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!
the fire can't touch me for I have burned too many times
Calloused fingers rested along the pommel and hilt of his blade, nodding in understanding of both statements. “I try to find something I can learn from each fighter.” How to utilize faster, swifter movements, for it would always be a downfall with his height and mass, how to coordinate trickier evasions and dodges, breaking away from all his formal training, incorporating what he knew from muscle memory within necessary moments. Even those relatively new and inexperienced had things to share as they were instructed, as they were honed; different angles, different approaches, different nuances and complexities he might have never experienced. “And magic is always tempting,” and within the notion he smiled – just as resolved to sometimes wading instantly into the multitudes of incantations at his disposal. Especially in longer-ranged instances, where he yearned to keep himself and any other brethren away from danger for as long as possible.
He rotated the weapon in his hand for a moment, before nodding at her assent. He’d try an alternative track this time; launching for her shoulder once more, on a quick, keen notion, but intentionally stopping short, the serrated edges not touching either armor, flesh, or bone. “Think about what you can do to repel, and then how you can attack efficiently.” There were many options – upwards, over the top of his sword, heading for his own shoulders, clavicle, neck, or beyond, downwards, pinioning for his chest or abdomen – or even ricocheting over the weapon in his grasp.
the sea can't harm me for I have been drowning all my life
And I'm not expecting you to care, but I have finally seen the light
It was true and in a lot of cases, it was probably for the better that Morgan use her magic and not hammer; water could often be gentler than the hard metal and had more coverage. Still, keeping ones body active and busy learning new things was good on it's own regardless and she knew how fleeting things like magic abilities could be.
So he came forward again, aiming for her shoulder; Morgan reflexively readied herself by setting her feet apart and solid and lifting her hammer, but listened to his instruction before doing anything further. Once he'd spoken she nodded and moved to go upwards, catching his sword with the hammer handle and hopefully twisting it ahead, using the sword as a pivot to bring the head of the hammer towards Deimos.
the fire can't touch me for I have burned too many times
He watched; the game different now. Here he wasn’t intending to match blow for blow, and permitted, allowed, the scope of the instruction to alter and change. For his blade to be maneuvered and moved as she applied other properties and techniques, half a smile indulged in the corner of his mouth as the hammer caught, twisted, angling his weapon off – his eyes facing the hammer. “Good,” he uttered, then stepped back.
“Try another,” insisting she not go for the same thing twice, that she strive and try for an alternative, to attempt other circumstances. One never knew when and where the opportunities would come to pass, come apart, unravel and unfurl at the seams.
This time, he aimed his blade on a differing scale, coming in towards her right side, inclining and intending for ribs – stopping once more short of the armor.
the sea can't harm me for I have been drowning all my life
And I'm not expecting you to care, but I have finally seen the light
Her movement worked, gaining Deimos' approval. While Morgan didn't feel she needed it, it was still encouraging to hear she was doing better at his techniques after a little instruction. Taking her hammer back down to her side, she took a step back, waiting for him to ready himself again for her next approach. Something else, something new. There was a challenge in that that she found she enjoyed.
Deimos came in with an attack for her right side; seeing this she considered for a brief second - years of battles had taught her how to weigh up her options in the blink of an eye - then she again used her hammer, but more as a block this time, holding it down to stop the path of his sword while she turned inwards towards him, her elbow out to dig into his face; of course, she did not actually touch, but if she had, the metal plates of her armour would have at least been able to break a nose with the right force.
the fire can't touch me for I have burned too many times
These aspects were familiar and comfortable; days and seasons and years of the formidable nature rising up, taking prowess and prestige. Moments of clarity, of old lives varnished and lacquered, beat into the back of his mind, and he often wondered if he could infiltrate these wakes for an eternity – swing a blade, muster instruction, ensure the rest of the world could tackle their own demons. Then there were following instances where he knew he couldn’t – that lives didn’t so often play in the games they favored.
Best to savor the now.
Her armor and elbow came to hover near his nose on a triumphant angle, and he laughed. Not a loud, exuberant burst, but something beyond the usual, quiet muffling, shaking his head in the amusement. A nod infiltrated once more as he stepped away, out of the potential broken limbs compartment. “Potent,” he chuckled out the compliment, before tilting his cranium, pondering other aspects and ideals. “What about a downward strike?” And from there, he swung forward, intending for her abdomen – so that she might find a threshold to block the blade, and slide over the top of the armament.
the sea can't harm me for I have been drowning all my life
And I'm not expecting you to care, but I have finally seen the light
Morgan pulled away and put her arm back down, smiling as she heard Deimos laugh; a refreshing sound, one that she wasn't that used to. Stepping back, her hammer swung down to her feet for a moment of rest, she was struck by the thought that it was nice to have friends. They hadn't always been a part of her life.
But anyway, the training. Taking his suggestion, she raised her weapon then brought it down, catching his sword and pushing it away while at the same time bringing the head of the hammer towards his shoulders. Again, she only let it tap him, the practice being more about the movement and action than the force. "I think I understand what you meant." Morgan said, gently lifting the hammer off.
the fire can't touch me for I have burned too many times
Friends had been a relatively foreign concept after he kept losing them to battles. It had been far, far easier to retreat back into nonchalance, into shells, into voids, into becoming a vessel for bloodshed, ruin, abominations, and the simple outlines of vengeance. The Reaper; a king on top of his mountains, looking down, down, down and sending his enemies off the peaks.
But here, without them, he wouldn’t have survived.
He didn’t take her moment of rest for anything but that – waiting in the interim, blade at the ready for whatever she sought to apply. The hammer swiftly caught the armament and hastened it downward, and soon enough, she’d rendered the tactics viable, and the edge of the blunt instrument tapped against his armor. At her tones, he presumed the multitudes somewhat finished. “You practiced them well. Was there anything else?” He’d be capable for going on for longer, enduring and formidable, but if Morgan had other means to attend to, especially within the role of Warden once more, he wouldn’t keep her.
Though, on the subject and note of comrades –
His eyes shifted briefly to the other soldiers, some still working on clambering on top of the makeshift hill, or clattering around, swords edged and lined, striving to prove themselves. Thereafter, his gaze turned back to Morgan, head tilted in contemplation. “A group of us are going to the Kraai later.” Considering he’d been told he needed to relax and rest; being amidst his fellow Shields and forgoing their suffering for another day sounded like the start of some repose. “You are welcome to join us.”
the sea can't harm me for I have been drowning all my life
And I'm not expecting you to care, but I have finally seen the light
"Oh, there could be infinite things when it came to discussion of battle technique - I'm sure I could teach you some things as well." Morgan said with a smile and a glint in her eye; she had, after all, picked up plenty of tricks in her time as Guard Captain, often desperate and needing to think quick on her feet. But Deimos was correct in his assumptions; she didn't really have the time to devote to the study of battle right now, amongst everything else. "But I'm afraid there's a million things I must attend to."
Greenhouses, Gods and Ascended, oh my!
However, his offer did catch her attention, because she knew he was extending a kindness; the bosses, those higher up, often could end up isolated and distant from her soldiers. Gladly, she nodded. "I'd love to. I will head there once my work is done - Thank you, Deimos. For the lesson and everything else."
