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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
The Sword only briefly recognized the structures of the streets laden before them – having wandered here previously with Sunjata, but in the usual distortion of a new region for him – hadn’t known the precise location. Mentally marking it along the map in his mind, much like the one Sohalia had gifted to him, he directed his senses to each sight and sound. This portion didn’t seem has open as the Plaza had been; a juxtaposition to the cafes, bakeries, and sweet shops, a darker complexion with bars and gambling halls, and his brows furrowed, pondering over where exactly the Dragoon would be taking them.
If it was a brothel again, he’d be doing exactly the same as he had with the Flood, and avoiding it entirely.
But instead of leaving that up in the silence and air, he lifted his head at the aromas drifting along – a mingling of scents from a variety of food laden fixtures and stalls. “What do you recommend?” Belial hooted from beside the Warden’s boots, an echo of impending choices.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
The Silk Houses was technically a short cut on his way to the Pacifist Plaza and Erica's incredible noodle shop, but he didn't want to ruin the surprise for Deimos. "Oh. You'll see." Shooting the Warden a mischievous grin, he led the way through the dilapidated houses. A few people roamed the streets in the daylight hours, but most people were sleeping off the previous night's activities, preparing to start again in the next few hours. The stragglers were the usual 24/7 drunks and the shop workers collecting supplies for the night. Overall, it was a peaceful walk that would serve as a quick path towards their carb loading.
Zavien kept the pace clipped, more than ready to stuff his face with savory broth and noodles. His mouth was practically dripping with saliva at the thought, but he tried to give Deimos the full experience. Pointing to a shop covered in potted plants and overgrown ivy, he started the short tour of the area. "That's the healer in the area. She's a little strict, but she knows how to patch someone up after a bar fight." Gesturing his hand down the alleyway, a dangling sign rattled against the crumbling bricks. "Over there is Jeff's. He's the local butcher, and merchant, and accountant. He kind of does it all." Lastly, he pointed to the only building that looked to be somewhat upkept. "And I'm sure you've heard of Mother Molly's." The inn and brothel house was the only building showing any signs of occupancy as a few shouts came from inside. It wasn't uncommon to hear 'noises' from within the establishment, but these sounded different than their usual 'activities'. Then a shattering of glass echoed out into the street.
Turning to Deimos, Zavien knitted his eyebrows together. "Hmm... we should probably just make sure everyone's safe." Not waiting for a response, the Dragoon made his way towards the front door, listening closely to the shouts of distress from within. His fist came up in a loud pounding of the wood. "Hey! Is everyone okay in there?!" Another scream and a responding shout were his only answer, giving him more cause for concern. He didn't know what kind of situation he might be walking into (or what kind of kink someone had paid for), but Zavien reluctantly reached for the handle, ready to bust the door in. "If you don't open up, I'm gonna - !" However, before he got the last few words out, a curvy young blonde woman slung the wooden door open.
At first, it looked like she might reprimand him, but as recognition crossed her face, she slid her hand against the doorframe, batting her pretty blue eyes up at Zavien. "You're gonna what, Zav? Bust in here with your big strong muscles?" Letting her eyes run up and down his body with obvious desire, she put her other hand on her hip, pushing her chest forward slightly. "Maybe I should have left the door shut..." Her tongue flashed out to lick the deep red tint covering her plump lips, causing Zavien's to look like someone had used the same product on his entire face. His mouth hung slack in shock and uncertainty, glancing at Deimos in a desperate plea for help. Luckily, the Warden didn't have to intervene as a demanding female voice came from within. "Callie! Let the men in!" Another crash of glass in combination with the booming voice had Callie flinching, fear flashing through her eyes momentarily. That's when Zavien noted the way her seductive clothes were disheveled, even torn in a few places, exposing a red handprint around her wrist and sparkling shards of glass in her blonde hair.
Anger welled up inside and Zavien had to hold himself back from barging past. Madame Molly didn't hurt her girls, which meant a customer was overstaying and overreaching on the hospitality. His green eyes burned a deep emerald as he looked to Deimos, hoping he was thinking the same thing: they couldn't leave these defenseless women on their own. So he gave Callie a gentle hand on the shoulder, a comforting smile on his face as he stepped inside. "Wait out her. We'll let you know when it's clear."
08-21-2024, 10:47 AM (This post was last modified: 08-21-2024, 10:47 AM by Deimos.)
DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
The walk was initially pleasant enough; long strides sweeping, mind memorizing the pathways and noteworthy shops and people, nodding along as he took his mental tallies. Likely it would’ve continued in the midst of nothing but a tour, when the glass shattered, and his own senses heightened.
Spine straightening, he persisted behind Zavien silently. It wasn’t his jurisdiction, for that was Halo, but notions of soldier depictions and distinctions remained within his figure all the same. Screaming and shouting seemed to ricochet, and his eyes narrowed, waiting for something to come to fruition or light – and as it all unfurled into a realization, his jaw clenched, the muscles tensing and feathering.
Following after the Dragoon, he loosened a very long breath and began picking through the choices they were likely going to have to make. “What is your protocol here?” Snag? Imprison? Trials?
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
Zavien was immensely grateful that Deimos didn't comment on Callie's 'familiarity' with him, especially as the ruckus sounded from within. Before he stepped through the door, he addressed the question, "Depending on what we find, we can detain him until he receives a trial, where they can determine his punishment." With that, the Dragoon made his way into Mother Molly's, letting his eyes adjust to the dark interior.
Although he hadn't been inside for many years (too many memories) he recognized the plush seating and low-burning sconces that casted the two figures in deep shadows across the wooden floor. Madame Molly stood off to the side, letting the man rampage through the room, her arms clamped in front of her in a non-threatening manner. Her eyes met his with surprised recognition but only gave him a respectful nod of acknowledgement. In contrast, the man hung on the back of a barstool, momentarily pausing as his grubby hands clutched a glass of sloshing ale. His hair hung in an oily mess, the apex glistening with exposed scalp of aged years. He couldn't be more than fifty, but the years hadn't been kind to him as he obviously hadn't been kind to others. In his disgruntled stupor, he threw the glass across the room, its shattering debris joining the others at the base of the wall. "Shend me ano'er gurl! Tha' one wath too shoft. Shend me one tha' won't cry when I sthpank her!" His slurred words filled the room with violent demand, yet the Madame looked on with exhausted annoyance. Based on Callie's injuries, this had been going for hours.
Zavien made his was forward, his hands relaxed at his side, but ready for action. He didn't expect this man to come quietly. His voice came out calm but firm, the command evident. "That's quite enough. It's time you leave." The drunkard finally looked at the newcomers, his thick eyebrow raising. A rough, barking laugh came from his unkept beard, exposing what little teeth remained in his mouth. "Shays who?" Waving his hand dismissively, he stumbled to stand from his seat. "I'll leave when I geth wha' I came fo'." He looked at the only other woman in the room, Madame Molly, with a lecherous grin. "Even if I gotta thake it."
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
Given the current circumstances, any thoughts of hunger would have to wait – put on hold while they dealt with the matter at hand. Deimos sent Belial on watch duty of several aspects, so he could float and hover about window ledges, exits, and entrances on an erratic pattern and keep charge of those locations, while they surveyed the damage and irritating nature of everything else.
His eyes flickered over to the occupants, a deep rumble exuding as he nodded to the citizens, then delivered his notions about next maneuvers – ignoring the man’s outcries, for engaging with it wasn’t going to help anyone presently. “They should be placed somewhere for safety and questioning. I can ward him off until we are ready to take him out.” Out meaning removal from the building, but Deimos also had no problem with annihilating a person like him quickly and efficiently – however, given it wasn’t his region, he would defer to Zavien.
Making due on the words of his predilections, he conjured and formed an icy shield that elongated to nearly a thickened wall, placing it directly in front of the perpetrator and outward – simultaneously protecting anyone nearby from his vehemence and pressing the fiend further into the opposing barrier. He could scream and shout and throw things all he wanted; he wouldn’t be getting very far. Turning back to Zavien, his head tilted. “Do you carry restraints with you?”
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
Nodding in agreement, Zavien made his way past the screaming maniac stuck behind the ice, trying not to make eye contact with him. It would only serve to worsen the situation. Instead, he walked past calmly towards Madame Molly, who stood at the bottom of the stairs, protective of the girls above. Giving her a reassuring smile, Zavien gestured a hand up. "Go join the others. I'll let you know when it's clear." Although she looked hesitant, the woman dipped her head in acknowledgement before gliding up the steps to safety.
When he made his way back towards Deimos, he prepped himself to encounter the drunkard now pounding against the clear wall encasing him. At the Warden's question, he said, "Yeah." To support his answer, he pulled a fresh leather strap from his bag. It wasn't as permanent as the iron manacles at the Needle, but it would do in a pinch such as this, hence the reason he carried it.
Zavien stepped towards the man, standing in a relaxed state as he waited for Deimos to make an opening or incapacitate him.
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
Deimos waited patiently; a composition of stone and indifference. The man meant nothing to him, so he could wail away behind the icy wall and continue to be ignored. Only after Zavien appeared with the leather straps did he arch his brow, for he could easily create handcuffs if need be, but the Dragoon seemed adept and set.
It’d be easier to take the stranger elsewhere without unnecessary dead weight, though the Sword had a feeling he wasn’t going to be cooperative either way (and it was still very tempting to knock the man unconscious). Opting to alter his incantations so the icy fragments continued to smother and sandwich the beastly burden, he then opened a small section in the particles to allow Zavien an opportunity to place such restraints upon the cretin. Even as he spouted a hundred different curses and oaths; the magic would be enough to keep him contained. “Let me know when you are ready.” Then they could make their next set of motions.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
Zavien watched in awe as Deimos seamlessly compressed the ice into a constricting cage, pinning the man's limbs against the side despite his thrashing. All without the slightest expression of struggling. And he could do nothing but watch in awe. When the drunkard was finally unable to maneuver enough to strike, Zavien approached the opening. As expected, the Warden had thought of everything, even the window was perfectly placed to allow the Dragoon to secure the man's hands.
When he grabbed the first wrist, the man tried to jerk away, only pushing his shoulder harder against the unwavering ice. He cursed, but it was muffled with his face pressed against the frozen wall. As he wrapped the leather around one arm, Zavien said firmly, "The harder you fight, the more trouble you'll find in the Needle." It didn't seem to decrease the struggling, but it added a glint of fear to the man's eyes as he tied the strap securely. He wouldn't be getting out of it easily.
With both wrists tightly bound within his grasp, he turned to Deimos and nodded. "I'm ready. Let's get this guy out of here."
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates
His expression remained nonchalant; though the inward satisfaction of carving the ice into the man’s frame managed to amuse. It would’ve been a far more grander thing to slay the accused, but again, not his jurisdiction – though a welcome toss off the isle might’ve been a wholly and just reprieve as well –
Attention focused and honed as Zavien restrained the cretin, the Sword slowly relinquished the ice, allowing it to dissipate into nothing more than its prior elements sinking into his veins. Tilting, then nodding his head, he opened the door and opted to go ahead; in case the stranger still tried anything. Should he break away, rampaging straight into Deimos would’ve been a very foolish idea; regardless if the Warden was game for vehemence.
Since the Dragoon, as far as he knew, lacked the ability of Attuned bombardments, he still voiced the notions out loud – turning back to watch the pair as they came down the stairs. “Where are we taking him?” Perhaps the Needle, as previously stated, but he wasn’t certain if there were other parameters. There was also the semblance of questioning the victims…but perhaps the Dragoons had a diverting force that could manage while they escorted the accused.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead The rising of the horns, ahead
As the ice dissolved around the man, he jerked his body, attempting to free himself. Unlucky for him, Zavien had a tight hold on the man and the movement caused him to stumble instead. Sighing, the Dragoon kept the drunkard upright with a firm hand on his disheveled shirt. "Don't fight me or we'll have to knock you out, and I don't want to carry your limp body." The words didn't help much but they seemed to make their way through the thick skull before him as the fighting minimized to a gentle tugging.
Pleased with himself, Zavien followed Deimos to the door. Before he stepped out onto the street again, he called over his shoulder to Madame Molly, "All clear!" Some shuffling could be heard from inside as the women began to filter back down the steps, relief evident on the features. Zavien just gave them a polite nod and stepped out of the brothel to answer the Warden's question. "We'll ultimately have to take him to the Needle, but we have to stop by the Spyglass first for some questioning from the enforcer. Her likes to spend his time there. We'll also be able to send notice to the Nest." They'd then follow procedure and send out one or two officials (sometimes Dragoons) to gather statements. Overall, it was a pretty simple process.
Zavien pulled the stumbling man ahead of him, walking back down the road of the Silk Houses. His stomach growled and he moaned, knowing there wouldn't be time to eat for quite a while. But he shot Deimos an apologetic smile, trying to be optimistic. "Hopefully, we can grab some food on the way."
