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!
ache first, but then let the cuts close spit out the blood
The Sword, ever the curious wanderer even on his worst days, thought he knew King’s End well. After departing from the masquerade and all its scruples, he opted to take steps of nostalgia before flying home, long strides taking him towards Mourn. Blankets of snow obscured most of the flowers and benches, but he didn’t need them as landmarks; not after the time he, Noah, and Cordelia had spent in their brief exile from mountains and summits. Short-lived and busy as they’d been, they’d left behind cabins and gardens, and for the moment, it was bizarre to think it had ever happened at all. Government shifts, fire-forged wars, and angling of alliances and standpoints all fizzled out into these respites of repose.
Head raised, the march along the boundaries was steady and certain, until he noticed another distinction against the ground. Brows furrowed and inquiring mind already conjuring a myriad of questions, Deimos eventually reached the grove, and its well. Eyes raised towards its roofing, windows of nothingness, and then followed down the seemingly endless shadows lined with rainbow stones. That hadn’t been here before. Not bothering to lean over it, having learned from the new pools in the Greatwood, he instead snagged at a small pebble, and on an impish, juvenile quality still laden in his soul, he tossed it over the rim.
watch your body pull itself back together then let your soul do the same
Darkeye was once again gripped by his wanderlust and tried to document the changes in Kings end for himself. How much the quake and the war had changed the world here was impressive. He didn't know much about the place or the well. But it was often remembered by him as a special place. A landmark for orientation. It was a beautiful piece of land in his eyes. Why one should give up living here was beyond him. Perhaps it had once been a farmer and had not survived an illness. Or some other reason, he didn't know.
He walked towards the well with his spear in his hand as a walking stick and saw a familiar face that he had not expected to see there. He walked neither quietly nor loudly. The thick coat helped against the cold. He cleared his throat. "Deimos be grateful, I did not expect to see you here. How are you? How have you been?" the questions bubbled out of him again.
ache first, but then let the cuts close spit out the blood
He waited, rooted in expectation. Presumptions, no matter how many times he’d learned not to make them, still always managed to coil their way through his mind. Youthful enterprises in earlier years had taught him the nature of wells, and the expectation was that he’d hear some echo of a splash, some chased rivulet, some enclosed ripple –
And then there was nothing.
Brow furrowed, he grasped hold of another stone and intended to follow the same pattern, flicking it with his thumb as one might a coin –
Only to not hear any result this time either, on account of another’s presence.
Head lifting, his stance grew rigid and stoic, automatic reactions due to the surprise of the visitor, but his features withdrew into something far more comfortable once his gaze recognized the interloper. “Darkeye,” he rumbled in return, granting a nod. “I was being nosey,” and his jaw jutted towards the well, as if it explained a great deal about his predilections for curiosity. “I am well. How are you?”
watch your body pull itself back together then let your soul do the same
"I'm fine thanks for asking. Busy as usual. I needed some time off from all the back and forth. Just wandering the neighborhood as I used to and drawing the maps. Where I haven't carried so much responsibility yet. But what are you doing out here so far from home? Or do you know what this is? "He asked quietly. He was always happy to see Deimos. He often had good ideas and made the old dwarf see things from a different point of view.
He would like to know what made Deimos throw the mpnzen down there. Was it a ritual or a pastime he didn't really know from his world? There was the god of luck. And the statement that was imprinted on it. Help yourself then Phex will help you. Simply said, take your luck into your own hands.
ache first, but then let the cuts close spit out the blood
It didn’t surprise him that Darkeye had been busy. Even in the midst of repose and sanctuaries, the priest seemed to have motives, goals, and aspirations, especially for the Grounds, and as someone similar, Deimos wouldn’t judge him for it. “I came from the masquerade,” and he jutted his jawline towards the refuge in the distance, hiding his notions and thoughts on the spectacle. He hadn’t enjoyed the semblances of magic or attunements peeled away, that was for certain. “Grounds doing all right?”
Knowing what this was in particular was a stretch, and so he rolled his shoulders in a vague shrug. “A wellhouse, but I did not recall ever seeing it before.” And he’d explored the vast range of King’s End in their time of exile, while grumbling and plotting next movements. His gaze eventually settled on the well, another shrug following. “Tried to throw a stone in to determine the depth,” and because it was slightly juvenile. “Did not hear anything.”
watch your body pull itself back together then let your soul do the same
He thought for a moment and looked back. "The masquerade, yes. The feast from the man who let the Grounds down. Yes, I was there too... I wanted to see what he built there. A brothel. Someone was very busy while the world was dying around him. I liked the idea of his safe haven. But I would not have run away from these duties if I were him. But I don't think I can see him in much good anymore."He gave free rein to his thoughts. Darkeye really wanted to know how Sunjata was doing, but he would never ask him.
But Deimos quickly turned his thoughts in another direction. But what the well wanted here, he did not know. There were many ways to pass the time.
ache first, but then let the cuts close spit out the blood
His eyes roamed from the darkness of the well, and back to Darkeye, as words flew and thoughts were expressed. He may have muffled the tiniest of snorts or a range of laughter, keeping and trapping it inward as the vitriol flew, but couldn’t hide the smirk marking its way to his features. It was always satisfying to hear another’s vehemence lodged at Sunjata, even if it was followed by frustration by the man’s whims, mercurial efforts, and less than impressive pursuits. “One good idea does not erase all the other faults,” to which he shrugged – for the Flood had plenty, but as a demigod of Frey, he wasn’t surprised by the inclusion of a brothel. Deimos wouldn’t be going there anyway. “Accountability has never been his strong suit.”
Snagging at another rock, he flicked it once or twice along his Air magic, letting it maneuver unbidden, before tossing that one too – waiting for the inevitable. When nothing still echoed, his brows arched, but permitted other subject matters to linger. “I doubt you will have to worry about him much more anyway.”
watch your body pull itself back together then let your soul do the same
Darkeye put on his best smile. "He's a demigod. He has to take responsibility whether he wants to or not. But he only thinks about what the masquerade is. Sex drugs. and wine. One intoxication after the other. But there is more to it. He has the talent to inspire people for himself. I followed him even though so many people warned me. But I had to learn it myself. His ideas are often clever, but who he sacrifices everything for is what bothers me," he said honestly.
There lay the problem, and he looked a little more seriously in Deimos' direction. "I'm going to kill him Deimos. This is something I've been preparing for a long time. I have plans for many things. All the things I have heard about him and all the things he has done on the grounds. He has to face consequences. But for that I have to become much stronger," he said without changing his expression. A Dwarf never forgets.
ache first, but then let the cuts close spit out the blood
Considering the way Sunjata had operated before, Deimos had every reason to counteract the opinion. Perhaps in some portions, like being banned from most kingdoms, but otherwise, as far as he knew, the Flood had tucked himself away in his refuge, left to his own devices after the war. He’d lost Nate. He’d lost fragments of the Voice and that allegiance. He’d lost scores of other Ascended as they fell. What was left for him any longer? Which ties lingered, and where would his loyalties lie? “And what does he have now, besides a refuge and a brothel?” What would be the point of swaying anyone into his depths?
The Sword shook his head, because after all the circumstances, he didn’t think it was worth it in the end. He could threaten and warn, had done so, but otherwise he considered Sunjata much like half-dead prey, something batted around, then left to suffer on the sidelines. If he was surprised by Darkeye’s continued vengeance, he didn’t show it – not one to lecture much on retribution and retaliation, given what he’d done in his life. “I would not stop you.”
His eyes flickered back to the well, turning his palm over, permitting flames to ignite above his skin, before he sent it downward by Air, stopping it halfway as he peered over the edge again. “But I doubt Frey would permit one of their own to be mauled so easily.” Or maybe he was wrong and the herald wouldn’t interfere, in the way Safrin had with Ronin in the past; he could only shrug his shoulders in the uncertainty. “You would need to gain a lot more strength and power.”
watch your body pull itself back together then let your soul do the same
"His life"Answered Darkeye honestly and coldly. He knew about his losses. However, he felt that more deaths could have been avoided if he had had the courage to act. Of course, it was a murder that did not bring much honor. But he did not try to change his representation much. Did Sunjata really believe that the world would forget him?
"I know Frey wouldn't like it. But I serve Kor first and foremost. He played me and I paid dearly for it. I can't just let him get away with it. But yes, I must become much stronger. Otherwise, I don't need to try." He said as he looked over the edge of the well with Deimos. He didn't know if there was anything down there, but maybe a change of subject wouldn't be wrong.
ache first, but then let the cuts close spit out the blood
Even at Darkeye’s rebuttal, Deimos had to wonder just what kind of life Sunjata led now. If it could be called that at all – meandering, wandering, lost just as much as so many others. With Nate gone. With power lost. With only the root and ruin of his defiance shaping into people tired of his antics, appeals hard fought and withered. Maybe the Flood truly hoped for just that – a gradual decline into dust and ash, soot and debris, and despite all the antics he’d ever wrought into this world, to be merely forgotten, consigned to his own oblivion. “Do not let yourself be consumed by it.” To become nothing more than a vengeful slate was something the Sword had experienced, and it hadn’t led to much of anything.
He continued and persisted with the flame as the cleric spoke, watching as if seemed to reach perilous depths, enough to cause his brow to furrow. After thirty feet or so, his control diminished rapidly, and he could only watch as the fire and the air sanctity wilted and withered, leaving him with more enigmas. With a huff of some amusement, his attention diverted back to the other man. “Could throw him down this well.” For it didn’t seem to have an end.
watch your body pull itself back together then let your soul do the same
"I once fell to the Demon of vengeance, and all I saw was Red Deimos," he said. "I know what it is like to walk among the blood of his friends. It will never come to that again. I have an experience that most people here lack. But I don't have the full strength to use it. I have not grown so old as to be overcome by such things." He grinned broadly. It was simply the desire to bring Sunjata down for his crimes. Nero as well as Nate have already received their punishment. Nero had been the murderer of his own beloved. Nate had manipulated no less than Sunjata. His friends Maea and Amun were no longer to be seen. It was only a guess, but he thought that Nate had his fingers in the pie. There were many threats in Caido. He counted the new deity as well as Sunjata among them.
He laughed. "If it were so easy Deimos many would have tried it already. No, I want to catch him. Tie him up and take him to a place where only I can find him. Because if he dies, he'll just come back. What I do with him there I don't know. He deserves his end but he can't die. That is his problem. I can't take away something that is important to him. Because he has nothing left. Frey won't lose his belief in him. He does too many things that please her. Falling here wouldn't be good enough, I think. But if you could do it, I wouldn't mind either, as long as it gets the job done," he said frankly and without a hint of emotion. The subject of Sunjata was something that made him forget his manners.
ache first, but then let the cuts close spit out the blood
Deimos knew every intricate foundation of vengeance – how it pooled and collected, stained and marred, and still permitted himself to be led into its trenches every so often. By pettiness, by grudges, by yearning to cause another the same pain felt by so many others wronged and diminished. But he was of the mind now that Sunjata’s very listless existence was exactly what the Flood deserved. He listened to Darkeye regardless, for the cleric had been manipulated by the demigod too, and he exhaled a long, slow breath, before his eyes ceased considering the well.
No, he wouldn’t be actively seeking Sunjata to toss him into something endless and unknown, even if it was amusing at the time. The Sword had far too many others to look out for. Altering the subject, his brow arched slightly. “And what will you do in the meantime?” Preside amongst the Grounds, he presumed, but there had to be other endeavors.
watch your body pull itself back together then let your soul do the same
He took a deep breath and looked at Deimos. "I once received a book from you. About the fauna of the creatures of this world. I need to get stronger and I don't know enough about this world yet. I wander around and try to make maps of this world. I came a long way before everything went down the drain again." He said with some resentment. But he was happy about the subject of the wax.
He continued to think. "I thought we made a good team. Whether it was off the field or training or building things. I tried to do good for Caido and be a part of something. I wanted to start a craftsmen's guild, but not enough people signed up," he sighed. He had been too busy rebuilding and reassuring people. He knew by now why he wandered so much. He needed a break sometimes. "What I want to ask is what are the conditions for joining your guild? I want to understand the creatures of this world not only from a book."He said his thoughts as openly as he could. He also believed that if he worked with Deimos in his guild, he would kill two birds with one stone. The people of the grounds would see that it is possible to make peace and they would be able to have something bigger. Secondly, he would become stronger and learn a lot.
