This is my first fic. If any other people from England want to insult me for being a northerner, I couldn't give a toss.
Disclaimer: I do not own Guild Wars. Anet has that privilege. I do own myself, one of the protagonists in the fic.
It had been 50 years since it had happened. A dark shadow had fallen across all of Tyria. It had caused devastation and suffering to men, women and children. It was the rise of the Ancient Dragons. Six foul, dark creatures which were as old as Tyria herself. The first one, Primordus had risen in the bowels of the earth, awakening the other 5. It wasn't an invasion. All resistance had been crushed with one single fell swoop. It was a victory.
The Asura, who had been driven from their subterranean home two centuries ago by the Destroyers, had found something which could turn the tide against the dragons. A fifth Bloodstone had been foreseen! The Sylvari sages, however had sensed it was far beyond this world, even beyond The Mists. There of course had been large debates between the two races. But the situation had seemed fruitless in the end. Not even the gods could see beyond The Mists. And so that was how it had been.
Until now.
Mattio, Xzeo and Liasa trudged through the bitter snow. A small figure was slung around Mattio's armour plated back. It was an asuran child. She was dead. They had found her, curled up in a damp grotto. She was still alive then, but time was not on their side. She had died only 3 hours ago. Mattio had found himself weeping along with his companions. Xzeo had been hit hardest. The Asura had spent 10 minutes kneeling over her small, frigid body, tears rapidly falling from his wide eyes. Liasa had knelt beside his miniscule form, comforting him and whispering soothing words into his twitching ears. She was a beautiful young Sylvari, with a knack for comforting anyone in distress or sorrow. They had all agreed that they would take the body to Rata Sum for a proper burial. And that was what they were doing, walking on through the place the Norn used to call home.
Mattio curled his lips into a grimace, as he had just seen a group of corrupt ice elementals ahead. "Liasa" he said, gesturing to the elementals. She nodded, and ran forward, almost into their view. Chanting under her breath, her hands a bright green, she summoned three huge roots from underground; this was the magic of the Sylvari. The roots whipped at the ice elementals, shattering their glimmering forms into thousands of shards. "Not bad Liasa, not bad at all" Xzeo smiled. The Sylvari grinned at Mattio and he blushed and grinned back.
Suddenly, a large shadow passed over them, followed by an unearthly screeching sound that chilled the heroes' very souls. "Drakkar!" roared Mattio running for cover, leaping behind a large craggy boulder, Xzeo and Liasa sprinting with him.
Drakkar was one of the aforementioned Ancient dragons, and had driven the Norn back further south, almost to the borders of Kryta. It was as twisted and corrupt as its brethren, but it had already shown this, in the case of a bold Norn called Svannir. He had briefly made contact with Drakkar when it was still dormant, in the eponymous Drakkar Lake. It had backfired on Svannir, twisting him into a vile, twisted beast, which had become legend amongst future Norn. And now it dominated the Shiverpeaks. Nothing could stop it.
And it had found them.
Mattio had a split second to realise that the rock they were hiding behind was about to be blasted apart by Drakkars icy blasts. Quickly grabbing on Liasa's delicate hand and running to a steep plateau, if he had stayed a second longer, he would have met a chilling death. All of a sudden he heard an earth shattering rumble. A colossal boulder had been dislodged from the side of the plateau, and was rolling steadily towards them.
Mattio realised that they were trapped this time. The plateau was steep and narrow, with little room for running. The Warrior had realised that this was it. They were about to meet their fates. The three loyal friends embraced, and let Death come to them. It was quick, they felt a cold blast of air, Drakkars screech of triumph and then…
Nothing.
Manchester, 2008.
A tall, messy looking boy turned off the T.V miserably. There had been nothing interesting on the news. Just the usual bull on politicians, the war on terror, and boring football. Even Huw Edwards, the newsreader, looked thoroughly bored by all of it. "Bloody politicians…." The boy muttered to himself. He slowly walked up the stairs to the computer. Nothing on the news website either, except about atmospheric pressure or something. He closed the page, only to receive a dull "You have email". He opened it to find it was some tosspot from YouTube ranting on about how northerners were a blemish on England or something along those lines. Disgusted, he deleted it.
Matt Sinclair was an autistic thirteen year old boy attending Priestnall Secondary School. He was slightly overweight, but he hid it well, wearing long jackets, which he was constantly mocked for. He had long, messy hair that was a filthy blonde, and a lot of people mocked him for that as well. He couldn't give a rat's arse. He had his hair how he liked. He was fairly pale, and rarely smiled. He was far from sociable. No one really even knew he existed. He didn't care. He was fairly cold hearted to a lot of people as well. That was Matt in a nutshell.
He opened up limewire, deciding that he needed something to chill out to. He clicked on Godspeed, by Anberlin, and began to relax to it. He let his mind wander, imagining things and reshaping them in his mind. Was this all there was to life? He pondered it. Sure, he played the drums, but were drummers ever going to get much attention? Drumming was his only hobby. But that was never going to get off the ground. He sighed, and turned off his computer. And went to bed. At least tomorrow was going to be a Saturday.
"Wh-where are we?" murmured Mattio. He looked around. It was a tranquil place. There was an eerie beauty about it. "We did die after all, it seems." said Xzeo calmly "Where are we, though?" asked Mattio. "The Mists." Said Liasa bluntly. "I never thought death would be so peaceful. It feels like when I was born." "We have failed though. Tyria has three less guardians." Replied Xzeo.
"Mortals." The voice was calm, but loud. It came from everywhere and nowhere. "I am Grenth, God of Death and Ice." Xzeo, Mattio and Liasa kneeled. "Dwayna has managed to convince me for once." Mattio looked surprised at this; Dwayna, the goddess of life and air and Grenth had never agreed on anything. "We shall let you live. However, only to do so for Tyria; we had not expected Primordus to return." He continued. "You shall find the last bloodstone, and I shall take you to the world where it can be found. It is wholly different to your realm, and you shall have to learn to adapt to it. As soon as you have found the Bloodstone, however, you will have to return immediately. A fair deal, yes?" Xzeo piped up: "What if we cannot find the Bloodstone?" "Then Tyria shall be lost." Grenth said bluntly "You cannot simply abandon Tyria!" cried Liasa "You are the founders of that realm! You cannot let its populace suffer and die!" "Death is just another phase of life, child. There are millions of realms. We do not watch over all of them. We will simply wait until another world needs us." Liasa was about to speak again but then they felt an odd feeling. Mattio looked at Liasa worriedly, she seemed to be evaporating, and so did Xzeo and Mattio looked at his own gauntlets, seeing them disappear before his eyes.
7.02 AM, Manchester.
Matt woke up. What was that noise he just heard? Probably next-door's cat having a scrap with the other one just up the road. Even still, he looked out of the window and his eyes widened at what he saw.
Three figures were lying were lying in his back garden.
"Jesus Christ…" He quickly put on a shirt and some trousers and rushed out into his garden.
They were the most peculiar looking people he had ever seen.
The first figure he saw was a burly man, clad in armour plating, his face etched with scars and cuts. He looked like something out of a game. Matt noticed a large axe next to him, the blade rusted and faded, as well as large shield which oddly enough had the emblem of a large fist on it.
The second person, well Matt wasn't even sure if it was human. It was about three feet tall, with huge ears, like those of a bat. He was clutching a short stick that had a glowing orb at the end, and he was dressed in flowing robes, which looked a bit too big for him.
The third figure looked distinctly more human than the last one, and was female as well, judging by her, well…ample chest. She was lithe and graceful, but had leaf like protrusions on her body, and her skin was the green of a lush forest leaf, with a flower in her hair.
Suddenly, the man opened his eyes. He looked around slowly, taking in his surroundings; the sun was rising, and he was surrounded by grass. He could see his companions lying around him, but then he heard an accusing "Who are you?" he looked up to see the first creature of the new world that Grenth had sent them to. Surprisingly, he looked a lot like him, albeit younger and a bit overweight. "Erm…I…We are from Tyria!" he cried, waking up his friends. "Huh?" the girl murmured, taking in her surroundings. She saw a person who looked like a human stare at her with piercing khaki eyes with what looked like confusion and…lust? She wasn't sure. "I am Liasa…she said faintly "of Tyria" "And who's this?" said the boy bluntly, pointing to Xzeo. "That is Xzeo the wise, of Tyria", she said, a bit more strength in her voice now. Suddenly, a door creaked from somewhere. "Shit! The neighbours!" hissed the boy. "Come on!" Still confused, Mattio took the still unconscious Xzeo under one arm and his axe and shield under the other, and, with Liasa in pursuit, followed the boy inside.