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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.
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03-15-2025, 11:41 PM (This post was last modified: 03-15-2025, 11:48 PM by Maea.)
Maea
And I never know what to say
'Til I'm already walking away
Morning dawned golden and fresh upon the Greatwood. A rosy blush dyed the treetops where new leaves budded, their green a fresh and optimistic hue characteristic of the spring season. A cool mist crept among the paths of the silvan town where many still slept nestled into fyra and blankets, safe and warm and for the moment without a care in the world.
A wraith drew past their treetop houses, haunting the streets in search of the training grounds. The path kept twisting under her feet, spitting her back to the outskirt of the settled area as if the Sidhe Village itself was trying her resolve to remain in the woodland realm. An hour and a half they'd been at this, and it was definitely testing Maea's patience, if not her conviction. The Ancient woman was stubborn, and in dire need of a workout.
"Please, I just want to train," she pleaded, not sure to whom. The path, the village, the gods or the forest itself? To her surprise, it worked. Just like when Remi had shown the way the other day, the light seemed to fall onto the path slightly different, and suddenly she could see the roped off area with its trampled ground and well worn training dummies in the periphery of her vision. Mumbling a quiet 'thank you' to whomever had opened the way, she hurried to reach it before that unseen something changed its mind.
At least she was warmed up. Making a point of stretching anyway, Maea was glad for the new clothes that let her move with ease. In a dark shirt of a faded black - or was it blue? purple, maybe? - and black leather trousers that creaked softly as she moved, she felt comfortable enough to try some movements made impractical and downright indecent in a skirt. Slowly sinking into splits, then raising herself in a handstand to repeat the motions, it was pleasing to feel the strength of her body respond to any thought or whim; the extended break from training over the past few seasons hadn't been completely undone.
The Greatwood had not, traditionally, given Hadama much trouble. Perhaps because he primarily traveled via the streams and rivers that crossed so much of it rather than the paths between the waterways, where shifting roots and branches could so easily obscure and mislead the paths. Or perhaps because he had once held friendship with Phoebe, demigoddess of Frey and leader of the Greatwood until her most recent disappearance.
That did not mean that it responded to him, however. Or that he was completely safe upon the ground paths when he chose to travel on two legs instead of his own trusted fins.
This morning, for instance, he had been seeking to leave the Village and head towards the Crimson Cataract. Yet every path he took out of the Village seemed to twist back on itself, leading him right back in. Patient as ever, he continued to attempt it as golden light bled through the young green of new leaves and the woods awoke to Flowerbirth.
The next time the path shifted ahead of him it was into an area he had not been to before. The roped off grounds and training dummies made it clear what kind of place he had found and Hadama paused thoughtfully. Movement caught his eye, and he blinked, surprised to recognize the pale Ancient who was making use of the facility. "Maea," he rumbled, pleased to find a friend. "May I join you?"
Given the early hour but also the habits of guards and arms-masters, Maea had expected a few habitual fae practitioners on the field, but not Hadama. Observing his steady approach from her upside down perspective, she shot him a quick smile and gracefully lowered her feet back to the ground.
"Good morning. Be my guest. It looks like we have the place to ourself for now." Her voice was pitched low in the quiet, as though the drifting mist and somnolent chirrup of early birds shouldn't be interrupted. Truth be told, she hadn't slept much over the night; too many things had happened over the past few days and it all caught up in the quiet hours.
"Would you care to spar? It's been a while since we tried it..." Maea didn't think she had improved much since last time, but it was always interesting to test herself against stronger opponents. With Hadama, risk of causing serious harm was so low that the anxiety she'd felt when facing Thalassa barely registered beyond a light flutter of anticipation.
The leather trousers did, indeed, look good on her, but Hadama did not allow his gaze to linger. His own leather trousers with their hand-stitched silver stars were well-worn by now, comfortably broken in and supple enough to not squeak when he moved. He wore a loose-sleeved wrap shirt again today, similar to what he had worn when they had all met for lunch though in a lighter color of blue, and his long metallic steel hair was loosely braided back.
In short, he did not look as though he had come with the intention to train, but when Maea accepted his request he moved onto the packed dirt floor with a grateful nod and began to stretch his own thick muscles out.
"Indeed," he rumbled, a quiet undertone of pleasure in his voice as he pulled his arms across his chest to loosen his back and shoulder joints. "You asked for my assistance with it last season. To work on finding your limits. Improving your control. Would it be easier to do that as the attacker?"
Combat did not always occurr according to plan, hence Maea's overuse of her elegant gown. It was not usually what one wore in a sparring ring, and the absence of its sweeping skirts and soft velvet sleeves felt odd this morning, like she had misplaced a layer of skin. She would regret not wearing it later, once the bruises after this started to develop.
Scuffing her boots over the ground to test the footing, she nodded acceptance of Hadama's offer. "If I may. I've been meaning to ask your opinion on my bloodbane ability. How dangerous it feels, how best to time it... If it is alright with you, may I use it?" She grimaced lightly while bringing out her weapons. The chakram would see use today, though not, perhaps, on Hadama. "It won't be pleasant - we don't have to do it today." Or ever, really - Maea would prefer to never turn the power on anyone at all, ever again. Of course, then she would never grow, either. As far as gifts went, this one felt like a double edged one.
He tilted his head in thought at her proposal as he rolled out his wrists and then his neck. The morning was quite brisk, with Long heat still many weeks away, but he began to untuck the wrap shirt from his belt, slipping it off and taking a moment to fold it carefully before hanging it over a nearby fence post. His dark skin prickled at a playful breeze that blew across it, but he showed no outward expression of discomfort as he returned to stand across from Maea. "I am unfamiliar with bloodbane," he admitted, his voice a quiet rumble beneath the cheerful birdsong of the waking woods. His solemn acceptance of the work turned reassuring a moment later, however, aware that it was not easy for Maea, either, to turn her power on a friend. "But I am willing. I can heal myself if it goes too far."
Not that he thought that it would. For all of Maea's concerns about her bloodlust he trusted her contrrol over herself and her Ancient abilities. Now more than ever, when she was paying such close attention to what they could do. He offered her a smile, small but warm, and then gestured for her to begin.
For his own preparations, he allowed his breathing to grow deeper, slower. Let his mind still and grow calm. If he could not block her power physically, he intended to try and resist it on a more spiritual level. Or at least, to maintain his stoic mien in the face of the challenge to come.
03-17-2025, 09:08 AM (This post was last modified: 03-17-2025, 09:12 AM by Maea.)
Maea
And I never know what to say
'Til I'm already walking away
It would not go too far. Maea wouldn't let it. If there was any danger at all, either to herself or Hadama, this 'spar' would end before either of them could say Enough. Even with his consent, even knowing that his endurance and strength was remarkable, her own powers... they frightened her. After all, she'd died by them less than a year ago.
"Please do so. And stop me if you need to. Here we go, then..."
Sucking in several steadying breaths to amp herself up, Maea began by setting herself in motion. Walking in a wide circle around the Tidebreaker to force him to turn or show his back to her, she set one chakram in motion as well. It spun around her finger, the sharp edge gleaming a scalding red - its twin held at the ready by Maea's tail - and without much preamble she brought it towards her own forearm.
The blade was sharp, and bit well. As blood welled up to spill over alabaster skin, the Ancient's eyes turned black as night when she drew on the dark energy, pushing past the pain to wield it as a sword. It filled her with all the hungry delights of the bloodlust, heightened every shadowed cruel tendency she'd ever leaned into, and when she turned that surging power on her friend, for a moment the petite, innocent looking young woman thrilled at the possibility of seeing him bend like a wax candle before her flame.
The shame, the guilt, the horror of what she was doing - all of that would only set in later, when the damage had already been done.
------
Maea: 245/270 HP
Bloodbane (basic) | Can injure themselves for basic damage to weaken others at an upgraded level with a range of 10ft.
He turned slowly to follow her prowling, standing straight but relaxed, ready to react whenever she made her move. The king allowed himself the flicker of a wince when the chakram she spun in a sizzling circle around her finger sliced into her own flesh. He did not look away, however, and so he saw the moment her eyes turned black and something wild and wicked rose in them along with a surge of power that struck deep within his own veins.
It was... unpleasant.
Knowing that it would only hurt Maea more after the spar was over was no comfort at all, so Hadama focused on keeping his expression still even as thin lines opened across the bare skin of his forearms, crimson fluid beading along each.
His attempt to block her magic with his resolve had proven ineffectual, so this time he partially shifted, letting his hippocampus scales ripple out over his skin in a layer of living armor to attempt a more physical barrier.
And he inclined his head to the Ancient across from him in a beckoning gesture. "Is that your full strength?"
They were both bleeding now. A grim, wild smile slashed across Maea's face as she caught the coppery scent. Her stomach clenched, hunger rising like bile in her gorge to remind her that a single sweet-faced doe would never be enough to erase the predator in her. With bloodlust surging, it took some effort to recall that this was a spar, a test, a lesson in self-control - though it was a good fucking thing that Hadama could end this whenever he wished.
The darkness faded from her eyes as the gathered energy was spent to the last drop. His question - the taunt - drew a bark of laughter from the woman, her tail thrashing. "No, that was only at a basic level. Nasty, right? Now feel this!"
Pain flared up as she brought the sharp blade back to her arm. Not merely a quick slice this time, she gouged the edge through her flesh, carving errant patterns until the surging power of the sacrifice hit a new threshold. Crimson dribbled from the mangled arm, splattering onto the ground; this time her veins darkened too along with her eyes, bruising the pale skin as blood was traded for power - dark, lovely, delicious power that she hurled at Hadama with gleeful abandon, eager (and dreading) to see how it would further weaken him.
-----
Bloodbane (upgraded) | Can injure themselves for upgraded damage to weaken others at a mastered level with a range of 20ft.
This was a side of Maea that he had not seen before, though she had warned him more than once about the shadows that coiled beneath her surface now. Still, he did not shy away from it. "Mmh. It is... inconvenient," he admitted gravely, inclining his head in acknowledgment of her ability's unpleasant effects.
Again she drove her weapon into her own flesh and this time Hadama allowed his lips to twitch into a flicker of a frown. A dangerous ability, to trade blood for blood. He barely needed to spare a thought for just how deadly it could be for the wielder. He did not need to be a demigod to sense the difference between them, or how easily she could bleed herself dry before she truly endangered him.
And as she used it a second time, flensing skin and muscle in a self-destructive frenzy, he could see how using it changed her. Made her more reckless. Less able to sense her own limits.
He frowned again even before the knives of her power struck deep, bypassing his scales as if they weren't there and carving beneath his skin. Fresh lines of scarlet opened, splitting wider as his golden tattoos became streaked with red, and this time he exhaled a quiet grunt as the pain tested his control. Tested... but did not break it. He kept his calm gaze on the wild woman across from him and deliberately let the scales absorb back into his skin.
And he took a deliberate step towards her, bicep flexing as he activated his Starmour and the pale feathers cascaded over his chest and back, hiding the wounds she had opened in his flesh and attempting a different type of defense. "Better," he admitted grudgingly. "But will you have an arm left to defend yourself with when I reach you?"
Hadama: 660/740
"I'm glad you noticed," Maea smirked, all sharp teeth and coiling pleasure as Hadama expressed his discomfort. The injuries she caused herself seemed insignificant with dark energy surging through her veins. When it faded she sagged from the loss of it, suddenly assailed by a faint throb behind the eyes. A taste of iron on her tongue drew a grimace to her face; sour, it could be shame or bile or just irritation that she seemed to be doing more damage to herself than to her opponent.
"Not a problem," she snapped, as Hadama threatened to approach by stepping towards her, "I've got two arms!" And for the third time Maea slashed into her flesh with throwing discs now stained with red, gasping as agony ripped through her senses. Curling in on herself as pressure built like a thunderstorm, once the power erupted from her and sped towards Hadama, the pale little woman had all but forgotten that this wasn't an actual fight, that he was not an enemy - that this was not supposed to feel good, or right, or fun.
But it did.
-----
Magic: Bloodbane | Can injure themselves for mastered damage to weaken others at a 1.5x their mastered level with a range of 30ft.
Type: Dark | Rank: Mastered
Sharp edges did not bother Hadama. The dark delight that she was taking in causing him pain, however little he allowed her to see, was of more concern. But he had invited her to push her limits, and he would not condemn her for doing as they had agreed. He could feel his wounds beneath his armor - no harmless scratches, but neither were they life-threatening - and he made the decision to allow the match to continue. She needed to know how far she was willing to go before she crossed a line with anyone less resilient than a demigod.
And so did he.
"Mmh. But only one arm is uninjured." His statement was calm, though the edges of his eyes tightened as she slashed the same arm again, mangling it dangerously. It would be difficult to heal her in a single burst of moonlit mist, and if she continued--
Her bloodbane struck deep, and even though he was braced for it the shock of the pain stole his breath. His Starmour was no protection, granting no defense against the dark magic, but he was a King of the Mer and a demigod of Safrin and he did not falter or cry out. He flexed his fingers slowly into a fist and then relaxed them as he mastered himself and took another long stride towards the Ancient, closing the distance between them with a slow but steady inevitability.
The bulk of him swam in her vision, a looming obstacle in her path so gloriously irritating in his power that she wanted nothing more than to bring him to his knees. Triggered by the dark powers, her bloodlust was an infected rash beneath her skin, whispering of grim delights to be had as blood flowed and skin rent open, and not so very deep down a hungry something was stirring. Something vast and dark and scaly, still asleep but nearer to the surface now than it had ever been before.
What would she do? Her arm was useless dangling by her side. Devastating it even further was pointless - it took too long to achieve the required level of pain. The slow, sultry smile that spread over her face was entirely wicked as she set one chakram in motion around her finger, scattering crimson all around - and aimed it with brutal lack of care towards her own gut, where she imagined it would cut deep and release yet more of that sweet, revolting thrill of power she simply couldn't get enough of.
He did not raise his voice, but the rumble of his words was deeper than usual, a hard roll of thunder through the training grounds. He had found the limit of what he was willing to watch her do to herself, even though she did not seem to have realized the line she had crossed. As the chakram cut towards her own stomach he moved with the swiftness of a striking seasnake, glad that he had closed the distance between them earlier.
He was no martyr, to place his own flesh between her blade and herself. His strength was a privilege he did not hesitate to use as he aimed for her wrist instead, intending to stop the hand that wielded the weapon by grabbing it.
And lifting it high over her head. Lifting her, if his grab was successful, and hauling her off the ground at arm's length as moonlit mist rose around them both, bright and healing regardless of whether his intervention had worked.
Even if he could not stop her, he could still heal more damage than she could cause herself. And his mist could do more than just heal - it could twist fate, just a little, so that even if she evaded his hand she might still slip and miss her attack on herself.
He would accept either outcome as preferable to watching her spill her intestines in the dirt.
"We are done."
Magic: Turn the Tide | Can cause a moonlit mist to rise in a 30 ft radius that heals allies while causing enemies to roll with disadvantage for one round. Has a 2 post cool-down between uses.
Type: Light | Rank: Mastered
