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!
Waking from the dream Witnessing the smoke that's rolling in
Punch, punch, kick. Punch, punch, knee, kick, spin, repeat on the other side. The sound of her fists connecting with the heavy sandbag was a soft echo bouncing between the walls of the rundown training hall. It was a mantra playing on repeat in her mind, consuming all thoughts until it was all she knew. Punch, punch, kick. Punch, punch, knee, kick, spin, repeat.
The sun was going down. It was growing cooler. The locals were wrapping up their evening workouts and even the last dogged enthusiasts were tugging shirts back on and heading for the pubs - or home, though the latter were in low number. A few cast questioning glances at the short, ivory skinned girl and then at each other, questions hanging unspoken in the air. None really dared approach though. She had that look about her, that suggested anyone who spoke up better be bringing fists or drinks, or both. In the end, she was left alone on the training ring, as shadows grew longer and the last bit of sunlight disappeared beneath rooftops.
Something burned in her gut. A sour sort of ache, the kind there wasn't any word for, and no way to really get rid of. Reading wouldn't distract from it, no food settled well and sleeping was out of the question. The burn in her knuckles did ease it a bit, though. The way her breath tore at the throat, and the sting of her own sweat as it rolled into her eyes. It didn't feel good, but it didn't feel bad either; so she kept going. Pushed herself until her muscles groaned, until her brain yelled at her to quit.
That's when it felt the most satisfying to keep going. Punching harder, kicking faster; it was a controlled frenzy, the kind of self-torment that wouldn't actually do any harm to anyone. Not yet, anyway.
The end is what you fear The scent of embers lingers in the air
♦ Violence, magic, thievery is permitted with Maea at all times. DM me if you have any ideas ♦
”Mmh. Torchline could use that fire in our militia,” a voice rumbled from the doorway, casting a shadow in the light of the rising moon. The tall King had to duck to slip inside the training grounds, but he was unmistakable from the moon-steel of his long hair to the golden tattoos that crossed the bare brown skin of his muscular torso. His legs were clad in black leather trousers embroidered with hand-stitched silver stars but his feet were as bare as they ever were when he had them as he walked inside and looked around with quiet approval at the training equipment and practice weapons stored along the walls.
His trident tapped lightly against the ground with every other footfall, but he no longer leaned it for support. He moved with a fresh confidence and a lightness to his step for all that he was a large and heavy man as he approached, emerald eyes sparking with recognition of the Ancient who was losing herself in the physical exertion of her training.
”Your aggression is good,” he acknowledged with a dip of his head. ”But how is your defense?” Setting the trident to lean against the wall, he moved into the boxing ring and raised his hands in front of him, fingers curled lightly into fists as he waited for Maea to join him.
Waking from the dream Witnessing the smoke that's rolling in
There was only her left to be addressed, yet it took a moment before the ancient responded. Finishing the set, she stopped the swaying sandbag with both hands and sucked in breath after breath until she could hear more than her own heartbeat drumming in the ears.
Glancing over her shoulder, she followed Hadama's path across the room and into the ring. The dangerous gleam in her eyes persisted, underlined by the way her tail kept slashing the air; he may be a friend, but that did not spare him from her temper if this turned out to be anything other than a spar. But she did not reject the chance. She was already warmed up and everything, with sweat beading on her skin and the threadbare tank top flecked with perspiration. It left her arms bare, and she had discarded her own shoes by the pile of rags that was her overcoat. The wide trousers had been rolled up to just below the knees, ballooning around her legs but offering ample amount of room to move. Just the way she liked things.
Picking up rolls of cloth on the way, Maea spared a moment to wrap her hands properly and tossed some for the king before ducking into the ring. "Why don't you come find out?" she challenged, her voice like the whisper of steel being drawn from its sheath. Finding her stance, she tucked her chin, brought her fists up and invited Hadama to make the first move with a 'come hither' wave of a hand.
The end is what you fear The scent of embers lingers in the air
♦ Violence, magic, thievery is permitted with Maea at all times. DM me if you have any ideas ♦
He caught the cloth and began a slow imitation of how Maea was binding her hands and knuckles, studying how she did it. Such things weren't usually necessary among the Mer; the water itself ensured that bare-knuckle fighting was rarely dangerous, and he had not yet spent much time in dryland combat.
"Hmm. A kind invitation," he acknowledged, inclining his head as he finished preparing his own hands. He flexed his fingers, getting used to the feeling of the bindings over his knuckles. Unhurried and unintimidated by the fierce Ancient, he rolled his neck and shoulders to loosen them and then took a moment to find his balance on the balls of his feet, as Koa was teaching him.
And then he lashed out in a straight jab at Maea's chest, quick as a striking seasnake, utilizing his greater reach and the speed that usually lurked hidden beneath his slow deliberations.
Waking from the dream Witnessing the smoke that's rolling in
Kindness had nothing to do with it. She just looked forward to taking her feelings out on someone who wouldn't get hurt. While words were dangerous, fists were easy to understand; pain a straightforward method of communication that most everyone understood.
And this couldn't be plainer. Dodging the first blow by shifting her weight to the right, Maea immediately countered by stepping in closer and sending a kick flying. Aiming high, she tried to connect the upside of her foot against Hadama's ribs. Strictly speaking that wasn't part of the rules in regular boxing... but he had not set any stipulations before they started. So she would kick all she wanted.
The end is what you fear The scent of embers lingers in the air
♦ Violence, magic, thievery is permitted with Maea at all times. DM me if you have any ideas ♦
It was difficult to specify the rules for a boxing match when Hadama didn't know them. Then again, he wasn't used to kicks, in general, being physically possible.
But he knew a great deal about tail slaps, and as Maea's body shifted back to counter the lifting of her leg he reacted accordingly by dropping his elbow and bent arm to take the force of the blow.
Ah, but he had asked how her defense was, and she could not show off that skill if he did not also attack. So even as he moved his arm to block her kick he stepped forward into her attack, content to take accept a glancing blow in exchange for the chance to use his greater height and weight to force her back and off balance with a chest-bump.
Waking from the dream Witnessing the smoke that's rolling in
The skin of her foot prickled and stung as it connected with Hadama's muscled arm. Before she had time to put her leg down again he was pressing in, no doubt to shove her off balance. But Maea was used to being the smaller of two combatants, and she had learned to be prepared for such things.
And since the best defense was a good offense, she allowed herself to be shoved backwards; used the momentum and the counter-balance of her tail to put her foot down, only to immediately pivot and aim a spinning kick at Hadama in retaliation. Anyone else would have seen a bare foot come flying towards their face. In this case, his jaw was the best she could hope for.
The end is what you fear The scent of embers lingers in the air
♦ Violence, magic, thievery is permitted with Maea at all times. DM me if you have any ideas ♦
The kick draw a quiet sound from the taller fighter in the ring, not quite a grunt so much as an acknowledgment of impact. Taking it on his bicep, tensed and ready for it, robbed it of its power, however, especially combined with his forward movement.
His size was sometimes a detriment (as his training with Kaiden would soon demonstrate), but usually it was an asset that he was fully willing to take advantage of. It was true in offense, as he bullied Maea back, but not off-balance. The Ancient was nimble and quick on her feet, and another foot came flying at him as he ceased his forward momentum.
Conveniently, she chose to kick towards his face, where his fists remained raised in defense. Emerald eyes gleamed in the split second before he leaned a hair's breadth back so that the kick would pass harmlessly past his solid chin if he missed his own attack. One hand snapped forward to try and grab Maea's ankle as it passed by and hold it high up, to try and prevent her from catching her balance again.
Waking from the dream Witnessing the smoke that's rolling in
There was always danger involved with putting her feet off the ground. Balance only came as a result of knowing your center of gravity, of being able to displace it and twist and bend in ways that compensated for every motion you performed. It had taken Maea two seasons just to get used to the new ways her horns and tail shifted that center, and for all that she was quick and could land on her feet, she still hadn't come up with a solution for situations like this.
Because Hadama absolutely managed to seize her around the ankle, and suddenly all her momentum was brought to a screeching halt. Jumping awkwardly on one leg with the other held in a strong grip, she tried to twist away and threw a hissing punch at his hopefully exposed midriff - even knowing that there was no strength behind it. At best she could hope to catch him off guard. At worst... he would lift her clean off the floor like she was an actual doll.
Or like a kitten during a hissy fit, being picked up and held by the scruff. Neither image appealed much to her at that moment.
The end is what you fear The scent of embers lingers in the air
♦ Violence, magic, thievery is permitted with Maea at all times. DM me if you have any ideas ♦
Hadama's midriff was, indeed, exposed. Though he had one arm in a guard position, it was blocking his ribs, not his abs, and Maea's body was in the way so that he could not see her strike until it landed squarely on one hard block of muscle above where his belly button would be, if Mer had belly buttons. Which, being hatched rather than born, they did not. Even in the midst of battle a loreseeker could learn something new!
He held onto her ankle as her sharp, hard fist impacted against him. This time she did drive a faint grunt from him and his emerald eyes narrowed down at her in amused appreciation of the hit. He might have lifted her - the idea did cross his mind - but it was undignified and he discarded it immediately.
She had wanted to be in close with him, however, and there was a price to pay for that.
Maintaining his hold on her ankle, he jerked her leg down to waist-height and returned her punch with his free hand fist: a sharp, hard jab at her chest, just below her throat.
Her face was closer and less awkward to hit, but the image of blood spraying across the white canvas of her hair and skin was decidedly unappealing to the Tidebreaker.
Waking from the dream Witnessing the smoke that's rolling in
There were always options. Some were better than others, while some were downright stupid. And then there were the silly ones. Maea preferred to steer clear of silly most of the time, but when it was the most unexpected thing to do, sometimes she didn't mind letting go of pride and dignity and all that.
So what did she do? Well, since Hadama liked her leg so much, she gave him the other one, too. When he lowered her leg she braced against his grip and practically heaved herself up into the air, torso going backwards - conveniently dodging the brunt of his jab to her chest - while her free leg kicked a bare heel right at that handsome chin of his.
It was a true gamble, that really might do nothing more than see her sprawling on the floor. But if it worked... boy, if it worked, she would be able to show Safrin's follower a whole other set of stars.
The end is what you fear The scent of embers lingers in the air
♦ Violence, magic, thievery is permitted with Maea at all times. DM me if you have any ideas ♦
When it came to legs, Hadama still had a lot to learn. He had not even considered, for instance, that anyone would voluntarily jump and leave themselves hanging completely from his grip. Taking both feet off the ground seemed like an incredibly risky and difficult maneuver to him still, and he was unprepared for the kick flip that Maea performed.
His saving grace was that he did still have hold of her ankle and her balance subsequently suffered the consequences. Her heel struck his chin while he was still adjusting to the sudden increase in weight suspended from his hand, and his teeth clicked together as his head rose with the momentum of the kick.
Maea would find herself dropped as Hadama straightened to rub his chin ruefully, looking down at her with fresh consideration and respect. "Mmh. I am impressed. How do you stay balanced on one leg when you kick?"
Waking from the dream Witnessing the smoke that's rolling in
She was surprised that it worked too. Landing on her back, the woman rolled off to the side and came up on her feet in a ready stance once more, only to find Hadama rubbing his chin. Her hands fell down to the sides, accepting that the bout was over for now, and felt a mounting sense of satisfaction ease past the disgruntlement.
"Practice," she replied, "but mostly it's about momentum. I can show you some kicks to practice, if you would like." Not the most common of fighting methods, she found it far easier to get power into a kick than into a fist. With the added bonus of keeping her fingers from breaking.
The end is what you fear The scent of embers lingers in the air
♦ Violence, magic, thievery is permitted with Maea at all times. DM me if you have any ideas ♦
"I would," he agreed to her offer, leaving off investigating his bruised chin with a rueful shake of his head. He looked down at his hands, flexing them thoughtfully after the feeling of fighting with them without water to slow and cushion his strikes, but it was feet that Maea had offered to teach him about and he glanced up again to give the petite Ancient his full attention.
"Have you made progress on your investigations of the Void?" he asked her, his gaze growing more solemn as he moved to stand beside her so he could copy the moves she would show him. Safrin had tasked him to learn more of the Family, and since they seemed related to the corruption upon their world it was at least a place to start. He was too pragmatic to waste time and energy replicating work that had already been done by someone more qualified for such investigations.
