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!
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
Listening while incantations flickered and bent to his decree, he withheld the snort threatening to volley through his nose and chest, tilting his skull ever so slightly to maintain a better sight and angle. Crouching lower and lower, his responses were measured in the countenance and bearing of an individual who’d spent multiple lifetimes surveying, brandishing, utilizing, and creating weapons. “There is more than ice and fire.” Earth. Air. Even lightning blazing through the schism of a blade, much like the one he’d made for Sah. “And what are you thinking for range?” Magic could alter the severity, but also the extension, pondering over the whip he’d enhanced for Maeve.
His eyes narrowed briefly at the inquiry, ceasing an implication before it had an opportunity to develop. “Only those that help will be testing them.” Purposefully not telling him where the trigger or lever was – implying with a nod of his head towards the rest of the soldiers working on piecing things together.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
Sah had lightning, so that was right out. Tal shuddered to think what the Thunder might say about him 'copying' his style. The teasing would be unbearable. It was hard to think of something so insubstantial as air being weaponized. In weather, sure, but as part of a glaive? Tal's imagination drew a blank. And earth was equally weird to think about. If he'd spent more time outside of Halo he might have come up with plant-based weaponry, but his inexperience proved to be his undoing. So he just shrugged uncomfortably and moved to the other question Deimos asked, perking up a little at having an answer to that, at least. "Somethin' with some distance. Thirty feet or so? Even fifteen would be better'n nothing." And the glaive itself would give him three or four extra feet of reach as well. Every little bit helped when he was trying to stay out of his opponent's range.
He caught Deimos's narrowed gaze and grinned unrepentantly at the tacit disapproval. "Fiiiine." He heaved a theatrical sigh, attempting (unsuccessfully) a martyred look that kept falling flat when his lips twitched back towards that grin. "I've got an hour til my next pickup. Where d'you need me?"{/b} He might not have the technical experience to know how to assemble or repair a siege weapon, but he could lift, carry, hold, measure, or cut fresh beams to spec if someone else directed him.
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
Had Deimos known of the reasoning behind not scorching other measures and elements, there would’ve been a rumble, roll of his eyes, and some lecture embedded in between – so maybe it was wise of Talyson to withhold his regards. Instead, the Sword was free to immerse and regale calculations liberated of those stupefying notions, maneuvering another wooden piece under his prowess and power. “So go from there. What would be most beneficial? What do you want it to do?” The Warden could offer endless options, but he’d always encouraged thought and independence from anyone and everyone around him.
With the downcast acceptance, the monolith snorted, gesturing with his head towards a trio of soldiers wrestling with first catapult's basket handle – probably because they’d yet to notice an invisible peryton sitting in it, biding his time. “They may need help other there. Something stuck, probably.”
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
Deimos almost never gave him easy answers. The General made him think, and while Tal could appreciate that on an abstract level there was still a part of him that was young enough to want those easy answers from time to time.
Today was not going to be one of those times, however, and his brows pulled together towards a scowl of fierce thought as the problem was adroitly spun around and handed back to him. "Umm... most importantly? Bein' able to hit from distance, so I'm not tempted to do somethin' as stupid as jumpin' on a landshark again," he admitted sheepishly. "I guess compared to that, elemental stuff is just extra flash." He began folding up the waxed paper wrapping of his pie with neat, crisp lines as it became smaller and smaller in his hands, echoing the narrowing in of his thoughts. "Somethin' easy t'carry, too. So I'm not tryin' t'fumble a big ol' polearm out of my Bag if I get jumped on the road." It was one thing to be prepared when he went looking for trouble; it was something else again to be ready for trouble when it came looking for him. He hadn't quite figured out the exact details, but narrowing down his desires seemed to ease some of the tension from his expression as he looked up at Deimos hopefully, seeking approval.
Tal was as oblivious to Belial's hiding place as the soldiers but at the sight of so many men fighting with the mechanism he gave his friend a cocky grin and a passable salute. "I'm on it, General Warden, sir!" Bounding over, Tal added his own strength to the mix - no longer the skinny little pup he'd been a year ago, but finally filling out with some muscle under Deimos's training regimens.
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
Adept at listening and calculating while applying his own measures to another thing entirely, Deimos pondered if they were getting to the root of Talyson’s necessities in weaponry, or merely flaring out in other attributes. “You can always have it made collapsible,” pulling in notions of a polearm that could extend and be made miniscule within a flash. Whether or not that aided in the machinations and decision process, the Sword couldn’t be certain – always pinpointed and certain of what he intended for his own armament purposes. “Sounds like you want range, potentially with elements, and lightweight.” Would that be the glaive, or something different now?
Permitting the courier to think more on the properties, for he’d be receiving no finite answers from Deimos, the Warden unfurled another bout of incantations, before rising from his inspection and crouch. With a nod towards the other soldiers, the rest gathered up the necessities for the testing, before his attention wandered towards the others.
Belial, cheeky and ridiculous, opted to grant the smallest of hints over his current ingenious plan, swiping an unfurled wing along Talyson’s form, before stilling once more.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
Tal nodded enthusiastically at the General's suggestion. "Yeah! I was thinkin' maybe something that can shoot out really far towards the enemy - stab! - and then retract," he agreed, gesturing with his hands. And never mind that the thought had only firmed up in the last few seconds. Now that he had something more concrete to wrap his head around his excitement was palpable.
Happily distracted by thoughts of this new potential weapon, the courier was in a good mood and eager to lend a hand in exchange for getting to fire one of the big siege weapons. He leaned in with the other soldiers, but something was definitely off about the weight and the counterbalance wasn't working--
The brush of a wing had him huffing in annoyance. "Boreal, stop foolin' around!" he scolded. But the dragon let out an aggrieved grumble from where she was finishing destroying her 'stick' a little distance away and nowhere near enough to have touched him. "Oh... then what...?" It was the dragon who stood up and shook herself off before spreading broad wings and taking flight, circling the basket curiously. Seeing nothing of interest, she flared her wings and started to come in for a landing herself with the age-old desire to see if she could fit - and sit in it.
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
Those suggestions and assurances seemed to spark something - though the Sword’s visions were likely different from Talyson’s. “Perhaps you can sketch something out,” he noted in another distinct rumble and tilt of his head, so they could all see what they were working with.
While his attention would’ve been on other schemes and mechanics, the ensuing scolds had his head whipping back around towards the courier and the others milling about the catapult – eyes narrowed, instantly suspicious. His answer came in a quick flash of movement from the peryton situated within the basket – clearly seeing his opportunity to reach with fangs towards the incoming dragon.
It might’ve been the opportunity the carnivorous deer had been hoping for, but Deimos was having none of it. “Belial,” was the only warning the companion would receive before he was blasted clean out of the sling by Mastered Air enchantments, scattered amidst the sky above the engineering warriors. A very long hoot of disappointment followed.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
Tal nodded eagerly, fingers twitching against the neatly folded paper in his hands as if already clutching a pencil. Alas, there were none near at hand and the concerns of the siege weapons soon pushed the design to the back of his thoughts as he put his hands to a much larger ranged option.
A pity they couldn't get the damn basket into position.
Boreal had no idea that her nethers were in danger until a blast of magical wind sent a sudden flurry of feathers into flight beneath her and the dragon let out a rumbled squawk of dismay, wings beating hard to lift her away from the danger zone with wounded dignity and far from the yeeted peryton. Tal couldn't entirely stifle the snicker of amusement at the sight, but when the dragon turned a baleful glare on her companion he suddenly sobered and put his back into pushing with the rest of the soldiers, finally able to settle the basket upon its launching mechanism.
"What're we loadin' them with?" he called to the General eagerly. Wisely, he made no mention of perytons as potential ammunition - though by the mischievous sparkle in his eyes the thought wasn't far from his mind.
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
Considering being flung out of the weapon had likely been the peryton’s plan all along, Deimos gave his companion another well-earned glare and didn’t permit the notions to go any further. Once all the soldiers had grimaced or growled at the culprit, the Sword moved towards the container of rocks they’d gathered from inside the training grounds. “Stones and other debris. We already placed some targets on the other side of the wall.” Snagging at a fistful of the former, he placed them within the basket, pointing towards the Citadel components, and the further stretch beyond, in the chance and opportunity that they’d be able to aim the things once everything was repaired.
If the courier gleaned to glance over, he’d find four makeshift effigies of various ranges and sizes – designated as larger Sunjatas and Nerons respectively, with proportions elongated to look increasingly uglier and more grotesque.
But the Warden wasn’t about to let Talyson have the first shot – not when everyone else had been working diligently too. Jutting his jaw towards the others who’d finished their repairs, the grins of the warriors reflected – loading the armament, pulling the lever, and they all bore witness as the catapult rallied, swinging its handle, flinging the stones, and knocking them headlong into the first Neron’s face.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
Having no desire to be flung anywhere, Boreal flapped her wings until she could find a thermal to ride high above the slings and arrows stones of outrageous fortune below, grumbling to herself until the shock had passed and she began to settle back into her usual laid back good humor.
Meanwhile, Tal had enthusiastically joined in loading the baskets as soon as Deimos showed him where the ammunition was, grinning awkwardly and getting elbowed by some of the soldiers in good natured ribbing as they prepared the repaired weapons for testing. The courier practically vibrated as he looked at Deimos with his best, biggest puppydog eyes--
But the General was adamant in not playing favorites and Tal had to wait his turn like everyone else.
There was a poorly-hidden pout as he peered over the top of the wall at the distant targets someone else was aiming for, but when he saw the first stones smash into that distended, smug Neron face he whooped as loud as anyone else and punched the air. "Fuck yeah! Nice shot!" he cheered the soldier.
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
The warrior grinned, content with wandering up to see their multitudes of damage done, before another took their place along the second catapult. “Best get in line,” the Sword warned Talyson with a juvenile grin – for this was always the favored part of the day. He did much the same, settling purposefully in front of the courier simply to get a rise out of him.
One by one they filed along, supporting and helping one another in turns and movements, levers pulled, mechanics in gear, the sounds of armaments in motion descending amidst the walls. Warriors positioned to spot along the barrier gave orders of positions, to turn or twist in range, before the onslaught of stones hit the marked Sunjata or Neron. Belial pouted, but flew overhead, occasionally chasing down the stones.
Eventually, Deimos took his mark, placing the stones amidst the basket, listening to the direct order of the soldiers in place, waiting for the go-ahead with an indulgent snicker. Demolition and desecration, even in the most minor of practices, always hummed a little under his skin, and when he pulled the lever, the impending crash and boom of a struck Flood face ensured contentment and satisfaction. Thereafter, he stepped aside, inclining his head towards the next catapult and Talyson. “You are up.”
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
While Tal had been admiring the shot the other soldiers had, indeed, been lining up but at least he wasn't the last. The fact that Deimos had used his longer legs to beat the courier to his place in the queue brought a wrinkled nose of dismay to his face but Tal only huffed and held in his grumbles. They were mostly just for show anyways; it wasn't like he could really begrudge the General the chance to play with his own toys of mass destruction and he shifted impatiently from foot to foot as he waited for their turns.
Those who had gone before helped to load the ammunition and took different positions in the manning and resetting of the weapons so that as more people moved through the line the more smoothly things went. Soon enough Deimos was reaching for the lever and Tal half-closed his eyes, throwing his consciousness up to see through Boreal's gaze for a moment, watching the rocks crash into their target from a better vantage than his own shorter stature provided.
And then it was his turn. Finally! Tal grinned and flung himself forward to man the next readied catapult. His fingers flexed with eagerness but he kept his hands off the lever as his spotter called out the distance and direction of the next target. With the help of another soldier he shifted the weapon onto the heading and cranked the winch to tauten the springs an extra turn to accommodate for the wind. Then the courier drew a deep breath and pulled hard on the trigger, letting out an enthusiastic whoop! as the construct beside him released and jumped with the sudden easing of tension and propelling of stones towards a wooden Sunjata with snaggleteeth and crossed eyes.
The aim was a little low; 'Sunjata' took most of the damage from the waist down but a hit was a hit and Boreal blew a plume of celebratory fire as Tal pumped his fist in the air and turned back to Deimos with a fierce grin. "We should build more of these!" he suggested enthusiastically.
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
The eagerness and fervor of destruction molded its way through all of them, until even the shyest or least demonstrative of the soldiers, were offering up whoops and glee, fists pumping into the air as the machines made their mark. Even Deimos drew a smile at the layers of chaos and demolition along the outskirts – wondering, hoping, that at some point it would be enough. Nothing ever was, but if they had themselves in line, if they could continue with these efforts, perhaps Halo would feel far more capable and defended than ever before.
And that was all he wanted, in the end. For everyone to be safe.
Talyson took his place and the stones struck their marks, pulverizing a portion of Sunjata that probably should have been gelded eons before, and then others followed suit, repeating the refrains and shouts. At the enthusiastic expression, half a grin still remained in the corners of his mouth, nodding along – the plans already well in place. “I have been considering it,” and his eyes went towards the outlines of the Wall itself. “And for some along the top.”
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
Tal practically vibrated at Deimos's grin, which he interpreted as approval. He wasn't surprised that the former (still?) General had already been thinking ahead; that was pretty much his former and current job description, and no one had ever accused the Sword of shirking the city's defenses while he'd been in charge of them. Still, the courier's eyes narrowed in thought as he studied the top of the well...
And then his grin took on a bloodthirsty edge of glee as he saw the potential. "We could really fling the stones a long ways from up there," he agreed enthusiastically. "Stop any enemies from even gettin' close! Maybe even chase off low-flyin' dragons," he added after a moment's more sober thought. He hadn't personally known the woman who'd been carried off within sight of the walls last year, but Sah and Delia had and that made her worth remembering. "But... what d'we do if they get inside the catapults' range?" Under cover of darkness of storm, perhaps.
