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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!
After the lovely chaos of the party and some much-needed downtime in Stormbreak, Thal gathers her crew and heads home to the Grounds. Longheat is quickly coming to an end, and the window for taking advantage of the tourist season is closing. Trips between the cities are spent on membranous wings soaring above The Marauder, eyes peeled for prospective sources of income. On this particular sail, she'd noted a frigate setting low in the tide, a spattering of soft-handed, bright-eyed innocents on board that they were more than happy to hand over their goods to avoid incurring the wrath of the blood-thirsty captain with dark scales and glowing eyes. For their cooperation, she'd left them with beating hearts and an intact ship while she floated on her merry way to Jack Tar.
When they arrive laden with coin and jewels, Thal sets her men to work offloading the supplies and restocking for their next run. They planned to be in port for only a night - grunts and sweat-slick brows telling of the efforts to meet the short timeline - so the young Ancient doesn't make an effort to cozy up in her Levinsward abode for the night, instead choosing to spend her time side-by-side with the others, lifting and pushing crates and boxes and barrels across the salt coated docks and decks. Spook does his best to avoid her, knowing that she's not happy with how he'd performed during the last raid, but what kind of special idiot tells the crew to unfurl the main mast in the middle of looting? They'd nearly blown past the other ship before the men were able to get the sails contained again.
Snapping an order at a lagging young deckhand, Thal flicks her tail and turns pointedly to grasp at her nearby flask, taking a deep sip of rum to refuel her dwindling energy after hours of work. She props a hand on her hip, glancing around at the bustling port in a moment of reprieve. In her sweeping gaze, she catches a familiar face that sends any signs of exhaustion fleeing for the hills, her fanged grin splitting across the flush of her skin. "Asta." There's no need for her to shout in the space, her voice carrying with the lingering authority, even as it softens with affection for the Butcher.
Thal adjusts the blacks rolls of her sleeves and tilts her head to scan him for signs of new injury or struggle. "What brings you out this way?"
reaching for a book of matches strike a light and then you'll see the real mess that i am
Needless to say, the butcher is pleased with the result of the desert excursion. But since then, it also means home and home was to greet and adore the Maverick until it was time for their next venture to the Feverlands. But its with a plan in mind that the butcher slips off the sky ship and steps down the dock - dressed down for the potential fight, he wears a pale fitted shirt (enough that the ripple of bandages can be seen under them), no waistcoat as per doctor’s orders, dark pants, sand dusted boots, and his hair brushed back and tucked in behind his horns. The cane clicks against the wood of the dock as he spots the Marauder. A glance back to the path toward the wagon that would take him home, before the butcher’s diverting his course.
Arriving precisely as Thalassa’s snapping an order at a young deckhand, Asta flashes his shark-tooth smile toward Spook with a quiet nod, before he’s heading directly to the ruthless Captain. “Thalassa, darling.” Comes the hum of greeting, drifting closer to her and giving her a subtle but long look to ensure she’d made it out of the pool party unscathed, a subconscious mimicry of what she’s already doing to him.
Except she’d likely find the bandage wrapped around his chest, bunched awkwardly beneath the shirt that he has yet to readjust.
“I am heading home to see Danta.” He hums, his tone a touch more affectionate these days as he speaks of the Theocrat, before he continues. “I have just arrived from Hak Etme.” If the darkening of his already olive hued skin was anything to go by, it’s clear the desert left him with an even deeper sun-kissed tan. "I see you have just arrived as well?"
Astaroth
i swear it's nothing personal - i swear it's nothing personal //////
She certainly takes note of the bandages, the brightness of her eyes darkening like a brewing storm. He always seems to be injured when she sees him nowadays, and Thal wonders if she should check in on the man more; Asta appears to have a habit of attracting trouble when she's not around.
Leaving the thought for later, Thal tilts her head at the information, the movement revealing the yellow-green bruising that's begun to fade around her left eye. Hak Etme... she wonders if that was the shift she'd felt. Was it still infected? And more importantly, was Asta actively fighting against the Family?
Thal doesn't know what she'd do if she had to face him, and she doesn't like the fact that she'd even consider it - or worse, the fact that she knows exactly what she'd have to do. It's an unsettling thought that momentarily wars inside her soul, grappling for purchase, for reason.
But ultimately, a soothing violet reassurance reminds her that the time hasn't come, and it may never if she has anything to say about it. So Thal gives a silent nod of her head at the information, choosing instead to answer his question, "Yes, although we're off again in the morning."
A shift in topic seems safe, and she returns to her previous anger with unsurprising ease. "Tell me, do I need to kill anyone for that?" Her fingers raise to indicate the bandages, a deadly glint in her eyes despite the teasing tone and sharp fanged grin.
reaching for a book of matches strike a light and then you'll see the real mess that i am
At times, taking the knife through the ribs was better than any alternative. It just so happened to be the case for the bandages that are wrapped around him, ready to be taken off within the next few days. An event he looks forward to, if he’s being honest, because gods if he doesn’t miss portraying his usually fine clothed self rather than the loose but still tight cotton shirt he wears.
As he scans her, though, he spots the yellowing of the bruise around her eye — quietly grateful that’s the worst of it. He’s made a mental note of Noah, though, and there’s a flicker of his shadow rolling from his shoulders at the thought when he nods his horned head and flashes his sharp smile back at her. “All work and no play, mm?” Comes the playful tease.
Though he spots her anger, flashing her an easier smile as he shakes his head, drifting closer along the dock to her side to nudge her with his elbow. “No,” he chuckles lightly. “It is entirely handled.” With the distinct addition of not sleeping with blades in the bed just in case Danta’s nightmares come back. “And you, darling? Healing well?” He bends toward her as his tail flicks behind him, inspecting her face like an obnoxious brother might.
Astaroth
i swear it's nothing personal - i swear it's nothing personal //////
At first it’s a murmur, then a symphony. Voices all out with laughter and conversation. As you look around the voices change to cries, screams. The words ‘Sparkbird’ and ‘Lady!’ call out in fearful tones. As a fin cuts through the water it becomes clear. You’ve just heard the fall of the Hollowed Grounds to the Sparkbird, recorded by the voices of passing Echo sharks. Good luck sleeping tonight.
You’ve encountered a pack of echo sharks. This counts as a common creature encounter for the purposes of levelling, but does not count as a Random Event for levelling or MP. There will be no further admin/re intervention. If you choose to follow this creature, you do so at your own risk, however, just having it in this thread is enough to satisfy your levelling requirements.
Echo Shark (common) - A dwarf species of shark known for hunting in packs, the Echo Shark can live in both freshwater and saltwater. They are able to mimic any sound they’ve heard and band together to increase their range of vocals. The sharks use the words and sounds they’ve learned to lure unsuspecting prey into the water, where the sharks will then leap up and drag them into the waves.
Chuckling, she accepts the playful elbow nudge with a shrug of her shoulders. "Not when there's money to be made." Most pirates would agree that the best part of the job is that they get to terrorize people for loot, but they'd also agree that it's not for the faint of heart. Some days, they don't get breaks, especially when they have to capitalize on the seasons of opportunity.
Still inspecting the bandages that peek from his uncharacteristically loose shirt, Thal raises a suspicious eyebrow. Although she doesn't quite believe that whatever it is has been 'handled,' short of torturing him with questions, she get the sense she won't be getting any more information. So she gives a slow, dramatic nod of her head as she hums her doubts. "Mmm. I guess I'll have to take your word for it."
She waves her hand in front of her face to ward off the invasive inspection, rolling her eyes. The movement looks sharper with the backdrop of creepy yellow-green, but she thinks it adds to her charm. "Oh this? It's nothing. I've had much worse." Stab wounds, crush injuries, concussions, the whole lot. Comes with the profession.
Her hand hovers suggestively over her dagger, her fanged grin making its usual appearance. "Plus, I managed to draw some blood on him before he ran off." She's about to say more disparaging comments about the man, but Thal tilts her head as they're interrupted by the tell-tale screams of echo sharks. They don't bother her, yet she prefers not to have them be the backdrop to their friendly conversation.
Standing, she gestures to the gangway with a smirk and a quirked eyebrow. "Do you have time for a drink?"
reaching for a book of matches strike a light and then you'll see the real mess that i am
“The same could be said about a great many things.” He hums playfully, flashing her his shark toothed grin before he explains that whatever had given him the wound that’s mostly healed by now. She’s right in assuming that he won’t share much more information than that - because he’s definitely in the business of keeping his own private affairs exactly that. So the shift in subject is easy, focused as he returns it onto her and the roll of her eyes, nothing more than an annoying older brother.
A low chuckle of his approval is interrupted by the echo sharks, even if the screams and cries aren’t anything that ward him away like it does the others lingering on the docks of Jack Tar. “Good. And yes, as it turns out, the next wagon will be leaving likely in about forty-five minutes.” Enough for a drink or two, depending on how quickly he’s able to down them. Though, knowing her tastes, there would be plenty that would be easy enough to toss back. That is, of course, if she wanted to indulge in the spoils on her ship.
Extending the elbow that had nudged her toward her if she wished to take it, he turns with the click of his boots. “On your ship or one of the bars here, darling?” He asks curiously.
Astaroth
i swear it's nothing personal - i swear it's nothing personal //////
Thal takes in the information with her usual analytical mind, nodding her head as she glances around. The large number of eyes on them means she doesn't accept his offered arm, but she grants him a teasing grin in the process, hopping to her feet as she leads him towards the gangway up to The Marauder's deck. "The bars around here only have the cheap stuff, and if you only have forty-five minutes, I don't want to waste your time with the watered-down ale." That was the stuff meant for rowdy sailors and nightly drunkards, not friends enjoying each other's company. She has plenty of options in her cabin, including a particular Halovian whiskey if he's feeling in the mood.
The crew is still hard at work when she passes, and Thal snaps a finger at Spook who nearly leaps in the air at the sound, rushing to her side. "Thirty minutes. Tell the crew to get some food. I don't need them collapsing." She'll leave him to tell the others, not needing the men thinking that she's going soft or anything. They still have too much work to do before night falls and she expects them to work diligently.
Her boots clop against the wood and her tail flicks when she leads Asta across the deck, causing the men's spines to tighten, a heavy sense of awareness passing over them. She doesn't have to look at them to know what each and every one is doing, and they know that she has an uncanny ability to spot their errors without needing her eyes. Even when Spook calls out for a break, they continue to work cautiously until the door of her cabin closes behind her and her guest.
She glides across the familiar room, the desk scattered with maps and daggers, the small bed tucked into the alcove of the wall, the chest slid under the windows that make up the back, and ultimately the railed shelf filled with bottles of various alcohols. Her fingers glide over the labels as her tail flicks to one of the desk chairs. "What are you in the mood for? Anything in particular?"
reaching for a book of matches strike a light and then you'll see the real mess that i am
He’d half expected such, his arm flattening to his side as he follows her up the gangway toward the deck, snorting softly with that same shark tooth smile plastered to his face as he nods. “That is fair.” He hums softly, pleased either way because he’s sure she’s got plenty of good liquor in her room.
He’s silent as she speaks to Spook, flashing the first mate his usual sharp grin before he’s scurrying off and Asta trails after Thal, having zero qualms in watching her crew work on eggshells until they’re confined within the space of her cabin.
Having no problem essentially making himself at home for the next half hour, the butcher’s cane is placed to rest against the doorframe of the cabin, drifting in to claim one of the chairs. “Mm, whiskey or rum sound lovely.” Whichever she’d prefer – she doesn’t have to pull out anything super fancy if she doesn’t want to.
As he settles, his tail sweeps around his leg as he crosses one over the other, leaning back contently to subtly scan her room, taking note of the maps and daggers, plucking one from the desk to admire the sharp edge that glints in the low light. “This is quite beautifully crafted. Wherever did you find this?” He asks, casting his sharp grin up toward her with a raised brow.
Astaroth
i swear it's nothing personal - i swear it's nothing personal //////
Nodding her head, Thal debates between a few options before finally settling on a curvy brown bottle with a glistening white wax seal over the cork. She spins easily on her heels, snagging two glasses with the movement before setting them on the desk with a soft clink and a slightest optimistic expression. "Found this sweet white rum in the Greatwood but haven't had a chance to try it." Which means that if it doesn't taste good, it's not her fault.
Thal tears into the wax and pops the cork as she glances to the dagger Asta holds, the one she'd spent hours polishing and sharpening after it'd been procured from the bottom of the ocean. Raising an amused brow, she pours a generous portion into each glass. "That particular one was from a chest that a merfolk pulled up." She laughs, offering Asta his rum-filled glass with a wicked grin. "I traded them my steak dinner for it." Not a fair trade if you ask her, but they'd seemed happy enough.
Her bottom hits her chair and her booted feet lift to rest on the table, glass dangling from her fingers as she asks, "Any other adventures planned after you see Danta?"
reaching for a book of matches strike a light and then you'll see the real mess that i am
“Always happy to be the guinea pig for your found liquors, darling.” Asta confirms, pausing in his inspection to flash a wink her way, before its returning to both the dagger and the bottle of white rum as the wax is cracked under her attentive fingers. She’s pouring while he sits back and inspects the blade he’s plucked from the table, though, and when she speaks he sets the dagger down to snag the glass she’s filled for himself.
“Ooh, we do love a good exploitation.” The butcher chuckles, lifting the glass to his nose first to take a small whiff of the sweet rum. He scents vanilla and hints of lime, a refreshing kind of tone with maybe a hint of coconut amongst the mix. And once she sits and gets comfortable does Asta make a little toast motion with his glass, before taking a sip.
It’s precisely as he thought – refreshing in the way that rum often wasn’t, though that could be because it was a white rum. It hasn’t aged as much as the rest of the ones he was used to tasting. And he hums pleasantly as he swallows it down with a burning sensation that’s welcome when he focuses back on her question, his smile twisting a touch sharper and playful. “He and I are to go and see the Hanging Tree.” A perfect date night, if he had any idea of what the name might include.
Turns out, he won’t be disappointed, either. But the butcher’s grin is bright as he takes another sip and spins the glass in his fingers after as he lets it burn the way down his throat. “Then after that, I suppose it will be wherever our chaos guides us.” To the Greatwood in search of flowers, though he knows better than to tell her that.
Astaroth
i swear it's nothing personal - i swear it's nothing personal //////
She chuckles through the slight budding of a thorny memory that the endearing term still brings forth, pouring and offering the glass. "Good to hear." As much as she loves the Halovian whiskey, they can't always drink the same thing, and it's not exactly an easy procurement for Ancients.
Her glass lifts to join his in a toast before redirecting to her lips, the scent reminding her of warm Longheat sunlight heating the remnants of some tropical drink, splashing her tongue in bright flavors of fun. It's a little 'young' for her liking, somehow reminiscent of girlish laughter and beach days rather than bitter brooding and burning flames. She doesn't mind it, so she shrugs her shoulders and lets the conversation flow on without commenting.
Pushing some of the sweat-slick strands of dark hair from her forehead, Thal raises a curious brow and hums thoughtfully at the plans, a touch of distaste in the curve of her lips. "Hmm. Sounds interesting. Why the Hanging Tree?" She recalls that her one trip out there had been less than enjoyable, winding up walloped by a sentient branch then wallowing in self-pity about Maea's 'death.' Luckily, Hadama had followed her, but it's not someplace she'd like to visit again.
reaching for a book of matches strike a light and then you'll see the real mess that i am
It is lovely, in a youthful way that the butcher only seems to feel on the days he allows himself to be reckless - typically in Torchline, almost always on vacation, where he doesn’t have to worry about his reputation. Like a little sweet taste of summer, golden and refreshing and hopeful. It’s a good sendoff, set in the right light as he looks forward to going home without a new scratch on him while facing the void leviathan land shark.
As he settles, shadows curl around his shoulders, lying in wait until the butcher moves next to peer at her with his traditional grin, half hidden behind the glass. The shadow forms against the back wall, a smile lingering in the cut out portion of it as it peers at Thalassa just as it had before. “A quest Danta received. I do not know the specifics, but the second he mentioned the Hanging Tree I was quite intrigued.” He does know the specifics of the quest, but given Thalassa’s fondness for the shade of violet, he finds it less important to mention.
At least he sells it well, the indifference to whatever item Danta was to receive. “Have you been?” He asks curiously, head tilting as his shadow mirrors the movement - only the opposite way.
Astaroth
i swear it's nothing personal - i swear it's nothing personal //////
The movements of his shadow are so characteristic of Asta that she doesn't even look at one or the other. When the darkness smiles at her, Thal smiles back, a small quirk of her lips that she blocks with the glass she tips. An amused grunt follows, already giving away her opinion about the tree and her time visiting.
Lowering her rum, she tips her chair back in a way that suggests the furniture spends more time in that position than upright. "Once. I'd been helping to fight the Void and nearly died getting slammed into the ground by a tree." 'Rightfully so,' she might add, but Thal keeps that little bit to herself. It's still not an fun experience that she'd recommend to people, and she gives Asta a humorless smirk along with a light shrug. "It wasn't my proudest moment." For multiple reasons.
As if in reminder of all her other sour memories in the Feverlands, Thal hums thoughtfully, her eyes narrowing as she glances away, making the yellowish bruise darken to something creepy and cautionary. "There's also the matter of the lamplighters in the area. Pain in the ass to fight." Not that she wants him getting into a fight with one. Asta barely manages to go a week without new injuries.
Grinning sharply, she lifts her glass to her lips in a threatening manner. "If you come back with another wound after this trip, I might have to start wrapping you in padding or hiring a babysitter." Not that she'd trust anyone enough, but she lets the tease ring, her fangs daring him to find out how far she'll go.
