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!
Juniper checked her bowstring as she waited for Deimos, her wings twitching nervously. She felt confident in her hunting prowess, usually, but a wicker woman was not a deer. The last time she'd gone after one, with Alina ... Well, they'd gotten away mostly unscathed. But all for naught: now they had to do it twice over again.
It should be all right, though, with Deimos's help. There was a quiet confidence to Halo's former general that reassured Juniper, making it odd to think that technically, she was much older than he was. Such were the nature of the long-lived Fae. But for all her years -- and they weren't many at all by Fae standards -- Juniper suspected that Deimos exceeded her in experience, not to mention raw physical strength. That experience and strength ought to prove quite useful today.
Juniper
"art nouveau winged fairy" by e³°°° is licensed with CC BY-SA 2.0. To view a copy of this license, visit here
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
At the very least, in between shelter rendering, preparations, plotting, and reassurances, there were other reparations to be made. While Deimos had none with Juniper, and had assisted the Fae, and the Greatwood at large with defenses and escorting (carrying) the Mathair home, he knew it’d be only a matter of time before another scorch mark would have to be taken care of. So he tread lightly in the columns of the Wildwood groves and timber, following after notes and inquiries, at the diplomat’s request, setting aside the hours and moments necessary for an altogether different kind of hunt.
Not without his companions – Zuriel for her sagacity, intelligence, and healing capabilities, Belial for his spying capabilities. Weaponry was polished for what he savored – blades on hilts, bow strung along his shoulder, quiver on his back. And then he was always an armament in the ways of incantations and shifts; proving to be an armory in his own right.
“Juniper,” he greeted with a nod of his head upon his approach, with his piercing gaze flickering over the boundaries. The peryton gave his own earnest zeal and announcement of arrival, while Zuriel quietly snorted – all of them ready. “Have you hunted one of these before?” For all his experience, he hadn’t, but he’d take the awe of ignorance and curiosity well in hand.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
"Deimos." Juniper nodded her head in returned greeting. "I have. Finding them is the hard part -- or, at least, finding them before they find you. The last time Alina and I looked for one, we didn't know it was there until it tried to grab Alina out of the air."
Smiling grimly, Juniper added, "They're not too dangerous in and of themselves -- they wont try to eat you or anything. But they never let go, and people usually get more and more tangled as they try to cut themselves free. Wicker woman victims usually die of thirst, starvation, or exposure rather than from the tree itself."
As she spoke, Juniper began to walk through the woods, watching their surroundings carefully for the gnarled branches of their target. This time, she didn't want to be caught unawares.
"This is the area that Alina and I searched last time, but I don't remember exactly where the wicker woman was."
Juniper
"art nouveau winged fairy" by e³°°° is licensed with CC BY-SA 2.0. To view a copy of this license, visit here
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
He nodded, listening as they walked, Belial embarking further ahead, a little Stygian outline against pale boughs, unsettled from their expanse with the pockets of snow. Zuriel tread lightly behind, and his senses coursed, pondering, wondering, head held high as he glanced over different timber, glancing briefly and scanning proportions of things and facets that might’ve been unfamiliar. His eyes narrowed only briefly while she described the Wicker Woman – this unpredictable menace of a tree apparently – wondering if he could just set it ablaze and call it good.
Much of it sounded circumstantial and only rendered on luck; which wasn’t his favorite tactic. “All right. What is your preferred method? Are there any distinct characteristics?” Other than just random chance – he didn’t particularly care for the nuance of dubious and capricious, especially if his companions could be rendered in danger. Were there any particular outlines to look for? Any more obvious bouts of movement or motion?
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
Juniper considered Deimos's questions carefully. She felt the responsibility of leading their little expedition weighing on her shoulders.
"One of the best signs of a wicker woman is the remains of the unlucky animals that have wandered across it, still held tight in the branches. If anything it's caught is still alive, we might hear it struggling." Grim, but helpful. Maybe they could free any surviving victims of the wicker woman -- but Juniper wasn't about to put herself or Deimos, or his companions, in danger to help a dying deer. On the other hand, she could shoot any trapped animals to at least put them out of their misery.
"When we find it ... Probably best if one of us hangs back while the other goes in and tries to cut a branch or two. That way, we won't both get stuck, and whoever remains free can get the other out." Juniper didn't assign those roles, however, hoping Deimos would volunteer for one of them. Privately, she thought he was probably better-equipped to get up close and personal with the wicker woman than she was, but she didn't want to order him into the more dangerous position.
After speaking, Juniper went quiet except for the fluttering of her wings, flying slowly along above the forest floor, listening for any struggling animals as she watched for signs of a wicker woman. She thought she heard something in the distance, off to their left.
Juniper
"art nouveau winged fairy" by e³°°° is licensed with CC BY-SA 2.0. To view a copy of this license, visit here
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
Weighing out the options, Deimos arched a brow – not liking any of them. “I have all the elemental magics. Once we find it, I can likely use Earth, and we would not have to get close at all.” Thus saving them from potential disaster and ruin; and he had no inclination of allowing either Zuriel or Belial to be maimed in attempts to help Juniper. Perhaps the bough could be cut away with a little fire, a little air, a little frozen bombardments; he wouldn’t know until he tried.
He stilled completely at the noise though, silently ordering both unicorn and peryton to not move from their designated spot. Eyes narrowing, speculations running rampant, the calculations stirred again. “Let me try something before we go any further.” His head tilted to the left, hound ears shifting to the top of his skull as he strived for better hearing proportions, before instigating his Air properties. Snagging at some leaf litter, a branch, and various other segments buried beneath the snow, he lifted them, and began to have them loiter aloft, near the particular grove, wondering if they’d be snagged, found worthy. That way they could pinpoint the exact location without much issue.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
"That would be a considerably better option," Juniper agreed. She'd made her initial plan without knowing the full extent of Deimos's abilities, but she would much rather use them than risk getting up close and personal with a wicker woman. So she'd let him take the lead as they continued.
Juniper stilled as Deimos spoke, and watched his efforts with silent approval. The leaf litter was ignored, but as the branch moved towards the source of the sound, a thin tendril curled out from a particularly gnarled tree and began to wrap gently around it.
"That's it," Juniper whispered, as if the wicker woman could hear her.
Juniper
"art nouveau winged fairy" by e³°°° is licensed with CC BY-SA 2.0. To view a copy of this license, visit here
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
Far and away, at a safe distance, he watched as the tendril began to snake out. A tempting snare, a lofting threat, and he snorted, somewhat bemused that portion of the plan had worked. It’d been a lure of their own creation, and he intended to continue to connive and deceive while they had the opportunity. The leaf litter dragged along, much like a wounded animal, invited by the ability of his magic, and the potential for the Wicker Woman to want to come out further, be snagged, be inveigled, be enticed, to at least partake in an attack.
He lowered his voice to a whisper, a murmur too, uncertain if the tree was far more powerful than it would let on. “If I can get a portion out far enough, I can cut it.” Probably with his water magic turned into ice shards, slicing and piercing when sharpened into honing, precise blades. He arched his brow in Juniper’s direction, waiting for approval.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
Juniper nodded. It should be simple enough to lure one of the wicker woman's tendrils to extend far enough for Deimos to cut it, and she hopes they can do so without too much danger to themselves.
As she considers their next move, the thrashing among the wicker woman's branches -- the sound that drew them here -- slows and stops. Juniper recognizes now what it is: "There's an animal caught in there -- deer-sized, I think. I can't get a clear look at it, but we should see if we can kill it before we leave, rather than leaving it to starve."
She has thoughts about how to complete their actual task at hand, too. "I'll get a little closer to the wicker woman and draw out one of its vines. Then you can cut it."
Perhaps Juniper has put herself in the riskier position, but she doesn't want to ask Deimos -- or his companions -- to do both jobs, cutting and luring. And besides, she doesn't actually intend to let the wicker woman touch her. She picks up a long branch from the ground and gets closer, reaching out with the branch and waving its end near the wicker woman in the hopes of getting a vine to curl around it -- and one does, snapping down faster than Juniper anticipated and wrapping around both the stick and her arm.
Juniper
"art nouveau winged fairy" by e³°°° is licensed with CC BY-SA 2.0. To view a copy of this license, visit here
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
His brows furrowed at the notion of a creature trapped within the Wicker Woman’s hold as well, compelled, as he so often was, by the plight of another. “Can we not free the animal too?” Given the opportunity and range of his magic, he should be able to apply the incantations decently enough to give the fauna a fighting chance – but perhaps Juniper was more concerned their current circumstances.
And maybe rightfully so, given the perplexity of what began to take place. He withheld a sigh, not truly wanting the Fae to get any closer, hiding the frustration of the notions behind a clenched jaw and a concentrating mind. He watched and waited, the silent, predacious observer, biding his opportunity, when the tendril began to snake around Juniper and her stick.
So action took quick precedence, and as he stepped forward, his enchantments moved with ease, with swiftness, with precision. Icy wares were galvanized in succession, altering from watery droplets to sharpened, menacing shards, intending to slash and cut, rip and tear, the proportions extended. With any luck and strength, it’d allow Juniper her freedom too.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
"We can try," Juniper answers, a little doubtfully. Cutting one off one lured tendril was one thing; extricating a creature already thoroughly ensnared was another. Add that to the terrified animal's thrashing ...
Deimos's magic makes short work of the tendril, slicing it off, and Juniper quickly retreats with the severed vine still wrapped around her arm. Unwrapping it from a safe distance, she offers Deimos a somewhat sheepish smile. "Thank you. I'll be more careful."
She stores the wicker woman's vine in her pack, pleased to have at least one of Safrin's requirements resolved. Then she turns back to the wicker woman. "Let me see if I can get a better look at what's in there."
Carefully staying out of the vines' reach, Juniper takes to the air and circles around the wicker woman until she finds the trapped animal. When she does, she pauses, hovering, her voice sad: "Oh, it's a bobcat."
The species makes her want to free the animal more than kill it; Juniper has shot plenty of deer, but she has a certain sympathy for the bobcat, as a fellow hunter.
Juniper
"art nouveau winged fairy" by e³°°° is licensed with CC BY-SA 2.0. To view a copy of this license, visit here
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
With Zuriel and Belial safely out of range, and then Juniper extricated from the wicker woman’s clutches, Deimos released the sigh, the apprehension, threatening to buoy its way out of his throat. He proceeded cautiously, intending to remain well out of the scope of the tree’s limbs, but close enough to ascertain the Fae’s findings. The man nodded, gazing at the vine. “Do you have enough for your task?” Careful, speculating, and calculating as always, the Sword narrowed his eyes, watching as wings flickered, fluttered, and then she hovered along in a strange bout of sudden sorrow.
He tilted his head at the notions, and then stole another long breath. “Let me see what I can do.” A predator in his own right, he understood the implications behind the matter. Perhaps the feline had been wandering around, hoping for an opportunity to find and capture its own prey – and had been snagged and snared in the process.
Once more, he unfurled the layers of his Earth enchantments, intending to bend, pull, twist, and maneuver branches and vines out of the way, to secure freedom for one more wild creature living amongst the forest.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
Juniper nods; she's ended up with even more of the wicker woman than she'd expected. "This should do nicely. Thank you."
Now for their second order of business: freeing the bobcat. Juniper watches the creature lie in the wicker woman's grip, clearly exhausted. When Deimos uses his magic, the earth twists around the vines, pulling them away from the bobcat, creating enough space for the animal to get loose. The cat lifts its head, but when it tries to get to its feet, it staggers, running into more vines, which eagerly coil around it before it can continue.
"It's too weak to walk out," Juniper reports, her heart sinking. "One of us will have to go grab it. I can try, if you think that's wise."
Juniper didn't want to risk her life for the bobcat, exactly, but she had faith in Deimos's ability to get her out if the vines started to pull her in. Or maybe it would be best to cut their losses and end the cat's life.
Juniper
"art nouveau winged fairy" by e³°°° is licensed with CC BY-SA 2.0. To view a copy of this license, visit here
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
A low rumble of frustration echoed in his nuances as the cat found itself incapable of escaping, truly evading the vines. No matter how much he scraped and tore away at the tree, it wouldn’t matter if the predator couldn’t leave on its own – and truthfully, he wasn’t too keen on the idea of Juniper getting snagged and caught again either. A part of him was sorely tempted to set the whole god damned thing on fire, but that would be reaching into far more juvenile tendencies than he’d like to admit.
“We can try that,” he nodded, jaw clenching, brows furrowing in a manner of obvious distaste. “If it does not work,” for he had no intention of risking the Fae any more than she was willing, “I could attempt to lift it out with my Air magic.” It was the dual lined edges, but perhaps Juniper would be quick enough, fierce enough, and they wouldn’t have to worry. “If the cat fights you, do not risk yourself.” And he sent a calming, balming disposition towards the animal, in hopes that some Attuned nature would keep it from scrambling and lashing with claws out of fear or desperation.
Thereafter, he started again with the Earthen wares, orchestrating tactics of pulling branches back, of fending them away from the feral beast.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
