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Character of the Season
Once known as the Butcher of Whitebrim, he's now The Butcher of Dygra, stepping forward as the first created demigod of the Ancients. There is no question that Astaroth casts an intimidating silhouette. Tall, domineering and dangerous, if looks could kill you'd be dead already, but to get up close and personal with the Grounds' resident cannibal tells a much different story. Dripping with charm and clad in only the finest attire, Asta is a gentleman monster, as polite as they come and committed to his role as security for the Dusklight and those who have earned his loyalty. Be careful of that smile, though - those teeth are sharp.
Congratulations, Asta!
Credits
Court of the Fallen was created in October of 2018 by Odd, Honey, and Crooked.
OG Skinning provided by Kaons, with functionality and many custom plugins made by Neowulf!
Eating fire is your ambition to swallow the flame down
Melita let out a long, long sigh as she crouched down to pick up another bottle, remainders and reminders of LongNight’s bonfire and dolphin escapades, which seemed like lifetimes ago now. Of course, it wasn’t so much the notion of grabbing at the empty refuse, so much as the culmination of events spiraling around her lately. “So, I did talk to Safrin. If it weren’t for Ronin, I’d probably be cursed,” she offered haphazardly to Flora, talking with her hands, mind already conjuring a gift basket full of alcohol for the White Knight and some other goodies tucked within. “But she said Ludo’s probably in the jungle. I’ll send another letter out to all the leaders again, but I wanted to tell you first.”
Dusting her palms together, she narrowed her eyes, glancing over the horizon and the sea, tucking a shudder from the cooler breeze into her garments, trying to remember everything else. “Something about the DreamWalker too. Do you remember anything about that?” It’d been years ago, and those involved gone or slain.
to be lit up from within, vein by vein to be the sun
your touch brought forth an incandescent glow, tarnished but so grand
Flora reaches for a bottle at nearly the same moment Melita does, fingers closing around its salt-fogged neck before she straightens and tosses it onto the plastic sled dragging behind her through the sand. It lands among the others with a hollow clatter, jostling the collection Spice has been loosely contributing to whenever the little dragon happens to notice something shiny beneath the driftwood. Glancing toward Mel, Flora’s brows rise before her expression folds into a comical wince, one shoulder creeping toward her ear.
"Yeaaaah, you’ve gotta be... uh, tactful when you’re talking to her." The word comes carefully, like there are several sharper and considerably less diplomatic alternatives pressing against the back of Flora’s teeth. She lets them stay there, nudging the sled forward with her heel instead before Melita’s next piece of information catches properly. "The jungle?" she repeats, head tilting. Still, the fact that Melita has come to her first warms something beneath Flora’s ribs, and her expression softens into a quick, genuine smile. She nods, humming a quiet, thanks," under her breath before bending to retrieve another bottle from where it has settled crookedly in the sand.
The question about the DreamWalker stops her halfway upright. Flora remains there with one hand braced against her thigh, closing one eye as though cutting her available vision in half might somehow leave more room for remembering. "Uhhh, I remember Hadama saying something about it?" Her lips purse while she searches backward through years of conversations, rumours, and crises that had all seemed terribly important until the next one arrived. "This god thing they all killed in the jungle?"
Her brows lift as the memory finally finds her, dawning bright enough to pull her fully upright. "Oh! Actually, I totally have its antlers in my dining room." Flora gives a small shrug, as though keeping the remains of a dead jungle god beside the table is only marginally stranger than one of Mateo's vases of deadly flowers. "I bought them from the Merchant’s Guild and always meant to do something with them."
Eating fire is your ambition to swallow the flame down
Fangorn hustled ahead, snagging at other garbage and cramming it into his mouth when Melita wasn’t looking. Sila hooted for Spice, perhaps to play amongst the cooler air and not amidst driftwood. At Flora’s advice though, Melita let out a long breath through puffed cheeks, as anyone who’d ever met her would know that tact wasn’t one of her characteristics. “I noticed…after I put my foot in my mouth a couple times.” And when Ronin was busy trying to diminish the flames she’d started. “I always avoided her because of my uncle, so,” letting that notion amble around, she picked at another bottle, this one defined by jagged edges and broken bits, placing it with considerable more care than previous intervals.
At the question, she nodded, nose wrinkling, wondering if they’d been in the midst of it and simply hadn’t noticed. “Yeah. I think it has something to do with all that weird dream shit we had. Maybe the thing in the dream was the DreamWalker. Or another variant.” Given that it’d supposedly been slain. She wouldn’t be surprised if things came rising from the dead though; plenty of others, herself and Flora included, had done so with Ronin’s influence. “I don’t think anyone else involved with it is around anymore though,” so the questions would die and fade, unless Hadama had given her explicit information surrounding the thing.
She perked up at Flora’s addition though, eyes widening and hands pausing long enough for her to take in the full pledge of information. “Oh! Safrin had mentioned that too. Said they might be useful if we wanted to go digging through nightmares.” That it’d been décor in Flora’s house all along made her laugh though, shaking her head at important artifacts just rendered around a home. “I think after I talk to Mort again, maybe I’ll do just that.” Depending, perhaps, on what the Big God advised, or…the usual Melita flair of bounding in with boldness and determination, but not much else.
to be lit up from within, vein by vein to be the sun
