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!
Darkeye had packed his travel things and was planning to visit some areas as he had been advised to do by Lena and Lilliane. The location was important. Kings End was the first place he wanted to look at, it was actually a burial mound of ancient gods or beings, but it was worth a look. The terrible soil that was everywhere was tempting to come, but was it a good place to found a village? He had spats with him as well as ropes with knots in them to measure the distance. The winter was his last season where he could prepare for this, the war was near...
Had it not been in the throes and thralls of winter, he probably could’ve admired the fertile grounds of King’s End. Instead, he spat and kicked at the edges of the snow, nose turned up, squat, chubby body huffing and puffing along the fringes. He’d wandered from the Hollowed Grounds by sheer force of will and irritation, and while the sweat was beading down the length of his face, down his neck, and underneath his patched-up coat, he was far from done. “Spooky bastard,” he mumbled, only glancing upward to find another, maybe older than him, some distance away.
“Oi!” He shouted at the top of his lungs, hands cupped around his mouth. “Ain’t you from the Grounds?” He’d seen him before, maybe. Probably.
Darkeye turned to the farmers and wondered why he was still in the field working at that time. "Yes, I'm, how can I help you, good man. I am Darkeye. You shouldn't be out here alone, especially at this time of year. What happened, if I may ask?" He was worried about the man, you could see that he was not well and that he had a lot of things to worry about. He didn't know if he could help him, but more than ask if he could help.
He could not be a cleric anymore if he looks away and ignore the man in need. Kor would not want it to be ignored. He was the first man he saw after all the time in kings end and he needed help
At least he’d caught the others’ attention – Darkeye. Huffing a little, winded from his trek, he hacked a few times before continuing on his conversation. “Eh, just wonderin’ if you’d seen any cursed crops.” Though, based on the current season, maybe it didn’t matter. Though, he supposed, journeying over to Torchline or the Oerwoud would mean more of the latter.
But anyway, onto the explanation. “My gods damned turnips grew teeth.” From there, he raised his hands up to his mouth, imitating some notion of fangs with his pointer fingers. “Fuckers. Like those blasted gourds." and he spat along the ground, eventually bringing his hands back into his pockets, face sour and irritated.
Darkeye had to stifle a laugh because he had to think of Melita and her vampire pumpkin. "Damn plants I'm sorry to disappoint you, good man, I've been walking around here for a few days and I haven't found anything that corresponds to what you're talking about but I know the creatures you're talking about." He said in a calm tone.
The curiosity grew, however, so he asked with great curiosity. "What happened to make your beets do that? Did you fertilize them too much or what happened? Something like that doesn't happen just like that, or did you even get a magician to do it? Or a guardian of the forest." He asked calmly, trying to find the cause of this situation, as well as the appearance of the mysterious flesh hole.
No help to be found here either. His face didn’t change from its embittered, sour complexion, much like a wrinkled, withered, old boot. “Pretty sure it was that shit Ludo,” he murmured, grumbled, the tones lower, as if he were somewhat ashamed or grumpy again. It was difficult to tell. “Who else would curse crops?” A rhetorical question – given that probably any god who’d had enough of this man and his family would’ve done the same.
“All we’d done at our shrine was say Safrin was better’n, you know, the next thing I fuckin know…” the impersonation of the turnips returned, complete with arms akimbo, withdrawn from warm pockets to increase the dramatic flair. “Didn’t want to be swept up into any god shit.” Nor did they need any mage or guardians of the forest; though he couldn’t recall if he’d pissed any of them off lately either. The mind and memory went quicker these days.
He looked at the man in surprise, wondering if it was a bad joke. He hadn't heard much about Ludo yet, but this seemed very far-fetched, but was this Herald really so vain that he could join forces with voice? "And Ludo did this because you think Safrin is better? What is your family doing now, can you still eat, or have you already asked Ludo for forgiveness or for help from Safrin?" there were still too many unanswered questions.
The god of the dead, who also likes to play pranks at the expense of the living, was stretching the bow a bit. It didn't seem like the behavior of a deity, but rather like the actions of a louse, and he thought about how he could help them. "There is a shelter if you keep walking towards the forest, as well as a place to eat until you find a solution to your problems." He said, not knowing what else to do.
“They don’t like each other,” and he shrugged – since that had been a common place notion for any Natural. They just hadn’t given a shit in the moment, forgoing and forgetting how on edge everyone and everything had been with the war looming. “Eh, we can eat. Just gotta avoid the fields until they all fuckin die off.” They’d turned out to be plenty hardy, the damned turnips, feasting on whatever remained at the edge of the property, even in the midst of winter.
“Not askin any gods for anything for a while,” he added, the countenance morphing into something very petulant. “Thanks though. You be careful then.” Huffing and puffing off, another incoherent, briefly muffled venture to their tone, but likely fine to not have been heard at all.
Darkeye took out his little notebook and tried to write down everything he had heard, despite the temperatures. "Then be patient, good man, I think it can be done, and if not, come to the Grounds and ask for me, maybe I can help you." That was all he could offer the man. He just wanted to vent and needed someone to do it with.
He looked at him quite closely. "You must know that I would try to make my peace with the gods. I wish you good luck on your further journey," he said in a calm voice and put his book away again. He hoped that he would see him again someday, perhaps after the war. Darkeye went back to the Grounds.
