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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!
One day - or perhaps later after this, once he's got another drink in his hand and he's sure he hasn't sustained any life-changing burns - Jack might admit to Charlie that he can grudgingly understand why people choose to worship through her, whether it's to Dygra or themselves or any other god going. She blazes around him, his name falling from her lips with reverence rather than performance, and as the inferno builds within and without and the tang of smoke fills the air, the Captain is dragged forcefully - but willingly - along for the ride.
She cums and the kiss he leaves against her throat has teeth, Jack's hips stuttering as all control fractures away in a whipcrack of bliss that leaves him reeling. Grasping her tight enough against him to leave fingertip bruises against her thighs, the waves of his own climax crash chaotically into the ecstasy currently threatening to set the room ablaze. Jack's emotions have always run a little colder though, and in the comedown he's vaguely aware that the smoke has started to melt more into steam, that the floorboards are glittering with ice and frost even as wisps of fire continue to dance across the ceiling.
Numb and spent and with the world quiet as it always is in these few moments afterwards, Jack can do little more than scoff out a laugh against her skin and wait for his senses to properly reassert themselves.
fight so dirty but you love so sweet talk so pretty but your heart got teeth
Charlie goes boneless in Jack's grip the way a dog does after it’s been run hard and loved well, all the feral heat spent and burned down to something quiet and warm. For a long moment she doesn’t move at all, breath slowing, body heavy and pliant against him as if the world has finally stopped asking anything of her.
Then Jack will feel something; not fire this time, but a gentler warmth spreading through him, paired with a thin, bright line of pain that cuts through Charlie’s mind like a drawn blade; sharp, deliberate, and not at all unpleasant. She’s bitten down hard enough to draw a bead of blood, copper and heat on her tongue, and she doesn’t bother to announce what she’s doing as she lets the bloodboon pulse outward. It seeps into him quietly, knitting what needs knitting, easing the scorch and strain left behind by their collision without ceremony or apology.
Charlie tilts her head back once she’s finished, ruby horns catching what little light remains and throwing red shadows across the walls. She glances toward the shelves where embers still smoulder, lips pursing in a small, satisfied huff as she reins the fire in at last. Darkness settles back into the storeroom, soothed and whole again, until only a few soft motes of flame hover above her head like hazy stars. "Mmmmmm," she hums contentedly, the sound vibrating against The Captain as she lets out a quiet laugh. "That," she says warmly and pleased, "was definitely not sailing in just a lake."
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Hella golden retriever energy. Small unrefined horns made of ruby. Regular spade-shaped tail.
In a similar state of boneless nothing, Jack is just setting about to gather the shreds of his sanity and draw away when he feels it - the bright sting of pain that slices cleanly through the haze between them like a knife through warm butter. The Captain bristles instinctively, every synapse firing back to life all at once as if expecting violence or some unlooked for 'worship', so when something easy and soothing floods through in its wake, he's puzzled to say the least.
The feeling is still reflected in his furrowed brow as he gazes down at her, any sting of exertion or bruise or mark fading under the bloodboon's power, and as the fire reins itself in and Charlie rouses herself from her post-sex stupor, Jack at least has sense enough to nod his gratitude for it. Drawing the ice back inward as well, like they're merely straightening out a room after using it, he scoffs and withdraws from her so she can set her feet back on solid ground.
"If you'd wanted a lake you'd have gotten one, though," he rumbles, smirking and self-satisfied as he buttons his pants. "Maybe next time." Hunting for his belt and considering holding her underwear hostage, Jack eventually returns the garment and straightens himself out as much as he cares to. "Can I interest you in another drink an' ignoring the sound of a cat bein' strangled?" That sound, of course, being a rousing rendition of a sea shanty courtesy of Bassian.
fight so dirty but you love so sweet talk so pretty but your heart got teeth
Charlie does not even try to make her legs cooperate. With a contented little sigh, she dart!s back up onto the counter instead, perching there with all the lazy satisfaction of someone who has been thoroughly ruined in the best possible way. She reaches for her sweater and pulls it over her head, the fabric settling against her skin so that the absence beneath it is unmistakable, nipples pressing lightly against the knit now that the bra is nothing but a memory and a faint scent of charred lace.
When Jack finally hands over her underwear, she grins at him fiendishly and tugs them on with all the urgency of someone who has nowhere else to be. The sound she makes afterward is indulgent and a little mournful, the sigh of someone who has just finished the best meal of their life and is both blissfully full and deeply offended that it has ended.
She tilts her head, listening to the distant, enthusiastic suffering of Bassian’s voice bleeding through the tavern walls, and laughs softly under her breath. "Oh, absolutely," she says, flashing Jack a bright smile and nodding in agreement. Then she dart!s to the door, opening it just enough to lean back against it, one shoulder braced, posture relaxed and dangerously inviting. Firelight flickers lazily above her horns, casting warm shadows as she looks back at him through her lashes. "But maybe," Charlie adds, eyes glinting, "I could interest you in that drink, if it means I get to steal another sailing lesson out of you later." Her tail gives a slow, satisfied sway behind her as the shanty crescendos outside and Charlie leads Jack back into the light.
~FIN
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Hella golden retriever energy. Small unrefined horns made of ruby. Regular spade-shaped tail.
