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!
Work never ceased. In some part, he was glad for it – no need for his mind to sink elsewhere, into crushing weights or domineering, hovering, impending misfortunes of a telltale war, when there were other actions to conduct. When it was not his turn to rotate through the Citadel in some diligent, observant guard, the Sword found other ways to occupy his hours – and between training, repairing weaponry and targets, or any distracting notions, he figured the people at large would require supplies.
Especially for the all-consuming LongNight. Even if the climate didn’t change, the atmosphere certainly did, and one as pragmatic and experienced as himself was not the type of individual to simply shrug off haunting, terrifying semblances. Which led him to proportions of drawing out his sled, Belial and Zuriel following close behind (more than once the peryton had landed within the opening itself, as if going for a ride down the street), and delivering portions of wood, already cut and split, to homes tucked and nestled within. Deimos waved or nodded his head to those hovering nearby, extending out the bounties in handfuls of sticks or logs, or leaving them along stoops and steps.
To ensure, he supposed, the citizens would be safe in some regard.
we exhume our enemy's bones we are battling, hungry beasts
Trotting down the snowy street with red-furred Bell at his side, the young man and his dog were for once sledless on their way back from a delivery. Tal was almost whistling, his habitual scowl lightened in the freedom of the outside air, and Bell's pink tongue lolled happily from her jaws as she kept pace beside him, practically bouncing along without a sled to constrain her energy.
It was Belial that Tal noticed first; notably, when Bell stopped dead in front of him, all four legs stiff as she went into alert. She hadn't forgotten the peryton's taunting antics from the park where the glass panes had been created, and her black eyes were bright with canine calculation. Tal knelt beside her and rested his hand on her shoulders, speaking soothingly to her while Deimos delivered more wood before he rose and ruffled her ears. She relaxed - slowly - while he stepped forward to wave at the General.
"Hey, Deimos!" He grinned and ambled up to the sled to check on how much wood remained in its basket. "Thinkin' of changing jobs?"
Belial was the first to notice another approaching – with a pulse of devilish amusement and a flash of maneuvering ears. Zuriel and Deimos both imparted some semblance of a warning, though the Sword’s came on a heavy sigh, and the peryton stayed put within the sled, but anyone would be able to tell the mischief was well and wholly immersed. All the more ridiculous to the other counterparts – figuring the companion could have far better things to accomplish than irritating a dog.
As if by future apology, the General reached into his pockets with a free hand and tossed a treat towards the canine, nodding towards the courier as he ambled up to the sled. His brow arched, pondering if he was inspecting the wares, before snorting at the query. “No.” Considering the amount he had, there were a few more stops along the way before he’d have to return to his home for more, where the logs had been split. “But I figured more supplies could not hurt.” A protector for Halo in more than one way.
His piercing gaze flickered back to Talyson, the vague head tilt measured and calculated as he took hold of the rope and continued walking, pulling the sled along with little effort. “What are you up to?”
we exhume our enemy's bones we are battling, hungry beasts
Bell kept a wary eye on Belial, though her tail wagged tentatively at seeing Deimos. It wagged harder at the tossed treat, and Tal ruffled her ears with a softly murmured permission. She pounced on it before Belial could try to snatch it away and trotted a short distance off to enjoy it in peace while her master went to speak to the General.
"Yeah," Tal agreed to the need of more supplies - and then groaned. "Oh man, I almost forgot - I was gonna do that, too. All the crap we cleared out of the greenhouse'll make good kindling sticks, at least. Can I come along?" He couldn't wag like Bell did, but if he'd had longer ears they would have been perked straight up. "Just finished the day's letter run, so I've got some time. What else have you got left for LongNight prep at your place?" he asked curiously - realizing only then that he had no idea if his friend had a home besides the Barracks.
The peryton watched with a scrutinizing eye, gaze going from the treat, to the dog, to the treat, until the canine seemed far too steadfast and determined in its haste. Maybe the warnings had been enough. Maybe Belial was maturing. Maybe he was biding his time.
While Zuriel kept a watchful scrutiny on the other bonded, Deimos nodded his head towards Talyson as they continued up the road, dragging the sled towards another row of houses, and then pausing to gather more of the wood. From there, he placed the pile of logs along the step, waiting for the courier to either follow suit or offer his bits and pieces of kindling. “Sure,” was in a rumble and quiet agreement. Perhaps less trips would have to be made then.
His own home had been stockpiled already; considering his incantation abilities, experience with LongNight amidst the Grounds, and his meticulous demeanor, the General had ensured his preparation some weeks before. “Not much. It is not as difficult nor time consuming as doing so in the Grounds.” No luring luxere, horribly, no lining the walls with snow moss, but certainly ensuring there was enough wood to keep the fires going. He'd likely pick up some more food to disperse amongst the soldiers and himself too. “And you?”
we exhume our enemy's bones we are battling, hungry beasts
Tal followed Deimos, having to stretch his legs to keep up with the General. While the large logs were piled into place the courier unhooked the Bag of Holding from his hip and reached in, tongue sticking out as he felt around for the right sized branches. He began by pulling out a handful of the smaller stripped lengths, far more slender than Deimos's delivery and dry from their storage. One handful and then another was arranged neatly on top of the logs, and he made a rough loop around them with some twine and tied them tight so wind or animals didn't carry them off before the homeowners could get to them.
It was back to the sled after that, and an awkward nod of greeting to Zuriel (no less awkward than most humans would have gotten) when Tal realized he'd forgotten to say hello earlier. "Mm. The Grounds..." The young man's scowl return in force as he considered the place. Rumors and hearsay had painted the place in grey and scarlet. There was an awkward few moments of silence as they proceeded down the street before Tal realized with a start that the question had been turned back on him.
"Uh, yeah, things are goin' pretty good. My sisters do most of the hard work," he admitted sheepishly, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "Runnin' a dry goods means we don't usually have t'worry much. 'Lexi's been bringin' in some extra meat, though. I wanted to get some more wood. Just in case, y'know?" A pale glance slid towards the sky - Frey's protection over the Citadel - and then back again uncomfortably.
"You fought 'em, right? The monsters from the Grounds? What were they like, there?"
Long and swift strides made short work of the walk in between houses, rinsing and repeating the methods and modes of movement and motions – placing some along steps, pretending, perhaps, not to be fixing a rickety wooden frame or porch along the way with minor incantations. It gave him something to orchestrate while waiting for the courier to apply his efforts, and before long they’d completed a trip down a row of the street, figuring they had one or two more homes before he’d have to refill the sled.
Zuriel tilted her head in a very imperial gesture towards Talyson, then gave a hardy snort and moved on, picking at something beneath the ground. Belial continued to watch and survey – clearly biding his moment – as the inquiry came forward. The General had half-expected it, glancing over his shoulder once, before turning back to witness where he was treading.
The monsters always brought forth some horrific memories, a system of traumatic events spiraling one right after the other. Partaking in them ensured others could grow from his experiences, though, which was likely the only reason he shared them. “Some were invisible. Others took different forms.” The former he found much more dangerous and alarming – blending into the darkness, giving no signs, no signals, no impending warnings. There was a pause thereafter, a habitual clench to his jaw that signaled discomfort in the next semblance of recounted images. Rexanna, specifically, in multiple instances. “Usually manipulative.” Echoing words and vicious screams, begging and pleading with the voice of another – a snare, a trap outside of safe, enclosed walls. Until they weren’t anymore. “They would try to lure you out by pretending to be a loved one.”
we exhume our enemy's bones we are battling, hungry beasts
Tal had to stretch his legs to a near trot to keep up with the General's pace, following in his friend's wake and dipping into his Bag of Holding again and again for armfuls of slim branches, sticks, and ambitious twigs that would catch fire with more ease than the solid logs that Deimos brought. They wouldn't burn long, but if they could fuel the hungry flames long enough for the logs to catch they would do their duty.
Bell finished her treat and trotted obediently along at the front of the sled, stopping when it stopped even without a harness on. She watched the humans at their game of sticks curiously but always seemed to have one red ear cocked towards Belial.
Rumors of the monsters of the Hollowed Grounds were like scary stories told around a dying fire; ill omens and blackest murder committed for mysterious, nefarious purposes. Tal listened to the rendition of one who had been there, a first-hand account, with wide eyes and a delicious shudder of fear at the nightmares Deimos conjured. "How did they know?" A question asked while depositing another bundle of kindling from his bag. "About who you loved?"
Zuriel casually inspected the dog, stopping beside the sled when the two men had ceased to do their timber drop off, dropping her head and breathing in a loud snort – slightly dragonic. From his place on the seats, Belial did nothing but wag an obnoxious fluff of deer tail.
The bundles were placed, and eventually the already-made supply ran out. “I have some more at home,” he acknowledged, intending to drag the sleigh back down the road and to his house, then start again at the top of the street, where they’d left off. It would’ve been easier to continue and disperse without the flicker of ominous, traumatic memories, and maybe that was why his strides were so extended and the pace a bit unrelenting for something that should’ve been a simple walk.
The inquiry blistered and his eyes fell downward, along snow, stones, and previous tracks, jaw clenching for a moment as his hands tightened over the sled’s rope and line. “They might be capable of reading thoughts. Memories. Images.” Taking fears and dreams and hopes and whatever else lingered in the crux of an individual’s head. He swallowed down a multitude of things, boots driving deeper into the powder. “But they cannot replicate the person perfectly.” A shrug of his shoulders lingered there, at the base of his neck, as if he was trying to shake off or repress the shudder threatening to coil down the length of his spine. “I tried to use the Attuned bond to talk to them, and they could not do it.” The only way he’d been able to ensure it wasn’t Amalia outside those walls.
we exhume our enemy's bones we are battling, hungry beasts
No stranger to draconic snorts Bell wagged her tail twice at Zuriel's interest, looking up at the much taller unicorn with calm curiosity. Belial wasn't forgotten, but the lead dog was quite happy to give most of her attention to the more peaceable equine instead.
Tal nodded at the General's statement, falling in beside him as Bell trotted along at his side on their homeward journey. He was entirely too curious about just where his friend called home though he tried to be nonchalant about the trip there to resupply.
With such a thrillingly scary topic at end it was easier than usual. For someone who'd never had to deal with the monsters first-hand, it was all a comfortably distant 'what-if,' but even Tal eventually noticed the tension in Deimos's hands and the hard look on his face at the unpleasant memories. Swallowing hard against the realization that Deimos might have lost friends to the monsters, the courier ducked his head in embarrassment for his earlier zeal. "What was the best way to fight them? Did regular weapons work? Or did y'need magic?" Questions more subdued, turned to practicalities rather than personal curiosity now.
Unaware of Talyson’s curiosity towards his home, the courier would likely find the outside to not be anything of note or substantial. Plain, unadorned, Spartan in its existence, much like all the others upon the rows amongst Snowcloak and the Citadel itself – any noticeable difference would be the targets lined up outside and along the perimeter, of all varieties and sizes, as if the General had clearly been practicing here in his off-time too.
Zuriel marched forward and Belial remained in his place, glancing down at creatures from his sled position – clearly not willing to give it up. While his companions milled about, the Sword went towards the pile of wood already left out front, and began to hoist the split logs into the empty sled. The question, at least, didn’t derail into any other torturous ends, and the alignment in his figure wasn’t so rigid and unbending, waiting for some impending blow. His tones were a bit lighter too, not filled with some distant, hardened, fatigued rumble – normalcy, in discussing the figments of battle. “Fire.” Much like when dealing with Ascended. “Regular weapons were not as effective,” recalling Kiada’s tale – and the armaments he’d offered in their battles towards the monsters. “But mostly anything with burning elements seemed to do well.”
we exhume our enemy's bones we are battling, hungry beasts
The house might not have been impressive, but the targets were everything Tal had expected of the General and he grinned a little to himself at the sight. Strolling up to the woodpile behind Deimos, he began to grab a few logs and stuff them into his Bag. He started with those on the smaller end, but was pleasantly surprised when they felt lighter than he expected and he began to snag the middle-weight ones as well. "Hey, I think all this trainin' is payin' off," he quipped proudly, looking entirely pleased with himself.
Not that he was ignoring the General's advice. His nose wrinkled at the need for fiery weapons, grin fading back to serious considerations. "Um," he agreed, not with any great enthusiasm. "Hopefully there aren't any more around, then. I don't think I've got anything that would work against 'em." His axes were perfect while out on the trail, but had been proving less than impressive compared to the magics and might of the people had fallen in with these last few seasons. He piled another half dozen logs into his bag, chewing his lip fiercely before turning to face the General with an awkward clearing of his throat.
"If I get good enough trainin' with the spear, would you consider makin' me a magic one?" he asked hopefully. "I can repair lots of targets in the Barracks for you!" Fair was fair, even - especially - between friends, he figured.
He didn’t have any expectations for Talyson fighting them – the Sword would always put himself on the front lines well before any constituents or fellow citizens. He didn’t voice this notion, leaving it to remain unsaid as he hoisted more logs into the sled, until the sounds were no longer audible, hollow clunks.
As the courier cleared his throat, his brow arched, expecting something, unfurling a long sigh through his chest before the question even prospered. Another weapon. He withheld a snicker, ducking his head back down and grabbing hold of a few more pieces of lumber, before turning the sled, pointing it towards the portion of the street they hadn’t meandered through yet. “Maybe.” Which wasn’t a promise, because he had to be careful with time, seasonal limitations, and what was pending on the horizon. “Things for the war will likely come first,” as there had been some other ideas floating, to coincide with the watchtower, that he’d emblazoned and routed along his diagrams.
And with that, he proceeded to drag the sleigh again.
we exhume our enemy's bones we are battling, hungry beasts
Tal hastily crammed some more logs in his bag before trotting after Deimos as the sled and its General continued their rounds. The magic construct certainly allowed for bringing a lot more with him in one trip than he could have carried on his own, or even with one of his sleds, and he was downright smug at how much easier it made his life.
It made it easier to accept the conditional with a sheepish duck of his head and a belated nod. "Oh. Yeah, of course," he agreed, wincing at the reminder of the upcoming War. "Hard to believe that it's all gonna happen before next Deepfrost..." Spotting an empty doorstep, Tal headed over to pile some of the logs from his sack beside it before coming back to rejoin his friend. "What other stuff do we need to do to prepare for it? I mean... it's not like we've fought any wars in a while," he mused, scowl returning. "Unless you count against the cannibals and cultists." Though this sounded like it was going to be much bigger than any one region's bandit troubles.
