#therealrahar

Fury: What is a word/phrase that you dread to hear?

Retson pulled an Asura Compact Music Disc from his cabinet, holding it up with a rather quaint look towards his friend, who sat in the middle of his living room with a bottle of moonshine in one hand and parchment all over around him.

“You like Destiny’s Child, Gilbert?”

Gilbert pulled the bottle from his lips and waved around a hand. “Uh... they’re, they’re okay?”

Retson tossed the disk back and paced a large semicircle around Gilbert. “Their early work was a little too Elonan for my tastes. But when they made Survivor in ‘01, they really came into their own, professionally, AND artistically!”

Leaving Gilbert to audibly chug more moonshine, Retson powerwalked away towards his kitchen. “The whole album has a wholesome, emotional sound, and a new sheen of consummate professionalism that gives their songs--”

He paused to throw on a ragged old raincoat. “--a big boost!”

Gilbert was too busy trying to shake the last bit of moonshine from his bottle to hear Retson taking a sharp bite of an apple, or to see him jogging backwards in his raincoat behind him. “They’ve been compared to TLC, but I think Destiny’s Child has a more earthy, feel-good atmosphere.”

Gilbert gave an almighty squint and looked over his chair. “Hey-- hey Retson?”

Retson gave an earnest smile and finished his last button. “Yes, Gilbert?”

“What’s... what’s with the parchment scattered all over the place... have you got, like. Like a, like a miniature -charr-, or something?”

“No, Gilbert, I don’t!”

“Retson--” Gilbert’s brows shot up as Retson hustled forward, “--is that a raincoat?”

“Yes, it is!” The scar-faced man punched a button on the asuran device. “In ‘05 they released this, Destiny Fulfilled, their most accomplished album. I think,” he said, sashaying forward behind Gilbert again as music began blaring, “undisputed masterpiece is "Girl.” A song so catchy, most people probably don't listen to the lyrics!

“But they -should-, because it’s not just about domestic abuse and sisterly platonic love. It’s a personal statement about the dynamic of the band itself. Hey, Gilbert!”

Gil turned and his eyes went wide as he saw Retson sprinting at him with a massive mace. In one fell swoop the mercenary cracked Gil’s head like a melon, splattering blood and brains all over the parchment as the man fell over like a sack.

“TRY BUYING OUT ALL THE APPLES IN THE REACH NOW, YOU FUCKING STUPID BASTARD!”

A little known initiative was made to adapt Guild Wars 2 storylines and characters into a line of charming, heartwarming animated cinematic wonders, using kickstartered crowdsourced characters and guilds. One such film in the making, The Mercenary And The Charr, is a story of inter-species love and gritty mercenary combat, featuring James “Sixteen-Stone Slaughterhouse Of Salma″ Retson as the central antagonist with his bumbling sidekick, Gilbert “If You Have A Pelt I Break Out The Belt” Redding. Here is a sneak excerpt from one of the songs in the film, final edits pending!

((https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VuJTqmpBnI0))

Retson: Who does she think she is?

That Rabble has tangled with the wrong man. Gilbert: Darn right. Retson: No one says ‘I win’ to Retson! Defeated! Demoted! Publicly humiliated! I can’t show my face, anymore! Gilbert: More apples? Retson: What for? Nothing helps. I'm disgraced. Gilbert: Who, you? Never! Retson, you've got to pull yourself together....

Retson gracefully levitated down from his spot on top of the irrigation tower, the dirt and rocks on the ground below shivering when his boot-clad feet landed. Will Bonnett, across from him, with the Blackclaw at his back, just gave Retson a cold, one-eyed stare.

“Well, Bonnett, I see you won’t back down. Save yourself the embarrassment before you lose your OTHER eye!”

Will grit his teeth as a chorus of concerned, uneasy grunts and noises of worry sounded off from the Blackclaw behind him. “I’m not backing down this time, Retson. You’ve gone too far.”

“What NERVE you have! I spare you, and this is the thanks I get?” Retson narrowed his eyes, spreading his arms out with his palms wide. “I’ll have to teach you a lesson... in respect!”

The scar-faced mercenary tilted his chin up and clenched his fists, the air around him erupting into a flurry of dust and crackling red energy. He bulked up, instantaneously, putting on a full foot of height, his eyes glowing red and his veins bulging beneath his now leathery skin. The various Blackclaw had to squint and cover their faces to see the display.

“I’ve been training since our last encounter, Retson. This won’t be so easy for you...” Will threw off his Blackclaw training gi to reveal the trenchcoat underneath, settling his arms to his sides and concentrating hard. “...Especially when I take your EYES!”

The dust kicked up again as Will let out a loud, prolonged yell, his muscles bulging and his single eye dilating sharply. The ground shook beneath everyone’s feet and the hunter’s trenchcoat did a good imitation of an angry bat as he gathered more and more power, drawing upon the holy rage of friendship and liquor within himself, pulling it out and suffusing his body with it.

After what seemed like hours, there was a flash of golden light and, as the dust settled, there stood Will, muscular and tall, his now spiky hair dyed bright gold. Yellow energy crackled around him, whipping his coattails about. He directed a long-faced, stoic scowl at Retson.

“Nice hair dye, Bonnett-- but it’s not going to be enough. I’ll rip the meat from your bones and make furniture out of them! That’s if any are left in one piece!” Retson narrowed his eyes and suffused himself in another wave of red energy, cracking the ground beneath his feet.

“You’ve taken people’s lives and body parts again and again. Soon you’ll turn on the Claw. I’m not about to let that happen-- not yet!” Will clenched his fists and a bright flare of energy erupted around him.

“IT’S OVEEEERRRR, RETSOOOON!”

Then, in a brilliant clash of red and gold, they rushed at each other, their blows shaking the earth and forcing the spectators back. Retson struck with animalistic ferocity, pummeling the ground with every missed blow. Will moved with more precision, countering raw power with finesse, but his blows found no purchase on Retson’s hide.

The hunter leapt back against the irrigation tower as Retson delivered a spinning axe-kick to his forearms, resting there only a moment before leaping off when the engineer-turned-brute charged him. Retson’s fists tore into the foundation of the tower, shattering it clean at the base, but instead of letting it fall, he grabbed it in one hand, twirled it around, and hurled it like a javelin at Will.

Will bared his teeth and, in a flurry of yellow energy and skin, let his fists fly, pulverizing the tower at lightning speed as it ricocheted toward him, sending off a shower of stone, dirt and debris that Cerise only barely managed to stop before it machinegunned the Claw. This sent Will into a fury, and he leapt at Retson again. “YOU CALLOUS FREAK!”

Retson grinned and moved to parry-- but Will was too fast. He slammed his fist into Retson’s stomach, eliciting a spray of blood from the other man’s mouth. He brought his fists down again and again, punching Retson higher into the air before momentum kicked in and the other mercenary went flying across the field, kicking up a plume of dirt. Will grit his teeth and reached up to grab at his eyepatch.

“WILL! DON’T!” yelled Nora, eyes wide and face pleading, “YOU DON’T HAVE THE STRENGTH FOR THAT!”

“I HAVE TO TRY!” barked Will, and he tore his eyepatch away, settling into a fierce stance and cupping his hand in a circle around his empty socket, which began to blaze with bright golden energy as he gathered his power.

Retson pushed himself up from the ground in a spray of stone, eyes narrowing dangerously as he saw what Will was doing. “You want to play it THAT way, hm? Well, then, you’ll go out with a BANG!”

The scar-faced brute set his feet wide and brought both hands to his gut, cupping them around each other. A whirling, apple-shaped nimbus of energy quickly manifested, and arcs of red lightning surrounded him as he, too, gathered his energy, letting out a ragged yell as he did. Behind Will, Chessi gasped and Dezigrar grimaced.

“He’ll destroy the whole planet if he’s not careful-- everybody, back up!”

The Claw began to retreat as the two points of light, red and gold, grew brighter and brighter, Retson’s hands moving further and further out to accomodate the energy-apple and Will’s face contorting as he struggled to properly channel his power through his eye-hole. Their combined yelling reached epic proportions, splitting ears as easily as it split the trees and the ground. The clouds grew dark above them, and lightning arced down from the sky.

“ARE YOU READY TO FACE OBLIVION, BONNETT?”

“I’LL SEND YOU TO THE AFTERLIFE, RETSON!”

“VERY WELL THEN!” Retson compressed the energy-apple and then tilted his body to the side, gathering all the energy with his hands by his hip. Will leaned forward and widened his eye-circle, his aura flaring up brightly in anticipation.

“THIRD APPLE RELEASE: GALA GUN!”

“LIQUOR TECHNIQUE: OPTICAL OBLITERATION! FIRE!”

There was an alimighty roar as Retson thrust his palms forward and sent an apple-shaped wave of crackling red energy hurtling towards Will, who, in kind, let out a stream of scalding yellow life force from his eyesocket, phantasmal beer suds bubbling around it as it arced forward and met Retson’s blast head on, carving a steep crater on the round below the point of impact. For several minutes the two fought, pushing the beams back and forth, until, at long last, Will’s own beam started to press on steadily. This angered the Retson.

“No! You’re-- not going to beat ME!”

“You’re burning through power too fast to handle, boy! I’ll carve you like a Wintersday moa! For my friends! For Blackclaw! For my eye!”

Retson’s muscles bulked up once more in time with an almighty scream, and another surge of energy pulsed forward, tearing into Will’s beam and forcing it back. The hunter, gritting his teeth, knew he couldn’t match it-- so he took a third option.

He tilted his head upwards, directing his beam away from Retson’s and right at the other man’s head, letting the Gala Gun hit him full force.

And then, everything went black.

((For therealrahar))

“Lord Jacques! Lord Jacques!”

The tall, flat-helmed man in Templar garb turned from his spot on the rock, brushing blood and dirt from his tunic. Leon scrambled toward him, shattered sword in hand. Behind the young squire was a field of baking corpses and screaming men.

“They wish for you to help move onto the city-- orders from--”

“I understand.” Jacques turned to the city in the distance, the one that a line of angry, battered soldiers was now slowly advancing upon. It was hard to make out any details through the heat waves rising off of the scorching sands.

“Leon, who is to lead the siege?”

Leon blinked, pushing his battered pot-helm up his forehead. “Elias is. It was supposed to go to Luis, but he took a saracen arrow to the kidney.”

Jacques ran a dirty rag down his longsword, turning once more to Leon. “Is he to survive?”

“They do not think so.”

Leon paused, then, snorting dirt from his nostrils. Jacques turned away and pulled his helmet from his head, tucking it under one arm as he sheathed his blade. “Good.”

“I-- good? What do you mean? He will not survive the night!”

“His faith is steeped in bloodlust. Were it him leading the raid, all would be butchered. No one spared.” Jacques shifted his weight, letting the stifling, gritty wind tussle his sweaty, unkempt head of rust-brown hair.

“They are heathens and murderers, Lord Jacques.”

“Yes, but those that surrender and do not take up arms deserve at least the holy judgment of God, not the steel judgment of man. The women should not be violated. The children, given a chance to see the truth. They know no better-- the moslems have been polluting their minds.”

Jacques turned back to Leon, his brow furrowed, sweat clinging to his stubbled but scarless face. That lantern jaw of his worked side to side in clear irritation, and the look in his eyes gave Leon no small measure of pause. After a moment, the boy nodded.

“I-- I see. It is good that Elias is merciful.”

“Mercy has no place here. Justice does. Elias is just, and he will treat the women and children justly. Men like him and I, Leon, will bring this land under its rightful rule. Not men like Luis. The rapists and boy-fondlers. Our Lord in Heaven will bring his own justice upon them in due time.”

With that, Jacques replaced his helmet atop his head and strode out to the field of bodies, unsheathing his sword once more to swifly bury it in the throat of a bleeding, crawling muslim. The man gurgled and clasped at his gushing neck as the crusader walked on past, searching for more saracen wounded on his way to the advancing line.

I NEED A GUILD WARS 2 SUICIDE SQUAD WITH RETSON, GILBERT AND NAZAHAH IN IT.

“Man, Retson, these are some good fucking apples!” Gilbert grinned and bit into his red fruit. The bloodsplattered woman beside him just kept silent and munched away. “This is some farm fresh shit. You know, me and Scarlet would be fine with some cheap Granny Smiths, but he rolls out the good stuff on us! What kind of apples are these?”

Retson stared at the two, his own apple in hand. His expression was flat as a board. “Knock it off, Gilbert.”

Gil just blinked and shifted around. “Hm?”

“I don’t need you to tell me how good my fucking apples are, alright. I know how good they are, I buy them out in Queensdale every week. The Reach shit is never ripe and they’re always half bruised.” Retson planted a hand on his toolbench and leaned forward. “But my apples aren’t what’s on my mind, Gilbert. What’s on my mind is the dead charr in my fucking shed.”

Gilbert pursed his lips and rolled his head back, tossing his apple from hand to hand. “I-- Hey, look, Retson, we--”

“No no no, Gilbert, let me ask you a question.” Retson put down his apple and snatched up his shotgun, his prototype, looking it over. “When you came strolling up in the dead of night, in from who knows where, was there a sign on my house that said ‘Dead Charr Storage’?”

“Look, Retson, you know--”

He was cut off by Retson racking the shotgun. “Did you NOTICE a sign in front of my fucking house that said ‘Dead Charr Storage’?”

Gilbert slowly eased Scarlet’s hand away from her gun, lowering his head a bit to give Retson a level stare. “...No.”

“D’you know WHY you didn’t see that sign?”

Gilbert licked his lips and widened his eyes a bit, supressing a sigh. “Why?”

“Because it’s not there, because storing dead CHARR ain’t my fuckin’ BUSINESS, that’s why!” He slammed his shotgun on the table and then bent down, fishing a shovel from who-knows-where and throwing it unceremoniously at Gilbert.

“Get it the fuck -out- before I get the Seraph called on me.”

Gilbert scrambled to pick up the shovel, his apple having fallen to the ground. “Look, Retson buddy, we didn’t mean to go fucking up your shit, we just needed to do some things and call some people and--”