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!
Eyebrows raising at the efficiency of Deimos's magic, Fox is left holding the rake for show more than anything, and he happily moves inside at Noah's suggestion. Oblivious to the other conversation happening - unable to hear the Attuned bond as he is - the hunter merely gets to work. "I can take the door," he says, heading over to the structure that had been giving the Forsaken so much trouble.
He finds some oil and a chisel and a couple of other tools, hoping to clear the rust from the hinges - and tighten them up - as well as shaving down some parts of the door that seem to be catching. If the latch needs any work, too, Fox will do what he can to help.
Fox fixes the door!
fox
i'm a pagan of the good times
Horns: Small, bone-like protrusions (aka your stereotypical devil horns) that are easy to miss in his hair.
Deimos was once again a master of his own magic. From nothing, the Sword was able to create a massive and beautiful table. The lets were strong and the wood sturdy enough for even the most heated of debates and plans and conversations to be had around it. As always, the Forsaken was impressed with his friend's abilities.
Fox, with the necessary materials, would find his work on the door to go rather smoothly. He was able to adjust it on its hinges so it worked properly, swinging inwards to the great room. He reset the latching system and, as the final touch, sanded and shaved down a stubborn corner of the door where it had bowed and warped slightly and caught the ground (the reason Noah had trouble opening it, paired with the rust).
Having already planned for the window replacement, Noah had gathered the necessary materials. As the other two men went to work, the Forsaken set out his task of the windows. He took down the panes of broken glass and threw them in a bin for rubbish. He wondered as he threw one in if he could take them to glassmaker that worked on the new windows and he could use the old glass. Worth a shot, anyway. He pulled out old nails and then, finally, placed in the new windows. It was a little precarious with the way the wind and rain were working against him, raging inside the building, but with a determined effort Noah finally got everything set.
"Let's just clean up this room and I think we've got this place back into a working order again." He said, then helped his friends shoulder to shoulder clean up the puddles of water, the leaves and branches, and all other manner of debris that came in from the broken windows.
Last round, clean up this room!
Am I a prisoner to instincts or do my thoughts just live as free
And detached as boats to the dock?
Stepping back from his work on the door and testing it a few times for good measure, Fox nods to himself and considers the job an adequate one. Glancing around at the sound of Noah's voice and smiling to see the room no longer so bare to the elements - and a very beautiful table to complete the picture - he nods eagerly.
"I'll sweep up - I can use the leaves as kindling to get a fire going in here as well," he says. Grabbing the broom from his previous endeavours, he works to sweep away much of the debris out through the newly functional door, gathering up any useful fuel once he's happy with the state of the stone slabs. This and a bit of firewood are hustled into the empty fireplace behind the table.
A few sparks of flint and some wobbly fire manipulation later, and there's a small fire crackling merrily away.
Fox sweeps and gets a fire going!
fox
i'm a pagan of the good times
Horns: Small, bone-like protrusions (aka your stereotypical devil horns) that are easy to miss in his hair.
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
Pleased and content with the work, he managed one grin and patted the table. “I can make you maps later, if you want,” he offered to the Forsaken, figuring an update was an order from any old, remaining ones anyway, what with the transformations to the land after the war.
With the door and windows taken care of, he surveyed the rest of the facility, missing his own barracks back in Halo and pondering over the state of the ones he’d once created. They’d be left to the Grounds again and again, but hopefully somehow, someway, keep up their strength and rigor.
With Fox dusting and tending to the fire, the Sword set about dusting with a nearby rag, removing the filaments from shelving, doorframes, and any other setting, ensuring it was hastened outward as well by careful and meticulous notions of his Air magic.
--
Deimos dusts!
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
When the windows were done and the table was done and the door was done, and all that was left was to clean, Noah let out a great sigh. He was relieved to have one step finished for his quest. Through all the hard work, Noah had learned a lot. Mostly about himself. He was learning how to let go of himself and give in totally to the will of his deity.
Noah spent his time cleaning and mopping up where the water had come in while the other men cleaned their sections.
Glacier eyes shifted to Fox. "Good idea"! Noah called out to Fox across the room as he worked on mopping up all the water that had come in. He turned then to Deimos and his table. "Danta mentioned something about commissioning Sohalia to draw updated maps since the landscape has changed so much since the war, so I think that would definitely be something that would be useful." He offered his friend a nod.
"Thank you both for your help."
fin
Am I a prisoner to instincts or do my thoughts just live as free
And detached as boats to the dock?
