I have really enjoyed reading this since Jaric started and decided to share it here on Stratics. I hope you all enjoy! Link: https://forum-en.guildwars2.com/forum/community/fangen/Nuregar-This-is-My-Story Nuregar - This is My Story Edit: This was intended to be a short excerpt, however I have decided to simply write until the story of Nuregar reaches it’s conclusion, and have edited the title to reflect it. I hope you all enjoy this story. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Divinity’s Reach After a week in my hometown, I remembered how it felt. I remember how the different areas of residence sounded different, how the people acted different depending on where they called ‘home’. I remembered growing up, playing with the other street kids. The sounds of merchants peddling their wares while children played in the commons. Crafters going about their work in the Promenade. It was there I learnt how to craft jewellery, and also how to cook. Taverns would come to life as the sunlight was replaced by torchlight in the streets. Warmth, light and noise would spill from those places, chasing away the dark and quiet that used to keep me safe and secure as a child. I remembered many things. But most of all, I remember it being more alive. This was not the place I had departed from. The city felt muted, as if there was a shroud cast overhead. I had to admit, this wasn’t far from the truth. There was a madwoman, or plant if you prefer, loose in the world who threatened so much these days. Too often, I heard that name muttered in hushed tones. Too often, I heard news of more fighting and losses. And far, far too often could a Seraph soldier be seen, shoulders weighed down with heavy responsibility, mustering the courage to knock on yet another door and hand over that small piece of paper that would change the life of the person or people within forever. I had witnessed reactions of people opening that door, to find a tired, grim, implacable soldier standing before them holding out that news. Some mutely and slowly accepted it. Others crumpled to the ground. More than a few would cry some form of denial, and a number of those would slam the door shut as if denying they ever saw it meant it did not happen. A minority would look the soldier in the eye, and thank them. After delivering the message, every soldier would do the same thing. Take one step back, come to full attention, and salute. They didn’t say anything. Didn’t offer any platitudes. There was nothing to be said. They would then turn and walk away. I believe only the minority who thanked the soldier understood. A small portion would reach out, and momentarily lay a hand on the soldier, or nod. I wondered how heavy that piece of paper had become to some of those men and women. I knew it had become too much for one younger soldier. I was watching him deliver some news, and when the door was opened by a young woman I observed a twitch as he handed the paper over. He kept his back straight and his head high as he walked away, but the moment he turned out of sight down an alley his facade broke down, as did he. Had I not followed him, I would not have known. There, he had removed his helmet and knelt facing the wall, weeping silently. I didn’t usually go seeking the company of Seraphs for obvious reasons, but there were times when it didn’t matter. He said she looked just like his sister. He had been handing out notices for months now, and thought he was fine. He used to let himself ‘drift’ when he knocked on those doors, wouldn’t see the faces, wouldn’t hear the words, and went through the motions. But seeing that face, so similar to his sister’s, he couldn’t drift. Everything had come crashing down on him at once and broken him. I stood by him, not judging, not speaking. I picked up his helmet and waited. When he lifted his head, I held out a hand and helped him back to his feet, in more ways than one. Words weren’t necessary anymore. I couldn’t tell you how long we stood there, hands clasped, but by the time he released his grip on my hand, he had gained a grip on himself. I brushed some dirt off his helmet, and handed it over. I took a step back as he put it on, and saluted. Left fist in the small of the back, right fist over heart. I held that salute as the Seraph straightened to full attention, and slowly returned the salute. His eyes now had a small glimmer of determination. Our salutes ended, and we went our separate ways. Sometimes, we need to support our soldiers in return. This will be a continuation of the story I began in the Warning Buoy thread. I expect this to get quite long. And please, do not post in the ‘Warning Buoy’ thread itself, it does not need resurrection from where it is.