor of the cave lay something she could not identify. It was big first of all; large as the biggest dolyak she had ever seen. It looked somewhat like a ghost animal but one she could not identify as pieces of it were missing. One forelimb ended halfway down in a ragged stump. The face was hideously clawed and deformed with half of it destroyed. A chunk of its side was literally missing and a hole big enough for her to crawl through was there instead. If the shape had not been a spirit she would have called it a corpse.
Sven could only stare as well. He had seen the statues of all the Spirits the Norn revered. This Spirit was one he did not ever expect to see. It was one no Norn ever expected to see again.
"Wolverine," he whispered as it sunk in what this Spirit before him was.
When Jormag rose from its sleep under the Shiverpeaks several generations before, The Spirits of the Wild had sent the Norn south from the Far Shiverpeaks to the range the dwarves had formerly lived in. Four remained behind to cover the retreat. Owl had been confirmed as having died in the process. Ox (sometimes called Dolyak), Eagle and Wolverine had also joined in the battle but none could be confirmed as killed. Rumors of a ghostly Dolyak on centaur lands west of the mountains led some to think that Ox might have survived in some reduced form.
But now, Sven could only stare in awe at the glowing form in front of him. He dropped the pile of furs to the floor of the cave and took the pot from Fantasia. She grunted in relief at no longer holding the heavy load. The Norn slowly stepped close to the ravaged head of the Spirit and set it down the pot before it. The misshapen Spirit lowered its head to the pot as if to eat but a mournful whimper only followed.
"I don't understand," Sven said in a low voice to Fantasia. "I got a sense of overwhelming hunger in my head. Wolverine is hungry and needs food to survive but it can't eat."
"The Spirits are like magical energy, aren't they? Magical or spiritual energy like the ghosts in Ascalon?" Fantasia asked?
Sven thought for a few moments before replying. "Yes, I believe so. They are part of Nature and the magical energy of Nature is a part of them."
Fantasia thought before taking a step closer. Growls behind her sent a warning and she saw several wolverines enter the cave and get between her and Wolverine. The Spirit rumbled a keening moan at the animals which then moved off to the side of the cave. Fantasia looked to Sven who nodded at her before she slowly edged closer to kneel in front of the Spirit.
First she tried to push her magic out into the open where the spirit could absorb it but it dispersed before Wolverine could accept it. A second attempt came up as empty as the first. Like with her normal magic, the magic needed something to pass through before it could be used properly.
'Wolverine is hungry,' she thought. 'It needs energy but it tried to eat the stew. It cannot eat because there is not enough magical energy in the food for it to touch the food.'
Her eyes came back to the stewpot and she had an idea. She pushed both hands into the cold stew and focused on her magic. She pushed it out as if the stew was a magical focus and soon a pink glow that signified her Mesmer style magic surrounded her hands, slowly imbuing the stew with her magical power. She did not know how much time passed but she pushed out all of the magic she possessed into the food. When she was finished, she fell back and opened her eyes to see the stew in the pot glowing with the bright pink of her magic.
Sven picked her up as Wolverine lowered its head to the pot once more. It gave the appearance of eating as the magically charged stew vanished as it was 'eaten'. The large wound in Wolverine's side had a faint pink glow appear briefly in a small area of it before the normal blue of the Spirit returned to that spot. The area had only been less than the size of Fantasia's fist but the hole was that much smaller now. The animal wolverines in attendance all moved close to the Spirit and lay beside it to keep it company and guarded.
"It will take much for Wolverine to recover. Judging by what the magic healed, it would be more than a season even if that could happen each day. The small ones keep it alive but Wolverine will not draw enough to heal from them. A charged place of power would speed things considerable but the only one nearby is held by the Svanir and they are corrupting it to Jormag's will," Sven noted.
Fantasia smiled weakly. "Then we do what we can for as long as we can. Using my magic like that will make it grow larger and stronger. But I need to rest first," she sighed as she closed her eyes once more.
Sven nodded and laid her back on a fur before pulling out the cured meat to feed to the normal creatures in the cave. When he was finished he lifted Fantasia and wrapped her in a hide before heading back toward his Steading with the empty pot.
x-x-x-x-x
Weeks passed as the pair tried to heal Wolverine with food and magic. Game grew scarce as Sven hunted what he could but Fantasia grew stronger in magic each day. But while she could channel raw magic into the stews Sven cooked, she still could not cast anything without a new weapon.
Fate provided in that department as an avalanche dropped the remains of a group of ancient travelers into the vale. The remains of some lost Ascalonian refugees from the Searing had been preserved in the snows of the Shiverpeaks. A magical sword responded to her personal magic and she know some spells from her training that would work with that weapon. Half armed was better than nothing at all. Fantasia had always preferred to use a scepter and pistol in combat but had been required to learn the basics of most weapons. She spent time practicing with the sword when she had nothing else demanding her time
As for Wolverine itself, Sven talked to the spirit when he was not taking care of the Steading or hunting. He convinced the spirit to re-grow its missing leg first to ease movement later on. The Norn and the spirit seemed to be able to communicate on some level that Fantasia could not understand. But all were content with the situation as Thawing approached. Wolverine had four good limbs to move with now in spite of the gaping hole remaining in its side. Its face had been repaired enough to have both eyes intact and see most of the worst wounds on its head healed. These of course were small things in the light of the side wound but that would take more power than could be given by the woman or the Norn. The gratitude of the spirit filled the cave and made it warm and welcoming even on the harshest of nights.
Equinox was weeks in the past as Thawing grew nearer. Thawing, or Summer to everyone else, lasted three months at best in the Shiverpeaks. Fantasia was in the Steading when Sven came hurrying home in a panic looking for his war bow and axe.
"The Svanirs returned early this season. They noticed the lack of game in the valley and investigated. They found Wolverine's cave and took him to their Steading. They will sacrifice him to Jormag!" the Norn said as he worked gathering whatever arrows he could find.
Fantasia simply nodded and went to her room for her sword and returned to find Sven strapping on some armor she had never seen before.
"You stay here and go out the far pass after I fight the Svanir. It should be open enough for you to escape," Sven said as he continued dressing.
"I am going with you, Sven," Fantasia said with certainty.
"Fantasia … Molly, I am going to my death here. I cannot win against the Svanir but I must try. For Wolverine's sake. For Inga's sake. For little Brigit's sake. For my own as well, I must do this thing. I will not have your blood on my hands as well. You have made this past winter less… lonely for me," Sven finished.
Fantasia walked up to the small Norn before her and looked him right in the chest. She reached up and began poking him with each word she said.
"I am going with you, Sven Olafson, Fourth Son of Olaf, commonly known as Sven the Runt. I will follow if you leave without me and kick your corpse if you die on me!" she told him.
Sven sighed knowing how difficult a stubborn any woman could be, both Norn and human.
"You have no armor to protect you," he said trying to persuade her with logic.
"Then I will avoid being hit," she growled at this stubborn Norn.
"Fine, if you are insisting on following. Come with me first," Sven said walking toward the workshop.
The Norn unlocked a small room he had never allowed Fantasia to see before. He pulled out a small stand for armor. On it was a set of the finest leather armor Fantasia had ever seen. It was Norn styling but in human size. She gently reached out to touch it and found the leather was soft as cloth. The styling was more coverage than most full grown Norn women would wear but would be more than adequate for her.
"It was meant to be for Brigit before … she died. For her first hunt. It is a Norn coming of age to have your first solo hunt. She never had the chance to wear it. You are nearly her size," Sven said softly. "I thought it still deserved to be used."
Fantasia gasped at his revelation as she looked at his face. Tears ran freely down his cheeks for the first time. He had never mourned his loss. He lived with it daily but had not allowed himself the chance to move on and heal. Now, he was finally accepting things.
"After you taught me how to craft mystic armors insignias I modified it to your measurements in the, ah, bust and hips. I was going to gift it to you at our parting but now it will have another reason for use. It will protect as well as any metal armors crafted in the cities by blacksmiths."
"I would be honored to wear it, Sven," Fantasia said in a reverent voice. "Give me ten minutes and I'll be ready to leave," she said. Sven nodded and returned to the main building to gather the rest of his arrows.
Eleven minutes later, the pair was moving toward the Svanir Steading. Fifteen minutes past that, the first Svanir scout was gasping out his life from an arrow in his throat.
Sven plied his arrows on the scouts and outlying icebrood wolves as fast as he could reload. Fantasia was placing the arrows vertically in the snow to let him reach his maximum rate of fire. The small Norn only had to reach for them. Once the Svanir were stirred up, his shots became tougher but his years as a hunter made them fly true. Over a dozen corrupted wolves and scouts lay dead before the pair was spotted and the Svanir closed in.
Sven tossed his bow to the side as the range fell too small to avoid melee and pulled his axe. With a battle cry, the small Norn and his smaller companion met the attack.
"For Wolverine! For Inga! For Brigit!" cried Sven.
"For Clan Stargazer and revenge!" cried Fantasia afterwards.
Sword and axe cut into the bare pale flesh of the Svanirs while the mystic insignia in the armors the pair were wearing turned the blows of the Dragon worshippers. Solid blows connected but damage was reduced to bruising blows instead of deadly ones. The low echelon Svanirs fell before the pair as the more experienced ones hung back to see the battle take shape.
The snow around Sven and Fantasia grew red with the blood of Svanirs and small amounts of their own. Many Svanir had fallen and some had vanished via runestone to be resurrected at mystic waypoints but the pair fought on. At last the attack broke as the inexperienced younger Svanir lost their nerve. The veterans behind them had seen enough. They had the measure of the pair now.
At least they thought they did.
Freed of melee fighting, Fantasia unleashed her strongest magicks at the veterans. They saw multiple images of their opponents move and dodge and inflict damage from impossible blows. The human woman fought like a Norn as much as she dressed like one. The veterans fell back in disarray under both the magical and physical assault.
Sven took advantage of their disarray to kill several with well placed arrows. These stayed dead in the snow.
The battle reached a lull as new shouts rose from the far side of the Steading. The champion Fantasia had encountered last year stood for battle while the sounds on the far side increased and the sounds of another battle could be heard.
"So the Runt and the little girl both still live. Impressive." The champion looked closer at Fantasia. "No, it is a human not a Norn child. Very impressive indeed human. Even so, you will fall before the might of Dragon. Beg for mercy and you will die a quick death. I have other issues to attend to as you can hear. The foolish clan from last year has returned in strength to avenge their dead. But they will fall as all others before Dragon."
With that, the champion transformed into a form Fantasia had never seen. A beast made of snow and ice. It rushed at the pair, knocking them in different directions. It swiped almost casually at Fantasia knocking her back to the ground a dozen yards away, thinking her disemboweled. However her armor prevented the blow from being fatal. Without confirming the death, the champion turned to Sven.
Sven fought with every trick he knew with his axe but the champion seemed to shrug off the blows.
"So which puny spirit do you fight for, little Runt. Bear? Snow Leopard? Maybe Raven blessed you with her form. Show me your power little one so that I can show you the true power Dragon gives by defeating it," the champion taunted.
"I have been blessed by none of those. My other form is unknown to me," Sven panted as he fended off the blows coming at him.
"Ha, a runt in all ways. Unable even to be blessed by a spirit. Unable to fight for one in battle. I almost should let you live with your shame," the champion taunted before he shouted in pain and fell to the ground.
A bloody and battered Fantasia pulled her sword out of the champion's hamstring and spat blood at his face. "Sven Olafson DOES fight for a Spirit. One your pitiful Dragon could not kill. He fights for Wolverine! As do I!"
Sven gaped at the human woman as she staggered and fell from her wounds and exhaustion. Even so she still tried to rise and fight once more. After she found that impossible, she decided to use her magic through her sword to partially heal herself.
For Sven, the events of his life flashed before him. His inability to become a spirit form in spite of showing he was capable of doing so. His constant visions over the years. It all became clear as he now understood everything up to now in his life. His lessons on becoming his spirit animal were still with him but he focused differently this time. He searched inside and found what he sought looking back at him.
"My spirit is Wolverine!" he shouted in exultation as he touched the power inside of himself for the first time and was welcomed by it. He became one with the power of his spirit animal and transformed.
Sven did not grow in size as much as the other Norn would. He grew broader and stronger. His hands became paws which grew the razor sharp claws of a wolverine. His skin thickened and sprouted fur in the distinctive pattern of a wolverine and his face grew a snout as his cry turned into a snarl.
The Svanir champion regained his feet and took Sven's attack head on. But the hobbled champion was not prepared for the onslaught of a Wolverine empowered Norn. The near feral Sven had more strength and speed than before and the champion could not turn fast enough on his damaged leg to meet further attacks head on. One blow to the champion's flank was followed by another and another. The champion's other leg was lamed then one of his arms was needed to clamp down on a gash over his ribs to slow massive bleeding. The last whole limb was soon damaged beyond use and the champion knelt on the ground defenseless. Sven gave into the power his spirit gave him as he tore great chunks of flesh from Jormag's minion. The razor sharp claws parted icy flesh like warm butter until Sven controlled his blood lust and ripped out the throat of his foe before completely severing the head from the body.
The assembled Svanir watching the battle fled from the scene as their champion was defeated and killed. Unfortunately for them they fled into the sights of the Defenders of the Southern Pass. Dozens died as the dragon's minions blindly fled one after the other.
Rondar Stargazer, he had named himself after his eight times great grandfather, looked on at the scene before him. This was one nest of Svanirs that would not be regrouping in the future. He was still on alert waiting for the champion the cousin had told him about. All Stargazers called each other 'cousin' even if they were separated by blood at nine generation. They were Clan. They were Family. It was that simple.
The Norn guides had their own issues with this particular band of Son of Svanir. They began to whisper nervously as two more beings emerged from the far side of the Steading. Both were battered and bloody. He was unsure if the blood was theirs or their enemies but by the way they moved he would say mostly their enemies. One was obviously a female of human height but dressed in full Norn armor. The other was a morphed Norn of some kind but unlike one he had ever seen before. Rondar's gesture brought the Defenders to alert when a shout of "Cousin!" reached his ears from the ranks behind him. The female had pulled off her helm to show the smiling face of Fantasia. He was shocked to see her both alive and well. He put away his weapon in time to get a running hug from his little sister.
Tears filled his eyes as he held her close. In spite of the layers of armor that were between them he pulled her close enough to hurt.
"I thought you were dead, Molly," he whispered at her.
"I nearly was a few times, Herbert," Fantasia replied just as quietly before they let go of each other.
The strange Norn had come up behind them carrying the head of the Svanir champion in his paw. The being proceeded to stare down at Rondar with full force as if warning the Guardian away from the Mesmer.
"Sven, knock it off," Fantasia chided the Norn/ "Allow me to introduce my big brother. Rondar Stargazer; Leader of Clan Stargazer, a division of the Defenders of the Southern Pass. Rondar, it is an honor to present to you and all here Sven Olafson, Fourth Son of Olaf of the Two Pines holding, my friend and the one responsible for me being alive."
One of the guide scoffed, "Little Sven? The Runt? That cannot be him!"
Moments later, Sven allowed himself to revert to normal to prove his identity to the other Norn. His appearance and battle wounds were clearly visible to all who could see him.
But in spite of that Fantasia was already up on the Norn that had scoffed. He had to be over ten feet tall but that meant nothing to her. She looked him right in the stomach and jabbed him hard with her finger poking against hard flesh.
"I do not care how big you are, Norn. If you ever call him that again I will find you and roast your gonads over an open fire. Then I will make you eat them before killing you slowly. He deserves better than that as he has proven his courage in battle. He has found his spirit and it has blessed Sven with its form. He is Sven of the Wolverine, not the Runt. Do you get me, Norn?" Fantasia finished with a snarl that impressed the other Norn there.
The Norn she was up against poking roared a huge belly laugh. "So, baby brother, where did you find this little spitfire?" he asked Sven.
Fantasia looked back at a wryly smiling Sven. "I fished her out of a snowbank back by my Steading, Bjorn," he said with no elaboration.
"Too bad she isn't Norn. She would make a fine wife for someone," Bjorn chuckled.
"Aye," was Sven's only reply as he turned back to the corrupted Svanir Steading behind him. He saw a number of wolverines had followed in his wake. They were leading the battered spirit he had tended for months. Gasps sounded from the Norn who all dropped to one knee in reverence. Rondar gestured to the Defenders assembled around him who did likewise. The few mercenaries with them quickly fell into line to not get in bad with anyone else.
Only Sven and Fantasia remained vertical as Wolverine slowly walked up to them. The spirit nuzzled the short Norn before turning to the woman and did the same.
Bjorn looked in awe at his brother before whispering, "Havroun"
Sven looked back at his brother and shook his head no but it did no good. Two more spirits joined Wolverine before Sven; a woman and a young girl.
"Inga, Brigit," Sven said with tears in his eyes. "I failed you."
"No beloved, you freed us. Jormag's power held us here and we could not know peace. Wolverine will take us to the Mists to wait for you and your companion. In time, you will join us there and we can be a family once more."
The ghosts turned to Fantasia.
"Be good to him, my dear. I hope the spirits will bless the both of you. Be happy together," Inga said as Brigit walked around Fantasia looking at the armor.
"My first hunt armor? Father never let me see it. It's beautiful," she said softly.
"Yes," Fantasia replied. "Your father did a good job on it. It wore well."
The ghostly girl smiled and said, "It's yours now. Wear it well in the future."
"I will," the mesmer replied.
Inga and Brigit stepped up to Sven and had enough solidity to hug him.
"Take care beloved," Inga said
"I love you, Daddy," said Brigit before the ghosts vanished.
Wolverine stared at the spot where the ghosts had stood before looking back to Sven. Sven merely said, "I understand." The spirit turned and made its way south away from the assembled force back into the wild and the mountains to finish healing.
In time, Sven was recognized as both a shaman and havroun of Wolverine by the havrouns of the other Spirits of the Wild. The cave where Wolverine had sent time was made into a shrine by those who revered it. In time Sven's name was legend as havroun to the first spirit to return from the fight against Jormag
Fantasia remained at Sven's side. Love was not something spoken of often but in time the spirits did bless the pair with children, first a son for Sven to carry on his legacy. It was truly a blessing as before or since no known Norn / human pairs ever had offspring. The names Fantasia called the Norn during child birth were also written into the legends. Few were able to match her imagination or verbosity until Fantasia outdid herself when her daughter was born.
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Authors Notes: I know this story does not conform to stated lore in Guild Wars 2 regarding the spirits and interbreeding. I simply wanted to give the couple a happy ending. I also tried to incorporate things from my experiences in both the still running original game and the current sequel. I tried to give reasonable explanations for how things worked regarding magic armor and weapons. I am likely wrong but I hope everyone enjoyed the story.
My thoughts for writing about the wounds inflicted by Jormag on Wolverine are simple. They were magical in nature being parts of him destroyed or consumed by Jormag in battle. While they could be healed, the energy mass needed to be regenerated rather than simply having the rest of Wolverine's energy simply flowing back into the missing parts to fill them in. Wolverine would need an external source for the energy to re-grow the voids.