Click here for a list of weather descriptions, seasonal festivals, and a real time:site time conversion.
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!
The final afternoon before the start of the longest night is a surprisingly balmy one out in the Oerwoud, at least compared to regions more affected by the bite of Deepfrost. And it makes for a cheerful celebration (if you put aside whatever strange and sleepy happenings have been plaguing the jungle as of late), music threading through low-hanging branches and various colourful lanterns nestling in the undergrowth or hanging, braided into vines, guiding attendees to the event.
This year, the decor makes it appear as if it has grown organically into the Oerwoud, that nature alone is responsible for the impressive array of food and drink on offer. Tables and chairs have been crafted with branches still sprouting greenery in places, and plates lay nestled on beds of fragrant leaves or mosses. A few hammocks have even been strung up for those who would rather welcome Longnight horizontally rather than on their feet, swaying gently in the breeze and attended by the odd hanging snake for company.
No mere location can take away from the feast itself, though. The spread is magnificent: an abundance of slow-cooked meats and delicate fish, root vegetables glazed with honey, hearty stews and lighter soups and fragrant, seeded loaves of bread. Nestled among condiments and sauces are smaller plates of whipped cheeses, stacks of crackers, ripe fruits and steamed greens and soft dumplings. Other tables hold jugs of punch, bottles of wine and liquor or separate, smaller feasts committed entirely to desserts; a chocolate fountain dominates one, surrounded by pastries, marshmallows, fresh strawberries and other delights, and another holds a variety of cakes, cookies, pies and candied fruits.
The glint of tiny silver hand-bells is almost missed among the sheer variety on offer, but they are no less important for it - when the sun finally sets, their chime will welcome Longnight, and darkness will reign for a week.
Hello and welcome to The Feast of Bells! Eat, drink and be merry on the last evening before Longnight.
Please post your character arriving, and if you have acquired a bell to bring as part of the Seasonal Event, include a link to that thread in your post!
Remember: You will need to post at least three times in this SWE thread for it to count for the SE, MP and/or levelling.
The announcement that the Feast of Bells was to be in the Oerwoud had left him with that deepened sense of dread. He could never quite shake the trepidation, due to years of existing within Caido’s orbit, and after events in the Peepholes, he’d gone back and forth on attending at all. The notions that something else could occur never quite left his mind; but he also didn’t want to be left in the dark, ignorant, when information could be on the line. Especially once he’d received Colt’s word about the monster, potentially adjacent and parallel to things occurring in the jungle. So, begrudgingly (and curiously), he went with Erebos.
Even that left him hovering – because while the youth held no suspicion or furtive measures, Deimos would end up being the towering giant nearby, gaze flickering everywhere, trying to find a threat before anything had started. His stare went from Erebos to others beginning to gather and back again, taking a few deep breaths and catching the aromas, then the sights, of the food. Ensuring his bell, vastly ornamental and meant to represent Halo in its all glory, was in his pocket, he then advanced upon the table, glancing again to his son. “What do you want first?”
Erebos held none of his father’s apprehension – too young and ignorant to be burdened with such a multitude, his curiosity was the thing ignited. Rather than dread pooling in his stomach, excitement and glee flickered around his features, a wide grin beset at every twist and turn of his head. It’d been his first time in the jungle, surrounded by the lush greenery and hanging branches, not used to the array of hues and color brought to life in such sheer wonder and splendor. More than once he thought about tugging on a stray vine or seeing if one of the hanging snakes would slither down to him, wishing he’d brought Orsino along so they could run and play around the multitudes.
But Deimos seemed to be on high alert, and the boy thought it best not to stray too far – though indulgent just the same. His fingers grazed one of the hammocks and watched them swing, following his father’s footsteps and the aromas tugging around his nose. Tying his bell to his pant loops, he raced ahead, spying the jugs of punch and the stacks of crackers, fruits, and cheeses – eyes, predictably, going towards the pastries dominion and the riddling of desserts. He knew better than to say cookies first, but he grabbed a plate for Deimos and himself, pointing out the meats and portions of honeyed bread. “These!”
bring me your suffering the rattle roar of broken bones
The Firecracker had been monumental in the journey of going across regions and wilds to pick up Iskra, then eventually wind their way back through to the Oerwoud for this feast. Since the dream sequence though, she wasn’t sure how to regard the jungle, other than in suspicion, curiosity, and hoping for a trail of clues that might lend her some insight towards Ludo’s disappearance and weird nightmare figments.
Of course, when they arrived, there wasn’t any of that – though no less intriguing with its massive table of food and refreshments. When nothing oriented with sand or too many eyes came wandering out, Melita thought it was safe to scan the crowd, pulling Iskra along towards the buffet while her head swung back and forth. “I gotta talk to Flora at some point. And let me know if you see the Rae demigod here too.” He’d know him better anyway – given the Halo populace. “God business news” to pass on wasn’t the greatest sentiment for a miniature festival, but she’d certainly do her part.
My heroes had the heart to lose their lives out on the limb
The murmur of bells on the wind echoed the flickering candles as though tiny voices whispered back and forth, rising and falling in pace with bobbing and swaying light. Maea's hands felt awkward and empty without adding another chime to the chorus. She had forgotten all about the festival, wrapped up in her books, to the point of realizing with a jolt of dismay just last nnight that Longnight was fast approaching without her having prepped at all. This would have been a disaster, once. But as she poured mulled cider for herself and watched steam dissolve into the mild air, she admitted quietly to herself that it felt good, too. Peace, or something akin to it, had eased tension from nerves wound perpetually taught, and as she strolled slowly past the laden tables picking morsels onto a plate for herself, her attention lingered more on the wonders of the furnishings than the people that gathered around to celebrate. A distant smile curled the corners of her lips, in quiet delight over the organic shapes and subtle whimsy of the scene. Perfectly practical, wonderfully simple; remove the peoople and the food and tomorrow none would even know there had been a gathering at all. All these trampling feet would lift from the mossy carpet, birds and grubs would clear away any scraps, and when the sun dawned in the new year, the forest could get to work on covering the tables and chairs with vines.
Would that she could detach herself from a place so easily. But the roots of the Greatwood was tying themselves into knots around her heart, and nevermind the growing sense of suffocation that haunted her some days. It wasn't the forest that bothered her, she knew that; it was an old sickness rearing its ugly head. Taking her plate and her drink, Maea laid claim to one of the hammocks and slumped into it, gently rocking it to and fro while she ate, quietly watching strangers mill this way and that while mulling over the wanderlust and its causes. Considering options. Hoping to catch a glimpse of Liam; his absence contributed to a moldering ache in her bones, that she couldn't wait to get rid of.
// i came from a broken home, so look at all my broken bones count me in, but count me out, i know what this is about //
It’s the second time he’d shown up at the Oerwoud, but this time it’s for a better event than the strange glowing light of the Peepholes had been and the strange dreams that had followed suit. The crowd gathers, familiar faces flitting through the comfortable seating and the tables laden with food. Already Sunjata heads toward the spread of food – snagging a variety of the slow-cooked meats and the root vegetables, drizzling it with glittering honey.
He nods to Melita and Iskra initially, before he goes to snag one of the larger hammocks, listening to the ring of the rest of the bells as the breeze flits through to let them chime. And he sits there comfortably a wallflower, watching the event occur around him as he nibbles at his food.
Sunjata sits off to the side in a big hammock and eats! He acquired his bell here: [SE] really rings a bell
the flood
// i'm the next, so get in line just let me have my fucking time //
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
"Here's a question for you," Danta says conversationally as they stroll among the tables heavy with food and booze, his steps slow, a plate already in his hands as he pauses to admire a tower of crackers stacked like a house of cards. "Why don't we have a hammock in our den yet?" Grinning over his shoulder at Astaroth, he gestures towards the colourful drapes of fabric begging for their weight between two trees.
"I bet both of us could fit in one of those." And if they didn't and they fall to the ground, it'll give them and their likely audience a laugh as well. "Oh," he adds, reaching for the cracker right at the bottom of the tower which predictably causes it to come crashing down - which was his entire goal, yes, "did you bring your bell with you?"
Adding some crackers, meats, cheese and fruit to his plate, the Maverick shakes his hips at Asta to demonstrate the small crystalline bell he's tied to his belt.
"Okay, the password is souffle," Carlo stage-whispers from his space beneath one of the long tables. The passage of dozens of feet obscured by long lengths of tablecloth makes for a slightly disorientating experience, but the Taliesin twin can think of no better place to make a den or hideout at a feast than directly beneath the food. "If you need to leave and come back in, remember that. And er, we should probably ask any interlopers for it too."
Interloper is a new word he'd recently discovered after a well-to-do man had yelled it at them for sneaking around his bookshop and re-alphabetising manuscripts based on how boring the covers looked, and he will continue to find excuses to use it. "I'm going to go and find dessert," he whispers again to his brother. "I feel like at a feast like this, we should be allowed to have dessert before dinner, right?"
Assuming the answer to be a resounding yes, Carlo crawls to one end of their table hideout to peek out, half obscured by the tablecloth draped over his head. From here, though, he can spy the smaller dessert sections, and his eyes are firmly on an entire honey cake with their names on it.
know the rules well, so you can break them effectively
The Butcher, already laden with a bowl of steaming stew, squints away from the Maverick to peer at the colorful hammock in question as if the realization has just hit him too – to where he looks back at Danta with a soft laugh and a shake of his head. “That is a good question, darling. I would suppose it is because we had not thought of it yet.” He surely didn’t – but it sounded phenomenal to try it.
Busying himself with snagging a few cheeses and fruit and a variety of desserts to his plate for his sweet tooth, he leans in toward Danta with a roguish grin. “Would you like to try it?” He purrs in a conspirator’s voice, tail flicking behind him with mischief flooding through his gaze just before the crackers fall. A bark of a laugh leaves him as he rises back to his full height, admiring the chaos of cracker bits strewn about before Danta’s adhd-ness points to the bell hanging from his belt.
Nodding and shuffling the items in his hands to produce the bell tucked away in his breast pocket, he reveals the glittering and shiny bell with Halo’s aurora’s spread out. “I did, yes.” He bounces his brow before tucking it away again and nudges Danta with his hip to head toward the hammock.
"Souffle," Calan mumbles under his breath, not because he needs help remembering it, obviously, but because passwords work better if you say them twice in a whisper. He nods at once, both solemn and wildly encouraging, his eyebrows lifting as if Carlo has not only made a good point but discovered a law of feasts previously hidden from less clever people. "I think I saw a sign that said you have to eat dessert before dinner, here," he whispers back.
Before his brother can vanish entirely into the forest of ankles and hems and badly guarded shoes, Calan leans closer, lowering his voice. "I'll see if I can find anything good while you’re gone," he promises.
Once Carlo has started toward the dessert table, Calan turns his attention to the underside of their temporary kingdom. From here, the feast is all shoes and shadows, dangling cloth and the occasional hand reaching down for something dropped or forgotten. He stays low, eyes moving carefully from one possible opportunity to the next, not touching anything yet, because the first rule of finding things is knowing what’s worth finding before anyone notices you’ve started looking.
Calan is hiding under one of the largest feast tables
Finch plays with a coin in his pocket, already nabbed from a random pocket, letting the smooth metal dance in and out of his lithe fingers. It's the first time he's managed to come to one of these things, having rarely left Torchline before his indentured servitude to Jack, but he plays it utterly cool as he strolls through the lines of table. The lines of his clothing are clean and tidy, his hair brushed back wavy and smooth, and the broken curve of his nose reads more dashing than trouble in the soft lights of the feast. He cleans up nice for a former street-rat turned renegade thief, and he plans to use it to the fullest of his advantage.
Finch did not come here looking to make trouble, but trouble so often loves to find him and offer him a dance, so he wouldn't wish to say 'no' to whatever opportunities come calling. He snags a glass of wine off a random table and takes a long sip, relishing the refined taste on his tongue. It was a good night for mischief, he could smell it.
He couldn't help but smile as a familiar flash of a young face caught his eye, the wily figure ducking underneath a table suspiciously close to the deserts. He strolls over and before the head can retreat, ruffles the hair of Carlo, grinning wickedly.
"Thought I'd find you here," He says, raising an eyebrow. "Is Calan under there too? Or is he picking pockets somewhere else?"
Standing there, killing time, Can't commit to anything but a crime
For a feast as fine as this, Thal would usually find herself in some scandalous dress, ready to entice gazes and embolden offers of more; but Deepfrost is cold, and unless she wants to be a very pretty statue for someone to decorate in blood, she'll have to stick to the more practical attire for the season. Hence why her cloak is a striking display of silver embroidery, the thread shimmering in whirling designs down the edge of the thick wool. Her smooth, slow gait sends the near-black material brushing delicately against the snow like a whispered promise of warmth, only to leave the ice unchanged behind it. Dark waves of hair curl around her throat like a scarf, tiny silver bells dangling from her igneous horns like stars reflected on a black sea.
Thal scans her gaze over the crowd as she gravitates to the drinks and desserts, the twinkle of bells subtle with the movement. Her eyes search for familiar faces, pausing on Astaroth and Dantalion with her usual nodding grin, but she decides to find sustenance before approaching anyone. Delicate fingers reach out from beneath her cloak to snag a glass of an amber alcohol.
Without pausing, she proceeds towards the dessert spread, mouth curving up with delight to see the options. Her mouth waters as she considers which to pick first.
And I can still see it all In my mind All of you, all of me Intertwined
Liam would be lying if he said he wasn't hoping to spot Maea amongst the partygoers. He knew he'd been away far too frequently in the past season or so, but he'd hoped that she would eventually follow him from the Greatwood to build a new life, away from the Fae who seemed determinedly hostile. As yet, though, he had seen little of her in his ventures to the desert, and he missed her with a sharp ache that refused to go away.
He roamed the feast, hazel eyes darting impatiently over the crowd, searching for the familiar, pale form of his beloved. And when he saw her, his face lit, an almost boyish excitement at having an opportunity to spend time with her leaping to the forefront. She'd slumped into a hammock, seemingly content to be on her own, and for a moment, he stopped to admire her from afar. But the pause was over just as quickly as it had begun, eager as he was to return to her side.
So he made his way over, leaning against one of the trees holding the hammock up as he looked down at his partner. "Hey, love," he said, a soft smile on his face. "Got room for one more?" And if she'd let him, he'd join her in the hammock, content to while away the Feast by her side.
I once believed love would be Black and white But it's golden
Liam
Minor powerplay allowed without permission.
Feel free to use force/magic on Liam.
Zavien looked down at Sohalia for the thousandth time, checking that she hadn't drifted off despite his hand being firmly wrapped around hers. Without the morning sickness, their trip to the Oerwoud had gone better than expected, but he was still worried about her energy levels and the colder environment. He barely took in the vast arrays of foods or the people milling around them as they walked. Soh consumed his every thought.
Smiling, he squeezed her hand before finally bothering to glance around at the arrangements, momentarily surprised by the way it appeared to have grown from the forest itself. He blinked, looking for friendly faces they could sit near as he asked, "Where do you want to sit? I can grab us some drinks." Probably something warm and hearty.
