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!
Noah was brought back to earth by Deimos' humility. He acknowledged his strength and prowess without beaming beneath Noah's amazement. It made the hunter smile. "That is a perfect plan." It would be a long trek, but it would be monumentally easier with the sleigh than it would be for the men to take the ursur back by hand, dragging it back to the Citadel.
Unsheathing a knife from the belt around his waist, Noah turned and set to work on the ursurs. They both needed gutting. Noah worked swiftly and skillfully, cutting into the body cavity of the smaller of the two beasts to start. He cut away at fat and sinew until he was at the organs. He disposed of what needed to be disposed of but left the heart and the liver inside. "Have you killed ursur before?" Noah asked as he worked. It was Halovian tradition that your first ursur kill required something -- eating part of its heart. "It's said in legend that if you eat part of the heart of your first ursur kill you will gain it's strength."
i'd fashioned my own cross been crushed by its weight there's no stronger message than dirt in your face
Deimos had been well experienced in gutting deer; it’d been a main staple of several lands he’d occupied throughout his lives. He presumed it wouldn’t be much different upon a massive bear, but watched, scrutinized, and witnessed Noah’s prowess with the knife anyway, intending to follow suit with the other ursur. The hunter was quick, fast, and efficient, taking apart the unnecessary portions, slashing at sinew and fat, tissue and flesh. So the monolith followed suit, wandering back to the other, larger carcass, and proceeding to follow through in the same steps – the residual patterns still in place, curved along the hilt of his dagger, in the calloused weight of his palms. More blood to be spilt across the snow.
He listened all the while, narrowing his gaze to stare at the confines of the carcass as Noah spoke. “No.” There’d been no need to travel to Halo to maul and maim one of the fierce animals, they’d had their own repertoire of flora and fauna to gather and take home, to feed the countryside. The semblance of the legends drew him in, if only for curiosity’s sake, muffling a snort. He’d only ever relied on his own strength, his own regard, his own bearing, but wasn’t about to handwave off a part of this world’s culture, a segment of traditions. It’d be a very Outlander thing to do – and he’d usually done his best to adapt. He rendered his inquiry in a neutral tone, pondering while he worked. “Did you complete this act?”
The hunter's smile broadened as the warlord spoke. He had moved to begin the process of transferring the woolly creatures from ice to sleigh, but turned briefly. His face wrinkled with delight despite the cold air that bit at his nose. "Yes. I was fourteen. I was with my father." The words fell from smiling lips with such fondness it was nearly warm enough to melt the snow that surrounded the pair of men. He remembered the hunt like it was yesterday. It wasn't unlike today, except instead of having snuck up on the ursurs, the ursurs had snuck up on them. It was Noah, his father, and the two older Hale siblings. The four of them worked together under the quick instruction of his father, but it was Noah who dealt the killing blow and it was Noah who ate the heart. Now, Noah gestured down for Deimos. He wanted to see what the general would do when faced with something that seemed mostly gruesome to the outside world, but held so much value in the lives of Halovian hunters.
i'd fashioned my own cross been crushed by its weight there's no stronger message than dirt in your face
Based on the hunter’s reaction, the ritual seemed to convey significant meaning. Deimos could recall similar rites and ceremonial inflections along the Moonlit Tides, but they weren’t so similar in nature towards maiming of creatures; rather in the skill in seeing how far one could go. If they could touch particular stones as they made their way out to sea, proving their endurance, their fortitude, their might, each time they wound their way past. No youth born beside the ocean was worth their salt if they couldn’t bear the waves, move with the current, oblige the ocean’s strength, adhere to its mastery, its dominance, and its compelling force. That was how they’d learned to be such themselves; an early, early instilling in a young boy’s mind, and the strength that had formed his limbs, his spirit, his heart, his soul.
His father and mother had watched too – and like most children, he’d yearned to make them proud.
Who knew if that even maintained its weight now.
Deimos could’ve dug deeper, asked about families and histories, but he wondered if it was too much to pry into. So he smiled in return, an off-hand, half-grin that only reached one side of his mouth, before glancing back at the open chest of the bear.
So he’d abide by tradition, in his own way.
The hellhound alterations came again, far more fierce and ferocious and bloodthirsty in its carnivorous aspects, taking hold of the heart in his mouth with little fanfare. No obliging decorum. No demonstration or serenade. Then he bit down, taking hold of a part, the flesh in his mouth, and then sliding down his throat; the rendering complete – by a great show of his empty jaw.
Noah took a step back as Deimos moved forward. He crouched down some and rested his elbows on his knees as the hellhound set to the task. His smile did not falter, it only grew wider and deeper and wrinkled his face more as the warlord devoured his prize. As he finished, the hunter surged up and thrust both his fists in the air. He hollered and whooped in celebration for the victory and triumph over the beasts. While the two men had not had much trouble bringing down the ursur given their attuned forms, it was truly a dangerous feat they had accomplished.
Still smiling, Noah sighed and clapped the man on the back (man or wolf, he didn't care) and set back to work on the ursurs. With the help of Deimos he was sure they would be able to lift the pair of predators onto the sleigh and bring them back to the Citadel without problems.
-FINISHED
i'd fashioned my own cross been crushed by its weight there's no stronger message than dirt in your face
