Tyrian Ghost Walk 2010

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The Tyrian Ghost Walk

The Tyrian ghost walk was based around the idea of a real life ghost walk. In real life, ghost walks usually take place in historic sites or representations of historic sites, and groups of people are guided to different locations where stories about the ghosts at those locations are told. Usually the stories are told with period character acting ( in some cases with actors actually portraying the ghosts) and the stories themselves tell of how the ghost died, how the ghost manifests itself – makes its presence known – and other interesting facts about the ghost.

Details of Event

Tours were be held on the 28th, the 29th, and the 30th of October 2010. There will were five stories told on the 28th, and 4 stories told on the 29th and 20th. There were three tours for each day, as per the schedule below.


All of the tours will meet in the International District 1 of the starting town, LA and ToA locations will go to the highest numbered International District

WxTINb AKAIK you've got the awsner in one!

Date: 29th of October

Locations: Starting at The Great Northern wall, then to Sardelac Sanitarium, Gunnars hold and then Lahtenda Bog

  • Tour 1
    • Time: 11:30pm PST| 2:30pm USEST | 7:30pm UKT|8:30pm CET| 5:30am AUSEST(29th)
    • Guide: Kaden Astrid
  • Tour 2
    • Time: 3:30pm PST| 6:30pm USEST| 11:30pm UKT| 12:30am CET| 9:30am AUSEST(29th)
    • Guide: Countess Reapera
  • Tour 3
    • Time: 6:30pm PST| 9:30pm USEST| 2:30pm UKT| 3:30am CET| 12:30pm AUSEST(29th)
    • Guide: Countess Reapera

Date: 30th of October

Locations: Starting at Grendich Courthouse, then to Temple of Ages, Quarrel Falls, and Lions Arch

  • Tour 1
    • Time: 11:30pm PST| 2:30pm USEST | 7:30pm UKT|8:30pm CET| 5:30am AUSEST(29th)
    • Guide: Mathew Browne
  • Tour 2
    • Time: 3:30pm PST| 6:30pm USEST| 11:30pm UKT| 12:30am CET| 9:30am AUSEST(29th)
    • Guide: General Lacross
  • Tour 3
    • Time: 6:30pm PST| 9:30pm USEST| 2:30pm UKT| 3:30am CET| 12:30pm AUSEST(29th)
    • Guide: Countess Reapera

Calling All Staff!

The Tyrian Ghost walk was a new and unique undertaking in the history of Guild Wars events, and we needed some volunteers to help us out. The volunteers were guides, people who traveled with the participants and told the stories via in-game chat. We were looking for Tour guides that would be available during the times listed above, even if it is for only one call (though, of course, ideally being able to be a guide for multiple walks would be great.) While many people volunteered, positions were given out on a first com, first serve basis.

Tyrian Ghost Walk Story Contest (Ended - thank you for your great submissions!)

As part of the festivities we shall seek out the creative support of the community for short story submissions. Requirements are as follows:

At most a 500 word story based on a real or fake Tyrian ghost story. The story must be written with an in-game setting with appropriate flourish, and describe the circumstances of the ghost's death and creation, and how the ghost makes its presence known. These stories must also be tied to a location that a group can be taken to in the game world, so the atmosphere of the in-game setting should be appropriate (i.e. not happy sunny places for a dark and creepy ghost story).

Remember that these are supposed to be stories about ‘real’ people encountering ‘real’ ghosts, these are not just ghost stories, they are ‘factual’ accounts from an in-game perspective. Think about the accounts you hear of ghosts at your local hotels or old hospitals, accounts in the real world of real hauntings, instead of just fictional ghost stories.

Here’s a short example story:

(This story is based on the location right below the tower in Ascalon city, slightly South West of the bonfire and Symon the Scribe).

Over 100 years ago, before the first guild wars erupted, Ascalon was much as it was just before the Searing. This city stood abreast the great wall and the security of the nation was safeguarded by the king and his sons. His youngest son, however, was what we might call… motivated. With no hope of ascending to the throne past his elder brothers, he decided to take matters into his own hands on the night of the king's death. As the moon rose high above the ramparts of the city, and the heavens wept, and the roll of thunder filled the night, he stole himself into the royal apartments where the eldest son, the newly crowned king, was resting after the coronation ceremony. The new king awoke screaming to find a dagger rooted in his heart, alerting the guards to the horrifying sight.
Some say that the youngest son wept after realizing what he had done and cast himself to his fate, others say that in a mad dash to escape the guards he lost his footing. On this very spot, the young prince fell to his death from the royal apartments above.
But his story does not end there. He makes his presence known with cold winds through still passage ways and apparitions that disappear upon a double take. Some of the nobles, when gazing out at the commanding view from the ramparts of the tower, report a gentle nudge at their back as if to send them over the edge. One of the most frightening stories was from a young noble spending the night in the murdered king's chambers with his new wife. He awoke to the frightening spectre of the villainous prince hovering over him, and the handle of a bloody knife protruding from his chest. Since then no one has been brave enough to spend a night in the chambers.

Technical Details

The organizers of the Tyrian Ghost walk will review all submissions and pick the best works for the inclusion in the Tyrian Ghost Walk. Submissions must be received by the closing date of this contest, October 1st. Participants may enter as often as they want to. The organizers of this event reserve the right to edit stories as needed for grammar, to fit the mechanics of the event, and also to suit the atmosphere of the event.

Prizes for an accepted story will include a prominent feature in the actual event itself, as guides lavish these ghostly tales upon the tour groups. Audio books as well as the text of these stories will be made available after the event and we are organizing a custom soundtrack to go along with each story. In game prizes are also provided!

The Short Story contest has ended, thank you for your submissions!

The Ghost Walk Stories

October 28th Story Set

  • "Serenity Ghost"
  • By Robert “Inzzy” Szøke
  • Location: Serenity Temple
The war between the Humans and Charr has left both sides with more casualties than they had thought possible. But even after the Searing they continue to wage war, a war that will see an end to a race unless something significant happens. Stories have been passed down through generations through this conflict, stories about horror, death and resurrection, none more famous than the Serenity Ghost however.
A young monk by the name of Agnus Bromley was given the task of cataloging parchments at the Serenity Temple on the fateful day of the Searing. As Bromley was finishing up his task for the day he heard an unusual sound coming from outside the temple, when he reached the monastery garden located right outside the library, he could hardly believe his eyes. The sky had turned from a bright blue to colors that you would find at bottom of a Grawl stew, clouds were moving fast in a Northern direction and lightning danced across the sky. The land that once was filled with sounds of all kinds of animals was now as quiet as the Crystal Desert with only the thunder to break the silence, and with each roll Bromley would flinch.
As Bromley stood there he suddenly noticed something coming out from between the clouds, at first he could not see what it was. The object was pushing the clouds down towards the earth as if it wasn’t ready to show it’s true form yet, though it soon broke through the cloud cover as it hurtled toward the ground. Bromley could hardly believe his eyes, a giant piece of jagged crystal. Even though the clouds had engulfed the sun the crystal sparkled as it was coming closer to the ground. Then a bright light lit up the area and Bromley was thrown across the garden and back into the library.
Story tells about journeymen still seeing Bromley during nights when the clouds have covered the light of the moon walking around the ruins of Serenity Temple. It is said that he is looking for a parchment that will tell him about the magic that was cast on that day and thus giving him piece of knowing what took him away from his life.

  • "Haunted Tyria"
  • By Katherine the Blood
  • Location: Icetooth Cave
As many of you know who have trekked this icy tundra, the Shiverpeaks are dangerous to merchants and heroes alike. Therefore it is not surprising that a few ghost legends have spawned from this area. The most interesting of these involves a family from Ascalon; a mother, father, and three young boys. They were making the trip to search for a new life in Kryta, why they did this is lost to history. What is known is that as they were approaching the midpoint in the Shiverpeaks, their wagon lost sight of the rest of the caravan and ended up crashing one of the wheels against a rock. The parents, eager to find help, left their children at the wagon so they could travel faster. The parents did eventually find help, but by the time they came back to the wagon, their precious children had frozen in the cold.
To this day, you can hear the voices of little boys calling out to their parents. On even rarer occasions, merchants have picked up small boys that appeared asking for their mother and father. By the time the children are taken to Beacon’s Perch, they have disappeared as though they were never there.

  • "Always travel lightly"
  • Author: Macen Krace
  • Location: Temple Of The Ages
One should always be careful with ones gold, loot or… other valuable commodities they carry around with them, for you never when it might be swallowed by the depths of the swamp, especially if that traveler dares go through the Cursed Lands of Kryta. Should that road be the one from Bergen Hot Spring to the Temple of the Ages, it would be advised to either avoid it or just hire some good help as that is always cheaper, and faster than going through Beetletun.
Some also considered this to a trial, of courage or faith, as reaching the most sacred place on all of Tyria won’t be taken lightly by the Gods, especially Balthazar and Grenth. Many people thought so, or at least they did about a century ago, before the guild wars. People from all over Tyria would travel all the way to the Temple of the Ages just to give their offerings to the Gods and pray.
For adventurers this was a booming business, as the rich would never put a price of the favor of the Gods, nor on their safety as they hired adventurers to safeguard their lives and possessions. Some might say the adventurers were a blessing… and some would just want to hang them high with a rope for leaving them in the middle of the swamp filled with monsters and no supplies.
Such is the story of a group of thieves who started to make a living for themselves by disguising themselves as monks and guiding others to their doom, by leaving them to rot, or be consumed by the denizens in the Cursed Lands. Surprisingly this trick went well for a while, until they got hired to guard a shipment from Ascalon emblazoned with the royal seal. Guided by greed they accepted it and went on to the Temple of the Ages. On the third night, the cargo ‘disappeared’ in the swamp, so the entire group went back to the outpost, disappointed, but the thieves, they went back to dig the cargo out of the swamp.
They dug for days and nights, one of them even drowned in the quicksand and another died of exhaustion, but the cargo was nowhere to be found. Then they started turning on each other. They fought and killed each other, but the ruckus attracted the swamp’s wildlife. The few survivors didn’t last long, but their greed did as they returned back as spirits in the search of their treasure.
For those very rich people, those heavily loaded, or just those with very important items on them who dare travel around though that region are likely to find their pockets or backpacks lighter and for some, their items… misplaced.

  • "The Servants District"
  • Author: Countess Reapera
  • Location: Dragon’s Throat
This location is deep in the bowels of the super city of Kaineng Center. Just slightly to the North of us lies the main grounds of the sprawling imperial palace, though it is hard to imagine such a pristine and regal atmosphere being so close.
Nearly 80 years ago, however, this section was even more dank than it is now. The sewer lines you see around you were more plentiful, the air less pure, if you can believe it. Though it was also very similar to what it is today. Look around you at the timbers forming a sky, and the gas obscuring the distant view. In those times it was far more plentiful, and that is at the root of this story.
As is common in places like this where there is a confluence of waste, sewer gas is a concern. I see some of you covering your noses to ward off the smell, and you’ll notice we brought no open flame lamps with us. About 80 years ago, this entire section of the city erupted in a great fireball when a pocket of these gases was ignited by a small spark on brisk night such as this. Perhaps a lamp lit by a lowly traveler, or some worker of the depths doing his rounds, we’ll never know. Worse still, the timbers took light as well, and caused even more widespread damage through this district. Hundreds of people perished in an instant as the fireball erupted, and the city collapsed into a burning morass as the fire blazed out of control, falling into the depths like that behind me and taking countless victims with it.
Above us are the quarters of many of the care takers of the palace, the lowly army of custodians and servants, and servants’ servants that keep the imperial family comfortable. Many of them speak of strange occurrences, such as ghostly apparitions wandering their halls and disappearing, leaving behind only whisps of foul smelling gas and soot, or of a feeling of being burned alive as they awake in the middle of the night. In other areas where the effects weren’t as immediately felt, there is a common sighting of a burning man that goes running through one of the old and well used thoroughfares above. His desperate screams fill the night as he runs away, waking families in the middle of the night and terrifying those that are out at such an hour.

  • "The Mine"
  • Author: Countess Reapera
  • Location: Droknars Forge (Told in front of the mine in the north east of the city)
As you can see behind me, Droknars Forge is not only home to the dwarves of Deldrimor but also to a rather significant mine. A rather exceptional deposit of iron resides in these mountains all around and below us . This is what has made Droknars Forge the great ironworks center that it is.
With mines come great danger, however. Many of us have had experiences with Dwarven powder kegs and accidents can happen, as was the case with this mine here. Just 30 years ago, this mine behind me was the site of a memorable explosion, where a powder keg stock was ignited accidentally. A horrendous explosion destroyed a mine shaft, instantly killing twelve dwarven miners. The ensuing cave-in rendered their remains inaccessible; they are still down there even now.
To this day however, this is still a working mine, as you can see from the cart going by. Outtake shafts traverse all through the ground and earth, cleansing the air. Some of the shafts that carry through that hallowed passage are still in use, and the miners here say that if you listen at the ducts that you can hear dwarven miners laughing and working even though that section is off limits and sealed. Rarely, the workers have even reported miners wearing older clothes, not of this age, that will simply be near the sealed section. But when they look back at them to marvel at their antiquated equipment, they are no longer there.

October 29th Story Set

  • Author: General Ra
  • Location: The Great Northern Wall (told up on the battlement)
The fall of the wall was something that no Ascalonian believed would happen. But due to dark magic wielded by the Charr, it did become reality. It would foretell a coming tide of blood and unending conflict.
Three years after the fall of the wall. After a failed raid by Adelbern upon a Charr encampment, he retreated with his Royal Guard and the remaining Ascalonian soldiers to the wall. Given the order to hold the Charr back while the wounded and the King escaped to safety, a young Sergeant Kryn agreed. Pooling his men he prepares to take a squad to reroute the enemy to buy time. But a loud boom draws his attention to the gate as it closes as the last of the royal guard enters. Left at the gates the wounded were laying helpless on the ground. Looking upon the battlements, he can see King Adelbern being led to safety by his Royal Guard. Cursing the cowardice of his people's king. Abandoned with his squad and the wounded, he charged the oncoming Charr.
Riddled with arrows and broken swords, Kryn watched as his kinsmen were slaughtered. Mustering his strength he stood his ground, and he vowed to avenge those who died due to their Kings cowardice. Overwhelmed he fell to to the Charr, but he took many of the Charr with him.
Fueled by vengeance, Kryn's spirit continues on. Stalking the gates of the Great Northern Wall, he is in a perpetual watch over the bones of his fallen comrades. Guards on the walls swear they can hear the word "coward" as it echoes from below. But rumor has it that on a clear enough night, one can see the spirit of Kryn as he watches over the spirits of his fallen comrades.

  • Author: CMEPTb
  • Location: Sardelac Sanitarium
Before the Searing, nestled in Lakeside County rested the peaceful and homely Ashford Village. The village was blessed not only with its lush beautiful farmlands and inviting cozy appeal, but by the protection of Ashford Abbey watching over them close by.
Within Ashford Village lived a small and cheerful little girl named Aven who was known to play with her friend Gwen. One day Aven wished to go out and pick white iris flowers to give to Gwen the following day. Aven’s mother Alison agreed, but told her to be back before dinner because of the wolves known to roam at night. Later in the evening as dinner grew cold and the brazen summer skies turned black with night’s pall, Aven had not come home.
Aven’s mother was frantic and enlisted the help of her neighbors, and those from Ashford Abbey as well, in a search outside. When no sign of Aven could be found, the party entered into the catacombs under Ashford Abbey. The search continued throughout the night until evidence was found in the early pure light of dawn of an iris bouquet stained red with blood. The mother cried and the rest of the group mourned with her, but no further evidence showed where Aven had gone to. When the tired villagers returned home from their long search, they were startled with fear. Every white iris flower in Ashford had turned red, as well as throughout the rest of the surrounding lands.
After the shocking disappearance many terror-filled accounts surfaced from those, who after picking a red iris flower, claim to have later seen Aven’s spirit from afar, standing, staring at them through hallowed eyes. The most shocking known account was from Gwen’s mother herself who recounted that her daughter had one day told her, “I love the red iris flowers! Aven said she made them just for me! Every time I pick one I know she will come out and play.”

  • "The Arena"
  • Author: Countess Reapera
  • Location: Gunnars Hold
Stout is a word many would use to describe the Norn, and their architecture certainly lives up to that description; you might be wondering why this wall is here. I’m sure we’ve all had great times in the arena, trading blows and being cheered on by our fellows as we’ve fought battles for glory and the pure fun of it. Some of you may have noticed, however, a little extra cheering coming from the crowd on this side of the arena. In our travels to compile these stories, we took the liberty of asking the Norn if they had any great stories about the spirits, and they obliged most kindly.
Many years ago, or so the storytellers here describe, there was a great battle fought here, a championship even greater than Magni’s. Norn from all over and travelers from all around came to fight, the prize was so great that few who heard of it could resist its call, either to participate for their chance at the pot, or just to see one of the greatest spectacles of the age.
There was such a gathering around this arena I’m sure that you can imagine the roaring of the crowd as the championship went on. However, on the day of the final championship, tragedy befell the ceremonies. It had been raining, and the snowmelt had been ebbing its way down for months beforehand. This entire section of the cliff face collapsed, sending many spectators right over the edge, and as you can see it’s quite deep down there. We heard many tales of the numbers, some as small as 100, some even greater than 1,000! But all can agree that it was a horrific event, and certainly no way for a proud warrior, Norn or otherwise, to be claimed by death. That is why this wall stands here, to keep such a thing from happening again.
During the greatest of fights it is said that you can hear a fair share of cheering from this section, even if there are few if any spectators on this side. Those spectators that do come here feel jostled, and are asked to make room or not block the view, but when they look back to see who is asking there is no one there. Occasionally, some Norn warriors have reported seeing a great crowd up here cheering at their fights during the climax of battle, and more than a few have lost because they performed a double take at just the wrong moment. It’s actually a common joke for participants of these arenas to blame ghosts for inexplicable losses.

  • "The Bog"
  • Author: Countess Reapera
  • Location: Blacktide Den
I’m sure that many of us have made the pilgrimage out to the old Sunspear crypts out in the swamps here. Most of us do so out of respect, some do it because it is required of them. Some go, however, for less savory reasons.
Many years ago, few really know, a group of four men set out. They were an unsavory type, even corsairs would have looked upon them in distaste. As anyone who has been in this area can attest, navigation is difficult at the best of times even with knowledge of the area. They spent three days wandering through brackish water and Skale infested swamp, but the finally made it. They spent another few days digging through the crypts, looking for treasure or loot that would allow them to retire in peace. The spirits in those crypts are active though, and they did not like their final rest to be disturbed in such a rude manner.
They played a tricks on these looters, the spirits. Moving tools, hiding food, small things that make one wonder. “Who moved my pick axe?” “Why is the rum gone?” Small questions and annoyances that four men already frustrated with days lost in the swamp for fruitless treasure hunting would multiply many times over. One of the men struck gold, literally – one of the old Sunspears apparently was what we might call a bit of a hoarder nowadays. The man who found it claimed it for his own, his fellows grew enraged at that however. Days spent in a godsforsaken swamp, and only one of them gets the reward? I’m sure we can all imagine how the other three felt about that!
That evening, the crew went to sleep, their argument dividing them. Awaking the next morning the gold was gone, and the claimer saw that the other three were still dozing. The temporary owner was distraught and assumed that one or all of the other three had stolen it. He killed them in their sleep, assuming he would be able to find where they had hidden his gold. The Sunspear ghosts, however, fed up with their unwelcome and murderous guest appeared in full force. He ran screaming into the depths of the swamp, assuming that his murdered crew members had come back to exact their revenge. No one ever heard from him again.
Well, except for those that journey to the crypts. This is a ghost story that, ironically enough, comes from one of the Sunspear ghosts. They say, with a bit of a chuckle might I add, that they can still occasionally hear him howling in fright in the swamp as he runs away. And travelers to the crypts who have been brave enough to spend the night have awoken in a cold sweat, surrounded by three other men sleeping next to them, but all have the vacant look of death about them and slit throats. All The Sunspear ghosts say, about these men, however, is that they don’t make for very good conversation because they cannot speak without gurgling.

October 30th Story Set

  • By : Grey Feathers
  • Location: Grendich Courthouse
So you’re interested in how the abominations came to be within Dragon’s Gullet are you now? Gather around and I’ll tell you a tale not many know. Those ruins in that area once belonged to a powerful Duke, obsessed with power and trying to increase his holdings beyond the inhospitable area which he ruled. The tar from the pits were once a commodity for trade and it brought the duke money and a decent life for him and for the townsfolk that worked for him. He was never as rich as the other nobles though, and he was always jealous and lusted for more. This outlaying area was one of the first areas that were over run when the Charr invaded Ascalon.
When the Charr attacked the duke was slain in his tower but not before cursing his soldiers and the town’s folk for failing to defend his lands. The duke had dabbled in necromancy in secret and had thought to use that power against the other nobles when he was ready. He unleashed a powerful curse at the exact moment his soul was to be ripped away the mortal realm and taken to the Mists. His spirit however became cursed as well that fateful day, and was tied to the same fate that he brought upon his men and the town’s folk who now roam the area as the abominations you see wandering the tar pits.
The duke’s ghost can be seen at Halloween when the Mad King returns and enables others trapped between here and the Mists to return. It is said that the duke can be seen being torn apart and slain over and over again by Charr as they attack his tower at the stroke of midnight, each night. It is said that Grenth himself forces the duke to relive his death each year at the appointed hour for cursing his people and for his greed. The duke roams the area at night in the hours before midnight, cursing others to share his fate and roam the tar pits forever. During the day a special place between the Mists and the mortal realm has been reserved for him to await and relive his death over and over again each night, never to know peace. If you explore the region you’ll spy a light shines through an unbroken window among the ruins. Many say that it is a sign from Dwayna herself that the curse itself could be broken, although none know how or have ever been brave enough to try.

  • Author: Megan Teotha
  • Location: Temple Of Ages
In the Black Curtain a grave marker can be found near a damaged bridge located a short distance east of Sir Robert’s station. The engraving on the stone is worn, but the image of a lynx and the name, Cheira, can still be discerned.
During the age of Saul D’Allessio, the bogs in the Black Curtain were impassable. Paths through the mire amounted to narrow sections of solid ground connected by bridges. The wrecked bridge next to the grave marker was one of these critical structures.
D’Allessio used rangers to patrol along these paths looking for any signs of Charr invaders. Cheira, accompanied by her lynx, Fedilis, was one of these scouts. One fateful day, Cheira was ambushed by a small band of Charr. Realizing she could not out-run the Charr, she managed to reach this bridge. With grim determination, she then turned to fight. Cheira and Fidelis valiant efforts prevented the Charr from crossing, but at a cost. During the battle the bridge collapsed. Cheira and Fidelis fell into the bog.
The Charr departed, when they saw the destroyed bridge now blocked their passage. But, before they left, a vengeful Charr ranger targeted Cheira, immobilized in the muck. An arrow pierced through her armor, a mortal wound. Fidelis managed to reach solid ground. The cat moved as close to Cheira as he could get. Carefully, Fidelis managed to grasp her cape with his powerful jaws. Struggling, he towed Cheira’s body to the bog’s bank, but could do nothing to mend her wounds. Days later, a White Mantle patrol came across the pair. Fidelis was near death from wounds he sustained in the battle. Yet, he wouldn’t allow anyone near Cheira, protecting her to the end.
Though extremely rare, the bond between a ranger and their companion animal can deepen beyond all comprehension. Fidelis could have received healing had he walked to the Temple of the Ages. Instead, he remained at the side of his beloved human.
This bridge has been rebuilt numerous times, but each time it collapsed within a few days of completion. What’s more, when the mists rise, a shadowy form of a lynx is often seen next to the wreckage. Most sightings are by rangers… accompanied by their charmed beasts.

  • Author: General Lacross
  • Location: The Falls
Long ago in what it is today called Tyria a great tragedy occurred. Around a hundred years ago existed a village located in what is know today as The Falls. The villagers were oblivious to the tragedy that was to befall them. One night under the shadow of darkness a group of mercenaries that was hired by a Guild as brute muscle only to be disposed of with no pay after their service, attacked the settlement. The village was pillaged and set ablaze. It is thought that the villagers sought asylum deep inside the forest in The Falls from the brutish marauders only to be followed by the flames that spread from the village, found and consumed by them. The yells, screams and cries for help, from the old to the young, filled The Falls that night; no one survived that horrid fire; a whole community burned alive.
However, the story does not end there. It is said by those who often explore The Falls (for what reasons would anyone explore that region often is beyond me) that during a certain occasion, when the dead come closer to the living (Halloween perhaps?), the forest starts to feel like if it was set ablaze, your skin feels like it is burning, vision dims as if you where looking through smoke and, scarier even, the ghosts of the villagers take their form begging franticly to those who walk the within of The Falls to quench the flames and save them for the burning inferno.

  • By: Macen Krace
  • Location: Lions Arch

(This story takes place on the beach of North Kryta Province, straight north as you head out of Lion's Arch)

It has been over 700 years since Kryta gained its independence, and many stories about how this was even possible when compared to the superior Elonian force persist. But one still haunts Northern Kryta. Such is the story of one of Kryta’s fine but power hungry generals.
Even though it was impossible to assault Lion’s Arch from the sea without many casualties, Elonian forces found a way around it through the shores of Northern Kryta and started preparing an assault on Lion’s Arch from their new position. Being a renegade Elonian himself, the Krytan general caught wind of this from one of his corsair contacts and went with a few of his elite troops to stop the invasion, with the added benefit of claiming all the glory for himself.
He arrived at dusk, when the Elonian force was setting up camp for the night. Honor and glory was what awaited him and his men as they fought to stop the deadly assault on Lion’s Arch, and they died for it, on the beaches of Northern of Kryta, but they ultimately assured independence along that battle line. Those were also his last words before he was stabbed in the back by one of his corsair friends after the battle; “For honor! For glory! For Kryta, and independence!”
But not even death stopped his power hungry ambitions. He struck a deal with Grenth; power, in exchange for all those souls he and his men can send to him. With this his spirit clung to his sword and slaughtered every single man left on the battlefield, corsair or not, friend or foe, swiftly accompanied by those of his warriors. Those who came here afterwards were terrified by the picture of a men kneeling before then, who were shortly stabbed in the back by multiple swords, then ripped or smashed to pieces by axes and hammers. Many fled the beaches, but not many survived and a very few of those who did spoke of the horrors that happened on those sands.
Even now, all those who come with the tides to the shores of the Northern Province of Kryta are set to meet their fate here, or so they say. The rusty weapons from the beach always seem to change their place. Reports that they are wielded by some mysterious force that keeps them floating in the air make people stay away from that place, that and the monsters that dwell on the beach.

More Information and Links

Guild Wars Guru Official Tyrian Ghost Walk Post
Guild Wars Guru Short Stories Post
Guild Wars 2 Guru Short Stories Post