Ascalon Catacombs! Rhyoll is Tharash's character! Phiadi is mine, loosely based off my Sith Warrior from SWTOR.

10: Ghosts and Guns

A week later, armed with the title of Explorer – as was Wegaff, as he'd said – Caoilfhionn found himself in Ascalon for the first time, accompanied by Wegaff, invited by Annhilda. They met her at a ruined stone door leading down into the earth, and another red-headed Norn with a wolf-hound nearly as big as Caoilfhionn beside her. "Hello, my friends!" Annhilda said. "This is my friend and mentor, Eir Stegalkin. Eir, these are two of my companions at the Priory, Wegaff and Caoilfhionn."

"Pleased to meet you," Eir said. "This is Garm. Did Annhilda explain why we are here?"

"Slightly," Caoilfhionn said, thrilled to meet another member of Destiny's Edge. "There is a sword of legend buried here, is there not?"

"Aye, that's the gist of it. Long ago-"

"There was a human king, and he used it to destroy his own kingdom out of spite," said a vaguely familiar voice, and the Asura named Phiadi appeared with a toss of her white-pink hair, strutting like royalty, a swarm of undead minions already clustering around her. "I can relate. Thanks for the invite, Wegaff. Hope you don't mind I brought Damara as well. I asked Mabbran, but he wasn't interested."

Damara waved, her white teeth shining in her brown-skinned face framed by her loose black braids. "Hello! Melandru bless you, it's nice to see you again! I brought my wolf today, this is Torkil!" She had a beautiful snowy-white wolf with her, and he and Garm sniffed each other curiously. "Phiadi said we might be fighting human ghosts, so of course I had to come. I'm hoping this will help the peace treaty along a little. And it's nice to meet you, Eir Stegalkin."

Eir smiled. "I welcome the company. It's going to be very dangerous, but when I called on Annhilda for aid, I did not imagine she would bring half a guild of her own. Now, let's go before Rytlock gets here."

Caoilfhionn had many questions, but Eir was not waiting for anyone, and he had to hastily pull answers out of Annhilda as they set off. But even that didn't last long, as no sooner had the inner doors shut behind them when they were assaulted by ghosts of humans, angry, violent ghosts, who took sword strikes and lightning bolts in their faces and did not fall. Even Phiadi's necromantic magic was not enough on its own to convince them to rest, and it took their combined efforts several minutes to slay each ghost they found.

They'd gotten partway into the catacombs where there was an angry, growling shout from behind them, and they turned to see two Charr bounding up – a dark brown, fuming, armoured tower of fur introduced as Rytlock Brimstone, and a shorter black-and-white Charr with a slight limp who didn't pay the others much attention, mostly involved in a small arsenal of contraptions Caoilfhionn had never seen the like of before. He briefly introduced himself as Rhyoll Cinderforge, and then went back to tinkering with those contraptions.

After Rytlock and Eir shouted at each other for a few minutes, Annhilda stepped in. "Look, we're all here, and between the eight of us, we can handle whatever ghosts come our way."

"I agree," said Rhyoll, waving a screwdriver. "Tribune, I'm not getting any testing done just standing here."

Rytlock looked around at all of them with a sour, skeptical face. "None of you look anything like soldiers except the Norn. If you die, don't come crying to me."

"I don't expect I could cry if I were dead," Caoilfhionn said curiously. "But that's no reason to turn back!"

Rytlock shot him a sharp glance; Caoilfhionn held his ground. "You're a real sprout, aren't you? Fine. Let's get going."

With the legendary sword recovered, Eir and Rytlock started fighting again – though this time they did not raise their voices. When Rytlock had stomped away, Caoilfhionn simply had to ask more questions. "Why does Rytlock hate Logan?" Caithe had said… something about it, but it had been a while ago, in Lion's Arch, and she had been vague. Perhaps Eir would be more straightforward.

Eir sighed. "Mistakes from a lifetime ago, best forgotten. Rytlock's right. I've gotten too sentimental. Too weak."

"It is not weakness to care," Annhilda said. "Our lives are made up of symbols and stories. Our strength comes from living them, not denying them."

Eir shrugged. "A long time ago, I led us into a disaster. He blames me. They all do. The thing is… they might be right." Caoilfhionn did not know what to say to that – he did not know Eir or Destiny's Edge or their last battle well enough to comfort her with conviction, and someone with Eir's intensity would not accept anything less than complete and utter certainty. "Come, we should leave. Ultimately, this mission was a failure."

"It's not a failure," Damara said gently. "Adelbern needed to be dealt with. With him laid to rest, perhaps we can move forward more easily."

Eir shook her head. "I was stupid to think a sword could slice through the wall between Logan and Rytlock."

"Should we follow him?" Annhilda asked.

"No. He still hates Logan – and now he hates me. I should have left bad enough alone."

"Nah, when the Tribune's in a Mood, no one can talk to him," Rhyoll volunteered. "He was talking pretty generously about Destiny's Edge around a month ago, but then he went to Lion's Arch to meet with his old guildmates and it's soured him ever since."

"Right," Eir said. "I remember."

"I thought whacking some ghosts might get him back to normal, but, eh, guess not." He shrugged and let out a booming laugh. "Makes me feel all stifled when he's around, honestly. I'd say it was a mission well-done, myself! You folks gave me all the tests I could ask for, and then some. So come on, loosen up those long faces."

"I actually had some questions for you," Caoilfhionn said.

"You've been asking questions this whole time, can't you stop for five minutes?" Phiadi complained. "You're worse than a progeny trying to get with their favourite professor."

"But there's so much I don't know!" Caoilfhionn said, laughing. "Rhyoll, you have so many machines-"

"You like 'em? Want a closer look?"

"Yes, please!"

"I'm a weapons engineer for Iron Legion, I know how to make 'em. Let me take you back to my workshop and we'll go over a bunch!"

Eir left them outside the Catacombs, making the journey back to Hoelbrak to get the legendary sword repaired – or not, Caoilfhionn still wasn't sure what her decision was. But the rest of them went with Rhyoll to his workshop at the Black Citadel. Caoilfhionn was not a huge fan of Charr architecture – it was so jagged, and haphazard, and threatening, and lifeless. Brutal, if he had to be succinct. He stayed close to the others through the Black Citadel, a little on edge from all the angry yelling sounds, the screeching of metal, the stench of smoke and oil. They were getting looks, for such a multicultural party was not often seen outside of Lion's Arch. He was certain that no matter how many times he visited, he would never be comfortable there.

Rhyoll's workshop was tucked away in a corner of the place, not too close to the looming Citadel itself, a sturdy metal shed with a small test field in front of it. As they came to it, he turned around and held up a claw. "Now. No one is allowed inside. Especially you, Sylvari. I'm still not sure how flammable your race is compared to the others, but I'm not risking it."

"U-understood," Caoilfhionn said, stopping short. With a warning like that, he had even less motivation to enter than he'd had before.

"Right. Let's start with something small. Got this pistol, see. Let me show you its features! This little beauty doesn't just fire bullets – it also shoots a powerful glue that'll stop anything short of a minotaur." Rhyoll shot at a blob of some pale substance at a nearby sheet of metal. It spattered wildly across the surface; Caoilfhionn flinched as droplets reflected back at them. Everybody backed up a little bit, in fact.

"Sticky stuff! It's real sticky!" To demonstrate, Rhyoll reached down and picked up a rock the size of his fist – or the size of Caoilfhionn's whole head – and tossed it at the pale splatter. It held, jiggling slightly. "Comes off with water, too. So if I accidentally snag any of you elementalists, you'll be fine."

"How… reassuring," Wegaff mumbled.

"And – this is the best part – it's got a napalm magazine." Tail lashing violently, he aimed the pistol and blasted the rock with a jet of white-hot flames. Caoilfhionn jumped, but now he was intrigued. That almost looked more powerful than some of his spells! Annhilda had found a high ledge to sit on and observe from; Damara leaned against the wall below her. Her wolf was hunched behind her legs, looking oddly calm; she still kept a comforting hand on its head. Phiadi was sitting on one of her larger minions.

Rhyoll guffawed in delight. "Ahahahaha! I love setting things on fire!"

"Can't you just call it a flamethrower?" Phiadi asked.

"No, because I have actual flamethrowers and they're completely different. Right, on to the next thing. You saw I was using a shotgun in the Catacombs, I'm sure. Let me show you its features!" Tail wagging harder than ever, he unholstered his weapon and spun it around. "Of course, I can just shoot things with it, but if I just recalibrate the chamber, then it fires a shot with extra force, enough to blow away most smaller hostiles and knocking bigger ones back a step or two."

He turned to demonstrate, firing a regular shot at a target, which splintered under the assault, and then fiddling with his gun for a moment before firing the second. The second explosion was louder, and Caoilfhionn jumped – the second target snapped off at the base, slamming to the ground with the force of the shot. Damara's wolf growled at the deafening sound. "And with that force, I can do other things, too!" He turned the gun down, aiming between his knees – Caoilfhionn started to object-

The gun went off, and Rhyoll went sailing through the air, chortling as only a Charr could. "Whahahahaha! How's that!"

"Marvelous," Caoilfhionn said breathlessly. "I had wondered how you did that, before. I don't suppose I could try?" Flying looked like a lot of fun!

"Hell no!" Rhyoll shouldered his gun again. "I'm about 450 pounds of muscle and bone. You're, what, 150 pounds soaking wet? It'd break you in half like a twig. Maybe someday I'll build a special one just for you, but I'd have to have a lot of free time on my hands…"

"I understand," Caoilfhionn said. "Thank you for showing us, anyway."

"Oh, I'm not done yet! Heheheh!"

Rhyoll went on to show them his many turrets, his rocket launcher, his actual flamethrower, a healing kit that… included some sort of bandage grenade launcher – he fired, the bandages flew, and fell anti-climactically to the ground. He looked around at their puzzled stares. "Look, it's a work in progress."

And the last thing he showed them was a strange sort of harness for his legs, that he said would help him move faster – faster, even, than a healthy Charr with no injury or disability.

"A tall claim," Annhilda said. "I have boasted that I can run as fast as a Charr, and to run faster still?"

"You're the one telling tall tales, sister. Tell you what – race you to the Horn of Rin and back."

"You're on," Annhilda said, jumping down from her seat.

Rhyoll grinned, showing off all his sharp teeth. "And I'll even throw in a control group. Gary!"

A burly, confused-looking Charr with pure golden fur came stumping over. "Rhyoll? What d'you need?"

"We're gonna race to the Horn of Rin and back. I want you to race with us. Gotta show all these newbies the power of Charr engineering and all that."

"But you're using your mecha legs! I'll lose!" Gary whined.

"That's the point!" Rhyoll bopped Gary in the back of the head. "Come on, I'll buy you a steak."

"Oh, I'll do it for a steak. Who's saying 'ready, steady, go'?"

"I will!" Caoilfhionn said.

Rhyoll won, though Annhilda strove valiantly. Gary came in last, though he didn't seem to mind. "By Raven, that is a wonderful device," Annhilda said, panting a little, when they made it back. "Why did you not use it in the Catacombs?"

"They're only a prototype so far. They're not very comfortable unless I'm running long distances without stopping, and stopping to fight every thirty seconds is, well, stopping. Something for another time. After I work on it some more. Hey, I won't mind working with you lot again. Depends where the Tribune needs me to go. But you want a flamethrower or turret support, I'm your Charr."

"We'd be honoured to have you with us, should we need your aid," Annhilda said. "I know I speak for all of us with the Priory."

"Six preserve us, I'm with the Vigil, but I'd concur with that!" Damara said, ruffling up her wolf's neck fur. "Torkil doesn't mind the loud noises, but I may have to see if any of my other pets have concerns."

"How many do you have?" Caoilfhionn asked in wonder.

Damara hid an embarrassed smirk; she might have blushed, but her skin-tone was too dark-brown for Caoilfhionn to tell based on colour variation like he could with Annhilda. "Twelve, at the moment. Come to Divinity's Reach sometime and I'll introduce you. I've a small farm from my parents where they live when they're not about with me."

"I'd like that."

"Most of your toys aren't really… subtle," Phiadi said, "but I'll grant that you have a head for solving problems. Crudely. With the most explosive solution possible."

"Explosions are fun!" Rhyoll said, grinning with all his sharp teeth, tail wagging.

"And educational!" Wegaff said.