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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!
"Yeah, that ice was just pretty tough." He offered a small, tucked smile towards Iskra. Then, he let a pulse of his own magic shift through him and his muscles. It was enough to give him a boost to move snow. Shoveling and moving snow was a normalcy in Halo. Marcus moved with a practiced, mindless motion that moved as much snow as his strength would allow.
Marcus stepped towards the unicorn and let her magic to the rest of the work. She was more powerful in this area than he was, so while he had used his own magic to pull threads of muscle back together, he could feel her true power work through him. He stepped away from Zuriel feeling as if he had slept a full night, and as he munched on the well-made and deeply appreciated breaad, he felt even better.
But there was more to be done.
His face pulled down into a snowl at the sight of the memory mud. Without offensive magic to throw at it like Iskra or Deimos, Marcus made an attempt to scoop at the mud and srpead it out so it would lose its shape.
Marcus heals himself (lol basic baby) but then lets Zuriel heal him more, eats some bread, and then gets back to work by trying to mismantle some memory mud with his shovel!
Healing (Abandoned/Hybrid): Heals minor wounds at basic level.
Type: Light | Rank: Basic | Cost: Action
Finishing off the pastry, Deimos dusted his hands off and snorted at Iskra’s comment. “You must have missed the memory snow dinosaurs then,” at which he rolled his eyes – the distinction still clear as day in his mind and the rambling assaults upon the Citadel. Courtesy of rambling, frozen, primordial creatures (not the first nor the last, but certainly enough inspiration between wars and mishaps to warrant much of Halo’s defenses).
Zuriel, her work done, snorted when she wasn’t granted any thanks or gratitude from the youth, raising her head in a seditious manner, before flicking her tail and heading back towards Deimos. The Warden arched a brow, but kept his focus away from the mare’s disdain, and more on the matter at hand. Deciding he’d shift, he settled into his hellhound form and took several churns of the area, permitting the fiery stomp of his paws to meld and burst into the grime.
Iskra ’s flames worked through the portions, scalding, bubbling, and brewing over the mud. More than once little shrieks could be heard – but Marcus found himself with a more pressing issue. As he dismantled the strange substance, it opted to reform around him, and began to surround him from all sides, obnoxiously clinging to his boots.
--
About half of the memory mud in the area is gone, but Marcus is “surrounded” by the muck.
His lips twist with a wry smile at the mention of the prehistoric raid, one of those things that, while terrifying in the moment, could be laughed about a bit better now. "Sadly I was out of the city that day," he remarks as he finishes his own treat before getting back to heating up the mud, especially now with the reassurance that Marcus is well and healed.
He offers a shake of his head and a bounce of his 'brows at Marcus as he earns the unicorn's ire. Iskra has been in his same boots once, learning since to be a bit more grateful to the companion's kindnesses. With the work of torching the mud taking up his focus, other than a glance spared towards the shift of Deimos in his peripheral, he doesn't notice the new plight Marcus is entering into.
It's only when his swath of ground bubbles back and wails into dried completion does he turn and see the slow movement of chaos. "Watch out!" he offers, far too late, as the semi-sentient globules ooze up Marcus' leg. Wary of unleashing either element in such close proximity of the other man's skin, Iskra grabs for the axe on his belt. "I'm good with an axe, could shave some of it off," he offers, glancing over to Deimos. "Or maybe your water magic?"
Marcus didn't notice what was happening until it was pointed out to him. He was so focused on the task at hand, and thought he was doing a great job, that until he lifted his cerulean eyes as others spoke he had no idea that as he scraped away at the memory mud, it seemed to surround him and form around him, like a slow tide deciding he was shoreline. He turned in a quick circle, just as some of the mud sploshed up towards him.
“Agh!” Marcus exclaimed, confusion and frustration running up his spine. At Iskra’s offer, his eyes flicked to the axe and then back up, a wry lift to his brow. “I’d really prefer to keep both legs the same shape, if we can manage it.” he said, trying to push back against the mud and the frustration within himself all at once, as though both were intent on swallowing him whole.
The hellhound’s ears twitched back and forth as he continued to romp around, stomping upon the mud and listening to it squelch beneath his paws. Iskra’s voice carried over the amusement though, and his head went upwards, attention upon the matter at hand.
Heaving a sigh, he shifted back, watching as Marcus aimed to shove back against the mud. Iskra ’s ax made him snort as he approached. “I do not think we need a sharp weapon for this,” he indulged with amusement, not that he doubted the Abandoned's capabilities, but mostly because it seemed like asking for the younger Olson’s leg to be mauled.
Then he unfurled a precise, angled amount of forceful water upon the memory mud. It squealed as it went airborne, then landed nearby, before dissipating entirely. “There. We can finish up this area and we should be done for the day.” There were a few spots of the muck and grime left, and unless they all got surrounded by the stuff again, they should be able to wrap things up efficiently and quickly.
--
Marcus has been freed from his memory mud prison. Finish off the rest of the mud!
Amusement lights up Iskra's features, and he can't hold back the temptation to rib the younger man a touch. "Oh I could chop up both legs for you then," he laughs good-naturedly, stepping back with a shake of his head as Deimos steps in to provide the actual relief. "One time is all it takes for people to doubt my axe skills huh?" he furthers the jest, never having taken an axe near a limb before, unless ursurs counted and then it had been intentional severing.
Still, with the excitement dying down, so too does his laughter as he turns back to his own patch of unruly ground. Yanking flame from another nearby sconce, he works the heat into the moving mud until it hisses and quiets into stillness and obedience once more. Among it he continues to work at defrosting the worst of the ice that has lingered on the roads and rails as well, the chill deep from the stretch of cold that LongNight brings here, the worst Halo always sees. Salt could only keep so much of it at bay.
Iskra uses more fire on the mud and ice to get the roads and railings back to a good spot
Marcus laughed out loud at Iskra's joke, though there was a slight wrinkle to his eyes that wondered if, only briefly, there was a hint of truth in there too. Would the abandoned really cut off his legs? Marcus didn't think so, but...
Best not to dwell on it.
Happy to be freed from the mud via Deimos' magic versus Iskra's axe, Marcus moved on. Huffing out a breath and rolling his shoulders once, Marcus set to work with his shovel again. Instead of scooping and spreading, this time Marcus scooped up shovel fulls of the mud and plopped it in empty buckets nearby.
Deimos snorted at Iskra’s implications, not bothering to ask who’d been mauled in the past (and probably better off), and moved away from Marcus, back to his own work. But he kept a careful eye on both, while Belial meandered overhead and Zuriel planted herself near the bakery door.
Between flares of fire, concentration and focus upon water enchantments, and the old tried and true method of scooping, shoveling, and spreading, they could attribute a large amount of success in a short amount of time. The mud eventually found its way into dissipating (until it resurface again, later, they could suppose), and the driven ramparts of ice, rime, and snow were maneuvered elsewhere or melted away. The roads and the bakery’s surroundings could at least have a brief reprieve in light of everything amidst LongNight’s threshold.
Dusting his hands off, Deimos glanced around, taking in the progress and eventual efficiency. “This looks good. We can call it here and maybe grab some more food,” he hinted with his head tilted towards the aroma of more fresh goods wafting through the scenery. “My treat. Good work today.” Once they’d snagged at their tools and companions, they could head out, a job well done and secured.
