Can you outrun a centaur?

Nereus Cinderpaw is nothing like his brother, Zaire. Nereus lives out his life in violence and blood, his fire magic growing as dangerous as his temper. His favorite place is in the arena, where he can be careless and not worry about hurting others or about getting out of control. 

He held his Hydra staff tightly in one clawed hand. The snake heads on his beloved weapon hissed their encouragement. He watched the Charr on the other side of the arena, lithe and agile, her fur a light brown and gold color that reminded him of his brother. He snarled at the thought.

Nereus breathed out heavily through his nose and stood to his full height, his tail flicking behind him in impatience. He snarled as a new opponent approached him, his lips curling back to bear his teeth. He took two heavy steps forward, the dirt of the arena going up in puffs of dust. Nereus stamped the end of his staff on the ground, signalling that he was prepared. 

His opponent shook out her fur, she too held a staff but she would be using it quite differently. She rushed him, flying forward and swinging her staff. Nereus leaped backwards and snarled. He used his staff to block an incoming swing of hers and pushed backwards, making her stumble over her paws. The snakes on Nereus’ weapon hissed in encouragement. 

She ran at him again but he hit the end of his staff on the ground once more and dragged his other hand, palm up, claws curled, toward the sky. A wall of flame erupted in front of his opponent and she had no way to stop. A yowl sounded out in the arena as she hurtled through the flames, disoriented and panicked. Nereus planted both paws on the ground firmly and raised his arms to the heavens. He brought them down, focused and breathing hard, channeling the magic that lay in his blood. Large, smoldering rocks fell from the sky, smashing violently into the dirt floor of the arena. 

Nereus watched his rival with a smirk curling his lips, as the daredevil tried to expertly avoid the falling meteors. He was safely out of their range. He would never trust his own magic enough to be caught in its path. She leaped and dodged and ran on all fours to avoid the rocks, her staff held on her back.

But he was caught off guard as she took a sharp turn and headed straight for him, bowling him over so he landed on his back. She rolled off him and landed on all fours before quickly getting to her feet. Nereus rolled and stood as well but his enemy stuck fast, hitting him in the side with her staff, hard. He stumbled and she struck again, hitting his other side. 

He could feel his anger rising. His temper growing. He didn’t like losing. 

Nereus dug his hind claws into the earth. His fist clenched around the body of his staff and he slammed it into the ground, roaring in his fury. The daredevil was taken aback, she had never seen such a thing. 

The ground cracked and split from where his staff dug into earth. Flames erupted, sparks flew. Nereus’ eyes shone with rage and his fangs glittered in the light. The ground split open further under his opponent’s paws and she staggered, her paws slipping where the earth was fragmented and crumbling. 

“Just focus,” He whispered to himself, shuffling his feet slightly. “Just focus. Just clear your mind.”

Ria notched an arrow in his bow and breathed slowly. He closed one eye and tried to hold aim at the target. It was a clumsy circle drawn on a dying tree. It had an outer ring that surrounded a large dot. He frowned at the target, aiming and firing. 

The arrow followed through and hit true to Ria’s aim, sinking its point deep into the painted ink of the inner dot.

—-

Cyn had given it to him just a few days ago. She held it out and smiled and said in that gentle voice of hers, “Look, I had this made for you, Blossom.”

“Why?” Ria asked immediately. He had always been so skilled with his sword, he never even thought about using another weapon, let alone something so different. 

“I just,” She shrugged. A tiny movement of her shoulder, and she smiled, a big upturn of her lips. “I had a feeling.”

“A feeling, hm? You have those a lot.” He took the longbow from her and felt the weight of it in his hand. And he had to admit, it did feel… right. 

“And are they ever wrong?” 

“Well, I can think of one instance.” Ria teased, looking at her.

She bristled like an affronted fern hound at that. “When?”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” He laughed and waved his hand at her. “You’re always right, Petal, you know that.”

Cyn laughed softly. “Always right,” She repeated, clearly trying to mimic Ria’s deeper voice. He rolled his eyes.

She handed him a quiver next, it was full to the brim with arrows. He took it and glanced at the feathered ends of the arrows. He was curious to try the new weapon but hadn’t the faintest clue how to proceed. He donned the sash that held the quiver and felt the weight of it. It was always so curious how Cyn seemed to know just what would work with him.

Months had passed by, and they had gone far too slowly. Cura wasn’t sure how long he had been locked away in the Inquest camp. Around a month ago he began to feel the results of the lack of sunlight on his body. His skin was draining of its vibrant green color and growing a darker almost brown in result. The bright purple of the leaves that made up his hair had grown dull and just the other day, started to fall out. Cura was beginning to lose hope.

He lay on his back, his eyes fixed on a crack on the ceiling of his cell. The Asura that used him the most had left just moments ago. Cura’s breathing hitched as pain sparked through his system again and again. The Asura were all so very fascinated by Sylvari and how they worked. The scientist that studied Cura - Drixx - was especially interested in the shimmering yellow sap-like blood. So Cura lay there, after Drixx left, fresh gashes cut into the cracking bark of his chest and cheek.  

He did not have the strength to do much but lay there and openly bleed onto the floor of his cell. It would be cleaned, Cura assured himself, if there was one thing that Asura didn’t like it was mess.

Cura did not much like allowing his mind to wander lately. He found that it distracted him, yes, but those distractions kept him from noticing when a scientist was coming closer. He felt himself jump when he heard one of them pass by him. The action itself caused him to cry out, one hand moving quickly to cover a large gash in his chest. He carefully moved to sit up against the wall of the cell.

Looking down, he frowned at the open wound on his chest. He did not want to go to the Mists this way, locked up, like all the others. He put pressure on the wound, hissing through clenched teeth, feeling the slow warmth of blood flow through his fingers.

“Dear Mother…” He cursed softly, eyes closing tightly to fight back tears. He was so thankful that night had fallen and the Asura had all gone home.

“You’ll get past it soon enough,” a rough voice said suddenly.

Cura jumped in his spot at the shock of a voice. He cursed again as the movement sent a shock of pain through him. It came from the next cell over from his, a little ways away, just across a small hallway. He had no idea there was anyone in there, it had been silent for so long.

“Who’s there?” Cura croaked out, not used to using his voice any longer.

“I am Eztil,” The voice replied. It sounded tired.

“Eztil,” Cura whispered, “are you Sylvari?”

“I am not, Sapling.” It croaked, “I am Nuhoch.”

Cura’s breath hitched as the Dream hit him. His eyes closed suddenly, clenched shut as visions of Nuhoch surfaced in order to help him get an image. Large frogs - no, they were toads - that were larger even than norn. Cura saw them in his mind, croaking, walking, acting out their lives, all in a quick flash of a vision. He opened his eyes and stared in the direction that the voice had come in.

“Nuhoch.” Cura repeated softly.

“Yes, Sapling.” Eztil replied. A little noise sounded out in the silence of the laboratory and Cura thought it might be Eztil moving closer to him. “Is anyone else awake out there?”

“I.. I’m not sure. I don’t want to move. It hurts…”

Noise sounded out once more and Cura could picture the large toad shifting again. Cura leaned his head against the side of his cell. He closed his eyes and listened carefully. Eztil sighed, “Where does it hurt?”

“My chest.” He murmured softly, not even sure if the Nuhoch could hear him.

“How long have you been here?”

“I… I don’t know. I’m not sure. Weeks? Months?” His breath caught in his throat at the thought. Had he been there for months? And no one had come for him? Was anyone looking?

“I’m sorry, Sapling.” The toad croaked.

“What about you?”

“About me?”

“How long have you been here?” Cura shifted slightly to get more comfortable, hissing through clenched teeth as he did so.

“Years, must be.”

“Years…” He whispered, eyes wide. “Years… and no one’s come for you?”

Eztil let out a little chuckle, “No, I’m sure they believe me dead.”

Cura closed his eyes tightly, fighting back tears. “No one’s going to come for me, are they, Eztil?”

“I do not know what I could tell you, Sapling.”

The sylvari’s chest stuttered as he released a sob. A hot new wave of pain flashed through him and he clutched at his chest, but couldn’t stop the tears from falling. He could almost feel the eyes of other sylvari peeking over at his cell. But he couldn’t hear any movement from Eztil’s cell. Cura held his shaking hand to his chest, covering his wound still, though the blood had stopped spilling.

He shook his head slowly, “I don’t want to be here forever… I can’t. I only just awakened, I haven’t done anything yet. Haven’t followed my Wyld Hunt. Haven’t helped anyone. All- All I’ve done was betray Mother Tree and… and that’s why I’m here.”

The Little Things: Kneel For Boons

There are some statues scattered around Tyria that offer you special boons if you use the /kneel emote in front of them. It seems to be random as to which statues offer the boons (ex. not all norn spirit statues give you a boon, but some do).