Probably not mange

Well! This has been in the works for a couple years, as a response to the graphic novel style narrative @cacoethic​ gifted me back around the time the Elona maps were released, seen here on his GW2 blog @reapershroud​!

I did my best to emulate his delivery in my response, and started the gestures for these back in 2018. A lot has been released in the game since that time, and some of the amorphous plot points I included may be less than applicable as a result. Forgive me this transgression, as this is more important to me as a completed project  - art’s been an elusive pasttime and all my attempts to hide in it have fizzled out as my efforts have been focused on surviving this shitshow of a timeline irl

Pemphigo (Charr) belongs to me /@hide-nor-hare Ordaen (???) belongs to Cacoethic /@reapershroud​

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  “Did you ever specify the ‘brawny’ reason you hired me for? Pretty sure you did and I don’t remember, or you did and it was a pretense anyway because you knew I wouldn’t resist your,” Pemphigo wiggled his fingers, “...intrigue.”

  “Honestly? You are here getting sloppy seconds on a false start I had ages ago. But I think you agreed as soon as I offered to cover room and board in Elona.” 

  “There’s no way that’s what you - that doesn’t even answer my question? What are you pointing my pointy parts at, now that I’m pissed off at how many bar tabs you’ve pinned on me?”

  “Just head for the nearest horizon and I’ll stop you before you launch yourself off the edge.”

"Your thousand-yard stare keeps landing on those busted old statues.” “?” “You’ve missed like five flax nodes. What’s up.” “Ah.”

  Ordaen broke eye contact and began to climb. “It’s just...a lot has changed. This isn’t the Lonely Vigil I remember. She was one who kept watch here, once...”   Pemphigo’s ears perked up when he heard something he could actually discuss, “Was she hot?”

  “...you tell me, have these gams stood the test of time?” Ordaen gestured to the debris.   Pemphigo clicked his tongue in disappointment. “Damn girl, looks like you deserve the rest,” he said, thoughtful. “Looks like time sandblasted the tits off you, too.” He gave a rough pat to the moss-padded rubble. “Bet everyone said they were daft to build a damsel in the swamp.”

“Back then it wasn’t a swamp.”

  “What’s with all this shady broody bullshit, Ordaen? You know how hard I word to avoid prying into someone’s personal lore. Dicks up my plausible deniability.” He paused to gauge whether using all these fancy words would get a reaction - damn fool’s errand that was, with no face to read. “You wanted to come down here and you asked for brawn, so the only thing on my application was ‘I may not be too bright but I can lift heavy things.’ Never found a better pitch for contract work, matter of fact.  “But all right, I fold. You’ve been here before, knew where to look, knew the hidden entrances, secret handshakes, weren’t thrown off by that weird scholarly krait --”

Ordaen’s shoulders stiffened, then sagged, another sigh riffling his hood.

  “No, let me get my question out. You just sit there and be flattered that I care enough to let you frustrate me.” Pemphigo brought his head down to what could have passed for eye-level, waiting to be interrupted. Instead, he got a terse ‘after-you’ gesture that led right back to crossed arms. Pemphigo rose back up with a snort that ruffled Ordaen’s hood yet again.    “When was it that you learned your way around this place? ‘Way back when’ is fine for everyone else and their deep dark past, but it takes a long damn time for desert to become swamp.” 

  Ordaen stared inscrutably at Pemphigo, and his fingers drummed against his upper arms like he was weighing up his options. At last, he answered. "Admittedly, I thought you'd be the ideal bodyguard because you don't fret about other people's affairs so much.” Ordaen breathed in deeply, dropping his gaze in contemplation. Below the damp-darkened stone of their perch, the misty ground looked distant and washed-out like old parchment. "Are you sure it's care that's making you ask, and not just a sense of obligation to sort out these loose ends of mine? That's what I want to know."  

  “Ordy, I’ve never been a man after resolution, so this time it’s incidental if anything. You’re just dropping these hints like you expect me to chase them across Tyria and frankly, I get enough of that bullshit from Vrenille’s odd taste in suitor tokens.” He stuck the tip of his tongue out in mock offense. “I can’t figure out what you’re hoping I’ll pounce on, or whether you want me to know it or not. Skip the part where I tease it out of you.” 

   Pemphigo lifted a paw to count off curt guesses finger by finger. “Eitherrrrr you’ve read up on this place but your info’s old, orrr someone contacted you and caught you up but their info’s old, or you’ve generated your own info but you and the info are old as dirt because you stalled out so bad improvising a follow-up.” And with that, well, he was fresh out of ideas, so one finger remained up.