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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!
I've done nothing wrong Except for all the atrocities
With a designated time and place to meet up with Koa, Melita remained entirely unaware of all the trivialities that had transpired between the Dragoon and her almost-cousin/friend. Which, to be fair, was how she lived her life most of the time anyway – in between blissfully ignorant or purposefully obtuse.
So she’d flown her own skyboat up there, thank youuuu, and parked it amidst the others before heading towards the RiGhTeOuS ClImB, which to her sounded like an excuse to be pretentious asshats again. Huffing a little and rolling her eyes at the display, she could warrant that the grand hilltops were pretty, but she didn’t feel any closer to deities. Seemed like a lot of fuckin grass and rocks. Clouds and fog too.
Figuring she’d be waiting on the Accepted, she began snagging at her supplies while Fangorn and Sila gave chase to one another, entirely unbothered by their surroundings.
Koa had sent Mel a simple invite: wanna break some shit? He hadn't been surprised to get an affirmative response, and had been even more pleasantly unsurprised when the answer was affirmative. No questions, no expectations. Just time to break some shit.
In this case, outwardly unassuming little ceramic balls.
He shows up with a wagon full of them, hauled along the road. If it weren't for his incredibly dour expression it might have been a comical motif - or maybe it's that much more comical, given how stony he looks. Coming up on the Honeybee without much greeting or fanfare, Koa offers a grim smile to his friend. "Ready to make a fucking mess?"
I've done nothing wrong Except for all the atrocities
Koa’s appearance didn’t harbor anything untoward; she wouldn’t have suspected him of a tumultuous breakup at all. Save for the stony face – because when she was about to fuck some shit up, she was an excitable demon.
Much like now, with a shit-eating grin and springs in her steps, floating right over to peer into the wagon, glancing at the ceramic balls. “Always,” she shrugged, as that was nothing new. “What’re we doing?” She could presume absolute destruction and mayhem – a bonus – but there might actually be a plan in place.
Whether she followed it or not was its own enigmatic quandary.
Though her head tilted vaguely, narrowing her brows slightly at him. “You all right?”
"We're hitting stuff." Pretty self-explanatory, right? "Here, take this." Sliding one of the bracers off, he offers it to Mel. Methodically he begins to unload the ceramic balls, placing them gingerly on the grassy ground. They're roughly hewn, and should Mel pick one up she may notice the telltale shifting weight of something filled with a thick liquid. They're about the right size to be held in a fist (maybe a little small for him).
They are, of course, to be thrown.
Having left her with half the clay-wrapped paintballs, Koa grabs the wagon handle and begins to set off down the path. Only her question has him pausing, stopping in his tracks. For a moment he freezes, his back still to her, tension squeezing his shoulders taut. A panicked laugh threatens to bubble out from the darkness that lurks inside him.
He forces himself to shrug instead. "Yup." An answer which screams 'no', but he's not gonna burden Mel with his shit.
When he's gotten an appropriate distance out, Koa turns around. "Alright. Throw one at me," the Dragoon instructs, starlit braced fist ready to swing.
I've done nothing wrong Except for all the atrocities
Melita’s brow arched at the simplistic plan – and then her eyes went back and forth over the things they’d be throwing and mauling. Taking the bracer, she put it on instinctively and without much thought; too distracted by the ceramics. Weighing it along in her hands, she pondered over what was inside – half-tempted to shake it but then wondering if the whole thing might explode in her palm (also amusing).
Not noticing his peculiar reaction – save for the affirmative no that had her gaze narrowing – she let it go for now. Were it somebody she knew better, she might’ve irritated and pressed. Koa seemed the type to hold it all in and pretend nothing was amiss; bottling along until something really set him off.
Hm. Keeping it in the back of her mind, she nodded. “All right.” Then she heaved the thing, strength and all, at the Dragoon.
He's glad she doesn't push it, because right now this is what he needs: stupid, messy destruction without any expectation except to hit things hard. To which end Koa gets himself ready, sharp eyes tracking Mel as she pulls her arm back for the throw. The demigod's strength being not inconsiderable, it shouldn't surprise Koa how fast the ball flies. Still, it's a very impressive arc, and it's only through luck that he manages to punch out at the right time, a translocated fist striking ten feet away.
Which is fortunate for his outfit. Because as the ceramic orb is hit with the invisible force it shatters, spewing its contents for all to see. Bright blue powder changed my mind from paint shh explodes through the air, a pretty cloud that's quickly swept away by an errant wind.
The game now revealed, Koa hurtles his own ball toward her, not waiting to see what she thinks. He's bad at aiming, and she needs help with fist-based combat, so he hopes it'll serve as a solid challenge for both parts of their pair.
I've done nothing wrong Except for all the atrocities
Her eyes widened as the powder burst through – thoroughly amused and wondering what they’d all look like wearing the stuff. “Oooh,” she gave on an enthusiastic smile. “Are they all filled with the same color?” Or was that part of the surprise?
Then of course she had to actually pay attention to the ball coming her way. Well accustomed to knives, the youth rarely had to use her fists – not when she had so many other weapons at her disposal. So it was with a great surprise that she swung back and landed, knuckles easing through the brief bout of pain.
To which the ceramic burst again, revealing that yes, they had been filled with different hues, and now she had bright pink all over her cheeks and the front of her dress. “Fun!” She snagged at one of her end, and launched it towards Koa again. She’d have to remember this – especially for potentially dropping them on unsuspecting market goers.
The explosion of pink is gratifying, as is the Honeybee's enthusiastic response. Koa can feel the edge of a smile threatening to curve against his lips; like a stubborn child committed to sulking he holds it off, but it's hard.
Instead he focuses his effort on hurtling another powder bomb, even as Mel's flies his way. It's a flurried scramble, to throw-and-also-block, and one he doesn't quite pull off. Never great at hand-eye-coordination, it is perhaps no surprise that his first swing misses. When Koa punches out again, the sphere is now in reach of his arms; it breaks on his knuckles in a spew of green, a single shark of sharp ceramic slicing against his cheek.
I've done nothing wrong Except for all the atrocities
Even if Koa was much too busy being broody, standoffish, and curt, Melita was content and having the time of her life. Already covered with pink powder, she watched as returned volleys became quicker and swifter, meaning she’d have to do much the same. As soon as she rallied and tossed hers, the Dragoon launched his; and with a well-executed punch to the ceramic ball, it cracked just enough.
This time it was a beautiful deep green hue blending over her clothing, and she laughed; thoroughly amused. Her eyes flickered back to see if Koa ended up doused too, but too far away to see any slice to his cheek.
And completely unconcerned with the potential of more injuries, the Honeybee snagged another. “Think fast!” She screeched, heaving it in a wide arc.
Throwing the balls. Blocking them. Not letting a smile crack his face. It's hard to focus on so many things at once, and Koa's mask is steadily slipping, worn down by the relentless way the Honeybee revels in the chaotic color spray. They're matching goblins in shades of green now, and Koa feels himself smile as Mel's laughter fills the summer air. Maybe things will be okay. Maybe he can just let go.
Well, no- not yet, because there are still ceramic balls to burst. Mel's screech cues him into the arrival of another; once more Koa primes a ten-foot swing, projected fists cracking the porcelain into a rose-red spray. This time he forces healing to the blow, the gash on his face knitting neatly up as vestiges of crimson paint join the blood upon his cheeks. "Gonna have to try harder than that!" the Dragoon calls, lobbing his own double volley back her way.
I've done nothing wrong Except for all the atrocities
Koa could be a pissy pants all he wanted; Melita was having a grand ol’ time. Though she did notice a cracked smile – which further inspired another bout of laughter and surprise as the double volley lobbed towards her. She might’ve had time to hit both if she wasn’t so perilously amused by her own nonsense – missing one entirely, and it dropped to the ground at her feet in an explosion of neon orange.
The other, however, she could maul and marr, punching through with demigod strength, but not the best precision. It teetered mid-air, dazzling in arrays of purple powder, coating over previous hues already allotted on her hands, face, and hair.
“You too!” She repeated in a proud and stupid boast, snagging at three, throwing and vaulting them in quick succession.
Orange and purple and a clear white grin do wonders to lift up Koa's heart. It's utterly distracting watching the chaos unfold from Mel, her unapologetic enthusiasm as contagious as a plague. And this time Koa doesn't try to bury down his grin, instead letting it carve its familiar path across his handsome face. It feels good to let things go, to release some of the broody nonsense he's held onto so tight these past few weeks.
Ah, but he's distracted enough that when Mel throws her three (three!) final spheres it's basically a lost cause. The first one he does swing at, but his coordination is off. And as that one erupts across his shoulder in a spray of silver, the next one is already pelting toward his head, and it's all over from there. Raising his arms to protect his face, Koa turns so that the silver-black-yellow spray mostly hits his back and side, a chaotic and vibrant display.
"Stop! I yield!" the boy laughs, raising his hands up in surrender. "You win! Have mercy, Zombee!" There's on his cheeks and, okay, yes, everywhere else, but it's the first time in quite some days he's genuinely felt happy.
I've done nothing wrong Except for all the atrocities
Melita could brood and sulk with the best of them – but if there was chaos and stupidity to be spread, that was far more encompassing and worthwhile than pouting. It seemed this fruition had eventually dawned on Koa too – she could see it a mile away – and so her Cheshire grin encompassed her features as well, along with the multitudes of colored powder.
Totally unbothered with strutting around the rest of Stormbreak just like this, she cackled as he yielded. Throwing her arms up in victory, she clamored with glee. “That was fun!” She wouldn’t even give him shit for calling her Zombee – this one time. She paraded over to return his bracers, which were now dotted in multiple colors. “Thanks. We’ll have to do this again.” And maybe they could drop them on unsuspecting merchants or something. The general public loved stupid shit like that.
And if anyone ever saw this oddly and spontaneously replicated in Torchline, maybe they’d know the source.
