From being an Abandoned who had rarely left the Hollowed Grounds, to embracing the call of adventure, to dying and being reborn first as an Ascended and then as an Ancient, Maea has gone through quite the amount of changes in her life. One thing remains common, though, in her attempts to find out just where she belongs; she’s always had a craving for knowledge which has brought her to so many places and to meet so many people here in Caido. We can’t wait to see what else is in store for her!
Congratulations, Maea!
Credits
Court of the Fallen was created in October of 2018 by Odd, Honey, and Crooked.
Skinning and hosting by the epically talented Kaons, and functionality fanciness by the coding magic of Neowulf. If you ever see either of them around, make sure to show them some love!
A droplet landed on Isar's cheek. Tilting his head back, he gazed up at the overcast sky. The rain came intermittently and had a bite to it that reminded him of Halo, if only by the bitter reminder of what it meant to be cold and wet and without anywhere to go.
Standing outside the big stone building someone had called a temple, he kept gazing up and down the streets that branched away from the square, indecisive. Options had been suggested to him by a talkative passenger that took him under their wing along the journey from the Climb. Pick up some goods and become a merchant. Pick up a sword and become a soldier. Pick up a bow, even, and make a living as a huntsman. Or perhaps he was more of a clergyman, a healer, a scholar, a smith - and while he didn't really have the look of a weaver, an artist or a bard, imagination really was the only limit to the paths laid before his feet.
That was a lot to choose between. Isar had not mentioned that his only real skillsets fell more towards the dark and unsavory, the kind that honest men had nightmares about. Out of all the options he supposed that soldiering lay closest to all that... but he'd had a look at the military barracks and quickly turned his back on the rigid lines of uniformed men and woman and the idea of explaining his past to them. He'd done that before - he would not do it again.
A chill wind sent leaves skittering past his feet. Hunching his shoulders against the rain, the dark-eyed man cautiously inched closer to the large bonfire. Magical, he assumed, since it burned from crystals and didn't appear to need feeding. Magic was... rare, in his life. Not something he had thought much about, save for the occasional desire towards power and a reason to leave his old life. He didn't know much about it, as a result, except to be wary of it. The colorful display didn't seem to do anything but burn prettily though, and the warmth it spread over the area was welcome.
He remained there for a long time. Lost in thought as he stared unseeing into the flames, a solitary figure dressed in rags who drew only passing glances from the citizens. Sooner or later he would have to find somewhere to crash for the night. Only, he couldn't bring himself to leave just yet.
So, chasing a Voidweaver Spider through the streets of the Grounds wasn't how Tal had wanted to spend his afternoon, but nevertheless, there he was. The courier was scrambling down the street as the little violet vermin scurried over the cobbles, hissing and chittering its rage. It kept trying to veer off to one side or another to escape down side alleys or into buildings, but the pale dragon winging low overhead sent little gouts of flame down to dissuade it every time and it was forced to remain in the open.
"Hey! Stand still y'little fucker!" the courier hollered as he made another grab with leather-gauntleted hands and missed again as the spider made a last second leap forward. Something small and glittering swung from one of Tal's hands as he caught his balance and continued the chase, heading straight for the ever-burning bonfire and the solitary person standing in front of it. "Hey, look out! Don't let it get away!" he yelled to the stranger in hopes that the man might block the spider's escape.
The chaotic procession did not go unnoticed. More than one person turned their heads to see what the source of the mayhem might be, and the presence of the spider had shoppers and wanderers alike scattering.
Torn from his contemplation, Isar followed the skittering arachnid with dark eyes that narrowed as it came his way. Nasty fucker, too big to be allowed and clearly vicious; his lips curled with distaste at the sight. Turning to face it, he casually swung a leg and kicked the spider away. There was a nasty crunch of breaking carapace. When it landed the hairy legs stirred feebly, but by the look of it the spider was very much done with running.
Leaving the bonfires, Isar headed over towards the dying animal, by the look of it intent on finishing it off.
Well thank fuck someone had some balls! Tal could have cheered when the stranger's kick landed with a satisfying sound of murdered void critter against the spider's abdomen--
Right up until he remembered Safrin's requirements.
"Wait! Wait! Hold on, I just gotta--" He yelped and put on a burst of speed, making a dive worthy of a baseball player sliding into home base as he skidded between Isar and the spider so he could slap the charm in his hand against the Voidweaver's intact cephalothorax.
At which point the dying bugarachnid predictably tried to bite him and Tal yelped and smashed it again with his fist.
There was a second splatter, some of which splashed across Tal's gloved arm, but the Voidweaver was now quite thoroughly and irreversibly dead and the courier slowly sat up. He scowled, thoroughly disgusted at the mess as he tried to shake it off the no-longer-glittering object he held, and the dragon backwinged to a landing beside him. She hiccuped smokily and then unleashed a final gout of fire over the spider's carcass with every evidence of glee.
This caused a second yelp as Tal scrambled back from the flame, giving his dragon a look of wounded offense before he realized the legs he'd backed into belonged to the man who'd stopped the spider in the first place.
"Oh, hey! Uh... thanks. That was a pretty good kick," he admitted, relief scrubbing the usual reluctance from his compliment as he sheepishly scooted forward a few feet so he could get to his feet.
The yell to wait reached him just in time to stop, narrowly avoiding being tackled by the stranger. Isar watched with stoic interest as the man scampered about, snatching the final kill as if it was some kind of game. Well if they were playing, he was of the opinion that the dragon was the victor, given the way she had the man recoiling from the flame of her enthusiasm.
Taking a step back to free himself from the person, Isar shrugged at compliment, more interested in the bangle around the man's wrist.
"What are you doing?" he asked, in a deep barytone as full of velvet shadows as his lightless eyes.
Tal started to dust himself off but stopped just in time when he realized he was using the gooey gauntlet. He shifted from foot to foot in indecision for a moment before gingerly using his other hand to try and pat off some of the grime from his slide. "Playin' tag with a Voidweaver," Tal answered ruefully as he did more to smear the dirt around than remove it.
He whistled his dragon over, getting her to grip the less-slimy gauntlet in her teeth for a brief game of tug-tug before she managed to get it off his hand. She paraded it proudly over to Isar to show it off as Tal used his now-free hand to dig into the Bag at his side and pull out a water canteen that he dumped over his other hand to rinse it - and the trinket - off.
"I needed it alive, 'least until I'd gotten this sorted out," he admitted as he worked. He gave the raggedy man a closer look as they spoke, his dark brows furrowing in thought. "Say, y'don't happen t'live here, d'you?" he asked hopefully.
"Hmm." Giving little away by way of expression, Isar watched the dragon parade around with the glove. He had seen enough dragons in his life to be wary of even the smallest of them, and this one was by no means dainty. He stood his ground when it approached, but made no move to touch it.
"Not yet," he replied, choosing to respond to the question with honesty. "I arrived with the skyship this morning. Not that I plan to leave. But I have yet to settle." And with no profession to speak of, no valuables to his name and only one connection who had disappeared off somewhere before he thought to ask how to find her, he was in a bit of a... what did the city folk call it.. a sparkle? No, a pickle. "Why do you ask?"
Isar wasn't the first person to be less than enthused to have a particularly large, burly, and carnivorous (well, omnivorous in Boreal's case) companion approach him, but that didn't stop the dragon from dropping the glove on his bare foot and then sitting back, watching him hopefully. Tal finally glanced over when he finished cleaning off his other glove and murmured a quiet, slightly embarrassed: "Leave off, girl," as he tried to sort himself out.
He tilted his head, taking in the itinerant's ragged appearance - really taking it in - for the first time as he cleaned himself up as best he could. "Huh. Well, fair enough." He chewed his lip for a moment in thought, then shrugged as he came to a decision. "Tal Seawright," he offered, then nodded to the dragon who was still watching the Ancient unblinkingly from big, sad eyes. "An' Boreal. Couriers. It's... kinda complicated. Uh. An' it involves th'gods?" It wasn't a question, but his voice rose enough on the last word to make it seem like it was. He was starting to feel a little self-conscious about asking people about their personal religious preferences.
Ah. So they had progressed to exchanging names. Interesting. This stranger was more outgoing than him by far; Isar had never been much for small talk, and profound loneliness over the past handful of years had robbed him of the charms he once possessed. He had known how to smile once, but didn't feel the need or inclination to pretend anymore.
"Isar Sindri," he returned, bottomless eyes narrowing in recognition of the Halovian accent. His was similar, but not identical - he wondered if anyone would truly be able to pick out the Whitebrim drawl for what it was anymore. Not many had survived a visit and been able to leave with their tongues intact. "Mmmh... if it's not Dygra, I don't care," he shrugged. "Are you hiring?"
It was a spur of the moment question. Impulsive, but at this point, what did he have to lose? At the very least he might be able to scrape up enough to find himself a room somewhere.
It was amazing how a quest from a god could force one into being a lot more outgoing than they would normally be. Take Tal, for instance, whose nose wrinkled in uncertainty as Isar's accent sounded... almost-but-not-quite familiar. The courier had been in Whitebrim quite a bit, but only after one of the Warden's Ascended pals in the shape of a dragon had razed it to the ground, leaving it an smoldering ruin. The charred remains of the residents had quickly been claimed by ursur and other tundra scavengers, leaving a ghost town that the courier had been starting to fix up before the War had finished the job of wiped it off the map.
"So y'wouldn't mind if a shrine t'th'old gods got built here?" Tal was so very tempted to just take the first answer and count it as a win, but he was determined to do this right, even if it made it harder to succeed in the end.
He wasn't prepared for the sudden shift in topic and he blinked, taken aback while his thoughts scrambled to shift and catch up. "Uh... I mean... maybe?" he said slowly, mind racing to tally up which of his courier stations needed an extra hand. "My place in Torchline could use another clerk," he said after a couple of moments of thinking. "But I'd need t'get t'know you before hirin' you in. It's my reputation on th'line, so..." He trailed off with a shrug.
Torchline might be a bit more comfortable for an itinerant Ancient once Deepfrost sank its teeth into Caido, too, which if the current weather was any indication was fairly imminent.
"No. Go ahead. As long as I don't have to pray at it. Those gods never did anything for me, and I have nothing to say to them." What anyone else did or thought was none of his concern. Now, that could have been a win for Talyson Seawright, but unfortunately Isar was not a citizen of the Hollowed Ground. His opinion of what went on within its borders mattered not at all while he remained on the road.
Considering the option of relocating somewhere else, his first inclination was to change his mind. "Mmmh... Fair enough. If you have questions, I can answer them. Are there ancients in Torchline too?" That was important. He had come here to find kin, to become part of something - to escape his loneliness and lack of roots. A job was a job, and he would do what he had to in order to survive, but if it steered him too far from his goals it was bound to be a short stint.
"Yeah? That's a good way t'look at it." Did Tal breathe a quiet sigh of relief? He certainly did! Maybe Isar wasn't a resident yet, but at least the courier's bases were covered if the rather scraggly Ancient ever did make the permanent move to the Grounds.
Hail, maybe Tal would even join him someday.
But for now, the two wanderers had other concerns. "Well... um." Tal hesitated, but he was Halovian born and bred even if he didn't currently call that corner of the world home. Trust didn't come so easily, and even the courier wasn't gullible enough to take a man he'd just met at his word without doing some background digging of his own. "It's more that I'm not gonna hire anyone until I get t'know 'em," he said bluntly. "Or at least if someone I trust can vouch for 'em. If packages go missin', it's my reputation an' name on th'line, y'see. But if you're still interested..." He shrugged and screwed up his face in thought about Isar's own question. "Ummm. Well, not as many as there used t'be," he admitted slowly, thinking of Edmund. "But I still see a few there, yeah. Prob'ly nicer t'spend Deepfrost there'n here." More amenities than the Climb and a hailuva lot warmer than the Grounds in winter, it seemed more comfortable than the Grounds by far in the coldest season.
If you didn't mind the whole giant fucking purple island skulking out in the ocean like a big fat boil on the face of Caido itself.
Considering for only a while longer, Isar eventually shook his head. "I would rather be cold in the company of kin than warm and comfortable on my own. If this is where my people are, this is where I will stay."
His gaze fell to the dragon, and the glove she had dropped at his feet before her master reclaimed it. The dragon had manners, and was clearly well begaved. A testimony to the nature of her companion, and a good sign in his eyes. "But I thank you, for considering."
Tal would have fallen over laughing so hard he pulled a muscle if he knew that Isar thought Boreal was 'well-behaved.' Sure, she had on her company manners while hoping in vain that the Ancient would provide either food or scritches, but just wait'll dinnertime!
The courier did, at least, notice that Isar wasn't falling over himself to spoil the dragon and he reached over to grab one of her sturdy horns, tugging her back towards him. She snorted a mild protest but went after a few seconds of digging her talons in and making it clear that she was choosing to go with him. "Yeah? Well... guess I can understand that," Tal agreed gruffly, his opinion of the man going up a little. "Tell y'what, we can see how things go, an' if we get on well enough an' there's an openin' at the waystation here I'll keep you in mind for it?"
