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!
The ursur was already dying; a punctured lung, something nicked in the heart the spear had lodged next to combining to overcome its rage and feral fury at its unexpected demise. Even so it refused to go down quickly, leaving Tal to dangle until the General's final barrage cut its last moments mercifully short. With a low, pitiable moan it collapsed, the last breath rushing out of it in a red froth.
And lay still.
Tal waited several more seconds before he forced his hands free from their death grip on the spear shaft and dropped the last few inches to the snow, landing in a crouch as his shaking legs refused to fully support him. He staggered, reaching out instinctively to steady himself-- against the mountain of white fur next to him. The courier jerked his hand back as if from a hot stove, but the ursur didn't move and slowly, slowly the courier's shaky breaths began to slow and steady again.
"Th-thanks," he stuttered, reaction still jittering through him as he nodded gratefully to Deimos. "My grip was starting to slip."
He still needed to skin the beast, but... that could wait until the trembling had passed.
life shivers, melts, moves on the pain says I have come for you
At his silent command, the modest storm of shards and ice dissipated as quickly as it’d begun – leaving the remnants of the hunt to remain: Talyson, shaking and staggering, and the newly fallen corpse of the ursur.
He watched and waited; mostly for the courier to regain his stature, nodding as he strode forward, retrieving his carving knife from the belt of armaments strapped around his waist. For half a moment though, he peered directly at the youth – remembering days of his own where first battles and duels and skirmishes left his own figure shuddering from the leagues of adrenaline, from the hollow schisms of bloodshed and death. “You did well,” he rumbled, crouching beside the bear, giving the other figure space. “Was this the first one you killed?” Uncertain if he’d spent years running, avoiding, and evading them, rather than settling for the predacious wake, and then his mind curling into tradition, the roles Noah had taught him along the tundra.
This time there was no proud grin at the praise. Tal bit his lip and bobbed his head in acknowledgment, but there was still a tremor in his hands as he rubbed them together out of nervous habit. The spear was still sticking out of the bear's body, and he approached the awkward job of climbing up to retrieve it.
A hesitation was followed by a second nod at the question, the courier's grip tightening momentarily on the shaft before he began to pull at the weapon to free it. "Y-yeah. I didn't... The one that almost killed me an' took off my aunt's legs... she was the one that killed it." With a grunt and a forceful effort he jerked the spear out and almost stumbled as it suddenly lost its resistance. Sliding off the bear's flank he rejoined Deimos and fumbled his own knife out so they could begin to separate hide from meat. "...I don't think I could have done it alone this time, either," he admitted in a quieter voice, eyes focused determinedly on the section of skin he was removing and too self-conscious to look over at his friend.
life shivers, melts, moves on the pain says I have come for you
Cutting away portions of the pelt, separating sinew and flesh from the rest of the bear, was easy compared to the range of emotions flickering away from the courier. The General almost sighed; having not intended to invoke any of the other traumas associated with ursur – though they seemed to have a gallows reputation with almost all Halovian citizens. Eyes downcast and concentrating on efforts, he shrugged his shoulders, aiming to alleviate whatever mire was brooding in the sanction of the youth – the Sword already over the sulking. “You do not have to.” No harm, no shame, no pride lost, in taking others to assist. Wasn’t that why Deimos had been there in the first place? To ensure there was no rapid loss, no death, no demolition, save for the bear itself? There’d been compatriots and comrades in the middle of wars, battles, and skirmishes, to ensure numbers returned – so the monolith wasn’t certain where this bizarre line of self-consciousness was coming from, but he wasn’t about to listen to it much longer.
“I only asked because Noah told me about Halo’s tradition of one’s first ursur kill.” Not to test and see if the youth had eight more chips on his shoulders; fighting off an eye roll beginning to forge there. His glance chanced in Talyson’s direction though, to see what kind of reaction the next words would elicit. “Eating part of its heart to gain its strength.”
Tal had hunted plenty of things that weren't ursur when he'd been on the trail, and he worked with a quiet efficiency that improved as the adrenaline began to fade and his hands steadied. He took one side of the bear while Deimos took the other so they could more quickly see the large task through.
Maybe it was just that people weren't used to Tal being introspective; it wasn't a state of mind the courier found himself in very often. He paused in his cutting for a moment to digest what Deimos had said, alone having been his default state when facing problems on the trail for as long as he'd held his position. A flash of a grateful smile was quickly hidden by the duck of his head before he moved to the other side of the bear to continue the work.
Silence greeted Deimos's words; perhaps thoughtful or just merely distracted by the task at hand. It was hard to tell with the bulk of a giant tusked bear between them. "...Okay, that sounds gross," he finally said, and perhaps Deimos could hear the way his nose wrinkled as he said it. "Are you sure he wasn't just teasin' you? Maybe it's some weird hunter joke on Outlanders?" He hadn't really thought about Noah as the joking kind before, but he also only really knew the man by reputation. After all, none of the legends around Deimos had mentioned his sense of humor before, either.
life shivers, melts, moves on the pain says I have come for you
“It was not terrible,” and the Sword shrugged too, knife neatly, cleanly, peeling the pelt away from the rest of marrow and bone. Not as a hellhound anyway, snagging and consuming as a vicious carnivore, a vehement predator. Notions of Noah possibly teasing and taunting him hadn’t been a stretch of possibilities, but he’d heard other hunters talking and discussing the matters too – sometimes even the soldiers amongst the barracks, while they traded stories after skirmishes and spars.
Even if the Sentinel had, no harm had been done. The semblances of trust had been well-woven and immersed between them anyway; Noah had been part of the reason Deimos had survived the last widespread illness.
“Sounds like you do not want its power,” and here he grinned, teasing, but not pushing the courier to commit to one action or another, before finishing up on his portions of the fur.
Somehow, even though he didn't say anything, there was a decidedly dubious note to the continued skinning coming from the other side of the bear at hearing that it 'wasn't terrible.'
And then, like a parka-wrapped prairie dog, Tal's head popped up from behind the bear's shoulder to scowl at the General. "I didn't say th--" He saw the grin too late and realized he was being teased; completing the prairie dog impression, he popped back out of sight as the flush of embarrassment chased its way over his ears.
"I uh... I don't need it," he protested, tugging a stretch of hide free with a grunt. Popping up again he grinned and puffed up his scrawny chest proudly, flexing his bicep that was conveniently hidden inside his thick parka. "See? All that climbin' an' shit in the barracks is really paying off!"
life shivers, melts, moves on the pain says I have come for you
Considering Deimos’ strength, power, brawn, and might (and that he was wholly capable of popping Talyson’s cranium like a grape), his features remained especially reticent and unimpressed. He blinked several times, before ignoring the gestures altogether, ducking his head momentarily to snag at the pelt. “You done over there?” That way they could continue cutting, parsing through the hide, meat, and tissue, drain it, load up the carcass and take it home – allowing many other livelihoods in Halo to benefit from their hunt.
Belial eventually meandered his way down too, to either harass the dogs or see how the work was going, inspecting the death dirge of still and silent bear.
Tal deflated slowly, the false bravado draining out of him when Deimos only blinked and went back to work. "...Yeah," he confirmed, coming over to lend his hand to peeling the hide off the bear's back and freeing it from the body. It was heavy and unwieldy, an awkward burden even more for its size and floppiness than its weight.
Boreal spiraled down in Belial's wake, slow and leisurely as she crooned her approval of her companion's hunting prowess. Leaving the peryton to harass the humans at their task, she instead descended on the moose and stuck her muzzle in the torn-open belly the ursur had only just begun to feast on.
"Do you... know anything about lials?" Tal asked cautiously, beginning to slice into muscle and what minimal fat remained on the bear after Deepfrost's lean season. The long knife cut cleanly, sectioning meat away in chunks to lighten the carcass so the rest would be easier to shift and process.
life shivers, melts, moves on the pain says I have come for you
With the pelt loaded upon the sleigh, the rest of the harvesting could continue, and so Deimos worked amongst the blood and stillness, carving away, gaze narrowing to Belial for a few moments at time, to ensure the peryton was behaving himself. Only when Tal’s inquiry came over the side of the bear did his attention meander back to collected notebooks and guildhouse notes, attempting to recall what had been transcribed by other wanderers in the Climb. “Appear to be dangerous, large crocodiles that specialize in fire.” And mauled their prey with such heat.
Cutting another large proportion of meat, he allowed the curiosity to take hold again – wondering if Talyson was setting his sights on one of them – and for what reason. “Are you hunting one of those as well?”
Tal scowled thoughtfully at the knowledge that was imparted, tucking it away for further research once they were back at the Guildhouse. There weren't many crocodiles in Halo, but he'd seen one once in the Feverlands...
Overall, he thought he preferred the snow dinosaurs.
The question impinged on his uncertain machinations after a few moments of inadvertently awkward silence and the courier flashed the General a sheepish look. "Huh? Oh, yeah... I asked Frey for somethin' to let me travel in Deepfrost. So they sent me after an ursur and a lial. ...An' rocks." The last addition was piped up helpfully after another long pause. "But those are easy to get. The critters, not so much." The scowl returned as he sectioned off more hunks of meat and set them aside to freeze neatly in the Flowerbirth snow.
"Figured I'd get the ursur sorted first, since it was closest to home. Not quite sure what to do about the firelizard yet." The brutal heat of the Climb was bad enough without some cranky handbag breathing fire at him, too. "Any advice y'have, I'd take it," he added hopefully.
life shivers, melts, moves on the pain says I have come for you
Concentration catered to the meat, rising from his crouch amidst snow and sinew to place larger portions along the sled – tilting his head only to deliver a warning sign to Belial – before persisting in the same ritual. The courier’s explanation didn’t require much digging into any machinations; understandable, given the impassable routes and his occupation. If the skyport was constructed along the presses of spring and summer, then perhaps it would be less of a worry from the people at large as well.
The additional tagline caused his brow to arch, and a long, slow breath to escape from his lungs. Maybe because the Sword had been helpful and obliging to most citizens, occupants, and friends alike, but it seemed as though his presence and existence came upon notions of expected, assumed assistance. He wondered, very briefly, if some of them were gaining a learned helplessness faction to their characteristics – which he’d never yearned to encourage. In training, he'd eternally sought for individuals to think on their own and as a collective front. It seemed he needed to the same for members of his guild as well.
“I know what I would try,” and he gave a little smile – immersing in the notions of elemental fixtures, of water, of ice, or even the tactic of life drain, to pierce and inflict pain in between protective scales. “But think of what you have available. What would you do?”
The processing continued; rendering what had once been an apex predator down to its component parts, much needed by the citizens in these early days of Flowerbirth when stores were depleted from Deepfrost and new food was still scarce. Tal continued cutting away, easier in the ursur's presence now that the hide was off it and was reduced to a pile of muscle and meat. He carved, and handed the chunks off to Deimos to load onto the sled while the companions nosed and nibbled and investigated the moose.
His guildmaster gave him a conundrum in answer to his question, and Tal's brow furrowed, nose wrinkling in deep thought as he considered what he had to use against a creature of fire and lava and scales. His scowl grew pronounced as he turned his options around, brain working overtime on the problem until the words began to slowly emerge.
"Uhh...well. They're like fiery crocodiles so... if they swim around in the lava I'll need bait to get one out. That's pretty easy. A ningo should do it. And then somethin' to stop it from goin' back in again." Where he couldn't reach it. "Maybe a steel spear with a chain on it... like a harpoon?" Something that wouldn't melt in the lava, at least not right away. He snuck a glance at his friend to see if he was on the right track. "Might be too hot to get close with my axe, so... another spear to try and stab it in the mouth or eye or somethin'? An' maybe someone along to help distract it so I can make the shot. It worked pretty well with the ursur!" His grin flashed back for a moment at the teamwork that had brought the current quarry down.
life shivers, melts, moves on the pain says I have come for you
Deimos listened all the while, never interrupting the youth’s processing. It was much the same when he asked his fellow warriors for their plans of attack during drills and skirmishes, amidst the routines of war games. And while they wouldn’t all be tacticians, at least it was progress in finding their niches, their abilities, and miring their way through strategy, without constantly relying on the Sword, or any other stronger individual. So while Talyson meandered through probabilities, weapons, and alternating fixtures, the General snagged at more of the ursur, loading it onto the cart – and maybe giving small pieces to the companions.
He raised his head back to the youth once he’d announced levels of teamwork, waiting for the inevitable. A brow arched, then flattened, before the monolith persisted in peeling away more sinew and marrow. “See. That is better than nothing.” Though an awful lot of weaponry – wondering, since he’d never seen Talyson do any magic or attuned mannerisms, and he certainly wasn’t an Ascended… “Do you also have the ability to channel?”
