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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 Feverlands is little more than a grey-brown smudge beneath the Ark as she sails overhead, the little region half obscured by the clouds and made even uglier by the sheets of hard rain that fall overhead. Jack has never seen it from the sky, and whilst he's sure it's probably not much to look at even on the sunniest Longheat day, to say this is gloomy is an understatement.
The Captain stands near one of the railings, collar on his coat turned high, hands buried deep in his pockets and with water magic causing the rain to stop short in a dome all around him. The rest of the crew aren't so lucky, but they've worked in much worse conditions over Deepfrost, and so as Murphy barks orders at them they're quick to obey, until the Ark is sailing below the cloud cover to hover over the swampland.
"Give it a bit to see if the rain stops," Jack calls out once he's satisfied with their altitude. "Then we'll find somewhere good to let me down." Y'know, since he's got to leave his ship a fair distance away so he can brood on her absence.
For quest req:
3. Sail the Ark through an entirely new board, somewhere he's never been before.
your promises they look like lies your honesty like a back that hides a knife
Melita had taken to the skies hours before, letting the clouds, the rain, the spectacle of weather and wide-open parallels be a place where she could drown in the wake of her thoughts. It wasn’t a normal experience – she’d much rather forgo any semblance of synapses and simply rely solely on impulse, but lately her world required more than the inherent itch and caprice of compulsion. Demigod fragments; having been yanked and pulled into channeling debacles and either being useless, a distraction, or nearly getting herself killed (again) in the process, wondering if she was even worth all that melancholic drama…then there was Iskra, drawing lines, definitions -
And oh, look, Jack too.
She’d know the Ark anywhere on the horizon; the familiar outline silhouetted against stormclouds and rain. And despite the need for mindful proportions, she unfurled the sails, bit into that mercurial state of whims and vices, and let the Firecracker speed along, draw alongside the hovering vessel, Captain, and crew.
Something she’d always thought she’d been apart of – well, until recently anyway. There were a thousand things she’d like to say, but instead, let it all linger behind her teeth until she needed to draw on those daggers. “Well, look who it is,” she shouted, completely soaked but seemingly unbothered by it all, practically hanging out the side of her ship, leaning along the railing as she waved to the crew and Jack. The faux smile planted on her features might’ve been a warning sign, but she doubted the man would care. “Long time no see!”
Melita spears through the clouds alongside the Ark like she's been following it all along, greeted by cries of recognition and hello from some of the crew who spot her through the rain. It's enough to alert Jack of her presence long before she comes into range of his magic, but when she does she's all razors hastily wrapped in silk, the glint of the blade still visible in places. But Jack is in no mood to pry open that can of worms until it pops off in his face (as per usual), and so at her greeting, he gives her a devilish bow at the waist and a half-smile.
"The one an' only," he drawls as he straightens up. "Could say the same of you. Been all over Caido from what I heard?" It isn't as though the Honeybee's exploits go unnoticed any more - not that they ever did, but now that she's a demigoddess in her own right, it stands to reason that the Firecracker is a sight people remember in their regions. (Usually because something fucky soon follows, granted).
your promises they look like lies your honesty like a back that hides a knife
Melita wasn’t certain what to do with the bow and the smile; momentarily disarmed when she’d meant to go in guns blazing, knives drawn behind her grin. It was enough to have her on the backfoot, wondering if they were going to be wandering and meandering around the line until someone slipped and there was a dagger in one of their ribcages. Even the drawl, the question, left her eyes narrowed, but that might’ve been blamed on the rain, the droplets threatening to pummel across her face. “Mm. Quite busy with the Ludo business.” An occupation of antics and amusement, along with her side hustle of beating shit up. “Even got channeled the other day.” No, it didn’t go well, and she was still working through the whole thing.
Then she had to wrestle and toy with her inclinations; to immediately strike a match or let it unfurl, kindle, spark. Melita wasn’t one for soft footfalls and quiet approaches, but perhaps it was time to try a different tactic; it wasn’t unheard of for her to learn new tricks. Still bold, still audacious, weapons somewhere in the midst, but not wholly tangible. Maybe it would depend on his response. So the inquiry came with simplicity, rather than the harsh potentials on her tongue, a long sigh as she leaned against the railing. “Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving Torchline?”
"The Ludo business, huh," Jack echoes, the slant of his smile all but challenging her to tell him what business dealings she has on behalf of the trickster herald (and how many of them involve rubber ducks). "And channelled? No wonder we ain't seen much of you." Even before his swift and sudden departure to King's End. And Jack doesn't kid himself in thinking his greeting has helped him to avoid that line of questioning - but he is surprised at the quiet softness of her words, when they do come.
"Lots of reasons," he tells her, matching her tone and leaning his elbows against the rail. "The main bein' that I was caught up in my own bullshit and didn't think to tell much of anyone. I told my black market contacts an' let the crew go who wanted to stay, an' fucked off overnight." He shrugs his shoulders. "By the time I came up for air, I'd been gone so long word had already spread."
your promises they look like lies your honesty like a back that hides a knife
Her answer came on a casual shrug at first; saying nothing of the Ludo faction, aware her own trail of antics would follow on stories. Even those a little more furtive, like water balloons in Stormbreak, to avoid the Karen-esque situations, were kept silent; a slight smile to dispatch and disperse the other emotions warring through her. “I didn’t think you’d be the type interested in duck hunting or dodgeball.” Maybe if it was pirates and more of cannonball instead. “But yeah, I’ve been keeping myself busy.”
Her eyes studied him though as he answered, waiting for something to stab into her again, much as it had when Sunjata and Flora had informed her, in different details and spectacles. Somehow, she wasn’t truly surprised – and much more plausible than the hordes of other reasons she’d come up with on her own; missing his explanations until now (she hadn’t been worth it, indifference, she was very easy to erase..). “Gotcha,” in some way, she understood. The need to escape, to evade, to tunnel and burrow or fly off, renew or disappear. “So what’s the plan now?”
"Little too busy for duck huntin' these days," Jack says apologetically, though having made plenty of chaotic decisions with Mel in the past (singing sea shanties and playing marco polo, anyone?), if something does occur that he might find amusing, she can trust he'll show his face. Especially if the next game of dodgeball involves cannons, yes.
If he's surprised that his response hasn't garnered further barbs or flares of temper, he does his best not to show it, Jack instead adjusting his stance to lean more casually against the railing, extending his bubble of magic to encompass Melita and keep her dry while they continue to chit-chat.
"Well," he says, "we've more or less settled in King's End for now. Ain't as much to work with on the smugglin' front as in Torchline, but Sunjata's crooked as fuck when he wants to be, so I've been makin' some deals with him. Gonna turn some of the hold in the Ark into a bar, since I won't need all that space." He raises his eyebrows towards Mel with a smirk, as if to tell her she's more than welcome to help if she feels like it on that front.
"An' I've been thinkin' of stealin' from pirates," he adds offhandedly, laughing under his breath. "There's a certain irony in piratin' them back, y'know?" And most people mistake him for one anyway, so why the fuck not?
your promises they look like lies your honesty like a back that hides a knife
“That’s when you need it the most,” she winked; recalling her promise of bringing amusement and chaos into the unfurled components of everyone being so serious. The war might’ve been over, but that meant many bowed their heads low and forged onward, striving to rebuild and reflect. Her responsibility lay in ensuring some of those individuals found more than just morose, woebegone sentiments.
Though, one could argue Jack might’ve paved his own path there – what with the Flora situation and all. What he chose to do thereafter though didn’t surprise her; just altering his routes through King’s End rather than Torchline’s main paths. Glancing upwards when she found the rain was sliding off and around her, she smiled again, nose wrinkling, figuring it was him even though he wouldn’t say anything about it.
The notions of pirates made her laugh though, breaking away from the shards and daggers bristling through her sentiments, and more upon how far they could reach. “Vesper and I dropped some bombs on your favorite pirates last year. I got some of my own cannons now.” No, they didn’t go terribly far – but that could always be improved upon. “Let me know if you ever want any help with that.” She had multiple methods of firepower and a constant hankering for violence.
Mel isn't wrong (loathe as Jack is to admit it even within the sanctity of his own mind) but neither does her being right create time in his schedule for the sorts of shenanigans she's prone to inflict on Caido's citizens. Perhaps another time in another season, though, the Captain shooting a wry smile her way and leaving it at that, feeling a knot of tension - a surprising one, given that he'd never admit that it had been there - start to ease behind his ribs.
Eyes lighting up a little more (and Mel will recognise the expression as a flavour of wicked amusement) at the prospect of both working with Vesper and hassling the ocean's pirate population, Jack inclining his head towards her as if in recognition of her efforts. "You'll be first on my list," he drawls, before glancing out at the sheets of rain beyond the prow of The Ark. "For now though, you flown over here before? I gotta leave the ship for a bit an' I'm lookin' for the least dangerous bit of the swamp to get low enough."
your promises they look like lies your honesty like a back that hides a knife
Her brow arched at Jack’s smile, a trace of huh left in her mind, not bothering to reflect on it further – though, perhaps the last time she’d seen it had been in the middle of a fight, or something equally violent. Leaving it alone, she yawned and stretched away from the railing, her eyes going towards the Feverlands in general. “Yeah. I can lead you a little further in, where it’s not real shit. But this whole place fuckin’ sucks,” she warned, rolling her shoulders and peeling towards the sails again.
Letting them unfurl, she waited until Jack was ready, before beginning to peel their way amidst the swampy doldrum, presuming he’d follow. Even without the constant rain, the lands themselves leave a lot to be desired – the constant aroma lifting upwards to strike them in the senses, and the putrid fog winding its way through the vessels. Eventually, they came over an area that while still an all-consuming shithole, didn’t seem the kind to swallow the Ark whole. “Here might be good,” she hollered, hands cupped around her mouth so her voice wasn’t lost in the rain.
"Mm, I noticed that much. Seen enough of it near the shore to figure it's all several shades of shitty, but good to know there's no surprises in store." Jack can at least prepare for it to be gross, and when it is he'll have only met his own expectations. So, gesturing for Mel to lead the way, the Captain is forced to retract his little umbrella shield so he can step back to the deck proper and give orders.
The Ark is quick to obey, at least, and given that Melita is a trusted source (of chaos mostly, granted, but still) they settle easily en route behind her until she decides they've reached the safest part of a place that's all danger. "A'right!" Jack calls back, manipulating the air currents to let the Honeybee's voice carry a little better on the wind towards them.
With a few further orders, the ship starts to make her descent into the bowels of the Feverlands, and Jack approaches the railing again. "Much obliged," he quips, grinning. "Maybe once I've finished business here you can drop by at King's End at some point? I'm easier to spot in a port than you."
your promises they look like lies your honesty like a back that hides a knife
With the Ark where it needed to be, Melita saluted, already beginning to adjust her sails again, intending to depart from the shitlands shortly. Her head tilted, catching the words on the wind, giving a nod. “Sure – I have to see my uncle anyway.” Multiple business trips and venues, it seemed, with memory mud to be scorned and pirates to be blown up.
Later, she might reflect that this meeting had gone far better without her incandescent rage spilling out everywhere. Whether or not that meant she’d try the same tactic elsewhere, would remain to be seen.
Regardless if this was growth, learning, or just a spinoff of the usual Honeybee flare, once she was certain everyone was settled, she bid adieu with a salute and wave, before the Firecracker ascended back into the dreary rain.
