living wasteland
regional quest
Noah Olson
Chief of Public Affairs / Hunter

Age: 28 | Height: 6'2 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 4 - Strg: 16 - Dext: 15 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 13
Played by: Time Offline
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Posts: 397
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#1
NOAH

Noah was learning more and more about the gods, and it was a good thing for him. When he was asked to bring an offering to Frey in regards to their fortification of Halo, the hunter eagerly agreed. He took the knowledge he had gained from Phoebe to gather his offering before he bundled it up and headed out towards the Sea of Glass shrine. When he reached the gates of the Citadel he took his pack off his back, shifted into his polar bear form, and nuzzled his head through the strap of the bag and swung it over his neck. He felt safer in this form crossing the tundra than in his reindeer form, and his lynx form would not be able to carry his bag well.

Striding away from the Citadel, Noah headed for the shrine.

Finally when he reached it, he shifted back. For being Leafchange in Halo, the day was unusually calm and warm. The sun peaked from behind clouds every now and then, shining down on the sea and glittering over ice. Noah took a deep breath and admired the land before him before moving directly to the shrine on the shore of the great, cold water. The hunter knelt down and set his bag at his side, opening it carefully and placing the fruits he and Delphine had traded for in Torchline. Although they were dried to preserve their eating abilities, their colors still shone brightly: mangos, papayas, and pineapple were still brilliant, fiery colors as he placed them before the shrine. Next to the dried fruits, Noah placed four small paintings Delphine had made. They were each on leaves she had gathered from the Torchline jungle, but they depicted what he suspected was her view from her Hollowed Grounds cave in each season. He thought they were beautiful, and captured well what Frey tended.

"Frey, I offer these gifts to you in hopes that you will find favor with my people -- please, help us fortify our home to sustain life." He prayed, quietly, and honestly, and true.

will you hold the line
when every one of them has given up and given in
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
General of Halo

Age: 27 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 12 - Strg: 38 - Dext: 38 - Endr: 40 - Luck: 38
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
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#2
I carried my own ashes to the mountains
Deimos had not been one to pray to Frey. Other than years before during Fiat Lux, he’d kept heed and away from their aspects, especially before their split; his preferences, if he had any at all, lending more towards Safrin. However, dutiful measures and the ongoing process of labor, efforts, and machinations surrounding Halo dictated that offerings be held, honored, and made towards the deity. The Sword wouldn’t be the one to mar or mark it at bay, simply because of discomforts or the blinding, glimpsing unknown.

He marched along in hellhound roots and paws, gliding across the snow as a sharp, Stygian outlier, cast in sable, onyx, and black upon the stark white. The fur provided him the ability to nuance throughout the landscape and tundra without ceasing, without chill, without other provisions, and the bag strapped along his neck provided the rest – the contributions carefully wrapped and placed within before he angled towards the shrine.

The beast wasn’t the only one though, and he snorted slightly at Noah’s presence – not taking the silent individual for one in such aspects either. But the world churned and burned at different rates, and no judgement or further scrutiny would pass through his mind. Instead, he shifted once more, human form again, a nod extended towards the hunter’s way, “Noah,” and a rumbling of tones as he situated and pulled out his own provisions to slide next to the councilman’s.

Fruit, snagged and snatched from Torchline as well, in a variety of citrus adornments next to a round bowl of cream, potted seedlings, already beginning to rise despite the ongoing chill (his enchantments might’ve had a hand in it), and wood carvings, meant to depict aspects of the lands they all journeyed within (mountains for Halo, the beach for Torchline, fields for the Hollowed Grounds, forests for the Greatwood, and lava plumes for The Climb). Only once he’d taken them all, given them their due space, did he bow his head, striving to formulate some measures of adequate speech for the occasion, silent, but capable of being carried across the attuned voids. Please take these offerings in gratitude towards your assistance in securing Halo.
DEIMOS
Noah Olson
Chief of Public Affairs / Hunter

Age: 28 | Height: 6'2 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 4 - Strg: 16 - Dext: 15 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 13
Played by: Time Offline
Change author:
Posts: 397
MP:
#3
NOAH

Noah was not left to his prayer and offering for long before the sound of another caught his attention. He leaned back some, balancing on the balls of his feet and his toes. Deimos was easily recognizable at this point, and the hunter nodded his own greeting to him. Even when he was not sick, he was a quiet man. Noah respected that, his own stoicism something that native Halovians knew well. He was always the quiet one, and to have another man who held the same mannerisms was nice. Noah did not feel like he had to fill the air with words when he was around the warlord -- what needed to be said would be said.

He watched as the Sword laid his own offerings down to Frey. They were similar to his, which gave the hunter hope. It seemed that those outside of Halo were more in tune with the gods and their heralds, and for Deimos' offering to compliment Noah's made the hunter feel at ease. Finally, he felt, he had done something right in regards to the gods. He wanted to ask the warlord his feelings, opinions, and knowledge of the gods, but now was not the time nor the place--and, Noah felt a little off about it. When he had asked Loren, the Firebrand was amazed that Noah did not know more as a native of this world, and an attuned. Noah couldn't remember the god who helped him attune -- he had done it so young, and trauma had taken the forefront over some of his childhood memories. It was hard to recall something that did not center around his parents. He likened that fact to the people in his life telling him that if he remembered them, they weren't really gone.

Noah knew better than that, now, however.

will you hold the line
when every one of them has given up and given in
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
General of Halo

Age: 27 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 12 - Strg: 38 - Dext: 38 - Endr: 40 - Luck: 38
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 2,703
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#4
I carried my own ashes to the mountains
Had Noah asked, Deimos wouldn’t have judged along the parameters of deities – not from his standpoint, which had only been altered after his arrival to Caido. His disposition towards the primordial, celestial beings amidst Isilme, where they machinated hate and craved war, and Helovia, where they were either absent, indifferent, or manipulative, varied here, but only after experience after experience. And even then, he was relatively hesitant, asking for information, or for assistance in things he otherwise couldn’t do himself. Perhaps it was due to the Abandoned blood in his veins, beyond his control and nothing he shunned, hid, or found shameful; he utilized the ichor, the pulsing, pervading tactics to protect, shield, and ensure others were out of harm’s way. If he was going to weighed differently because of how he was born, he wouldn’t carry the same prejudice into this venue, this realm, this timeframe.

But instead the silence flickered and lingered on, and the beast waited for some signal, some sign, uncertain of how these offerings filtered into the hierarchy of things. Waiting, perhaps, as nature intended, kneeling there before the shrine, embedded and infused with the cold, content in the chill. He managed to incline his head, a slight tilt that could’ve been inherently feline or merely predacious, a raptorial scrutiny, towards the quiet, hushed companion, and for once he found himself needing to push words into the range. The semblance almost made him laugh.

Rather than break apart the stillness though, he aligned it towards the attuned bond – his eyes circumventing back to the ground, to the snow, pulsing a wave of gratitude, an air of appreciation and recognition for the other man’s efforts. Thank you again for helping me when I was ill. For it might’ve been just as easy to ignore him, there, inclined on a sick bed, completely out of his mind.
DEIMOS


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