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Character of the Season
Frail in body but dangerously quick of mind, Nikandr is the sort of character who proves that curiosity can be just as perilous as any weapon. A necromancer, inventor, and problem-solver with more ambition than self-preservation, Niki approaches the world like a puzzle box begging to be opened, even when what’s inside has teeth. Blunt, dry-witted, fiercely independent, and carrying a history best left partially buried, he has a knack for making even failure feel fascinating. Whether he’s raising the dead, moving across Caido to King's End, or experiencing a hangover for the first time, Nikandr brings a wonderfully strange spark to Caido, and we can’t wait to see what trouble his brilliant mind wanders into next.
Congratulations, Niki!
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 best way to tell someone what they were doing wrong was to show them, but the woman didn't seem to get that lesson yet. She stood - having taken the fall better than Thal expected - but the point hadn't quite sunk in. Her stance was still off-balance, her body wide-open for anyone to strike. The only positive was the gleam in her dark eyes, that hunger for thrill and violence that she knew reflected in the storm of her own eyes whenever she fought. Maybe there was hope for her yet.
"You should focus more on yourself first." Because, before the poorly executed kick could bruise her shins, Thal was darting behind the woman. A flicker of shadows swallowed her, and when she reappeared, she was sliding a foot between the horrid stance to force it apart, shoving forward gently just to watch her topple again.
The words were sharp, commanding, but not quite cruel. "Feet close. Back upright. Eyes open." Not that it mattered when Thal was blinking out of existence again, her arms crossed when she popped in front to give the woman a smug smirk, watching to see if the orders would be followed.
I had a dream, which was not all a dream... The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars Did wander darkling in the eternal space, Rayless, and pathless..
Zairah didn’t see her move. One heartbeat Thalassa was in front of her, the next the air behind her shifted — weight, heat, intent — and then she was shoved forward again. Her boots slipped, knees cracked the deck, palms slapped the planks hard enough to sting.
She laughed. Couldn’t help it. It burst out sharp, breathless, bright with adrenaline.
“You’re fast,” she rasped, pushing herself up again. The skin of her palms burned, her balance a mess, but she was grinning like a fool. “But I learn quick.”
This time when she stood, her stance was narrower, the way Thalassa had said; feet close, back upright, eyes open. She breathed through her teeth, steadying herself, tail twitching like a fuse waiting to catch.
Then she moved. Not with grace — not even close — but with hunger.
She turned on the ball of her foot and lunged low, aiming not for Thalassa’s face or chest but for her center, the way an animal might. Her shoulder pitched first, an awkward but solid shove meant to knock the captain off-balance just long enough to prove a point: she was listening.
It wasn’t elegant. Her body was still half a step behind her instincts, all elbows and too much force, but there was some [low level] power in the motion. Raw, unrefined, alive.
Thal didn't speak, didn't praise or refute the woman's words, but a small ghost of a smile curled at her lips, approving. The woman caught on quick and she didn't give up easily, and Thal could work with that. She didn't notice how she began to think of the younger Ancient as a project or how she became slowly more invested in ensuring she could protect herself against the new world she'd been tossed into.
Focusing instead on the correcting form and flashes of determination reflected in honeyed eyes, Thal saw the twist of the oversized boots against the wood, anticipating the instinctual attack that might come next. It wasn't elegant, but that didn't matter in a fight; what mattered was that it wasn't controlled, and as the shoulder game barreling towards her, the Captain barely had to twist from her path to send the woman flying past.
Fabric from the coat brushed against her shirt, but she otherwise remained perfectly untouched as she stuck her foot out, intending to turn the momentum against her - and most likely send her tumbling again. "Don't be impatient. Don't overextend." Her firm voice held a boredom she didn't quite feel, her eyes too bright from amusement.
I had a dream, which was not all a dream... The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars Did wander darkling in the eternal space, Rayless, and pathless..
Zairah hit the deck again.
The sound was almost musical now — the slap of her palms, the grunt of impact, the soft scuff of her coat dragging across the boards. If Thalassa had meant to trip her, she succeeded. If she’d meant to discourage her, she failed spectacularly.
Zairah’s laugh was short, rough, and cut through the air like glass ground underfoot. Then came the growl, low and quiet, more frustration than fury. “Gods—” She spat the word like it burned her tongue. “You’re slippery.”
She rolled onto her knees, hair stuck to her face, tail lashing hard enough to rattle a nearby crate. Her palms stung, her pride ached, and she could feel the slow heat of anger uncoiling in her gut — not cold anger, not resentment. Lust. The same kind of hungry heat that had filled the temple halls when Charlie laughed and the world had gone red.
Zairah shoved herself up, boots scraping, chest rising and falling hard. “Don’t be impatient,” she echoed, mocking the tone but not the meaning. Her grin was all teeth. “Easy for you to say when you blink out of the way like smoke.”
Still, she listened. Her stance changed again, feet drawn in tighter, knees bent just enough, her weight lower now, centered. A spark of something clicked behind her eyes.
Then she lunged again, but this time not in a straight line. She feinted left first — clumsy but clever — and then pivoted right, her tail sweeping behind her like a live thing, low and fast, trying to take the captain’s legs out from under her.
It wasn’t clean. It wasn’t even likely to land. But it was fast — the kind of movement that came from instinct, not training — and the look on her face was pure, electric joy.
“Overextending this?” she called mid-swing, voice breathless but bright, laughing even as she fought.
If she missed again, it wouldn’t be defeat that burned through her, it’d be excitement.
The frustrated comments were more compliment than offense, amusement flickering through her eyes as Thal watched the woman fall and get back up again. She admired the determination, the fire that she often felt. It was like fighting a reflection of her younger self, the movements all instinct and no caution, thinking she could be untouched by the world until it punched her in the gut.
Her eyes caught the movement around them, aware that a few sailors were lingering from their work to watch. She flashed them a seething look just as the woman was fainting to use her tail to trip Thal. It was absurd enough to certainly take her by surprise, but she doubted the force would be do more than sting against her leg - and she didn't like the idea of having a welt later.
She smiled at the rhetorical question, her fangs peeking through the expression of sharp delight. "No. That's just stupid. You leave yourself vulnerable." Snapping her hand out, she grabbed the appendage before it could hit, not harsh but firm, a dangerous glint entering her eyes as she gave the tiniest of tugs, just enough to hint at the pain she could render from her new vantage point - and the mistake that had been made. She cocked her head, all predator and ruthless experience. "And vulnerable gets you killed." Then she slid her foot out again, planning to take the woman's feet out from under her one last time.
10-31-2025, 10:01 AM (This post was last modified: 10-31-2025, 10:02 AM by Zairah.)
Zairah
I had a dream, which was not all a dream... The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars Did wander darkling in the eternal space, Rayless, and pathless..
The captain’s grip on her tail sent a bright flash of heat up Zairah’s spine — pain, warning, maybe a little thrill. She stiffened, but she didn’t fight the hold. Not yet.
Thalassa’s words hit, cold and clean: Vulnerable gets you killed.
Zairah’s jaw clenched. She’d heard enough sermons about what gets you killed. She was starting to feel the rhythm of this woman — the way every lesson ended with her hitting the ground. And when Thalassa shifted her weight, sliding that clever foot forward, Zairah’s body moved before her mind caught up.
Not clever. Just tired of falling.
She twisted her hips, yanked her tail free in the same heartbeat her own boot swept forward. The captain’s foot came sliding in for the trip, but this time Zairah’s heel caught it—hooked, hard—and pulled.
It was all momentum and nerve, but the energy snapped through the space between them.
Not wanting to yank the woman's tail out, Thal let the appendage slip through her fingers, already preparing for the counter attack. Her foot still whipped forward, ready to put her opponent on the deck again. However, she felt the resistance, the pressure building as it threatened to take her balance in exchange for every prior attack. It was a pleasant surprise that nearly had her laughing.
Containing her amusement, she darted out of the hold, straightening as she began to walk slowly around the woman. Crystal blue eyes scanned, assessing and finding approval in the small progress made. Her tail flicked, content as she gave a tilt of her chin, rimmed with a grin. "Hm. Better."
"Cap'n!" flowed across the deck, followed by a series of questions about the supplies for the warehouse, drawing her attention away. Thal nodded her head, already moving to address the problems and her crew. She only paused to turn, offering another cool, analyzing gaze before saying, "Feel free to stick around a little longer, although we'll put you straight back to work. But if the men give you trouble, let them know Captain Thalassa hired you."
I had a dream, which was not all a dream... The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars Did wander darkling in the eternal space, Rayless, and pathless..
Zairah stood there, chest heaving, the ghost of a grin still cutting across her face. Her tail flicked once—less like a threat now, more like punctuation—before settling into a slow sway behind her. She’d half expected Thalassa to strike again, to push until one of them bled or broke, but instead the captain only circled her like a wolf appraising the cub that finally bit back.
The word better landed like a medal. Small, sharp, and earned.
Zairah straightened her coat and tried not to look too proud, but the faint quirk at the corner of her mouth gave her away. “Better,” she echoed under her breath, testing the sound like she might keep it for later.
When one of the sailors called out, the tension on the deck broke like a wave. The captain was already moving—command sliding back over her like armor—and Zairah watched her go, the blue of her horns catching in the gray light, the weight of her authority cutting through the noise of men and gulls alike.
Captain Thalassa.
It felt like a name with edges, something worthwhile to remember.
At the captain’s final words, Zairah blinked, caught off guard by the offer. “You’re hiring me?” she asked, half in disbelief, half amused. But Thalassa was already gone to bark orders, and the only answer she got was the rough rhythm of the crew resuming their work.
Zairah huffed a laugh to herself, brushing windblown hair from her eyes. “Guess that’s a yes.”
She turned toward the stack of crates again, flexing sore fingers, testing her weight on her still-stinging legs. Her body had new aches and pains, but it was a good pain; the kind that said she’d endured something and come out stronger for it.
“Captain Thalassa hired me,” she murmured, letting the words roll off her tongue with a little grin. “Hear that?” she called to a nearby sailor, voice light, teasing. “So unless you wanna get your ass beat, help me with this one.”
The man blinked, then laughed, and for the first time since stepping off the riverboat, Zairah felt like she belonged to the noise and the work and the cold air that stung her lungs.
By the time Thalassa looked back, Zairah was already bent over another crate, stubbornly trying to lift it again.
