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!
Strolling shirtless through the Port to the beach, Falke moves quietly and at his own pace, eyes and ears open, a delighted grin on face. The buzz - the noise - the people! Snippets of rough language float towards him while curses about and yet there is a hive-like activity to the area, he thinks. Everyone knows their role, their place, how to get from point A to point B; there are hundreds of relationships here, in this microcosm of Haulani.
If he wouldn’t have been so obviously in the way, Falke might have stopped and watched it all. But already, his off-kilter stride slowed him down a bit and pointed him out; pausing would have drawn too much attention to someone who just wants to play the innocent voyeur. He makes his way down to the Coast with his leather satchel across his chest, dark skin and beard almost allowing the Fixer to blend in with the most rugged of the Torchliners.
Ah, but sand is far more difficult to navigate - something the studious man had anticipated, but never experienced - which leads him to stop and find a large rock to sit on instead. Falke pulls out his journal and begins to take notes, every now and then looking out at the sea or around at the people on the beach, his pencil ever moving.
Noah had come with Delphine to Torchline because she had asked, but part of his time here was needed to get information for the Monster Hunter's Guild. He had recently joined, under the eye of Kiada. He told her that he and his companion would be traveling here, and that he would gather information about the wildlife for them. Today, he had done just that. He spent most of the morning talking with locals just outside the inn he had Delphine were staying at. He asked questions of what types of creatures he could find here. One local sent him to the coast to observe the cloud mantas. The hunter was obedient.
Armed with his own journal and sitting atop a rock, Noah sat for hours watching the cloud mantas move back and forth from the beach to the water. He scribbled all the notes of his observation, mixing in with them what the local had told him, as well as sketching in the differences he saw. He noted the differences in size and body composition in the adolescents and the adults--most notably, the presence of the crystal growing from the elder manta's heads.
Most of Falke’s knowledge about the world outside Stormbreak is secondhand. He hadn’t expected to be asked to leave the Capitol, so this is a trip that must certainly be taken advantage of. The descriptions of the flora, fauna, and people rest comfortably in the back of his head as he observes, making comparisons and notes about expectations versus reality, where some ‘general’ knowledge might need to be updated because it doesn’t seem quite right. And of course, in the back of his mind, Falke is building a case for him to take more trips, for research’s sake.
Naturally, he, too, finds Cloud Mantas fascinating. And the self-proclaimed (mostly in jest) cripple does have a love affair with water. The idea of killing a Cloud Manta, though - that is difficult for the healer-cum-fixer to stomach.
He sighs in consternation, casting his gaze to the one other man who’s also been similarly perched for nigh on an hour now. “Discover anything interesting?” he calls out, waving his own journal in the air to identify himself as a fellow researcher. Open and inviting, Falke squints curiously at the other man, hoping to initiate some conversation. It would be good to talk to some locals.
Without the interuption from the other observer, Noah could have sat even longer watching these creatures. He never tired of gathering information about the world around him. Flora and Fauna were exciting -- it was the people that were exhausting. He wrote any and all observation he made in the journal, ready to bring it back to the guild he had recently joined. He knew Kiada and Chulane would eventually take their own trip to the coastal region, but if he could contribute to the knowledge of the Monster Hunter's Guild, he would like to.
When the other man called out, Noah turned his head towards him.He closed his journal, and raised a hand to his brow to block the sun and shield his eyes. "Everything about these guys is interesting." He called over, a laugh rumbling behind the end of his statement. He wrapped the leather cord around his journal and scooted off the rock he had perched on. He moved across the hot sand towards the other man. "What do you know about them?"
“Just the basics,” Falke says, with more than a little obvious disappointment. “They both swim and fly, eat moss, and those stones on their heads allow people to breathe underwater if worn a certain way.” Turning back to look at the Mantas, his eyes, warm and merry at first, seem to grow quite sad. “And though I see the need for that here, it does seem like a sad thing to kill it for.” If Torchers also ate Manta meat, that might be okay in Falke’s book, but to just discard the creature seems both wasteful and selfish.
“If I could find an already dead one, I’d probably take it back to study.” Ah, but he’s made this all about him now and he internally chides himself. He turns to the bearded man with a curiously appraising gaze and an inviting half-smile. “Your question indicates you aren’t from here either.”
He’s about to ask more about the man when a bird floats down and lands on the beach about six feet from the two men. It tilts its head this way and that, its beady eyes perhaps looking for something. White and gray, it lets out a single squawk before tentatively creeping closer.
As the stranger listed things he had noticed, Noah nodded and examined his own list. One of the things that the stranger did not list, that Noah had written in his chicken-scratch shorthand, was a question: did the people of Torchline eat these creatures? They were large, but he wasn't sure if they were filled with a meat that would bring sustenance or if they were mostly fibrous tissue and ligament. Noah agreed with the stranger, however, as he continued. If there was one that had already died, it would be interesting to study it further -- but Noah was not one just to end a life to gain more knowledge. Knowledge wasn't always necessary, and Noah felt strongly about sustaining the world.
The stranger seemed observant of more than just the local wildlife. Noah nodded, very comfortable in the fact that he stood out in this warm climate. "No, you're right, I am not from here." He started, moving to hold his pencil and notebook in one hand and stick out another, offering it to the stranger. "Noah Olson, from Halo." He introduced himself, shaking the stranger's hand firmly and courteously if given the opportunity. "I'd assume you're not a local here either, given that you're studying these guys." He gestured with his chin over his shoulders towards the mantas.
How much to disclose? To influence? Falke knew that these kind of questions would come up, but as he is no Eye or Orator, he briefly panics about how to handle the statement about not being a local. While calm and unflummoxed on the outside, he’s momentarily paddling like a duck on the inside.
“You’re also right,” he ends up saying after a minute, trying to buy himself some time by pretending to gaze out to the water again. “I’m not.” He smiles - a little secretive and impish, but otherwise very genuine. “Pleasure to meet you, Noah. I’m Falke Guildenstern.” That’s pronounced falc, like the first half of falcon, if anyone’s wondering. There’s some irony in it, he often thinks, because his body ended up being so very, very earthbound.
Glancing to the sky, the Fixer can’t help but notice how far the sun’s moved and makes a disappointed face. “Sorry to introduce myself and dash, but I didn’t realize how long I’ve been out here.” He begins to put his notebook and pencil away, settling the bag on him in a way that doesn’t restrict his movement and turns back to Haulani. “Have a good day,” the merry man offers with another smile before starting to navigate his way through the ever-tricky sand.
