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!
04-02-2022, 10:26 PM (This post was last modified: 04-02-2022, 10:27 PM by Talyson.)
Maybe Tal was cut out for monster hunting.
Maybe he wasn't.
There was only one way to find out, though, and he'd followed Deimos like a duckling to help scout out some troubling occurrences in Hak Etme.
It was his first time in the desert, but he was relieved that it wasn't as bad as the Climb. Boreal sulked in the pale blue sky overhead, a constant grumble in the back of the courier's mind as she complained about the heat, and Tal tried not to echo her out loud as he slogged across the sand with his pack over his shoulders and sweat running down his back and chest, soaking his long-sleeved shirt.
At least the landscape made for an excellent distraction. The bones near the shrine were strange and fascinating, and Tal paused to peer into a skull's eye socket that was bigger than his head--
And jumped back with a yelp when a fuzzy spider larger than his hand hopped onto the socket's edge to glare at him and wave its chelicerae threateningly.
A trial by fire, or so they said. At the very least, by desert.
Tal’s interest and intrigue in the guild warranted some manner of maneuvering towards the sands, even if Deimos hadn’t thought he’d been in this wake again for a little while. He’d wanted to check over the location anyway, ensuring no one had been harmed in the wake of the starlit well and the thirsty seasonal deity. Might as well see if the courier had what it took.
Belial followed this time, Zuriel content to stay home and not wage her way through the hellhole. It was another rapid change from the frigid air of the mountains, and he instantly missed the ferocity of the wind once more the moment he encountered the arid climate again. Rolling up his sleeves as far as they would go over muscles, he pinned his air up in a makeshift, messy bun, and persisted through the void with a wrinkled nose.
He wouldn’t do as much complaining with Tal here – not like he’d lamented and whined with Ru. Instead, he had to keep a watchful eye on things, and ensure the youth didn’t end up dead for any modicum of reasons.
The peryton was here to help too, apparently, as Tal yelped and he flew over to “assist”, staring down the spider in regular aplomb from its socket reaches, and then reaching forward with fangs to snag it whole.
The sigh the Sword gave might’ve been heard miles away at the action, but he gritted his teeth and bore down on the impending lecture. “Land sharks can detect sound and movement fairly easily,” by way of mentioning in a lower register of voice – glancing at the way the other had yielded and screeched.
Tal breathed a sigh of relief as the peryton appeared to solve his little spider problem, and he flashed him a grin. "Thanks, Belial." He started to back away from the skull, but Deimos's quiet warning made him freeze, shoulders tensing at the reminder. He wrinkled his nose, annoyed at himself, and gave a reluctant bob of his head.
"Yeah... sorry," came the muttered apology, cheeks burning red from more than just sun exposure. He had to show Deimos that he had what it took, and Tal scowled at the skull before he turned away and walked with care back towards the path the General was leading them on.
He opened his mouth to ask another question, but snapped his jaw shut as the recent warning echoed sternly on his ears, and he reached up to stubbornly adjust the straps on his pack instead. High above, Boreal chortled her amusement at his chastisement, momentarily knocked out of her annoyance with the hot, dry weather.
Belial gave a very fanged smile, crunching down on exoskeleton with an audible and disturbing quality, before taking flight for a moment. There was some arcane, irritating, annoying notion to go bother the dragon – but with other things to attend to, and possible hunting, he opted to stay and hover around the skulls. In fact, he found quite a large skeleton to perch himself on, content to wag his tail and then become eerily still, rendered invisible within the blink of an eye.
Resigned habitually to stretches of immobility and silence, Deimos remained on the sand as if he were never there. Tall, broad, and monolithic he might’ve been, but he’d learned very quickly how to secure himself in dunes from childhood.
Sharp, piercing eyes watched and waited; and given the circumstances of their recent arrival, it didn’t take long for the curious approach of the beasts. He angled his jaw towards slight movement yards away, a darting and blustering motion that had begun to ripple and undulate in an unpredictable pattern. “Do you see that?” He whispered, since the courier lacked the ability to communicate via the Attuned measures – he’d just have to weigh out the consequences when they came. The first step was ensuring Tal could pinpoint an incoming threat.
Boreal played lookout high above, though she lost sight of the peryton once he stopped moving. Her eyes roamed further afield as she sought out the approach of man or beast that might interrupt the hunt-lesson going on below.
Sand wasn't snow, but the ground held a certain reminiscent treachery of uncertain footing and Tal moved across it with reasonable balance for someone so unused to the way it could slide and sink away underfoot; hard-packed and firm for one step, and unsettlingly yielding with the next. The courier spent more time alone than with other people, more used to talking to dogs and his dragon than anyone else, and silence fell comfortably around him now - so long as no more large spiders made their presence known.
Sand wasn't snow, but Tal had already discerned that they were both alike insofar as, absent a breeze, it didn't move on its own. The General's whisper brought his head up from where he was picking his path, and he squinted out to the near distance, frowning slightly. Fingers dipped into his pocket, bringing out the smoked glass goggles he used to cut snowglare with on the Tundra, and he slid them over his head with smooth economy.
Pale eyes found the disturbance in the ground, not unlike a water elemental's burgeoning mischief on the ice, and Tal gave a short nod of affirmation as his hand came to rest on one of the smaller axes on his belt; one balanced for throwing rather than chopping. He glanced over to Deimos for guidance on what would come next, survival instincts honed on the Tundra telling him that charging in swinging would be really fucking dumb.
Luckily for Tal, Deimos’ preparation for technique and prowess lent the way for ample learning opportunities.
He watched once more – noting the keen movements, the undulations in the sand, before plotting his own ventures – opening the ground. Earthen incantations roamed in controlled ease and abandon, parting the sand like he might’ve contorted the sea, and lo and behold, there was the creature. Fin manifesting, and then the rest of its form, it stopped for a moment, likely stunned by its cover being exposed, before he implemented more precision.
By lifting it straight out of the loam and silt and dunes, and into the air.
It wriggled and slashed at nothing in particular – snapping at the warm breeze circumventing through, and the Sword arched a brow at the courier. With it captured and at a safe distance, he rounded another form of lecture. “All right. What do you notice?” The softer, more vulnerable underbelly? The sharp movements and motions? The capability of its teeth?
Wide-eyed and tongue-tied, Tal watched the casual display of magical ability with a yearning that almost ached in his chest. He shivered as the shark floated up into the air, captured and harmless at a distance, and the courier swallowed hard at the thought of what he might do with such power.
The moment passed, as it always did, with a silent sigh and a single shake of his head to dispel the childhood dreams back from whence they'd come. The General's question was clearly a test, and it was one that Tal meant to pass. He narrowed his eyes at the shark - unfamiliar beast, outside of tales and picture-book drawings - studying it for a few slow breaths.
"Smaller than I was thinkin,'" he admitted. "Except for the teeth. Those are more'n big enough. It's a fast fucker, too. Don't like the speed of that snap. The eyes are pretty small... tough targets from a distance. What are the weak spots on it?" He didn't take his gaze away from the shark this time, trying to discern the anatomy that Deimos might explain to him.
He listened – ever a scrutinizing force. Mainly to see if the youth had any caliber of wit or mind about him when it came to creatures – especially those foreign. It was all well and good to know exactly how to trek and traverse when it came to Halo’s, until one had to venture elsewhere. Skills, knowledge, wisdom, and sagacity were eternal gifts – and no one could take that away from them.
Watching the shark snap at the air, wiggling around and trying to find its tail, or sneer in both of their directions, Deimos snorted. “They come in a variety of sizes. This one is probably young.” Foolish and naïve enough to go gallivanting towards them at the first sign of movement and sound, unaware of what it had run up against.
Turning and twisting it over so the stomach was plainly exposed (and it writhed around again in complaint, but could do naught more than glean obvious irritation), the lecture persisted. “The underbelly, most likely,” something difficult to get to, if the predators were always in the sand. “Though I have utilized a sword on their jaws before,” maneuvering it back around so that the width of its expanded efforts were showcased. “What would you use on it?”
Young and maybe a bit overconfident, huh? Tal felt a weirdly uncomfortable kinship with the landshark for a moment before he shook the unfamiliar feeling off.
"Bear spear," Tal said promptly, naming one of the great, long steel-shafted weapons with the broad crosspieces meant to prevent ursurs from charging up their length and right up to the one wielding it, to take its killer with it to Mort's fields. "I wouldn't survive getting close enough to hit it with my axe. Not with how fast it is." A reluctant admission, but matter-of-fact. Tal had shown enough wisdom to run or hide from fights he couldn't win before.
"How do you hunt one if you don't have, you know," he wiggled his fingers. "Magic?" Both unearthing the beast and lifting it into the air where it was almost helpless seemed invaluable strategies - but neither were options for the scrawny courier.
“A spear could be effective,” operating solely on the could, since he’d never had to try it for himself, nodding and shrugging his shoulders. No bows or arrows, not with the rapid movements and the normal impediment of sand. Maybe some other magical items endorsed by deities or crafted by his own hand. “But you are right. Proximity is what you have to worry about.” He’d know – even as his blade had come down on the former land shark striving to feast on Zuriel in the Grounds, he’d nearly lost the limb for his efforts.
Surveying the options, and the terrain before him, the General of a land of eternal winter went through the multitudes, all the while continuing to twirl the land shark in the air. It appeared vaguely dizzy, and certainly aggravated. “You could bait them, and set a trap while you wait.” A ready force, knowing the predatory cretins would come calling and craving. “Which is what we may have to do if I bring a hunting party out.” And then he could use his magic.
Tal perked up at the support for his weapon idea, but the puzzle of how to safely attack a landshark and live to tell the tale kept him from puffing up too full of himself just yet. He scowled at the floating creature as it spun its lazy circles - begging the question: could landsharks get motion sick?
Suggestions emerged from the General towards more planned and measured approaches, and Tal nodded agreement even as he took mental notes. He was no Attuned but there was a sense that, somehow, a tail was still wagging. "Bait's easy, if it's sound and movement they come for. Traps, though... how do you trap something that's underground until it's too late?" He chewed his lip thoughtfully, scowling at the young shark as if trying to intimidate it into giving up its secrets. "Can they go right through solid rock?" Or was it just relatively loose dirt and sand that provided them with freedom of movement?
Pondering over the multitudes, his mind conjured images not yet created, but possibilities rendered – much like he’d drawn maps of terrain, battle proportions, or new weaponry. “We could craft something to hang bait,” and his finger pointed outward, towards the stretch of landscape riddled with bones and skeletons. “Or wait above it.” Where they could stand, out of harm’s way – he could even carve a platform out of earthen intonations and craftmanship, long enough for them to maul and diminish. Then all it would take was a little ingenuity, decent aim, and intentions of a land shark leaping and launching upwards – right where they wanted it.
Or again, magic.
Rotating the shark and then ceasing once the animal seemed quite put out by the whole thing, he turned his attention back to Tal, brows furrowing slightly at the question. “I do not know – depends, I suppose. The Fields in the Grounds are notoriously difficult to farm. The soil there is not the best.” Suffice to say, he hadn’t seen any crashing through rock, but sometimes the surface of the crust was just as obstinate and stubborn.
Tal's eyes gleamed with excitement as he nodded agreement to the plans. "If we can get it to jump, it'd be a lot easier to throw a spear or an axe at it." Which meant maybe he could be of some use, in spite of his lack of magical items or abilities. The thought clearly cheered him and he looked around for inspiration. "Could stand on one of the big skulls, maybe?" He nodded back towards the skinless head of the ancient megafauna whose arachnid occupant had so recently met its crunchy demise.
Uncertainty in the area of rocks as barriers had Tal shrugging. "Never been there," he admitted. "But was thinking maybe if we could bait one into one of those box canyons we passed a ways back, at least it would only have one way back out?" He paused, and then his excitement faded a little as he remembered what they were facing. "...Or, uh. Two, I guess. Since it could go straight down."
Speaking of down... high overhead, the dragon began to circle lower, drawn towards the flying shark with a certain professional curiosity for a fellow predator of the air - however reluctant her new brother-in-flight might be about it.
“Do you have any weaponry on you now?” Perhaps something collapsible, tucked away, only ready made with the notions were necessary. He tilted his head a fraction, and then his piercing stare motioned towards the bigger skulls, which anyone might have been able to stand upon, or land along, given a number of their Attuned tendencies within the guild. He nodded his assent, and his mind pictured a multitude of others things if those machinations didn’t work in their favor.
He had a thunderbird shift he yearned to use, anyway.
The Sword pondered over the canyons too, absentmindedly motioning the land shark through the air as if it had recently taken flight – the creature seemed completely unamused by the whole endeavor. There were a few mellow turns of his head, but it seems rather put out by each motion – snapping at the dusty, dry, winds more than once. “I could always keep them out of the sand,” once it surfaced (or before, really, if he desperately wanted to cheat – unearthing them again and again and again). “But we have some options.”
Belial, on the other hand, remaining still and transfixed, was well into practicing his stealthy motions. Deimos was grateful for the fact, and wouldn’t summon him for any particular reason – skills and tendencies required of the peryton should’ve taken credence over bemusements.
