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!
"Come along, one and all! Sample from the merchant's stall!"
It's the middle of the night and the streets are full of music - but then again, what better time for a night market? It simply appears as the sun sets one day, packing a side street in Haulani and pouring from there to the main drag, down the banks of the canals until like a sprawling sort of mold it's taken hold of the city in full
Oh, but no, don't look like that - it's delightful, really. There's treats and games for the kiddos, treasures and vices for the adults, rides and music and spirits and entertainment. Where did it come from? Don't worry about that. You're not here to ask silly questions.
You're here to have fun.
"Secrets! Mysteries! Treasures and more! What does The Table have in store?"
And then there is The Table. Maybe it's the first thing you see, maybe the last. Maybe you've been circling it like a vulture this whole time, or maybe it's only as the sheet is lifted that it finally catches your eye. But you've come to it now and there's no escape- er, reason to leave. Not until you find out what The Table has to offer. A long table (as the name would suggest) set alongside the canal, it is currently covered by a blood-red sheet. There are indistinct lumps beneath the fabric, and though you have no idea what they are, they call to you. You can't leave until you find out more, it's just impossible.
So, will you listen to the call of the Table? Or enjoy everything else the market has to offer, and avoid the reward risk?
Welcome to the first ever Torchline Night Market! At this mini-event your character will have the chance to get special, unique items of variable quality. You have 72 hours to post your character arriving at The Table, after which the event will begin, with each round lasting 48 hours.
Approach The Table if you dare - the rewards are great, but the risks are, too!
There were certain things that you got used to while living in Torchline. Random tables and markets were one of them. One hour an alley could be empty and the next it could be teeming with people selling their wares. It just happened. So to have one pop up at night wasn't exactly odd. What was odd was the way it was hard to ignore it. Maeve doesn't even feel her feet carrying her into the already bustling crowds until she's suddenly there. Her brows draw together and there is a moment of confusion as she comes to. Strange. Ah well, she was planning to do some shopping anyway.
Before her is a table covered with a sheet and instinctively her hand raises as if to touch one of the lumps, but she stops herself short. Instead her eyes shift around nervously in search of the merchant who is surely managing The Table.
With her sweetened breath, and her tongue so mean She's the angel of small death and the codeine scene
Secrets, mysteries, treasures and more -- such things Theo had promised others many times, and he liked to think that he was beyond such games, smart enough to see through such facades. He told himself that he was approaching the Table as a fellow practitioner of the art of the steal, of the grift and the con, not as a potential mark. With an easy smile on his face and his hands never quite in view -- dipping in and out of the pockets of his fellow patrons -- he hung back a bit, coming just close enough to make it clear that his approach to the Table was no accident, but letting others make the first move.
Secrets, mysteries, treasures -- as much as he might want to deny it, Theo couldn't resist such things either.
Theo
"Poker" by ND Strupler is licensed with CC BY 2.0.
He loves this kind of shit. The crowds are great for snatching up things and sometimes the vendors even have something interesting. There's a large crowd and it's enough to draw him towards it until his eyes catch sight of the table. Well that's an interesting way to advertise your wares.. Hiding them and all. His eyes flit around the table, looking for the vendor before landing on Maeve. Oh. Hmm. It's only the second time he's seen her since their little.. whatever the fuck that was. He makes a point of moving to the other side of the table. If she notices him, he doesn't know but he wants to keep his distance.
His attention turns back to the table and he finds himself trying to decipher what's happening under the red covering. What exactly could those lumps be?
she tied you to her kitchen chair she broke your throne and she cut your hair
With the prospect of living *forever* (though some part of her seriously doubts that will happen) ahead of her, there’s a certain kind of delight in the unexpected. The lights of the Night Market reflect brightly in Wessex’s eyes as she wanders through the stalls, occasionally stopping at one that draws her interest, but seriously thinking about buying little Music rings behind her, infectious and and sultry and alive.
Her spirits can’t help but be buoyed.
Even when she steps in something rotten. A quick brush of her boot against a cart’s wheel gets that mess off quickly and the Wraith is wandering on - until she hears a hawker call out something that piques her interest. Secrets? Mysteries?
Yes, please. Wessex draws her hood up about her face and approaches the Table, letting the spirit of the Night Market take her where it wills.
It's Jack's kinda deal, honestly, and as the crew from the Ark all stream out to see what's what, the captain isn't far behind. He and Aurelia would arrive just as the excitement is all starting, it seems, and Jack has already gotten himself a bottle of whatever, because honestly who even really gives a fuck when you can't taste anything.
"Huh." His appraisal of tHe TaBLe is just that, really, and he raises an eyebrow across to his companion as if to ask her what she thinks of the crimson cloth and its surprises hidden underneath. "This shit's normally full of fake trash and cursed knick knacks," he remarks.
you wanted perfect, you got your perfect but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!
Jack being an Abandoned is common knowledge these days, however his Telepathy remains a well-kept secret:
Magic: Passive Telepathy | The user can read the surface thoughts and emotions of those within a 30ft radius. Control is excellent. Note: "Thoughts and emotions" include anything written in a character's narration in a post.
Type: Grey | Rank: Mastered
Also branded with a small star tattoo beneath his left eye.
may we dance until it rains, may we drink to hide our shame. we're all pretty when we die
Gods he’s sore. His muscles bark and groan when he and Nate finally call it a night. It couldn’t have come sooner, though, the thought of simply walking home draped as a cobra around Nate’s neck an opportunity that he keeps in mind when he finally pulls himself up off the couch of the Slagveld. Somewhere in between a playful jest of ‘carry me’ before he actually enacts his idea, shifting into that black and bronze cobra and winding himself around Nate’s neck and shoulders, head tucked along his husband‘s neck to peer out from under wild curls.
This way he won’t have to move, and that’s truly the goal at the end of the day.
They slip out from the Slagveld to find a throng of people, voices calling out and food and snacks abound, surprise overtaking him for how late it was and whatever this was. When did this get here? He sends to Nate, tucking in a bit closer and poking his forked tongue out at it, his curiosity getting the best of him for the table in the middle of it all, hidden away by cloth. What do you suppose are under the cloth? He tacks on at the end with a mischievousness sent over toward his husband.
SUNJATA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
and my hands aren't clean maybe they never will be
Aurelia follows closely beside Jack, arms crossed, a single brow arched, as the rest of the crew scatter in their excitement. She's skeptical and there's nothing she'd need anyway. Except maybe some booze, but looks like Jack took care of that already. Pointedly, she eyes his bottle.
The merchant shouting about 'the Table' catches her attention. The word 'treasure' does flip a switch in her mind and now her curiosity is piqued. It could be fun to participate... see if she can win something. Maybe Jack would have some luck.
She eyes him to gauge his reaction and, much to her surprise, he's doing the same to her. Shrugging, she says, "All the more to add to your collection. C'mon," she nudges him with her elbow, "who doesn't like a little mystery?"
but they can still carry you home when you're ready to sleep
Ray was just preparing for her trek into the Wilds when word of the market reached her. It sounded like both a fun send off and a good means of getting some new information. Surely with the variety of merchants present, night merchants specifically, secrets and rumors would be abound. And so Ray set out, her feet heading towards the market. When it came into view, a grin stretched across her face. The variety of tables and goods was astounding. Many of which would never be visible in the day time. As she was walking down the street, one in particular caught her eye. Humming she tuned and paused in front of the merchant. "What do we have here?" She asked curiously, gesturing at the items.
r a y
The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.
—Albert Camus
You win a lot, but you lose just a little bit more than you gained in the end
After a day spent winning unfortunately one sided fights, carrying his husband home is the least Nate can do, and it’s a task that he steps to with relish. While he would have been more than happy to simply scoop Sunjata into his arms, the snake is a far more convenient shape. One of his hands lingers up near his shoulder, fingers stroking a slow line along smooth scales when his quiet focus is broken by a ruckus.
Immediately, the scene reminds him of a street fair, filled with more people than he necessarily wants to mingle with, but his curiosity has been piqued. A sharp, stony face is enough to deter most second glances. I got here the same time you did, sonskyn. A soft rumble of amusement echoes through his chest, sounding like a low growl to anyone else close enough to hear it.
It has to be something good. Nate muses about the table, slipping closer to satisfy both their curiosities. Or maybe something so shit they can’t let people look too long.
Things were better. Things were brighter. Things were looking up.
So it was no wonder that the sound of music echoing across the Haulani drew the pair (youth and pumpkin) forth, a moth to a flame again and again. There were crowds and rackets, light and song, and she was all the more compelled, in her mischief, in her wonder, in her awe, to glean at the newest addition too.
Something the likes she’d never seen – and she tried to peek around various people in the crowd, jostling between elbows and open avenues, until she’d managed to pick and careen her way along the throng and mass of other inquiring onlookers. With Fangorn in her arms, Melita poked her head into the fray, pondering what was happening, what was occurring, and the purpose of the table – and the crimson sheet.
Like blood. Like fire. Like wine. Like a siren-call.
And amidst and amongst her brethren, she stayed to see, to watch, to marvel.
03-14-2021, 12:58 PM (This post was last modified: 03-14-2021, 12:59 PM by Rigby.)
RIGBY
and this is why i have decided to leave your house and home unhaunted
Somebody is late to the party, but he's there all the same. Drawing from the shadows, or perhaps the sewers, comes a tall scrawny figure, dark in expression as he is in dress. Rigby was drawn to the market just like everyone else, unfamiliar with this kind of carnival-esque show. This was not one of the normal night markets, abound with smuggled goods and shitty knickknacks. This was bright, cheery, and just a tad ominous.
He shifted through the crowds, a ghost in the streets, brown eyes following the lights. Whether that be the twinkling of vibrant lanterns, or the reflections off of shiny trinkets, he was scanning it all, seeking something to take. The crowd that gathered around The Table was avoided at first, but as a barker announced it's allure he shifted course and began to make his way in. Familiar faces, too many for comfort, he stayed on the edges, hoping to sate his curiosity without needless interaction.
how do you wanna face it? when the end is so close you can taste it
Raz’ can’t shay she remembers anythin’ like this happenin’ before. Or maybe it has, an’ all the childhood market mysteries seem t’blend together in a haze’a stalls an’ dust’ an’ the smell’a cookin’, spiced meat. The Hanged Man closed early for this an’ its proprietress wanders about with a flask’a something dark an’ top shelf an a couple’a skewers’a somethin’ that smells heavenly.
The occasional drop’a meat juice ends up on her sandals as she wanders an’ eats - not really interested in buyin’ anything’ at the moment - not until she feels the irresistible urge t’turn a corner - an’ runs into a small crowd an’ an eager, charismatic hawker. Lickin’ her fingers clean’a grease, Raza sidles up t’ Jack an’ Aurelia.
“Anythin’ good?” she asks, raisin’ a skeptical brow towards the stall.
Well well well, what a fine turn-out we have here! So many willing marks customers, eager to find whatever wares The Table has to offer. Brave souls, bold souls, stupid souls - it matters not. A soul's a soul and a prize is a prize, and there's trading to be done.
"Welcome welcome one and all, to The Table of Extraordinary Wares!" Is the voice coming from inside your head? Or outside? Or the table itself? Hard to say. But if you pay attention you'll realize the outside sounds and people have faded away, leaving only the twelve of you standing around the red-washed Table, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
There's a slick sound of silk and the red sheet falls away, vanishing under the table and revealing what it had to hide. Nine packaged items of different size and shape and color and texture, each one alluring in its own strange way. "What The Table has to offer only the bold can tell! Choose the treasure that appeals best - but make sure you choose well."
The prizes are wrapped as follows:
Shiny blue bag
Humming red box
Purple wrapped box
Faintly rotted green leaves
Yellow cotton bag
Starry silk pouch
Glowing white crate
Orange beach towel
Warm paper bag
"Stand beside your ware of choice, but do not take them yet. The Table has yet to decide if what you want, you get."
Round one! Choose the package that most appeals to your character. There's no right wrong answer, and no limit as to how many people can choose each package. Please say what package your character choose, as well as any other pertinent actions, in the footer of your post.
