Perhaps the closest equivalent of Caido’s golden retriever energy, Zavien has been the light in an otherwise patch of darkness. Always putting others first, working hard at being a Dragoon and helping Stormbreak thrive in kindness, and always being optimistic, Zavien’s outlook is refreshing and wonderful even with drama and terrible things occurring around him. He always has something helpful to say and a willingness to lend a hand that makes it so fun to keep up with him and we can’t wait to see what else comes his way.
Congratulations, Zavien!
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!
The day has arrived; a time for those who have trained, who have dedicated themselves to finally step into the unknown. To face trial and tribulation, to hone their skills against who knows what. It is high noon, and small orbs of light guide the way through a Greatwood painted with Leafchange colours (and tainted, increasingly, with signs of blight), all the way to the Drop.
Evidence of the rockslide is still apparent, sloping treacherously here and there , but to the other side of the Drop... are steps. Steps down, down, down, where the orbs of light continue to bob and weave and dance. Fae and Grounders alike mill around - though not together, of course. Or barely together.
Once you have descended, you find yourself in a low and spacious cavern. To the left lies one way and one way only - a Fae directs any observers to use this route as a way to watch what goes on.
To the right... a network of new tunnels. Each combatant is carefully manoeuvred so that they do not take the same route as one of the others... and eventually, each participant is faced with a door of carved, solid stone. At intervals, the doors slide up... and they are invited to step into the ring to meet their opponent.
The Cloister of Trials has begun!!
Each participant (i.e. whoever has completed the first part of the seasonal event) must post here first to indicate that they have entered the cloister.
Anyone else is also invited to join this SWE to use it as a spectator's thread! Please feel free to post and react to what you will see throughout the trials!
Some things you do just to see how bad they'll make you feel
Sometimes you try to freeze time 'til the slots are a blur of spinning wheels
Adam was very excited. He had no idea what these trials were going to involve, but they sounded like a chance to show off. Already, without knowing the prize or the competition, he fantasised about winning as he waltzed into the woods.
Being in the drop brought forth some...not great memories, but at least there were enough humans here this time he felt confident that he might get out in good time. With Coffee gliding alongside him and his guns on his hips, he felt safe enough. If that didn't work, there was always the emergency dagger in his boot (which, like everything else he owned, had been personally engraved and barely used).
He was taken down a tunnel and faced a door - he didn't know what he was preparing for, but it felt big. Dancing from foot to foot, he whispered encouragment to himself and waited for the door to open.
But I am just a broken machine
And I do things that I don't really mean
With Bobi at her heel, the Launceleyn-queen all but danced down the stairs. She didn't faulter at all as she slunk into her tunnel. There was an innuendo here she was just dying to make, but until she learned who her opponent was, she let it linger like ice on the tip of her tongue.
Bobi, feeling the tug of adrenaline, prowled around the not-teenager's heels. What she would be able to offer, she hadn't decided yet. Whether she would just be a pair of eyes or add her own claws to the mix was anyone's guess.
-500 MP Receive a custom item (Accepted only)
-500 MP Receive a custom item (Accepted only)
Type: Grey | Style: Offensive | Level: Basic
Tentacle Rod | An enchanted rod ending in three writhing tentacles. Outside of combat, the tentacles have a tend
Receive a custom item (Accepted only)
Skyboat | A small schooner capable of travelling to adjacent boards. Travels at the same speed as a wagon/pleasure boat.
Skip a levelling requirement (100x the requirement level. Skipping a requirement at level 2 costs 200, at level 10 costs 1000)
Skipping 1 x level 6 requirement for 600MP
Skip a levelling requirement (100x the requirement level. Skipping a requirement at level 2 costs 200, at level 10 costs 1000).
Skipping for a Level 10 requirement.
Ronin tried to avoid looking at the signs of blight upon the Greatwood as he headed solemnly down into the belly of the cloister. As cheerful as it seemed to be - an air of anticipation, of wonder, of sport - he found it hard to get his head in the game at first. Would he end up like those trees in the end? Blackened, wilted, rotten on the inside? Would he have done so much only to be killed by a pestilence they didn't understand.
The cloister encased him and he frowned, scrubbing at his eyes to get his thoughts straight. And as he was faced with a dead end and a stone door, he rolled his shoulders, clenched his fists and warmed himself up. When the door opened, he vowed to be ready.
The sun was high but the trees provided an ample canopy of shade to walk beneath, and so Lucas prowled in peace. Of all who were welcome in the Greatwood (and it still made him chuckle to say the name) the Ascended were still not included - and yet here they were, joining in a tournament to become its fucking guardian. Hilarious.
Descending into the shadows, he followed the route indicated for him and arched an eyebrow as he was eventually faced with a stone door. There was light to see by but his Ascended eyes still glinted as they cut through the shadier parts of the route. Reaching out, he pushed at the door, wondering what was supposed to happen next.
after all is said and done you're just a carnivore
let you in and drink my blood you're nothing but a monster
Wessex is… cloaked wary. Fully prepared, but fucking wary. Armed to the teeth (literally), filled with Edy’s magic, and ready to rumble, she can’t help but cast an eye and ear around, trying to catch tidbits of conversation. Anything, really. But the Fae keep themselves removed, and that, too, gives the Ascended Queen an uneasy feeling.
Nevertheless, down she goes, past the point where they’d rescued the group from the rockslide. She tucks her bow and quiver in close, pats all the places to double check that they’re filled with blades of various sizes. Big knife, little knife, throwing knife. Rope stayed at home. Silently following the Fae’s directions to the network of tunnels, she files into her slot, eyes adjusting easily despite the offered lights.
He came and he came with everything he had. Armed and armored he had arrived back at the place that had given him so much grief. Third time's the charm, as they say. At least he came by his own volition, and for no one but himself. Not by the whim of the gods, for respect of his peers, or even because of dire necessity. No, Are was in it just for himself for a change.
Emerging a victor crowned by the falling oak leaves or a hero carried by Valkyrjor to his rightful place by the sides of gods, of old or new, from a world long gone or his new home he would only find out one way. No matter the outcome he was content in knowing it was all by his own hand, at last his fate was all his.
Standing before the door to the unknown he made sure every strapped was taught and every piece sat just as they should. The days of the cobbler was gone, in his stead stood a warrior on the brink of a new life, or on the brink to a great abyss.
Mastered Item:
Type: Light | Style: Other | Level: Mastered
La Verbena | A personal skyboat (schooner) capable of travelling at 2x wagon speeds over most types of terrain. Can accommodate 2 people onboard during flight.
Between every other event circumventing the world, he’d almost forgotten about the one he’d signed up for. It seemed almost miniscule in effect, but he rendered himself ready regardless; taking to the autumn chill with his collection of swords and knives on his belt, invocations and enchantments simmering in his skin. A beast, a warrior, a monster, eager and fervent for the chaos, the unknown, to come their way – used to it, familiar with its potency, with its precision, with its art.
Zuriel stepped beside him as they traced grounds he’d known what felt like months before, the rockslide evident along the Drop, catering to hollowed hell and bits of treacherous memories scathing within, how he’d nearly died there too – a pattern he really should’ve ceased repeating so often.
They proceeded down and down, into a cavern, and the splintering images of the past slid against his spine. He clenched his jaw, but said, uttered nothing; the unicorn already knew what was in his head. She said naught either, two beings tracing over a network of sentiments, nuances, and possibilities. The latter was endless and eternal. Then they maneuvered in front of a stone door, carved, sculpted, shaped like old ruins and quiet devastation – and he wondered if this was to be a colosseum, a place where everyone was entertained by whatever came upon them, by whatever menace or might shattered the realm.
It was like a battlefield. He could hear his heart hammering into drum beats and havoc. He could feel his predilections simmering, seething, smoldering between veins, marrow, and bone. The infidel inhaled one sharpened breath, glanced to Zuriel, and nodded as the aperture beckoned, sliding up, up, up, revealing everything and nothing all at once.