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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!
Rather than bristle beneath the list of everything she hadn’t thought to do, Flora merely nods. Each suggestion only reinforces the point she’d been trying to make from the start: Jack is the one man in Torchline who understands how to bring the undercity back beneath someone’s thumb without pretending it can be managed like an ordinary problem. Briefly, the memory of asking Ronin whether it was worth trying to convince Jack to return flashes through her thoughts, but she swallows it down before it can linger and gives another small nod instead.
She’d had enough time to come to terms with being replaced in Jack’s life by a formerly inanimate object that hearing about The Ark doesn’t hurt quite the way she’d expected. Perhaps it would if he spoke of her with uncomplicated affection rather than sharpening each mention into something meant to cut Flora, but this she can bear with only a stiff inclination of her head. The hypocrisy of resenting and being hurt by any of it isn’t lost on her; she has a husband waiting at home, after all.
"That’s the thought," Flora agrees, returning her attention to the problem of the ghost ship. "Remi can do something similar as a wraith, but he’s still visible when he does it." Her brows draw together faintly. Whatever magic is at work, it doesn’t seem as simple as becoming incorporeal or invisible and calling the matter solved. For a ship and its entire crew to pass unseen and untouched through solid obstacles suggests something layered, and likely far more troublesome than any one ability they already understand.
Unsurprised that Jack would rather leave breadcrumbs with the Blackfox for Flora to collect than endure another conversation with her, she exhales and nods. "There’s a new cannon in the port. Takes two people to operate and shoots ridiculously far." He’s probably already heard, but it had been on her list, and she has to catch the inside of her cheek between her teeth to keep a smile from surfacing at the memory of firing it directly at Vi.
"We’re also putting in a portal between here and the Grounds," she adds. "It won’t be large enough for cargo, though." Her thoughts supply the obvious limitation: The Ark wouldn’t fit through either. Flora gives a loose shrug, leaving the possibility of something larger hanging unspoken between them, perhaps available someday if Jack ever decides dealing with her is worth more than making every interaction as difficult as possible.
How can a person know everything at 18 but nothing at 22? Will you still want me when I'm nothing new?
Luckily for Flora, they really have waded into proper business territory now, so the urge to needle her at the fleeting thought of his being asked to return - not to mention her determination not to feel inadequate by hearing about his ship - is discarded in lieu of the information she has on the ghost ship, the missing caches and the other investigations that have been done thus far. He hums under his breath as she continues, reaching out to stub out his cigarette in the tray.
"Maybe a few items as well. Might be a combination of different talents, too - you're lookin' for one culprit when the crew is all of 'em." An Accepted to channel, an Abandoned to cast, a multitude of magics and magical items brewing in tandem. "The real question is how they came up with it all without bein' noticed." That kind of gathering of power creates rumours long before they coalesce into a ghost ship.
Then again, if Jack had been around to hear them while they were happening, maybe he'd have crushed this before it became a problem.
"Noted," he says of both cannon and portal, a smile kicking up the corner of his mouth. "Information is the best cargo, an' it takes very little room," he says. Besides which, he prefers the long way around when it comes to travelling. "I don't need your resources," he continues, in case something has gotten muddled in the latest parts of their conversation. "But if that changes, how's your Thieves' Cant these days? Or shall I leave messages at the guildhall?"
He doubts her beau will appreciate seeing his fair hand arrive as a letter on the doorstep of The Wildering House, put it that way.
it's not your fault that you're always wrong the weak ones are there to justify the strong
"I was going to ask Deimos whether there’ve been any unusual treks in or out of the Fangs lately." Flora catches the inside of her cheek between her teeth, her thoughts turning briefly towards mageglass and all the unpleasant possibilities a supply of it might explain. When she looks back to Jack, there’s no challenge in her expression this time, only a genuine request for the insight he’s always been infuriatingly good at providing. "Remi’s been cracking down on pirate ships. With less competition on the water, do you think..?" Her brows lift as she lets the question trail off, wondering whether they’d cleared space for something worse while trying to solve an entirely different problem.
She stiffens when he insists he doesn’t need her resources, bracing for the conversation to swing back towards another inventive way of telling her to fuck off. Instead, he leaves the door open by the smallest possible degree, and Flora can’t quite hide the breath of relief that slips from her, gilding the guarded gardens of her thoughts despite every effort to keep them bare.
"It's still passable," she answers, though her mouth pulls into a faint frown. "There’s more of it down there lately that I don’t recognize." Whatever new hands have been marking the undercity, they’ve added dialects and symbols Jack never taught her, but she still remembers everything he did. If he limits himself to those, she doubts either of them will have much trouble understanding the other.
How can a person know everything at 18 but nothing at 22? Will you still want me when I'm nothing new?
"Better off askin' the Maverick if there are more people'n usual comin' through that bonfire of his," Jack mutters off-handedly. "If people are tryin' to smuggle mageglass they'd wanna take the quickest route away from Halo, I'd reckon." Whilst The Crag might border Caido's coldest region, it's probably just as quick to cut across to The Climb and the existing portal there; Halo isn't exactly known for its tolerance for crooked behaviour, after all.
As for the matter of pirate ships and the possibility of something worse taking their place, Jack can only give a shrug. "I ain't gonna say it's not possible, but if anythin' there should be a rise in shit like robberies on land, secret trade routes through the Oerwoud, shit like that." Pirates don't disappear when chased away from their ships, they just start pirating on the shorelines, in his experience. "But I guess if this is somethin' even your hulk of a father can't track down, might be that a few of the worst have banded together over it."
And now they're cutting out the Blackfox too, which is probably the most dangerous idea of all.
Her Thieves' Cant being passable is good enough for Jack, the Captain scoffing at the reminder of the new chicken scratchings in the Fingers. "Bastardised versions of it," he says. "I'll tighten it back up." And in the meantime, look at that - an open line of communication.
it's not your fault that you're always wrong the weak ones are there to justify the strong
Flora nods slowly. "If he has, that'll narrow things down." Her thoughts begin sorting through the possibilities almost immediately. Ancients are unlikely to be wandering Halo-adjacent waters under ordinary circumstances, which leaves an Abandoned with fire magic capable of using the bonfire. There are still plenty of those, certainly, but it’s a much smaller pool than anyone who might have crossed Halo’s borders by conventional means. "...Anyone else you think I should ask?"
She hums her agreement as Jack considers what displaced pirates might turn to instead, relieved that he doesn’t immediately lay the consequences at her feet. At the mention of the Oerwoud, her brows rise. "Yeah, and whatever the fuck is going on in there as well," she mutters, her thoughts flickering briefly towards bags of sand and the pair of glowing antlers still occupying her dining room. "Remi and Ronin patrol often, and they’ve never found anything." Whether that makes the rumours less credible or only adds another layer to whatever is happening, Flora can’t decide. She gives a small shrug and glances at Jack, both of them aware that neither the Bastion nor the Knight is especially suited to tracking ships.
His easy assurance that he’ll straighten out the Cant in the Fingers softens the guarded thickets of Flora’s thoughts before she can stop it. There’s something reassuring in the casual certainty of it, though she doesn’t thank him, unwilling to make it seem as though any of this is being done for her, but she inclines her head in quiet appreciation all the same.
How can a person know everything at 18 but nothing at 22? Will you still want me when I'm nothing new?
