Disclaimer: I own nothing. Tyria is a world belonging to Arenanet and NCSOFT in the form of the Guild Wars franchise.

I also only in part own the Foundation-Hub (. org) unofficial universe, in which this story coincides.

Chapter 6: Smack Down

Three pillars of earth shot up around Orla, followed by an explosion of dust and gravel. After a few seconds, the billowing cloud cleared and jotun and girl alike looked at the three pillars that had halted the club with a mixture of confusion and surprise.

"Get up you twit!" Limmock shouted.

She shimmied out from under her hammer's sapling-sized handle and escaped from beneath the halted club. The earth shook and a line of ground churned and boiled like a pot of stew between Orla and the giants. She got up and looked at the aged man who still held two hands before him controlling the ground.

He glared at her and ordered, "Don't just stand there and look pretty, pick up that lump of metal and help me!"

Orla knew not to argue with orders, so she grabbed the hammer shaft and dragged it back using her entire body's strength. There was no way she could lift it. She was strong, steeled by her years of hard work under the charr, but not that strong.

"Come on lass, where's all that spice?" Limmock urged while telekinetically sending up pillar after pillar of earth to hold the giants back.

Ignoring him, she gritted her teeth and relaxed her mind, trying to find where she got that strength again. But then the burning in her neck intensified as if she had a hundred needles stabbing into her and then they tugged sideways through her skin along the burn scars. She let out a scream and bent over, using the shaft for support.

Limmock's face was turning pale as he shot off stone projectiles that the giants parried and slapped aside with ease. Sweat beaded on his brow. "It may hurt, but if you ever want to see another day stop being a wimp and get back into your rage!"

Orla decided something; she really hated that old man. It did not matter if he was Srykar's friend. The pain intensified further as she embraced the hex's will, then subsided into a dull ache as magic flames leapt from her neck and covered her body once again as she promised she was going to beat that cotton ball senseless.

She hefted the norn hammer as if it weighed nothing. "Once I'm done, you're next!" she roared back at him then dashed towards the giants.

Limmock cleared a path for her through the churning earth. Then he whispered another spell that caused the ground beneath the Jotun to shift back suddenly, making them fall flat on their backs, one of them even landing on top of his comrade that Orla had previously crippled. With one more spell he raised the ground beneath Orla, launching her into the air.

Orla gasped in surprise at finding herself thrown skyward but she realised Limmock's plan quickly. Twisting around, she aimed the hammer at the head of the Jotun lying atop the other. Then she fell and at the last moment she swung her weapon with all her might. She struck the two Jotun like a meteor, skull cracking and chest crumpling, she mortally wounded the one on top and severely injured the one beneath.

Then she turned her eyes onto the third. Two claws of earth grasped the giant, keeping it on the ground. She saw a ramp of stone raise beside it and she knew what Limmock intended. She ran up the rise, which with a sudden push upwards, hurled her into the air again. Letting out a vicious shriek she brought the hammer down with devastating effect, caving in the giant's chest where his dark lifeblood pooled.

Orla looked in disgust at what she had accomplished, but before any sort of shock or remorse could set in the world began to spin around her, colours fluctuating in her vision, and then her vision fell dark.

—-

The sun shone brightly on the blossoming Ascalonian plane. Lilies, irises, lupines, and pimpernel painted the landscape in rich hues of red, yellow, white and blue. Beautiful.

A laugh… someone was laughing, the delicate jingle of a girl's voice danced through the blades of grass. Her laugh was joined by another, which yapped and yowled in mirth. Happy.

Orla ran gathering flowers then plopped down, her hands weaving them together into crowns, engulfed in the simple pleasures of a five year old. Her companion, a grey furred charr kit, too young for even the fahrar hopped around her, trying desperately to capture a butterfly in his tiny claws. Impossible.

They had not met back then… it was much later, so the little girl in a twinkling of eye grew into a youth of fourteen years and the charr ceased his kitten-like leaping and instead sat beside her. He thrust a muscular arm towards the clouds as he roared aloud something that seemed garbled and confusing, but it made Orla laugh. Sunny.

The wind blew her rusty locks into her face, but before she could brush them out of the way, Seven did it for her with a deftness that defied his clawed hands. With a playful grin he tugged her to his leather clad chest to shelter her from the wind. She smiled. Safe.

She snuggled her head closer to the V of his jacket where a tufts of white fur spilled out like a gentleman's ruffle. She breathed. Wrong.

The scent was wrong. Suddenly the world around her vanished and for the briefest of seconds she found herself staring into the cruellest pair of blue eyes. Cold.

—-

Orla's startled awake and was confronted by a grey wolf pelt. She sat up and regretted her haste as her sore muscles declared their sorrow.

As she sat up she looked at her surroundings. Everything from the rustic furniture to the plain wooden walls made her feel at home, but the many trophies on the walls and runes drawn above the fireplace told her this was not a charr abode.

Beside her bed, which was not much more than a gargantuan pile of pelts, was a pair of antler horns that doubled as a wardrobe. On it she recognised her clothing she had packed. Rising from bed she slipped on the green wool skirt and a reddish brown coat. In the corner of the room she spotted her satchel which she hefted over her shoulder, gritting her teeth at the mixture of pain and relief that washed over her when every joint in her body seemed to pop at once.

She stopped in awkward silence, unsure of what to do next as she listened for signs of life. She could make out the noise of crowds and conversation as mumbles through the thick walls of the chamber, accompanied by the constant ring of hammered metal. The sound reminded her of the Flame Citadel where she had grown up, just with less snarling, roaring, and growling.

"Perhaps they are waiting for me?" She asked aloud, just to fill in the silence and abate the awkwardness of waking up in a strange bed with no one around for explanation. She walked to the doorway across which hung a large bear pelt. Pulling the thick hide aside she stepped out into a broad, snow covered avenue of Hoelbrak.

The cold air took her breath away at first but then she found herself almost forgetting to breathe at the sight of the city before her. Bizarre, arching rooftops of massive buildings dwarfed the more sensible looking houses and businesses that were sprinkled throughout the valley. After a moment, Orla corrected herself, realising that even these normal houses were giant in size since they were built to norn scale.

Concerning the norn themselves, Orla was particularly impressed. They walked by her as towering giants, head, shoulders, and chest above her. She was tall for a human woman, being able to look almost eye to eye with the average charr hunched over, but here she was not any bigger than a pre-adolescent norn.

Once she began to recover from the initial awe she searched the street for Limmock's party. At first she worried that they had left without her, abandoning her for the sake of convenience. Or perhaps she had been out of it for so long that they had to leave her? But neither seemed right, Srykar trusted Limmock, a human of all races, and if she had been out for days she should feel famished rather than mildly hungry.

So she decided not to lose hope yet. Once she calmed herself, she was attracted to the ringing metal and peaked in the door of a smithy. There she spotted two norn, and interestingly a charr, hammering away at three steel rods. The older of the two norn occasionally barked instructions to the charr, informing him of proper technique. The latter grumbled, but followed the advice with determined focus. A blast of hot air from the furnace brushed her face, bringing with it a wave of nostalgia.

She remembered the day she was bought in the fiery citadel, she was about six winters old. She was in a cage with some thirty men, women, and children, most of whom were screaming and wailing, and at the time she did not know why. The cage was atop a floating chunk of rock, pulled by chains tied to oxen. She looked out at the charr, shackled females, armoured males, bare kits, many of them looking at the cart with amusement as it was pulled to where she knew not. For some reason, a charr made eye contact with her, so she stared back.

His face was empty of any emotion, no amusement, no anger, no pity, just a set of fearsome fangs, and dark eyes. He stopped the cart, and after brief negotiations with the slaver, she was taken out and pulled along to his smithy. The work was hard, but she was never hungry, and never seriously harmed. She would later learn that carts, like the one she had been on, were destined for entertainment, which for flame legion often involved feeding their "pets." Such knowledge empowered her to not complain for five years, after which, he came.

She did not care to be lost in the past any longer, and only wondered a brief moment whatever came of 'Mudmane' as she had once heard him called. It was not as though she felt sentimental about her past owner, but she felt obligated to at least occasionally think about him. Leaving the smithy, she began her search for her guardian.

Sure enough, she soon spotted Limmock's outlandish colourful frock as he disappeared into the crowds of some sort of square. She ran down the road to follow him, no longer worried. As long as she knew he was here she had not been forgotten, all she had to do was ask the nearest, sober-looking norn and inquire on the location of some outlandish looking carts.

Just as she formulated her scheme in her mind the world became a blur. Both of her hands had been snatched and she found herself in the midst of maelstrom which, once her head stopped spinning, she realised was in reality a large reel dance being performed by Norn children to the sound of drums and high-pitched flutes.

She found herself passed from one child to another as she was hurled through the perfectly timed dance. The norn children were either oblivious to the fact she was not a dancer, or relishing it, either option irritated Orla immensely. Just as she was adjusting her limbs to grab enough leverage to escape from the wild dance, she was cast off by her would-be partners. Had she been a heavy boned norn lass she would have casually stopped, but being a comparatively flimsy human, she found herself in desperation to gain footing as momentum caused her to stumble and twirl uncontrollably.

Gong!

She stumbled back and held her ringing forehead as she cursed under her breath against whatever the hard object was that brought her to a stop.

"You well?" a woman asked in a clipped, efficient accent.

Orla looked up to see a gleaming, yellow trimmed suit of armour decorated with feather and wing-like designs. The wearer was a grinning woman, slightly shorter than her, with raven black hair, a prominent nose and cheerful grey eyes. She rubbed her head trying to alleviate the pain and then realised she still had not replied.

She whipped her hand down and stood up straight. "I'm sorry for running into you."

The woman's smile deepened, and Orla could see her eyes drift to the spot in the middle of her forehead. "Are you looking for someone?" she asked.

"Yes, a caravan of crazy painted wagons."

"Oh, you must mean Limmock."

"You know him?"

"Oh yes, follow me, I know where he is. Name's Kara Finks, of the Seraph guard, yours?"

"Orla Ni Jen, former ranching hand."

As they walked, Kara looked at the girl, who fidgeted and avoided eye contact. She smiled in mock pity. "So, how were you unfortunate enough to end up travelling with that crazy geezer?"

Orla opened her mouth to speak, about to rattle away the whole story, but shut it before it was too late. She glanced at the woman suspiciously. She seemed to exude an air that made one want to tell her everything, and if she did not there would be a price to pay. She wondered whether it was a mesmeric trick, or just her authoritative manner. But alas, she had been silent for too long wondering these things, so she gave a partial explanation, "I'm going with him to seek medical attention. He's a friend of a friend. Do you know something about him?"

The Seraph shrugged. "He's a good sort, a bit odd, but a very kind man. You're lucky you found him. You're from Ascalon correct?"

Orla's surprise spilled into her response, "How did you know?"

"I didn't but you just confirmed it. Besides, your clothes have a very Charr style about them. Are you an escaped slave?"

"Not… exactly…" Orla was beginning to feel irritated with the interrogation.

Kara's face softened. "Oh, I see, Limmock bought your freedom, how kind. What's the medical problem, or is it too personal?"

Orla did not want to give her the wrong idea, but she wanted her prying even less. She nodded.

Kara accepted her answer then looked up and declared, "There they are!"

The caravan was laid out single file before a giant ring that stood on edge. Orla recognised it as an asura portal, like the one Srykar would mention when he would rant about Ebonhawke. Within the ring was a purplish fluctuating lens. A couple asura bounded around the portal adjusting crystals and arguing, always arguing. She smiled at their small bodies, amused by their antics.

Limmock came out to meet the two. "I was just about to go look for you! I sent Kara to fetch you but she probably got distracted on her way."

Kara laughed. "Good thing I did, because she had been commandeered by the norn children for one of their dances."

The old man smiled in amusement.

Orla's eyebrow twitched. "Glad you both find such enjoyment at my expense."

"Oh don't be sour my dear. You need to have your best face on when we arrive at Divinity's Reach. We should be getting clearance through the portal soon."

Sure enough, the asura called in exasperation for them to go.

She gazed in wonder as the carts went through the portal and vanished, however when it came closer to her turn, wonder turned into uncertainty, and by the time she stood right in front of the portal, uncertainty turned into fear. She hesitated, not wanting to make the final step.

Limmock and Kara made a knowing look at one another, then simultaneously grabbed Orla's arms and stepped through. She started to let out a scream but by the time she had a chance to make the measliest of squeaks she was already on the other side of Tyria and looking up at a massive glass ceiling.

"Welcome to Divinity's Reach!" Limmock declared.

Thoughts?

This chapter had it all. Action, comedy, fluff, back-story, and adventure. I'm quite proud of it. This chapter also wraps up our time with Orla. Chapter 7 will have a new character introduced, and we'll return to Seven Steelwolf.