Astaroth
// a beast in the business of selling forgiveness //
Astaroth’s from a time that was the essential predecessor of the Whitebrim, not the likes that Wardens in the past had done much about. In fact, each one had their own separate tribes, different lives fighting for the same things. Astaroth’s tribe eventually died out, the second sourcing food had become impossible, which had led to his departure. And, despite the damage and everything else he’d sustained before becoming Ancient, likely the only survivor of it.
“I keep hearing rumors about it, but I’m afraid I am not well versed in the history of the Hollowed Grounds.” He offers with a polite smile, inclining his head in case Deimos felt the urge to explain. He knows it had something to do with the Voice, a beast of a new god that he’s still unfamiliar with, but one that had rivaled enough to create a whole war between the gods.
“I keep hearing rumors about it, but I’m afraid I am not well versed in the history of the Hollowed Grounds.” He offers with a polite smile, inclining his head in case Deimos felt the urge to explain. He knows it had something to do with the Voice, a beast of a new god that he’s still unfamiliar with, but one that had rivaled enough to create a whole war between the gods.
// dead eyes on a treacherous grin //
