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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 sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
Unsurprisingly, Caido remained persistent with its reign of monsters, even if a major party of them had left. There were always others to contend with, and today’s venture would prove that even in times of aftermath, of supposed peace, some ghosts still lingered, never quite capable of resting within supposed space of repose.
Messages and notices had been posted, and the Sword had hoped others would meet with him at the Barrows in order to alleviate the ongoing threat. The alternative was doing it on his own, at which he started anyway, placing himself at the meeting spot, where a crowd of King’s End inhabitants and market-dwellers had apparently sent up a rudimentary assemblage of stalls.
Intending to gather information, he’d been met with a whole lot of them, all persistent and in confusing, alternating theories, directions, and places. Individuals pointed to mounds in the distance of varying shapes and sizes, describing beasts of huge, unearthly bounty, and then others pointed in opposing bearings and orientation. And while he wrote it all down, he could already feel the headache beginning to form. Zuriel snorted behind him, pinning her ears at some older gentleman talking at a very loud volume. Belial had long since given up and was rolling around in the grass, waiting for the inevitable.
When others arrived, he let out a long sigh of relief. “Thank you for coming,” even if he was surprised by one of the participants, he didn’t let the notion form any further. “I am trying to find out where these daemons are,” and he held up the notes already taken, taking a long breath as he surveyed the crowd again, who’d gone back to their work, seemingly unbothered by the contradictory opinions. “But things seem to be conflicting. If we can talk to each of these,” and he pointed out the citizens in question, “Maybe we can get the actual locations and start.”
--
Welcome to another Monster Hunt and PQ+ for Abandoned (so be using your magic)! This will also count as assisting a region portion of the SEs and has to be completed by August 25th. Please post your character arriving and anything special they’re bringing, then pick an NPC to talk to.
His success in slaying void ursurs with Melita might have given Iskra a well needed confidence boost. Perhaps, tipped it too far into the direction of feeling like he's invincible. His limits as yet are untested, but undoubtedly short given his experiences and skillsets, most of which have been honed by carving up trees, not marauding creatures. Still, he's not going it alone, and he doesn't even mean Goose in this case. Utterly confident in Deimos' talents, Iskra fully intends to provide support as needed, and if it means he gets to sling an axe or two in close quarters (the only ones really available to him given his arsenal), all the better.
Goose settles quietly beside him, sniffing towards Belial with a cautious eye, while Iskra nods hello to Deimos and offers his name to Jack in quick greeting. His attention is drawn to the notes Deimos has on hand, peering at them for a moment, before his gaze lifts towards the citizens in question. Goose's working nose had since drifted from the peryton and towards the toddler of Frieda, smelling deliciously like the child hasn't washed since it's last meal, something Goose can happily assist with.
"I'll talk to her," Iskra says with no small amount of exasperation as he saunters after his wayward hound, the notes handed back over before he departs.
Goose's slowly wagging tail as he approaches the runaway toddler should be sign enough of his good natured intent, though Iskra still calls out to the taxed mother, "he's friendly!" The husky should even serve as a roadblock and a distraction, slowing the child enough to permit the mother to catch a breath. Closing the distance and stopping beside Goose, Iskra pats his back affectionately, offering Frieda and her youngster a soft smile. "Say, you don't by chance know anything about the monster reports around here do you? We're trying to head to the last place they were spotted, help clean up the risk from the region."
Iskra has a regular axe, Ampere, and some matches. Goose is with him.
Jack has got to stop coming to King's End, he's decided. Between cattle driving, being hassled by void vipers and delaying The Ark's departure so the crew can fuck around and make Ludo costumes, he ought to have figured there'd be some bullshit on this trip too. And it comes in the form of one of his contacts and suppliers point blank refusing to fetch the shipment Jack has paid him for because - and get this - daemons.
And so it's with a great deal of irritation and eye-rolling that he's taken himself to where a group is meeting to deal with the matter. His eyebrows raise to see Deimos, of all people, figuring that the Sword preferred not to deal with things outside of Halo's purview, but he's hardly going to complain. Standing beside Iskra - and eyeing Goose briefly but saying nothing - he nods along with the general plan.
"Aight, I'll take this guy," he says, nodding to Crentist knows-what-he-saw-ok Walker; he's liable to shake the other guy for his nerves alone. "Hey," he calls out to get his attention. "From the top, yeah? What'd you see?"
Jack arrives and questions Crentist Walker!
He's got himself and everything on his profile except for his companion.
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
So they dispersed, each trying to grapple with some kind of clarity over the situation. Iskra approached Frieda and her toddler, her features clearly torn between despondent, irate over nothing, and an inner rage that held no bounds. The youth noticed the dog though, screeching at the top of his lungs “PUPPY!” before dashing towards Goose, and before Frieda could start talking to the Abandoned about leash laws or something else, she rolled her eyes. “Of course I do. There’s been tons since the last war!” She waved her arms in a general direction, which wasn’t incredibly helpful. Huffing a breath, she squinted, gesturing back to the barrows in the foreground. “There was at least one of those dragons, I swear it, all mystical and ghostly. I just wanted to pay my respects to one of the graves further down, but it wouldn’t let me pass, and I wasn’t about to go tromping through there on my own. I’ve got other mouths to feed, y’know,” as if it was Iskra’s fault.
Jack ’s advance upon Crentist, who was meandering through his own market stall and trying to decipher if any business was to be had today, glanced at the smuggler with no change in his expression. “Whole lot of mess,” he started. Jack would be able to see the layout of images within the man’s head – an assemblage of griffins around a family plot emblazoned with Walton – ghostly, ethereal, and full of wrath. “More in the middle there,” he offered, pointing north. “There was one biggun though. Maybe it’s the leader of somethin’. I wasn't about to stick around to find out."
Which left Deimos with the nervous, twitchy man. The Sword bit back a level of irritation, and took some large strides towards Albert Smith, who’d already started to glance back and forth, looking as though he might bolt at any moment. Funneling in all the patience he could muster, Deimos nodded his greeting, striving to appear non-threatening, despite every ounce of his demeanor, stature, and figure exemplifying the usual. “Hello, sorry to bother you – we are attempting to gather information on the daemons, have you seen any-,”
At which Albert screamed, hands raised. “The daemons! Yes! Nasty brutes! There was a dragon, I swear it!” Before the Warden could persist with more questions though, the merchant begun spewing out all sorts of random tidbits. “Everywhere!” His fingers, slightly mangled, pointed towards the north yet again, indicating there might now be a pattern, instead of random bits of gossip. "Have you heard what they can do to someone? I’d be careful if I were you!”
--
Come share information with your group, or pester the NPCs for more info!
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
Fortunately Iskra has had years of practice dealing with irate, screaming women, his mother chief among them. So the harpy that goes by Frieda might as well have been water to a duck, earning nothing but an understanding and empathetic nod from Iskra. Goose is less impervious, his ears slanting back at the child's shrill cry, but he stands still for the embrace and the death grip of the toddler because that is indeed a smear of food on the tot's cheek and his tongue helps wash it free. "I see, thank you for your time ma'am. I should let you be on your way," he murmurs as he excuses himself with a small bow, a snap near his legs grabbing Goose's attention to heel, which the hound heeds since the child is out of food.
Iskra heads back to where they had all first met to discuss the daemons, waiting until at least one more of them had gathered (which would be very awkward if none did), before reciting Freida's knowledge. "The grumpy mother says she saw a dragon deamon at a grave in the barrows a bit further down." Iskra gestures the general way that she had, squinting at the line of graves off in the distance like he wish he knew which specific one. Since she'd been going to pay respects, perhaps a family name would guide them.
Crentist, Jack has decided, has absolutely been the best choice among them, based on the shrill noise of Iskra's woman and the screaming(?) coming from where Deimos is also trying his best to question the civilians. It helps, of course, that there's concrete telepathic evidence for him to sift through as well, the captain nodding brusquely. "Don't blame you," he says. "North, then. We'll take a look up there." Tossing a lazy salute towards the other man and leaving him to it, he approaches the group to listen to the gathered intel thus far.
"A dragon?" He winces at Iskra. "Great. Matches with what my guy had to say - he mentioned there were more to the north, includin' a biggun , to use the technical term. Reckon we got a daemon dragon fight on our hands." Surprising absolutely nobody.
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
With excuses made, acknowledgments granted, and gratitude extended back towards the merchants, Deimos jotted down everything said – at least finally lining up with one another. “All right, we head north, and be on the lookout for dragon daemons. Though it would not surprise me if there was anything else either,” to which he hoped the same could be said of the other men – figuring both were experienced enough with Caido to know this was going to be anything but simple.
Snagging at his bag of holding over his shoulder, he sent Belial onward, and the peryton headed into the sky, acting as a scout, while they headed further away from the market stalls, and towards elongated graves, hills, and barrows themselves. Some were strikingly large, nearly engulfing the sight of others, and the Sword narrowed his eyes, figuring this would prove to be another irritating fixture of the hunt.
Eventually, they wound their way towards a series of paths around the northern loop, and with his companion not sighting anything yet, they’d be forced to pick and choose options. Straight ahead, the path seemed unassuming, likely blending and lending to other eventual routes peeling off from one another. To the left, more of the massive barrows, and to the right, smaller mounds and family plots. While Zuriel flared her nostrils and snorted, clearly waiting for the inevitable, the Sword arched his brow and offered the choice to his constituents. “Which one do you want to try?”
--
Pick, as a group, which path your character would like to go down - straight, left, or right! Majority rules~
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
At least the information has been arranged into something more certain than the prior notes, but if Iskra had been hoping for better news to prove Freida wrong, he isn't given it. Dragon daemon in the Barrows it is.
He watches the retreating form of Belial before falling into a pace alongside the others. Goose weaves his own path ahead and to the side, lingering a few moments here and there to smell a section of ground or a rock more intently before trotting on ahead, not wanting to lose his position of lead (ignoring the fact Belial already has it).
When a fork came in the meadow, Iskra glanced at each option, but settled confidently on the one tot he right. "Woman said she was visiting a passed family member when she saw the dragon, so seems like the smaller mounds that way would fit the description best." Admittedly, Iskra doesn't know the exact layout of all the graves and whether or not they follow some order like the dewey decimal system. To the left, action heroes and and government, to the right, romance and dystopian youth. The smaller mounds seem the most likely though, and give better sightline to the ghastly.
Grunting his agreement - being on the lookout is increasingly Jack's status quo, even since The Family had left their shores - the captain sets off after the other two men and their companions, his hands buried in his pockets. With mind and magic sharp for anything that might show up to make their walk more complicated, Jack is relieved, if anything, that the most they have to contend with so far is a three-pronged fork in the road.
He hears Iskra out before nodding his agreement. "Guy I spoke to mentioned a family plot too, an' a bunch of griffins surroundin' it. The name on it was Walton, or somethin'," he offers, figuring they might at least go in armed with knowledge as well as devastating arcane force. "Seems the right way to go, but we should prob'ly expect a fight on our hands straight away."
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
His brow arched slightly, scanning over the brief pamphlets of notes, before placing them back within his pockets. “Griffins and dragons. Wonderful,” with all the facetious, sarcastic tones he could muster, nodding along at the group decision. “To the right.” Family plots. Waltons.
Always ready for a fight, or at least something dangerous and ridiculous, he still felt the surge of his incantations rise to the surface of his skin, hissing under his veins, eager and fervent. They turned down the right route, and the predictable features were beheld: mounds of predeceased households and relations, most sorted by name. Some were marked by statues or simple plating, others covered in debris or the earth trying to reclaim its properties.
His eyes scanned the titles – no semblance of alphabetical order or sense to the sequences or arrangements. Perhaps they’d simply been placed wherever there’d been room, a manageable assortment. Before they could go much further though, Belial gave an all-mighty screech from above, and as he looked ahead, there were patterns, ripples, in the air – five, of various shapes and sizes. Beaks took shape. Wings. Their own cries.
Though, for the moment, they just seemed to be hovering around one another, rather than immediately spying them. In a low rumble, he considered their options, glancing at the scenery nearby. “No surprise there,” studying the outcropping, they could use some of the barrows to duck down behind, but otherwise there wasn’t much else for cover. “If you want, I can make a shield to protect us.” There was always the other option of just going full out – but he’d prefer ensuring all of them made it home at the end of the day.
--
Decide on a strategy or just hit the daemon griffins now!
Goose's hackles raise from the base of his neck down towards the tip of his tail, fur on end with worry as attention is tugged skywards. Iskra's gaze skips from each phantasmal talon to the next, counting five in total. "Goose," Iskra says soft under his breath, fingers clicking at his side just faintly. "Get lost," he mutters to the dog, a signal to lay low and stay the fuck out of the way, one he has to use often when the dog's in the path of a falling tree or trying to come into a less hospitable bar with him. It helps that he's also a coward, so it doesn't take much to convince the husky that the immediate area of daemons is one he doesn't want to be in. The dog keeps low, slinking towards the shelter of a barrow far down the strand.
Iskra's attention is already back on the griffins, one hand slipping into his pocket for the box of matches he stashed there earlier. Ampere's weight, strapped to his back, is another comfort. "I can't do much from here," Iskra admits with a mild bite of disappointment. "So maybe a shield, or some other version of cover. Something to bottleneck them to get to us, so we can pick them off one by one. A shield and a trap in one." They could perhaps use one of the barrows as a base and erect more up and around it, leaving only one angle for the griffins to spot them from.
Jack, as usual, lingers toward the back of the group, and his eyebrows rise and his chin lifts at the sight of the daemons clustered around one of the barrows - just as Crentist had said. Tilting his head towards Iskra and then back at Deimos, he nods mild agreement; much as it would be entertaining to just let loose (he wouldn't even feel too wary about it, not with the Sword so close), a strategy is always a sound decision in his book.
"If Deimos shields for cover, I can use lightning to spook 'em towards us," he suggests. "Get 'em all cozy and in range for whatever else you might wanna do." It's been a long time since range has been a particular problem for him, but he remembers well when he was hobbled by it.
Jack agrees with Iskra! He suggests Deimos throw a shield up for cover, and then he will use magic to spook the griffins towards them.
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
The strategies and portions went back and forth, but rather than any hostility or disagreements, as he’d experienced in the past, each seemed amiable to the potentials. He nodded at Jack’s abilities, his eyes briefly cast into the sky for Belial’s whereabouts, floating and coasting above. If worst came to worst he could always use the companion as a distraction as well. “All right,” came along his own accords, before doing exactly as designated.
Reaching into his incantations, he unfurled water dominions, before altering them into fine bits of ice, waylaid around them in a makeshift shield; strong, sturdy, and durable for any pending assaults from wraiths. Zuriel slipped calmly behind the Sword; used to the structure.
This gained some attention from one of the griffins, tilting its head from side to side as if just noticing they had company – but not yet alerting the rest of its clan – creeping closer and closer within the air.
--
Deimos has made an ice shield using his Mastered Water around the group, but this has already attracted some attention from one of the griffins, and its coming closer.
Jack has always expected to be impressed by Deimos's magical prowess, and the Sword doesn't disappoint. Water and ice are also his preferred element by default, and he watches the shield take glittering shape around them with quiet curiosity. "Nicely done," he mutters - the highest of compliments from the surly captain, make no mistake about it.
Realising that one griffin has already started to creep towards them, Jack nevertheless tries to target the rest of the group to get their attention. Opting for something a little less suble than ice, he straightens up and unleashes a crackle of lightning at the daemon right at the back, hoping it will, er, encourage the others towards them.
Jack fires lightning at the griffin that's farthest away but in range, hoping to spook it (or kill it) and the others towards Deimos's shield.
Regional Score bonus: +17 in all shrine visits, drops, PQ+s, KQs, etc. (You must post this at the bottom of any post where a +17 should be included). Residents cannot be cursed at shrines in this region.
Lightning manipulation (Abandoned/Hybrid): Can create and control Lightning. Must be within a 30ft radius.
Type: Light | Style: Other | Level: Mastered
Mageglass Ring | A silver ring with an unrefined stone of mageglass. Will amplify the magical abilities (range and power) of Abandoned by one level. (Basic becomes upgraded, upgraded becomes mastered. Mastered range cannot be amplified, but mastered damage will add on +10 in KQs/PQ+s)
Type: Light | Style: Other | Level: Mastered
Mageglass Bracelet | A bracelet of leather and silver, decorated with a piece of polished mageglass. Will amplify the magical abilities (range and power) of Abandoned by one level. (Basic becomes upgraded, upgraded becomes mastered. Mastered cannot be amplified, but mastered damage will add on +10 in KQs/PQ+s)
Type: Dark | Rank: Mastered
Type: Light | Style: Other | Level: Mastered
Mageglass Ring | A band of silver crafted to look like waves, with an unrefined stone of mageglass. Will amplify the magical abilities (range and power) of Abandoned by one level. (Basic becomes upgraded, upgraded becomes mastered. Mastered cannot be amplified, but mastered damage will add on +10 in KQs/PQ+s).
Type: Dark | Style: Defensive | Level: Mastered
KingMaker Coat | A coat made from the elephant-portion of the mythical KingMaker. Blocks physical damage. Has a 2 post cooldown
