Looking for an old Arenanet blog short story

Hi.This is most likely a request to one of the devs.Before the game started, a few short stories were posted in the old Arenanet Blog. There's one I very vividly remember about a young Norn who's father was slain in bet argument by a woman...

EDIT: Found it! Look down to the 3rd post.

Thanks.

I have had a look but i didn't see any story with this plot in the short story section xD I am curious about this too now.

Are you by any chance referencing the norn cultural blog post Spirit of Legend which references a short story in between explanations by the dev? I see that for some reason the bottom of the page doesn't include the Lore nav infobox when it should (along with some other cultural blogs), so I'll go editing the infobox in for easier navigation from story to story. And yeah, it's indeed a fascinating story, showing us the benefits of Snow Leopard's way (and which in turn influenced my norn ranger to take Snow Leopard as his Spirit of the Wild). :)

For reference, here's the short story without the dev explanations in between:

The fire blew sparks toward the heavens like stars seeking to return to their high, dark home. But there was no joy in this blaze, no celebration. What had once been a proud lodge was now little more than piles of ash huddled in the shadows of flickering, ember-lit logs.
"I'm sorry, Viskar." The old skaald placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. "There's nothing we can do. Your father lost the house, and everything in it, on his last wager with Grimhilde. She had the right to do whatever she chose with her winnings."
"She cheated. She cheated, but I can't prove it. What of my father, Fiach?" The youth snarled the words, biting off the syllables like a wolf gnawing its leg out of a trap. "Did she have the 'right' to kill him, too?"
Old Fiach sighed. "He was wrong to attack her. There will be no retribution from the Wolfborn of Hoelbrak for Grimhilde's actions. Nor should you seek vengeance upon her, Viskar. You are a new hunter, barely old enough to bear your own blade. Grimhilde is powerful, and legends of her cruelty are told at the moot to frighten children and humans." Shaking his head, the skaald pulled a leopard-fur cloak closer about his weary bones. "Put away your anger, young one. Bury your father. Leave this matter to the crows."
"No." Viskar wiped away his tears with the back of his hand, leaving soot stains across pale cheeks. "I may be young, Fiach, and I may be inexperienced."
"But I am still norn."
—
The stars above the Shiverpeaks were cold and bright, crowned by the iridescent borealis of the northern sky. In the Great Lodge of Hoelbrak, a youth stood before the shamans and sought lessons of revenge.
"No," said the shaman of Bear. "Learn strength, Viskar. Learn wisdom. Grimhilde does not seek victory. She seeks the utter annihilation of her enemy. I will not teach you to throw away your life."
"I am sorry," said Wolf's followers. "We would gladly help you avenge your family, but what you propose is suicide. Think of your pack. If you attack Grimhilde, she will punish those you love.'
The Havroun of Raven shook his head when Viskar asked. "You cannot even tell me how she cheated. Grimhilde is clever, and she always has a lethal surprise for her enemies. If you do not know more than she does, she will destroy you."
Viskar clenched his fists. "Will no one help me?"
A shadow moved in the corner of the lodge, and yellow eyes gleamed. "You haven't asked me yet," murmured the Speaker of Snow Leopard, Valharantha, her movements smooth and graceful.
"Will Snow Leopard teach me to take vengeance?" he asked. "If I follow her path, will she show me how to defeat Grimhilde?"
"More." Valharantha lowered her eyes and smiled. "She will turn your vengeance into legend."
—
Grimhilde knelt, studying the tracks. She'd been following them for six days, since the skaalds in Hoelbrak sung the legend of Whisperclaw, a fierce young mountain cat. Soon, she would challenge the beast, and—
"Grimhilde!" a voice called from the mountainside above. With a start, she reached for her weapon. Had someone come before her? Was her prey dead by another's hand? In anger, the warrior straightened and peered up into the crags. She did not have to wait long to see her enemy. "Who are you?" she asked cautiously, fingering the blade on her axe. If this stripling had stolen her prize, she would make him pay...with pain.
"I am your death, walking." The youth stood on a high ledge, balancing effortlessly. "Four years ago, you cheated my father of his life. I am here to avenge that debt."
"I remember you now." Grimhilde stepped backward and swept her axe from side to side. "Your father was a weak little thing—as are you. I should have slain you as a child, but that old man talked me out of it. No matter. I will deal with you, and when I return to the Great Lodge, I will end that relic of a storyteller as well."
The youth snarled, eyes bright with cold, bitter revenge. "You've come here to hunt," he said, "but you're the one being hunted. It is six days back to Hoelbrak over ice and snow, with no safe haven, no lodges or campgrounds along the way."
"You think to fight me?" she laughed. "Kill me, Grimhilde the Ferocious? The mightiest axe-wielder among the norn? You will die mewling like a kitten, young one. You're not powerful enough!"
"You're right. I'm not powerful enough to face you on your terms, so I'll face you on mine." The young hunter smiled wickedly. "Snow Leopard trained me in stealth and tracking. She also taught me to steel my mind against slumber. I can go five days without resting. I'll die after six, but I'll do it if I must. But you...you have to sleep sometime. And I'm willing to bet my life that you'll rest before I do."
Grimhilde stared at him, the blood draining from her face. "You would kill me in my sleep?"
"I will wait until my prey is at her weakest, and then I will strike." The young hunter smiled grimly. "And by Snow Leopard, I swear—you will never hear me coming."
—
"Let me tell you a tale." Old Fiach the skaald raised his hands to the sky as the fires of the moot crackled and leapt. "The story of the hero known as Viskar Whisperclaw. Hail the honor-son! Rightful rage-tender, shadow-striker, slayer of treasonous Grimhilde. Viskar, who despite all challenges, was willing to give his life to claim blood-debt from the one who had done him harm..."

@"Kossage.9072" said:Are you by any chance referencing the norn cultural blog post Spirit of Legend which references a short story in between explanations by the dev? I see that for some reason the bottom of the page doesn't include the Lore nav infobox when it should (along with some other cultural blogs), so I'll go editing the infobox in for easier navigation from story to story. And yeah, it's indeed a fascinating story, showing us the benefits of Snow Leopard's way (and which in turn influenced my norn ranger to take Snow Leopard as his Spirit of the Wild). :)

For reference, here's the short story without the dev explanations in between:

The fire blew sparks toward the heavens like stars seeking to return to their high, dark home. But there was no joy in this blaze, no celebration. What had once been a proud lodge was now little more than piles of ash huddled in the shadows of flickering, ember-lit logs.

"I'm sorry, Viskar." The old skaald placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. "There's nothing we can do. Your father lost the house, and everything in it, on his last wager with Grimhilde. She had the right to do whatever she chose with her winnings."

"She cheated. She cheated, but I can't prove it. What of my father, Fiach?" The youth snarled the words, biting off the syllables like a wolf gnawing its leg out of a trap. "Did she have the 'right' to kill him, too?"

Old Fiach sighed. "He was wrong to attack her. There will be no retribution from the Wolfborn of Hoelbrak for Grimhilde's actions. Nor should you seek vengeance upon her, Viskar. You are a new hunter, barely old enough to bear your own blade. Grimhilde is powerful, and legends of her cruelty are told at the moot to frighten children and humans." Shaking his head, the skaald pulled a leopard-fur cloak closer about his weary bones. "Put away your anger, young one. Bury your father. Leave this matter to the crows."

"No." Viskar wiped away his tears with the back of his hand, leaving soot stains across pale cheeks. "I may be young, Fiach, and I may be inexperienced."

"But I am still norn."

—

The stars above the Shiverpeaks were cold and bright, crowned by the iridescent borealis of the northern sky. In the Great Lodge of Hoelbrak, a youth stood before the shamans and sought lessons of revenge.

"No," said the shaman of Bear. "Learn strength, Viskar. Learn wisdom. Grimhilde does not seek victory. She seeks the utter annihilation of her enemy. I will not teach you to throw away your life."

"I am sorry," said Wolf's followers. "We would gladly help you avenge your family, but what you propose is suicide. Think of your pack. If you attack Grimhilde, she will punish those you love.'

The Havroun of Raven shook his head when Viskar asked. "You cannot even tell me how she cheated. Grimhilde is clever, and she always has a lethal surprise for her enemies. If you do not know more than she does, she will destroy you."

Viskar clenched his fists. "Will no one help me?"

A shadow moved in the corner of the lodge, and yellow eyes gleamed. "You haven't asked me yet," murmured the Speaker of Snow Leopard, Valharantha, her movements smooth and graceful.

"Will Snow Leopard teach me to take vengeance?" he asked. "If I follow her path, will she show me how to defeat Grimhilde?"

"More." Valharantha lowered her eyes and smiled. "She will turn your vengeance into legend."

—

Grimhilde knelt, studying the tracks. She'd been following them for six days, since the skaalds in Hoelbrak sung the legend of Whisperclaw, a fierce young mountain cat. Soon, she would challenge the beast, and—

"Grimhilde!" a voice called from the mountainside above. With a start, she reached for her weapon. Had someone come before her? Was her prey dead by another's hand? In anger, the warrior straightened and peered up into the crags. She did not have to wait long to see her enemy. "Who are you?" she asked cautiously, fingering the blade on her axe. If this stripling had stolen her prize, she would make him pay...with pain.

"I am your death, walking." The youth stood on a high ledge, balancing effortlessly. "Four years ago, you cheated my father of his life. I am here to avenge that debt."

"I remember you now." Grimhilde stepped backward and swept her axe from side to side. "Your father was a weak little thing—as are you. I should have slain you as a child, but that old man talked me out of it. No matter. I will deal with you, and when I return to the Great Lodge, I will end that relic of a storyteller as well."

The youth snarled, eyes bright with cold, bitter revenge. "You've come here to hunt," he said, "but you're the one being hunted. It is six days back to Hoelbrak over ice and snow, with no safe haven, no lodges or campgrounds along the way."

"You think to fight me?" she laughed. "Kill me, Grimhilde the Ferocious? The mightiest axe-wielder among the norn? You will die mewling like a kitten, young one. You're not powerful enough!"

"You're right. I'm not powerful enough to face you on your terms, so I'll face you on mine." The young hunter smiled wickedly. "Snow Leopard trained me in stealth and tracking. She also taught me to steel my mind against slumber. I can go five days without resting. I'll die after six, but I'll do it if I must. But you...you have to sleep sometime. And I'm willing to bet my life that you'll rest before I do."

Grimhilde stared at him, the blood draining from her face. "You would kill me in my sleep?"

"I will wait until my prey is at her weakest, and then I will strike." The young hunter smiled grimly. "And by Snow Leopard, I swear—you will never hear me coming."

—

"Let me tell you a tale." Old Fiach the skaald raised his hands to the sky as the fires of the moot crackled and leapt. "The story of the hero known as Viskar Whisperclaw. Hail the honor-son! Rightful rage-tender, shadow-striker, slayer of treasonous Grimhilde. Viskar, who despite all challenges, was willing to give his life to claim blood-debt from the one who had done him harm..."

Bingo! I can't believe I missed it. I was sure it was it's own blog post that I didn't even take a second look at this article.Thanks a lot.

@"MakubeC.3026" said:Bingo! I can't believe I missed it. I was sure it was it's own blog post that I didn't even take a second look at this article.Thanks a lot.

For reference, all/almost all blog posts with lore have been copied onto wiki and can be found at https://wiki.guildwars2.com/wiki/Category:Tales

So did he die in the process too or not?

@Konig Des Todes.2086 said:

@"MakubeC.3026" said:Bingo! I can't believe I missed it. I was sure it was it's own blog post that I didn't even take a second look at this article.Thanks a lot.

I know. But this one was conceived into the technical blog post, and that's why I missed it.

@Fenom.9457 said:So did he die in the process too or not?

No.

@MakubeC.3026 said:

@Fenom.9457 said:So did he die in the process too or not?

It's not that clear cut. They seem to have left it intentionally ambiguous- not having him appear in the final scene, having the skald dance around the issue with a phrase like 'willing to give his life'. There's nothing assertive either way.

@Aaron Ansari.1604 said:

@MakubeC.3026 said:

@Fenom.9457 said:So did he die in the process too or not?

His legend will forever live.