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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!
Crooked souls trying to stay up straight Dry eyes in the pouring rain
Using his compass, Noah let the pull of its magic send him across the world, snapping him from Halo’s frost to the thin air of Stormbreak. The city spread beneath him in its ordered sprawl, white stone and gilded towers gleaming beneath the waning sun. He wasted little time among its streets. His wings stretched wide, catching the air as he let the currents carry him. The flight was brief, the Celestine rising below, a sanctuary of green and bloom nestled within the city’s heart. Noah's heart softened with its familiarity.
Wings tilted and his talons touched earth, and then he was a man again. The attuned's boots pressed the well-worn paths, the memory of his feet retracing steps he had walked before. He followed the winding way until the shrines stood before him, pale stone catching the light, carved into the likeness of the god he had pledged himself to. At the feet of Vi’s shrine, Noah bowed his head. His prayer was wordless, carried in the stillness of his thoughts: gratitude for mercy, for strength, for the gift of continuing to endure when so much had been taken. The silence lingered, weighty and familiar. When at last he straightened, he laid his offering at the base of the shrine—spiced mulled wine, its steam curling faintly in the air, and a loaf of bread still soft from the oven. Simple, humble gifts, but given with sincerity.
Sitting back on his heels, Noah pulled a notebook from his pocket. He wrote down a few things he noticed about the shrine for Vi. He wrote about the flowers that bloomed at the feet of the statue, of the way the water that flowed around and behind it seemed cleaner and brighter than the rest. He wrote, too, about Vi's features. Standing, Noah looked at the statue before him with glacier eyes, taking in the way the cold stone represented the god of life in truth, and jotted it down. But, the shrine bore the traces of time and weather: fallen petals, windblown debris, the small neglect of days. Putting his notebook away, he started clearing out some of the debris from the base of the statue.
Between the Celestine, council meetings, preparing the Tower for refurbishment and renewal, and everything else Lena had taken on, there didn’t seem to be enough hours in the day. So, wiping her brow from the garden that she’d been picking over for some time, in hopes that preparation during winter meant she’d be able to do some true revitalizing in the spring, she stood from her crouch, sighing heavily. The weeds had become quite a burden and bother in their brief absence (refugee plains due to Dahlia’s horrendous interference) but for now, nothing else was worse for the wear. She could take a break, tend to the animals, and then head back through her usual intervals.
Soil on her cheeks and apron, she hoisted her basket and hummed happily around her chosen route, content that things were returning to normal. Zavien was leading and cultivating Stormbreak’s revival, without the void immersed within, and things were maneuvering at a steady pace. Floating over to the nearest enclosure, she checked the water, hoisted some hay amidst the fence line for the resident unicorns, then continued onward, towards the bend with the shrines. Ordinarily she’d stop and pray, but there was someone else in the midst, and she arched a brow, recognizing the figure.
The Caretaker pondered over the particulars – not wanting to interrupt anyone in their devotions and invocations, so she figured it’d be an amiable greeting, and then she could maneuver on. “Hello Noah!” She gave a wave in case he lifted his head, but intended to continue along her way. He probably required time and salvation after all the hours fighting off the infestations as a demigod.
Crooked souls trying to stay up straight Dry eyes in the pouring rain
The dead leaves crunched in Noah's hands as he grabbed them and as he used his boots to kick at larger piles. As he worked, he lost track of what was around him. Until, a beacon on the hill, bright and flowery and familiar, he heard his name.
Even before he realized he was doing it, Noah’s head lifted, shoulders angling as he drew in another breath, deeper this time. The fragrance settled in his chest like a familiar chord, struck clear and true. Lena. He hadn’t noticed how naturally he’d leaned back into his attuned senses until now, as if the Celestine itself had coaxed them awake. A smile brightened across his features. He lifted his hand and took a step back from the statue so that the other attuned could see him in proper form. "Hello, Lena!" Noah replied back to her.
"I was just cleaning up around the Vi statue." He gestured toward it, still holding a handful of leaves in all states of death. He noted the grime on her apron and the dirt smeared on her cheek, the flecks of hay chaff in her dark hair, and tilted his head slightly. He then let his glacier eyes settle back up on her face. "You must be hard at work, too."
She would’ve kept going had he simply waved her off in the usual, amiable greetings as of late – everyone so busy with the multitudes and litanies of lists. Instead, he answered and responded, so she paused along the path, granting a small smile in return. “I see. I regret that it’s in a sorrier state than I would like,” nor had she noticed; which perhaps said a lot for how much had been going on lately. Still, it chaffed at her ribs, head nearly bowing low at the figment of things; a bastion of shame clinging to her chest. “Thank you for taking care of it.”
Unaware of her appearance, save for how she usually looked after half a day (with more to come), she raised her eyes back up to Noah. “Oh, yes. Lots to do here, especially after -,” she removed one hand from her basket to wave around – indicating the damage done by Dahlia and the Family in general. “You must have had much to do afterwards as well,” given actions in between, in the ongoing war, and the lingering aftermath, or what she presumed, for each and every demigod.
Crooked souls trying to stay up straight Dry eyes in the pouring rain
Noah, in kindness, gave a small nod and a little shrug. "There were more pertinent things to worry about." He knew that if any of Vi's followers chose to take time to clean his shrine rather than fight against their enemy and protect the sanctity of life in Caido that the deity would not be happy. But now, in a time of reprieve and respite, was the time.
"There's plenty of work to be done." Thankfully, Halo was more protected than Stormbreak. While they had a great deal of attacks to their home, and were invaded by all manner of violent species, Halo did not suffer in the same way as the skyward city. But it already looked better than when Noah and Zavien had planted the last rose to release the city from the shadow of Dahlia's grasp. The citizens had been doing work enough for it to be noticed by an outsider. "Since the imminent danger has passed, I was taking the time to come see this shrine and others for Vi and Safrin. I am building one in Halo specifically for them and I wanted to see how other parts of the world have showed them honor."
Turning to look back at the work that needed to be done, Noah let his eyes move further away from the statue of his chosen god to all the others. They were in the same stages of disrepair and neglect. "Do you have any tools handy for this? Like a broom, or..?" Noah asked the Caretaker, lifting a brow as he looked back in her direction.
She took his kindness with a smile of her own, but still, the feeling of guilt and shame remaining, churned against her. Clutching her basket closer to her hip, she nodded at the plenty of work still lingering through – thinking immediately of the Tower, waiting for all of them to have a moment to do more than breathe. The notions of him creating a shrine within Halo sparked her intrigue though. “Oh, that sounds nice.”
His question brought her out of other thoughts cycling along her mind, and she nodded. “At my office. I’ll be right back.” She took the shorter route rather than the one she’d been planning, since after all, she was continuing to tend to her own tasks, but if Noah wanted to persist and continue, she certainly wasn’t going to deny him the necessary tools for the job. Stopping briefly at the workplace in the center of the Celestine, she gathered her materials and brought forth likely more than needed, but upon her return, granted a broom, gloves, and a rake, in case of leaves.
Crooked souls trying to stay up straight Dry eyes in the pouring rain
Noah was grateful for Lena’s willingness to help him with gathering tools. She seemed so busy, but the Sentinel knew that it was in her nature. From every time that Noah interacted with, or heard about, Lena she was founded, grounded, and rooted in loyalty and service.
As she returned Noah straightened in time to take the tools from her. ”Thank you, Lena.” Noah said. He took the brook and set the other tools on a nearby bench. He got to work, sweeping and making piles. Before Lena could slip away, Noah lifted a question her way.
”Longnight is coming soon. Does Stormbreak need to do much to prepare for it?” he asked as he worked, using the broom with the bristles sideways to pull some leaves and debris from between the statue and some annuals planted all at its base. For the season, Noah was surprised the Celestine wasn’t packed with more snow than the frost that touched surfaces here and there, but he did admit that it made cleaning up easier.
Nodding, she turned to go – intent on finishing multitudes before the day was over. But at his inquiry she paused, mulling over the possibilities. “We have so much to do before the season’s out – I doubt anyone will pay LongNight much mind.” It certainly wouldn’t be their sole mission to have preparations in hand for the endless evenings – but they also hadn’t borne the brunt of monsters from so many years ago. “The Tower is our biggest project currently,” and her eyes flickered in that direction, far over garden walls and flowers, towards the bare bones of rebuilding projects. “Especially after the Family had hold of it.” And then subsequently took it down – once again, as if the massive structure couldn’t go more than a few years without becoming decimated. A frightening and harrowing thought.
Turning back to glance his way, she gave another small smile. “I need to head out – but best of luck in your endeavors. And thank you again.”
Crooked souls trying to stay up straight Dry eyes in the pouring rain
Leaves crunched and dust puffed into the cold air. As Noah worked, his breath came in puffs of white steam that he was all too used to from his life in Halo. She let him know of the work to be done, and a frown pulled at the corners of his mouth. He knew the rubble and ruin that the Tower had been left in in Dahlia's wake. He had seen it. It would be a lot of work.
"Thank you, again, Lena. Let me know if I can be of any help. After I finish here I am heading to find Zavien, so I'll be in the city for a minute." He smiled at her, genuine and deep with wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, as he watched her leave.
Noah worked in quiet rhythm, the soft scrape of the broom against stone anf frost mingling with the murmur of water nearby. Each motion felt deliberate, grounding—a small act of reverence in the god’s presence.
When the path was clear, he set the broom aside for the rake, drawing it over the white-washed stone path where leaves had gathered. The scent of earth rose, rich and clean. It smelled different than the soil in the Greenwing, and Noah let that roll over in his head as he finished the work.
On his way out, he placed the tools he had been given back at the shed where Lena had gathered them from. The caretaker ws nowhere to be seen, probbaly somewhere elbow deep in another job.
