#marriac

Marriac has been my main in this game since 2016; after convincing my friends to try this game, they collectively agreed to all play humans so they're all in the same starting area, I tried to play one but not long after I decided to switch to Asura and never looked back.

Marri here is my 'canon' Pact Commander, closely following the events of the game outside of one major event during LWS2 where a leyline experiment may or may not have scrambled her natural magic but we dont need to talk about that right now, ha ha ha...

While her class may be a Mirage Mesmer; I headcanon that she is more of a Holomancer, where her clones and phantasms are hard-light projections combined with some Golemancy tech thanks to her backpack buddy

Thanks to a friend of mine, I have a habit of creating music playlists for various characters of my own; with Marri being no different; I'll admit I might need to update this come SotO (Last Surprise was added shortly after Path of Fire showed off Mirage)

Alright, I think thats enough rambling for today; regardless, I sincerely love this gremlin of mine with my entire heart. And that playing Asura has rewired my brain to play any diminutive choice in an rpg, whether they be Gnome, Lalafell or Goblin

It started slow

A few glares behind corners, the occasional letter pleading for mundane help or retribution against a fallen family member.

Then it became a weekly confrontation in a quieter alley of Lion’s Arch; a daily task of ripping notices nailed to the front door, of removing signs calling her a ‘Coward’, a ‘Menace’

All to a point where one day this small Asuran Commander opened her door to find a bloody note with some all too familiar words inscribed on it

‘Beware, Beware the Mother of Aurene Beware, I heard them cry Their words flew out across the open sky As the world burned through all’

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“So? It’s just some poem some edgy teen thought he could cook up to scare you” Out snarled the voice of Rytlock Brimstone, Tribune of the Blood Legion; now sitting on a couch made much too small; watching an even smaller Asura pace back and forth in her home

“That’s just it!” She retorted, arms agape, “If this was just some one-off ‘Poetry’ I would write it off as simply that! But no, in the past few weeks since dealing with Kralk...”

“Marriac...”

“...I’ve been hearing these whispers of a song, here I was just thinking it was nothing, but no?” She quickly darted into a side room, Rytlock turning to get a better look at Marriac grabbing armfuls of letters before returning “No, apparently some people think I’M the cause for every problem in Tyria. That I’m at fault for everyone who was killed by a Dragon Minion. That just because I was unlucky enough to kill Zhaitan, that I should be the scapegoat” 

Rytlock turned back in his seat as Marriac, in her frustration, threw the multitudes of letters across the room. As they fluttered down over the floor and furniture, Rytlock picked up a few and looked them over.

A good number of them, but not all, had some poem similar to the one Marriac brought to his attention

“Alright, yea. That’s not normal.” He replied, putting what letters he had into a reasonably neat pile on the table next to the couch

“So what’s your plan? Set up a rousing speech saying something like how you and Aurene aren’t a danger? Or do you want me to pull a few strings, get a squad of Ash Legion down here and we can find out who’s behind all th-”

“No” A simple reply

“No? And what? You can’t tell me you’re happy with finding death threats every morning on your doorstep! This is one of those times you have got to stand up and say-”

“NO” Louder this time, shoulders tensed as the word echoed around the small home; before slumping back down, a small roll of thunder outside; “I mean, I’m done, Rytlock. I’m tired.”

Marriac sighed, lifted her head and looking Rytlock dead in the eye dropped a Mesmancy illusion on herself; her already saddened and tired face showing many more eyebags and dried tears 

“I’m done with the heroics, I’m done with doing what I think is best and having two others pay the price for me. I’m tired of being The Commander, I just want to be Marriac.”

“How...how much sleep have you gotten in the past few weeks?”

“About as much one can expect when every other night some mourner comes banging on your door demanding a blood payment” She tensed, remembering some harsher words spoken against her on some of those nights, before reapplying the illusion; “The point being, I can’t stay here. This city is a powder keg strapped to my back; and if it gets any worse I’m afraid I’m gonna take the whole place down with me”

“Fair enough, I can get in touch with Jor and Kas, there’s plenty of hidden places in The Citadel and The Reach you could hold up for the time being while we figure this out. Heh, you could probably hide out tucked under Braham’s armor, if that doesnt work out”

The look from a face redder than he’s ever seen proved the answer to that

“Alright” Rytlock tried to say under stifled laughter, getting up from his seat, “I’ll be in touch, you get work on packing the essentials; I’ll try and get someone from the Pact to see if we can’t get your mounts out of the city” 

Knock Knock, both friends freeze as an unexpected voice comes from the other side of the door, “Sorry, Commander, but begging your pardon that we can discuss that thing I told you about the other day?”

“You should of told me you were expecting someone else, I would have gotten out of your hair sooner” 

“I wasn’t”

BAM! The door suddenly flies off it’s lock as it whams into the wall beside, in the door frame a mob of people all carrying various weapons and flaming objects, all of them trying to push themselves through

“Sorry ‘bout this miss,” A local fisherman Marriac was sure she’s seen a few times about the Trading Post, “But we’ve all had a long talk, and we’ve come to the decision that you’re too dangerous to be left alone”

“None o’us want to take the chance,” One of the tailors she’s helped give a few pointers a few years ago, “Every time you go up against something you leave destruction in yer wake, so to combat this...” She only pulls up a bundle of rope

“And of course, if that fails,” Fear shoots through Marriac as she sees a Lionsguard among them, “That dragon, is sure to come to your aid, so it’d be dealing with two birds with one stone.”

FWOOOOSH! The room quickly becomes bathed in an orange light as Rytlock pulls Sohothin out and aims it squarely at the door, before slicing at the frame setting it ablaze

“RUN”

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Marriac stood atop the balcony of her home, the crackling of wood and embers lighting the mob of people surrounding it in the warm summer night

‘So this is how I go out? Either fallen into a burning wreck or pulled out and martyred? Can’t say I’m thrilled’

The mob stood silent, simply watching her as more timbers fell

‘Maybe it’s for the best, I am a threat. If I’m not taken out, then what other damage could I cause?’

She looks past the mob, over the softly lapping waves of Lion’s Arch, to a shimmering moon on the waters surface

‘But....if I’m so much a threat, who’s to say the next hero wont make the same mistakes? And besides that! They arent gonna stop with me, they’ll hunt Aurene until Tyria breaks! I...I can’t leave that...’

One last time, Marriac slips back into her home, the fires and smoke slowly working its way up to the second floor. With one final silent goodbye, she picks up one of the letters strewn about, emblazoned with one of the poems,

‘If they want to treat me like a Villain, then I’ll become what they fear most.’

After a few tense minutes, Marriac steps back out, a slight purple light illuminating her underneath the orange flames, her arms held outstretched as she tells a speech of how she’s done everything for Tyria, and how she isn't going down silently

A bang! A crack! As a bullet flies from a less stable mob member, right through Marriac; as she simply smiles darkly as the bullet hole flutters away on a purple butterfly. 

As dozens, hundreds of Marriacs pour and run from the burning building out into the dispersing, surprised mob. People running after them or running away, it didnt matter.

As a single Marriac walks out of the burning building, a simple hand wave rendering her from view, invisible as she escapes into the night