Flowers for Astaroth


[10] Knight
I believe I'd linked it in another thread, but since this is the spot that's actually for fanfiction, I figure I may as well show it off properly. This is a drabble series I wrote under the pen name 'mastersam' on, that may or may not continue indefinitely, and whenever my whimsy says to. It focuses on Astaroth finding himself in a marvelous place called 'City Park', whatever that means. It'll also be edited a bit from what's on my account's version, mostly for smoothness and S&G.

Chapter 1: Grass

It was dark. Very dark, to be exact. Astaroth felt like something was being held over his face, and it was wiry and cool and kept trying to poke through his eyelids. He made a loud, guttural moan, and realized that it sounded very muffled, even more than the mask that he wore usually made it sound. His first idea was to think about what could possibly be discomforting him so much without actually hurting him, and doing so all over, but thinking never seemed to do Astaroth any good. It only served to irritate him, because it meant that there were too many little things to go through his head, and if it was little, it never mattered. His second idea was to get whatever was all over his front off of himself, and to accomplish this he placed the palms of his large hands adjacently to his shoulders before giving a mighty heave, pushing away the thing that was in front of him.

In doing so, Astaroth discovered that he was not under the thing that was weakly attempting to smother him, but that he was on top of it. The force of his shove succeeded in flipping him to his back, laying in what was determined to be thick, slightly crunchy grass. It was not textured out of dryness so much as it was just how stiff the juicy blades were. The wetness it made on his back was less irritating than the poking that it had done to his face, and so he felt content to lay there for a moment while making sure that he was unhurt and that nothing was missing. He clenched his fists.

His fingers were there, and so were his bracers.

He curled his toes.

They rubbed against the inner sole of the black leather boots he wore.

He then felt something prod his heart lightly. As he hadn't wanted to move that yet, he knew something else was there, and within arm's reach. His blank eyes shot open and he roared as he blindly grabbed at whatever was standing at his side, the perpetrator of fondling his body parts. His great hand wrapped around an arm that wasn't even as thick as the handle of his axe, and following the fragile length of flesh and bone, his eyes met those of a little boy, the golem's soulless white spheres meeting the child's watery brown ones, his entire small body quaking with terror. However, Astaroth lost interest when he saw that the boy had soiled himself; that did not amuse him in the least, and so he let the child flee upon letting go.

Once he felt that he was alone, Astaroth scanned the grass around him to find his beloved axe, Kulutes, laying just within his reach. When his fingers gripped the stout handle, he felt much more comfortable about his situation, a smile being visible behind his mask from the slight squint his eyes made. He forced himself to stand, and then took a look around the place.

Everything around him was huge. The oak he stood under was of respectable size, but it was nothing compared to the colossal towers that stood not two hundred yards from him. They were broader and taller even than the Tower of Remembrances, and covered in mirrors that reflected the sun and stung his eyes. What amazed him the most was that there were so many of them, and he wanted to eventually see them all, for something of such grand stature could not have been made without great power, and most likely held even more power inside of them. The sheer number of them made him wonder if each one housed a weapon of the same power as Soul Edge; the idea of it made his head hurt, and so he decided to sit down on a bench nearby, resting under the oak's leaves, his axe going over his shoulder.

As said before, Astaroth was not much of a thinker, but he knew this was a situation where thinking would be called for. He was out of practice, and it showed, since he could not make any significant thoughts about his predicament. He'd even forgotten by then what he had originally been trying to think about, which made him shift uncomfortably. He then decided that, if he sat and thought enough, he'd remember what it was he'd been thinking of in the first place, and so he leaned forward, propping his chin on a curled fist attached to a bulging arm that rested on his bent knee.


[10] Knight
Second chapter being added right now, mostly to get more than just an overly articulate intro in.

Chapter 2: The Daisy

"Hey, look at that guy!"

"Yeah, he's so big and ugly!"

"You fink we can make him leave?"

"I dunno, he's prob'ly so big he'd eat us alive or somefin'."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. But he looks weird, we need to-"

"I think he looks nice."

All of the children, having gathered into a mass of glances and loud whispers, had been peering at the giant, who'd been sitting in one spot under the tree for quite some time. They turned to the one who had decided to compliment him rather than continue demeaning the blissfully unaware golem. She was a little girl, with auburn hair and pale skin, wearing a cream yellow dress and matching wide-brimmed hat. She looked at him with her big, green eyes, and smiled widely before scouring the ground for a moment.


Astaroth, being the big lug that he was, had done little but continue sitting and thinking, drawing up nothing but blanks. Grumbling lightly, he'd almost decided to start smashing things with his axe when he felt the tiniest of hands tugging at his wrist. He scowled at what he saw: another one of those children, this time with the most daring of nerves it seemed, or the greatest stupidity, for none would approach Astaroth alone, lest they wished for a painful death.

But this one did not falter at his foul expression, she neither quivered nor shook; her eyes met his, and there was but a moment of silence before the girl held up her other hand. Pinched lightly between her thumb and forefinger was a daisy, petals of the purest white and a bud of bright, sunny yellow in the middle. "Here, Mister. I picked it for you," said the girl, reaching just a bit higher.

The giant's expression went from annoyance to confusion. He had just been offered a gift, a very small flower from a very small girl. He plucked it from her hand softly and began to stare at it with a furrowed brow. The flower meant something to the girl, but of what it could be Astaroth only had the slightest of ideas. Did she want to be... friends?

"What's your name, Mister?"

Astaroth started, his concentration broken, and looked at the girl again. "My name?"


"I am Astaroth."

"Mister Roth?"

Astaroth's face became irritated again.

"No. Astaroth."


He smashed his fist onto the seat in anger. "No, Astaroth!"


"No! As-tah-roth!"

He pounded with both fists this time, matching each syllable.


Astaroth roared into the sky, bellowing as loud as he could, "ASTAROOOOOOTH!"


The girl looked up at him with an expression that she was trying very hard to say his name right, but was just barely unable to.

Astaroth sighed in defeat. Placing a hand on his forehead, he conceded, "Mister Roth."

The girl smiled widely. "My name's Emily."

"Emily?" echoed the golem.


At that, Emily skipped away, leaving Astaroth to contemplate the now-crushed daisy in his hand.


[10] Knight
Another chapter or two.

Chapter 3: A Strange Breeze

"Honey, it's time to go home!"

Emily, hearing her mother's voice, merrily skipped to the woman. She was quite tall, had bright red hair and green eyes, and a rather shapely figure. She smiled widely as Emily showed up. "Hi, Mom!"

"Hey there dear. C'mon, let's get in the car. What would you say to some ice cream before we get home?"

Emily nodded enthusiastically as she clambered into the backseat and buckled herself in.

A few minutes down the road, Emily said, "Hey Mom! You'll never guess who I met today!"

Still smiling faintly, the mother, Jane Blackthorne, asked, "Who would that be, sweetie?"

"I got to meet Mister Roth! He's a giant."

"Oh really? A giant?"

"Uh-huh. He's big and tall and muscley and has tan skin-"

"Honey, you know you shouldn't be talking about people just because they're colored differently."

"But Mom, that's not it. He was really nice and funny and I gave him a flower!"

Jane's expression faltered. "Nice? What do you mean, nice?"

Emily bounced in her seat a little bit. "He scared off some mean boys and told me his name, and he has a big heart, too!"

Jane was still not relieved. "Really, a big heart? How big?"

Emily giggled. "REAL big. It's so big, it sticks right out of his chest!"

After that, Jane was silent. This had to be the product of Emily's imagination, she was sure of it. She knew her daughter had a wild imagination and a knack for coming up with the silliest things, but a man with his heart coming out of his chest? Maybe it was something she got from watching too many cartoons...


[10] Knight
So, if it's not apparent by now, I'd like some comments on it too. Just...

...Saiyan. B)

Chapter 4: Rolling Hills

While Astaroth continued to sit and ponderously ponder in his pondering spot, many of the other children, playing around on the big toy, were constantly throwing nervous glances in his direction. "What d'you think we should do?" one of the boys, brown-haired and eyed, asked another.

"I dunno, Billy," replied a blue-eyed blonde. "Maybe we should try and bug him 'til he goes away. He's not nice, and all he does is sit there and scare us."


The boys, Billy and Michael, jumped off the toy and made their way to the giant.

The daisy, still quite smashed, laid in Astaroth's wide palm. He'd never had a friend before. He'd never even thought of having one. But this girl, Emily, she didn't care about how big he was, how mean he was, or how scary he was. Back home, even fiends like Nightmare and the lizardmen looked at him as an unnatural freak, worse in nature and temperament than they. Then again, Nightmare thought of everything as inferior, so it was probably just a sense that everything was beneath him and unworthy of respect.

Emily may not have found him unpleasant, but the children were all mildly annoying.

"Hey! Fatso!"

Astaroth's face became stony upon hearing the young voices. Scratch the above statement, they were very annoying.

He turned his head in their direction, putting on the meanest, nastiest, most frightening face he could muster. One of the boys faltered, but the other kept going at him. Before he knew what was going on, the kid was dancing around him, making faces and poking him. "Go away!" he yelled, trying to catch the boy but failing miserably.

Finally, after about ten seconds, he caught the boy by the waistband, his sausage fingers grabbing the kid's underwear. Lifting him up, Astaroth winced slightly as the boy shrieked, "Aah! Wedgie!"

Before Astaroth was able to throw him away, the other that had followed shouted, "Billy!" and ran full-boar at the giant, leaping and smashing into his bald head. Michael wrapped his arms around Astaroth's neck and refused to let go. "Graaagh!" he roared, dropping Billy to the ground.

The blonde one then yelled out to the rest of the kids at the playground, "DOGPILE!" which prompted Billy to jump and nail Astaroth in the stomach.

Astaroth flailed around for a bit before grabbing both Michael and Billy and holding each of them around the middle with a hand. Again, his attempt to make them go away was thwarted by children, this time all of them charging him from the playground. Children of all sorts, shapes, and sizes glomped him, knocking him to the ground and pinning him there. It was at least a dozen kids, over three hundred pounds laid on top of him, spread over him just enough to prevent him from throwing them off.

He stopped struggling, and instead bellowed as loudly as he could, "GERROFF MEEE!" his voice slightly muffled from one of them sitting on his face. Just as quickly as he'd been smothered, he was relieved of the weight, and the children scrambled away before he could get up and grab them. He unintelligibly roared in frustration before deciding he would get back at them. He didn't know when, and he didn't know how, but he knew that he would, eventually.