[se] just to show herself up
for Deimos
Weaver Hale
Hunter

Age: 26 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural
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#15
She feels no call to war, not really. Weaver enjoys a good fight, but she’s the sort of fighter you’d find in underground brawls. She’s the anti-hero, the one who sets out for herself and ends up saving a few others along the way. If it came to it, she would stand with a Halovian army and defend her home, her life. She’d charge headlong into battle to save whom and what loved and whom and what they loved, but she wasn’t sure she was volunteering for it either. Though who knows, because she often tends to surprise even herself.

He gives her an age, and she nods, letting the moment be sober because she does understand what it like to kill, though she has never needed to kill another human. Still, she does not take life for fun, but for necessity. She knows the weight of killing even the plentiful, stupid ningos, and she can imagine that it does not even compare to the weight of what has been asked of him in his lifetime. She does not envy him, not really.

She is surprised at the notion of a Deimos who thought he would grate against orders, and she wonders what he was like as a younger man. Not who he is now, certainly, and she thinks she would have liked that version of him as well. It’s his question that catches her attention the most, remembering the warning Wessex had offered about Zariah. They had met, Weaver doing work to finish the Academy while Zariah did gods knows what other than parade around in those completely ridiculous shoes. ”Tell me what you know about Zariah. Please.” Because she really wants to know. It seems Neron may not be the one to be concerned about.

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens


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Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Militia General of the Hollowed Grounds / Guildmaster

Age: 26 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 8 - Strg: 28 - Dext: 28 - Endr: 33 - Luck: 27
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
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#16
DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
The earth-shattering, siren wail, drum-beating crescendos of war had been bound to his blood for dual lifetimes. Perhaps it was the only occupation, besides a throne, he would ever know – the wage of battle, the keen, puncturing decibels of commands in his ear, bellows and howls coiling below the surface of inherent, drawn, muscle memory. Maybe he was only suited for those pernicious acts, too blinded by its vitriol, its vehemence, its familiarity, to become anything else but a living, breathing weapon. But it was in his bones, in his flesh, in his skin, to justify rampaging along the frontlines, to defend, to shield, to bombard, to contort, to ravage, to twist and destroy. He’d protect, he’d bombard, he’d scald, and he’s ruin. It was just how far one wanted to push him.

Zariah was a subject that could’ve done it, his inquiry administering a host of curiosity, and at this point, the exchange of information seemed a necessity. Would Halo want to continue being under her potential onslaught and tyranny? The memories of the past summer grated heavily on his recollections, a simmering, seething boil that didn’t meet his voice, but seared in the granules of his marrow, in the exploits of everything they’d strived to accomplish and bound against; rebellion, insurrection, the scraping of sedition poised on the fringes of their abhorrence. Where to even begin – his eyes went away from anything crafted in his hands, back to the buildings nearby, the drifting shadows, the sun. “Last year, she instilled herself as Queen here.” Upon a world who hadn’t endured sovereignty, rules, or anything like the iron fist she’d promised. “She tried to force everyone into her new militia.” Which he’d readily done out of habit – and then guarded those newfound friends who’d bristled at the proposal, at brandishing their name across a piece of paper, signing their lives away for a woman they had no intention of defending. “Those who did not follow her rules were threatened with imprisonment.” Or placed within the jail with little to no notice at all. Which happened quite often – the ominous warnings, the impulsive wake of crumbling contortions – the ultimatums pressed against Amalia another surface in which his cold-blooded rage had chiseled and sculpted. “She also attempted to force some of her family members to marry and reproduce. Abandoneds, specifically.” Then he ceased, gaze flickering back to the ground, pondering if there was anything else he’d left out.
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Weaver Hale
Hunter

Age: 26 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural
Level: 2 - Strg: 9 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 14 - Luck: 12
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#17
He gives her the answer she seeks. Maybe she ought to say please more often, though she reserves such a word for important things like understanding Zariah. It holds more weight, she feels, to offer true politeness only on occasion, rather than to throw it away with each passing breath. The story begins in a way that is not unfamiliar, only the location and the face changed. Neron simply instilling himself as Warden. Zariah simply instilling herself as Queen. Apparently entitlement ran in the family.

The story he tells matches what Wessex had said of Zariah’s personality, though with more detail and perhaps less disdain. Not that he didn’t feel it, but rather that he didn’t show it as the demi-god had. He finishes, and she nods slightly, mulling over his words. ”So far she seems content as the Archmage, but of course, I am not within the palace walls,” she offers. Weaver has no way of knowing what whispers she breathes into Neron’s ear, who she has placed around him. It was already clear that their family was simply given positions whether they deserved it or not, given the number of them now pretending to run Halo. Had other appointments had been made by Zariah, rather than Neron?

”It seems like a wonder to me her family tolerates her. I also do not know what the Arcane Academy will yield, though if she succeeds…” Weaver trails off, knowing he will know exactly what she is thinking. If she succeeds, she will have created a very powerful army of mages at her disposal. ”Though it is hard to control people who do not love you.” Fear was a motivator, certainly, but it would only work for so long. In the end, people followed out of love and respect, not out of terror. ”I admit, I also judge her for those shoes. It seems she ought to be easy to trip and trample in those things.” Weaver has not forgotten the ridiculous, towering heels the Archmage wore. In Halo, for that matter, of all places to wear completely impractical shoes.

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens


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Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Militia General of the Hollowed Grounds / Guildmaster

Age: 26 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 8 - Strg: 28 - Dext: 28 - Endr: 33 - Luck: 27
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
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#18
DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
It was only control, composure, and time that ensured the rancor, the bitterness didn’t sink into tempestuous or mercurial layers. Too many days spent in stoic intervals ensured it was his neutral tendency, that the natural loathing, abhorrence, and vehemence didn’t simmer within his vocals; impassive takes, careful, conspiring, taking into consideration the ministrations of others’, the machinations of their ruses and schemes. He didn’t want others to know of his hatred until it was too late – when he was upon them and stoked for the kill, overpowering, overwhelming menace and malice, an unattainable, unreachable figment of disaster and ruin.

Maybe one day Zariah would overstep again. Maybe these warnings would be enough for those in Halo. He’d never known the Merciless to be content though, building, building, building up her mantles and status, powers and prestige. “I do not know much about the family.” Save for Loren, who’d been subsequently disowned anyway. He hadn’t been amongst her sort, overtaking, overreaching, ready and eager to bend and break every living thing daring to bombard his path.

He made no comment upon reigning or thrones. Those days were gone too; crowns heavy, summits proud. The Arcane Academy though was something to be aware of, pondering how many Zariah could plunge within its walls, coming out with the army she’d always dreamed of. “But we can imagine.” Nothing good for whatever stood in her way. How many would flock to those thresholds, where instruction would be prevalent where power could be earned and maintained? He understood the implications and why someone would yearn to achieve, grow stronger, mightier, but the one running it couldn’t be trusted. He arched his brow at the notion of shoe apparel, not fully comprehending the comment (or ever caring about what someone was wearing on their feet), his eyes lifting back towards the sun and shadows. “There is always rebellion.” Like an afterthought, like they hadn’t been plotting it since the moment she’d forced her rule into their world, like they hadn’t dug their heels in and refused to break or bend.

Because they could always do it again.
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Weaver Hale
Hunter

Age: 26 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural
Level: 2 - Strg: 9 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 14 - Luck: 12
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#19
He admits he does not know much about the rest of the family. Weaver had met Neron at the same time as Zariah, the Warden doing more work for the school than it’s own Archmage had bothered to do. She didn’t know anything else about him, but still, it put him up at least a small notch in Weaver’s book.

In the end though, he says what she had not, but what they were clearly both thinking. ”I admit, I hope it does not come to that. For all that the portals have given us, some selfish part of me longs to go back to the days of them being closed, to the rest of Caido being nothing but a fairy tale. Days when I did not concern myself with women like Zariah and her army of mages. Though hopefully not all will be easily brainwashed.”

Weaver would not be, and she was enrolled in the school. She wanted to learn, wanted to be trained by the very woman she knew she may be training to defend Halo against. The rest of the family, so far as she knew, seemed to have good intentions. Though to be fair, Zariah too seemed to have good intentions so far. It is only that Weaver knows more of Zariah and her legacy than she does of the others, and so can see how those intentions might not be so pure. ”Caido has seen enough war.” Yet they could not help themselves, could they?

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens


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Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Militia General of the Hollowed Grounds / Guildmaster

Age: 26 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 8 - Strg: 28 - Dext: 28 - Endr: 33 - Luck: 27
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#20
DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
Deimos made no mention of how they’d already stoked sedition and insurrection once, in the midst of bakery basements, gathering forces and clenched jaws, the snap of words and vitriol flying in the haste of planning. How he and so many others had carved their armaments into earth and prospered holes beneath prisons. How they’d prepared and anointed a chosen King, and then watched it fall to another. How everything either fell into place or was scattered days, hours, moments later. How, if it came down to it, he’d do it again – a multitude of abhorrence and vengeance scorching the enamel, the marrow, the rush of blood in his bones. His eyes were back on the horizon, on wooden houses and a quiet settlement, striving to struggle through their latest onslaught and terror.

The beast was sorry too, in his own way, about how the opening of portals just seemed to increase the damage. When Outlanders had been plunged into this careful little world, with its bubbles and Spires, with its safety nets, scattered to the wind the moment they’d all begun to play a part in its artifice. Now it spread all over, to other worlds, opening and widening the chasms of their actions and motives, conspiring to unleash havoc and hell. Had anything good come of it?

He could answer in his own heart – the people in the end had varnished and lacquered any of the hurt, the suffering, into something bearable.

“Then we will see,” was all he could manage; head not bowed, just prepared, as cold and calculating as days spent beneath mountains, pondering where to stab and lacerate all over again.
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Weaver Hale
Hunter

Age: 26 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural
Level: 2 - Strg: 9 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 14 - Luck: 12
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#21
She follows his gaze out to the settlement, to the ruins of what was once a thriving place. Though isolated, Halo had been largely untouched by war, doesn’t bear the scars of human and divine meddling. It might have been a hell there, but it was a very different hell than here. This place told a different story, something painful and tired, though not without hope. The rebuilt settlement is testament to this, life springing up despite attempts to tamp it down.

Deimos was his own sort of testament to this, outlanders who’d found their place in this world despite it not being their own. She understands, on a conceptual level, why many of the naturals don’t like the outlanders. But she doesn’t understand in her gut. Maybe they were not one of them, but they were new blood, and perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing for Caido. They could use something fresh here after so much stagnation.

”So what happened to her here? Did she leave, or did you have to get rid of her?” She wonders if Neron would be able to contain her this time, since she no longer wore the crown. Would that be enough of a hiderance? Was she willing to move slowly, less obviously, this time around? Because Weaver didn’t expect her not to move, not to shift her chess pieces. It was simply and matter and how and to what end.

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens


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Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Militia General of the Hollowed Grounds / Guildmaster

Age: 26 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 8 - Strg: 28 - Dext: 28 - Endr: 33 - Luck: 27
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
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#22
DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
Outlanders as a whole had been regarded with bitterness, with rancor, with a level of suspicion, especially a year or so before. He’d understood and hadn’t scalded, hadn’t seethed, hadn’t driven any rage into the caustic stances – had attempted to find some measure of go-between, a place where they could be helpful, assisting, without fumbling through the Naturals’ order of things, the balance, the traditions. It’d all been driven and fumbled back when the Spire Monster disaster had marked and sketched, and seemingly dissipated when Zariah had claimed her leadership, all of them assimilating into their version of tirades against a tyrant. They’d all tried to find their way – because they hadn’t been asked to come, because they’d been snagged from their regions of worlds, places, and times – strived, tried to find a foothold too. Maybe there were still glimmers of abhorrence, or less and less, as lands and kingdoms gave way to other things entirely, when these Naturals realized there was more than just the Hollowed Grounds: wealth of knowledge, of sagacity, of capabilities, beyond the realm they’d been stuck within. There were other experiences that mattered, there were other storms to settle within, there were other glimmers of life.

If this irked or irritated, then it was all the part of the pattern.

His eyes left the settlement’s rogue shadows and the push of the sun steadily rising, flickering down to the ground, to his bag with its stores and wares for celebrations he’d never fully understand. The story of Zariah loomed to a close, at least here, rising again only when she reappeared along the crags of Halo. “There was a notice one day stating she had a secret mission. She departed, and left Edrei as her Queen. It all unraveled from one monarch to the next after that.” An absolute joke, really; their little act of rebellion nothing against the tirades of anger within stones and irritation, rankling, flaring tempers and reckless, rapacious decisions. Titles and thrones passed over from one individual to the next, and truly only ceasing now, for the moment, with their counsel in place. As far as the Merciless though, he didn’t know what occurred on the other side. “Did she just appear in Halo one day?”
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Weaver Hale
Hunter

Age: 26 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural
Level: 2 - Strg: 9 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 14 - Luck: 12
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#23
”I assume that notice coincided with the portal to Halo opening?” It’s half a question, half a statement. If it wasn’t exact, it was probably close enough. The more curious part was why Zariah had gone and run off to Halo. Not that she expects Deimos to know the answer to this question, and so she doesn’t ask. Though she does wonder. Had she left rather than being overthrown, the former being a vastly more preferable option to one’s pride and possibly life? Or was there something more that Weaver wasn’t privy to? Something to do with the Launceleyn family, with Neron’s sudden appearance in Halo? The questions run through her head with no hope of an answer. It’s not like Zariah was going to tell her, after all.

Weaver swings the basket around in her hand as Deimos asks what happened after Zariah’s plague left the Grounds for fresh lands. The basket holds, and she grins slightly as she nods at his question. ”As far as I know. Neron showed up out of nowhere and decided to call himself Warden of a bunch of people who never needed a Warden before. Zariah appeared and became Archmage.” The plague of the Launceleyn’s, it seemed, rather than just Zariah. They largely ruled Halo now (supposedly, anyway). Mostly she didn’t care what they did so long as they left Halo out of it, but based on all she was learning it seemed so unlikely.

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens


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Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Militia General of the Hollowed Grounds / Guildmaster

Age: 26 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 8 - Strg: 28 - Dext: 28 - Endr: 33 - Luck: 27
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
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#24
DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
His mind ricocheted and rolled through the seasons past, pondering over other leaders and rapid turnover of reigns, portal books and scratching over enamel, heart singing for mountains, the scourging of the Mathair, and alterations bordering on the fringes of LongNight. “Well after.” It’d taken time, measures, beyond his realm of understanding, likely orchestrations of divine makings or some other manifestations. His fingers toyed with a dagger from his bag, maneuvering it back and forth between the digits while he thought and considered. What had Zariah been up to in those unknown intervals? Gathering her power, her might, her Merciless accord again?

The circumstances around Neron’s rise to power sounded eerily familiar: a declaration and nothing more. Zariah had done much the same, built up her palace, her citadel walls and grounds, then expected the world to cater to her whims. He snorted, a brief dose of cold-blooded humor, derisive and emboldened. The Hollowed Grounds had ascertained they hadn’t needed a ruler either: no sovereign, no tyranny, no assemblage of raw power and ego-trips. Except in the end, it hadn’t mattered, and they still held those roles. A Launcelyn trait, to show up when they were weren’t necessary or wanted. “And how is his rule?” More benevolent than his counterpart – or was it all Zariah behind the scenes anyway?
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