Once known as the Butcher of Whitebrim, 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 new role as security for the Dusklight. 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.
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!
Liberation from the clustered and suffocating proportions of the meeting left him wandering immediately thereafter – not ready to return to multitudes, to balls, to more political reaching and portions he couldn’t escape. Knowing Evie and Erebos were safe was enough to send him outward, but more than a few times he took long, slow, lingering breaths, staring out over the expanse over a world he once knew into something arched and changed, and even then, the web of memories spilled over the surface.
Some scorchmarks still on the plains, some new intricacies built from a labored ground. He maneuvered without much purpose, long strides sweeping over places where they’d screamed for justice or tried to be heroic intervals, straining against the pull of LongNight. The puffs of warm air pulled from his lungs and he desperately wanted to be home, in Halo, with his family, rather than tracing over foundations of a life they’d left behind.
Still giving himself time, he leaned against a stone wall, reaching for its grounding purposes while the restless ends of his frame worked on not disappearing into the ether. Difficult to do for someone of his renown and size, but the shadows slipped around, comforting, and his hands concocted and created as if they had nothing better to do. Maybe it was a slip of his mind, a way to remember Safrin’s words to him, a meaning of lures and bait, as pieces that looked like gold filled his palms, and he unfurled them with Air magic, letting the snares ripple across the wake of the cobblestones, dirt, and snow.
you're all bronze and bite all venom and fistfight
As Thal left the ball, the alcohol lingered on her breath, giving her mind a comfortable haze, not quite cloudy but dulled. Her breath fogged before her, the chilly air helping to keep her mind sharp despite its fuzzy edges. Each clip of her heels rang across the neighborhood's walls as she made her way amongst the houses. After the festivities of the night, it was like a mallet to her brain, causing her to rip the shoes from her feet. Even the long train of her gown became cumbersome, catching on the snowy cobblestones and restricting the quick movement of her legs. In less than a block, she found herself attempting to bustle it. Her cold, fumbling fingers had a difficult time finding the buttons and she had let out a few choice words before the process was done.
By the time she was blocks from the Temple, her pristine appearance had been dismantled entirely. Her dark hair hung wildly behind her, the silver strings staying attached by a pure miracle. The haphazard state of her black velvet dress matched the uncaring way her shoes dangled from her fingers. Yet Thal embraced the Deepfrost breeze caressing her bare shoulders and the peaceful night acting as a gentle companion to her lonely heart. It was at that moment that she realized she had left her cloak with the attendant at the ball. With a deep sigh, she slowed her pace, preparing to turn back. However, a sparkle on the street caught her attention, glinting in the silvery moonlight. Her curiosity piqued, Thal approached slowly to investigate.
Glittering specs of gold littered the stones, strewn about without reason. Did someone drop them? Perhaps a drunk guest lost their valuables while stumbling home? Whatever the reason, why hadn't someone else found them first? Glittering gold pieces aren't exactly common in this area. She came to a stop, looking around suspiciously. Something didn't sit right with her.
Thal pressed her body into a nearby house wall, straining her eyes against the shadowed recesses of the surrounding buildings. Bushes and snow drifts seemed to transform into menacing figures, but she forced her sluggish mind to clear with a few quick intakes of icy air. After a few more moments, her eyes caught on something that looked a little more 'human'-like. Although she couldn't be certain, it seemed close enough to act on.
Taking one of the black heels in her hand, she threw it down a nearby alley, hoping to distract whoever may be watching long enough for her to make away with the gold. When Thal heard the thudding crash of her footwear, she sped out with quick, silent feet. Scooping up the gold flecks in the palm of her other hand, she pulled herself onto the snowy roof of a nearby house, making sure her footprints vanished on the street and left no evidence of her presence. The inky black fabric of her dress flowed behind her as she crept across the roof towards the street over.
Had he not been full of coiled energy and restlessness, he might have laughed at the scene. He didn’t recognize the Ancient, but the scene before him was amusing nonetheless; shoes thrown and tossed as a distraction, while she pilfered and plucked the gold right out of the street.
Not even bothering to move, remaining still, stoic, and silent, he figured this would be a proper test of recall – and only permitted the extension of his Mastered Air to follow the woman. He called at the incantations to pull and tug, to sharpen and hasten, to grasp and snag, at the materials she’d snatched, along rooftops and over streets – eventually marching his way through the unwinding haze too, strides steady, unbothered, and leisurely.
you're all bronze and bite all venom and fistfight
As she slinked across the rooftop, a strange sensation emanated from the gold pieces. It was as if they were trying to escape through her fingers, pulling and tugging. It made her all the more certain that it had been a trap of sorts. However, once she had a treaure in her possession, it was difficult to take it back.
Luckily, her cloak had a hidden pocket sewn into the lining for just these kinds of situations - if only she had her cloak. Regretting her mistake all the more, Thal looked to her outfit with a scrutinous gaze. There weren't any convenient pockets or sneaky compartments. It only had a tight corset and a thigh sheath for her lone dagger peaking out from the high slit. She silently cursed herself once again before settling on her last option. Peeling open the front of her dress, Thal dropped the gold pieces into the boned corset. The feeling of the jagged pieces were cold against her bare skin, warming quickly with her body heat.
Now that that problem was solved, she glanced at the surrounding streets and houses. Apparently her distraction hadn't worked, as a lone figure followed leisurely down an adjacent walkway. If they were trying to get the gold back, she wasn't about to make it easy for them. Her mind may be dulled and her feet may be turning blue, but she was nothing if not stubborn.
Hiking up her gown further, she began to sprint along the rooftops, her numb feet making it easy to ignore the rough roofing tiles and snow piles. Whenever there was a gap, she jumped nimbly over, her hair flapping in the wind. It almost made her want to laugh with excited glee, feeling the wind whip her face and knowing someone was on her tail. It was like a game and it gave her a thrill that brought a long-missed glint to her sparkling blue eyes.
With the Hollowed Grounds’ alterations in landscape, some of the animals have grown a bit wilder. A bit bolder.
So while it may surprise some, and others not at all, a crow swoops down, snatching at clothing and bags with sharp, irritating, and annoying talons. Maybe you just lost a piece of bread, or a valuable keepsake!
Oh, he wasn’t going to make it easy for her either.
It’d been a long time since he hunted another person. Perhaps not since some other event in Helovia, stalking through the shadows, glimpsing through eaves, and silently waiting for the right opportunity to strike. Most had been out of malicious and vicious protection – this one was out of amusement and quest notions at the end of the day, but he had far more tools at his disposal than his days of reaping.
So he followed, still unbothered and apathetic and trying not to laugh as she ventured across rooftops, his long strides continuing amidst the cool, dry world and the primordial wake of the Grounds unraveling under his feet – and he would’ve instigated something else had a crow not cackled its way into the scene. Were he paying more attention to the flying beast he might’ve noticed it’s familiarity – instead he was rapt with notions as it attempted to take her shoe, granting him another opportunity.
For while the crow tugged, Deimos initiated the same – snagging at the gold again with his Mastered Air, and simultaneously altering the snow upon the roof into ice; hoping for a plunging fall or a struggling wake.
you're all bronze and bite all venom and fistfight
On one particular leap, she was rudely assaulted by what appeared to be a large crow. The sharp beak came stabbing at her relentlessly, trying to grab the strap of her remaining heel. In the ensuing chaos, she landed without an ounce of grace on the next roof. Although still on her feet, she spread her arms to maintain balance and let out a frustrated growl. Shooting the crow a death glare, she attempted to fend off the assailant with flailing limbs and feral hisses, but apparently the shiny clasp of the shoe was too tempting for her actions to frighten it away.
When it finally clamped its beak around the black strap, the hard flap of its wings pulled fiercely, offsetting her center of gravith. Surprisingly, an accompanying tug came from the corset of her gown, strong enough to lift her feet briefly from the ground. A startled yelp burst from her lungs and she released the shoe in her shock, hoping to keep her feet planted firmly on the rooftop. Much to her disappointment, that proved more difficult than planned as the snow shifted to ice beneath her feet.
"What the -" The momentum of her body cut the words short, smacking her rear harshly against the solid frozen tiles. Thal quickly stifled her groan when she realized the downward tilt trying to plummet her to the ground. Each second sped her towards the unforgiving cobblestones and whoever had set the unfortunate trap. Not really wanting to encounter either, she twisted her body to unsheath her hidden dagger and stabbed it into the ice rushing past her face. It scraped loudly, slowing her descent, but not quite enough. By the time Thal came to a stop, she was dangling unlady-like off the roof. Her legs and torso hung mid-air, only sustained by her tight grasp on the dagger's hilt.
He watched and waited, mostly amused at the resounding image of scrambling feet, irritated birds, and the rough-hewned edges of a dagger saving the thief from an impending fall. He remained in the shadows, contemplating the next round of efforts – were he currently a part of Helovia once more, he would’ve left her there to fend for herself. Consequences of her actions, life-long lessons forged from pain, injuries, and avarice. However, the Sword knew fully well he’d set the bait, and so extended some multitude of ambivalent grace for the ridiculous antics.
So if the pile of snow below increased significantly under the wake of his incantations, then so be it – she’d have something to break a fall.
However, this didn’t cease him from pulling and tugging at the Air formations again, concentrating and honing in on the flecks and pieces of gold; rampant and insistent, commanding and controlling.
you're all bronze and bite all venom and fistfight
Although the crow no longer bothered her, Thal had bigger problems at hand. Her body hung in the air, only supported by her iron grip on the dagger's hilt, and the tugging within her corset continued incessantly, making her sway precariously. Clenching her teeth, she used the momentum to swing her other arm onto the ledge of the roof. The first attempt was useless, her hand sliding against the ice, scraping her palm like shards of glass. Small droplets of blood dripped down her forearm, nearly black in the moonlight.
Not to be discouraged, she tried again, succeeding in grabbing purchase on a tile's edge. With another swing, she had her elbow over. It wasn't a firm grasp, but it was better than before and she began to muscle her body up. Her breathing came quick with the effort, fogging the air in front of her. Another pull had her torso peaking over the top. Just a little more... *snap*. She barely registered the sound of her dagger dislodging before she slid from the roof into thin air. There was no stopping her fall at that point, the snow beneath rushing to meet her like a cushioned mattress. Although mattresses didn't tend to cover her head in a puff of cold, wet snowflakes.
The continued tugging at her chest was a reminder of her audience. Thal hoped the spectator wasn't laughing too loud at her blunder. Luckily, the low temperature made it easy to disguise the blush rising to her cheeks as she scrambled from the surprisingly large snowdrift. Her gown was caked with clumps of snow, her damp hair framing her red, running nose. She was beginning to shake and her hand was bleeding onto the pristine white snow. If she didn't lose the tail now, she may just freeze out here.
Hiking up her stiff dress, she planned to vanish into the dark alleyways - only to be stopped short by the gold pieces in her corset. She tried to push past the pulling air, straining her legs against the cobblestones. It was nearly useless with her short stature, taking tremendous time and effort to move a single stuttered step. Frustrated, she turned to growl at the figure lurking in the shadows. "Traps are for cowards. At least come out and face me."
He did laugh, an inward snort rambling through his chest at the ridiculous sight. And then a quiet, muted sigh thereafter, regarding the entire scene with an air of indifference. Even her growl bore him no ire, save for some amusement, a twitch of a grin at the corner of his mouth; likely irate because she’d been caught multiple times. “Traps are for the cunning,” he quipped in return, shrugging his shoulders. “Besides, I have been here the whole time.” She’d been easy to track and dismiss, with the less than furtive steps and vague attempts at subterfuge.
Then, without moving a muscle, he called the Air incantations back again, winding and unfurling over the restless ebbs and flows from meetings, gatherings, and death threats, and simply calling the gold flecks back to himself, just as he’d done in multitudes before.
you're all bronze and bite all venom and fistfight
The dismissive tone that drifted from the shadows rubbed her emotions all the wrong ways, making her narrow her blue eyes to dangerous slits. So what if her attempts at distraction and discretion had been foiled? It wasn't like she was so ignorant that she didn't notice the man or at least try to lose him. She blamed her failure on the alcohol.
Rolling her eyes in vicious annoyance, she snapped back, "'Cunning' implies outsmarting an enemy. Toying with innocent bystanders isn't 'cunning,' it's cruel." Perhaps if the cruelty had been her own, she wouldn't be as frustrated. In response to his presence, she crossed her arms defensively, looking like a tantrum-ing child in comparison to the man's giant height. "I know."
All of a sudden, her feet were floating off the ground again. This time it was more chaotic, spinning her around and raising her higher. She cursed under her breath, her arms flying out to try and steady the movements, but she was in the air with no way to control the direction. Her dark hair snapped around in the wind along with the crunchy fabric of her dress. The whirling chaos overwhelmed the tearing sound of fabric. She could, however, feel the loosening of her corset against her chest. Holding her arms tight to her bodice only served to spin her faster. Thal may have an iron stomach when handling rocky waters, but spinning was a different story and her creeping nausea caused her to throw her arms back out instinctually. Another second of being thrown around like a ragdoll finally pushed the lace past its limits, ripping it open to release the gold flecks within.
Without any semblance of elegance or grace, she was dropped to the ground in a heap of black velvet and torn lace. Assessing her corset, she saw that a gaping hole sat just above her navel. It was otherwise intact - not that it helped alleviate any of her irritation. Glaring daggers at the man, she hissed out, "Wow. Real gentlemanly." Thal disguised supporting her spinning head by pushing her hair out of her face and clenching her fanged teeth. She half hoped the man would just leave her to suffer in her cold, miserable humiliation.
Ah, but because she’d been the one outsmarted, it was cruel. What if someone had needed that gold, far more than thieving fingers? He snorted at her remark, but didn’t bother addressing it or rising to the bait. She certainly hadn’t been innocent. She’d taken the lure, and thought herself clever enough to get away with it. She could have faced far worse repercussions.
His air magic did a number, regardless, twirling and whirling her about as if in a miniature tornado, and though she wouldn’t be harmed by the predicament (save perhaps her pride), it did enough to snag back at the gold – flicking back to his outstretched grasp as if they’d been there all along. He’d save the mental image for future laughter, because he ought to try such methods more often, and simply nodded at her bizarre state on the ground. “Have a good evening.”
To which he strolled back the way he’d arrived, to finish out the ridiculous venture in the Grounds.
{FIN}
you're all bronze and bite all venom and fistfight
