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!
Normally she seeks the shrine of the old gods, bringing a candle for a brother and asking Mort or Ludo how he’s doing. Strange, perhaps, that she never comes to honor her mother or stepfather, yet she suspects they do not wish for it. Straia certainly would not wish to be mourned. It is her brother that she cannot let go of, though. Perhaps she struggles because his death was given for her life. It should have been her that killed that day, not him. He could have escaped, could have run, could have left her to the ursur when she’d been nearly dead anyway.
This time of year, she always ventures into the Tundra. Not that this is unusual for her, for she hunts here plenty, has lived her life braving the wasteland of the Tundra outside the Citadel. Yet normally she comes with a better purpose and plan. But during Leafchange she comes only for Erebor, to the spot near enough to where they’d been attacked that day. It is not far from town, and one a clear day she can see Snowcloak and the Citadel with ease. Today is cloudy and she can see only a hint of their small city, though there’s no threat of a storm.
Weaver lights a fire, bringing a bit of wood to keep it burning without using all her energy to keep it alive. One log becomes a seat, and a few feed the flames, though she uses her magic to coax the fire to a roaring flame. She grabs a bit of the fire with her magic, tracing it through the air in swirls and patterns. ”If you could see me now, brother. I learned this by stealing a bell from around an ursurs neck, and pissing off the teacher. So I guess only some things have changed.” She says, realizing she is talking to herself, but perhaps the dead hear them anyway.
Alina hadn't scouted Halo at all. Although she was suspicious of all new lands, the danger from Halo seemed less than that of the Hollowed Ground or Torchline in her mind. Still, she'd be foolish not to check out the land of ice and snow, so she'd bundled herself up in her heaviest winter gear and went through the portal in the Mathair.
Depositing a sack of meat with the guards there, she started flying down the road from the mountains. However, a flicker of light caught her eye, and she altered course, flying towards it. It resolved itself into the shape of a woman with fire dancing in the air in front of her. The Fae's eyes narrowed and she landed, taking a tighter grip on her spear. "What are you doing? Who are you talking to?" It came out in a sharp tone, and there was no hint of friendliness in Alina's voice.
Halo probably wasn't that dangerous when it came to its people. They were too busy surviving to be too concerned with conquests or portal openings, with gods and mortals and everything in between. Though perhaps, given enough time and influence, that would change. The possibility simmers, given the Outlanders and the outsiders that trickle in, but give them a few Deepfrosts and maybe their ambitions would be chilled.
Out of the very gray sky emerges a small flying human. The soft thump of feet in snow is the first sound, and then a voice is the second. Weaver lets the fire drop only once the fae has spoken, finding that though the voice is not pleasant, it is not immediately threatening either. The fire still crackles merrily on its logs in front of her though, a quick weapon should she need it. Besides, there is a scythe on her back and knives in all manner of places.
Weaver looks at the woman, entirely uncertain of her age given the whole fae thing, but she assesses the spear gripped tightly in her hand and the almost defensive stance. Hmm, maybe not defensive, maybe offensive. Weaver, for her part, looks very unconcerned. ”My dead brother,” she says, sounding as unruffled as she looks. ”So probably the wind, really. But he died around here, a few years ago.” It was Leafchange, after all, a time to celebrate the dead. And so she does.
As the woman refused to show any hint of fear, Alina's eyes narrowed. Then she gave the stranger an approving nod. The Fae rested the butt of her spear in the snow, the aggressive posture fading slightly. Still, it was clear she was one edge.
The mention of dead relatives didn't help, and she grimaced at the explanation. "I'm sorry to hear of your loss." It came out unexpectedly, and she pressed her lips together as she glanced into the fire.
For a long moment, she was quiet. Then she looked back up, meeting the other woman's eyes. "How did he die?" The question came out almost bluntly, Alina's tone lacking the sympathy that might be warranted under the circumstances.
The Fae relaxes only slightly, and Weaver leaves her alone about it. The tiny woman, though clearly fierce, would be a fool not to be on edge in Halo. Weaver isn’t about to try and convince her otherwise. Still, Weaver grabs another log and puts it down nearby, clearly a seat, if the Fae wants to relax by the fire slightly.
Weaver shrugs slightly at the apology. ”It is normal, particularly around here,” she says, though she appreciates the apology nonetheless. It was the nicest thing to offer to someone in such a situation, even if it did nothing in the end.
The next question comes rather bluntly, and Weaver is almost thankful for the tone. It’s better than pity. She hates pity. ”An ursur. We got caught in a blizzard right around here, not far from town at all, when the ursur snuck up on us. They are damn hard to see in the middle of a blizzard. It came for me, first. Nearly killed me. Put a hole in my chest. My brother saved my life, but died for it.” It is not something she talks about often, but she will tell the story when asked. It feels strange to say it, though maybe appropriate to say it here, now.
The Fae did not want to sit down by the fire; although she eyed the log the stranger set out, Alina made no move to stir from her current position. Instead, she rested her weight slightly on the butt of her spear, though not so much her movements would be hampered.
"Just because something is normal doesn't mean it's okay." The words still came out without the sympathy they probably should have possessed. Indeed, her eyes had narrowed slightly at the other woman. "For instance, people keep murdering people. Doesn't make it alright." Alina's voice came out certainly on that point.
"It's an honor, to give one's life in protection of another." She eyed the stranger thoughtfully now. "What's an Ursur?" She looked around the frozen plain as if to spot one of these creatures.
Weaver isn’t particularly upset that the other woman chooses to stand. She did her civic duty by offering, or whatever you want to call it. After that, what someone else chose to do was no skin off her back one way or another. If she wanted to be cold and away from the fire, sobeit. Weaver had the luxury of both the fire and cold resistance. Maybe the Fae did too, or maybe they just weren’t bothered by extreme temps in general. Honestly she knows so little about them that all of those things could be possible.
Weaver nods at her words. ”True enough,” she concedes. ”Though I’d argue murder and death by urusr aren’t quite the same.” She says it halfheartedly, though. Even if they aren’t the same, that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t like her brother back. It doesn’t mean she doesn’t wish death wasn’t normal.
”An ursur is the sort of creature you never want to meet,” she says, almost amused, but the warning is true enough. ”Vicious, large woolly bears with long, serrated tusks. Nasty things. Hurt like fucking hell, a pain in the ass to kill, slightly easier to run away from but not much. Though they can’t fly, lucky for you.” Her and Erebor were not so lucky, though. ”Honestly this place is full of shit trying to eat you, though they are the most common. Along with luxere, which at least don’t usually try to get you dead.”
Alina narrowed her eyes at the stranger. "Never said they were. It was just an example." Again, the Fae's voice was more brusque than was probably advisable under the circumstances.
As the other woman explained what Ursur were, Alina scowled. "Sound like quite formidable foes." There was something almost eager about her tone, as if she wanted to test herself against one of these beasts. At the mention of luxere, however, he scowl deepened. "Unless they happen to be on fire." There was something ugly about her voice and her expression.
Shaking her head slightly, she picked up her spear, fiddling with it, clearly agitated. "What other beasts are there to watch out for in Halo?" Her eyes had grown hard and sharp.
She’s vaguely tempted to point out that examples that are too different defeat the purpose, but she’s not really in the mood. Today is a day for her brother, and if she turned too much into herself, he’d just be disappointed in her. Assuming he was watching her from Mort’s realm. Weaver liked to think he was, hanging out there and shaking his head at her in death as he did in life. For a moment, the flames burn higher into the sky, as if reaching out for him, before they settle back down.
The Fae seems eager at the idea of an ursur, and Weaver is vaguely tempted to warn her, but hadn’t her description been warning enough? Halo was overrun with fools who wanted to cross paths with it’s vicious beasts, and it seemed they didn’t really care what the locals said about it. Instead, she moves of to the comment of the luxuere. ”I’ve never actually seen one on fire. Have you?” She heard the tales though, even if she’s never crossed paths with one herself and did not mind that she had not.
”Frost giants, water elementals, white dragons,” she says, ticking off the list of the usual dangerous suspects in Halo, ”though none are all that common. You’ll find dragons in The Fangs if you try hard enough, though they will leave you alone if you leave them alone usually. Though I hear they are everywhere and far more hostile in the Draig Cordillera. We’ve got more common, non-mythical animals too, wolves and the like. The ningos don’t try to kill you, at least, and they taste great.”
Alina scowled. "I've seen the damage such a beast can do." Indeed, all the Fae had witnesses the rampaging luxere with fire in its antlers. It had been the straw the finally spurred her into action.
As the stranger listed all the beasts that roamed the frozen tundra that was Halo, the Fae glanced around at the snow once more and took a firmer grip on her spear. "You've got quite a few beasts around here, from the sounds of it." She returned her gaze to the other woman. "Have you faced many of them?" For once, Alina found herself honestly curious to hear how these outsiders dealt with the creatures within their borders.
”Oh?” she asks, curiosity in the question. ”Would you be willing to share the story?’ she continues, but the question leaves room for the other to say no. She can understand that some prefer not to relive bad memories. Though Weaver collects stories and information so she asks. Besides, she does truly want to know, and the question is genuine.
”Mostly just ursurs and wolves and the like. I’ve seen a dragon, once, though never a white dragon. And to be perfectly honest, my hunting group and I turned tail and left. We weren’t about to go after a dragon.” She shrugs. Perhaps it would be seen as cowardice, but really, it was just good sense. Odds are not typically in your favor when facing a dragon, and you generally just consider yourself lucky to live. They could find food in far easier forms to kill. ”We use traps a lot. It’s cold and no one wants to sit out in the tundra and wait for something to pass by if we don’t have to. Sometimes we’ll see something and choose to fight instead though.” Or sometimes an ursur would spring up on you from a blizzard.
Eyes narrowing, Alina scoffed. "Not much of a story." She pointed her weapon at the other woman, though not threateningly. "A luxere with fire in its antlers came through a portal and almost burned down the Greatwood." Then the Fae scowled. "Most say it came from Halo." There was a challenging tone to her words.
Nodding slightly, she rested the butt of her weapon on the ground again. "It's much the same for hunters in the Greatwood. And it's not cowardice to flee from a foe you know you can't beat." Indeed, there was absolutely no judgment in her voice, just that same brusqueness that she'd been speaking with this whole time.
Weaver’s eyebrow raises just slightly at the pointed weapon, though it seems to be more of an extension of the woman’s arm than anything else. Still, she is aware, even if not on edge about it. ”It may have,” she says with a shrug, unable to say where the luxure came from. But if people could wander through the portals, who is to say creatures could not do the same. There is the possibility someone sent it through, though Weaver has no idea who might do such a thing. It is certainly possible. ”Though I feel like a magical forest would have some level of fire resistance. I suppose that’s just wishful thinking though.” Honestly, she knows almost nothing of the Greatwood (as the Fae like it), and she doesn’t mind letting her ignorance show.
The other woman does not judge at the idea of running from a dragon, and Weaver appreciates the common sense. Though most Caido Naturals had a little more common sense than their Outlander counterparts, it would seem. Not that she hasn’t run across some Naturals just as keen on trying to take down things that are better left alone. ”I take it you are a hunter?” She says, guessing, though it’s not really much of a stretch. The weapon, the way she seems to understand the idea of hunting. ”What sort of creatures does the Greatwood have?” she adds, curious about the Fae’s home.
”I’m Weaver, by the way.” she adds after a moment’s pause, realizing they had never actually bothered with names. Not that Weaver cares about pleasantries - they are not required - but names can be a useful thing.
Alina grunted at the other woman's words. "Why would you suppose that?" The question came out bluntly, and the Fae gave her companion an unimpressed look. Still, although Alina scowled, it was mostly in response to the damage done to the Greatwood.
Still, she nodded easily enough at the other woman's guess. "That I am." Snorting, the Fae shrugged. "It's a forest. I'm sure you can guess what kind of animals live in a forest. Deer, rodents, birds, that sort of thing." All technically true, though omitting some of the more fantastic beasts, since the last thing she wanted was more outsiders traipsing through the woods.
Narrowing her eyes at Weaver, Alina finally nodded again, something decisive about the motion. "Alina."
