A Warrior Reforged

Brutus Ironrend was and is still a Centurion and proud warrior of Black Citadel, pride of the Charr and the Pact Commander. There he sat, at the fireplace with his fellow Pact soldiers eating and drinking after finally putting down Death-Branded Shatterer; as it's body began to rot in the background. The soldiers was in cheerful mood, the Pact have had went this far and the peace for the world is within their grasp as Ironrend took a swig from his favorite moonshine from Black Citadel. He snapped out of his good mood when one of Charrs ran up to him, seemingly out of breath and quickly giving the traditional salute as he delivered a terrible news.

His cub have had died, it was by hands by one of Flame Legions.

Slowly he stood up, in full Dreadnought armour- his moonshine that was clenched in his claws shattered into pieces. The soldiers who sat next to him suddenly became afraid of him, feeling the rage and anger coming off him in waves. Brutus narrowed his eyes that seemingly led to nowhere and let out a murderous growl that made the group around him suddenly, not only afraid but afraid for their own life.
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Upon stepping into his home, punching down one of the guards who tried to stop him- the another guard quickly backed off when he figured out that his buddy stopped a Centurion. Brutus stormed into his room and discovered two items laying on his bed- a dark blue scarf made by his cub prior to her death in hopes of giving to him for all of his accomplishments with promise that she will live up to his name or exceed it someday and another was a small bow that was made for a cub; Brutus found out from one of her Fahrar that she trained really hard with it. Before Brutus left, he shredded his Dreadnought armor and hung it up at his home, donning his older armor that he used to wear before climbing the ranks. He headed straight to huntsman's shop and requested it to be reforged into a bow that he can use. Brutus then donned the scarf and went straight for the Mist. In a search of power to be able protect everything that he came to care about, come high water or hell; he shall trudge on- no matter how painful it would be. Rytlock, his closest friend taught him how to go there and some of it's secrets has become transparent to him after he have had died and escaped it once.

So he went there, clenching his new bow and his scarf waving in the air as he descended into the Mist.
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In the semi-darkness in the lands that Flame Legion controlled, Brutus spent days- the scorching heat didn't put him off but instead helped to focus his anger and rage at the murderer. It was one thing for soldiers to face each other on the battlefield and kill for a reason or another but it was entirely different when it comes to the young. In his wake, he left a path of blood and death, bodies filled with arrowheads- Brutus also gathered information and discovered that one of corpses that was actually the murderer but there was someone above him that ordered the death, it was one of the fire shaman. Grunting, he picked up the flame axe that the murderer has dropped, hilting it as his trophy.

It was an act of revenge for the death of Gaheron Baelfire.

He trudged on, not too long after he found the shaman- slowly drawing out the bow and crouched; his aim straight, his powerful claws drawing the arrowhead, he invoked the powerful spirit of his fellow long-dead Charr- all of them saluting him and Brutus uttered a promise under his breath; as only himself and Gods as the witnesses to the promise.

"Gellia, I shall be the father and a Charr that you would be extremely proud of. Your promise is now my promise, I shall adopt your warband, not only in name- your fellow Fahrar as well and it shall become known throughout Black Citadel, Blood Citadel and the entire Tyria."

Brutus Ironrend was now Brutus Feralshot.

He will deal with the consequences later but Brutus bet that his current warband will be very supportive and the cubs will be more bolstered in knowing that they were now part of powerful warband. They must be trained by them, noting to himself to arrange that when he get back to Black Citadel.

Brutus took a deep breath, his fiery anger made him focus on his aim and in seemingly slow motion released the string, the arrow flew straight and true and stuck the target in the back- the shaman's security turned on him and ran toward his location. There was four Charr running toward him with their weaponary out. Holstering his bow as he pulled out his axe and his bottle of moonshine- ready for a fight to the death- if he died today, so it shall be- Black Citadel and the Pact, both of them will survive under Rytlock and many great comrades that he have came to known. With a roar, he jumped from the cliff with his axe swinging down.
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When he reappeared in one of the Pact's camp- Rytlock has noticed a big deal of change within him, including a missing left eye but his spirit has been reforged into something stronger- an equal to himself or even above; Kasmeer Meade, Delaqua, Rox, Taimi and Canach was more than glad to see their friend alive and well and seemed is more than ready than ever to lead the Pact to victory, in that path of victory- a peacetime for Tyria. Brutus Feralshot looked into the sky, his good right eye glinting…

“Aurene”.

Another swig of moonshine down his throat.