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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!
09-02-2025, 04:28 PM (This post was last modified: 09-17-2025, 07:55 AM by Damien.)
Damien
the horrors persist but the wonders prevail
The clouds beneath Stormbreak weren’t clouds—they were a sea, roiling and white, swallowing the city’s foundations as if it had risen out of some god’s dream and forgotten why. Damien’s boots clicked along the stone bridges, each echo louder than the last in the mist. He didn't know another city like this: orderly, gleaming, haunted by statues with marble eyes that seemed to follow him just to make sure he wasn’t… anything unusual. Not that Aria seemed to mind. She had already slipped from his arms and was padding along the edge of the railing, tail twitching, claws barely touching the stones as if she were learning the city’s rhythm before anyone could scold her.
He gripped the crate in one hand, small offerings for someone who might not even want them, for a woman he had never met. Lena. The Celestine. Something in the name had promised knowledge, patience, answers he didn’t yet know—he wasn’t here for pleasantries. He was here to make sure the cub survived, and maybe, if the world allowed it, thrived.
The Celestine came into view, clinging to the edge of the city like a secret made visible: a tangle of green against grey stone, terraces hanging over nothing but the open sky, filled with creatures that shimmered and hovered, swam and slithered, none of them seeming to care that a man with a snow leopard cub was walking toward them like he belonged. Cloud Mantas drifted lazily, their leafed tails waving in a rhythm that could almost be music. Damien’s mouth went dry. He didn’t usually do awe, but he did it now anyway.
The Celestine wasn’t like anything Damien had seen before. He kept a careful grip on the crate, trying to look purposeful, competent—but Aria had other plans.
Aria chirped, a sharp, tiny sound that echoed off the statues, and his eyes turned forward. But she was already bounding past the next bend. "Hey—!"
She had spotted someone first. A stranger, to Aria, was merely an opportunity for friendship. The young cub (aged at about 3-4 months old) crouched, tail flicking, and then—leap! Her small body went sprawling toward the stranger’s ankles. She tumbled, chirped again, indignantly, and then darted around their legs, trying to sniff, paw, and clearly declare ownership of whatever had caught her attention.
Damien cursed under his breath, though it was more habit than anger. “Aria. Stay—” He stopped, because she wasn’t staying. She never stayed. Damien’s fingers tightened around the crate. “Ugh… I'm sorry. She’s… new. And excited to meet you.” If that much was not already obvious enough. "You wouldn't happen to be.. Lena? Or know where we might find her?" He ventured.
a ship is safe in harbor but that's not what ships are for
Despite the seasonal change, Lena knew she had to tackle the herb garden. It’d been left lackluster during the void and Dahlia’s reign, especially when they’d all fled, so once she was done feeding and watering the vast amount of animals in their enclosures (their happy munching a bloom to the ears), she’d put on her apron, rolled up her sleeves, and got to work. Perhaps even this work could be an expression of gratitude – to Frey, to the Celestine itself, for always giving and granting her an opportunity to become better and bolder.
Eventually though, after much weeding, she’d be found out – though she didn’t predict it’d be by a snow leopard. Mittens, protective and ridiculous, had spotted it barreling towards her, unleashing a spine-curdling shriek, but the creature didn’t seem very perturbed. Feeling the flicker of a tail, the roll of a chirp, and all sorts of darting about her legs, she looked down to see the young cub reeling around her. Placing her trowel down, she grinned – amiable and friendly despite her companion’s, understandable, antics. “Well, hello there! Where did you come from?” She didn’t have any of the big cats in the Celestine gates presently – and she doubted any new ones had already escaped…
So instinctively she glanced upwards, rising from her crouch. Not long after another approached, apologies already rendered. She didn’t recognize the man – but she’d likely been sequestered in between King’s End and Stormbreak for too long to venture out into new foundations. “Oh, no worries. Mittens is much the same.” The abominable snowball glared, hovering just over her shoulder, and then maneuvered its stony fixtures into a frightening grimace. “You lucked out though. I am Lena.” Taking off her gloves, she extended her hand in greeting. “Was there something you needed?”
Damien wasn’t used to people smiling when a predator cub wrapped around their ankles. Most folks in Halo would’ve been halfway up a tree by now, swearing about claws and teeth and the kind of trouble a man had no business raising under his roof. But Lena just grinned, calm as summer, while her… whatever that was—an abominable snowball, apparently—hovered overhead shrieking like it was announcing the end of days.
The sound made Aria flinch, ears flattening tight to her head. She chirped a startled note, darted a step back behind Damien’s boots, then peeked out again with wide eyes—half wary, half tempted to try and confront the strange, floating rival.
Damien blinked up at it, lips twitching despite himself. “That one yours?” he asked, voice rough with travel but edged in wry disbelief. “Don't think I've seen anything like it before. Loud little bastard.” He glanced down at Aria, then back up at Mittens, who looked like it might try to swallow one of them whole, and let out an amused huff.
He shifted the crate higher in his grip, freeing one hand to take hers. His palm was calloused, roughened by years of rope and wood and crossbow string. His shake was firm without clenching her hand.
“Damien Ulfsen. This is Aria. We're from Halo. She's an orphan, only a few months old but I've been keeping her alive on milk and meat…” His jaw flexed as though the words cost him something. Pride was hard to shed, even when the truth was obvious. “I don't want her to just survive, I'd like for her to thrive. But I know more about hunting animals than I do raising them. So... figured if anyone could tell me how not to screw it up, it’d be the one running a place like this.”
The crate shifted in his hands again, offered forward as a gift or maybe a trade. Inside, a bundle of dried caribou strips wrapped in waxed cloth, and beside them two small pots of stubborn little plants: Arctic wormwood, pale-leaved and bitter, good for fevers and bad guts; and mountain sorrel, green and sharp, a taste of spring in the cold months. “Didn’t seem right to come asking for advice empty-handed,” he explained simply, watching her face to see if the offering landed.
a ship is safe in harbor but that's not what ships are for
Mittens, believing its efforts successful, still hovered nearby, all menace and stone and potential demolition, a warning sign to the littler beast. “Yes. This is Mittens,” to which she gave an apologetic shrug. “It’s protective,” offered by way of explanation – because sometimes that’s all she could do in those sentiments to explain the abominable snowball.
Once it was done screeching though, she turned her attention to Aria, crouching before the cub and blocking Mittens from view. Casually inspecting her usual calm flair and demeanor, she turned over paws and looked at ears, patting and petting from the top of the youth’s head down to her tail, waiting to see if anything seemed painful or morose. “She’ll need much more meat in the coming months – and her mother would be teaching her to hunt.” She glanced back at him, pondering if he’d be the one doing the instructing instead, given his prior statements. “She seems to be in relatively good health though, so you’re doing some good work. But lots of exercise and playing are a must.”
She’d already gone on prattling before the offer had come – her eyes widening at the bundles. “Oh, that’s all right,” though she was quite intrigued and interested in the plants. “Is that wormwood?”
Aria went stiff under Lena’s hands at first, ears flat and whiskers twitching, but she didn’t fight. She blinked up at the stranger’s calm face, sniffed her fingers, and then leaned into the touch with a soft chirp, tail flicking against the stone. By the time Lena’s inspection reached her haunches and tail, the cub was rolling halfway onto her side, batting at the trowel Lena had set aside like it was fair game.
Damien let out a low breath, something between relief and exasperation. “Figures. She doesn’t let me check her paws half the time, but a total stranger?” His mouth tugged wryly, though his eyes stayed sharp on the process.
When Lena mentioned meat and hunting, he nodded once. “Meat’s easy enough. Hunting, though…” His brow furrowed, gaze flicking down at the cub sprawled like she owned the place. “I guess I could drag a hide across the snow, get her to chase, but.. that’s just a game. How would you teach a cub to hunt?”
His attention shifted when Lena’s eyes caught on the crate. He angled it a little closer, shoulders easing. “Yeah, it is. Good eye. It's bitter, but it'll knock down a fever or settle an upset stomach. Other one’s sorrel—it's good on meat or a salad. Good for you, too. Grew ’em from clippings I cut in Halo. Figured you might put ’em to good use here.” At that, he set the crate down on a nearby bench(?).
Meanwhile Aria, emboldened now that the exam was over, turned her sights back on Mittens. She crept forward, belly low, ears pricked sharp. The snowball hovered like judgment itself, and Aria chirped once, then again—louder, sharper—before adding a small growl as if she could match its noise with her own.
a ship is safe in harbor but that's not what ships are for
She smiled at his exasperation, shrugging her shoulders. She’d had multitudes of experience with Caido’s wide variety of creatures, and knew what worked and what didn’t. Even then, sometimes there were sticklers who challenged, but on the whole, most were motivated by food, comfort, and the feeling of safety. For the young cub’s efforts and polite fortitude, she reached into her pocket and produced several treats, laden with quality jerky, offering some to Aria, and Mittens as well. “I’d start with having her chase anything. String, then put some meat on it, then keep moving upwards in size as she grows.” The Caretaker could fathom even trying some portions to a sled out in Halo, and having the leopard run after it – as she aged and grew. “Eventually you’ll find other game, or she’ll start seeking some out on her own.”
His education on the plants wasn’t necessary though, but she smiled nonetheless. She’d had a green thumb since she was young, and it’d only amplified as she’d taken over Celestine Caretaker duties – tending to the animals and gardens alike within the sanctum. “I could use them in my herb garden. Thank you.”
Mittens rolled its eyes at the cub though; well versed in Sol’s antics, and simply hovered higher, out of reach, while it made horrendous faces and tipped its head entirely upside down.
09-09-2025, 10:16 AM (This post was last modified: 09-09-2025, 10:17 AM by Damien.)
Damien
the horrors persist but the wonders prevail
Aria sniffed at Lena’s hand first, but the smell of jerky overruled any hesitation. She snapped the strip neatly from Lena’s fingers, carried it a pace away, then flopped onto her belly with paws braced around it like treasure. A rumble vibrated out of her chest—not quite a purr, but close enough. When she’d finished worrying the treat down to nothing, she scampered back to Lena’s knees, chirping sharp little sounds and rubbing her cheek against the woman’s boot in a clumsy attempt at thanks.
Damien’s mouth curved, half a smirk, half the ghost of something softer. He rubbed at his chin as Lena explained, thumb scraping along the rough edge of his jaw. “String, then meat, then bigger game…” He repeated the steps under his breath, testing the shape of them. “Could run or even use a sled to build up her legs and lungs. She'll need the endurance in Halo's climate.” His eyes flicked back to the cub, who was licking her chops with gusto. “Makes sense. If she can learn to help me scout and track… she’ll be more use than half the men I’ve worked with.” The thought seemed to settle into him, and instead of daunted by the tasks ahead, he looked quietly energized.
He tilted his head at Lena then, practical curiosity cutting through. “And bonding? Feeding her and running her is one thing. But how do I make sure she doesn’t see me as just... the one that feeds her? What keeps her close when she’s big enough to leave if she wants?”
Meanwhile, Aria’s campaign against Mittens had not ended. Noise had failed, so she tried stealth. She crouched low, haunches wiggling, then launched herself up at the empty air beneath the hovering snowball. She missed by a long way, but that didn’t seem to matter—she landed in a roll, scrambled back to her feet, and bounced in a little circle, chirping as if daring Mittens to come down and play.
Damien snorted, shaking his head a fraction. “She's going to get herself killed chasing after the wrong thing someday,” he muttered, though his eyes betrayed a touch of pride in her persistence.
a ship is safe in harbor but that's not what ships are for
Aria’s reaction was delightful, the urgency in which she snagged at her treat all the more amusing – and so the Caretaker gave her more pats and scratches around the ears as she sauntered back over. Nodding at Damien’s train and track of thought, similar to her own, she winked. “Sounds like you’ve got a plan now.”
As far as partnership went though, her head tilted, notions musing. “I think you’ll be surprised just how far the companion bond goes – both ways.” Tugs across hearts and souls, minds intertwined, feelings and emotions extended beyond so many other understandings and assurances. Faith instilled in one another, no matter the personalities combined and allied. “If you do find a problem afterwards, come see me.” And they’d figure something out.
And her persistence – well, Mittens lifted its head high, impudent as ever, stone nose vaguely sticking outward in snobbish decree – intentionally hovering upwards more and more, deliberately and obstinately out of reach once again from any claws. “But they learn fast. For now, it’ll be your job to instill some amount of self-preservation,” Lena’s gentle words claimed. “It’s what her mother would’ve done too.”
Damien stayed quiet, nodding faintly, but not interrupting. His eyes flicked between her and the cub, steady and intent, as though he were memorizing every scrap of advice.
When she spoke of self-preservation, though, his brow ticked upward. He glanced from Lena to the two companions — one hovering smugly, the other wriggling with unchecked energy — and exhaled through his nose. “She does tend to leap before she thinks,” he said dryly. “Not a lot going on in that little noggin yet.”
He stepped forward just as Aria was bunching her haunches for another go, scooping her up in one practiced motion. She squeaked, squirmed, then went limp once she realized who it was. He set her down into a sitting position a few feet away from the snowball. “Settle,” he told her, the word low, unbending. His thumb smoothed once between her ears and down her spine, and after a moment the cub stilled enough to sit, tail lashing but her claws no longer aimed at the snowball.
“Maybe it’ll say hello if you are calm,” Damien murmured to her, though he doubted the words meant much. Aria chirped back, swatted at her own tail-tip as it twitched, but—remarkably—sat. Not perfectly still, but enough.
He straightened up and glanced back at Lena, a crooked, uncertain smile tugging at his mouth. The look in his eyes carried the unspoken question: am I doing it right?
With that, he took a careful step back, giving Mittens space, as if to prove he wasn’t pushing too hard. If the floating snowball had any inclinations, at least the cub was giving it the best chance she could.
a ship is safe in harbor but that's not what ships are for
“Mm, the impulse of youth,” Lena declared; not voicing that she’d seen it amidst a myriad of others who should’ve had the wisdom to refrain, but still somehow managed to embark into those foolish antics just the same.
But she watched as Damien strived to wrangle her in – Mittens not helping in the process by continuing to be a smug, hovering beacon; but the Caretaker cultivated patience. Pretending to be admiring the plants while the Accepted tended to the cub, she partook in snagging at the offered and proffered herbs, snagging them into the threshold of her arms as the little leopard seemed to figure some portions out. It’d take more than the single overture, but the man seemed to be getting the hang of it; and he’d learn, one way or another, what worked and what didn’t for the cub.
She granted an encouraging smile while she walked back to the garden’s threshold, contemplating portions and where she might put said cuttings. Her gaze ended up rooting right back to the abominable snowball though, waiting to see what it would do.
Which was stick out its tongue and blow a raspberry, before lifting its gaze upwards in a boastful and superior outlook, and floating to be next to her. “Perhaps that goes for mine as well,” she offered, shaking her head. “Their personalities are what makes them so interesting though.” Because if they were all the same, then certainly the world would be a dull affair.
Damien huffed out a laugh when the snowball blew its raspberry, more surprised than anything. “Well. Guess that’s an answer.” Aria’s ears pricked at the noise, head snapping up, and she chirped back like it was the start of a conversation. When Mittens only floated smugly higher, she batted at the air with both paws, then flopped onto her side in defeat, tail thrashing in protest.
“Personalities, huh?” Damien rubbed the back of his neck, glancing from the cub to Lena. “Seems I’ve landed myself with one, then. Full of curiosity and no patience. Suppose that tracks.” He crouched enough to scratch behind Aria’s ears, and the cub rolled onto her back, paws kneading the air. “I’ll keep working on the ‘self-preservation’ bit. Can’t have her thinking everything and everyone is just another playmate.”
Straightening, Damien let his gaze drift over the Celestine, taking in the star-filled twilight and the carefully tended enclosures where creatures—some familiar, some impossibly strange—moved with cautious grace. “You’ve done a lot here,” he said, voice low, almost to himself. His eyes flicked to Lena. “All of this… you manage it on your own?”
a ship is safe in harbor but that's not what ships are for
Her brow arched at the statement, as if to convey that ‘you said it, not me’ conviction with a wry grin. Leaving the gifted and granted herbs along the side, she crouched again, retrieving her gloves and making her way through the weeding process once more as Damien spoke. “It will probably come in time. Caution doesn’t seem to be a big component of many young ones,” humans included. Hence why they needed others to help, mold, and show them the ways of danger, before tragic mistakes occurred. She wasn't sure where Mittens resided - given that it was a snowball - but the creature maintained its dignified, chaotic fold, glaring at the cub before spinning around like a top nearby.
Pulling out another invasive portion, and thinking some of the animals would like it as a treat, her head tilted at the sentiments, eyes flickering back up in surprise. “Oh, well, yes, but the credit mostly goes to Frey and Safrin,” hence why she’d always repay her gratitude – for giving and granting her an occupation, a way of life, something that fed her purpose each and every day. “Thank you though. It keeps me busy.” As for doing it all on her own, she shook her head. “I have a few assistants. We’re just playing catch up after spending so much time away.” Due to Stormbreak being run by a tyrannical portion of mayhem.
Damien gave a quiet grunt of agreement, crouching to tug Aria upright from her sprawl. She mewled in protest, paws reaching for the sky, but he tucked her against his chest with practiced efficiency. “Time to let the lady get back to her work,” he murmured, ignoring the cub’s indignant squirming. She stilled quick enough when his hand settled firm along her spine.
He straightened, gaze following Lena, the twilight glow of the Celestine stretching long shadows across the ground. “Frey and Safrin? I guess it makes sense a place like this wouldn’t come from ordinary hands alone.” His voice was thoughtful, low, but when his eyes shifted back to her there was a steadiness there. “Still takes someone to keep it going once it’s here.”
He shifted the cub in his arm and tilted his head, pausing for a moment before offering, “If you ever need more hands, just send word. I can build, fix what's broken, or bring supplies if nothing else. In exchange… maybe you could teach me more about caretaking — especially when I'm not so busy with Aria.”
"Anyway," His mouth tugged into that crooked not-quite-smile, wry and self-aware. “You’ve entertained a woodsman and his cub long enough. We’ll get out of your way. Thank you for.. the help.” Lena's suggestions and tips would certainly be helpful in the coming months as Aria grew out of her cubbishness.
He gave a small nod of thanks, then turned to start the walk back with Aria nestled in his arms — the cub still peeking over his shoulder at Mittens as if the snowball might yet give her a proper farewell.
a ship is safe in harbor but that's not what ships are for
Her attention deviated between the Halovian and her own work – pulsing that dedication of Frey’s work and cultivation deep into the roots of the plants, plucking away at the weeds, and salvaging what she could from what’d been lost along the way. Eventually, they’d be able to breathe new life into this world all over again – and she hoped it’d look far better than what Dahlia had ever been able to accomplish. Gratitude, thanks, and acknowledgements for what all the gods had done for them so many times before.
But her brow arched at his offer, for not many did – not when there were so many others things to do and accomplish. “Sure. I’ll let you know. And thank you for the plants.” Pondering, she sat upright from her crouch for a moment. “If you have any questions and can’t make it here, feel free to write. I can try and get to it swiftly. Good luck with everything!” The cub would certainly keep him busy – as all good companions did.
