#mith draws

Maybe the weakest, skinniest little norn with nothing much behind his name, Stig was somewhat of an outcast from the moment he was born. Blind since birth, he was "blessed" by an elusive Cuckoo Spirit to help him on his life's journey, yet unable to shapeshift into their form or communicate with them, no matter how hard he tried. He was considered unworthy of norns' boastful lifestyle by some, and pitied for his misfortunes by others, although nobody could ever compare to how he looked upon himself for the happenstance of his birth. Was he "defective" in some way, not worth the effort to lift him up and let him live a life, try to reach for something more?

Still staying loyal to Cuckoo even without their support, Stig turned to Raven after being noticed by him for the cleverness with which the little norn tried to overcome the burdens of his own existence — there, at a young age, was discovered his gift of foresight, an explanation to all the weird sensory visions he would receive; some of them even looked as if he could actually see. Different kinds, both cryptic and mundane. Finally, something he could do and help others with, right? It was probably nice for a time, until enough commotions or unfortunate events were caused, maybe even blamed on him for doing his job wrong, causing Stig to be ever more cautious with sharing what he had gleaned.

Two ravens he rescued were his main company, aside from occasionally the kid of the famous Eir Stegalkin and his little brother with a strange affinity for ice magic. One day, however, the scenery changed into a strange landscape, an echo of the real world, as Stig stumbled through a wayward portal into the Mists. He had to survive there for a time all alone, not even his feathery friends to accompany him, communing with Spirits — then anyone, who'd listen — and desperately trying to get back home. A subtle whisper in his head grew louder the more time he spent essentially meditating, a voice of a person, until it formed and presented itself as none other than Asgeir Dragonrender. With his, rather frustrated at first, help, the little norn managed to get back to the world of the living, though not before getting injured on the way home — a weird, potent surge of lightning struck him. He awoke back home already tended to.

Other norn don't believe him at first when he claims Asgeir was the one to help and guide him — it takes a bit of convincing, talking with the legendary hero's echo and showing Stig's newfound strengths. He can channel the power of the Mists through their connection now, something only havrouns of the Spirits of the Wild can typically do. This earns him the respect of his peers — after all, he is aided by Dragonrender himself. People around him wonder: this must mean he could be the one to crack the Tooth, the Norn of Prophecy, right? Someone Stig never even dared to believe he could be.

However, it was never meant to be. After all the extra training and tireless nights of adapting the chosen combat style to his needs, the one to challange the Tooth wasn't him — instead, it was the hot-headed son of Eir, his friend Braham, who's been adventuring with the famous Pact Commander away from Hoelbrak. One arrow was fired — and as the icy exterior of the trophy crumbled, so did Stig's hopes of proving himself worthy to these people. He became an outcast again. At least his birds and Asgeir were still with him. It didn't matter that Braham supposedly failed his mission to kill the Ice Dragon afterwards: the damage was already done.

Then everything started to go downhill once Kralkatorrik was slain. Unexplainable mysteries, strange fog, disappearances. His friend becoming more and more distant and physically cold until one day he was gone as well. One of the only people who showed Stig what kindness looked like, aside from his mother. It was distressing, scary, none of his visions showing him the way — so he had to find his own, once again. This was the decision that led him to join the Commander and Braham in their venture to the Far Shiverpeaks, and discover the true nature of the little elementalist he called a friend — a scion and champion of Jormag, Numen, who's been the mysterious Cuckoo "Spirit" this whole time.

The team has to confront this dragon on the surface of a cold, frozen Lake Doric — and Asgeir recognizes it. Every norn knows the story of the legendary slayer of Frostfang — Dragonrender killed Jormag's greatest champion in one blow with the help of the Spirits. It was a clear victory, the thing falling off a cliff from the sheer force of the blow, mortally wounded. So how could the very same creature stand before him once again?

The question was answered when the dragon showed the large scar on their neck; they didn't quite remember the fight, but the old wound spoke for itself. A surprise for everyone involved — the greatest kill of Asgeir turned out to be a failure. Remains of the beast were confused with those of Claws of Jormag. And maybe a fact worst of all for the echo of a fallen hero — the frigid monster he was sure he had slain turned out to be one of the very Spirits that helped guide his people to the new home.

(Cue the funny sketch I promised)

Even after that, the team managed to save Numen and end the terror of both Dragons of Fire and Ice.

Eventually, Stig would become Numen's Champion, wanting to be there for them like the dragon was for him. Maybe he had finally found a place he was meant to be in, beside this creature of ice — lonely, yet so full of love for the world. Asgeir wasn't too amused, but what is one more voice in Stig's head, right?

This would mean he'd continue to help the Commander further down the line, and maybe even meet the elusive wizards in their glittering towers — who might have a hand in him meeting Asgeir in the first place.

Aestus is a sylvari of the Dusk Cycle whose pod formed a little ways away from the main cluster in Caledon Forest — closer to the beautiful field of tall rose flowers than anything else. Once discovered, a mender had to be stationed there to keep an eye on it. The life within the pod was weak and unlikely to ever bloom, even with menders' help — their efforts only gave it small bursts of strength to continue developing. Until one morning the once-blue fruit was discovered hanging a little lower just after a visit of a warm, kind-faced charr the day before — now tinted slightly red at the center. It was surprisingly healthy, restored almost as if by a miracle.

When the sapling finally awakened after repelling the vision of a dragon within the Dream with Caithe, the cause for such rapid healing was discovered — the newborn sylvari had a small red shard poking through the center of his chest. A piece of bloodstone that fueled the pod with its magic, his new "heart", exposed for all the world to see.

Despite — or maybe because — the circumstances of his awakening, Aestus is grateful to be alive — a cheerful, warm and driven individual, the kind of person who lights up the room with his presence. Infinitely curious, he is determined to live his life to its fullest, with no regrets — even more so as he later finds out the shard's salvation wasn't as all-powerful as it seemed. While a source of magic in and of itself, it became more unstable the more energy his body took to function — which prompted an… unusual diet of consuming anything that looked even remotely magical or weird enough (woe, toxic hog be upon ye) to balance the scales. It proved to be a valuable exercise in patience as well later in life as Aestus was attempting to gain greater control over the elements.

Nothing changes too drastically from the canon events in his story in the beginning: he dreams of the White Stag, the manifestation of hope, and saves it, and kills Gavin, the Nightmare Courtier, in a duel. He was the first person he ever adventured with as equals, only for the man to turn out the very opposite of Aestus' morals — someone with a goal that would make hundreds miserable. The first friend-turned-enemy, and the first in a row of people to die by their own weapon.

It's only a confirmation of his curiosity for the world that he joins the Durmand Priory further down the road, finding their methods to cause the least amount of casualties involved, as well as provide the most insight into what had happened. When they work, of course. Not at all because finding adventure in long-lost ruins seems to be appealing to him too, no.

Throughout all his various exploits, Aestus is a person who tries to bring the light and comfort into everyone's lives, no matter how dire the circumstances might be, whether it is by dancing his heart out during a festival to invite others to join in, or keeping someone quiet company in the darkest hours of the night. He is constantly dedicating his life to others, more and more so as the story progresses, forgetting about himself in the process more than once. He is the brightest thing on and off the battlefield, bringing all the attention on him instead of his allies — the perfect bait for any who might latch onto the Pact. He trusts his friends, and relies on them to do what they do best while he distracts and pulls focus. He's a helping hand to the family he'd find in Dragon's Watch and a living inspiration to the people fighting against the dragons. And the ticking bomb of repressed emotions, those he can't articulate without breaking the warm and grounding image of the Commander he built over the years (he really said "I'm the Commander of touching grass, i can't let them see I indulge in self-destructive thought"). He is but a humble servant to those that need it most, and it just so happens that Tyria itself needs someone who could put things back on track.

This mentality, as well as the constant feeling of running out of time as the shard grows more unstable the more he uses his magic, aside from the very obvious pull of the Wyld Hunt, is what inevitably dooms him to die at the hands of Balthazar. The God of War and Fire, the embodiment of one of Aestus' greatest fears — becoming a dictator obsessed with power, hellbent on waging endless wars against any and all that he deems fit, the polar opposite of the virtues that the sylvari holds dear to his core — that "all things have a right to grow". And to top it all off, the mage's most trusted element is useless against the God that governs it.

This is the moment where that exposed heart of his breaks, the bloodstone shattering. It will heal, or, rather, "grow" in a different form, no longer a piece of magic, but living metal, as Aestus will take the "humble servant" part of his mentality even further to come back from the dead. Using an ancient Forgotten ritual he'd been studying in his spare time all the way since the assault on the jungle, he turns his own corpse into a construct, not unlike the Forged and Exalted, made of plant matter, metal and colorful glass as his armor and the desert's sands melted and fused together with the sylvari from the sheer heat of his battle against the rogue God. The new "heart" would now tie his soul to the body in absence of anything else holding the two together. It functions similarly to the masks the Exalted are wearing — it is his tether, and if violently removed or damaged beyond repair, the Commander would die a final death.

Similar to the world's view of constructs, he arrives at the same assessment of his own situation — the image of the Commander he is supposed to be — a servant, like an asuran golem, that can either be discarded or recalibrated to fit any need, any task. This "realization" accumulates over time, but despite it Aestus would still try to do what he likes best — making people he loves smile and thrive, even as he is burning from inside out to accommodate. Becoming the kindling this world needs just so everyone makes it out alive.

Killing Trahearne with his own hands, without knowing he would come back in this verse, was probably one of the worst things to happen to him — his own death doesn't compare to the anguish he feels every time a person close to him gets hurt. And despite not ever truly knowing what it's like to lose the Marshal completely, Aestus still feels guilty for being even a little happy he is still there. After all, it wasn't his choice to stay.

The woes of the Commander wouldn't end there. He would emerge victorious over Balthazar and end him for good — or so he thought. He partially absorbed his magic, and just like Aurene, became a new "representation", a new "version" of the God against his will for those, who believed in the tyrant before — the Zaishen Order in particular. The quiet whispers in his head came after. They grew in power until Aestus recognized them for what they were — the dead God's thoughts, his essence or even his soul that latched onto him from the Mists. And it wanted out.

The experience appeared similar to revenants who are able to communicate with the fragments of the Legends long passed at first, but quickly turned dire as Balthazar would try to possess the Commander on more than one occasion, making the gentle sylvari forget himself even for a moment to gain the upper hand. The warmest sunshine of Aestus, now tainted, threatening to become the same hellfire he fought against in Elona. He has his allies to help manage this new "condition", but it does interfere with his life unlike anything else, forcing the sylvari to remain on edge so as not to give up the life he built to someone who would see it brought to ruin.

So he goes on as the beacon, the guiding light for others, tryng to navigate his own problems as smoothly as possible. Colored like the hope of the ever-present butterflies that surround Caladbolg at all times, Aestus is trudging through the greatest challenges the world has to offer. He just has to believe his loved ones would make it to the other side, even if it means he won't live to see it.