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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!
Things were fine, until they simply weren’t. It only took half a moment for statements of danger and parties for the whole sentiments to turn into wholly different measures, and within an instant Melita was staring at the creature striving to asphyxiate Kaisel. “Seems to be doing me a favor,” she uttered with a laugh, before she realized how serious the predicament, racing over across the water and crouching down to place her hand along the Accepted’s arm, holding him above the waves and buoy line while she mulled over the possibilities.
It would be easy to settle into a panic, for her fingers to twitch and jerk as adrenaline took over. But she was too battle-hardened and used to the way survival made everyone dig their nails and claws into the earth, eternally ready for the world to backfire upon them. “Hang on a sec,” she uttered to him, as if he could do anything else. None of her magic would work here. All of the power would blast the creature to pieces, but also Kaisel – so she quickly drew from the daggers resting along her calf with her free hand, and stabbed at its center, for once requiring to be precise.
Much like a bandaid being ripped off, or a strip of wax in a sensitive area, it's best done by someone who can't feel every tiny pinprick of sensation at the slightest tug, allowing them the conviction to fully rip it off. That, and Mel's much more accurate aim of her knife, finishes off the remaining vitality of the riverstar, already thoroughly weakened by all the work they'd done to it, Mel's cannonfire especially carrying the brunt of the creature's demise.
The thing curls up once beneath her blade, suckers leaving Kaissel's face, and then it goes still and limp, easily tossed aside. Kaisel gasps behind it, the panic draining from him in that first full lungful, and his body sags heavily into the buoy line. "Thank fuck," he breathes heavily, taking a moment to run his free hand along his face as he tries to regain composure. "Ah, you saved my ass Mel. That thing was like glue." Pinpricks of red line his face in a circle around his mouth, the beads of blood dripping in excess as face wounds are want to do. He feels the sting the moment his palm slides over them, and he winces, hand drawn away with the red smear. He splashes himself, wiping away the minute gore.
"What a fucking day, let's just get this over with and be done." He has fountain water back in his pack on land, not that it hurts terribly or he's too wounded, but better to heal up than deal with tasting copper for a while. Assuming Mel is of a shared mine, he sets back into the task of them drawing this buoy line in, nearly complete already.
Kaisel
Enjoy the life, it's a great day to be alive
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
Once the vicious creature became limp in her hand, she sent one more cannon blast into its wake – carnage and pieces strewn about by confetti and river star limbs, but it was dead and gone and wouldn’t be doing any sort of regeneration in their midst. She exhaled a long breath and regained her focus, standing upwards and away from Kaisel, not too good at comforting others and granting space instead of sympathy. Especially with the Accepted, uncertain if she should be a shit and make some quip, or just leave him be – but then she glanced at the blood beading along his face, and let the insult fade behind her teeth. “Yeah, they’re nasty,” she shrugged, putting the knife back amongst the others laden on her legs. “I can’t heal though,” unless there was a luckier component to her wild magic, and even then, she’d be just as likely to send rubber ducks against his features rather than mending any vicious bombardments.
But then they could leave it be, and she nodded, suddenly wanting to be done with this task far more. Her hands grasped at the line, tugging and pulling it in with him, and before too long they could reach the shoreline with onslaught in hand and another bizarre story for the rest of their constituents.
