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!
01-11-2020, 06:43 PM (This post was last modified: 01-13-2020, 01:14 PM by Zariah.)
ZARIAH
The time had come. The building had been constructed. Now all that was left were finishing touches.
The building itself reflected the grandeur of the Palace proper, to which it was connected through various walkways on different levels. Strategically so, during the worst of the blizzards it allowed more space for those seeking refuge, as well as being strategically beneficial for those with magical power to be so closely connected with the political elite of the Citadel. Practical and tactical - a deadly combination. But as of yet, the towering building of glass, stone, ice, and snow remained mostly empty, and needed to be filled and prepped for classes and mages-in-residence to move in.
After placing a note on the Notice Board, Zariah waited, hoping some of those who followed her would appear to put the final touches in place.
Help Zariah build the Halo Magic School (and help Grant think of a cooler name please)!
A magic school. Well that was something Weaver found immensely interesting. Founded by some upset Outlander pretending to be a Halovian, even more interesting. Honestly, she was open to giving them a chance. It could be good for Halo; new ideas, new faces. It could also be bad for Halo; new ideas, new faces. She wouldn’t pass judgment until it was due.
She usually ignored notices on the board. Well, not ignored, but rather didn’t respond to. She reads them, of course, because she didn’t want to live under a rock and all that. This notice though, well it peaked her interest. She wanted to meet the Archmage, wanted to work on her own damn magic skills, and wanted to know what they had in store for Halo.
So she comes, which feels vastly weird to her but she is a selfish creature in many ways (and sometimes not, but that side of her was harder to find), and she has many reasons to be here. She finds a girl, a rather young looking thing (too young) at the building that was to be the school. She is not tall but built formidably, unlike Weaver, though Weaver is armed to the teeth as usual.
”You the one in charge of the school?” she asks. Her voice is light, her expression friendly enough. ”I’m here to help. Weaver.” The statement is true. She is here to help. For all her reasons to be here, she doesn’t mind the work. Besides, a magic school I’m Halo would be a good thing for them.
weaver
-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --
"I am glad to see this is finally getting off the ground." Neron's voice rang out through the chilly air as he approached the new offshoot from the palace. The Warden was dressed in his customary black, something he had finally felt the benefit of when visiting the Hollowed Grounds, but seeming nonetheless out of place in the white landscape of Halo. Giving a polite nod to Zariah and Weaver both, he stood to attention and awaited the Archmage's instructions.
Did he follow Zariah? Once upon a time, perhaps. But now? Well, Halo might have been freezing cold, but it had started a fire in him that he was not keen to allow to blow out.
Wavering back and forth for some time, weighing her options and the risks, she had finally decided, and made her way through the portal, into Halo. It was not an easy journey to make, and Maea knew she would be traveling back and forth quite extensively for some time to come, but she told herself that it would be worth it in the end. Zariah's offer was simply too good to be passed up on. She was sure some of her friends would have objections, when they inevitably found out, so for the time being she had decided to tell no one.
Arriving at the designated spot on time, she studied the others present with quiet curiosity. She did not know their faces, was not aware of titles or positions yet, but offered polite greetings and introductions to both all the same. Turning to the Archmage, Maea sought her gaze to hold it, a half smile on her lips.
"In the end I decided I was too curious to stay away. I hope you are going to live up to all those things you bragged about, teacher." She had come ready to work, train and learn, and settled in to wait for instructions.
lay your hands on me
one last time
MAEA
♦ Violence, magic, thievery is permitted with Maea at all times. DM me if you have any ideas ♦
Peter was not necessarily late, but he was the last one to arrive, and that in itself was an egregious misstep. He dipped his head to both Zariah and Neron, hesitating for a moment as he tried to work out who should come first, before eventually deciding on Zariah, hoping this wasn't another mistake. Only then did he offer a glance around at the other's gathered, smiling at Maea and simply nodding at the other, the only person he didn't know.
The building itself was beautiful, not that Peter had ever been the type to appreciate architecture. He was mostly trying to visualise the building as it would be completed, filled with students and teachers and... whatever else a school entailed. He was less than sure. After he had had his moment to look around, he turned back to Zariah, awaiting instructions.
PET
he is trying to tell you that there is some sort of shining star now buried deep inside him and he has to dig it out with a knife.
01-13-2020, 02:52 PM (This post was last modified: 01-13-2020, 02:52 PM by Zariah.)
ZARIAH
Zariah glanced as an unknown face appeared. Clearly Halovian by her garb and mannerism. Though the Archmage was indeed young, she held herself with the stature and authority of one well acquainted with power (as if the six inch heels didn't say that alone). Still, she offered the woman a hint of a smile and slight nod. "Indeed, I am. Zariah Launceleyn. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Weaver." she said, dulcet tones as velvety and sultry as ever.
Then of course, the Warden himself arrived, wearing all black just as she did. "You speak as though you have not been apprised of the construction process every step of the way." she said with a smirk. But of course, she would be greatful for his assistance. Maea shortly followed, and frankly she was surprised to see her. But the pale girl did seem to fit in with the landscape of Halo far more than the Hollowed Grounds. "I assure you, I will not disappoint." she said. Then came Peter, and she nodded to him in return, glad he had shown up.
"Let's get started then, shall we?" she said, glancing over the group as a whole, assessing the various skills of those assembled, divvying out who would be best doing what. "Weaver there is a pile of memory snow that keeps rebuilding itself outside the door to the roof training area. Relocate that elsewhere." she said. She didn't know her magical abilities, but if anyone knew how to deal with memory snow, it was a Halovian. "Neron if you could set up the training area on the roof and on the top floor." she said, knowing he would know what she'd expect. They had the same training themselves after all. "Maea on the third floor there are various rooms for travelling students. Arrange those accordingly, everything you need will be there." she said, figuring the outsider would have the best thoughts on what a home away from home ought to be. "Peter arrange the classroom and library on the second floor."
Happy to see at least one familiar face in this sea of strangers, Maea took the time to say a proper hello to Peter once the assignments had been handed out. But she was not here to waste time, so without getting deeper into any lengthy conversations she headed off to do as she was bid.
Admiring the architechture of the building as she made her way up to the third floor, Maea did indeed find materials littering the corridor. Beds, shelves, wardrobes and small necessaries stood in a jumbled heap just waiting to be placed out. Looking it all over, she considered the amount of rooms and the things she'd been given to work with, and quickly began to plan where to place each thing. The rooms were small but not cramped, and as she dragged furniture - by hand mostly, but occaasionally taking the aid of her telekinesis when she could - Maea made sure each had a sleeping space, somewhere to put away belongings, a table or desk for study, and shelves to store books and other material when not in use.
It was hard work, and heavy, but it was simple enough not to require too much thought. She sang to herself as she went, little tunes of home and adventure in varying degrees of cheerfulness. The beautiful walls of glass, ice and snow caught her voice and amplified it, throwing it back to her in an echo; she paid it no heed, just smiled and carried on.
---
Maea arranges furniture into the rooms, singing as she works.
lay your hands on me
one last time
MAEA
♦ Violence, magic, thievery is permitted with Maea at all times. DM me if you have any ideas ♦
As the tasks are handed out, and his near tardiness thankfully not brought up for the moment, Peter is silent, at attention. The stiffness is broken when he greets Maea properly, an easy smile on his face as he talks to his friend. They are not here to socialize though, and before long Peter is hurrying to the second floor, taking stock of what he has to work with.
Before he moves anything, he tries to make some kind of plan for what will go where. Peter is well aware of the fact that he is not the strongest person out there, so he will need to go about arranging things strategically. Tables were dragged into a rough horseshoe shape, the ground beneath them wetting and freezing as he needed it to to make the task easier. A desk dragged to the mouth of the horseshoe finished off the classroom section for now, though it still needed chairs, and maybe a little more cleaning up.
The library required a little more thought, not only because the shelves were far larger and more unwieldy. But he figured out a pattern for them before long, one that kept the space open enough to keep an eye on whoever was among the shelves, but still Foster a sense of privacy. Again, the ground beneath the shelves grew wet and icy and he needed it, though he was still red and uncomfortably warm (and as soon as the sweat dried, uncomfortably cold) in the chill of the soon to be school. Hopefully though, it would be worth it, and Zariah would approve of his work.
PET
he is trying to tell you that there is some sort of shining star now buried deep inside him and he has to dig it out with a knife.
01-14-2020, 06:41 AM (This post was last modified: 01-14-2020, 06:42 AM by Neron.)
the hailstorm
Wasting little time with formalities and greetings, the Warden went straight to work as well. Zariah was right - he knew well what a training area fit for a mage ought to look like, and he was not disappointed to find much of what he needed already in place on the top floor. This he arranged into areas for target practice, for meditation under duress, for pain and learning from it. As he worked he was aware of a strange and ethereal song echoing through the building, but, assuming it to be some trick of the building, he thought little of it.
The rooftop was his main goal. Dispersing the memory snow in front of the door and leaving it to Weaver to dispose of for good, Neron headed up into the biting cold and buffeting winds. With a little concentration, he began to warp and change the ice around him, fashioning a freezing arena where Abandoned could practice combat against... well, each other. Ensuring there were plenty of chunks of ice to provide cover (and to aim at), Neron stood back to appraise his work and was pleased.
Neron arranges the top floor into a traditional training area to practice aim, concentration and conjuration, and creates an icy battle arena on the rooftop.
Zariah introduces herself, another person that uses a last name as if Weaver might care. Granted, it is a last name that imparts meaning, and she finds herself tucking that bit of information away for later as more come, and Zariah gives them tasks. Weaver tucks their names away as well as Zariah uses them, particularly Neron because she knows that name. So that’s their new Warden. She would have spent more time appraising him if she wasn’t in company that she wasn’t trying to piss off. This school is important to her even if she cannot help but be uncertain about so many outlanders in her home. To her credit though, she has not passed judgment one way or another, giving them time to earn the judgment. She is willing to give chances.
Of course she is assigned to the worst task of solving the problem of memory snow. It is the worst task only in so much as it would be the coldest task, but she realizes that of all of them she is best equipped to deal with this problem. Weaver has grown up with memory snow that often liked to sit in front of her door or block an important walkway through the streets. As children, she and Kobin would build things out of memory snow. It liked to have shape, she’d learned, and would hold that shape rather easily and stay out of the way.
She heads up the stairs, pushing her way through the door where the snow has decided to be inconvenient. “Well hello snow,” she says, because yes, she talks to memory snow. There were tales in Halo that it understood language, and Weaver wasn’t entirely sure if that was true or not but it definitely didn’t hurt. “Let’s turn you into something cooler than a lump of snow, okay?” She begins to work, relocating the snow away from the door a few feet. She didn’t need to take it far so long as she gave it a purpose, because memory snow liked having a purpose.
Then she begins to build. It’s a shame Korbin isn’t here to help her, as he was a better artist, but she’d been doing this for so long that she wasn’t terrible. Slowly the shape of the palace begins to form, a waist high replica of the real thing that sat not too far away from them now. A few times she ducks inside to warm her hands and feet before heading back out to keep working on the mini-palace. After a while, the little replica looks pretty good and she stands up, clapping her hands together to remove the extra snow.
Feeling pretty pleased with herself, she heads back inside to warm up. The memory snow wouldn’t go back to block the door and the mini-palace could be a useful thing to kick over in frustration or blast with some magic, if someone really felt inclined. The mini-palace would just come back, a little piece of magic sitting on the top of a school for it. It felt fitting.
weaver
-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --
Oh, but if everyone completed their tasks with such ease, it wouldn't be a PQ, now would it?
Neron would be the first to notice, as something landed on his shoulder. Perhaps a large snowflake, but alas no such luck. Marring his pristine black attire was a large white circle of poop on his shoulder, having fallen from the sky. The laundress was due to be cross now. But if the Warden was observant, he might see the culprit - a pesky white Ningo flying overhead before diving into the cover of a chimney to one of the many yet-to-be-lit fireplaces.
Which fireplace though? Between the various floors and many boarding rooms, the magic school had a plethora of fireplaces.
Weaver and Peter might notice the signs of the Ningo's presence too - shed feathers in corners, random little nests and the odd scratching sound here and there. Maea, if she could hear above her singing, might here the occasional squawk of something trying (read: failing) to sing along. But from where?
Uh-oh! Looks like Ningos have taken advantage of the not-quite finished state of the school and taken roost in a chimney and fireplace somewhere in the school! Better get rid of them or Zariah will not be pleased.
Pushing one final piece of furniture in place, Maea paused to breathe and straighten her back. That's when she noticed the squawks. Disharmoneous and slightly off key, they formed a strange counterpoint to her own melody that grated on the nerves. She interrupted herself and looked around. The squawking stopped. Again she picked up the song, and the cacophony started up again. Frowning, the short girl started to move down the hallway, peering into the rooms as she went. While she hadn't seen any signs of birds in the rooms she'd furnished, there was a few feathers lying about in the corners of the hallway, and some droppings on the floor.
Looking up, she was somewhat surprised to see a ningo perched on a swooping rafter near the ceiling. It oogled her with beady black eyes, head cocking from one side to the other as she came closer.
"Hello you. Aren't you supposed to be outside? This is a place for people now, I'm afraid."
Speaking softly to the bird in a sing-song-voice, she moved towards a window at the far end of the hallway. Prying it open and setting it wide, she grabbed a handful of snow from the sill and shaped it into a loose ball. This she carefully lobbed at the bird, hoping to dislodge it from its perch. The outside world was far brighter than inside, and she wanted to see if it would fly outside on its own.
If not... well. She was a farm girl born and raised. Herding chickens was par for the course, and herding ningos couldn't be much different.
------
Maea opens a window and throw a snowball at the ningo in the rafters, hoping to make it fly outside.
lay your hands on me
one last time
MAEA
♦ Violence, magic, thievery is permitted with Maea at all times. DM me if you have any ideas ♦
She’s just about able to feel her fingers without the tingle of cold when she spots a few ningo feathers. For a moment she hopes maybe she’s lucky and they had just blown in through the open door, but then she spots a nest and all hopes go out the window. Ningos. She loved them, generally, because they were very useful birds. Their feathers stuffed most of her blankets, their meat was tasty and filling, and they were everywhere making them easy to catch. But that last bit was their problem too. They were everywhere and honestly they were kind of stupid (or clever, really, depending on how you looked at it).
Clever was probably more accurate, but stupid sums up how she feels about it when they do things like sneak into unfinished buildings to make their homes. It was much warmer inside, so she didn’t really blame the suckers, but they couldn’t stay. Weaver is without her ningo trap (actually she has a number of them at home), but she’s caught enough of them that she’s sure she can find what she needs here. Her only small bit of luck is that she does have some seed with her (hey, you never know when it might come in handy), so she doesn’t need to scout for that.
Flexing her still chilled fingers, Weaver sets off to find a few key items. Something to function as a trap, a trip wire, and a small pole that will easily be knocked away. Thankfully the magic school is well stocked and she finds what she needs quickly, returning to the spot where she found the nest and setting up her makeshift trap. It doesn’t take her too long, though it's certainly not the fastest work. Maybe Zariah would think the memory snow ate her…
After a bit, she drops some seed in and near the trap and heads off, knowing the ningo won’t come out if she’s right near the trap. Then, grabbing a nearby bow and arrow from the training room, she sits down in a corner of the room to wait. She’s not the greatest shot, but just in case the trap fails she can always have a backup plan.
***
Weaver builds a makeshift trap with some seeds as bait hoping to catch the ningo.
weaver
-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --
Neron pressed his eyes shut. Well if he didn't recognise that sound he wouldn't have been worthy of living in Halo for any amount of time. "You son of a bitch," he said, opening his eyes just in time to see the ningo swoop into one of the chimneys. With a wave of a hand, the poop on his shoulder froze completely, allowing him to swipe it away. It would still leave a mark but at least it wouldn't smear everywhere.
Then he did the logical thing - given that he saw it dive in through the chimney, though not which one, he decided to simply... freeze over the one he'd seen the ningo disappear into. The little fucker wasn't getting out now.
Moving back downstairs from the roof, he glanced about for the rest of the group to check on their efforts.
Neron freezes the opening of the chimney to prevent the ningo from escaping again, then goes back to find the rest of the group.
