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!
Morgan stood by the Palace battlements, looking over the view of the Citadel and beyond, to the snow-tipped mountains and large frozen lakes and valleys. This particular view always served to remind her of her reasons for her work, why she cared so much about performing her duties. The people beneath her, the well-oiled machine of the Citadel, a jewel in the harsh winter; how could she not wish to protect it? This was her home and it was one that she loved dearly.
Not that she lacked affection for the mountains. In fact she adored them and all they represented. The past, solid and undeniable, natural. They would likely be there in a hundred years, long after she had died, the spirits that lived upon them eternally wandering the blizzarding heights.
There were not many things she would consider threats to her home. There were two things that concerned her: The Ascended, disgusting creatures made of fake flesh and digitized souls, and the Outlanders. Admittedly since Neron had become their leader, chosen by Eirachii...she had found it hard to impose this particular prejudice - still, she wondered if he was an exception, rather than the rule. To be overly cautious could be dangerous, but not so much as letting herself fall into a sense of false security.
As she stood looking over the view, she wondered what the coming years would bring, if the two threats she had discovered would make themselves further known. She could only hope that they would be strong enough to defend themselves if they did.
The greeting was quiet, even in the howling winds across the battlements, and the Warden approached his captain on silent feet. He stood, a black speck in the white landscape around them, snow in his hair and his hands well protected within his cloak. Stepping up beside Morgan, he surveyed the ground alongside her, silent for a few moments before he glanced sidelong at the soldier.
"I would speak to you, if your duties allow." He assumed as much, given the current state of peace within the Citadel, but having grown up alongside the military sort, he understood well that there was always something to do. "I have a situation where I believe you may be able to help."
"Warden." Morgan stood to attention automatically as her superior approached, hands behind her back and feet neatly together. Besides this she did not speak again, trained to listen and give advice, to protect when necessary, when she was among those above her (or at least, those she respected).
It seemed on this occasion, she was to give advice. Relaxing a little, her shoulders losing their tension as she looked across at Neron, she nodded. "Of course, Sir. My duty is to you foremost - what is it you need me to assist with?" If it was within her power (and many things were) she would do her best to complete it.
Neron's eyes were trained on the Tundra now, on the specks of white in the far distance which signalled other building structures, small and ruined as they might be. He did not like what he was about to ask, and he did not enjoy asking it, but ultimately the Citadel's protection came first. "You know of Whitebrim and the problematic rumours surrounding the area." Rumours being the polite way of saying that most of the exiles from Snowcloak became cannibalistic scavengers.
"A party went there recently to explore an abandoned mine in search of mageglass. It was... occupied. It appears the exiles there are using it to store their version of 'food'." Read: body parts. "I will be placing a notice to warn citizens not to approach the area, but this is not something from which I believe we can blindly turn away."
01-29-2020, 09:09 PM (This post was last modified: 01-29-2020, 09:10 PM by Morgan.)
MORGAN
Morgan followed Neron's gaze out over the snow-covered tundra, to the misshapen buildings on the horizon that marked the one place in the mountains she didn't visit. "I do, Sir." She agreed, no little amount of disdain in her voice for the wild people living in Whitebrim.
The news was shocking indeed (she'd heard rumours, but had never had them confirmed by someone she trusted) but Morgan only closed her eyes and raised her eyebrows silently for a moment before returning to the mask of the obedient soldier. "I see. So am I to run an mission to...clear the mine? To...eliminate those in the town engaging the practice?" Though from what she'd heard, it sounded like that was all of them.
It was no surprise that Morgan was one of Neron’s favourite people in Torchline. Practical and in full mastery of her feelings, it meant that they could successfully navigate a difficult conversation with poise and with the full expectation of a plan at the end of it. He waited for her to speak again in silence, steel eyes still on the snow capped Fangs flanking the great expanse of Halo.
”I’m unsure we can prevent them engaging in the practice. To do so would be to try and govern them - and they are exiles for a reason,” he said softly. ”For now I would arrange guards to accompany any traders, especially, coming to and from the portal to the Hollowed Grounds. An expedition to Whitebrim may be necessary in future, but I would prefer not to make it too obvious that we are starting to become proactive against them.”
As for the mine... Neron pursed his lips. ”Flood it, when we get the chance. It will freeze and remain that way.”
Neron being one of the few (if not the only) Outlander Morgan fully respected had earned her loyalty and service; he would find, as he had already, that this was very practised and proficient indeed. There was a reason she had been named the 'hammer of Halo' before, with her efficient and ruthless carrying out of tasks when they needed to be done.
"I see. If the situation continues though, we may find ourselves with no other choice than a stricter punishment. Where are we to send any further exiles for the time being? Surely we do not want to strengthen their ranks with more men." Always planning ahead, always trying to strategise. She looked sideways at Neron, looking to see if he had an answer.
As for the mine, she could organise that. "I will gather a team. Perhaps I can test the abilities of all our new council. See how they are when faced with a real task." It was one thing to speak of your wonderful battle skills, another entirely to actually face the realities of unpleasant battle.
01-30-2020, 04:21 PM (This post was last modified: 01-30-2020, 04:21 PM by Neron.)
neron
Oh, Neron had no doubts as to Morgan’s prowess or respect - it easily made her his most trusted member of the council, given that much of the rest of it consisted of his crazy family. So it was no surprise to find that she had some very good points, and the corners of his eyes creased as he considered them. ”For now we will construct a temporary gaol on the outskirts of the city - there are a few disused buildings, and it may be good practice for those who wish to hone any skills to build it.”
Failing that... ”I believe there is already a Penitentiary in the Hollowed Ground, also. I suppose there is naught stopping us from asking if we might use their facilities.” Far from his favourite option, but it was something.
He didn’t look at Morgan, but she would see his quiet smile at the mere prospect of assembling a team out of their new council. ”A fine idea, though I do not envy you. I would suggest handling my brother Loren with kid gloves, and keeping he and Zariah apart as much as possible. Other than that, I look forward to the report.”
"A decent idea. With this new crop of people arriving in the Citadel, I worry unrest shall become more common." Morgan sighed and looked down, closer to home, at the buildings and streets that made up the Citadel. It had always seemed so strong, so safe, until the chaos of the opening portal had begun to threaten the stability she had grown used to. "I would prefer not to use the services of the Ground, sir. Too easy for them to turn it against us in the case of potential conflict."
Neron's suggestions were noted, though Morgan had no intention of handling anyone with 'kid gloves'. Either they could take what she had to give, or they could go crying back the Ground. "I will make it work, Sir. Once the task is complete I will report back. Anything else?"
As always, Morgan made a very decent point of things, and whilst the Warden didn’t think a conflict with the Grounders was likely (not with how he and their queen had hit it off anyway), one couldn’t be too careful. And the stability of the Citadel was more important than a convenient place to exile their criminals. ”As you say. We will commence the construction of the gaol once you return, then. I’d like to ensure the majority of my council is in one piece before commencing any further action.”
Whether the council would come back in less than such a state could be down to either the cannibals or each other, knowing Zariah and Loren. Neron, having followed Morgan’s gaze down to the snow capped buildings beneath them, shook his head no. ”That will be all for now,” he advised, turning to go. ”As always, may luck be with you. But I sincerely doubt you will have need of it.” The smile was obvious in his voice, and Neron’s steps faded away as he headed down from the battlements. Plans in motion and future work underway - a productive conversation, all in all.
