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!
Chopping wood seemed straight forward enough, at least it had done when joking about it covered in dust, crumbling whitewash, and bruises. Oh how wise one could be when not standing there just as the sun peered over the trees, fiddling with a loose tab of rawhide just to entertain the fingers and pass the time. Not that it would do the shield any good, it still felt good. Natural almost. Enough that the cobbler could take his mind off the coming ordeal, for once not borrowing misery from tomorrow.
Only for a few moments though. The silhouette of the hero made him acutely aware of just how much of a joke he must've looked like. A cobbler warrior, and what a warrior he was. Man-and-a-half clad in padded leathers and wielding weapons rough enough to have come out of the ground at that very moment. Yet the blunted axe he'd manage to trade for felt far better than the sharp one ever did. A weapon, if still a blunt one, but one made for splitting shields instead of firewood. A weapon fitting a man with only one thing in mind.
"Heill!" Are shouted as she got a bit closer, anxious to get the pleasantries over with so they could get directly at embarrassing him and hopefully turn him from a hopelessly wailing cobbler to a hopelessly wailing warrior.
Glimpses of fate bring light to your despair
Realise hope isn't short of your grasp
Resurrect every dream that you've buried alive
And never succumb to the war that you fight
To be completely honest, Roana was a but worried about how this training session was going to go. Are was a nice, honest fellow, if a bit touched in the head, but he wasn't exactly typical warrior material. She saw the potential there... but boy oh boy would there be hurdles. Big, nasty hurdles no less. As she strode onto the training field, a sleeveless tunic, leggings, boots her gear of choice, she gave him a nod of greeting. On her shoulder he would see a vicious scar from where the Spire Demon had bitten her.
And of course, per usual, Krosis was on her hip. But unlike previous meetings, she unsheathed the blade which gleamed in the light.
"Alright, Are. Get ready for a steep learning curve." she said with a smirk, swinging the sword around as if it weighed nothing to warm up. When ready, she placed herself in a defensive stance, the smirk still not leaving her lips. "Let's see how good your instincts are. Attack me, no holds barred." she said in a commanding tone. With an axe he could potentially really hurt her...if he could hit her.
Her movements just made him further doubt his ability to do anything more than make a fool of himself. Routine, it was the first thing that came to mind when he saw her fluid, sweeping cuts seemingly slicing the air itself. Dance-like as the warrior flowed from strike to strike, every arc and thrust further driving home the point just how far the cobbler had to go if he'd want to be of any use.
Yet he assumed a vaguely stance-like posture without question when ordered to. If anything he could at least do as he was told. He suspected he was in more danger of getting hurt than Roana ever was, even if the axe hadn't been blunted. A few deep breaths, enough to loosen him up and calm his nerves a touch. It was what he'd asked for, after all.
A short nod and he was on the balls of his feet, body low and steady. Just as his brothers had taught him the hard way. A step, a wind up, and a mighty swing. She had said no holds barred, so with all his might he swung high over his head as if cleaving a great big log.
Glimpses of fate bring light to your despair
Realise hope isn't short of your grasp
Resurrect every dream that you've buried alive
And never succumb to the war that you fight
Roana smirked, glad to see that Are could at least follow orders. He charged at her, but she remained steadfast, unmoving from her spot. She would not lose ground, not today. As his axe swung down, she continued to stand still, smirk still curving her lips. At the very last second her arm shot up and grabbed his wrist, stopping the descent as easily as if she had caught a pillow in her hand.
”Lesson one: never leave an opening for your opponent to take advantage of.” she said with a grin. In an instant she lifted a leg and kicked forward, aimed at his chest, to send Are flying back. Only when she was sure that her kick would connect would she let go of his wrist, otherwise he would remain steadfast in her hold.
He would have contemplated the meaning of the words. Properly allowing them to sink in and mull over them for an hour or so, maybe busy himself as to allow it to really make sense to him before applying it in any shape or form.
At least that had been the plan the split second before the actual lesson landed square in his chest. Sending the cobbler and what little breath he had left, hurtling back end over end, spilling both axe and shield to either side.
Allowing himself a few moments to collect his thoughts and what Roana knocked out of him he started reconsidering how wise of a move it really had been. Maybe brute force had it's place, but Are had learned that he had a shield for a reason other than to cower behind. Determination won out in the end though, so he got up, collected his arms and resumed a more guarded stance.
No words from the cobbler, only a face of slightly pained determination and another wind up. Not allowing his shield to fall down he struck out from behind it, another wide, arcing sweep coming down like a falling tree.
Glimpses of fate bring light to your despair
Realise hope isn't short of your grasp
Resurrect every dream that you've buried alive
And never succumb to the war that you fight
Roana grinned, watching him tumble backwards, his axe flying from his hand. ”Lesson two: Always keep hold of your weapon. Unless you’re a really confident grappler I suppose.” she said with a light laugh. Ronin would have laughed aloud at lesson two. He preferred fighting with just his fists. But for someone like Are, it was probably best if he kept ahold of any slight advantage he might have for now.
She was pleased when he righted himself and charged again. It seemed odd, how quiet he was, but it spoke to his work ethic and determination. He was focused on taking her out, as unlikely as it was. Again, she waited for him to get close, side-stepping at the last second to get out of the way. ”Lesson three: Don’t forget your back!” she said, removing Krosis from its sheath and swinging it at his back in one movement. Of course, she twisted her wrist so if it hit him, it would land on the broad, flat side of the blade, not the sharpened edges.
Wrestling would've probably been a better call, banking on what little practice he'd had working in his favor. Although the shield was enough of an edge to keep both hands armed instead. It would have been, had he not barreled straight past his intended target, burying his axe in the dirt with a resounding thud.
At least he kept it in hand, even as his back stung from the educational lash he white-knuckled the tools of the trade and whipped around, ready for the next bout. Pretending as if he hadn't yelped as the cold steal left a throbbing welt even through the padding, distorting his face in a teary-eyed grimace for a few moments.
"Another!" he shouted and with vigor cross-stepped for another, more controlled swing. Making sure to give the shield ample room to catch any incoming strikes while also keeping his own hidden 'til the last moment. A sweep and a hasty retreat, stepping back almost before he even knew if he'd hit or missed.
Glimpses of fate bring light to your despair
Realise hope isn't short of your grasp
Resurrect every dream that you've buried alive
And never succumb to the war that you fight
The yelp he elicited from the lashing made her wince and snicker a bit. There was a lesson he wasn’t going to be soon to forget. Again though, he came at her, once again proving his grit in spite of his poor form. Poor compared to her anyways. Overall he was doing pretty well for not knowing what he was doing. Roana dodged his strike again and as he retreated she swung Krosis hard, the edge of the blade burying itself in the shield. With a strong tug it was freed, but would likely throw Are off balance.
”A shield isn’t just to hide behind, it is a weapon to bash your opponents and distract them.” she said, swinging Krosis in circles at her side. ”And tell me Are, my claymore has a much further reach than your axe. Where is the most advantageous place for you to fight me? Up close, or far away?” she asked, trying to see if he had any battle instinct at all as it pertained to strategy.
Rawhide edged, linen clad, yet the pine yielded like straw as the blade bit a good foot into the shield. Still he stood strong, it wasn't until she yanked it free an errant step was thrown. Just enough to regain that low, steady stance. He should've been devastated, beaten, bruised, panting and sweating, but it only served to drive him on harder. Towards what he wasn't sure, but along the way he absorbed any lessons he could get.
Putting them to use though, a wholly different matter. Especially when the footwork was as sloppy as Are's. It didn't stop him from trying though, so with another few morsels of knowledge in mind he stepped inside the reach of that fearsome, gleaming blade. As quick as a fox he snapped out with his shield, doing what little he could to keep the longsword away as he closed the distance, aiming a quick flick at the forward leg.
Glimpses of fate bring light to your despair
Realise hope isn't short of your grasp
Resurrect every dream that you've buried alive
And never succumb to the war that you fight
Roana grinned when Are made a run for it, doing his best to get up close to her. That had been exactly what she had wanted him to do. Up close, his axe was more deadly than her claymore, which became difficult to maneuver at such close range. His shield hit the claymore near the base, shoving it back and way from the cobbler-turned-warrior. She watched as he swung out at her leg, moving it out of the way before he could connect, but far more interested in the way he carried the weapon.
”Alright, hold on a second. Let me see that axe Are, I think it might not be weighted right.” she said, calling a halt to the training session. It was a pretty rough looking axe, so she wouldn’t have been surprised to find it poorly weighted. But since Are was not used to wielding it as a weapon, she figured its defects might be hindering him more than was fair.
He could almost hear the cheering as he broke through, literally. Just a little polishing on the power and his axe would bite down with as much fury as one could expect from a blunted training weapon. As clumsy, awkward and over zealous the assault was, it was a a tangible improvement to just a few minutes before. A smile lighting up his face as he tumbled out of the bout, unscathed and unhumiliated, an exchange the budding warrior could be proud of.
His dreams of glamor as the Einhärjar sang his entry into the halls he quickly left behind as Roana raised the question of his choice of arms, or at least the quality of them. He looked down at the hatchet, nicks, scratches ,and flecks of rust speaking of a better times left behind. He gave it a tentative swing, actually feeling the heft of the thing and the might with which it lumbered through the air in lazy arcs.
He realized he'd been left staring at his axe as if it owed him answers, but handed his trainer the thing without question. To Are it was naught but another tool, splitting firewood, shields, or skulls surely didn't matter to an axe, at least not in the cobbler's mind. A skilled eye could see the glaring issues though. Blunted as it was, maybe to pass it up as a training weapon to the untrained wielder, to anyone with a lick of experience it was apparent on closer inspection that it was no such thing. A slim tool at best, a sad excuse for a weapon at worst.
"A good one still, no?" he asked and nodded, smile still lingering on his face after his little triumph. "Traded it for three pouches and a patch job, pretty cheap, but steel seems hard to come by." he added with a nervous laughter as that nagging feeling left him with just a tad of doubt.
Glimpses of fate bring light to your despair
Realise hope isn't short of your grasp
Resurrect every dream that you've buried alive
And never succumb to the war that you fight
She resisted a snicker as he stared at his axe dumbly, as if it might grow a mouth and explain what the issue was. Eventually he handed ir over, mumbling excuses about this and that. A frown curved her lips, brows furrowed as she examined the axe (closer to a hatchet though, really) then held it out straight to feel where it's balance was. After a few practice swings, including tossing it in the air to watch it spin and catching the handle with ease, she sighed.
"It'll do for now. But you'd best talk to Ronin at the Monster Hunters Guild to see if he knows where you might get a real axe." she said, shaking her head. It really was a pitiful thing. "In the meantime, attach some weights to the end of the handle. It's too forward weighted for you. You should be able to balance it on your hand. And sharpen and clean it up. A warrior takes pride in their weapons, even shoddy ones."
06-10-2019, 09:09 PM (This post was last modified: 06-10-2019, 09:09 PM by Are.)
Are
Her well chosen words cut him surprisingly deep. An apt description of himself and what little he'd manage to prove in the minutes that had passed. 'It'll do for now.' As quickly as it had singed his pride it made him laugh a little, had she not warned him of exactly that thought? To not sell oneself short and not detract from one's accomplishments, however humble they might be. A fine line between humility and self flagellation, one the ill-balanced, blunt axe never seem to notice before he passed it.
"Yes, I'll see to it immediately." so much he wanted to say, so many questions, but all swallowed down in favor of listening to one he trusted to know better. It was after all he who had wanted to learn how to fight, not Roana who'd asked for stitching lessons. "Might i ask, a real axe?" Are said, scratching his head quizzically and eying the apparently horrible excuse for a weapon he'd manage to acquire.
Glimpses of fate bring light to your despair
Realise hope isn't short of your grasp
Resurrect every dream that you've buried alive
And never succumb to the war that you fight
"A war axe." she clarifed. "What you've there is a functional axe. It's built for basic chores. Cutting firewood and the like. It's haft and blade haven't been constructed to withstand the force exerted in battle." she explained, pointing to all the places where the axe failed to meet parameters to make it battle worthy. "And with it being so terribly balanced, you'll fatigue more quickly, which is a sure death." she said
Roana drew her sword then and held in front of her, so one side faced her. She held out three fingers and placed the hilt across them, and almost against the laws of nature, the four foot blade balanced perfectly. "That it is balanced means no one stroke will take more energy than any other. I can recover as quickly as I can strike. It makes it more difficult to knock out of my hand, and it makes it easier to hit with accuracy." she said and grinned a bit.
