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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!
It'd been a long while since Deimos had set foot within Stormbreak, but with the Family gone, Dahlia dispersed, and Zavien now at the helm, it was safe to walk the streets again – well, mostly. It was clear that some portions had yet to be fully restored, which wasn’t surprising, given priorities. Besides, at least in this iteration, the task called for Monster Hunters.
And he luckily had the right crew for the job – excited, somewhat experienced, and promising to listen.
He waited, content in the morning sun, outside the hallowed halls and front door of the Trinity Temple; still as daunting and massive as ever, accompanied by Zuriel and Belial, for oversight and healing purposes should anything go truly awry. He gave a few nods to some passersby, but otherwise remained silent, studying over the notes until everyone arrived. Glancing as each made their way over, he nodded to Theea, Damien, and Hawthorn, presuming they knew one another enough for greetings to get out of the way and for business to be attended to. “Thank you for coming. Seems the Temple has a ROU problem.”
From there, he dispersed identical journal pages – each on the horrendously large and blind pests, for them to peruse for a moment and get a semblance of potential heights and depictions. “Our job is to find the nest and eliminate them. Let me know if you need any weapons. Otherwise, get yourselves ready and then we can head in.”
--
Welcome to the ROU Monster Hunt at the Trinity Temple! Your characters have been given an outline of what ROUs look like and can do (much like the Flora and Fauna encounters page). Please have your character arriving and let me know at the bottom of the post what they brought along with them!
09-01-2025, 06:52 PM (This post was last modified: 09-02-2025, 03:43 PM by Theea.)
Theea
know this ain't for the weak
or for hate, it's for soul
I thought my next time in Stormbreak would be a tour with Mateo—sticky buns, star maps, the whole fun sort of day. Maybe I’ll still find him later. After I cut my way through a bunch of ugly, massive rats. Plus, this is its own kind of fun, right?
Thick pants, heavy jacket that actually fits (bless every layer between me and chisel-teeth), I jog up the temple steps with a grin that bites like the morning. The boys are already gathered in the sun; the Trinity Temple rears over us, all arches and shadow, like it’s holding its breath.
"Morning boys," I say as I approach, breath clouding. I spot Hawthorn—supply lodge designer with an easy grin—and lift a hand in greeting before I bounce right to Damien’s side.
The moment I meet his eye, something in me sharpens. The air narrows, the noise blurs, and there’s that quick, bright thrill in my chest—fight-ready and a little reckless. I shoulder-bump him, solid. He steadies me without even trying. I look up at him and can’t help the smile that rises, warm and stupid for half a second, then I school it back into focus as Deimos passes out journal pages.
I already know a bit about ROUS—but this page is absolutely helpful. I lean toward Damien and Hawthorn. “They’re kind of cute in an ugly way,” I murmur. “Not that I won't split it from ear to tail.”
For Deimos, I draw the shortsword he gave me and give it a neat little twirl. It’s heavier than a dagger, sure—but the weight feels good, like a decision I mean to keep. My twin daggers sit snug at my hips, faithful as ever. I incline my head to the Warden. “Ready when you are.”
Stormbreak was always a bit of an awkward place for the courtesan. After going most of his life well aware that Abandoned weren’t welcome, it had taken some time to prove to himself that it was open and welcoming for them once Sohalia had taken over leadership a little while ago. And since then, he’d only really dipped his toes in a number of places – Zavien’s home, the noodle place he liked to go to, the silk houses, and the library (which just so happened to be where he met the man that’s invited him out to help today).
So, in an effort to learn more and do more with his magic, Thorn shows up. Dressed in a thick sweater beneath a waterproof jacket, the courtesan greets Deimos with a smile, before he aims one at Theea and then, finally, flashes a more friendly and knowing look to Damien. Easily finding his spot at the woodsman’s other side, his seafoam gaze flits up to take in the task when Deimos explains it.
A soft warm chuckle leaves him to hear Theea’s comment while they study the ROUs, flashing her a playful grin. “I can heal if they get nippy.” He offers out before he’s withdrawing a sharp blade from his sleeve – no longer coming woefully unprepared like he had when he’d had to face the fyrhund’s in the Climb.
Thorn brings a sharp dagger! But he has magic and is ready to use it for the hunt.
09-02-2025, 08:03 PM (This post was last modified: 09-02-2025, 08:07 PM by Damien.)
Damien
Damien’s boots crunched over the cobblestones of Stormbreak, the morning sun bright enough to burn the lingering chill from his shoulders. He kept his coat pulled tight, leather pack resting heavy against his back, and the new weight of a battle axe at his side. Crossbow slung over one shoulder, every strap adjusted to fit just so—he didn’t like fussing, but he liked knowing his tools were exactly where they should be.
Aria wasn’t with him. The snow leopard cub was back in Halo, being looked after by an old musher. Damien sometimes minded their dogs for them—it was an old favor called in and returned, nothing more. She would be safe and, as Damien glanced up the street, he for a moment imagined her playing gleefully with husky puppies. Meanwhile...
The Trinity Temple rose before him, solid and patient as ever, and Damien stepped up alongside the others. Theea was there soon after, quick with her grin, her shoulder bump landing against him like she knew he’d be the wall to steady her. Damien’s mouth tugged at one corner, almost hidden in his beard, as he met her eye. “Cute, huh?” he arched one eyebrow, “don't know if that's the word I'd use.” His tone carried a dry amusement, but his glance lingered half a beat longer than it should have before he looked back at the page at hand.
On his other side, Thorn’s voice cut in, warm as ever.
Damien blinked, then huffed something that might’ve been a laugh. “Didn’t expect to see you here.” His head tilted slightly, taking in Hawthorn ’s appearance and easy grin, an edge of surprise softening into something almost fond. “Guess I should've. You’ve got a habit of showing up where you’re needed.”
He tested the axe's grip in his palm, before settling it against his shoulder. “Hopefully you don’t have to patch any of us up. But if it comes to it—it'll be good to have you here.” He glanced over at Theea with a thoughtful expression in his eyes.
Then his gaze returned to Deimos, the weight of the job pulling him steady again. “Alright. Let’s get it done.”
What Damien brought: crossbow, battle axe (from the armory ;) thx), leather backpack with tools and supplies
Deimos begged to differ on the ‘cute’ presumption – he’d seen the damage they could do, and didn’t find ROUS to be of much use. Tilting his head as the others came in, he nodded at each, content that Hawthorn had healing as well. “Zuriel can too,” jutting his jawline towards the unicorn – who simply snorted as they all proceeded into the massive building, ready and eager.
If one stepped in without prior notions of a rat problem, they might not have noticed. The massive interior of the sanctuary and sanctum seemed solid and stoic – candles flickering, organs upright, pillars and pews empty save for a few with heads bowed and quiet, offering their prayers to whichever old god they favored. Nothing untoward. Nothing suspicious.
But there were clear signs elsewhere – the sometimes-echoing sound of a squeak amidst the walls or beneath the floor, holes amidst the softened, archaic stone, remnants and trails of breadcrumbs and other leftover food not yet savored, snagged, or stolen. His eyes flickered towards the floor, narrowed, because they would need to pinpoint the location of the nest before they committed to any slaying. They’d be able to see one another quite clearly across the wake too – so it wasn’t as though they were wholly splitting off. “We can look around – but the point is to find where they are hiding. Stay in this room – we can report our findings after.” Then make some decisions.
--
Investigate the room! You may select one of the following:
- North side
- East side
- South side
- West side
- NPCs currently praying
- Pews in center
Please note your selection/actions at the bottom of your posts.
you're all bronze and bite all venom and fistfight
09-03-2025, 02:54 PM (This post was last modified: 09-03-2025, 02:55 PM by Theea.)
Theea
know this ain't for the weak
or for hate, it's for soul
I lift a hand to Zuriel like she might remember me—and maybe forgive the graceless way I got got on our last hunt—then fall in step behind our Guildmaster. The cathedral swallows us whole: cool stone underfoot, high ribs of shadowed arches, candles guttering in pools of honeyed light. The organ looms like a sleeping beast. It’s been a long time since I’ve stood here, and the hush settles over my skin like a blessing.
"I'll go ask around," I say. I glance to the boys; my smile hooks helplessly longer on Damien. There’s a sharper current in me today that turns bright when he’s near—focus honed to a point, heat steadying in my chest—and then I peel myself away before I forget what I’m here to do.
I drift toward the worshippers, soft-footed along the aisle, careful not to break the quiet more than I have to. I stop a respectful distance and tip my head, letting warmth reach my eyes. “Um… ’scuse me?” My voice stays low, meant to belong in a place like this. I sit a few feet away rather than looming. “I’m so sorry to interrupt. I know you’re in the middle of something—but you’ve heard about the ROUS problem, I’m sure.”
I flick a glance back down the nave—past pillars, past flickering light, at Damien’s broad shoulders—and return to the praying figure. “We’re with the Monster Hunter’s Guild, here to clear them out. Have you noticed where they’ve been scurrying off to? Any holes, sounds… anything at all?”
Thorn’s gaze flits to the unicorn in question, dipping his head in a bit of camaraderie to a fellow healer in their little group. Though, that’s not to say he doesn’t have other tricks up his sleeves – like air, telepathy, and illusion. Things that could very well be useful for the task of conquering the ROUs.
Turning briefly toward Damien with his usual flash of a smile, all charm and playfulness, it’s a bit softer toward an old friend. “It’s like a sixth sense.” He mutters roguishly, before he’s stepping into the space with the rest of them. Initially, there seems like there’s nothing here – but upon further inspection (and Thorn’s apt attention toward the building’s structure) he can see the holes and crumbs left behind, the brief sound of scurrying and scraping nails beneath the floor.
Theea offers to ask around and Thorn dips his head toward her as a thanks before he takes a look at the rest of the space. “I’ll go north side.” He announces, already stepping over slowly and lithely to try and ensure he isn’t too disruptive in case they are over here.
Damien followed the others into the hush of the cathedral, boots sinking against the cool stone. Candles guttered and shadows stretched high above; the organ loomed like a ribcage waiting to breathe. He took in the scratches along the floor, the ragged holes chewed into the stone, the faintest sound of nails dragging beneath. The kind of signs you didn’t need a page to explain.
Theea peeled off toward the worshippers, light on her feet in a place where even whispers felt like they pressed too loud. His eyes tracked her for a beat longer than they should have, catching the way her voice dropped soft to fit the quiet. Then Thorn split north with his usual charm, tossing Damien that grin like he’d expected to meet him here all along. Damien just shook his head faintly, lips twitching against a smile. Thorn could make a rat’s nest seem like a social call.
“I’ll take the south side,” he said, voice pitched low but carrying across to Deimos. Adjusting the crossbow strap on his other shoulder, he started along the aisle toward the far wall, footsteps careful not to echo. His gaze moved between the floor and the shadows overhead, searching for fresher claw-marks, droppings, or food trails the pests might’ve dragged this way. Every few steps, he glanced back—first to Thorn, then to Theea—keeping both in the corner of his sightline. Rats weren’t the only things that hunted in packs.
Damien investigates the south side, keeping watch for signs of fresher tracks or holes while also keeping an eye on Thorn and Theea.
Deimos nodded at each in turn, but kept his eyes upon the surroundings the entire time. Focusing in on his compatriots, he watched, waited, and listened, marching over to the pews in the center, while sending Belial upwards, to investigate amidst walls on the western portions. The empty rows themselves didn’t seem to harbor anything grand – though he could’ve sworn he heard the telltale scrape of something beneath floorboards and stone – and he began to quietly peel back the portions with his earth magic, striving to look as though he were doing nothing more than staring at the fixtures.
Theea ‘s investigations would yield some results, though the few praying whipped their heads up despite her quiet platitude. “The ROUs?” One gasped – as though perhaps they’d been remiss in hearing of any daily news. “Should we start fleeing? Do you think they could be here, right now?” One older woman turned to the elderly gentleman sitting beside her, already beginning to fret. He answered a little more calmly. “Can’t hear ya dearie – did you say ruse?” Which was probably safe to say they hadn’t heard anything at all.
As Hawthorn checked the north side, around ornate décor and portions stuck to the wall, he’d hear the oh-so-telltale sign of something scurrying. Perhaps a passerby had left behind food. Maybe all they needed was a piece of old rock and rubble, but there were indications of a beast lurking nearby, perhaps huddled behind a podium?
Damien walking amidst the southern side wouldn’t preside or provide much either – except for where the nest wasn’t. No tracks. No holes. Nothing – unless he deigned to go help any of the others.
--
Deimos is busy peeling up some floorboards/stone by the pews with his earth magic.
Theea’s question might have started a slight panic with the praying NPCs, but its difficult to tell given one being hard of hearing.
Hawthorn has heard some scurrying around the northern end behind a podium.
Damien has found nothing. :/
Options for this round include: keep searching (the east hasn’t been checked over yet), help someone else, calm down the NPCs, or in Hawthorn’s case, report findings! No post order!
you're all bronze and bite all venom and fistfight
09-09-2025, 09:22 AM (This post was last modified: 09-09-2025, 09:25 AM by Damien.)
Damien
Damien’s circuit of the south wall gave him nothing—no trails, no gnawed stone, not even the stink of a nest. Which was its own kind of answer: if the rats weren’t here, they were somewhere else. He cast one last look at the base of the pillars, then turned back across the nave just as voices rose sharper than candlesmoke.
Theea sat a few pews down from a knot of worshippers, her words soft, but the older pair had stiffened, one fretting aloud, the other squinting as if he hadn’t caught a syllable. Damien exhaled through his nose, set his axe back against his shoulder, and crossed over. Not to take the reins from her, but because a dozen blind rodents the size of dogs were trouble enough without a panic stampede in the middle of the Temple.
As he reached Theea, he laid a hand briefly against her shoulder—solid, quiet weight, enough to let her feel he was there—before shifting his stance behind her. His dark eyes fixed on the older couple.“No need to run,” he said, voice calm, like he was coaxing a spooked horse. “We’re here before the vermin get bold. Best thing you can do is clear out quiet. Take your time, but take the front steps. It'll be safer.”
His gaze flicked to Theea, a half-beat of reassurance before it settled back on the elders. He wasn’t built for charming words, but he knew how to project steadiness, how to anchor a room by standing still. If they needed something to trust, they could trust that.
Damien abandons his south-side search and moves to help Theea with the NPCs, aiming to calm them down and encourage them to leave the building quietly.
know this ain't for the weak
or for hate, it's for soul
I frown when none of them even seem to sense the ROUS—despite the chewed stone, the crumb trails, the tiny scrapes threading under the hymn of candlelight. I’m not put off by their fear. My mouth opens to reassure them, to offer an arm and walk them to the doors so the Guild can do its work—
—and then Damien is there.
His hand settles warm and steady on my shoulder. I pause, breath snagging as I look up at him, perfectly grounded, steady as always. Gratitude flashes first with a warm smile; shame nips right after. My ears burn. I should’ve handled this.
“Thank you,” I murmur, too soft, eyes skimming past him as I stand. I give the elders my best smile instead, gentle and sure. “You’ll be perfectly fine to return in the morning.”
I peel off fast, heart in my throat, and cut toward the east aisle. The cathedral cools around me—stone ribs, gold-flicker candles, the organ’s shadow like a sleeping beast. I force my focus down to the work: ground, walls, seams. I crouch to trace a knick where teeth maybe have worried mortar thin; the air smells faintly of damp bread and old oil. A fine scatter of crumbs glitters near a column base.
Don’t think about the mess-up. Don’t think about what Damien thinks. And don't keep messing up.
I breathe, slow and even. I can still be useful, right? Keep people safe. Find the nest. End the pests.
I press my palm to the stone to feel for vibration, then pace along the east side in short, careful steps, eyes and ears tuned for the blind hunters: the light drag of claws, the hush of bodies squeezing through, the thread-fine squeak that tells me I’m close.
Theea leaves the NPCs in Damien's hands to search the east!Q
It comes as a surprise to him, nearing the wall and around the décor. He hears the skittering of feet, the little scrapes of toes as they dive within crevices not yet seen. Thorn lingers and makes sure that he isn’t simply making everything up. And when he finally pulls away from it quietly, he takes note of the people praying that seem spooked by something – his seafoam gaze flitting from Damien to Theea before he decides ultimately to let them figure it out for the moment.
So, to Deimos the courtesan goes – careful to step around and not draw too much attention. “I found some of ‘em at least.” He says in a quiet voice for the Warden’s ears, trying to ensure those around them don’t overhear too much. Of course, he doesn’t care if Theea and Damien listen in, but he wants to make sure the bystanders don’t have too much to worry about while they do their investigation.
Between Damien and Theea ’s words of assurance, the older individuals widened their eyes – staring blankly, before looking around the vast expanse of the cathedral. Perhaps then it dawned on them that there was something else afoot, and it’d be far better to be out of range and away from the impending fight. “Oh, well, thank you dears. Nasty things, those ROUs,” came from the older woman, as she seemed inclined to grab at the elderly man’s elbow. They began to shuffle and scoot in slower strides towards the door, all in good time too –
Because as Theea would note from the eastern portions, the northern bombardments, and then, finally to where Deimos was surreptitiously peeling the stone away from the floor – there was a very large den underneath. There was no telling how long they’d been there, but given how Stormbreak had been treated in the past few seasons and years, it likely didn’t much matter. It all needed to be eradicated.
Nodding at Hawthorn as he indicated his own findings, the Warden’s eyes were fixed downwards. “Think the nest is here,” to which, as the earth pooled and pulled apart, there was a mass of feathers, down, sticks, branches, and bramble knitted together – and one telltale tail exiting the area, tunneling further where the Sword had yet to unfurl. “Got them, they are under the floor!” He announced, just as Theea would discover scrambling right beside her, scratching and crawling. But it would remain below –
Until several, clearly enraged by being discovered, began to shuffle their way through the open sanction – and Deimos loosened an immediate barrage of Life Drain towards the beasts.
--
The NPCs are out thanks to Damien and Theea, and now some ROUs have found the rest of the lot! Decide how you’ll attack and/or defend. Please indicate which/how you’ll be targeting.
Deimos has already unleashed Mastered Life Drain magic on the group of ROUs.
know this ain't for the weak
or for hate, it's for soul
The worshippers’ footsteps fade toward the doors and a knot unclenches in my chest. Embarrassment lingers hot in my ears, but I shove it down and listen. There—beneath the boards—scratching, a rasping chew that travels along the ribs of the floor like a saw blade. I adjust my grip on the shortsword, thumb finding the nick in the guard, and glance toward Deimos just as stone parts under his will. The nest yawns up at him—feathers, down, old sticks—and his warning snaps across the nave.
The floor bursts.
A blunt, reeking weight hammers through the opening—hide like wet leather, teeth like chisels, whiskers skittering. And holy shit It. Is. Giant. The ROU screams at the lash of Deimos’s magic, and the sound saws straight through me. The switch flips. Everything tightens into angles and choices: footing, distance, line.
I shift left, light on the balls of my feet, breath soft and measured. The sword comes up in a short, mean arc—no flourish, just work—aiming for the soft line where throat meets jaw. I yank back before it can latch, slipping back and to the side, a hard-to-catch flicker of shadow behind a flame, eyes cutting for the next lunge and the next opening.
