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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!
walked from revelation to revelation came back storm-drenched
Frey’s Breath had been a lifeline and source of mending prowess for years now – contorting and carrying the potential of lilies, or soothing subjects. An inspiration for their own cultivated springs within Halo (especially for a second iteration after the first was destroyed), it only seemed just and right to return, amidst the constant warm plumes and rushes of steam.
Deimos had long since pulled his hair back into a messy bun, sleeves shoved upwards as the climate changed from chilling Halo winds to naught but the thick, Climb air. Amidst their gathered, he created a multitude of buckets, all uniform and correct and identical, to eventually take home. Lining them along the embankment and rocks for both Iskra and Noah to take, he shrugged, letting the trepidations ease away. “Nice to be here and not in a panic,” came on a grin, granting some indulgence for what they’d done time after time, moment after moment, in the threshold of the horrendous, visiting Family. Here it was a lot less luck and fortune, and more tangible means to an end.
Beginning to roll his pantlegs upwards too and wading into the relaxing balms of the water, he snagged at a bucket, dipping it below the surface.
through shattered mountains and aching famine stronger than all of it
Ignoring the feeling of deja vu, Iskra reached down for one of the buckets lining the pathway. "Never came here, actually," Iskra offers conversationally. "Always preferred the Greatwood." Usually seeks out the familiar comforts of trees over the twisting slopes of rock and the roil of lava, though The Climb has it's own sort of warm charm that he can't deny. Now that they have their hot springs back in working order though, he's got even less reason to head here.
Not down to get quite so wet as Deimos is, though surely the nearby lava pools offer a quick drying solution, he prefers to kneel down and dip his bucket into the water in order to collect it. Goose is left at home to avoid any problems of a singed dog or one pouting about the excess heat, though he finds his available hand almost naturally dropping to brush the soft coat that would normally press up against him at the offer of ground-level. "I agree though, that the lack of panic is welcome."
Got me singing in the pouring rain Got me wrapped around her finger Well pardon my mannersJust something about you turns me to a savage
He’d been here more times than he could count. Each visit was branded into him by purpose. Yet, he let himself breathe it in--the mingled scents of mineral and moss, the thick, humid air--the memories layered over the present. Every time he’d come here, he’d come looking for something sacred—a reminder that life persisted, even when everything else broke. Now, they were here to gather the waters of Frey's Breath for much the same reason. Noah thought it was interesting that this is where Safrin had them come, and he wondered what depths the heralds knew about that they had yet to even scratch the surface of.
Noah, knowing where he would best be suited for this task at the moment, slipped into a different skin.Dragon scales rippled down over taught muscle on an equine frame. Golden and blue and all shades between, Noah shook his head and neck, mane and dragon-like whiskers shaking. Leaning down and grabbing one of the hands of the buckets in his mouth, the longma stepped carefully out onto Frey's Breath. Then he began the work, bucket hanging from his mouth.
walked from revelation to revelation came back storm-drenched
From the confines of the spring, Deimos arched his brow at Iskra’s response, but then shrugged. He could see understand the notions behind wandering into the Greatwood as well – they’d all committed to multiple unwinding movements to try and snag at whatever they could. As Noah stepped within in his dragon-horse form though, the Sword grinned. Not intending to inspire trepidation or apprehension, but perhaps some mild provocation.
Watching as his bucket filled, he placed it upon the rocky embankment, before grabbing at another. “Perhaps we can have a little contest,” make the time go faster – at least the idleness of the task, simple but consuming. “Whoever fills the most,” jutting his jawline towards the vessels and containers, “without spilling any,” at which he grinned – pondering how either of them would do between rushes and games, “Can have first dibs at the bakery. My treat.” Unless of course he won; and then he’d have his usual flare.
through shattered mountains and aching famine stronger than all of it
His gaze rises as the shift of movement snares at his attention. Where Noah stood, now is a shimmering horse-like creature. It causes his 'brows to rise with surprise at the sight, the creature unfamiliar to him, but impressive. As sure-footed over the water as land, he watches curiously as Noah-dragon-horse walks over the surface of the liquid as if it were any other routine terrain.
Iskra continues with his bucket, trading the full one for a new empty one, exchanging them by the stony pathway while Deimos' lays down some stakes. "Bakery you say?" and Iskra grins wide, clearly interested and easily baited. "I'm in, but, seems like Noah's got the upperhand already." He nods towards the well-balanced water-horse with four legs and an aquatic grace he's nowhere near. Then of course, Deimos has his own talents, leaving Iskra with just some pep in his step as he fills and swaps the next bucket. He doesn't mean to undo their work, but he does intend to win, and with such capable opponents....well.
He leans into the all too easy hum of power in his veins, a secretive coil of fire sent along the bottom of Noah's bucket in an attempt to boil the already warm water and make it bubble over just enough to spill some out of the rim.
Iskra says game on, fills buckets, and tries to quietly heat the bottom of Noah's bucket to boil some of the water over.
Got me singing in the pouring rain Got me wrapped around her finger Well pardon my mannersJust something about you turns me to a savage
Heat curled harmlessly along Noah’s scaled flanks as he planted his hooves and lowered his longma head toward the pool. The bucket’s handle fit neatly between his teeth, familiar now after having done this same task at Safrin's Mirror. He dipped it cleanly beneath the surface, careful and precise.
He had wondered how long it would take the warden's playful side to come out, with peace looming over them in these tasks. Without war on the horizon, he was happy to see Deimos ready to jest and play in a boyish, impish arc to their work.
The hissing made his ears pin to his neck. Iskra was trying to boil the water before Noah could even move. An indignant snort, light and playful as it was, left his maw and he stomped a hoof atop the spring water. His tail lashed once, amused.
Then he lifted his bucket and spun slightly, kicking at the surface of the water to send a massive splash right towards Iskra. Then he moved to set his bucket down on the stone, and grabbed another bucket.
walked from revelation to revelation came back storm-drenched
With the stakes sealed, Deimos grinned, granting a little juvenile wrinkle to his nose, watching as Iskra unleashed attempts towards Noah; at least, that’s what appeared to occur. While the other two could handle their back and forth, the Sword opted to fill his bucket casually, as if unbothered by the very chaos he’d intentionally set. Wouldn’t be the first, and certainly not the last.
Admitting nothing to either, especially about upper hands, he watched as splashes unfurled from Noah’s dragon-horse form, snorting under his breath, watching for any sign of water sprayed from the bucket. Arching a brow and not managing to hide his grin, he carefully and silently directed a wave of the springs to be funneled directly near Iskra, hoping the Attuned’s distraction would be enough to occupy the Abandoned, and never see it coming.
through shattered mountains and aching famine stronger than all of it
Being covert is not a natural nor a practiced skill for Iskra, as is plain as his efforts double back on him. Not only did he not succeed in setting Noah to the bottom rung of this little challenge, but he can only gasp a breath in before sheets of water come his way. So close to the source, he's splattered entirely by the spray. It soaks his hair and leaves it flat and dripping, and it recolors the front of his clothes into something darker, the dampness eventually set to crawl over his sides and back in time. Sputtering out a breath, he shakes his head, wet hair flying back and forth like a dog, and wipes the residual wetness from his face with his palm.
He's grinning though, his new bucket both jostled but equally refilled to the brim by their attempts, and the proof is hard to claim when water surrounds him with no clear source but their onslaught. He pulls it up as he rises back to his feet, sodden as he is. "Oh, that's how it's gonna be then?" he laughs as he carefully places his freshly filled bucket in line with the others, grabbing a new one and returning to the water's edge. As he's sauntering over to refill it, he pauses suddenly, then lifts up a quick and wary hand to point behind them. He yells sharp and quick, an attempt to startle them both with something that isn't actually there, hoping his acting is enough to earn a drop or two in their haste to face the possible threat.
Iskra gets soaked but has a full bucket, grabs a new bucket and tries to do a LOOK OVER THERE stunt to scare them
Got me singing in the pouring rain Got me wrapped around her finger Well pardon my mannersJust something about you turns me to a savage
Noah wasn't sure he could count on his fingers at this point how many times antics like this had unfurled at Deimos' fingertips. While dedicated to making Halo a better place, there was a certain monotony to the tasks given by the gods and heralds that the Sword simply just would not entertain. Thus, he made his subjects his entertainment in the best sort of way. Metal clinked on stone as he set the filled bucket down beside the others, still perfectly brimming.
He turned just in time to catch Iskra’s sudden, dramatic pause. His shout cracked through the chamber, bouncing off the stone like an alarm. Instinct rolled through Noah’s muscles, immediately ready having had the images of the members of the Family and their damned flora and fauna shifting behind his eyes.
The scent of the cavern hadn’t shifted. No footsteps. No threat. A rumbling, amused huff steamed from Noah’s nostrils, the longma equivalent of a grin. Nice try. He gave his mane a playful shake, flicking a ripple of heat in Iskra’s direction as if to say you’ll have to do better than that, and set to fill another bucket.
walked from revelation to revelation came back storm-drenched
Perhaps it was unfortunate for Iskra that both of them were tried and true soldiers through multiple wars – because the instant the Abandoned strived to declare some kind of emergency, Deimos snorted, eyes flickering briefly, before granting a laugh. Noah seemed to be much of the same mind, and unless there was suddenly a domineering monster coming out of the brink, neither of them were going to be fooled by such proportions. “How are those buckets looking?” he snagged instead, pretending to eye the ones Iskra had placed down. “Did you splash some out?” was an implication and a shrug, grabbing hold of another vessel and beginning to fill it.
Again, though, not without antics – saving the Abandoned from the potential of another onslaught by switching his target to Noah. Much like before, he let the incantations unfurl without notice or pause, sneaky, surreptitious, as he maneuvered the water underneath the dragon-horse’s hooves.
through shattered mountains and aching famine stronger than all of it
Well, his attempt didn't earn much of a response, which he half expected, but it'd been worth a shot. It at least earned a bit of amusement from them both, the possibility of unease shaking free with a roll of the water-horse's neck and the Sword's laugh. Iskra grins back cheekily in response, at least until a wash of heat comes over him suddenly from Noah, and Deimos' ask about the buckets reminds him of the competition he's steadily losing. "Seems plenty full to me," Iskra quips back with a shrug, because whether he had spilled some is hard to say when the waves of water sent his way refilled it.
Huffing out a breath at the impossibility of competing with the likes of them, he instead focuses on just filling his buckets as full and quick as he can. Kneeling down to dip this new bucket in while the others are doing the same, it's only the brief movement nearby that catches his eye as Deimos' water winds to a different target now. Biting back a laugh, Iskra just shakes his head, smiling as he rises to deposit his newly filled bucket with the rest.
Got me singing in the pouring rain Got me wrapped around her finger Well pardon my mannersJust something about you turns me to a savage
His bucket swung from between his teeth, handle gripped carefully so it wouldn’t slip, and every movement of his hooves sent soft ripples through the shallow water. Which, apparently, Deimos took as an invitation. Perhaps better than to assault Iskra again.
A pulse of his water magic rolled under the surface. The water rose in a small wave beneath Noah’s hooves, spreading outward like a playful tide trying to coax mischief from him. The longma had to focus to keep his balance on the turning, hotspring tide. He braced, hooves finding steady purchase even as the water surged. His tail lifted in a slow, deliberate sweep, the gesture equal parts challenge and laughter.
He tipped his head, bucket glinting with the half-filled water he’d managed to keep perfectly steady. Not a single drop escaped. Full as I think they'll get Noah responded over the attuned bond as he dipped his head down to fill his bucket the rest of the way, the lift at the end of his mental voice indicating a brow would go up were he in human form, a taunting, questioning brow.
walked from revelation to revelation came back storm-drenched
“Does it?” Deimos quipped back in jest, taking a moment to arch his brow at Iskra’s sentiments, then purposefully trying to snag a few droplets with his water incantations when the Abandoned wasn’t looking, intending to have them plop eagerly into another bucket nearby, before he snagged his attention back towards Noah’s response.
The Attuned seemed to take it in stride, at which the Sword nearly rolled his eyes – mildly bothered that neither of them took on much more of the goading. Used to provocations going back and forth, he opted to up the ante, unleashing and unfurling the same enchantments towards Noah’s bucket this time, though only on a stride or two, when the horse’s head was dipped low, striving to take a light cascade out and back into the springs.
And then, all pretenses of innocence, he dipped another bucket below the surface. “Should be enough once we are done with these.” A last round for antics and provisions.
through shattered mountains and aching famine stronger than all of it
Oblivious to the exchange of droplets, Iskra only arches a 'brow at Deimos' repetition of the question. He glances back over his shoulder, half expecting to find a jut of earth knocking one into a tilt and spilling some free, but they all seem unremarkable from this distance. He is more than amused however to watch the longma surf against Deimos' wiles, and Iskra can't keep back the laugh that rises at the antics. "See, those four legs make it too easy!" One would think the lack of thumbs would be a hindrance, but Noah just proves that horses could be doing a lot more if they had the mind to.
Not quite done with his own attempts, Iskra rouses the faintest lick of flame to heat up behind Deimos' arm right as he's finishing his retrieval of the water into his bucket. With any luck, it'll be a surprising enough kiss of heat to jolt the Sword's arm's forward a touch and upset the balance of his water, and the fire's snuffed out before it has a chance to harm or expose him.
Iskra busies himself with his own kneel and dip process, sweeping the open top of the bucket through the hot springs and carefully lifting it up, wary of what return fire might be coming his way as he aims to keep this bucket full and steady to join the rest.
Got me singing in the pouring rain Got me wrapped around her finger Well pardon my mannersJust something about you turns me to a savage
