[GW2] Sigla, Blixx, and the whole damn story

[Mixxi]

Jorry Harkin, tavern keeper of The Three Sheets, believed in equal-opportunity inebriation, and he had thoughtfully provided properly-sized tables and benches for the various races of Tyria. He even had an ale-garden out back for the Sylvari, although he wasn't at all sure that the sharp-smelling brew they preferred could rightly be called ale.

His tender considerations resulted in happy, comfortable, noisy patrons who were rapidly making Jorry a rich man. He did not like what gloomy, solitary drinkers did to his tavern, and thus it was with determination that he approached the sad-faced young man who slumped over a half-consumed pint.  "Did you hear the one about the Sylvari and the woodcutter?" he asked with a knowing wink and a jog of the young man's elbow.

His attempt was rewarded with a deep sigh that ended in what sounded suspiciously like a moan. He really hated this part of the job. Gritting his teeth, he produced the obligatory query. "Had a tough day?" 

The young man indulged in yet another sigh and took a long swallow. "I've lost everything. My life is over."

"Best throw yourself in the bay then!" is what Jorry so wanted to say, but he leaned over and poured more ale into the lad's tankard, not trusting himself to speak. Steeling himself, he drew breath to speak the sympathetic words expected of him.

"Jorry! Stop wastin' good ale an' bring me more. An' bring th' wet lad, too," called a Norn woman from a nearby table. She banged her empty tankard on the scarred tabletop  for emphasis and grinned at the morose young man. "No one drinks alone on my watch. Who'll keep Blixx here from stealin' yer purse when y' pass out?" An immensely-wrinkled Asura looked up from a Norn-sized bench that he was using as a makeshift worktable, the surface littered with tangles of wire, drifts of tiny metal parts, and disturbing-looking tools. He gestured toward the Norn woman with a sparking length of copper tubing. "You can fix this yourself, Sigla, if you can figure out which end of a wrench is which."

The Norn grinned again and retorted, "That's more likely than you knowin' which end of a wench is which!" The Asura harrumphed and returned to his work while the woman continued to gesture Jorry and his customer over to her. The tavern keeper looked at her gratefully and prodded the young man to her table, dropping off the lad's tankard as well as the entire pitcher of ale. "On the house, Sig," he murmured as he passed.

Sigla winked and filled her tankard, then set down the pitcher before giving the fair-haired stranger a friendly clout on the shoulder with her huge left hand. "Yer world ended did it? No hope? Nothin' t' live for?" The lad raised great pain-filled blue eyes to hers and nodded miserably. She nodded. "A woman? Money? Family? Embarrassing complications wi' livestock?" She picked up her tankard and raised it in a mock salute. "Well here's t' getting' shat on by th' world," she toasted, knocking her tankard to his with an impact that nearly broke  his wrist. She drained the vessel and then sat back contentedly, her cloak falling aside and revealing...nothing.  Or rather, a space where her right arm should be.

[Mixxi]

The blue eyes widened in surprise and forgot to be sorrowful for a moment. The Norn followed the curious gaze and leaned toward the boy, reaching across to touch the loose short sleeve of her tunic. "Icebrood did that. Bit it off." The young man blanched. Sigla shook her head. "Don't worry. It didn't hurt. Never did." Hoisting the pitcher, she poured a frothy stream into her tankard. "But it ended me, just like ye think yer ended." She leaned forward, her eyes holding the blue, shocked gaze of the young man. "I was Wolfborn, y' know. Chosen by Skarti himself. Protectin' Hoelbrak wi' axe an' shield. But a wolf wi' three legs cannot run wi' th' pack." She gestured to the young man to drink, and he brought the tankard to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers.

"What did you do?" he asked breathlessly.

"I went into the storm. Laid down in  th' snow and waited fer th' last sleep t' take me."

The young man nodded in tragic sympathy and said earnestly, "I know how you felt. I, too, sometimes think I cannot bear to go on."

The Asura made a strangled noise as he ratcheted a bolt into place. Sigla kicked the bench leg and Blixx had to dive to prevent a crystal vial from falling onto the stone floor.

"Well, th' Spirits of the Wild weren't going t' let me off that easy, y' see," Sigla continued. "Next thing I know, Raven is tryin' t' peck my eye out." She grinned at the Asura. "Well, not Raven, but a raven. His raven. An' this raven, when I go to hit it away, it doesn't fly away. It just hops back an' looks at me. An' then this terrible monster with great hairy ears rises up behind th' raven an' it says..."

"Hurry up and die so my bird can have breakfast." The Asura looked at the young man's shocked expression, enjoying the moment. "But she didn't. Blasted Norn never do what they're told." Evidently his work was finished, because the ancient-looking Asura began packing away his tools into a complex array of pouches and pockets. "So I introduced the ridiculous she-giant to my friend Sootwing. They had a lot in common, since the raven only had one working wing and she, as you can see, is similarly afflicted. The raven, though, didn't stupidly lie down in the snow. The raven, being an intelligent being, found the camp of a traveler, and bartered a ring it had...acquired...for food."

The Norn woman, instead of being annoyed by the Asura's words, looked fondly at him. "I should have known that the Spirits would not leave me alone. Raven is clever. If I could not be Wolfborn, I should have looked to th' other Spirits for my path. Raven showed me th' way."

The Asura snorted. "Raven and me. Or, more correctly, just me." The now-cleared bench held only one object now, a complex construct of brass cogs, pistons, and jointed segments nearly as long as the Asura was tall. Blixx reached into an inner pocket and produced a blue gem which he socketed into the top of the mechanism. Blue lines of force flared to life in a glowing network within the construct. Blixx stepped back to admire the shining thing. "Ah. Such a work of genius leaves me quite speechless."

"A miracle indeed," Sigla agreed solemnly and reached her left hand toward the Asura. Using two hands to heft the arm, for such it was, he passed it to the woman, who deftly fastened it into place within the empty sleeve. She flexed the metal fingers and then pulled on a soft glove. "Good as new, old friend. Thank-you."

The Asura wagged a finger at her. "Take better care of it next time! Even works of genius will not survive being blown up repeatedly."

The Norn woman actually looked abashed. "I shall be more careful with my grenades next time." She stood and then bent to put her right hand on the young man's shoulder. He was surprised that he felt warmth and not the cold touch of metal through his tunic. "I know you small folk don't hear th' voice of Raven, but maybe you'll hear mine. Endings can be beginnings if y' look at 'em the right way round." She turned to follow Blixx toward the tavern doorway, scooping up the Asura's enormous pack as she went.

In the doorway, the two companions paused, and the Asura muttered grudgingly, "What you did there was a good thing."

The Norn watched the young man still sitting at the table but now looking with interest at Jorry's very pretty barmaid. "What I did there," she said, "Was get a free pitcher of ale." And the two walked out into the sunlight of Lion's Arch.