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!
Tal patted the axe that was always on his hip, then hooked his thumb towards the pack on his back. "Got a couple of smaller ones for throwing in there, too. In case we wanted to do some target practice today." They weren't heavy enough to be lethal unless he got extremely lucky, but even a small axe to the head, gut, or leg could slow a creature down long enough for him to escape.
Not that they did much good in the pack, but the loops on his parka for them didn't do much good when it was too hot to wear the parka.
Tal kept sneaking glances at the floating landshark, his awe of the beast fading as its annoyance became increasingly comedic rather than frightening. Boreal circled lower still, Belial completely unnoticed now as she fixed fascinated eyes on the beast below her and contemplated feline-esque mayhem.
"Do you even need the rest of the Guild for hunting landsharks?" The question asked in Tal's usual blunt way. "Seems like you could deal with 'em all by yourself." Between measures of magic and steel, Tal's opinion of the General was clearly quite high.
With the lesson predominantly over, Deimos nodded, watching the listless edges of the shark. “And probably not off of the skulls,” which probably had some sacred component to the shrine filaments – and they had no need of angering any god of death today. With that notation in his mind, he intended to set the smaller creature free (though, one might wonder, for how long or how far, with both dragon and peryton watching). “I am going to let it go,” for a warning, in case some manner of his incantations failed – there was no need to slay the beast today.
And with that, his air incantations mustered another blast of mastered precision, and it took off like a shot through the wind and across the sands, farther and farther away from them. Perhaps disoriented. Perhaps rattled. Perhaps enraged. The Sword shrugged his shoulders, and then twisted his head in the direction of the sulphur pools and the deity. “Do you still need to pour some water into the well?” They could always head in that accord and see what was to be found from there.
But the following comment, blunt as it was, probably hadn’t been meant to maim. He knew that. For a moment, he stared at the courier, tilting his head a fraction pondering the meaning more than necessary, brows furrowing, before he began walking along. Somewhere in the sudden reticence was immersed, entangled hurt, discomforted by the implication. “The guild is not about me.” Nothing was, really. Any and all conceit, arrogance, or pride had long since been knocked out of him in his youth. In those darker threads and more devastating blows, Deimos had learned he didn’t matter at all. “It is to further educate members, on offensive and defensive measures, in a world full of monsters.” People or otherwise.
Skulls didn't make good targets for throwing axes, anyways. Not without more muscle behind the cast than Tal could muster; curving domes tended to deflect the bite of the steel edge and send the weapons skittering off at unexpected angles, so he just nodded acceptance and relaxed - as much as he could in the uncomfortably dry heat of the great big oven they'd walked into.
That lasted all of three breaths before Deimos gave his warning and Tal tensed, unsure of the where and the how of the carnivore's release. Boreal caught a sense of his tension and folded her wings to drop towards the floating shark, protective more than playful, but she only managed a snap of empty air as the landshark suddenly shot away across the desert sky. It was undoubtedly the trip of a lifetime for the landshark, but Boreal landed heavily with an irritable sulk.
Tal's grin returned at her annoyance, and he looked to Deimos with a nod at the question. "Yeah. Even if he's too weak to challenge Lady Winter anytime soon, figure it can't hurt to have Flowerbirth's good regard for us, right? Maybe someday..." A fantasy, wistful and wishful and not at all grounded in reality, and Tal shook his head ruefully.
He walked with more care now that he knew what to look for, casting eyes farther ahead of his feet for the tell-tale swirl of shifting sand, and his casual words brought an unexpected response from his mentor. Tal almost stumbled as he glanced back over his shoulder, not sure why what he'd said brought furrowed brows. He didn't know Deimos well enough to guess, either, so he just reached up to rub the back of his neck uncomfortably as he kept walking - grimacing as grit ground against sweat-sticky skin. "Oh. Uh. Sure. Well, it's appreciated. So... thanks. For today. An' next time, too?" The question slid in hopefully as he snuck a glance back to see if he'd passed the test.
Belial, from his silent, quiet venture, gave off an amused snort before he finally became tangible. Maybe it was at the dragon’s failed attempt. More than likely it was due to the landshark’s flung form hurdling across the dunes – but thereafter he could feel Deimos’ sudden discomfort, and made his way down to the Sword’s side in an easygoing saunter, circling back and forth until he touched down along the sand.
Aware he was being furtive, reticent, and unobliging due to his own insecurities and traumas, the General tried his best to smother the languishing feelings back down into nothingness. Ignoring the way the warning had passed over his breath without suitable explanation, because (he didn’t want to) he’d been working diligently on not feeling worthless and disregarded, the monolith chose to regard the first statement in confusion. “Do you want it to challenge the Eirachi?” With those old mystifying stories of the winter pressing over Halo’s wake, a varnish and lacquer of too many deals forged?
And then he moved along, strides sweeping, eyes on the horizon to look for telltale alterations, or for the sulphur smell to unwind. They still had a ways to go, and he brought out his canteen by way of distraction. “You are welcome.” Features still restrained, he took a few sips while the peryton bumped his antlers against an outstretched and calloused hand.
Boreal regally ignored Belial's amusement. Instead she gathered herself and leapt back into the sky, wings straining heavily to lift her bulk until she caught an updraft to help her along. The sand was far too hot for her liking, and she had no wish to burn the pads of her feet on it when she could fly instead.
Tal thought for a moment about Deimos's question, then gave a laconic shrug, brow furrowed in uncertainty. "I... dunno. Maybe? Hard to imagine Halo without snow but... it wasn't always that way." He chewed his lip, thinking fiercely before he tried again. "At least, I don't want things gettin' worse for us. A couple more big deals with Her Iciness an' I'm not sure humans'll be able to survive there anymore. I don't want that." Maybe not a challenge, so much as a mitigating force on the Eirachi's power over his home. And a hope for future generations of Seawrights.
He hadn't asked directly if he'd passed, so Deimos didn't technically dodge the non-question, but Tal glared his uncertainty at the horizon as he was left wondering. Maybe the test was still ongoing? "This Shrine, what's it look like?" he asked to pass the time instead.
Thoughts of seasonal deities, and Halo caught in the middle, gave him more to think about than just residual adversities and hardships, and while his hand scratched the top of Belial’s head, and rounded over to an ear, he pondered over the multitudes. He’d heard of the stories from before, legends slipping through from Naturals’ inclinations to teach Outlanders like himself. “I would hope that Neron’s experience ensures no one tried for a while,” considering all the fallout from that mess. However, individuals had their preferences, and some catered more to the snow, to the ice, than anything else. His head lifted vaguely to the stretch of sky, and the roll of heat; wrinkling his nose in dissatisfaction of the climate they lingered in. “We shall see once this one is recovered.” If the spriggan wanted to leave.
The question gave him pause for a moment, tilting his cranium vaguely, concentrating on the lines in the sand, to see if they were altering and changing, before pressing onward in a collected footfall of practiced quietude. Massive and towering he might’ve been, but childhood spent along ocean swells and vibrant surf and unobliging dunes meant he knew how to navigate its boundaries. He just didn’t want them waylaid by another cretin from below. “Not so much a shrine, as a well. Safrin lit it, so that it would be easier to find for travelers.”
"Fuckin' Neron," Tal grumbled bitterly at the ex-Warden's name, his scowl making a reappearance. He lifted a foot to kick at a small rock the way he wanted to kick Neron--
But Deimos's earlier warnings on motion and noise surfaced just in time, and the courier managed to set his foot back down gently without stumbling.
"Well, even if it doesn't want to help us, wouldn't want it mad at us." The young man gave a shrug, resettling his pack more comfortably against his sweaty back. "An' we were comin' out here anyway, sooo..." He trailed off with a verbal shrug for killing two ningo with one stone.
The dead plants seemed pretty normal out here, though Tal didn't have a good grasp of what constituted 'normal' in a desert. He padded quietly behind Deimos without giving them a second thought, eyes lighting up at the mention of Safrin. "Oh, hey! I got to meet her! You were right about how pretty she is." There was a decided bounce in his step at the memory of the kindly goddess. "She's gonna help me with my goggles." Proudly said, though with perhaps a little trepidation at the tasks ahead.
The bitterness and rancor following Neron’s name seemed to be a common theme; uncertain why Halo inhabitants had tolerated his presence for so long. Through the Sword's memories, Neron had done naught but damage in the interim, and had appeared utterly useless otherwise. "Did he ever do anything beneficial for Halo?" Thereafter, he simply snorted, gazing out ahead at the dunes again, watching for the slightest change in terrain – for pools, rather than constant, persistent sand.
The subject of Safrin altered the mood though, and he arched a brow in the courier’s direction, one hand still scratching Belial’s ear. “Congratulations,” came on a small smile, but the impact and meaning were there just the same – reminded, briefly, of his own pending inquiry towards the goddess. An eventuality for Halo, and if the calculations were feasible. “What do you have to do for them?” Presuming, based on all his experiences, that she wasn’t merely going to hand a pair of reinforced goggles out.
Tal rolled his eyes at the presumably rhetorical question, giving an indelicate snort to encompass his feelings for the ex-Warden. "Sure he did. He left."
Not for long enough, unfortunately, and why Morgan had brought him back and set him up in the government, Tal would never understand. It had been a hell of a slap in the face to the families of those killed during the cultist attack in Deepfrost.
Safrin was a much better turn of the conversation, like a drink of cool water washing away the aftertaste of a bitter pill. Tal grinned at the well wishes, a bounce back in his step - quietly - as he scrunched his brow to remember the instructions. "Mud from the Feverlands, water from the Arclight ocean, snow from the Tundra and, uh..." His grin faded a little as he came to the last one. "Air from someplace eagles fly." He chewed his lip fiercely in thought. "Haven't quite figured out how to do that last one yet..."
All right – that one got him – he permitted a round of laughter to slip out, as much as he tried to muffle it against the canvas of dust and dirt and sand, or walled within his chest, as so many other things were. “But then he keeps returning.” Some disturbing version of a ningo, maybe, brought back by mercurial whims and absolute stupidity. How or why Morgan saw anything within the man who’d brought ruin to her home never ceased to amaze the Sword; because Deimos had never seen him as anything more than useless, smarmy, and ineffectual. “He will get his due one day.” The General made no mention of how he’d nearly destroyed the idiot himself; if only because the result was that Neron still lived.
With those threads intact, previously cagey emotions smothered, and the distinct smell of sulfur encroaching on his senses, his attentions meandered to the way the dunes shifted, heading downward, into pools – boiling liquid uncanny and slightly wretched. “We are getting close,” by way of warning, a wrinkle to his nose already beginning to form.
Listening to the quest itself, the necessities didn’t seem too bad, until there was a particular line that might’ve made him chuckle again. Instead, a wry grin lingered along the corners of his mouth, just enough to seem purposefully Cheshire and amused. “Yes. If only you knew someone who could fly.”
Tal grinned smugly at earning a laugh from the General. He didn't get off quips like that very often, and he was particularly proud of it - at least until Deimos poked a hole in the humor by bringing reality into it. The courier heaved a disgruntled sigh, reluctantly agreeing. "D'you think Noah will banish him again?" A question asked with an indecent amount of hopefulness.
The sulfurous stench was hard to miss, and Tal's wrinkled nose took note even before he saw the pools. He stared at the boiling water uneasily for long moments before he realized he was falling behind, and hurried to catch up again. It seemed like a terrible place to sink a well, but what did a boy from Halo know about deserts?
Listing his ingredients was a welcome distraction from the stink, but Tal didn't notice Deimos's amusement until the rumble of the General's voice carried enough humor to make him look up sharply. "Oh! You mean Hota--waaait." A grin slowly started to spread across his own face in response to his friend's feline amusement. "You can fly, too? What's your shape?" So far he'd only seen the Hellhound, which had been impressive enough.
Pressing his wake and weight into the sand, easing his frame back in order to maneuver downward, the Sword snorted again. “I cannot imagine why he would allow him to remain.” But he’d been banished before – and ignored it, alongside Morgan and the rest of her Ascended posse, so something else would likely need to be done. Discussions already in the midst, and gathering in the back of his mind, nestling further and further until they seemed like one of the few options. It was a shame, really, when there were so many Ascended he’d met that hadn’t been anything like Neron or Wessex; but they’d become highlights of such dominions.
Strides elongating once more as they came to an even level in the drifts, his eyes darted in various directions, attempting to locate the well by memory alone. But he’d been along the skies then, and with Remi drifting near, guiding them along. He gestured to Belial, in a level of assurance with the peryton, shared expanses and bonds, and the companion took flight, ignoring the dragon, content with his mission.
Being a witness to Tal asking Ru for a favor might’ve been a hilarious venture, but the teasing and taunting had been reserved on his own pinnacles and might. Tilting his head vaguely, he nodded. “Eagle,” which had been the source of amusement first. “And thunderbird.”
04-13-2022, 06:06 PM (This post was last modified: 04-13-2022, 06:06 PM by Talyson.)
Tal made his careful way down behind Deimos, opportunistically using the more stable footholds that the General found on his way into the basin. "I really, really hope Noah slams the door on his ass," Tal muttered fervently. Noah seemed pretty smart so... hopefully the banishment would go back in place sooner rather than later?
Boreal circled overhead, giving a rumbling call of greeting to Belial as he rose to join her in the sky, but she held off on teasing him when Tal sent a piercing look up at her, sensing her proclivity to mischief even across the distance between them.
Attention returned to Deimos, excited to learn what other shapes the hybrid could summon, Tal looked suitably impressed at the mention of an eagle. Big, majestic, dangerous... yeah. It definitely fit. But the other word... "Thunderbird?" He repeated, brow furrowing. "What's a thunderbird?"
