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!
Sohalia coasted on feathered wing through the sky, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. She'd never experienced such a thrill! To jump from the top of the Leap of Faith, transform as she fell, and soar through the air, completely unscathed - well, there was simply nothing else like it. If the trek wasn't so arduous, she would turn tail and climb to the top to do it again just for the fun of it. As it were, her journey had tired her. From what she knew of the area - which was, admittedly, not much - the Mistbanks lay at the foot of the falls and could offer a reprieve for a weary traveler. All she'd have to do was navigate the fog.
And that, luckily, proved to be simple enough. She landed on the banks of the glassy lake, enjoying the spray of the falls on her face as she transformed back into a human. Long legs sprouted from talons and golden hair replaced feathers as she shifted, grew, metamorphosed, until finally she stood, a young woman at last, on the bank. She shook out her skirts and smoothed her hair, plucking a lingering white feather from the strands. As much as she enjoyed flying, it was always nice to return to her true form.
She spent the next few hours lounging in the shade of the misty forest, gazing in wonder at the trees around her. It was so similar and yet so very different from the Greatwood; they were, of course, each unique in their own way, and she was, thus far, having a very difficult time choosing a favorite. If she had to pick, she supposed, the Oerwoud would win out - it was wild, and exciting, and new, and she'd still so much left to explore!
A sound that Sohalia couldn't identify broke the stillness and she sat up straighter, looking around with an air of eagerness. A horse strode through the mist over the lake, its ears pricked in her general direction. The gentle nicker of the creature had been what she'd heard, and as it called to her again, she scrambled to her feet.
The thought of danger never crossed her mind, and the Ceffyl Dŵr continued its steady approach.
and that's the hope I have
the only thing I know that's keeping me alive
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
Word had spread to the guild of walking palms, and some swift slugs, and while Deimos was far more interested in the former, he approached the Oerwoud with both companions in tow. It’d been more than a brief sojourn, and he half-hoped it’d net some manner of results, where he could sketch the outliers, and add them to the library’s journals.
Belial had taken over clambering his way through canopies and over glens, and though they’d been working on being sneaky, quiet, and furtive, the peryton’s excitement broke hold, and more than once he could be heard sauntering over massive leaves with loud hoots. His antics alone would probably drive any flora or fauna away, meandering or otherwise.
Eventually, they wound their way to the familiar Mistbanks, along mist, fog, and the lake – permitting some measure of relief. Zuriel snorted, and before the Sword could call the carnivorous deer back over to join them, his eyes focused on the surrounding haze.
For he was certain he saw a figure, and the ripples of water nearby. Following the line of his gaze, he recognized the creature, and clenched his jaw. “Do not approach it,” he extended in a rumble, uncertain if the stranger was close enough to hear, but already dreading some notions of the outcome.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
Legends spoke of the Ceffyl Dŵr as a mist-horse that lured unwary travelers to their deaths. Sohalia, however, was unaware of any such legends, and as she righted herself, she watched in wonder as the creature drew steadily closer. It was interesting, this mist-horse, and her fingers itched for her journal.
How would she capture such a magnificent beast, its form both corporeal and shifting fog all at once?
But thoughts of drawing the Ceffyl Dŵr rapidly disappeared as it came to a stop before her, its hooves settling on the water's still surface. Sohalia took a step closer, and then another, until her skirts brushed the edge of the lake, the cloth dampening with water and mud. So wrapped up was she in the Ceffyl Dŵr that she did not hear the man's approach, nor his call of warning, and she reached out one hand hesitantly, almost as though in a trance, offering it to the mist-horse for it to sniff.
She laughed brightly as the Ceffyl Dŵr bumped her hand with its nose, surprised to find that the creature was indeed solid. Its soft nose felt remarkably like that of a normal horse (if a bit damp), and she took a step closer still. A moment passed, then two, and then the creature sank to its knees before her. Sohalia gasped; it seemed to be offering her a ride!
and that's the hope I have
the only thing I know that's keeping me alive
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
His eyes narrowed as the woman continued to do the opposite; meaning either she hadn’t heard him, or didn’t care. If it was the latter, he’d be more inclined to simply leave and permit her to fend for herself, but if it was the former…responsibility called and harked at the columns of his spine.
His jaw clenched again, as his long strides swept forward across embankments and shoreline. “Get away from it!” unfurled again, hands cupped around his voice to amplify the deep registers amidst the fog and mist. Shaking his head, and presuming he probably wouldn’t get there in time before the young woman was snagged by the watery beast, he angled his jawline towards Belial – a single, silent command.
The peryton hastened forth with absolute, ravenous glee, unfurling an obnoxious and threatening holler towards the furtive creature, making a rapid beeline, fangs extended and dark plumage aloft.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
The scene was almost magical, and Sohalia was deep in her reverie, so she didn't pause to consider her actions as the beast dropped to its knees before her. Murmuring sweet nothings to the mist-horse, she took a step closer. The water was deeper now, nearly up to her knees, but she hardly noticed its chill. Just one more step, and she'd be close enough to mount her new friend. Just one... more...
A sudden shout from afar surprised Sohalia, and she took a step back, squeaking with surprise as she whirled to face the source of the noise, tripped over her dampened skirts, and toppled into a heap in the shallow water. The mist-horse, seemingly angered by the interruption, bolted to its feet, pinned its ears at her, and hissed - a frightful noise, all anger and malice. Sohalia recoiled with a frightened cry, but she was too tangled and soaked to be able to get far, and she watched helplessly as the Ceffyl Dŵr, seemingly so gentle and kind moments before, reared above her, a demonic look in its suddenly malevolent eyes.
and that's the hope I have
the only thing I know that's keeping me alive
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
Well versed in people not listening to him until it was far too late, the Sword shook his head and unfurled another long sigh. There was no use yelling across the fog and mist now, not with the predicted alteration in the beast, or the woman instantly falling into the water. It was a scene of outright foolishness, but that didn’t mean it would end in demise and ruin. He’d seen enough of those for multiple lifetimes.
Belial bought them both some moments – carnivorous and rapacious, intentionally distracting as Deimos unfurled long strides across the shoreline. The peryton flew at the horse’s features, fangs snatching, biting, toying with ears or muzzle, intending to be an absolute nuisance until his keeper could get into range –
And as soon as Deimos closed in on thirty feet, he unleashed the potency of his Mastered Water – mind whipping and ensuring the coil of incantations reached a fervent pitch. The pool beneath the horse shifted it back instantly; until one could see its confusion through the stark malevolence. Thereafter, the wave holding its form moved backwards, away from the fallen stranger, dragging the creature with it.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
Later, Sohalia would look back ruefully on this moment as one that should never have happened. What kind of idiot trusted a horse made of water, much less tried to mount it? As it was, in the moment, she could only think of trying to get away from its flying hooves. Her hands scrabbled for purchase in the water, her feet flailing in the shallows to push herself back and away from the beast.
Sohalia resigned herself to the fact that this was it - this was how she was going to die. She was far too young, and far too unprepared, but that was that. It was now beyond her control.
But then a different creature bounded between the mist-horse and the young woman. The water beneath her moved, dragging the Ceffyl Dŵr away from Sohalia and distracting it long enough for her to scramble ungracefully to her feet. Completely disoriented, she took a few stumbling steps backwards, away from the water and the fight that was now taking place there.
and that's the hope I have
the only thing I know that's keeping me alive
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
Instincts told him to decimate, eradicate, obliterate. It’d be easy – a twist and turn of incantations, a seeking of life draining capabilities, and the creature wouldn’t attack again. Could’ve given chase, sought out the angles of murky abyss and mauled, broke apart, savaged. Then the equine would falter and flicker down below the depths, to sink and become part of the churning scavengers below the brink of mist and fog. Would keen and wail and then nothing. He’d seen it all, time and time before.
But there were other matters at hand, and for once, he didn’t feel like punishing the predator for doing exactly as it was made to do – maybe they were all tangled in those woven strands of nature and adversity. So instead of persecuting the beast until it could do naught more than wither and die, the edges of his magic persisted, keeping it held away, while Belial harassed with fangs and wings.
Eventually, it took the hint; diving below, leaving behind only scarce bubbles on the surface, and some inspiring abhorrence. The Sword snorted, half-irritated, half-relieved, shaking his head as the peryton came gliding back over the range of haze, and Zuriel’s hooves could be heard, echoing from behind them.
Only then did he turn his attention to the potential victim of circumstances and ignorance, arching his brow, the distinct rumble filtering through as his gaze ran over her in brief examination. He knew better than most though; a lack of blood didn’t assure a lack of damage. “You all right?”
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
Sohalia had never seen a peryton before, and for this to be her first encounter with such a creature left her, if anything, more terrified. She certainly hadn't planned to get mixed up in a monster brawl when she got out of bed this morning! But at least the peryton seemed to be defending her as its master held the Ceffyl Dŵr at bay. Eventually, hissing and snorting, the beast disappeared beneath the water, leaving Sohalia to stand staring at the water, her chest heaving with exertion and fear. What would have happened had she been truly alone in the Mistbanks?
A voice brought her mind back to reality. Soh looked up to find a man looking her over. He was older than her, and far taller, with a muscular physique. She, on the other hand, was a petite, delicate, soaking wet young woman, and she felt incredibly embarrassed to have not only been caught trying to make friends with a monster, but to also be in such disarray. She crossed her arms over her chest as though she could shield herself from the stranger's scrutiny.
At his question, she took a deep breath. She was relieved to find that she didn't seem to have any lasting injuries - aside from her wounded pride. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, she felt only a bone-deep exhaustion. "I-I think so," she stammered. "Thank you for saving me. What was that thing?"
and that's the hope I have
the only thing I know that's keeping me alive
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
Breaking the otherwise stoic features, the Warden shook his head, waiting for Zuriel to approach his side, and snagging at the packs notched along her saddle. Pulling a towel from its depths, he tossed it over to the woman, before casting his gaze towards the intermittent range of mist and fog, waiting for Belial to approach. And probably giving her a moment of privacy, to collect herself in the shambles of chaotic events – for that was the thing with Caido and trauma in tandem units – the world seemed to think one simply moved on.
And they did, in a way, with every passing breath some substantial hold on survival.
As the peryton soared in and landed with a raucous hoot, the Sword rolled his eyes, but supplied the carnivorous deer with a bounty of snacks and pats for his predacious efforts, before turning his attention back to inquiries and statements. “You are welcome.” Crouching towards his other companion, and inspecting for any wounds, the answer to the question came along simple and succinct. “A Ceffyl Dŵr. They are known for enticing people to ride them, and then drop the unsuspecting individuals to their death.”
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
The young woman flinched as the stranger tossed her a towel, but somehow managed to snag it from the air with only a small portion of the fabric swinging to hit the ground. She used the towel to squeeze the water from her hair, then wrapped it around her shoulders and began wringing out as much of her dress as she could reach. There was little that the man's towel was going to do for her clothes, unfortunately, but she appreciated the gesture all the same.
Sohalia shuddered at the stranger's description of the creature that had nearly tried to kill her. "I didn't realize that such beasts roamed the mists," she admitted, flushing red with embarrassment. She should have done more research before coming to the Wilds, or at least known to use her common sense. "Thank you again," she said with feeling. "I will be more careful from now on."
She studied the man from beneath her lashes as she finished wringing out her dress. It was still damp, but as dry as she could make it under the present circumstances. The stranger inspected a winged deer - the creature that had defended her from the Ceffyl Dŵr - as a unicorn looked on. She'd never met anyone with two companions before, and her interest was clear on her pretty face now that the danger had passed. "I'm Sohalia, by the way," she said. "Sohalia Lumaris."
and that's the hope I have
the only thing I know that's keeping me alive
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
His brow remained firmly arched – mostly inwardly befuddled at some measure of naivete from the stranger. Perhaps she’d been sheltered in the past few years, for all Deimos had known were lethal, treacherous, and minacious beasts – but maybe that spoke more of his experiences (and penchant for) in precarious and perilous situations. “There are many dangerous animals around,” and he was half-tempted to start rattling some off, but wondered if that would be too much on notions of misadventures today.
Finding nothing amiss with Belial, he might’ve simply departed, gone back the way he came, but then the youth seemed intent on introductions. Rising back from his slight crouch, he nodded, adding the name to a list of distinctions and newfound individuals. “I am Deimos.” Then, because he figured it would be some measure of justification, he pointed towards his carnivorous deer. “Belial,” and then jabbed his thumb towards the unicorn. “Zuriel.” A pause within other considerations earned another shrug of shoulders. "She can heal you if you need it." She'd said she was fine earlier, but sometimes there were instances later in which the opposite was also true.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
There are many dangerous animals around, said the stranger, and Sohalia blushed more deeply. She glanced at the trees surrounding them apprehensively, as though something might jump out at her from the depths. She felt young and silly, and very fortunate, for her travels thus far had not yielded such excitement as this.
The stranger unfurled himself from his crouch. Sohalia was again struck by how much larger he was than she, and how very grateful she was that he'd come along when he did. She committed the three names to memory. "May I thank Belial for the help?" she asked shyly; now that she had calmed from her ordeal, she wished only to be polite to her other savior. Not that she had much to offer except a pat of thanks and a kind word, but... well, she tried.
"I'm - I'm okay, I think," Sohalia added, declining the offer of healing. "But thank you - and Zuriel." Having dried as much of herself as she could, she pulled the towel from around her neck and wrung out the excess water, then folded it neatly and offered it back to the man. "Or - I can hold onto it until it's dried," she offered, eager to be of some service to Deimos in return for his help. "Where are you from? I'll be sure it gets back to you."
and that's the hope I have
the only thing I know that's keeping me alive
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
If a creature was bold enough to jump out with him around, Deimos would probably welcome the opportunity to maul something – but when it remained still and silent, he simply arched his brow at the youth again. They were all impetuous and good-natured at some point in time; growing more jaundiced and bitter through life experiences. He wouldn’t deign to lead her down some path of ruin already. Caido often did enough damage on its own.
Acknowledgments for Belial, however, would be better received. He nodded, and the peryton launched forward. “I will warn you, he is very obnoxious,” came along a deep rumble, for the deer was already hooting loudly, whirling around her legs in a tight circle, wings unfurled, clearly waiting for some manner of gratitude.
The unicorn snorted, leaving the nature of whether she’d wanted to assist up in the air, before the Sword watched Sohalia fumble around with the towel – not figuring on it being an awkward subject. “I can dry it,” he offered, taking the object, and immediately snaking out the excess water with his elemental adornments; the particles evaporating before their eyes. “But I live in Halo. Yourself?”
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
