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!
Sascha felt overwhelmed over this whole thing, struggling to find a footing underneath himself as the world span around him over this fantastic gift he just received. The bow was extraordinary and beautiful and it's looks made him incredibly careful with it even though it was clear to him how strong the bow really was. The quiver was just as magnificent and fit with the bow perfectly it was just.. to much kindness for Sascha to handle. He had become stunned even though you could clearly see how much he liked the gifts he had gotten. Just.. extraordinary. As the chock slowly dissipated from him he listened to Deimos words but without letting his eyes leave his beautiful bow. Yes HIS bow. His perfect bow! Then like a lightning strike that overly happy smile took over Sascha and all of a sudden he came flying to embrace Deimos full heartedly in gratitude. "Thank you so much Deimos! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
Yes there was nothing in existence that could prevent this action. The happy Sascha embracing Deimos to show his appreciation in a proper, Sascha way. He let go of Deimos to not be TO clingy as the smiling face fell back on the beautiful bow. Pure joy lighting up the healer. "I need to try it out!" He said and carefully put down the other bow and quiver that wasn't his but fished up a arrow however to try his new bow out with. Carefully he put down his quiver before placing the arrow into place, aiming for a quick second as he pulled the arrow back before releasing it at the target. Same good posture as before. The arrow flew through the air yet again and landed right next to the previous arrow in the center of the target without harming it's neighbor arrow in the slightest. This... was... great!
But Deimos has never been one to presume anything positive flailed in his direction; not since wars, not since apathy, not since a rancorous edge to his teeth, a seditious spread to his bones. So Sascha’s arms flung around him was a bewildering surprise, eyes widening, utter shock rippling through his accord, the rest of his frame tight, taut, and rigid. The uncertainty of what to do was even more baffling. He offered embraces to those he considered family; scooped them up, held them tight, allowed them to proceed in layering their weight upon his shoulders, lest they all be consumed by the immeasurable tenacities and tendencies.
Sascha wasn’t one of those things: but a friend perhaps, and by the time the Sword had puzzled over how to react, the fellow Artisan relieved him by releasing him, and volleying back to the bow. “You are welcome,” the beast prospered in return, snorting away anything else. Instead, he watched and witnessed as arrows were notched, as bowstrings, woven in perfection, were drawn and embellished, tactics sewn and honed: weapons landing exactly as they should’ve been. His head tilted, quiet in study and perusal.
Sascha was indeed shining as bright as the sun when he lowered his new bow, still partly dazzled over this wonderful gift combined with a overwhelming sensation of happiness, even for him. True; it wasn't THAT hard to shine up Sascha's life but this was special. VERY special. It was also VERY clear that the bow was the perfect weapon for him. It was a bit like chess; you HAD to think many moves ahead which was one thing Sascha excelled at, unless it came to his own safety of course. The happy, loving character that was Sascha ALWAYS thought the best of everyone which in Caido both stuck out and was very dangerous.
Even though Sascha kind of already had figured it out he was still curious if the answer could surprise him which made him ask Deimos in his cheerful manner. "Say.. which is your all time favorite weapon? If you only could choose one?"
Sascha’s contentment floated and pervaded through the training grounds; enough for even the General, with the aura of menace, malice, and melancholy rampaging through him, to unburden the slightest amount. He stared out over the earth, barely a sigh winding through his lungs, eyes following over targets, over arrows pressed into their bullseyes, the cheeky, devilish assortment of a grin daring to peek through. Glad and satisfied that there were hidden depths and talents amongst those who’d come to find the Hollowed Grounds home, that there was more to life than just constant breaking and rebuilding.
He didn’t expect the inquiry though, spun back into his formidable, familiar accord of quiet and hushed platitudes, the ruminations rushing along his skull. His gaze settled back over to Sascha, a quirked brow settled in place. A favored weapon, if he could only choose one. It required far more consideration than he’d care to admit, considering the vast array of weaponry, munitions, and skills at his disposal: how to layer and lacquer desecration, death, last, unsettled heartbeats in chests, withering, decaying breaths within shuddering lungs. So he went to the most familiar, the things he’d had since childhood. “My magic, probably.” Transgressions, iniquity, and ruin in the palm of his hand, in the pulse of his veins, in the strength and conviction of his malice. “Then the sword.” Like titles and namesakes, the press of blades across an adversary's throat.
Sascha indeed became a bit surprised over that the magic won over the sword as he himself had thought was Deimos favorite of weapons. But what else could you expect from Sascha of all people when he bursted out in a happy smile as he fastened his bow next to his quiver on his back. "I must say i had thought the sword was the all time favorite but i can't blame you for choosing the magic skills at top place." He said in a cheerful way that almost should be punishable in the world they lived in. How could he always be so cheerful? It was quite a mystery to be honest as he walked back towards Deimos in an upbeat stride like as if his whole life was complete. He had friends, food, shelter and now even a bow and he was doing what he loved each day.. What could really be complained about?
"I kinda wish to develop my magic to but feel i might be a bit too busy for it if it makes sense? Don't get me wrong; I really enjoy helping people with my magic but there are more ways than one to truly help someone, right?" He said just as cheerfully with his eyes stuck on Deimos.
Perhaps it was a surprise; but the beast shrugged, no shame in the admittance of preferences and loyalties. It didn’t mean he tried and instigated with the insurrection coiled within his frame first, but the potential was always there. “I had magic first.” An integral contortion and framework to his life, crafted into the Reaper at a tender, young age when brutality quietly seared between his veins. Swordsmanship came well after, along soldier marches and coiled ethers of potential, foreboding massacres; more than one way to maim and destroy a man.
As far as the cheer, Deimos just remained steadfast in its wake, shaking his head, shoulders relaxed, listening to Sascha’s insinuations. Healing would always be a necessity in these trying days, where disasters unraveled and unfurled without any semblance of warning, or picked apart, fumbled at the seams, until everything in its wake was bent and broken. LongNight was expected: Fiat Lux hadn’t been. Sascha would likely be able to apply himself no matter where he went, presuming the amount of danger and treachery everyone found themselves immersed within. “I suppose,” his eyes went off across the grounds. “But healers are always a necessity.” Likely an eternal struggle, between all their shambles of trials and tribulations. However, the more Sascha interacted, meandered, and explored, he’d likely gain new aptitudes, new strengths. He wouldn’t need to choose between the two.
Sascha considered his priorities as Deimos has stated the fact that a healer always was a necessity. It was true.. in a place like Caido where people constantly got themselves hurt it would be good to have as many healers as one possibly can. But how could he improve on his magic and what did he need to do for it? He supposed he could start studying a lot and practice on healing bigger and greater wounds then a simple smaller flesh-wound or dislocated joint. So many possibilities combined with so much learning to do. Sascha all of a sudden went from his thinking face into a new, brilliant smile as he had decided what to do. The smile actually made one of the fighters nearby look utterly shocked and almost caused him damage from his opponent even. With the smile came a clap as his hands was forced together in this new turn of events.
"Well then! I will make sure not to disappoint you then! I will become a great healer for the good of everyone!" It was quite dazzling to be completely fair to see the resolve on Sascha as he now decided to focus even more on his magic. After all it would help many injuries and maybe even Deimos!
In another time, in another world, in another life, some might have hastened to meet his approval – but that was when he held a crown, when he held a mantle, when he fought tooth and nail for the rest of the world to sink beneath his kingdom. That was when there were nefarious, sinister expectations, a haunting edge of rogue, seditious efforts, bringing down palisade walls, unfurling secrets, irreverence the state of rapture, the spread of revolution a favored disaster. In anger, in outrage, in wrath, in abhorrence, in apprehension he’d ghosted and rumbled and scraped those words down another’s figure (you disappoint me), and watched them turn, watched them unleash, and stood there, indifferent and uncaring, a figure in the chilling wind. As if naught affected him. As if each laceration held no pain. As if to feel anything else was beneath him.
And now he was nothing and no one, and perfectly content with it all.
“Do not worry about disappointing me,” he shook his head, mildly certain Sascha wouldn’t anyway. Too much spunk, too much grit, too much mettle, too much effervescence, seemingly undaunted by the swift changes and upheavals carved into the earth. While Deimos wouldn’t benefit from it, because he’d learned on more than one occasion that the life drain in his soul ensured no healing from another abandoned would have any effect, it didn’t mean others couldn’t benefit from Sascha’s knowledge and refinement. “Have you been to the Medical College yet?” Surely they’d have answers to any inquiries, or grant him a multitude of experiences to draw from.
Sascha felt the spirit of success overflow him when Deimos told him to not worry about disappointing him, why? Cause it meant he already had plus points to spare so unless something horrific happened he would still be in a good spot. And to be fair; Not much horrific done by Sascha really happened like.. at all. Sascha was WAY to kind to make a horrible spectacle even by accident after all and that seamed to be hard to change. Even during training if he THOUGHT he had hurt someone he panicked and begged for forgiveness after all. Deimos was slowly but steadily starting to matter as much as a big brother to Sascha and every smile the other man made filled Sascha with joy and a sense of pride. If you asked Sascha Deimos needed to smile more so every time he did it was a victory.
Medical.. college? Sascha couldn't help but to lean his head to the right after the question had been spoken. "There is a medical.. college?" He looked slightly flabbergasted over these news since he didn't really know about medical schooling. "Where can i find this school? I think that might help a lot, right?"
Small smiles again, a tilt of his head as he glanced off in the direction of the aforementioned college. “I would think so. I am certain they have an abundance of knowledge to share.” Much more than Deimos would ever be able to provide about healing, mending, or assuaging; at the opposite ends of the morality spectrum, capable of destroying and devastating without a single chord of apprehension. Normalcy in maelstroms, in havoc, in anarchy. And where they so often had damaged, broken, whittled-away beings, Sascha’s heightened experiences, capabilities, and abilities would assist them all. Plus, it would only serve to improve the other man’s sagacity and wisdom on the matter, to become better, to become brighter, to become something more than the rest of them, dragging their heels in the dust, dirt, and decay. Where they blistered and tore, Sascha shone; and it should’ve remained that way.
He tucked his blade into the new sheath, admiring it briefly on a quiet laugh, a muffled snort. “We can finish up here and I will show you.”
Sascha looked mesmerized over the knowledge there was schooling to be had when it came to healing magic. He had thought it wouldn't exist schools for magic for some reason and to now hear that there were was fascinating him to no limit. As Deimos told him that they could go right away it created a form of smaller nervousness within him mixed with excitement. Already!? "Oh! Well sure, im just not very good at it yet.. is there a test or something or.. how does it all work?"
He made sure his bow and quiver was secured on his shoulder and back while he waited for Deimos to get ready. He then got reminded of something and lit up in that classical Sascha smile. "Oh! Check this out Deimos!" He said as he put the sides of his hands together to look down on his palms. A shining light emerged and when it dissipated a fluffy ball of yellow feathers laid on his palms. He stretched out his hands to show it off as the small, fuzzy chicken made a adorable sound as it stood up in his palms. "I found out i have a new magic!" The joy from Sascha was indescribable.
The General truly only knew and understood the medical college’s existence: not much else. One could presume what happened within those walls: a foundation of knowledge, occasions of wisdom and sagacity to help the greater whole. So while he fixed several targets, placing them back to where they belonged, reconstructing some semblance of order, he mused, puzzled out the answer. “I am not certain. I have never been either.” The slightest of grins, mildly impish, then a shrug to his broad shoulders. “But the point is for you to become better.”
He maneuvered around, placing other weapons, bows, back to where they belonged, quivers and arrows settled into their proper accord – not expecting Sascha’s next set of words. “Oh?” Curiosity, postured in the arch of his brow, in the complexity of his machinations and calculations spiraling along his meticulous mind. Sascha too had grown amidst the chaos and clarity; new invocations, new enchantments – not unlike his fire, pulsing vibrantly along his veins.
So his eyes flicked, followed, as palms were opened, as summonings took place, only mildly recognizing the ability thanks to Loren’s efforts. He wasn’t even remotely surprised, however, to find a ball of light, yellow feathers – a chick - newborn and fluffy, every essence of Sascha’s presence. His smile appeared more genuine then, the lightest of laughs pummeling through, a rumble in his chest. “Congratulations. If you want to know more about summoning, you should ask Loren.”
Sascha let out a little "Oh!" as his mind were racing, considering how much he would learn at this place. In any case it certainly didn't hurt to investigate, maybe he could become strong enough to help out all of his friends! Thats really what he wanted to do after all, not go in to war and cause devastation, just heal the wounded and help people out really. "Well it certainly can't hurt! Besides i like learning!" Yes he had back in China studied a lot of things including English and even though he could not read english text he still could talk it without any issues. Not so uncommon however considering what age he had actually lived at back on Earth.
As Deimos showed his interest over what Sascha's new found magic was he smiled brightly before summoning the little chicken baby. It chirped affectionate and wandered around aimlessly in his stretched out palms. He couldn't summon very big things but smaller animals was no issue even if it of course took more strength to summon say a kitty cat. The light laugh made Sascha reply with an amused and happy ringing laugh of his own as the little fluffball chirped in his hands, widened its feathers to make itself scary before turning back to his normal size, clearly comfortable with the environment he was in. The laugh was like a gift to Sascha's ears since he felt a suspicion that Deimos didn't genuinely laugh very much. True; Caido could be a harsh place to live in but everyone deserved a good laugh in their lives.
Sascha raised the chick to his shoulder and watched it take the few steps to end up on it before carefully lowering his hands to make sure the chick didn't want to jump back down. It chirped however and sat down on his shoulders in a comfortable position which made Sascha's eyes look back at Deimos again. "Who is Loren?" He asked with a wide smile towards his brother-figure.
Sascha’s ability to see the grandeur in everything would hopefully remain along this infernal existence. Perhaps they all needed a different outlook, a different outset, from all the other deadly, infernal, soulless parameters constantly reeling and raining down upon them. Another half-smile wore its way to his mouth, and he cleaned up the last of the targets, nodding towards the notion of learning. Caido was certainly a teacher in many ways: survival, persistence, and devastation amongst a litany of its subjects. But if Sascha could hone in his abilities, could become better, brighter, and more capable, then that was one more individual capable of combatting the onslaught of torture, annihilation, and abhorrence.
His eyes went to the chick again, another billowing snort following a shaking head. He wasn’t certain what that level of summoning could provide, or what the little animal could do for the moment, but maybe that wasn’t the point. Usefulness had other outlets, and as he maneuvered along the training grounds, through the barracks, expecting Sascha to follow, he pondered it. Maybe it was just to be a lighter segment in a world so callously, so harshly, defined by its chaos.
The question hit him as they set along the streets, curling along avenues towards the aforementioned college. “Loren Launceleyn,” he paused for a moment, considering the disowning of the name, then shrugged. “He can summon animals too. Though much larger.” Like…bears.
