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!
02-02-2021, 12:10 PM (This post was last modified: 02-03-2021, 11:03 PM by Mabel.)
Come sit right here and sleep while I slip poison in your ear
A farm child, born and raised, Mabel had seen to many a building project. An accord of siblings ensured steady, stable hands while her father repaired barns, woodwork nailed together in the cobbles of their destitute world. It was the experience necessary for this project – setting up a formidable trap for the monsters seeking them out.
She left her thoughts on the parameters out – exuding an unnecessary sigh, uncertain of how effective this would be. An effort, to be certain, that might give them an edge. Or another piece, semblance, for potential slaughter.
Wafting away the notions, she dutifully carried out pieces of timber she’d found along other abandoned houses in the settlement, dragging the along old pathways, a scavenger instead of a hunter for these moments. She’d presumed Aamu would help her snag the rest, and some nails too – and before long they’d had a decent pile to work from. Some could be utilized for poles and beams, for supportive regions, for some manner of stability doomed and damned to go up in flames – and then incendiary instruments and tools were nearby too, placed on one of the stone pillars.
Would the demons even believe people would dare inhabit the world out here, again?
She eyed the supplies, and hoping, with the extension of notices and hearsay, others would bring along similar factions. They had a lot to do and a shortened amount of time to complete it.
--
PQ to complete a trojan house in the Ruins for LongNight! Feel free to bring supplies/tools, etc.! PQ to move along when all slots are filled!
Well, they were absolutely doomed, but Sam supposed he may as well try to bolster their chances while he could. The fake house plan was quite clever; at the very least it might take the attention of the beasts away for a while as everyone came to their senses and gave up on this mission. Arriving in a sombre dark suit with a grim expression, it would be clear Sam was in a poor mood lately, far more grumpy and less frightened than his usual upsets.
He looked over the supplies; how many times now had he helped people build, change, create...how many times had it actually mattered? Trying to swallow down the cloud of nihilistic gloom that was floating around him for the evening, he gave Mabel a weak smile. He knew she had recently come back from the dead, but they had never been too close before that, so a heartfelt welcome felt insincere.
"I'm here to help however I can." Sam said simply, looking about to see if anyone else would join in.
Like a proper Queen, she comes with a small army of laborers; the house needn’t be super sturdy, but it should be able to withstand some potential bumps. The team has more or less dismantled another abandoned house in the Settlement and moved its parts here, where the quad can work on a new one - plus some extra hands, if need be. Once they deliver their wheelbarrow and pallets full of wood, nails, a saw, and yes, even glass (though she’d be surprised if they use it), Wessex asks them to stay, just in case.
They grumble a bit, but end of up staying. “The good news is that this doesn’t have to be nice or fancy, it just needs to be big, I think.” How many monsters are there? No one knows. How much space do they physically take up? Again, no one knows. Wessex sighs and looks at the empty area. “What do you think?” she asks the assembled. “One story. A box with a slanted roof. Two doors, with bars on the outside. No windows?”
Glass breaks. Glass could let the monsters out. It could also save someone if the wrong person is trapped inside.
and I've only got my brittle bones to break the fall
Of course, Aamu has been slaving away with Mabel, scavenging resources and hauling nearby timbers before disappearing towards the Settlement. He mentioned something about lanterns before he left, and when he arrives, he is hauling his own little cart at the tail end of Wessex's caravan. He eyes the materials with appreciation as he slides up next to Mabel again, giving a polite nod to Sam. At this point he's seen him around, and knows he's the Ascended bookstore owner and that he has the loveliest, fluffiest cat and Aamu's actually dying to pet her.
"I'm fine with or without windows," he offers (really uselessly) with a small shrug. "Messy interior or no? I stocked up on some lanterns if we want to light some for bait and leave inside. Oh, and oil and scrap cloth to prep it for burning." What's better than a Molotov cocktail? There's a handful empty bottles and jugs in his cache too, as he's not entirely sure how they'll be doing this, but he figures a ranged assault to light it all up is the best. And you never know with magic. Better come prepared.
Aamu brings a bunch of lighting materials (candles and lanterns), a bunch of lamp oil and scrap cloth and flasks.
Come sit right here and sleep while I slip poison in your ear
A formidable, persistent, capable crew arrived – her head inclining towards Samuel, Wessex (though – based on the measure of force and ideas she brought, Mabel had to wonder why she didn’t run this operation herself), and her favorite for the moment, Aamu. Once they were all situated, the grumbling men nearby included, the youth listened to the Wraith’s proclamations, tilting her head vaguely. Big. One story. A box with a slanted roof. Two doors, bars on the outside. No windows. “We can store and line it with hay as well.” Things that caught quickly, set ignition alight.
She pulled her hair back, hands going to her hips after a second or two, eyeing the supplies, the tools, the people. “Let’s start on the floor, and work our way up.” With the planned design in place, she laid out, designated positions, wherever some would feel comfortable; she didn’t mind whichever task. “We need someone to lay out the perimeter, two to place the timber, and one to start nailing.” Her gaze lifted to all of them, figuring they were capable enough of contemplating where they’d best be suited. The rest of the group could fill in – depending on how much they seemed inclined to follow orders.
--
Pick a task!
1. One to set out the perimeter of the floor
2. Two to place the timber
3. One to start nailing the wood in place
No post order! PQ will move along when everyone has posted!
Still reeling from his meeting with the Voice and discussion with Zeph, Sam was finding it hard to get into the headspace of actually planning for this fight; he was a pair of hands, and that was the most he could offer, nodding along to the ideas. Would this actually work? He had no idea, and he doubted it would work for a lot of monsters...but he didn't have anything better, so...
Hearing the orders and looking over the space, he spoke up: "I can lay out a perimeter. I've spent a lot of time here...I know how the houses are laid out, generally." Enough to make something that looked like one from outside, real and not obviously a trap. Using ridges and marks already in the ground from a building once-stood, Sam begin to go around and mark out the edges with stones and discarded bricks so that the labourers would know where to build.
and I've only got my brittle bones to break the fall
She's grown, thawed from her cold dark rest, dried from the ocean's grip. Now, she commands them with ease, gathers the offered ideas and transforms them into a plan. Aamu leans forward under the pretense of inspecting one of the oil casks to hide his proud smile.
The tasks are straight-forward, and as Aamu secures his cart he nods approvingly at Sam's choice. Clever. He's starting to suspect they'll need all the cleverness they can get if they want to survive.
"I'll help with laying out the timber," he announces, waiting for his comrade-to-be to join him before grabbing the first of it together with them. Aamu works easily, doing his best to facilitate the carrying and follow Samuel's perimeter markings well for the outline.
Why not, indeed? Maybe this is the Wessex’s way of encouraging growth, confidence, and a take-charge element in Mabel.
This is the first she’s seen of Sam during any of this prep, a fact that doesn’t sit particularly well with her. Unaware of his plea to the Voice, she recalls his fears and finds it asinine that someone so afraid of this endeavor is barely lifting a finger to help.
At least Aamu also comes prepared.The real question is how to integrate what they now know about the Monsters. As everyone else takes their pick, the Wraith follows up with what’s left, telling the people to sort the wood into floorboards and other-boards as she grabs a bag of nails and a hammer. Or go get hay to strew about on the floor. Something. Anything. Following in Aamu’s wake, Wessex nails down the floorboards after he’s set them.
------------------
Wesse nails shit down and tells the NPC crew to sort the wood appropriately and get some hay.
02-04-2021, 10:41 PM (This post was last modified: 02-04-2021, 10:42 PM by Mabel.)
Come sit right here and sleep while I slip poison in your ear
Mabel, unaware of Samuel's inherent doubts, gave him a firm nod – and waited for the perimeter to be set into place. There was a level of trust instilled within those small, insignificant moments – that even if they might have disagreed with the plans, with the whole damned thing, at least they were trying. All in this together – fortunately or not.
With Wessex and her entourage going forth to nailing things down, Mabel joined Aamu. Comfortable and at ease, they could both follow Sam’s layout with little issue, adjoining timber and laying them out accordingly, so the Wraith’s crew could come along and nail them together. Before long, the value of teamwork adhered, and they had a floor.
The youth hardly cared how sturdy or supportive the thing maintained or remained; its sole purpose would be to enact as a potential snare anyway. With the new information, she wasn’t sure how else to proceed, where it wouldn’t seem so forced or misplaced.
She stepped back, considering the next round of efforts. “We should start placing in some support beams, and timber alongside for the walls.” Enough that the thing would remain upright long enough to become a shining, flickering siege. “I need one to hold the beams as we go around, one to nail them, and two to start placing the wood in for the exterior.” There – and they’d be permitted to go off on their directions and accord.
--
Next set of tasks!
- One to hold support beams
- One to nail them
- Two to start placing wood for the walls
“I’ll hold the support beams” Wessex offers after a moment, aware that the others’ strengths may not match her own. Letting the rest of them sort themselves out regarding the tasks, Wessex goes to the timber pile and selects four beams that might be best suited for the job. Then, it what might be a very show-off-y move (hint: it absolutely is), she picks up the whole thing and takes it to where it’s supposed to be, dropping it off her shoulder and holding it steady for whomever is going to come by to set it in place.
And so on and so forth, until all four beams are up.
Sam stepped back from his work, quite pleased with the perimeter he'd set out, then looked over to see Wessex carrying all the beams like a strongman at a circus. Well, they all had different talents, and years of making books and manuscripts had given him a gift for precision. "I'll lay in the exterior." He offered, going to take the planks.
Waiting for the beams to be placed he then put in each plank, making sure it was snug to the one next to it and of the same height. If the house looked like a fake, shoddily made thing, it wouldn't work as a trap; Sam knew the monsters could be smart, and he was sure they would be able to tell. Craftsmanship was important, so he spent his time making sure he pressed them all exactly into where they needed to be.
and I've only got my brittle bones to break the fall
Watching Wessex carry a support beam all by herself is a thing and a half all on its own. It is impressive, that's the least that can be said about it, and Aamu lets out a low whistle from where he's standing close to Mabel. "Damn, she's strong," he says in hushes tones. He's not surprised. Built like a fighter and favored by their God—what else could she be but in a league of her own?
Aamu shakes his head to himself and picks up the hammer and nails, wandering over to where Wessex is placing the first beam. "Show-off," he tells her with an approving smirk, taking the opportunity while her hands are full. It's not condescension: closest words for it would be statement or maybe even praise. Carefully Aamu begins to make sure the support beams are properly secured, following Wessex from corner to corner.
Come sit right here and sleep while I slip poison in your ear
With all the other tasks taken, and a muffled snort from Mabel to Aamu on the subject of Wessex’s strength (show off indeed; though perhaps if she had the same amount of strength she might’ve done the same flex), the youth proceeded to assist Samuel in laying out the exterior walls. Despite the small stature of the house, it would take some time, and her eyes glanced once or twice to survey the horizon, ensuring she and Aamu still had adequate hours.
But with support beams nailed, held in place, gathered and carried, they had laid out more than the bare bones of the structure – beginning to take shape, hastening its hold. There, from the center of the skeletal configuration, her eyes slunk from potential entryways. “We need two doors,” one for running in, one for running out. “Straight across from one another, as best we can. Bars on the outside.” She could imagine who would be taking the flight of feet across the floorboards, but she wouldn’t want to be the one scaling in a variety of directions to find the exit. “And then the rest of us can start on the roof.” Perhaps Wessex could employ her gathered ones in that direction too.
Once the vital components were completed, then they could unfurl their parameters about the interior.
--
- Two people needed to install/make doors
- Two to start on the slanted roof (ladders should be nearby for laying beams and such)
She answers Aamu’s statement with a wide grin and knowing cackle, absolutely agreeing with his assessment. No one obviously holds it against her, so when that task is done, she dusts off her hands and takes a small rest while Mabel directs the next moves.
It does seem like the NPC crew are perhaps more suited to laying the roof. They can create a supply chain from the wood pile to the rising building. “We can do the roof, if someone else wants to join me on the ladders.” Now - with this, she takes her time - once she actually gets up to the placing part. It’s important to her that they fit well, for two reasons: 1.) so that they don’t come prematurely crashing down, either on their own or from burning, and 2.) so that it seems like a real house. A real house wouldn’t let light or heat escape the roof, unless it’s through a chimney.
Fuck. “Hey, do you think we need a chimney in order to make this believable?” she asks the group, “Considering that a fake house has been tried before.“
Ugh. Second-guessing herself is the worst feeling.
