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!
my whole life is mine, but whoever says so will deprive me,
for it is infinite.
After a few days of training, Amun was starting to feel a little bit more like himself. Unfortunately, his body was still run down from his ordeal. Fluid could only restore him so far in the absence of the Voice. In lieu of that, he had to try and rebuild his strength the old fashioned way.
That's why he was back in the ring, literally: there was a sack full of sand hanging in front of him and he stood right at the edge of a boxing ring etched onto the ground. Anyone looking could tell he wasn't much of a boxer, as his stance was completely off. His feet were too wide, his knees were locked, and his shoulders were facing the target head on.
Given all that, it was no surprise that there was no force behind his punches. At least his thumb was correctly positioned so he didn't hurt himself. However, as his fist impacted the sack, it barely budged. He growled under his breath at the sight, drawing back his arm for another blow.
and all their words for glory, well they always sounded empty
The barracks were just another place Varus often spent milling about. Being the Captain had its duties and part of that was ensuring the place was ready for whatever came next. Today he’s had a bit of a slow start – half between spending the morning walking with Isla to the clinic and gathering the rest of a few things he needs for new targets to replace the older ones, the check ins with the blacksmiths on how the upgrades to the weaponry were coming along. He finds himself here, dropping off the rolls of fabric beside the lumbar he’d gathered not too long ago.
What he doesn’t expect is to see the makeshift boxing ring, a sandbag hoisted above, a punch that barely does anything to the bag. A dark brow rises curiously, metal hand rising to brush his long hair from his face as he steps up. “Hey.” He greets – not recognizing this person. “Might need to work yourself up to there. Get some strength training.” He suggests, pausing to cross one entirely metal arm with the other fleshy one across his chest. “I could help if you’re looking for it.”
my whole life is mine, but whoever says so will deprive me,
for it is infinite.
As the voice spoke up behind Amun, he put a steadying hand on the punching bag. It was more for him than the bag, which he'd barely been able to move. Glancing over his shoulder, he regarded the man who'd called out. The potter's eyes flicked to the stranger's arm before traveling up to the other man's face.
Letting out a bark of laughter, Amun nodded. Turning to face the other man, the potter tilted his head to one side. "You're probably right," he admitted. "What kind of help were you thinking?" Crossing his arms, he smiled. "Also, I'm Amun. Recently returned to these parts, don't think we've met yet."
and all their words for glory, well they always sounded empty
“Well, we can start with working on strength and core things so you can get the bag to move.” He suggests, eyeing the potter with a curious oceanic gaze. He steps forward, arms unfolding from his chest to greet Amun a bit more face to face. “Name’s Cal.” He offers with a nod of his head, flashing a toothy grin of greeting, revealing his fangs easily.
“I’ve just recently woken up from quite a long nap. So I suppose you could say I’ve recently returned too.” He offers with a soft laugh, stepping closer to view the bag of sand, reaching out with his metal hand to push at it, watching as it moves slightly. It’s a heavy bag, though. “We’ll need to start with smaller weights.” He hums thoughtfully, turning to focus on Amun.
my whole life is mine, but whoever says so will deprive me,
for it is infinite.
Glancing between Cal and the bag, Amun sighed. "Sounds thrilling," he deadpanned. However, he nodded his agreement to the plan.
Eying the other man's fangs, the potter flashed his own brief smile. "Well, then, Cal, I suppose I should welcome you back as well." As his fellow Ascended mentioned lighter weight, Amun glanced around at the room before focusing his gaze back on Cal. The potter rubbed the back of his head as he let out a bark of laughter. "Honestly, I was just trying to get to the point where I don't trip over my own feet and make a fool of myself in a scuffle."
and all their words for glory, well they always sounded empty
Varus can’t help the laugh that leaves him at the dry humor that slips from the other Ascended, rolling his shoulders in a shrug. However, the welcome back has Varus’ grin growing a bit wider. “Thank you.” He says quite politely, as if it doesn’t quite fit coming off of his tongue, but it’s simply playful in nature.
His metal hand drops from the bag to head into the small shed where he’s started stacking a few things, listening to the other Ascended offer his weaknesses so that he might be able to figure out a place to start. “Mm, fair enough. You want to just have a quick spar?” He asks, grabbing a few things for weights that he brings over and sets aside, drawing up to his full height, completely eye level with the other man. “Should give me an idea of where you’re faltering and what we can work on.”
my whole life is mine, but whoever says so will deprive me,
for it is infinite.
Arching an eyebrow at Cal's thanks, Amun nodded. Humming a low note, he tilted his head to one side. "What were you up to before your nap?" He watched as the other man started pulling out weights and equipment. Sighing, the potter rubbed the small of his back.
At the suggestion that they start with a light spar, he grinned. "That definitely works for me. Any ground rules I should be aware of? Biting, scratching, dipping pigtails in inkwells all off the table?" He waggled his eyebrows as he checked the ground under his feet to make sure it was free of debris, then made sure he was a short distance away from the other Ascended.
and all their words for glory, well they always sounded empty
“Oh nothing much.” Varus says with a crooked smirk, one that shows off one little fang as he walks over to pull the weights and equipment out. “Just getting my arm shredding to shit in the last Big War we had. Incredible timing, I know.” He says it almost as if he’s proud, despite being everything but. But if Amun does the math, it certainly pins Varus as centuries old.
He offers a spar, though, and his head tilts slightly as he regards Amun, looking him up and down for any weaknesses. “No biting, only because I’ve got something stored I need to keep for a while longer.” But other than that? He honestly doesn’t care. “Feel free to scratch and dip away.” He admits with a snort, standing still and rotating the metal arm until Amun is a fair distance away. “Upgrades included?” He asks, leaving it open for Amun to decide.
Regardless of the answer, he takes up a stance and waits for Amun to take the first shot.
my whole life is mine, but whoever says so will deprive me,
for it is infinite.
Amun raised his hand and wiggled his fingers as Varus recounted his sob story. "I had to get a replacement too, but not nearly as cool as yours," the potter informed the other man. Unsurprisingly, Amun didn't react at all to the other Ascended's age, since the potter was technically more than a few centuries old, if not older. Reincarnation was like that.
"I mean, you can have it back. I wouldn't mind." Waggling his eyebrows at Varus, the potter grinned. Shrugging at the mention of upgrades, he rolled his neck and cracked his knuckles. "If you've got them. Not all of us are so lucky. It's why I've gotta go after those pigtails." Eying Varus's arm, Amun shuffled a few steps closer. Facing the other man, the potter stood squarely. Without pivoting his body at all, he aimed a punch at his fellow Ascended's shoulder, the one not attached to an arm that did only the Voice knew what.
and all their words for glory, well they always sounded empty
“Oh?” Varus asks, humming a soft laugh. “The whole arm had to go. Luckily the Voice didn’t want to leave me empty handed.” He draws out the sounds like a joke, a glimmer in his oceanic gaze of amusement and humor before his professionalism comes to the surface. Honestly he doesn’t know what to think about sharing it back and forth, but so long as it ended back up with him he supposes that’s fine. When it comes to the two of them, though, Varus doesn’t entirely trust this stranger all that much, even if it seemed like he could probably pin the man down and take it back for himself.
So he rolls his shoulders in a shrug, an acceptance to the terms if that’s how dirty Amun wanted to go, before the spar is on. He does have his upgrades, and he does intend on using them – it’s not like the two of them feel any pain. So when he stills and watches as Amun comes closer and takes his shot, he rases a brow at the lack of movement, using the other tells to determine where he’s planning on landing the blow. It glances off his arm and he turns on his heel, aiming the metal fist back at Amun, aiming straight for the other man’s sternum without the full power of his arm behind it.
my whole life is mine, but whoever says so will deprive me,
for it is infinite.
Amun arched an eyebrow at Varus. "Wow. A joke. I didn't think most of my fellow Ascended were capable of joking." Winking, the potter grinned at the other man.
On the plus side, Amun's blow landed. Unfortunately, it did nothing to stop Varus from launching a counterattack. The potter's eyes widened as the other man's metal arm swept forward. Scrambling backwards, Amun was unable to avoid the strike. It slammed into his sternum just as Varus intended; even without the full strength of Varus behind the blow, it caused the potter to rock backwards on his heels.
Using that momentum, he tried to backpedal and put some space between them. At the same time, he kicked out. His target was the other man's knee, but Amun's kick wasn't focused and more intended to deter Varus for a few moments.
and all their words for glory, well they always sounded empty
Varus can’t help the laugh that leaves him, the slight roll of his eyes. “Well that’s where you’re wrong, pal.” It doesn’t have to all be doom and gloom, now does it?
He gets into position, gets glanced off of, and he sends his own fist back toward Amun, watching as his fist meets the potter’s sternum just as he intended. “Did you try to block it?” Varus asks, wondering where the disconnect was coming from, the Captain stepping back a fraction to give Amun a bit more space. There’s a kick that goes out, spreading wide through the air and missing Varus but only because he hasn’t pursued and instead chosen to give himself a bit more space as well.
He regroups, pausing to consider Amun, before he starts to take the offense – moving like he’s light on his feet despite the heavy metal arm, he works to distract Amun from what he’s really planning – aiming one fist for the potter’s shoulder and at the same time, letting the other one aim for his stomach.
my whole life is mine, but whoever says so will deprive me,
for it is infinite.
Amun arched an eyebrow at Varus. "Am I the problem? Or are our pessimistic pouty pals the problem?" A slow smirk spread across the potter's lips.
Snorting, he shook his head at the other man's question. "Does it look like I tried to block it?" Sighing, Amun shrugged, even as he kept an eye on his fellow Ascended. "Like I said I'm trying to get to the point where I don't make a fool of myself in a scuffle."
Then there was no time for more words as Varus came in for another blow. This time, the potter tried to slap away the blow headed for his shoulder. Unfortunately, it was a feint: the actual strike slammed into his stomach. Air that Amun didn't need left him in a whoosh. Staggering backwards a bit, he threw a wild uppercut towards the other man.
and all their words for glory, well they always sounded empty
Varus can’t help the huff of a laugh that leaves him, a roll of his eyes. But the fight begins and he’s throwing another punch, unable to keep himself from chastising Amun with the piss-poor block, hearing the sigh from the other man. “You’ve got to want to make yourself better, Amun.” His voice is clipped, in a sort of instructor tone as he follows through with another punch.
This one takes the wind out of the inorganic lungs within Amun and Varus is prepared to try and steady him – because it isn’t the goal to take the man off his feet, but it is the goal to keep him from making a fool of himself as he’d just said prior. It leaves him open, though, as Amun staggers back and the wild uppercut hits Varus right in the collarbone, a sound leaving him as his sensors spark with a surprising amount of anger. “Shit, alright. More’ve that.” He grits out, pushing in against Amun again, aiming to overwhelm him with another punch of his metal hand.
