The Duty of Grim Mortbane

The Duty of Grim Mortbane

by D.M. Miller

The calling woke him again that night. It was the same kind, as if a whisper upon the wind, that tantalized his ears and brain into recognition. The voice was faint but distinguishable nonetheless. No effort of sleep could press out the calling that racked his brain for nights on end.
Sliding out of his small bungalow, Grim Mortbane, Dervish of the Elonian lands, crept through the inky night air, beneath the wary moon overhead. The bright orb, watched the silent killer with a great intensity that of which would rival the Gods.
Grim glanced out across the barren earth of his homeland, over to the luxurious desert city of Kamadan. The piercing eagle-like vision of Grim helped him perceive the presence of Koss, standing still and foreboding like an ever-guarding gargoyle. Kamadan was now under his care, he would not let anything happen to the Jewel of Istan.
The struggle against evil and tyranny had aged many of Elona’s warriors in many ways. Grim had been aged and grueled down as well. The silent scar laid heavy upon his heart as he was constantly reminded of the ghosts of his past.
The calling once again crept upon the ear canal of the silent Dervish. A fleeting thought came to his mind, could this be the Master of Whispers whom called to him? Grim quickly pushed this theory aside, realizing the Master of Whispers would have gotten his attention by different means. He had heard people speak of the Master of Whisper’s strange fate. That the man surrounded in mystery had been seen passing through the Sulfurous Wastelands of The Desolation. Some had even witnessed him transpiring through the southern reaches of the Crystal Desert, heading east, to the Gods no where.
A sudden sharp pain dropped Grim to his knees. There was a blinding vision shooting through his mind; it showed images across the clashing seas to the south, and farther west, where the Battle Isles lay. The Dervish hero, stood himself up from the sandy floor, dusting himself off as he regained composure. It seemed he had just had a vision, a vision of a quest of some sort. The calling was even stronger now, the whispers in his head were stinging.
This was not the first night of the calling. A fainter voice had led him forth, nights before. Though, he feared leaving his adopted Charr child in Vabbi, he knew this entity that pushed him forward spoke true. This was a quest that needed to be accomplished, and Grim knew he would regret  it for the rest of his life if he passed up this opportunity. Following his destined path, he had spent weeks traveling through Kourna and onto to Istan where he now found himself.
If these visions were playing out the next step on Grim’s journey, then he had no choice but to wield to them. The Battle Isles was where he was meant to go, and therefore he would travel there.
Early the next morning Grim spoke with Kormir at the Sunspear Docks to situate his travel to the Battle Isles. This time of the season was massively chaotic at the Isles for tournaments were waged constantly. The Zaishen Order tried to create order in this land of battle, but just as the guild wars had been unruly, the battles on the isles were as well.
After many a day of travel the large ships masts were finally lowered and the beautiful boat was anchored upon the coast. Grim could already feel the tension of battle and competition upon the air. Looking from the boats deck, he looked down upon the many arenas that held the battling teams. There was shouting and insulting on the main temple courtyard. Shouts of claimed amateurs competing, and wagers upon who would win in a fight were shrill upon the air. Other outlying islands, those owned by the Zaishen were much less unruly and were in a state of peace. The oriental pristine buildings and walkways shone with pride.
Grim was unsure as to where to go now, he had not received any visions or messages since that night in the desert of Istan. He decided to bide his time watching the tournaments until night fall, in which he found lodgings among the temple grounds.
That night he had an unrestful sleep that dragged his mind this way and that. A dream coursed it’s way through his mind like a ferocious snake, a dream that was most troubling. It was another vision of sorts, and also a warning message. The dream showed the lands of the world changing greatly. Elona and Cantha were pushed from his mind’s sight, and it was no longer apparent what fate lay ahead for these two great continents and their kingdoms.
Tyria became estranged and very different. It was as if Grim was staring upon an all new continent. Most of the humans resided in Divinity’s Reach of Kryta. A large governmental system watched over the dwindling human population and attempted to create some form of protection for its citizens. There was also a fear that trembled throughout the land. This fear was felt in the hearts of all races, not just human.
A new image was portrayed to Grim just before he awoke, screaming in fear of what he had seen. An elongated beastial head arose from beneath the earth. Its complete form was shrouded in shadow, but its gleaming red eyes shown bright enough to see upon who it glared. The beast was massive in size and dwarfed Grim significantly. The creature rose from the murky depths of the earth and walked upon the surface as Grim stood rock still, watching its destructive wake. Just as Grim thought he was safe from the colossal monster, it turned its gigantic head and glared down into Grim’s soul with those malicious red eyes.
The next day was spent in contemplation. Grim was certain that this dream was a new vision that was set forth for him. The problem was, the dream gave him no indication as to where he was to travel or even what he was meant to do. He decided to speak with the Zaishen Order, to see what insight they might provide in regards to his new vision.

“It is apparent that the vision in which you viewed has yet to come to pass. It may be many years before this event happens. However, there must be a reason that you obtained the knowledge of its fruition.”
This was the response to the many questions Grim had pronounced to the elders of the Zaishen Order.
“What reason would you think that would be?”
“Though the full reason is not entirely clear, it is our belief that you were given these visions of these future events so that you may help others.”
Grim was puzzled, he did not know how he was to help others in the event of massive destruction and even the potential end of the world.
“How am I supposed to help others?”
“You are meant to prepare the kingdoms of the world, Grim Mortbane. You must ready them for the end, so that they will not perish. This event you have foreseen may seem in farther years that are not of your concern, but we may be limited with our time of preparation.”
Grim still did not know what to do with this information. How was he to prepare the world for its demise? From the looks of the beast in his dream, none of the other races could stop this kind of aftermath.
“How am I supposed to prepare millions of beings for such a catastrophic event such as this?”
The Zaishen whispered among each other and seemed to be discussing the matter in great detail. They finally came upon an agreement, nodding at each other.
“You must speak to the wise one, in the Hall of Heroes. Travel forth from these isles, back across the seas to Tyria. Trudge through the Crystal Desert in which you have once been and find your way to the Tomb of the Primeval Kings. Once there you must fight your way through the depths of the Underworld until you reach the mighty Hall of Heroes, the hall in which the very Gods watch. When you are in the hall you will find your answer.”
Grim tried to ask more of this mysterious Hall of Heroes and in what way he could reach it, but the Zaishen no longer wished to speak of the matter. They retired to their monastery, leaving Grim alone with his thoughts.

The next three months were long and lonely. The travel by boat across the sea, to the Crystal Desert produced no new insight into Grim’s newfound mission. The thought of transpiring upon the plains of the Crystal Desert filled his heart with dread. His last experience in the Crystal Desert had been one of great challenges. It was only with his last bit of energy that him and his team of heroes were able to ascend in their ranks and gain the blessings of the gods of Tyria. It had, however, been an important mission, for without ascension they would not have been able to kill the Lich Lord and his army of deadly Titans.
When the ship had finally arrived at its destination, Grim was filled with doubt in regards to his mission. He feared he would die and lie upon the desert floor for eternity, never completing the task set forth for him. The doubt weighed heavy on his heart and created tension with the other heroes he had picked up in a nearby outpost.
Upon the verge of giving up, a translucent entity appeared before Grim and spoke to him. It was the Ghostly Hero, the champion of long ago in which Grim had helped in past adventures.
“Do not wary and do not give up, Dervish hero. The world is in need of you. Follow me through the deserts and I shall lead you to the Tomb you seek.”
Though the others of the party did not believe this strange visage would lead them forth, Grim’s belief did not waver. Following the steps in which the long dead warrior led, Grim found himself amazed at the quick passage through the once maze-like desert. It appeared that the Ghostly Hero had transpired among the landscape and creatures of the desert so long that it appeared that he was able to manipulate the very essence of those barren lands. Within only a few short days Grim found himself at the Tomb of the Primeval Kings. He was, however, alone once again. The fellow adventurers he had picked up earlier on did not have the same faith that Grim had so strongly felt within himself. As Grim gave his thanks, the Ghostly Hero bowed low and left this plain of reality, and moved onto the next.
Grim stood at the mouth of the Tomb. A shiver of immense fear coursed its way through his spine as he stared up at the agonized spirits that climbed in and out of the passage to the Tomb. The image would make even a Necromancer’s skin crawl. Twisting tentacles of demonic rage tried to force their ways out of the Tomb, turning to stone as their life-force was unable to survive outside of the Underworld.
With great trepidation Grim stepped upon the stoneware incline, walking past the guarding Zaishen heroes and stepped through the dark foreboding portal to the Underworld. It was a strange travel that Grim befell. A dark substance like the ink of a giant octopus surrounded him and suffocated the light from his vision. In the chaos and enclosing twilight, he lost conscious.
When he came to, Grim found his surroundings to be very confusing. The sky above was no longer the same sky he had looked upon not too long ago. It was instead smaugy, and evil. It was as if the blackened souls of the damned flew in and out of the dusty cloud covering. Disturbed and angry graspers trudged the paths of the wicked. Bridge and skyscrapers of bone protruded from the blood-stained ground like groping hands reaching out from their graves.
Grim had no other option, he knew the duty he had to fulfill. Stepping forth, he prepared for battle. With a swirling of his scythe and the skills of a true hero, his ferocity knew no bounds. The hellish creatures crumbled to his feet as he fought his way through the land of the damned. Reaching the end of the Underworld’s plains was no easy feat, but Grim managed and as he stretched forth his hand into the portal of the next land, he watched the dryders reanimate themselves, and force their tendril-like limbs at him.
Narrowly escaping the grasps of the impudent creatures, Grim awoke to find himself now in the land known as the Scarred Earth. As he traveled forth a large wurm wrestled its way from beneath the ground, barring the path forward from Grim.
The Dervish hero, battle-weary but able nonetheless buried his scythe blade into the wurm’s thick hyde again and again. The gashes were deep in its skin and soon there was dark oozing blood flowing down its sides. As the wurm collapsed in a heap of death, Grim ran over its lifeless body and passed onto the Courtyard.
This magnificent landscape was constructed by the very gods that were so worshipped. In glowing glory, angelic statues guarded the golden pathways that led up to the magnificent Hall that lay in the distance. Grim received very little resistance as he pressed forward and onward up the gilded stairs to the Hall.
At last, Grim entered the holy ground of the Hall of Heroes. He half-expected to be approached by the human or creature that held all the answers for him. This did not happen. He was, however, approached by a being, not one he had expected, though. Grim had heard of this vile being before. It was known as The Darkness. A king among demons, this mesmer being lived of death and stank of it as well. Grim knew this would not be an easy battle.
Gauging and slashing his way through the creature, the strange entity of darkness began to slowly weaken. The Darkness launched a blast of Energy Surge at Grim, knocking the hero to the ground. Quickly regaining his stance, Grim jumped into the air, swirling in circles as he did so. The powerful scythe he weld was held outright as he spun like a leaf upon the wind. The tantalizing blade reflected the gleaming lights of the halls off of its surface like a many faceted jewel. Slicing into the throat of the demon boss, The Darkness began to gurgle out sharp, angry hisses at the attacking hero. Only a few more slashes were needed to complete the job. The Darkness’ head toppled from its body and hit the glittering floor. All at once this damned creature disintegrated into dust and was blown off in a gathering breeze.
Grim knelt to the floor in exhaustion. He could no longer take any more challenges. He would have liked very much to just lie down and die, to rest with his descendants, perhaps even see his father, Argus in the Underworld, if that was where he now resided. Grim’s fatigue overtook him and he fell into a deep sleep.

A beautiful song awoke him many hours later. Grim knew not what was making the noise, but it reminded him of the harp music of the centaurs in the days of their friendship, before they became hostile. Slowly opening his eyes, Grim came to the realization that he heard the tantalizing warble of a Rainbow Phoenix, a magnificent bird of legend. The divine creature stared down upon the fallen hero. This bird was very large and dwarfed even the dervish.
Grim suddenly realized that him and the bird were not alone. An old gnarled hand gently ruffled the feathers of the god-like animal. The great healer, learned in the ways of the world, new and old, smiled down upon Grim. It was Mhenlo, a monk legend of many years.
“You have done well Grim. I thank you for your travels to see me.”
Mhenlo had been lost for many years after the wars with evil. There were rumors and theories as to his disappearance, but no one knew for sure where he had gone to. It seemed he had taken part in a greater destiny.
“Mhenlo…it has been a long time. I am…I am grateful to see you again. I come to you for I seek an answer to a pressing question.”
Mhenlo nodded with understanding, “You wish to know the meaning of your visions.”
Grim was in awe at Mhenlo’s knowledge. This monk knew what was needed to be done.
“Mhenlo, please, tell me what I am to do!”
Mhenlo stroked the head of the Rainbow Phoenix. The bird cooed softly to the monk.
“This bird is a magnificent creature. This phoenix in particular has dwelled in this Hall for thousands of years. It will take flight and show you what it is you must do to prepare all for the coming of the destruction. In 250 years many will be grateful for your knowledge.”
Mhenlo turned his back on Grim, whom still lay on the floor. Walking forward into a gathering bright light, Mhenlo was enclosed in its radiance and then was gone.
Grim picked himself up from the floor. It seemed that he was close to the end of his adventure, though, he still did not know exactly what it was that he must do. Climbing onto the back of the magnificent bird, he held on tightly. Flapping its majestic wings, the phoenix took flight and soared above the Hall of Heroes,heading north.
As the traveling pair flew overhead the cities and regions of Tyria, Grim watched the unfolding landscape beneath him. The Southern Shiverpeaks stared coldly at his feet, and the Stone Summit stopped their mining and troll torturing to look up into the night’s sky. Shaking their fists angrily at the unknown travelers they watched as Grim and the Phoenix passed out of sight. The flames and bubbling gorges of lava met the travelers next as they passed over Sorrow’s Furnace and onward to the Northern Shiverpeaks where deldrimor herders could be seen tending to their yaks. The majestic bird did not stop its journey here, however, and continued ever more north to the Far Shiverpeaks. The Norn warriors roared fiercely in greeting at the wake of the Dervish hero. As the Rainbow Phoenix began to slow and descend, it dawned upon Grim where their final destination was: The Eye of the North.
The bird did not stop at the front entrance, however. It swooped through the air and dove down into one of the unfurling chimneys. Grim was fearful at first but soon realized that the bird had traversed this maze of tunnels before. They were within a system of piping structures. Grim felt as if his head were going to be struck on one of the overhanging mechanisms, but the phoenix knew how to dodge well with passenger in tow. At the end of the tunnels a descent appeared and the phoenix dropped downward, like a rock that just caught a hold of gravity. Grim gripped the bird tightly as it dove towards floor.
Landing with expert agility, the bird perched daintily on the marble flooring. They were in the Hall of Monuments, a mystical hall of the Eye of the North. After Grim had dismounted, the phoenix lightly walked forward down the stairs of the Hall. Stepping just in front of the Scrying Pool, it bowed dutifully. It was apparent the pool would declare to Grim what he was to do next. Stepping up to the edge of the crystal clear water, Grim knelt down and stared into its depths. A bright light blurred Grim’s vision. This quickly cleared and reveal Grim’s new location. He was standing next to Glint, the dragon of prophecy.
She spoke to him in a gravely saddened voice, “Grim, I am afraid humans shall not flourish long in these lands. My brethren, the dragons, are not kind and forgiving as I am. They are evil and foul and plan to ruin this land and all races living in it. There is but a couple hundred years to prepare, and prepare you must. You must join the heroes that still live together. Bring them to this place, to this Hall of Monuments so that they may record their adventures so that they will remember how to battle as heroes. In doing so your race may yet still have a chance for survival when the destruction comes. This is your task brave Grim Mortbane. It will not be an easy task, joining so many heroes together at a time like this will be a difficult challenge, indeed, but I have faith you can do it. Do you accept this duty that has been placed upon you, great Dervish?”
Grim knelt at the feet of the wise dragon.
“I do accept your challenge great Glint. I shall unite the heroes of all the lands so that we shall meet this destruction head on, and be ready for it.”
After Glint had disappeared from Grim’s mind, the dervish hero turned from the pool and left the Hall of Monuments. He set out to complete his task so that all may be prepared for the second coming of the world, so that all will be ready for Guild Wars 2.