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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!
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
Deimos was usually content to see LongNight end; even if it hadn’t been a horrifying experience in a number of years, the terrors and trauma of its nightmare denizens never truly went away. A touch and a fragment of passing motions, of shadowy fixtures, were enough to summon the dreaded memories, and so by the time Flowerbirth sprung its wings, the Warden was more than content to stretch out of the restless confines and back into the sun’s warmth.
Though Halo always held its fixture of cold, something still seemed…off. Perhaps it was difficult to place amongst and amidst their portion of horizon, but by now they would usually have portions of mud from melted snow or periods where the built up powder slid off of roofs and into the pathways. As he walked, checking in on the masses of citizens he’d sworn to protect, none of those such things appeared. Maybe it was a slower waking for spring. Maybe it was something else.
He sighed and let that thought drift, beginning to wind his way towards the Barracks to ensure duties were taken care of – Belial flying above and unfurling his wings, loud hoots of obnoxious parallels, while Zuriel forged along beside him, silent and contemplative, mirror images of one another as they took their normal trails towards training and instruction.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
With the arrival of Flowerbirth came the arrival of one seer and her companion in Halo. Alys was troubled by her recent vision and all too ready to share it with those who could, perhaps, do something with the information, such as it was. Perhaps she was overreacting. Her dreams were always so vague, and yet... she was uneasy all the same.
She walked through Snowcloak, on the way to find Deimos, Sascha at her heels. The little ursur, who had once known these streets as well as any other native Halovian, stuck close these days, still slightly discontent after her untimely demise upon the tundra. Pausing, Alys reached to rub a hand over the bear's ears, consoling and comforting, before moving on.
It was cold, but not uncomfortably so - but Alys had lived long enough in Halo to know that something was off. It wasn't warming up the way it should. Snow had yet to give way to mud and puddles. It was unsettling to see the sun rise on a region that should have been blooming, in its own quiet way, but was instead simply... stuck.
Winding her way towards the Barracks, Alys was unsurprised to find Deimos on a familiar trail. Although things in Halo had changed since she'd last visited, some things, it seemed, would remain the same. The seer called a hello, waving a hand in greeting, before hurrying along to fall into step with Deimos on the way towards the training grounds. "Is it just me," she commented, "Or is it not nearly as... melted as past Flowerbirths have been?"
Weird, but fuckin' beautiful
Minor powerplay allowed without permission.
Feel free to use force/magic on Alys.
Emotional Telepathy | The user can read deep emotions of those within a 5 foot radius at will. Control is excellent. Note: "Deep emotions" include anything written in a character's narration in a post.
Emotional Perception | The user can read surface level emotions of those within a 15 foot radius. Control is moderate. Note: "Surface level emotions" include anything written in a character's narration in a post.
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
The distant greeting stopped him from progressing much further – though Belial’s sight from above pinpointed Alys – and with a direct hoot, addressed the pair long before Deimos could. Snorting under his breath, he granted her a welcoming nod to the duo, before they were beginning to walk further into the threshold of the Barracks once more, Zuriel traversing alongside.
He shouldn’t have been surprised by her visit, he’d previously implored her to come, but the initial inquiry gave him some pause, even if he started applying it to light humor on initial rumbles. “Did you only come here to marvel at the memory mud?” he grinned, before shaking his head and adjusting his gaze over towards Citadel walls and distant impasses; imagining the Greenwing unthawed and the rest of the collective thresholds much in the same state. It could have a massive impact on their shorelines, tracking, hunting, and any number of other issues beginning to concoct and contort around his mind. “I agree with you though. Something seems off. I was going to head out towards the Tundra after making my rounds here.” Ensuring this threshold was safe first, before flying off into the different sections and scrutinizing for himself. Brows furrowing, he sighed, pondering into the ramifications further. “Is King’s End faring the same?” Or maybe Halo had been the only marked by the alterations – it wouldn’t be the first time.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
"Of course," Alys replied, grinning in response. "It's my favorite part of the season, didn't you know? Loved it last year." The lightness in her tone and twinkle in her eye belied her words, though, and as she fell into step beside Deimos, she was quietly pleased to not have to contend with quite so much of the muck as the year before - even if she wondered about its absence. "Do you need any company?" she added, nodding towards the Tundra beyond the Citadel's walls. She might no longer be a citizen, but she was still happy to help where she could, if such a thing were possible.
As for King's End, Alys nodded. "It's not quite as cold as it was before, but it's certainly not warming up at the rate we've come to expect. Flowers aren't budding. My garden is quite sad." A faint frown creased her brow. "It could be nothing," she suggested. "But, this is Caido." And in Caido, oftentimes change brought unwelcome side effects. Alys sighed. Perhaps she was overreacting. But she hadn't been able to shake her vision, or the news of the strange sleepiness in the Oerwoud, or the periodic bouts of exhaustion she'd encountered since.
Weird, but fuckin' beautiful
Minor powerplay allowed without permission.
Feel free to use force/magic on Alys.
Emotional Telepathy | The user can read deep emotions of those within a 5 foot radius at will. Control is excellent. Note: "Deep emotions" include anything written in a character's narration in a post.
Emotional Perception | The user can read surface level emotions of those within a 15 foot radius. Control is moderate. Note: "Surface level emotions" include anything written in a character's narration in a post.
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
Rolling his eyes at the sarcastic plumes, because it certainly wasn’t his ideal portion of the season, there was still a necessity to it all. Even in Halo; where more subtle connotations hailed the season’s alterations. Her inquiry gave him pause though, glancing down at the ursur companion for a moment, recalling a time where the creature’s demise had meant she sought shelter far, far away from the endless bounty of snow. If she was asking, then perhaps she’d relinquished some of that trepidation. “If you would like.” He’d leave her to decide on the matter.
Based on their prior conversations about strange unravelings, he unfurled a low snort at the statement. As feet traced along the Barracks, at least outwardly everything seemed fine; he could check on inner portions later. Threading along the next alternating path, his eyes narrowed, taking in the notions of King’s End’s gardens not amplified to their usual occasion. “That was my thought too.” With two kingdoms potentially riddled and rankled by an extended winter, of which he could only estimate and speculate, there notion that more might be affected gnarled at the back of his mind. “We have had strange weather lately in several seasons.”
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
