As a warning, if you have not faced Scarlet Briar and finished the Living Story, this post will contain spoilers.
By the spirits, we did it! An entire army of heroes banded together (and praise Wolf for that), fought their way into the center of Scarlet’s evil plan… then we did it. It was cold and empty in that room, perhaps much like that salad-faced witch’s mind. Yet I was fortunate enough to be able to bring my war buddy, Tiny Hero (some call her Ameera Rayne, but I figure that’s just an insult to someone of her caliber). The entire base shook as Scarlet threw grenades at us and attempted to push us back, but to no avail. It was too late. My legend would not be cut short by some villainous Sylvari who was a a few leaves short of an appetizer. Of course, that didn’t stop me. Nothing could stop me. Nothing will stop me from defending the people I love.
I thought we had finished. Tyria was saved, the darkness had been lifted, and the world could begin joining together once again to rebuild what had been taken from us–I was wrong.
She did something. This… this drill… it did something. There was a flash; a bang; an explosion of light that blasted through the ground and followed these strange lines of magic that run through Tyria (or so the Durmand Priory tell me). It was followed by a brief, chilling silence, and was met by a piercing roar that resonated through the world.
We had not finished our war. No, Tyria is going to change from whatever made that nightmarish sound. I would never admit this to anyone (especially the Tiny Hero), but part of me fears that we may not be strong enough to beat what is yet to come…
Oh who am I kidding? We will rage war; we will face our fears; we killed an Elder Dragon, and we will kill anything else that tries to kill us. I am strong. I am mighty. I am Asmund Leifsting, slayer of dragons and Hero of Lion’s Arch. I am the Guardian of Tyria. I am the explorer of magics long forgotten.
I am… The Traveller of Tyria.