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!
11-17-2019, 07:47 PM (This post was last modified: 11-17-2019, 11:46 PM by Deimos.)
Deimos
THE RESURRECTED SWORD
How did you survive? they ask
How long did you suffer?
how dark did they tint your dreams?
Between LongNight, Roana’s arrest, and a turbulent accord of so many other things, the establishment of a military training area and barracks had been largely overlooked by the General. For the most part, his priorities had been towards protecting the general public, ensuring adequate provisions and preparations for LongNight’s claws, and hadn’t seen much of a need for them – not when it’d just been Loren and himself, the militia, the minute men, clambering together in strength and accord.
But other things loomed and beckoned, and the notion of recruiting had begun. Zariah’s continued existence only instigated and agitated, rankled at senses, and before anything could become so overwhelming and overbearing, they might just need to be trained, honed, and ready. For anyone. For anything.
The designated building for the task sat primarily next to the ruins of the Monster Hunter’s Guild – their untouched, unburnt edges of the training grounds still presiding, still there, ghosts that would eventually be rebuilt from the ashes and embers too. Because that was how the world worked nowadays – they flickered, they fell, they plummeted, and then they rose – and it was time to face the sun with sedition in the air and fire in their souls.
Upon inspection, it was large enough to house several members of the military (though he had no intentions of staying and using it as a domicile, he’d ensure it was comfortable for whoever wished it), an armory room, and a meeting area for plans, for machinations, for anything required. The fields out back could easily be constructed into an area for practice, drills, and routines, some amount of discipline melded into the void.
The Sword already taken some portions of the wood they’d refurbished from the Guild’s debris, leaving the rest for Kiada’s future maneuvers, and moved it inside – amongst other tools they’d require, and remaining fully capable of creating whatever means and measures left out. Then, once he’d posted the notice, he gathered other things along the entryway, the bright spring sunshine a halcyon, providential conviction on stone and timber.
--
Open PQ to make/establish a military barracks and training grounds! Thank you for anyone willing to come!
11-17-2019, 10:06 PM (This post was last modified: 11-17-2019, 11:48 PM by Jigano.)
Jigano had been here before, to help Ronin with the training grounds once upon a time. Remi and Are had been there as well that day, though the alchemist had been mostly playing with his daughter while the other three had sorted and repaired weapons, created pells, and smoothed the ground to an even hardpack for drills and sparring. It seemed only right that he continue to assist, even if things had changed so drastically since those easier days, before Queens in succession and blights and murdered portal guardians had changed the rules.
Then, too, it was a strange truth that no matter where he and Deimos were in their up-and-down relationship that they always swallowed their respective pride enough to show up and help each other out with community projects. Why should this be any different?
So it was that Jigano arrived in plain, rugged work clothes, with Isuma on his shoulder. The gryphon chirruped a bright greeting to the General, while Jigano offered a cordial nod. "Morning, General," he said, observing the courtesies with a tired smile. "What can I do to help?"
when the world turns upside down, you should blame it on me
In the beginning, he’d been born to be a soldier. A fighter, an endless war of writing and enforcing laws for the country, to get down into the thick of it and tear apart the signs of a rebellion. It had not lasted long, not when he’d splintered, broken apart at the seams, and became the exact opposite of what they had wanted him to be.
But somewhere within there, he’s still a soldier in a sense. So when he reads the notice board and finds a party gathering to build a barracks, well, he’s willing to help. Once more to shave off that hidden regret and shame at having lost Lusea, to keep his mind away from it if only for a time.
That and he should probably get to know Deimos as well. It seemed he was pretty involved with everything nowadays, and it’s better to have more acquaintances than truly necessary; so he comes to the Sword’s aid. Dressed in pants and a short sleeved shirt, he nods to Jigano upon his approach before his gaze lands on Deimos, his own quiet nod offered.
An extra set of hands to help.
sunjata
Coding base by Odd!
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Helping out was the least Oliver could do, really. He wanted to show others he was useful, that he could be trusted or looked to for guidance. Maybe his intentions were a small bit narcissistic, but at least he was doing good deeds at the same time?
He had grown used to frequently checking the Notice Boards, eager to see, or hear, any gossip or see what needed to be done. The moment he saw that Deimos had posted something, his attention was immediately hooked. His mind reflected back to times where he was told that he could train to become better, learn how to protect himself and others. What better way to achieve this than to help create the training grounds? Without really thinking too much about it, Oliver decided that he would help out.
When he had arrived, three figures were gathered together, all that he recognized. This is one of those moments where being short sucked, because all of the men before him towered over his small frame.
Walking up, Oliver smiled at the three of them. Good thing they were all people he felt comfortable with, especially Sunjata. It had been a while since he had seen the man. Their last conversation was a very drunk one. Hello Jigano, Sunjata." He turned to the two and nodded in greeting. Then, he turned to face Deimos. "Here to help however I can."
They assembled rather quickly, and before long he had three before him: Jigano, because they always seemed to trade assistance, carefully neutral, an arch to his brow at the address, an extended nod to the griffin; no Zuriel in sight today to appease or entertain. The next, one he could only recall as Sunjata (amidst Hotaru’s shop; the flirtation evident, another fool destined to fall into her web, or someone who could rise above – best of luck to him), and then Oliver, recently met within the folds of the Temple, after their sanctuary had been desecrated. He made no mention of the latter, conforming to his stoic, reserved status, though allowing the briefest of smiles to emerge, acknowledging their presence, their willingness to help. “Thank you for coming,” and then he stepped within, extending the invitation into the stone wares and fissuring elements.
It needed some help.
“I would like to have a planning room, a dormitory of sorts, training grounds, and a place for armory and munitions.” He allowed them a moment to glance beyond the entrance, and into the extended front portion, where there could’ve been an elongated table, maps, and any other warrior tactics unfolded - currently, carefully blank and empty. Further back, there’d be the potential for beds and places for any soldiers to reside, except it was currently full of broken things, and another corridor leading to a wide open space for weapon purposes. The training grounds, likely to be shared with the future Monster Hunter’s Guild, was littered with all kinds of refuse, weeds, and overgrown shambles. Nothing befitting a place to practice. “This room has leaking windows that should be replaced,” his gaze flickered to the glass panes off to the side he’d already made to suit the purpose. “The training grounds are covered in weeds and other debris.” He paused, thoughts causing the slightest smirk to any attuned connections, the potential for devilry and vehemence. “And I would like assistance in eliminating the rat infestation in the armory.”
--
You guys rock! Take your pick!
One person to replace the windows!
One person to rid the debris/weeds/whatever else you find in the training grounds!
One person to help Deimos murder rats!
- until you had blood glistening on your teeth
- until your suffering paled in comparison to their own
- until you learned to enjoy the sounds of screams
Jigano gave nods and welcome smiles to Sunjata and Oliver, tired though he was and much as it showed. He was sincerely glad to see them both. "Hello, Oliver," he murmured, Isuma chirruping a curious greeting as well before Deimos explained the machinations that were stirring in his devious mind for turning the shell of an abandoned building into the beating heart of the Settlement's defenses. Jigano listened intently, considering the options and his own talents for what the best fit would be.
He had no skill with windows or their repair, but he perked up at the mention of training grounds. That he had done before, and knew what would be needed if Deimos followed Ronin's thoughts on the matter. Then there were the rats... but he remembered the General's eagle form, and slanted an amused glance to Sunjata, thinking of the panther he'd seen amid the mud recently. A fearsome pair, and they'd both probably enjoy the chance to stretch their talons and let their predatory instincts come to the fore for a bit.
"I'll take the training grounds," he offered with a grin towards Sunjata, as the other man could probably guess the bard's affinity for playing in the dirt. With a wave to those gathered he made his way outside to look around the open - but not empty - yard. More of a field, really, given its size, and he nodded to himself as he flexed his hands and reached for the new well of magic within him, gathering the green and brown threads of his earth magic - sparkling, thrumming with energy - and knelt to lay his hands against the earth.
He could give plants life, encourage them to grow, heal them of damage... but killing them? That was beyond his power. What he could do, however, was to seek out the life-essence of the plants and punch small spires of earth up beneath the rootballs of the weeds, lifting them free of the ground and up to a comfortable waist-height so he could easily pluck them into a burlap sack. Larger, inorganic debris he had to pick up the old-fashioned way, and in truth it took as much effort to lift the weeds up by magic as it would have to dig them out by hand, but each time he used his magic he grew more comfortable and proficient with it, and Jigano knew he could use the practice.
when the world turns upside down, you should blame it on me
Another arrives, and Sunjata’s gaze slips toward Oliver with a smile of greeting, a nod of his head. “Hey Ollie.” A quiet rumble of greeting, before the smile fades and he focuses on following Deimos and the rest of them to the inside of the building, to get a lay of the land, an idea of where to start. And well, all the options sound enticing, but one more than the others.
He catches Jigano’s eye briefly with a nod after Jigano mentions he’ll take the fields, a memory of mud and domiciles, the rest of it a bit of a blur in the end. But he plans on taking out some of the frustration with the rats, and he steps up beside Deimos toward the direction of the room with a bright smirk. “Ill help with the rats.” An accented rumble before he nods to Oliver, seems as though the blond man can handle the windows on his own.
And he shifts no to his panther form, dark black fur spotted with hints of gold and bronze deep within his fur glinting in the light as he makes his way to the room, opening it with a shoulder and crouching down to survey for any movement. He spots it in the corner and launches, hoping perhaps if he corals them, herds then, Deimos can figure out what to do with them.
If he had his choice he’d definitely just squish them and call it a day.
sunjata
Coding base by Odd!
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
To hear a response from the both of them earned a smile from Oliver, happy that the two had said at least something to him. They couldn't really talk, though, there were tasks to be done.
Soon, Deimos took control and started giving out orders. Thankfully, Sunjata took up the worst of the jobs. Oliver was fine with the idea of killing the rats, but he didn't feel like he had the heart to actually kill them himself. Not yet, at least. He had never killed something in his entire life. That left the other two jobs, one of which was taken up by Jigano. Oliver was personally fine with taking up either of them so he didn't mind really what he ended up with. "I'll work on the windows, then." He mostly said it to himself since, well, Deimos probably already figured that out.
So off he went. He headed over to the windows and started to work on removing the ones that were still there. He tried his best to be careful to avoid cutting himself, but that was a bit hard considering he hadn't exactly put on gloves-
Whoops...?
Oliver starts to remove the busted up windows! And of course, he was an idiot and forgot to put on gloves.
Tasks chosen and applied, the Sword set about his own path, following Sunjata – altering his form, silver fur, paws, and claws replacing any other human qualities. Predatory instinct seemed to hone in on both of them – Hotaru’s latest fling becoming a panther – as they threaded through the shadows. At least they’d have the Attuned bond for any contemplations or notions, and a grumble was sent forth. We can corner them, once they’d managed to ascertain locations, his nose in the air, then to the floor, sniffing and sorting out particular rodent scents. He extended one paw beneath an old desk, listening to the squeak, relishing the notions of violence and vehemence; pervading from his talons, from his presence, from his entity. Then a multitude of them scurried from one wall to the next, attempting to dodge claws, one defiant little fiend rampaging along Sunjata’s left front paw, trying to dig into flesh and fur and tear something. Deimos leapt upon a small gathering and punctured, pierced a few, but the number was larger than he’d accounted for.
While Jigano took the training grounds and the overrun fields, things seemed to be going fine. Several weeds automatically succumbed, too weak, too fragile, with the new coming of spring, not yet immersed into their fortifications and roots, easily disassembled and placed into his bag. However, while his magic stirred up the earth, it also roused and incited other things within the waking loam: and a potent, angry, infuriated nest of underground wasps began to rise from their disturbed nest, intent on destruction, mayhem, and ridding themselves of the latest predator.
Oliver, unfortunately, forgot to put on a pair of gloves – which could be found lying nearby, amongst the assemblage of other tools. For the most part, he was successful, taking out the useless panes, and placing them down nearby (the glass could be salvaged, surely). His luck wouldn’t prevail, however, and after removing one of the last remaining windows, one slipped, incidentally cutting him. Perhaps he could find some bandages tucked along the tools too?
--
Our dice rolls were very not good, fam.
What will you do next? No post order!
- until you had blood glistening on your teeth
- until your suffering paled in comparison to their own
- until you learned to enjoy the sounds of screams
when the world turns upside down, you should blame it on me
It seems Deimos is full of surprises as well, as Sunjata shifts to his feline form, so too does the Sword. An ear flicking toward Deimos with an amused pulse down the bond. I have to say, I’m not used to being shorter than anyone else. A humored jest, glancing up at the tiger with silver eyes before they set to work. His eyes seek out motion while Deimos scents the air and the floors, paw stretched out to start the flurry of the many, many, rats, that Sunjata’s ears pin and a growl leaves his throat.
Ah, fok A rat latches onto his paw and he aims his jaw straight down to grasp it, biting with strong jaws to fling the creature from his dark paw, aiming to toss it to a corner as well — a warning for the others. And he springs into action again, hopping over the stream of rats to the other side to block them off, prowling closer to hopefully corral them into the corner with Deimos.
sunjata
Coding base by Odd!
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
He could hear the singing of tiny insect minds at the edges of his own, his Beastmaster ability letting him communciate even with such alien consciousnesses. Gentle Remi would have found a way to calm the nest and move it unharmed to a new location where they could live in peace, Jigano thought with a pang. The alchemist was a far more accomplished mage than he was, however. He was learning the extent of his power, but given only a few seconds to react he responded instinctively with force rather than finesse.
Upgraded earth magic crashed down upon the nest, sealing its exits first before the ground shook and collapsed inwards to crush the aggressive pests before they could escape to claim their vengeance. They couldn't remain where they were, of course; the chance of the militia getting stung while training was too great, so though he did it reluctantly the bard made his choice swiftly and acted on it, bringing death within the earth to the buzzing bastards.
He danced back and away from the ones that had escaped before he'd realized his danger, teeth bared in concentration as he reached out with his Beastmaster ability to compel up to twenty of the wasps that had escaped to defend him from their brethren. When only those he controlled remained flying he took a breath and then sent them on their way, ordering them to fly to the Woodlands and find a new hive to join.
Things were going great. Replacing windows wasn't half bad of a thing to do, really. The glass was pretty damn easy to remove, so easy that he ended up humming to himself. What was he humming? A little song he had heard from someone before, but it wasn't too important who had taught him the song.
Well, things WERE going great until a stupid fucking piece of glass cut him. Wincing, Oliver grasped tightly onto the glass with his hand that wasn't cut, letting out a very loud "FUCK" in response. Surely, many people had heard it. Setting the glass down on the ground close to him, he made his way over to the pile of materials. No way was he going to bother everyone else with their own more important shit. Reaching around for stuff with his non-cut hand, he winced at the stinging sensation. Well, there goes his pretty clothes, probably with blood all over them.
Eventually, he did find some bandages and wrapped his hand up. It wasn't much, but it would certainly stop the bleeding for now, didn't mean it wasn't still annoying as hell to deal with. Grabbing the new panes, he walked back over to his work and started to place the new glass into the frames, still not wearing gloves.
Idiot.
Oliver bandaged his hand back up and resumed work, placing new glass into the frames.
A snort billowed through their connection, like a ricocheting rumble, meant to be inveigled amongst humor, despite the ravenous, rapacious, avaricious movements and motions rampaging through his predator skin. Nor am I. On this occasion, it’d only been Sunjata, scarcely an inch over his prominent height (so they were like two towers, two monoliths; would’ve likened it to the guards of the Basin, but no one in this midst would understand, so it was left unsaid). Thereafter, it likely didn’t matter anyway – both skilled enough to assemble their vehement tactics into the room, and after a while, all the rats within the room had been cornered, their sniveling, squealing, squeaking pleas heard on deaf ears. Deimos struck with paws, claws, and teeth, finding no appeal worthwhile to his ears, a murderous onslaught felt and chiseled deep within his bones, a whirlwind of infernal exposition and acrimony; fine undulations of nefarious properties he hadn’t been able to conjure or summon in a long while. The immorality chased and heightened, loomed and presided, until there was a collection of rats in his mouth, and he maneuvered out of the sanction, carrying them outside, along the front, where they could dispose of them later. All right? he conjured through the connection too, remembering the brief outcry as the rat latched onto paws.
The wasps’ irritation was somewhat shortlived (please get the joke), their nest crushed beneath the weight of the reconfigured earth. However, despite the compelling, the power, the notions of Beastmaster abilities, there were still some contemptuous, eye-for-an-eye wasps rising from their ire, intending to strike, to pummel, to sting, before they were whisked away. Seeking to avenge their fallen brethren, they aimed to scorch along his neck, his arms, his face, anywhere they could – before finally fleeing into the ether. With their fleeing intonations, Jigano would be free to either find some ointment or meander back inside for further directions – unless he thought there was some other debris that needed tending.
Oh, Oliver – who still somehow didn’t pick up the gloves – was at least entirely successful in this attempt, the windows replaced with a firm, although bandaged, hand.
Thereafter, Deimos altered once more, shifting back, sticking his head out of the confines, looking for Jigano, and then proffering further instructions – his eyes sliding over stings and cuts with the briefest shake of his head, the mildest touch of concern and bewilderment. “Now that we have cleared the room of rats, I would like to move the remaining furniture out of there.” Then it could be successfully converted into its newest purpose. “We also need to assemble some new targets out on the training grounds, and the doors need some work.” The apertures were warped, but there were some new boards nearby to assist in the repairs.
--
Hey successful rolls this time!
Pick your next task and get started again – Deimos will be moving furniture!
One person to help move furniture, one person to help assemble targets (you can find any materials you want outside), and the doors need to be replaced.
- until you had blood glistening on your teeth
- until your suffering paled in comparison to their own
- until you learned to enjoy the sounds of screams
He might not have had Loren’s breadth of talent for Healing, but Jigano was far from powerless. Though his ability to command the beasts away from him didn’t seem to work, his body compensated swiftly, plucking the golden threads of his healing magic and sending the energy washing through him to soothe and ease away the stings until the wasps were dead or fled. The memory of the pain lingered, however, and he grimaced as he went back to his previous task, this time using his magic to uproot the plants rather then the earth around them and capturing them in his bag. By the time Deimos peered out the bard had managed to clean away the overgrowth and the ground was even and clear, ready for the tread of marching feet.
The list of tasks to come sounded a bit easier, though Jigano was still far from comfortable with carpentry. His lean frame hid more muscle than he had ever known before, though, working on Rory’s farm having toughened him considerably over the seasons, and he gave the General a lopsided smile. ”I can lift and carry with you,” he offered cheerfully, following the tall man (but not quite the tallest in the room for once) to begin the task of shifting the chairs and tables, dressers and couches out into the yard. Smaller items were easy enough, but he was willing to follow Deimos’s direction when it came to the larger, more awkward ones that required two people to life and maneuver around corners and through doors.
