Welcome back to CoT Translations!
This week, we’ll look at a few random items I’ve found or some guildies sent me while exploring Tyria.
We’ll start with a particular underwater weapon that you might want to be cautious while you’re wielding it.
A letter from the Artist: Thank you everyone for your support and interest in the NGTE webcomic. It pains me but I am leaving NGTE. I put a lot of work into creating this …
The oasis seemed fairly quiet at night. The buzzing of sparkflies and the snapping of the firewood seemed had more than a calming effect. Sylvari guarded the entrance to the area, as Angel said they …
Hello, Tyrians! To celebrate the second anniversary of Guild Wars 2, the upcoming feature pack, as well as the anniversary of CoT’s creation, we are launching a brand new writing contest. The contest winner will …
I hadn’t seen Zurra in weeks, but there she was, as brazen as ever. Zurra, whose experiments for the Inquest had caused untold destruction. Zurra, who had killed my master and wanted nothing better than to see me dead.
Well, the feeling was certainly mutual.
Which put me in something of a tricky situation. Weir, Blaise and I still had our backs to one wall of the canyon, and Zurra was beside the other; between us were somewhere in the region of two hundred centaurs, their shaman, and the elemental he was in the process of summoning.
No matter how eager I was to reach Zurra, that elemental was starting to draw my attention. I hadn’t paid much heed to the shaman’s summoning – though Caolinn, who we’d left further up the cliff-face, had certainly been affected by it – but now I didn’t really have a choice. The very ground was shaking, the air thrumming with power, and thrusting their way out of the rock beneath the shaman’s feet were a pair of colossal hands.
It would be true to say that, for all my esoteric knowledge, elementals weren’t my speciality. In fact, I’d never seen anything like it.
I had forgotten how irritating Itan’s voice was, and I had also forgotten how easily I could ignore it. Once I had recovered from my injuries, I received an unusual sight once I had returned to my warband. Quite a few of them had actually seemed happy to see me, going as far as to asking how I was feeling and if I was ready to cut down some more Flame Legion. I was surprised enough as it is with all the questions, I was uncertain as to how to answer. Luckily Garfas appeared at the right moment and answered most of them for me. Everything appeared to be going back to normal until Itan showed up. He seemed especially upset today, and I was the easiest target in sight.
Welcome back to CoT Translations!
This week, we are going back and revisiting the Bazaar of the Four Winds, the Festival of the Four Winds as well as some banner hung up during the Cutthroat Politics patches.
Lets start off with a member of the favorite minor race in Tyria. This little guy performed a magic for us during all of those patches.
To say that the asura were still skeptic of me would be quite the understatement. Even so, they provided me with some new clothes, for which I was grateful. Sure, the clothes I bought from the sylvari were good enough for this hot and humid climate, but the way they were woven and the fabrics they used made them uncomfortable to wear.
In contrast, these asuran-made robes were much looser. Crafted from woven linen and studded leather, they provided all the protection I desired without hampering my movement. As opposed to charr clothes—which were generally dull and monotone—these were leaf green with white, intricate geometrical patterns woven into them.
“Whatcha doing?” a high, yet pleasant voice piped behind me.
“Trying to get this furnace to heat up,” I replied whilst giving the bellows a whack.
The night was cool and silent, the dew of early autumn coating the grass in a filigree of glimmering drops and silver spiderwebs. A bright moon was peeking through a tattered veil of clouds, casting flickering shadows across the uneven ground. Shadows through which we crept, single-file, following Blaise’s lead.
In any other situation, I might have questioned the wisdom of letting Blaise lead in anything, but it was clear he was a skilled scout and tracker as well as a ranger; besides, this was territory he knew, had hunted in and patrolled long before he split from the Seraph.
I pulled a sour expression at that last thought. ‘Split from the Seraph’ was one way of putting it – ‘betrayed to their deaths in the name of profit’ was another. I didn’t have a lot of sympathy for Blaise’s predicament, or his desire to prove himself worthy again, not when all his troubles were ones he’d brought down on his own head. Still, Spark seemed determined to give him a chance, and I couldn’t really blame her for that.
Each of us were finally in our ideal positions when Ragnvaldr gave the command to attack the marsh drakes surrounding our wagon. Angel rolled out of her seat where Tobih jumped over only a second later, both of them brandishing their weapons. Ragnvaldr knelt down on one knee and aimed for a group of three while I turned around and focused on the enemies behind us. Flames burst around a single drake and one next to it gained a face full of burning embers that flew off the crackling flames. In the few seconds the fire had to live, I was already focusing on turning the ground beneath the two of them into lava.
I saw a bright line of light on my side next to Tobih. It acted as if it were a wall to a drake that was trying to pass through as he was taking on another drake on his other side.
Seeing that the wall wouldn’t last forever, I drew my arm back, pulling fire from the flame of the staff and throwing that towards the drake, who recoiled from the singeing flames.
Ragnvaldr was working behind me, barraging the group of three with numerous arrows. As one endured the hail of arrows and moved towards the cart, he steadied himself and drew a single arrow, inhaled, concentrated, adjusted, then let the arrow fly. The resulting shot caused the drake to tumble backwards a few feet.