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!
We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be
An intertwining of silence on the outskirts, polished, predatory movements serpentining through the midst of underbrush and leaves lasted only for so long – interrupted by the clatter of wagon wheels against the decayed, crunching fronds. He dragged it along until they reached a certain point, hunting not a resolution or goal for this morning’s sojourn. Previous discussions about seasons before them, the integral motions of Deepfrost, and its successor in LongNight, and the itch, the need, for motion, for action, brought him towards the forest, supposing he could at least get a head start on preparations.
Zuriel loomed nearby, already bored with the proceedings, nibbling on a few leaflets remaining here and there. Deimos took her quietude and remained just as hushed, pulling an ax from the wagon’s open, nearly empty expanse, and walking forward. His eyes drifted over eaves of timber, those still standing mighty and strong, capable of withstanding many more seasons and cycles, and to those that were fallen, left for naught but ultimate rot and decay. Tucking the tool along his belt, he inspected several logs, picking hardwood specifically, ones not completely eaten away from within – before rolling up his sleeves, taking hold of the munition, and beginning the follow through of sharpened edges against the tree, the sounds likely to reverberate through the wild expanse.
{open to anyone!}
DEIMOS
Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
No one had particularly made the Hollowed Grounds sound appealing to Morgan; most had described it as boring, dull, full of people too convinced of their own self importance. She'd left it til last in her places to explore (well, except the Draig Cordillera, but...she wasn't foolish enough for that) because it didn't even sound like that much of a threat, the people here apparently cowed enough by regular monsters to want to attract new enemies. Still, it was a new place that was accessible and could access Halo, so she wanted to check it out.
She'd brought Eunike on this particular venture, not having gotten much of a chance to take her out in the last while. The black and gold unicorn seemed very happy indeed to have the chance to explore and Morgan enjoyed feeling her simple pleasure at seeing the new place, stepping about trees and grasses that while similar to Halo in the few places without snow, were just different enough to make a difference.
What neither of them were expecting to see was another unicorn - Eunike stopped and stared ahead and when Morgan followed her gaze she saw a simply coloured but no less beautiful unicorn before them. "Do you want to meet it..?" She asked Eunike softly, and the slow tread forward answered her question.
She assumed she would not find the unicorn alone from the thunks echoing around the forest and she was right, seeing a man hacking away at a tree - a woodcutter, she assumed. Politely Morgan watched at a slight distance until the tree was felled or Deimos took a break, then brought Eunike forward a few more steps before sliding off. "I did not expect to see another Unicorn in this forest. I suppose some of you in this place must be beloved of the Gods, despite what I've heard." Holding a hand out towards Deimos she gave him the slightest of smiles, more of an implication of one than the real thing. "I am Captain Morgan. I've come to explore here from Halo."
We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be
A follow through of motions, again and again and again, nearly instinctual and inherent by the time he’d finished with one log. The pieces cut, carved, and broken apart from one another only left the splitting, and so he grabbed a few chunks of the wood to stabilize the other, while he reigned again, lifting the ax up to bring it down into the middle of the lumber. It split apart, and he placed the two portions within the wagon, muscles content, satisfied, with the work.
Zuriel, however, was instantly distracted by another approaching, and so both of them raised their heads, one predatory and akin to violence, the other noble, dignified, and curious – watching as the depths and shadows revealed a unicorn. Unfamiliar to both, the mountain narrowed his eyes in speculation, while the fellow equine whinnied, as if all counterparts were to be trusted immediately. Perhaps it was the case, perhaps not; for Deimos was unlikely to do the same.
The other individual was distinctly unknown as well – and so he remained unyielding, stoic, reticent, reserved, as the pair wandered forth, the words ensuing the only thing embarking an emotion, cold amusement in a feral chuckle. “Not in this circumstance. I rescued Zuriel from a landshark.” And had nearly lost his arm for it. The hand held out caused him to arch a brow, but the words following were something customary, familiar, contributions and establishments of the same warrior class. Captain Morgan was committed to memory, with a bow of his head in respect. “A fellow soldier,” and he extended his calloused palm in turn, a steady, strong shake between the pair. “Deimos, General of the Hollowed Grounds.”
DEIMOS
Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
Hearing that this particular unicorn was rescued from a Landshark was quite remarkable indeed and Morgan immediately gained some respect for the man before her. She had never seen one of the beasts but she'd heard tales and knew it was not something to be trifled with. "Eunike found me in the mountains. I am not sure where she came from."
Deimos' handshake was strong and he called attention to the fact that he was a soldier too; as Morgan let go of his hand she looked him up and down. Her first thought was that if it ever came to war between their nations she would likely see this man on the battlefield, though she hoped it would not come to that. Always be prepared, never be hopeful.
"You are a Captain within the Hollowed Grounds?" She asked, not sure if he was someone on a mission much like herself. "That would mean you served the queen..Rexanna, right? I have heard of her."
We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be
His gaze went from Morgan, and to the gild-laden unicorn – a beast of the mountains – something he would always cherish, honor, and respect. A nod was extended in turn to the equine, and Zuriel managed another accompanying whinny.
Her scrutinizing glance didn’t go unnoticed, only the slightest arch of his brow, a similar expanse accompanying warriors, battlefield tenacities, penetrating, piercing stares to ascertain who was braver, who was tougher, who was stronger. If he were still some king of his summit, he might have raised his chin in defiance; here, he was only amused, bending forward to grab hold of more logs, placing them with an echoing thump into the wagon. In truth, he’d always be some part of war hymns and dragoon strains, honed directly into his blood, into his heart, into his lungs, without chains or torment. Reflexes, muscle memories, inherent, primordial designs, etched and sketched into every muscle, every fragment, every inch of scarred lines and tenacious existence.
“More or less,” he responded at first, ax felling another portion of the log, splitting it in two, the pair following the same pattern as the others. It wasn’t much of a militia, mostly a volunteer basis, those willing to step forward and put themselves in harm’s way for the greater sake of their home. But the subject slipped to Rexanna, and the careful composure of his guard twisted back along his countenance. There’s had been a reversal of roles, though he’d never be stealthy or gifted in discourse to become a Thief of the Penumbra’s caliber, but he followed her lines and orders, complied with commanding dictations. The urge to protect someone he considered a part of his family, no matter what kind of blood flowed through her veins now, rendered and corded, a certain reticence skimming its way over his form. Careful, precise, the arch to his brow not fleeing. “Yes.” A pause as he threw in more wood, wondering just what the finality of her statement meant. “What have you heard?”
DEIMOS
Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
Deimos began to lift his logs into the wagon and Morgan went to help without a thought, picking up any on the ground and tossing them in too; when there was a task to be done she had always gone to assist. Behind them, Eunike gingerly approached Zuriel and studied the other unicorn, possibly trying to make a friend.
"More or less." She repeated, unsure of quite what he meant by that. "Do you train troops and guide them to conflict to protect your land?" There could be some argument about what the definition of a Captain was, but boiled down to it's essences that was how she would state her duties.
Morgan could tell Deimos was hesitant to tell her much about the Queen and chose her words carefully, not wanting to show too much disrespect to the Captain: if he perceived her as criticising his Queen so quickly into their meeting he might not tell her anything more and she did not want to damage relationships with the cabinets of other regions. "Not much. That she is the sixth in a line of recent...and volatile rulers. That she is Ascended...yet also Abandoned." Morgan frowned, unsure how she felt about that. "The man I spoke to saw her as competent at least. Would you agree with that assessment?"
We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be
Zuriel, for all her haughty, condescending features and traits bestowed upon humans, was all too eager to accept acknowledgment and amiability amongst her own kind. The unicorn encouraged Eunike’s approach, a bob and twist of her head, and in perhaps her most charitable action to date, invited and extended a branch of leaves.
Deimos nodded at her help and assistance with the timber, and he maneuvered back to the remains of the log, lifting his ax once more, the power and strength piercing downward once more to fell them into pieces. He listened all the while, deliberate measures and precise distinctions on his tongue; for the most part, he didn’t want the Hollowed Grounds to appear weak or vulnerable to another kingdom. The beast had been a sovereign for too long to let those ruminations or sentiments escape; a quick roll of his shoulders indicating nothing. “Yes.” But there hadn’t been any movement of troops – no reason to – they’d had too many other circumstances miring their way through the terrain. Besides, these weren’t a people like the Reaper’s Basin inhabitants, rampaging through territories with vengeance and vitriol – the Grounders rose through ash, resurgences of cycles and seasons of alterations, traumas, and tragedies. “We have avoided conflict since Zariah.” At least, in matters of militia parameters. He still trained. He still guided. He still influenced.
His attention deviated back to the notions of Rexanna; immersed in some diplomacy, in some political role he never intended to sink into again. Except it was a better conclusion than he’d anticipated, and there was no need of correction or assembling other points, facts, or figures. “Yes.” Another portion of wood was thrown into the wagon, back and forth, not requiring any thought. “They are all true.” The shift of leadership roles and reigns had been ridiculous at best, quick, stupid, ineffectual turnovers after Zariah’s disappearance, and then the subsequent ones trying to make their way into something resembling distinctions. But Rexanna had experience, quietly keeping the peace instead of stoking any flames. “How do you regard Neron’s leadership? Or Zariah’s?” Deimos had heard almost nothing about the former, and had a multitude of opinions and experiences from the latter.
DEIMOS
Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
Eunike happily pawed at the ground when Zuriel accepted her friendship, rubbing her nuzzle against the other unicorns in a very eager show of affection: Morgan often housed her in the Palace stables which definitely had plenty of horses for her to see, but it was extremely rare she had a chance to make friends with another Unicorn.
As Zariah's name came up yet again Morgan paused, hand on the edge of Deimos' wagon; if she had known when Neron had appointed the woman how infamous she truly was she would have objected stronger. "Yes..I have heard she was disposed as Queen here. Were you involved in that fight, then? How did it go?" Deimos seemed like the sort to give her an accurate report, if nothing else.
It was not surprising that Deimos agreed that his Queen was fit for her job: Any loyal soldier would be expected to say as much; even Morgan who had had doubts about Neron's work lately would not openly say so to an enemy hastily. Oh, but then Deimos asked her directly and the short but definite hardening of her jaw and sigh were tells she wish she could have avoided. "...Neron is...he is doing sufficiently. I do not know enough about Zariah as Queen; as a colleague in Neron's council I can tell you she is...difficult." That was putting it lightly.
We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be
Zuriel tossed her head, another small whinny extended, while her maw brushed against Eunike’s. Spoiled rotten, Zuriel often journeyed around when she felt like it, or when asked by Deimos because he or someone else was bound to get injured on another expedition; but their sojourns hadn’t exalted any other unicorns. Isla was the only other one the Sword was aware of until now – and he’d been saved by Remi’s companion down in caves, before strength and might had returned to him. “Is she capable of healing?” His nod was extended towards Eunike, the presses of gold and black.
More wood loaded into the wagon after several swings of his ax, felling pieces of lumber into two, pairs taken apart in the threshold of the compartment. Quiet once more, he listened to the denizen of Zariah – an inclination of his head, pondering how much to reveal of their underground rebellion, if it mattered. The truth was though, that there’d been no assault or siege, as he’d so longed for, no violent uprising, no vicious, unwinding coup after all of her monumental threats and manipulations. “There was no skirmish.” His sigh thereafter detailed the disappointment; he, along with so many others, would’ve relished and savored taking her apart, tossing her off a throne, leaving her mired, mauled, and desecrated. “One day there was a notice that Zariah had gone on a secret mission out of the Hollowed Grounds. Edrei took up her role.” While they’d been plotting and trying to circumvent outcomes, the Rapacious had been concocting who else would fill in the stead. “Then sovereignty was a mess.” A shrug through his shoulders, indicating nothing about the ridiculous stature and nature of thereafter, rampantly shifting and changing hands within days, sometimes hours.
The knowledge of Neron’s leadership might have said a lot about their loyalties to kingdoms; but Deimos knew his queen to a fault. Neorn was an Outlander just as much as the rest of them – likely not as known, and hopefully not as polarizing, as his cousin. He snorted at her insinuation of Zariah. “Sounds like she has not changed much.” From all the things he’d been told about her magical, combative training, she was still along the same lines: arrogant, overconfident, and overbearing.
DEIMOS
Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
Catching a glimpse of the Unicorns making friends out of the corner of her eye Morgan smiled, feeling Eunike's thrill at finding one of her own kind. "Yes, she is. It has been useful when I am out on patrol and come across one of my guards in need of assistance." Nothing serious had needed mending yet thankfully, mostly small injuries from trips or minor altercations, but she knew it could have further application if needed.
The tale of how Zariah had left was an odd one and Morgan frowned, immediately more suspicious of the woman in her council. "She just...left? How..odd. That does not bode well for her commitment to the council in Halo.." Sighing she shook her head, once again chastising herself internally for revealing too much, but she seemed unable to help herself when it came to this one topic. "You did not attempt to take the throne then?" She asked with a slight smile on her lips, looking up to Deimos.
We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be
Another healing balm – his eyes went towards the pair, regarding them with a keen eye, before nodding. “Zuriel does the same.” For himself, mainly, since no one’s incantations could seal or stitch away his numerous lacerations and injuries. He’d wondered if there were other abilities conjured within, or if they were mainly presiders of assuaging, soothing gifts – a pondering for another time, perhaps, when he’d met more, when others persisted and walked the earth.
His hands were full of the lumber again, lifting and loading, the echoes less resounding as the wagon began to bear the weight. Zariah’s departure had been odd, considering the amount of wreckage, havoc, and pandemonium she caused – he’d once considered her as an agent of menace, treachery, and dictatorship, and the fact that she’d leave her remnants, fragments, and figments of cruelty behind seemed unlike the Merciless. He shrugged, uncertain of how else to explain it either, when all they’d received was a board notice and Edrei’s short-lived reign. “Maybe a blessing in disguise then,” he smirked, mulling over the possibilities of Zariah simply up and leaving again. Why would always be the ultimate consideration, and where she’d go thereafter. There were far too many she’d maimed and mauled within the Grounds to ever dream of seizing or prospering here once more, but there was no telling where her machinations waxed and waned. Unfortunately, those layers involved evasion, leaving a less than satisfying result. A mauling, a coup, would’ve granted some form of idle contentment.
At her last question, he actually extended a loud rumble of laughter. Morgan wouldn’t know that he’d reigned long before, in worlds apart, had devastated, had marred, had plunged swords and blades into chests, had invaded, had captured, had defined Reaper conflagrations – and had no thought towards experiencing it again. “No.” There’d been plenty of others willing to take the mantle, eager for the throne. A cheekier smile, perhaps a little goading, followed suit. “Would you?” From Zariah? From Neron?
DEIMOS
Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
"Yes...I didn't know it was an ability unicorns held, until she approached one of my injured men." Morgan smiled faintly as she looked at her companion, very fond indeed of the Gold and Black unicorn, her beautiful friend that she'd become very close to in the last while. "It will be useful if I ever have to take her to battle." While she was close to Eunike, both of them knew they were both soldiers and she would not hesitate to take the Unicorn with her to a battlefield.
Deimos' comments about Zariah drew a snort from her and she nodded. Not that she thought it would happen: Zariah seemed more than content to sit in her position and conduct cruel tests.
His own laugh came as a surprise and she raised her eyebrows, though her smile faded as he turned the question back on her and she had to give a serious answer, voice confident and flat: "Yes. It is not something I would hesitate to do if I thought it necessary." She didn't know the first thing about being the leader, but she was confident she would be able to try if she had to.
We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be
Useful for battles, or for any other ridiculous situations they found themselves in. He said nothing of the cataclysms across the Hollowed Grounds, of the toils and tribulations they’d all brought upon themselves at some point or another. Perhaps in Halo they thought smarter, much like within the Basin, utilizing their schemes and strategies for something other than impulsive, impetuous maneuvers. They were often too caught in the moment here, stretched beyond their means in one capacity or another – prepared for completely different alterations, despite experience after experience. So he nodded, his eyes cast directly upon Zuriel, whose haughty indignation towards him said all he needed to know.
Her answer to his question however, brought conclusions and possibilities back to focus. The confidence resounding from the Captain was something he’d expect from a warrior, borne from battles, from hardships, from training, where a majority of those underlying apprehensions and misgivings were numbed away. So he loaded the wood into the wagon again, his head tilted a fraction. “Do you find it necessary now?” Quiet and careful, a neutral tone – only having heard the latest of magical trainings expositions from Weaver – something about released ursurs upon fledgling enchantment users. Asinine, but a typical Zariah move.
DEIMOS
Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
Deimos had a way of saying a lot with very little and Morgan paused after his question, hands still on the wood she had lifted to help place into the wagon. On the one hand she knew she really should stop here and not answer the question at all, revealing Halo's weaknesses to a potential enemy right away seeming rather stupid...on the other, she was beginning to make plans, and maybe an ally was not a bad idea.
"...Not now. But soon? Maybe." She placed the wood down, with more force than necessary. "It is not something I ever wanted to consider. I have always been loyal to Halo. But these Outlanders that have moved in to rule us..." Morgan shook her head. "My father would have fought them at every instance, and I am beginning to wonder if I ought to be as well."
