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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!
When the feirw slowly morphs into an annoyingly familiar face, Thal lets out a long sigh along with a dramatic roll of her eyes. "Why didn't you just shift when you saw me? I could have killed you." Probably not, but it's nice to think she could if she wanted to. The thought doesn't stop the flattered smile that spread across her face, her own chuckle joining his as she shakes her head.
With her curiosity of the creature quenched, she takes in Asta's question with a lifted, tilt of her head. "Considering that's why I'm here, I wouldn't mind the company." As if she'd asked him to join her. Although that's hard to prove when she has to lengthen her stride to catch up to him, her booted feet clipping across the wet rock that echoes through the chamber. The closer proximity lets her see the drawn look on the Butcher's face, more tired than she's seen him before, except perhaps when he was wounded. Blue eyes narrowing with scrutiny, she asks, "Have you been here all day? You look like a mess." Which is nicer than anything she could have said - since he's a friend and all.
“I did not want to get wet.” The butcher replies as if it were nothing more than obvious why he’d waited until the last second and not just because he was curious what she would do when faced with it. He’d just managed to kill two birds with one stone. So, he makes his offer and twists on his heel, his boots leaving wet footprints behind as he walks along the edge of the springs, eyes peeled for any lilies as she mentions she’s here for the same.
Nodding, it isn’t until she’s at his side and her question reaches him that he glances back at her, spotting the scrutiny in her blue gaze. “I went and saw Dygra then figured I would take a pass through here.” He admits honestly, before his smile softens a touch as he glances back toward the springs. “I have a quest to help alleviate my night terrors.” He murmurs, keeping his gaze away from her as he offers that tidbit of information – a reason, perhaps, why he would seem so stressed out in spite of being in a space that nearly seemed designed to help it.
Astaroth
// and if the morning light sets in, we've cheated fate again //
It's such a simple response that Thal can't do anything more than shake her head, stupefied by his reasoning. Yet when the conversation shifts to that of his recent shrine visit, she hums out in understanding. Some of her own prayers to Dygra have been more than a little emotional, and straining, and draining, and unpleasantly cursed. So, she can't blame him for such an expression.
As he continues talking, Thal looks away, uncomfortable with the sudden vulnerability she sees in him. It's not something she's come to expect from the composed, playful man, and she finds her perception of him shifting, allowing for a deeper understanding. She doesn't run from it, but she has to adjust to the feeling in her mind, like a newer, heavier link in the bond between them.
Nodding her head, she says softly, "I see..." There's no judgement in her words, although she herself hasn't experienced more than black dreams full of searching. Despite that, she can relate to grappling with something internal and daunting. Thal lets out another soft hum as she looks around the cavern. "Is there anything I can do to help?" It's an offer not many would receive, with no string attached or bargains to be made, just a willingness to help a friend.
It isn’t something he prefers to admit on the best of days – but at this point it’s become far too much in terms of Danta’s safety that he can’t simply allow it to stand. So, it’s been a long time coming (and partners centuries ago that had fallen from a similar issue), that the butcher hopes the long scar of his too sharp teeth in his forearm will be the last.
Tilting his horned head toward her as his spaded tail flits behind him idly, his dark honey gaze drifts from the springs to scan her face – finding her gaze scanning the cavern just as his had. The offer is honest, one that truly shows how far they’ve come since their initial meeting. “I am.. unsure how much of it you wish to see.” He murmurs softly, carefully, offering a small smile – a token of just how much he values their budding friendship that he doesn’t want to ruin it by being the opposite of what he’s strived so much to become.
Astaroth
// and if the morning light sets in, we've cheated fate again //
Finally returning her gaze to Asta, there's a surprising tenderness there, although only brief. "I'll see however much you're willing to show me." She knows what it can be like to bare her heart to someone, to let them see her deep fears and insecurities, and she wouldn't recommend it to anyone despite the way it may help in the long run. Because of that, she wouldn't force Asta to do the same with her, especially when he doesn't seem to fully trust her yet.
Looking away again, Thal lets out a soft laugh. "Gods know you've seen enough of my darkness." He may not have seen her at rock bottom like Hadama, but he's seen enough of her pain to know what lies beneath. The questions he's answered have also been a dead giveaway of her own struggles, and she wouldn't insult him by assuming he hasn't noticed.
Spotting the tenderness there, it’s surprising for the butcher despite the fact that it probably shouldn’t be. Not with the way they’ve helped each other over the past few seasons. So he nods, because she’s offering, and he has to convince himself that it’ll be worth it. That she isn’t going to turn it around on him as Maea had, even however innocently the pale Ancient had meant it when she’d said it.
He can be manic and unpredictable, and at his heart a predator. But they all were deep down, weren’t they?
Humming a note to hear her soft laugh, his lips quirk a touch even if it doesn’t quite meet the rest of him, eyes still peeled even though he feels as if it’s just another empty cavern. “Have I ever told you about how I came to be an Ancient?” He asks, trying to flit through his memories to see if he’d ever let it slip. A few of those nights they'd talked had been with a bit too much alcohol, and his uncertainty in what he said at those times is evident. “I believe I might have said something about how Dygra saved me.. But I cannot recall if I gave the events that had lead up to it.”
Astaroth
// and if the morning light sets in, we've cheated fate again //
After glancing closely at a particularly white rock that proves to not be the flowers they're looking for, Thal loses any interest in the hunt. She doesn't know what had ever given her the impression that she might be the one to find the elusive flowers. It seems silly now, especially when faced with the uncertainty that doesn't quite fit Asta's features.
Her eyes look to his again, expression blank yet open as he speaks. "You didn't. You only mentioned that you were close to death..." She recalls the scars that litter his body, giving her somewhat of an idea of how severe everything had been, but he'd never mentioned why he'd been treading death's doorway, only that the goddess had been his means of salvation.
Meeting her gaze as it swings back, the butcher nods as she explains what he had told her. It’s a point of reference for him, and he inclines his head a touch, before he straightens out a wrinkle in his shirt as he figures out how best to put it without giving all of it away. Some cards he still needed to carry close to his chest, at least. Even if he somehow thinks that Thalassa might understand better than some of the others.
“Mm, I was. I was young and reckless and did not know any better than what I had been taught, and I committed a crime in a small town.” He begins, casting his gaze out along the path of the side of the hot springs they take, still wafted in the mists as it breezes through them, the stifling warmth a welcome reprieve. “Those within the town found me, inevitably. They bound me and brought me here to the Climb.” To the Crust, to be specific, though he doesn’t dwell on that now. “They kept me bound to spikes and left me there. To which I had become quite a feast for the gore crows up there.” He casts his gaze back over toward her, one hand gesturing toward his chest and his back. “The scars are so deep because not only did their beaks drive in quite far, I was not ancient and the heat simply hardened any attempts at healing my body attempted to do. However, I was there for a couple of days before I was found and brought to Dygra. I could not speak for weeks.” He murmurs, flashing her a small and sharp smile.
“That is quite a long story cut short in order to explain that I still harbor dreams of those nights, and that corvids have a tendency of, mm.. Setting me off.” In overtly aggressive, self-preservation ways that ended up ensuring when he slept beside Danta at night that he wore a muzzle. And even that didn’t stop him some nights from his panic attacks.
But just as Dygra had said, he couldn't be his utmost, optimal self unless the pain of those days were alleviated. And selfishly, he knows that he could bolster whatever kind of strength he has and have it disappear in an instant the second he heard the dreaded caws.
Astaroth
// and if the morning light sets in, we've cheated fate again //
Her eyes narrow at his story, listening respectfully until the end where her tail flicks with annoyance. "That's quite a severe punishment for a single crime..." To be essentially sentenced to death for whatever he'd done, it makes her angry and Thal can't hide the sneer that appears on her lips, fangs exposed for all to see. "They deserve death." No matter what he'd done (although she surprisingly already knows the crime), she finds it unacceptable for anyone to treat Asta in such a way, to dim the personality of the man she's come to appreciate to the point of being mute. It makes her steps snap harder against the stone, head shaking to dispel the violence that she wants to release.
"I can see why you would want to protect against that." Although she doesn't know all the details, she can't even imagine having a trigger that's so prevalent within their race. It has her making note of the fact, if only so she doesn't accidentally forget; because if she thinks he's dangerous now, she doesn't want to know what he's like when he's 'set off.'
To distract herself from wanting to tear into something on his behalf, Thal meets his eyes, the fire burning there clear to see. "Who brought you to Dygra?" Other than the 'crime' that he omits, it's the only other hole she finds, and it makes her wonder if it's someone he knew/knows. Was it another Ancient? Or someone from the town?
He doesn’t really expect her to grow angry on his behalf, but the fact that she does leads him to think that they could quite possibly be better friends than he’d originally anticipated. It does much to soothe the war that rages within his stomach as she doesn’t recoil, nor ask, so he offers a small amount of information in turn, given how he doesn’t know that she already knows of his crimes. “I suppose it is fair in the same way an eye for an eye is fair.” But he had always been that way.
Humming a note of agreement to her answer of why he would want to protect against it, his horned head nods as his tail starts evening out from its distracted flicking, waving easier behind him even if its draped quite low to the ground – the ashen portion of his spaded tail stark against the smooth stone of the springs. “Two Ancients of which are not among the rest of us. Though, whether they have passed or whether they are still statues, I am unsure.” He shrugs a shoulder easily before he glances back over across the springs. He didn't know what became of the two that had saved him, conscripted him, named him - because Astaroth had not been his name, but he had been too destroyed to correct them. So the world received Astaroth instead. And he had grown into the new persona.
“The only one from my time is Danta, and he and I were not close back then. It is a new experience.” He murmurs, tilting his head back toward Thal with an easier smile as he thinks about the Maverick.
Astaroth
// and if the morning light sets in, we've cheated fate again //
Scoffing, she raises her head in defiance. "Well, I want both their eyes. Do you know where they're buried? I'll burn their bodies." She's half-kidding, but part of her still simmers with rage, wanting to direct it somewhere. And the culprits for Asta's trauma seems like a good spot.
Just to release some of the growing pressure, her tail flicks, a blast of fire forming behind her to sizzle against the damp floor. As if she didn't just scorch the earth for no reason, Thal nods her head at the other bit of information, somewhat disappointed that she couldn't meet whoever they were. At least they'd stopped to help him, giving him the chance to be with them now in all his annoying glory.
Converting the anger to something more teasing, her eyes glitter at the mention of Danta. "I've noticed how close you two are." And is decidedly quite jealous, although she'll never admit to such. Instead, she focuses on what that means for Asta, giving him a playful grin. "I'm glad you have him." Someone else from his 'time,' who could relate in ways that none of them could. Tilting her head, she asks curiously, "Does he know about everything?" Based on his expression, she'd guess yes, but she'd hate to talk about the topic with someone who doesn't know, to accidently spill his secret.
Making a point to ignore the fire that blasts behind them from the woman at his side, he seems to genuinely think about where they could be buried – before he huffs a small snort, because the lands and regions had shifted over the centuries, if he had to guess? It was a place they both couldn’t go. “Somewhere in Halo, if I had to figure it out.” He lets the soft chuckle escape him, warming up a touch at the idea of it. “Alas, they are safe for another few centuries.” Comes the less vibrant but still playful dramatics he was known for.
One that remains as his gaze slides back toward her and he pauses in his steps to let his smile brighten as he speaks about Danta. While the memories weren’t great, it was nice to have that familiarity, even if they both had their breakdowns from time to time about the things they endured. “Would you believe me if I told you we had a few years where we often attempted to kill one another?” He asks, raising a brow toward her with the amusement growing in his face.
“He does, yes. It is part of the reason we’re so close now. Communication is quite vital, it seems.” And, because he doesn’t know if she knows it or not, but he inclines his head toward her with a slightly brighter smile. “His main shift is a gore crow, and his companion is a crow as well. So, while I have had my surprises of course, it has been an experience. I thought that I could attempt to become accustomed on my own, but it is slower than I had hoped and I have become increasingly more.. mm, dangerous, on those particular nights.” He admits with a flicker of regret before he straightens up. “So, in order to finish my quest, I must stay a night in the Climb where it all took place, I must peacefully encounter a gore crow and obtain its feathers, train within the presence of a murder of them, and lastly I must satisfy my bloodlust on one.” Which, now that he lists it out, means he’s in for quite some time of trauma until it’s alleviated with Dygra’s help.
Astaroth
// and if the morning light sets in, we've cheated fate again //
Annoyed with not being able to access the bodies, she lets out a heavy huff of breath. "Hm. For now." The threat lingers, although her smirk slowly appears, encouraged by the slight return of his sarcasm. It's much more him than the nervous, melancholy mood that the gore crows seem to bring out in him.
Which sounds extremely ironic considering how Danta can seemingly do both. She shakes her head, stunned that the men who were playfully bantering during their hunt had ever been at the point of killing each other, although she supposes her own assault on the Maverick is a close comparison. The thought makes her lips tilt in a smile, turning somewhat disbelieving at the astounding struggles the two of them must face. Part of her wants to know what he means by 'dangerous,' but there's a lot more to discuss, so she settles for a sympathetic nod of her head. "That sounds... complicated." To be scared of the person he's supposed to be closest to. At least Dygra has offered her assistance.
She considers all the aspects of his quest, thinking about how he might approach it all. Tucking a strand of hair behind her horn, she lets out a low hum. "Well, I don't have a gore crow shift, but I'd assume it'd be easier to get feathers from someone you know." That way he knows that it won't attack him. That would probably mean either Danta or Maea, although she gets the feeling that Maea might be a sore topic.
Tilting her head, she continues to the other tasks. "I can help with the training or camping out." In fact, Thal doesn't think they've ever trained together, and she likes the idea quite a bit, a fanged grin spreading across her face. "I'd also gladly kill one for you to feast on." Even if he wants to stay out of sight while she does so.
Snorting, the butcher agrees with a slight nod of his head. It’s precisely when he offers up a bit more information in regards to he and Danta, and their complicated past. That, and the complications regarding the butcher’s affinity for nightmares and his reaction bearing precisely the sharpness of his teeth. For now, though, that remains under wraps — because the butcher had gone so long being solitary that the second Danta showed him affection, he’d realized how touch starved he’d been his entire life.
Still, he’s wary of touch from others, often seeking it out first in order to show that he’s willing to receive it. Thal, however, is one of the rare few that can get away with it.
“I was intending on asking Danta for help with it.” He nods, because it would be easier to snag them from someone safe. And he knows Danta would be more than willing to be patient and gentle with him. As for the rest of the tasks, he twists a little to flash her an easier smile. “Thank you, darling. I believe I have to be the one to execute it and feast on it.” He hums thoughtfully before he inclines his head toward her. “Perhaps we can do the training? If you are certain, that is.” His dark gaze scans her face, curious if she would be interested in that if she didn’t care much about how he’d become during it. (Even if he has another one already potentially planned for that, more trainings never hurt.)
Astaroth
// and if the morning light sets in, we've cheated fate again //
