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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!
Was this worth it? Definitely not. Other than that initial punch, her plan had gone to shit, and now she was left bleeding from no less than three deep slices, pain radiating across her arm and back, strength leaching quickly.
The brief brush against his foot eased some of the suffering, a shiver wracking down her body as it attempted to stop up the worst of the bleeding. She couldn't stop the sigh of relief at the smallest dampening of the pain, the halting of his assault. Her strength was gone, her body broken, but she still felt the anger there, the injustice at having been attacked so brutally even when infected. And being unable to even the score.
Curling her hand into a fist, Thal growled at his words, at the apathy disguised as mercy. She wanted to rise - wanted to land a proper punch this time - but when she tried to push from the ground, excruciating pain laced up her body, a strained growl turning sharp as she dropped back down, shaking with effort but unable to rise.
Her breathing was labored, yet she spared enough to mutter, "Bastard." She lifted her blazing blue eyes to him, teeth clenched and brows furrowed in a mix of hurt and frustration, unable to fight and unable to flee if she wanted to.
Glacier eyes bore down on the ancient, jaw feathering again. He scoffed at her insult. Noah had been called worse by people he liked better. He watched her try and fail to rise, watched pain grip her and hold her body tighter and harder than her iron will. His tight jawline slacked some as his lips pulled down into a frown. He reached into his jacket with a tired exhale.
Crouching just out of reach of her grasping hand he pulled out a small stoppered flask. The glass was clouded from travel and use, the liquid inside catching the red-gold light and glittering within. "This is a healing elixir. Nothing else." His voice carried the weight of the truth of it. He didn't have anything in the flask that would harm her. He set the flask down on a flat spur of crystal within her reach and slid it the last few inches with two fingers.
Straightening, he put space between them once more, posture loose but ready if she tried something desperate. "It's not going to sew your arm back together, or your back, but it'll give you enough strength to stand up. Maybe make it somewhere else but here."
Noah has offered to Thal:
Single Use Basic Healing Potion
Type: Light | Style: Other | Level: Basic | Cost: Action
Am I a prisoner to instincts or do my thoughts just live as free
And detached as boats to the dock?
Sucking in deep breaths, she could feel blood continuing to ooze, the right side of her face aching from its impact to the ground, her horn feeling like it may have hit first with how it throbbed into her skull. Her glare turned into a wince as she tried to shift again, the movement pulling at the openings in her back, her vision rippling unnaturally. And yet, she could still hear clearly as the man spoke, although she didn't comprehend what he was saying. 'A healing elixir?' He just nearly killed her and now he was offering a healing elixir?!
Shocked, her eyes looked to the vial, to the swirling liquid within. Instincts scream 'poison,' urging her not to take an unknown substance from a stranger, particularly one who's just cut her open and left her nearly helpless on the ground. Except that he'd easily subdued her, and if he'd wanted to kill her, Thal had no doubt she would already be greeting Mort's realm. And yet, she didn't know him, didn't know if he was cruel enough to relish the betrayal on her face as she drank her own death. None of it made sense.
She didn't reach for it, didn't so much as move more than her piercing glare to him, fangs on full display. "Why?"
Noah didn’t answer right away. He studied the suspicion in her glare, the pain she tried and failed to hide, the way she still bared her fangs even with blood pooling beneath her. From all his time on the tundra, he had become accustomed to the fact that survival rarely looked polite.
“Because if I wanted you dead,” he said at last, voice worn at the edges, ”you would be.” His shoulders rose and fell with a slow breath. The Sentinel hadn’t stopped on accident.
He didn’t take his glacier eyes off of her. ”Ending you on a cave floor because you made a bad call and I hit back harder is not balance. That’s indulgence. You took your shot. You paid for it. That’s where it stops.”
He nudged the flask a hair closer with the toe of his boot, then stepped back again, careful, contained. Mercy didn’t need agreement, and Noah had never followed a god of death.
Am I a prisoner to instincts or do my thoughts just live as free
And detached as boats to the dock?
She didn't argue his words, didn't deny the truth in them. It hadn't been lost on her that he could easily kill her, but she also hadn't used all her abilities, and regret laced her thoughts, wondering if her quest was worth the beating she'd earned. Maybe she should have just burned the man's fur off and been done with her revenge. Now, what little strength she had was being used to keep her body weight off her injured arm, doing what she can to minimize the pain.
At his words, Thal couldn't help the laugh that broke through, the strained sound dark and mocking. "Wow. You really believe that bullshit, don't you?" The world wasn't fair and she didn't believe there were good people in the world, people who cared more about righteousness than exerting their power over others. No, there was only one reason she could see for his actions, and the disbelieving shake of her head was cut short by the nauseating pain. "This is just to keep your conscience clean." A crook of a smile cut sharper than her fangs, the humor lacking in her certainty, daring him to contradict her.
Noah let what she said pass over him without visible reaction. He didn’t rush to defend himself, didn’t snap back. She needed him to be simple. Cruel or hypocrite. He shook his head once, faintly. He did not need to convince her what he had done in his life—the things he had faced, the lines he had crossed and survived. Beasts and monsters. Dragons in burning skies. Cannibals in frozen wastelands. He had stood against ancient demigods and lived through it. He had walked through divine illusion and helped bring an end to war.
His gaze drifted over the blood on the crystal floor, the ruined set of her arm, the stubborn fire still lit behind her eyes. Leaving her here would have been easier. Cleaner. No risk, no argument, no second-guessing. Mercy was the heavier lift; it always had been. "If I wanted a clean conscience," he said as he half-turned away from her and back from where he came, "I’d have walked away and let the cave finish it."
The flask still rested within her reach, untouched. He made no move to push it closer again. The choice mattered more if it stayed hers. Her judgment did not weigh on him. When fully he turned to leave, and make his way back through the Climb looking for signs of Tanau, he would carry the same measure of himself either way.
FIN
Am I a prisoner to instincts or do my thoughts just live as free
And detached as boats to the dock?
