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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!
Toddler strides could only go for so long, so after exploring some portions of the Sidhe, Erebos had latched on to one of Deimos’ long legs, holding fast as the Sword lifted his limbs in a prominent stretch through the wood line. Appearing unbothered by the situation, it at least would give the youth a vantage point for spotting anything gilded and golden amidst the mass of leaves as they traversed.
Belial “helped”, in that he skipped ahead and got the infant going again in high pitched squeals – eventually they were both screeching in various tones, and the Sword figured they’d be sneaking up on no one as they wound their way along the Bodega. No one seemed to pay them much mind, the marketplace buzzed on its own ramparts, and he could quietly and quickly peruse wares, stalls, and the ground, amassing dedication to fortunate moments.
It had been a long day trekking through the woods with zero luck, but Thorn tries not to let it dampen his soul. If anything, he decides to take a break the second he reaches the Bodega, focusing on snagging something to eat and wondering if maybe that would lighten his spirits.
Perusing through as he finishes the kebab he’d snagged, his fingers dip into the candy he’d also grabbed — figuring a bit of dessert after dinner was a good idea. That’s about when he spots Deimos and the toddler amongst the other man’s companions. He can see the resemblance at least, and for that Theon drifts toward them with a smile. “Hey, didn’t expect t’see ya here. And who’s this?” Dropping to a crouch with his seafoam gaze widening toward Erebos, Thorn’s smile twitches a bit brighter.
The situation might’ve been likewise; Deimos’ brow arching at the familiar call of Thorn through the haze of the Greatwood’s thickets. “Thorn,” he rumbled in greeting – before the attention was deviated to Erebos, and the father couldn’t help a snort at the infant’s immediate glee. The child waved with rapt enthusiasm, loosening his hold on Deimos’ leg to ensure his salutation was notably met and received. ”I’m Erebos!” which was a mouthful for the toddler, and came out in various pronunciations.
As for mild explanations, the Sword could only be so idle in veracity; so it became thinly veiled and more furtive, presuming the Abandoned would be wise and cunning enough to catch the drift. “Figured I could take a break and look for more gardening tools. You?”
His smile brightens as Erebos introduces himself, Thorn’s head nodding softy in acknowledgement. “Hiya Erebos!” Comes the little greeting, his grin lingering before he tilts his attention back toward Deimos and snags a few more candies from the little satchel and plunks them into his mouth.
He is familiar with the terms, at least, having heard them go around a time or two before Tal ended up.. well, becoming a friend. “Yeah, same. Y’know, for the Greatwood, gardenin’ tools seem few ‘n far between.” He huffs with a little laugh, straightening up to stand again and cast a glance toward the surrounding foliage, just in case.
You never knew if they'd just randomly show up, after all.
Unfortunately, this meeting was determined to be brief – no amount of gilded roses made their presence known. Nonetheless, Erebos was still content at having met another individual through the Greatwood’se expanse. “Of course,” he wrinkled his nose, pretending it was a jovial nuance rather than the boundless determination most of them had – for either Starfall, other newfound missions, or healing a friend.
“I should get this one home,” leaning down to grab hold of the toddler and put him in his arms, rather than tugging him along his legs. Erebos gave some minimal protest with an indignant squeal, but one last wave for Thorn. “Good luck,” Deimos rumbled thereafter, because so far, the Sword hadn’t had any within the wild timber; but others might have better opportunities.
