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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!
Barely had the letter reached her before Maea took to the sky, dropping everything else she'd planned for this trip to the Grounds in favor of the summons. That's what it was, what it felt like. Like going to face down judgement, or perhaps seek the pardon of a queen. She'd done that before, and if she could take steps towards reconciliation with Flora, perhaps it wasn't impossible with Thalassa either. The will was there. Too many sleepless nights spent tossing and turning while going over their fighting words had shown Maea that she had been lying to herself for so long that by now she didn't even realize it. Saying she was fine when she wasn't, smiling out of habit, ruminating over what-if's and maybes until her feet took root and moored her in place. Unable to move forward. Unable to go back. Unable, it seemed, to do anything until someone clobbered her over the head with uncomfortable truths.
Now as she winged her way south in search of the Marauder and its captain, Maea kept checking her thoughts that tried to snap back into the defensive, cool posturing that had caused this mess in the first place. Some habits were hard to break, but as she angled in over the port and sought the familiar sails, Maea was determined to rid herself of this one in particular.
Landing on the dock before the ship, she shifted back to her ancient form and spared a moment to catch her breath, before calling out to request permission to board. Their trip together had taught her that much about naval customs; you wouldn't barge into someone's house without knocking, and you didn't board a ship without asking, unless it was to pick a fight.
And, honestly? She'd done enough of that to last a lifetime. Enough was enough.
The crew knew to expect the pale Ancient. They seemed just as enthusiastic as Thal, a quiet tension blanketing the ship as they went about their duties. Longheat was filled with days of cleaning and repairs while the nights were full of revelry and laughter. The breeze usually carried the tunes of those working, joyous conversations and relaxed song wrapping between rays of sunlight and salty scents, lifting her heart with every note. It made her all the more annoyed by its absence, but she couldn't say she blamed them.
Maea's letter had flared her anger, wondering how she was so easily able to flip between decisions. Thal had spent the better part of a week in relative discomfort, still trying to reassure herself that she wasn't the problem. Asta had helped considerably, and her meeting with Pierce had all but sealed the door on those emotions. After all, who needed friends like Maea when there were people who accepted her for who she was - all of her?
So her arrival was met with more apathy than excitement, Thal's heart sealed against whatever nonsense she may decide to spout. She'd been fooled multiple times, and she wouldn't - couldn't let Maea continue to play with her. Her face was carefully blank when she straightened from her place inspecting the rigging, running a bare arm over the sweat on her brow. Thal gave the thick-built sailor, Waylon, a permissive nod of her head. He then turned to the gangplank, his voice gruff as he said, "Cap'n says come 'board."
She didn't dismiss anyone, some of her crew choosing to lean against the railings, knowing that their captain would have said something if she didn't want them there. No, she wouldn't give Maea the comfort of privacy, and that meant that they were more than free to attend the show. Thal also wouldn't go easy on her by starting the conversation. She wanted to talk? She could talk.
Thal adjusted the roll of her black sleeves, propping on a crate like some make-shift throne on which she watched Maea approach, her expression giving away nothing.
Crossing the gangway was not unlike stepping onto hostile territory. The tension in the air was palpable, and eyes followed her as she crossed the deck and went up to where Thal was seated. Like an extention of their captain, influenced by her moods and loyalties, Maea did not doubt the argument was public knowledge among the crew by now, though the details likely remained a secret. For Astaroth's sake, not hers. That was fine. As she halted before the regal looking woman, Maea knew why she was given the silent treatment. It was more than her conflict with the Butcher that chafed between them, and it extended back a lot further than this particular argument.
For a while she simply looked at Thalassa, contemplating her options. Then she shrugged, and pulled her hands out of her pockets, holding them up for inspection. Otherwise smooth, ivory skin became puckered and wax like from the wrist, the entirety of both palms and fingers and the back of her hands looking like the skin had begun to melt, nearly sloughing off entirely.
"About ten years ago, I dated Sunjata. We broke up after only a season or so, but despite that I thought we had a chance to maybe repair things... Then I died, and he moved on. When the Voice brough a bunch of souls back from death as Ascended, I was one of them - a bargain I accepted, thinking there was something for me to return to." Speaking in a clear matter-of-fact tone, her gaze was trained on Thalassa, aware of the listening crew but disinterested in whatever satisfaction they might gain from eavesdropping. "As it turned out, I did not. He was married, and someone had used a dying message I wanted to give him as a way to blackmail him. It wasn't just that he was angry - he blamed me for dying and leaving him alone, and wanted nothing to do with me whatsoever." The unfairness of that still lit a fire in her head, infuriating as it was. Those matters were well and truly settled by now, but just thinking about it had her eyes flashing with a rare show of anger. "It fucking hurt. I'd sacrificed my allegiance to the Old Gods to get back to him, and he wouldn't even wish me welcome back? I wouldn't have it. So I made a plan. One that would force him to pay attention, whether he wanted to or not. Ascended fluid - our blood, basically - was highly flammable, so I tapped some of mine little by little until I had a decent stockpile. Then I picked a target. His husband at that time ran a small clinic, and I targeted that. Set it on fire." Her mouth quirked in a grimace, far from proud of what she'd done. "But, as I said... our blood was highly flammable. So when I handled fire, my hands became like this. And thanks to some very heroic Torchers, not only was the fire put out, but all of the patients were evacuated without anyone being harmed. Something I'm very grateful for, now."
Harrowing her bottom lip with sharp teeth, she eventually sighed, raking a hand through her hair. "That's who I am, when I stop caring. I become a coward, who'd take anger out on innocent people when things don't go my way instead of facing reality and moving on. I get obsessed with concepts, and with people, and dig my fingers into them until they break or bleed, because I'm afraid of being forgotten or left behind. Or, in the case of Jata, not being enough. And that," she said, breathing deeply as she finally reached the point of what she wanted to say, "is why I resist letting people close to me. I feel too much, too deeply, to the point where losing my people is like tearing pieces off my soul. It's scary, realizing what I would do just for a seat at someone's table. I don't... know how to keep doing that, how to keep starting over when someone always inevitably die or disappear. It's not a conscious decision to shut anyone out, at this point - it's become something I do automatically. Because I'm afraid, and struggle with trusting people around me with anything that could break. And... the whole thing with Asta, and Danta, and most of all the fight with you... made me realize that I can't keep going like this. I've got to change, or... as you said, I really will end up alone. Like a self-fulfilling prophecy."
She was talking too much again. Maea knew it, but also realised that she didn't have the skill with words to convey what she meant in a more elegant way. She could only count off the list of her debt towards her almost-sister on scarred fingers.
"I owe you another training session, a proper hunt, a sleepover at my house, several bottles of strong alcohol, food, two seasons of worry and angst, at least two daggers thrown into my door, help with numerous projects and a good grovel - and that's without accounting for the hurt I caused you by being so thick-headed last time. I... really don't think I should be forgiven for that. For making you feel like I would be better off without you. It... couldn't be further from the truth." Maea chewed anxiously the inside of her cheek – it sounded even worse to say it out loud like that. No wonder Thal was fed up.
"But. Even so, I would still like to ask you for the chance to repay all the kindness and support you have shown me, as I work on myself so I can become the kind of friend that you deserve. In whatever order you would prefer. If you will allow it." If there was any hope at all of mending this bridge between them before it was reduced to ashes.
As expected, Maea had a lot to say. Thal remained unmoving through the entirety of her speech, her face a mask of indifference. Most of the crew stood similarly, a silent judgement being passed on her as they took their cues from the Captain. When she gave no reaction, they followed suit, crossing arms and standing stiff against their posts. Even when the final words were said, the silence was a palpable thing, thicker than the heat that pressed against their skin. It seemed to have a presence of its own, daring anyone to break the power it held.
Thal was the only one who dared. After a poignant pause, she spoke, her voice flat as she leveled her gaze on Maea. "That's a great story, and those are a lot of pretty words." Crossing her legs, she leaned forward to rest an elbow on her knee. "I just wish I believed them."
The story had been moving, full of things to pity and relate to. If she'd heard it before, she might have felt those emotions, growing closer with the sharing of her past. But Thal had let the wound scab over, soothing the ache with other friendships that didn't make her question her worth, and she no longer found herself wanting to crack it open for someone who hadn't given her a good enough reason to. Not when Maea's history came off as a tactic to pull at her heart strings, when her 'determination to change' had already failed on multiple occasions, when she made it sounds like friendship should be an exchange rather than a relationship.
Her head tilted, casual and devoid of emotions as her tail flicked idly behind her. "Amongst pirates, our word is a binding contract." She didn't hide or soften the word, her sharp eyes scanning for a reaction as she continued, "Once we lose that, we're nothing. We're untrustworthy and lawless." A few sailors nodded their heads in agreement. They may be beyond the laws of Caido, but they had their own system of morals, ones that guided them in trades and thin alliances with each other. Breaking that word was like severing the only lifeline they had to the shore, somehow expecting someone to swing by and save them even when there was always the possibility they would get stabbed in the back.
That's how Thal felt, and she wasn't sure she wanted to live with the uncertainty of Maea's alignment. "Even doubt is a hard thing to overcome, and on the open sea, it can be deadly." Not being able to trust someone to take orders, to watch your back, to stand with you; it was something that made people hesitate, costing them their lives. She didn't take those kinds of risks.
"When we question a crewmember's loyalty, we give them two options: walk the plank and take their chances with the gods," if they happened to survive, she didn't interfere, but there was no coming back from such a decision, "or, they face the captain in combat. Winning - or surviving - earns them a second chance. Losing..." Her smile was wicked, letting Maea infer what the results of failure might be. (Hint hint: it's usually death.)
Leaning back on her hands, her smile vanished, replaced with the stoic expression of a seasoned captain. "I'll give you the same options: leave now or face me. Your choice." In other words, 'Prove to me how much this supposed 'friendship' means to you.'
If she had a single bad habit she'd be better off without, it was the need to explain herself. To justify her choices and actions, as if showing the road map to each event might grant her the understanding and acceptance she so desperately craved. Stemming from deep-seated insecurity and a fear of being overlooked, ignored, misunderstood - a sign of conflict aversion and difficulty in tolerating discomfort - it made her wrap defensiveness like a mantle around herself, like any kind of criticism needed to be fought off.
Even now it was a struggle to simply accept what Thalassa was saying without trying to smooth things over, or explain further - maybe if she just used a different phrase it would solve everything - but she bit her tongue. Breathed deep of the salt-sweet breeze, and sat with the sadness and disappointment until it no longer threatened to choke her.
"The past can't be changed," she eventually murmured, like a reminder to herself more than for Thal's benefit. "Whether it's ten years ago, or ten days... But I can change now. Make different choices. Do, and be, better." The only way out is through. Lifting her head, the glint in her eyes was determined, her jaw set with a decision. She'd come to face Thalassa, and that's what she would do.
She sat in silence as Maea mumbled to herself, half wanting to roll her eyes at whatever self-soothing nonsense she was spewing. No matter what it was, it wouldn't help her against Thal, and her crew knew that, content to sit out of the way as they conversed.
The final agreeance was met with a sharp grin. It wasn't that she wanted to fight Maea (hell, she hadn't even wanted to see her) but at least it was a chance to see how much the pale Ancient was willing to go to earn back some of the ground she'd lost. And if she got to inflict some damage in the meantime... Thal couldn't find it in her to care. She'd hurt her - multiple times.
Tapping her finger against the wood of the crate, she said the usual script, "All weapons, magics, and methods are allowed - although if you damage my ship, I will kill you regardless." 'In the most painful way possible' was excluded, but the glint in her eyes was implication enough. Doing a quick sweep of her crew, she let her gaze return to Maea, stubbornness and dangerous violence schooling her features. "No one is allowed to interfere, and it ends when one of us surrenders or dies." Her fangs peeked out as she smiled, daring the woman to back out now that she knew the clear risks.
Maea considered, then nodded. Rather than drawing a weapon, however, she undid the belt that held her chakram, shrugged her coat off the shoulders and folded it into a neat bundle. "I have no interest in dying again, nor do I want to kill you, whether intentionally or by accident," she replied, as she began to roll up dark sleeves, "You can fight however you wish; I'll settle for these," Holding up her fists, she was faintly aware of someone sniggering behind her. Was it old-school, sentimental and potentially life-threatening when facing an opponent like Thalassa? Sure. Letting 'fists do the talking' sounded like something out of a spaghetti western, all manly and gruff... but considering the deeply personal nature of their dispute, something told Maea it might do more to ease the tension than fancy tricks or comparing shifts like it was a simple dick-measuring contest.
Steeling herself for a gruelling and unfun battle, she cast a look around to get her bearings, noting any coils of rope, lines, tripping hazards or other obstacles to avoid. Ready to begin, she turned to face the captain, her most sincerely treasured and sorely mistreated friend, and put her fists up in a boxer's stance to accept her feelings, from the most trivial upset to the deepest of soul-crushing wound.
It was disappointing that Maea didn't want to participate in her 'dick-measuring contest,' and Thal rolled her eyes at the 'noble' manner of fighting she chose. It almost annoyed her more. "Fine, but I won't go any easier on you." Just to prove it, she didn't remove her own weapons, casually glancing down to fix the rolling of her sleeves as Maea stood there in her fighting stance. It only felt appropriate to make her wait, after all, she'd spent months waiting for her to return from the dead.
After a painfully long moment had passed and Thal was sure she was ready, without warning or any indication, she darted forward. One second she was sitting on the crate, and the next she was ducking in front of Maea, her fist rushing forward to punch the woman in the gut. It was too fast to be natural, the echo of shadows on her limbs the only sign of the magic she'd used.
05-07-2025, 09:18 AM (This post was last modified: 05-07-2025, 09:19 AM by Maea.)
The coldest blood runs through my veins
It was a comfortable stance, despite the setting and the prolonged wait. Enduring it with as much grace as she could, Maea spent the time confirming her resolve to see this through. That Thalassa seemed disinterested in the outcome of this match stung, and that would have to be part of the penance. The indifference was a result of fumbling too many times, and if being seen by the crew in this unfavourable light caused any humiliation, it was her own emotion to settle with and overcome. Calm... if this was what it felt like to embrace calm under pressure, then she just might be closer to achieving real change than she thought.
With so much time to ready herself, there was no way Maea would be caught unprepared when the attack finally came. Thalassa's fist connected with abs tightened to absorb the impact. A grunt from the pale woman acknowledged the impressive force behind it, and without hesitation she retaliated with a quick right hook to Thal's face. Putting her back into it, there was a grim determination behind the swing, that suggested it would take something extraordinary to make her surrender this fight.
Her fist connected with a satisfying grunt in return. A few sailors chuckled, lounging against the railings to enjoy the show. Thal grinned but didn't let herself get caught in the moment, only enough to feel the thrill of the fight. After all, one second of hesitation could cost everything, something she'd learned that through years of experience on the ship. It served her well as Maea's own punch came sailing towards her. At least it didn't look like the pale Ancient was holding back. Maybe she actually cared enough to try this time. Something to consider later.
For now, the woman was fast, and had she not already been preparing her next move, the captain might have earned a graze, possibly even a black eye. However, before the hook could land, Thal was vanishing into thin air again, appearing on Maea's other side with a shadowy puff that had her winking in and out of existence. She shot for the kidney this time, hard and fast with a twist of her hips.
Her fist plowed through the spot where Thalassa had been, and before Maea could recover, a blow to her side sent her staggering, air squeezed out of her lungs by a blinding agony that turned her legs to jelly. Unable to think or see properly, she tumbled around snapped a hand out, grabbing for Thalassa's tail to prevent her from vanishing again.
"Are you trying to kill me?" she gasped, fangs flashing as she tried to rally enough to drive a fist into the captain's gut. "If you want me to leave you alone, just say it." Maea wanted the friendship, but she wouldn't force her presence down Thal's throat. That kidney punch could kill if it hit hard enough - and for the first time Maea questioned whether a fight like this would ever solve anything. If Thal was that willing to cripple her... had Maea been right to take her threats seriously, after all?
The successful jab to the flank was more satisfying than Thal might have expected, and when Maea reeled from the impact, she couldn't help the grin on her face. Unlike when she'd accidently burnt Hadama or sliced Asta, there was almost no remorse in the application of pain. When she might care whether she hurt a friend, the pale Ancient wasn't exactly one of those right now, was she? And that was the whole message: If you don't want to accept all of me, you get to experience the worst of me. Thal had plenty of other people who had embraced her violence (including Pierce), and she didn't much care to beg for a friend who wouldn't.
Before she could twist and dart away again, Maea's hand was around her tail, sending a sharp, ripping pain up her spine. It felt like someone had sent a bolt of lightning up her body, making her go rigid with pain as she released a gasp. Her teeth came down in a snap as she let out a low growl. "I won't have to kill you if you just surrender." The words died with the punch to her gut that sent her jaw clenching even harder, but she didn't buckle, instead twisting so that she sent an elbow to Maea's face as she said, "And I'm pretty sure you're the one who keeps leaving, so why do I even need to ask?"
The elbow connected with her nose with a crunching sound, and suddenly Maea's mouth was full of her own blood. Reeling as the deck spun around her, she let go of the woman's tail with a rusty laugh. "Rich, cobig frob sobeone who levd be to bleed oud in dhe sand," Maea cut back, spitting out a globule of blood onto the deck. If they were comparing scars, she had her own collection inflicted by the actions of the pirate, but none of them kept her from calling Thalassa a friend. "Complain about my need to take time for myself after dying when you've been through it yourself. You said you'd have done anything to protect me, but in reality - when it counted - you did nothing."
Her eyes still watered from the throbbing pain in her nose, her side throbbing with every move she made. But surrendering was the furthest thing from her mind. Twisting around to face the captain, Maea made a grab for her neck and drove her knee upwards, between Thal's legs or into her gut, whichever she could reach. "Why don't you give up? I can do this all day." Flashing a bloody grin at Thal, it was the most hideous smile that ever crossed Maea's face, equal parts stubborn and determined despite the way her body screamed to stop.
She may enjoy seeing the blood splatter across her deck, but Thal sneered at the words. Maea had convinced her there was nothing to blame, and now she wanted to bring it up? Like that was going to somehow win her back? She sure had a screwed-up way of showing it.
Her tail lashed sharply to release the tingling that still ran down her spine. "Don't pretend like you know what happened." A vicious snarl was on her lips as she spat out the words. Because after months of forgiving herself for something she couldn't control, she wasn't about to go down that road. No, not when Maea had no idea what she was talking about.
Thal took a threatening step forward, her hands hovering closer to her daggers with every step. "Nothing?! I crawled to your lifeless body after you nearly killed me, but you were already dead. Some idiot Accepted tried to heal you, but there was nothing to heal." And what was she supposed to do about it anyways? She didn't have healing magic or items. She couldn't teleport them to safety. She couldn't do anything but watch and curse how everything had played out. It was something she'd already comes to terms with: Thal didn't heal people, she hurt them.
And as Maea came for her again, she was already trembling with anger, ready to lash out. Her head whipped down with the force of the attack, but she placed her hands over the knee, protecting herself from the brunt of the damage as she took the words as a challenge. "I don't lose." It was fueled with every ounce of stubborn energy she possessed, the weight of her anger sitting firmly in their searing heat. Hooking Maea's knee with her arm, she used the other to unsheathe her dagger, flipping it as she moved to stab the blade into the Ancient's thigh.
