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!
Loren's declaration makes Amalia turn back, surprise and concern drawing her attention away from the Prince. "Is he okay?" the baker asks, torn between going to her friend and continuing her quest. Biting her lip, the girl glances toward the entrance, trying to decide the best course of action. She wants the summoner to try healing the creature, but she does not want her friend to be ill. Still she keeps her voice low and steady, trying not to alarm the Prince. "Maybe you could take him outside, then come back? I can try with my staff, too."
Turning back toward the darkness, the baker pointedly keeps her eyes downcast - a difficult task considering her curiosity, but one she commits to with all the ardency of her bleeding heart. How lonely it must be, to live in the dark, afraid of being seen. How many years has the creature been down here, abandoned by its creator, hidden from the sun? "I promise," Amalia avows softly. "My friend does, too."
Taking Ianto outside seemed like a bad idea to Loren. ”I don’t really want to leave him in the snow and the cold while he’s unconscious, especially while he’s a cardinal.” Still, getting him away from the Prince seemed imperative. ”But I’ll be right back.” Spotting Astra in the distance, the summoner walked over to her. He was relieved to find that the stench faded the farther he got from the Prince, and by the time he arrived at the luxere's side, it was gone. Kneeling down, he placed a hand under Astra’s chin. ”Can you guard Ianto for me? Please? I’ll be right back.” With that, he created a cloth, then wrapped the cardinal gently in it; it wouldn’t constrict Ianto’s movements if the man came too, but it would hopefully keep him warm. The luxere, for her part, looked between Loren and the cardinal, before she stepped gently over the fallen Attuned. Almost, it seemed like she understood what the summoner was asking of her.
That had to be enough: the Launceleyn hurried back to the baker’s and the Prince, not at all bothered when the light momentarily disappeared from around them. Loren was just in time to catch Amalia’s promise. ”I promise as well, yes.” The odor was back in full force, but the Launceleyn had endured far worse torments, even if most of the other foul scents had been illusory. Creating a blindfold, he wrapped it around his eyes, trusting the baker and the Prince not to let him get lost or do something stupid. Then again, he could always just follow his nose.
"K-k..eeep them c-c-closed" The Prince's voice warbled. Nervously, it sloshed back into the corner. Though it once had a reptilian-like body, now it was a sort of amorphous congealed goo that vaguely approximated a bloated frog. With too many eyes, nipples, and appendages, the Prince was a horrific sight to behold. Never mind the open festering wounds, the puss, or the stench that seemed to billow from it.
"Y--y-ou—hrrBLAAPPPP—ss-said fooOOOOOd?" It rumbled nervously, belching and farting in the middle of its question.
"Thank you." There is relief in her voice as she speaks to Loren, though she is still concerned for the well-being of the cardinal. By the time he returns Amalia has made her promise, and is slipping fingers beneath her scarf to draw it up over her nose. The smell is putrid, pungent, nearly overpowering, but Amalia uses every ounce of willpower she has to keep herself from reacting as it washes over her like a miasma wave.
Loren ties a cloth around his eyes, and Amalia turns hers to the ground. "I'm going to keep them open right now - just so I can grab the gifts I brought - then I'll close them. Okay?" Slowly, carefully, she pulls her pack off her back, laying the staff upon the ground and reaching in to secure her bounty. "I didn't know what you would like, so I brought a few things." One by one she sets them out: a loaf of bread, a small meat pie, and the paperwasp queen in its small cage.
Then the girl sinks down to the floor, heedless of the dirt, her onyx eyes falling closed as she tugs Loren gently to join her. It is for the Prince to come out now, to feel comfortable and approach. "Okay. Our eyes are closed."
Well, seeing as Loren had secured Ianto, made sure Astra was on guard duty, was currently blindfolded, and was desperately trying not to pass out from the stench, he didn’t know what else he could do to help the Prince. So the summoner just did his best to breathe shallowly through his mouth as Amalia did whatever it was she was doing (yes, she was narrating, but that wasn't super helpful under the circumstances). He did his best to look non threatening, which, given his gaunt form, the cloth around his eyes, and how weak he looked from the odor and his life in general, wasn’t too hard. Hopefully they could test the healing and get out before too long. However, he was sort of forced to go at the baker and the Prince’s pace, so the Launceleyn stood there silently.
At least he wouldn't have to watch the Prince try to eat. Small blessings and all that.
"ClloSED!" The Prince warbles with fright and despair rife in his squelchy voice.
The pair would hear the sniffling of the creature as if it was merely one giant nosed that was thick with mucus from a cold, nevertheless trying to sniff the smells of what Amalia had brought. Unseeing as they were, they'd not see the greenish amalgum of limbs and eyes as it peeked nervously around the corner, looking first at both of them and then the goodies on the ground. Farting nervously—the sound of which temporarily drew it back around the corner with a shriek of nerves—the Prince looked out again.
Slurping forward, a disgustingly moldy and puss-covered tongue slimed outwards, grabbing first the bread, then the meat pie, then the wasp.
It tried the bread first, dry-heaving it down without bothering to chew. Next was the meat pie, which it violently threw back up in a serious of belches and hiccups. Finally, there was the wasp. With a silent moment of reverence, the Prince slurped the paper queen and immediately moaned a content and sickly sound of pleasure.
Truth be told, Amalia is somewhat grateful her eyes are shut. The sounds the Prince make are illustration enough of how it might appear, and the creature's smell continues to overwhelm her, even through the cloth. Though... a thought strikes her suddenly, and the girl lets her face shift a little, avian feathers sprouting around the edges as she focuses on transforming her olfactory center to that of an owl.
She feels silly for not thinking of this before. Owls have no sense of smell.
Instantly feeling much easier, the girl sighs. Now, though, words are a little bit challenging, the partial shift leaving her voice rather hooty in quality. "Did you like it?" the girl asks hopefully, praying this will have created a bridge between them. "I can bring more, next time." Gesturing blindly back to where she thinks Loren is, Amalia reaches into her bag and pulls out the rose. "My friend would like to try using some magic. To see if it helps you. Is that alright? And I... I also brought you this flower." She offers it forward, eyes still shut, hopeful that it will do something.
And if not, well. At least it is a taste of the outside world.
Loren did not have the benefit of another form to protect him from the smell. However, he could get used to the odor: the sounds the Prince was making, however, were another thing entirely. Despite his best efforts, the Launceleyn could feel bile rising in his throat. Although he swallowed it down, he was spending as much effort trying to ignore the foul scents as he was ignoring the gross noises. Therefore he had very little focus to spare. When Amalia’s voice came out weirdly muffled, he frowned, but didn’t say anything. However, when she brought up his magic, he held his hands out to where he could hear and smell the Prince. Turns out the summoner didn’t need his eyes for this after all.
His fingers started glowing a soft-sky blue. While he wanted to get out of there as soon as possible, Loren figured it was best to let the Prince come to the Launceleyn. ”You’d have to touch me.” His voice came out as softly as the baker’s, and if it was a bit strained, well, the summoner was trying not to throw up or pass out like Ianto had.
10-01-2019, 05:27 PM (This post was last modified: 10-01-2019, 05:28 PM by Random Event.)
"Bb-b-bb-bug is —hrrrrrrrrrBLAP— goooooood." The Prince agrees with a muted and moist sound of appreciation bubbling from somewhere in its stomach(s). Skeptically it looks at the rose. It has been .... well, unimaginably long since it has seen a flower like it. With wide and numerous eyes, it gapes, slushing forward and reaching out with a tentative tongue to tug at the blossom and pull it from Amalia's hands. "F....food?" It asks, before oozing back into the corner at the mention of magic and being touched.
So the creature's tastes do run toward insects: valuable knowledge that the girl stows away. Though as it reaches for the rose and asks if it's food Amalia cannot help a slight chuckle, no shadow of mockery in the sound. "No- I mean, you could try to eat it." That would certainly be one way to get the flower into its system. "But, ah... It's to look at. And hold." She does not want to come right out and tell the poor thing to stab itself. It seems liable to spring at any moment, anyway.
Speaking of which- irritation crosses Amalia's face as Loren presumably attempts to touch the Prince, causing it to back away. "It's alright!" she says softly, hoping to ease its distress. "We don't have to do it yet. Maybe... Maybe you could tell us your name, for now? I'm Amalia. This is Loren."
10-01-2019, 11:00 PM (This post was last modified: 10-01-2019, 11:05 PM by Loren.)
there's light at the edge of the darkness
Alright, well, this wasn’t going to work if Loren couldn’t touch the Prince. The summoner let his hands drop and his healing magic fade away as Amalia kept speaking to the Prince. By that point, the Launceleyn was starting to feel a bit light-headed from the odor, so he took a few careful steps back (because blindfold and all that). After that still didn’t stop the nauseous and faint feeling rising within him, he created two nose plugs and jammed them as far up his nostrils as they would go. If he damaged something, he could always heal it, but there was a blessed relief. The plugs were an imperfect solution and some scent still made its way through, but it was better than nothing. However, he was still unhappy with this development, since he couldn't force the Prince to accept healing or touch. Given that, it was probably for the best that Amalia take the lead, since Loren wasn’t even sure he was even capable of speech at the moment.
Actually, he could muster up one whispered and strained word, hopefully just for Amalia. "Amulet." They'd have to find some way of getting the spark bird out safely, but maybe the Prince would accept an indirect touch.
10-02-2019, 07:19 PM (This post was last modified: 10-02-2019, 07:19 PM by Random Event.)
"L-u-ook?" So saying, the Prince stared expectantly if not skeptically, at the rose.
And of course, nothing happened.
Glancing up, or rather, sliding eye-stalks and wet wobbly eyes upwards, the Prince winced the way a bowl of jello might, recoiling with worry and anguish. "Nn-o!" It bellowed unhappily, its voice wavering and cracking and slurping all at once. "N-n-n-o h--hh-have—" Suddenly violently ill, which was to say completely regular for the Prince, bile shot from its many open orifices and wounds, sending it scuttling backwards a few feet and covering as many of its eyes as it could with gangly webbed hands.
"not have naAAAme!" Which they obviously knew and were just here to make fun of it, like everyone else. "G--g-g-o awaAAAy!"
That the Prince will not allow itself to be touched is definitely a problem, but Loren's solution makes her glance back with a noise of excitement. "Good idea," she says, voiced muffled, reaching into her bag and pulling out the simple crystal to hand back to the man.
So she does not see the telltale signs of illness in the creature, and is not ready when it vomits forward. Amalia stumbles back at the sound of flying bile, trying not to wince as a little catches in her hair. "I'm sorry!" the girl exclaims, turning her face away from the Prince and wiping the putrid stuff from her arm. "I didn't know. I'm sorry." How does she keep messing this up, setting it off and hurting the creature?
It took a bit of fumbling, considering he was blindfolded, but eventually Loren managed to take the crystal from Amalia in a bit of a daze. Even with the nose plugs, he was still getting enough of the smell—and all of the sounds—that he was feeling a bit woozy. However, as soon as he got it, he turned and lifted the blindfold. At that moment, though, he heard the sounds of the Prince being sick, and it almost prompted the Launceleyn to vomit as well.
Luckily, he managed to choke it down. ”You alright?” His voice came out in a nasally whisper. Seeing as she apologized and then asked the Prince if he wanted a name, the summoner had to assume she was probably okay. Focusing on the crystal, while they waited for a response, he wondered idly if they had to cast the Spark Bird first before moving the healing magic in it.
Well, better safe than sorry. ”I’ll be right back.” With that, he jogged down the corridor, passing Astra and Ianto (whom Loren checked on briefly) until the summoner turned a corner. Then, he called upon the Spark Bird: it flickered into existence, but he dismissed it almost immediately, then shoved as much healing magic as he could manage into the now empty crystal. That done, he moved back down the hallway, eyes downcast, until he got back to the baker. He’d attempt to tap her on the shoulder, and if she took the amulet back, he’d put his blindfold back on.
