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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!
Grimm is prowling through the Celestine, checking on various creatures and habitats, changing dressings and repairing exhibit structures where needed. The day drags on, rain falling everywhere but the desert biomes. It's become easier to move in his sea panther shift, the slick fur letting the water run off in rivulets while his webbed paws keep him from sinking into the growing mud. The heightened senses help too, his nose twitching and ears perking for signs of trouble amongst his wards, although he doesn't need any of them to catch the shift in the air, an anticipatory pressure building in an unmistakable hunt.
All the fauna know the rules here, that there is no hunting amongst the residents of the Celestine, that this is a safe place for them to heal and live in peace. Anyone who threatens that has him to deal with.
A low growl sounds in his chest, the vibrations reverberating through his horns as he lowers his head, stepping around a tree towards the shoreline. A pair of tide jaguars lurk in the shadows, their glowing pelts shimmering softly in the overcast afternoon sunlight. In their sights sit a pair of shangyangs, the aquatic birds soaking in the rain. Believing themselves safe under his care, they don't bother to notice the threats licking their chops, tails flicking in preparation to feast upon their lithe forms.
What if I hurt you, what if I leave you What if I find somebody else, and I don't need you What if this goes south, what if I mess you up What if I break your heart in two
Leaving the Celestine shrine behind her, Colt doesn't mean to dally any longer here before returning to the ship she chartered and getting her ass back to Hak Etme with what paltry haul and supplies she had wrangled from ports here and there and Stormbreak's less than forgiving seas and wastes. Yet, her eyes cannot help but coast past the exhibits as she walks, and as she goes she catches the subtle, yet unmistakable creep of something dangerous up ahead.
With her hands currently in her front pockets, Colt slows, alarm flooding through her in a way that's kept her alive plenty of times before. Something is wrong. She doesn't know the ins and outs of the Celestine well enough, but had always deemed it rather safe here. Surely, it'd be so to invite people in to wander amid such dangerous, recovering beasts. Yet...Lena's death and the circumstances around it remain an itch in the back of her mind. A sorry affair, but a worrying one too, because if something has escaped once, it can do it again.
Pressing herself more flush to the side of the walkway opposite the movement she recognizes now as a stalking cat, a Sea Panther to be exact, Colt's breath holds in her throat. She doesn't know preceisely what it's got in its view, the sea panthers and their subsequent prey out of her current view, but she does know that's not the Sea Panther exhibit, and that it's a Sea Panther that had already gone Houdini once.
What if I was made for you and you were made for me What if I just pulled you close, what if I leaned in And the stars line up, and it's our last first kiss What if I loved all these what ifs away
Received a Gilded Market wig from Remi that resembles her usual hair and is enchanted to stay on better than most wigs | has a reverse centaur tattoo on her left hand with the legs going down her pointer and middle fingers that looks like this.
More focused on the threat amidst his protected jurisdiction, Grimm doesn't note or care about the woman slinking in the sidelines. If she becomes an obstacle, he'll find a reason to care. For now, he lowers his head, the growl threading across the open sand like the roll of thunder, violence on the horizon for those who don't heed its warning.
As he pads closer, the tide jaguars lower themselves, ready to pounce on the unsuspecting birds. The growl slowly reaches them like a plume of shadowed darkness, their heads turning in sync to take in the sea panther stalking ever closer. Their ears pin back, tails whipping behind them while they look between themselves, debating whether to take him on or find prey elsewhere.
Grimm uses their indecisiveness to creep slowly between them and the birds, sending a pulse down the bond to encourage them to be elsewhere, however, as they take off into the raining sky, the tide jaguars seem to take that as a sign for them to strike, rushing forward with yowls of indignation.
What if I hurt you, what if I leave you What if I find somebody else, and I don't need you What if this goes south, what if I mess you up What if I break your heart in two
Fear threatens to hold her steadfast for a moment, her heart feeling like its in her throat. A hand curls over the railing behind her, wondering if she could slip into whatever that exhibit is, if it's be safe. She has her arrow and bows on her, slung across her back like always these days, too on the move to leave them aside, but she knows it'll take more than one shot to bring down a sea panther. Perhaps calling for a spirit to escort her away would be the best move.
At any rate, the panther at least seems well preoccupied, and she's happy to keep it that way. Her pace stays slow and quiet, still trying to head herself towards the exit, but trying to creep in a way to avoid being more appealing prey than whatever the beast has its sights on. The thundering roar makes her pause, an involuntary tremble rolling through her, breath hitching. The creature has closed the gap though, and through the hammering worry, her gaze finally drifts over the other set of stalking large cats. Tide jaguars, also where they don't belong. The fuck is going on here?
Ahead, the shangyangs take flight, and motion explodes in a domino effect all at once. The tide jaguars pounce forward, and the sea panther isn't far behind them. Colt's eyes widen, and she fumbles hurriedly for the bow and a sharpened arrow from her back. She's not altruistic enough to care about the flapping birds, in fact she thinks the world could do with less birds, regal as shangyangs are. No, Colt lines up a shot because the sea panther might be mighty, but he's outnumbered, and she is even more so. She'd like to ensure there's a connection of violence between the predators to buy herself a better chance to flee. A missed pounce and a hungry cat might soon find her. So Colt nocks an arrow and looses it towards the leading tide jaguar's neck.
The Pencil Sharpener | An earthen quiver that sharpens any arrow placed inside.
Type: Dark | Style: Offensive | Level: Mastered | Cost: Action
What if I was made for you and you were made for me What if I just pulled you close, what if I leaned in And the stars line up, and it's our last first kiss What if I loved all these what ifs away
Received a Gilded Market wig from Remi that resembles her usual hair and is enchanted to stay on better than most wigs | has a reverse centaur tattoo on her left hand with the legs going down her pointer and middle fingers that looks like this.
As you walk past a narrow stretch of the Celestine, the light dims subtly, the path flanked by tall stone walls overgrown with pale, trailing vines. Beyond a low iron fence lies an enclosure shrouded in mist, its interior obscured by drifting fog and layers of softly glowing warding runes carved into standing stones.
A sound rises from deep within.
The banshee’s wail echoes faintly at first, distant and sorrowful, carrying through the enclosure like wind through a graveyard. It is not close enough to see — only a pale shape moving somewhere far back in the mist — but the sound alone is enough to make the air feel heavy, grief-laden.
The magic surrounding the enclosure absorbs the worst of it, muting the scream into something mournful rather than lethal. The stone beneath your feet hums softly in response, as though the Celestine itself is holding the sound at bay.
The wailing fades and rises again, never approaching, never retreating fully. Whatever the banshee is mourning, it does so in isolation, given space to grieve and heal without its sorrow spilling beyond the warded stones.
Banshee
Areas Found: Hollowed Grounds, Greatwood — Rare
They take the form of a skeletal lady wrapped in rags. Some wander the woodlands, singing a haunting melody. Others sit near streams and weep. Either way, disturbing these creatures will cause them to become very aggressive. They can pursue their prey seemingly without need for rest, and will strangle all those that they catch.
Stealth & Perception: Moves with ghostly silence and can pinpoint the slightest movement or sound Darkvision: 60 ft. Ethereal Sight: uncanny awareness of its surroundings
TRAITS
Incorporeal Movement: Can pass through objects and creatures Merciless Watch: Never rests in pursuit unless forced more than a mile away.
ACTIONS
Corrupting Touch: A ghostly hand reaches out to grapple a target and inflict necrotic harm. Strangle: While grappling, the banshee squeezes with bone-cold force to crush its victim. Haunting Wail: Unleashes a terrifying scream that can burst eardrums and stun nearby creatures.
The tide jaguars leap for him, his Attuned bond too weak to dissuade them from attacking. He crouches, bracing for the impact when an arrow flies, imbedding in the loose fur of the first predator. All three of the big cats turn to look at the source, a sudden wailing sound echoing in every direction, permeating the air like a chill, leaching joy and life from everything it touches. A low whimper escapes the jaguars who have tucked their tails between their legs. Their hackles are raised, ears drawn back, a panicked look in their eyes that look less at Colt and more behind her to where the stone stands, vibrations rippling out into the sand.
They both take a few, slow steps back before turning tail, stumbling from the unsettling sound as if it were a physical force. But Grimm's eyes are on Colt and the hand she'd carelessly placed too close to the banshee's resting place. Without time to worry about being 'kind' or 'gentle' or 'nonthreatening,' he lets out a low, frustrated growl and lunges at the woman. He rushes to clamp his teeth around her jacket or the strap of her quiver where he can drag her away from the banshee's stone, trading softness for survival in an attempt to get her away from the wailing shrieks.
04-20-2026, 11:40 AM (This post was last modified: 04-20-2026, 11:41 AM by Colt.)
COLT
What if I hurt you, what if I leave you What if I find somebody else, and I don't need you What if this goes south, what if I mess you up What if I break your heart in two
There is little satisfaction in watching her arrow hit its mark when all beasts turn their ominous gazes directly to her. Maybe she should have made a break for it and run while they all locked proverbial horns. Feeling rather like a deer in headlights, Colt simply stands, gawking for a moment, fear creeping insidiously into her gut. She's willing her legs to move yet they remain planted, sweat making the bow in her hand feel slick. Internally she's already reaching to pluck on a golden thread of her channeling ability, half a mind to summon a spirit ferry away from here. Though, it's her last channel, and she is worried the desert's plights might require it more. Then again, she need not worry about her future much longer if she never makes it out of this very moment alive.
Dread and despair consume all other thought and feeling as the awful wail rises behind her. Despite the muted effect, its a devastating noise. It trembles through her with a visible course from head to toe. Her teeth bear down on themselves, eyes widening as the slither of grief born on sound lances through into the very stones, the feel of them vibrating against her boots finally shaking motion out of her. Run, her body screams wholly and unquestionably now, panic rising up into the hollow space where everything else had been and fled.
Run, just as those jaguars across the way did, the image barely registering past her unblinking gaze. Run, like the sea panther is doing now, towards her, she realizes a breath too late. It's only enough time for her to reach back for a sharpened arrow and then it's upon her. The sudden impact snaps her back into motion, arrows rattling in her quiver with the force as she is dragged forward, stumbling as she tries to haul back. She screams wildly in response, fury meeting the fearsome creature tooth for tooth as Colt swings the arrow fisted in her hand towards the panther's eye in a savage attempt to injure a weakpoint and maybe convince it to release her, perhaps long enough for her to truly flee this place. She would not be going down today without a fight.
Colt tries to stab Grimm in the face with her sharpened arrow
The Pencil Sharpener | An earthen quiver that sharpens any arrow placed inside.
Type: Dark | Style: Offensive | Level: Mastered | Cost: Action
The Wildwatch: Hunter’s Presence: Rolls with advantage against regular creatures (anything marked with a difficulty of Normal or below).
What if I was made for you and you were made for me What if I just pulled you close, what if I leaned in And the stars line up, and it's our last first kiss What if I loved all these what ifs away
Received a Gilded Market wig from Remi that resembles her usual hair and is enchanted to stay on better than most wigs | has a reverse centaur tattoo on her left hand with the legs going down her pointer and middle fingers that looks like this.
He snags at her clothes, doing what he can in the moment to avoid flesh as he yanks her away from the banshee's cries. She's not heavy for him in this shift, and his larger form manages to lift her from the ground enough to move with some semblance of speed, intending to get them as far away from the sound as possible. The fabric barely holds, straining against his teeth while he drags her flailing form, holes punching through in some parts in exchange for the grip he finds.
Still, her frantic movements prove to be an obstacle, his paws nearly tripping over her as she yanks his head with her struggles. He lets out a frustrated growl, ears pinned to block the sound of screaming (from both banshees) and eyes fixed on the bend in the path where he can get them both out of range, leaving the creature in peace.
But Colt has other plans.
A hand reaches around his head, the sharpened tip of an arow rushing towards his golden eye with lethal intent. He doesn't have time to think. Instinct has him skidding to a halt, head whipping to the side as Grimm releases her into a heap on the ground, putting distance between himself and the sharp object that would have blinded him. His rumbling growl cuts through the wails, a warning that's echoed in the tension he wears. The sound doesn't stop, shifting without pause as he takes human form. It presses from his bared teeth as he stands over her, anger rolling off him in waves, eyes wild from the rush and pinned on her.
What if I hurt you, what if I leave you What if I find somebody else, and I don't need you What if this goes south, what if I mess you up What if I break your heart in two
She can feel herself being carried despite her best efforts to refuse, heels trying to catch a hold in the ground but raised too far off it to properly reach. The great beast is too strong for her, and its hunger is a persistent thing, though so is her outrage. Her wailing does little to deter it, and all hope resides in the arrow she swings around. It works, albeit in a different way than expected.
She doesn't feel the warm, slick spray of blood that she anticipates, just the jostling smack of the ground against her body as she's tossed unceremoniously upon it. She winces at the sudden slam, but she's already reaching overhead, fingers scrabbling against stone for purchase, heels sliding and shoving back against the surface of the floor. Anything to put distance between her and her demise.
Her breaths are ragged, and she's certain the only reason she doesn't yet feel the pain is because her adrenaline has kept it from her. It'll come soon, when she touches the wound, or sees it, or when the flood of run drains from her and leaves nothing but the raw reality of how close she'd come. Things she can't really afford to think about, not yet, not when those teeth still lurk so nearby.
She knows, because she can hear them holding back the yowl. They do a poor job, the noise cutting through deep and terrible anyway, although the pitch changes, and the shadow on the ground shifts. Grunting, Colt glances back over her shoulder to see her progress, and there finds no cat, but a man. A familiar, very pissed off looking man. It's such an opposite of her expectation that for a moment all she can do is stare, mouth run dry, heart still hammering in her chest, hands and legs still working as if they're independent now and adament on crawling her to safety. "GRIMM?" she blurts out in a rush, the sound finding her as she inhales, the motion breaking through the fear in her chest like ice thawing.
"What the fuck?!"
What if I was made for you and you were made for me What if I just pulled you close, what if I leaned in And the stars line up, and it's our last first kiss What if I loved all these what ifs away
Received a Gilded Market wig from Remi that resembles her usual hair and is enchanted to stay on better than most wigs | has a reverse centaur tattoo on her left hand with the legs going down her pointer and middle fingers that looks like this.
Colt crawls backwards, his name echoing sharply between them. With a little bit of distance from the banshee and a lot less hearing outside of his shift, the sound doesn't pierce nearly as sharp, but Grimm's growl deepens, nose wrinkling with distaste for the loud sound or the shouting that follows.
Fury pulses off his damp chest, covering more than the pants he wears as he stalks her retreating form. His hand raises, disbelieving that she has the audacity to yell at him in his Celestine after he'd saved her from suffering the banshee's wails. "Didja 'it chya 'ead?! The 'ell we'e ya thinkin'?! Puttin' yo' 'ands on da banshee's stowne?!" The thick cut of his accent rolls indiscriminately through the words, anger punctuating syllables and rounding out others as he gestures sharply behind them to where the banshee's stone still vibrates in the distance; then he motions towards his face as he accuses her, "Then ye neayly took moi oiye owt!" Teeth bared with the hint of a point, Grimm breathes a hot and frustrated huff of air as he looms over her. "Loicky oi di'n't boite yo' awm off!"
What if I hurt you, what if I leave you What if I find somebody else, and I don't need you What if this goes south, what if I mess you up What if I break your heart in two
Even as the realization comes, so too does the fact that he's still coming for her. Colt's terror that'd waned at the familiar face is still there in remnants of her pulse, flooded in the fringes of her thoughts, tangled in the short heave of her breaths. She keeps shoving herself away, finally hooking her heels under her enough to begin to rise, one hand braced back for purchase on a nearby enclosure fence.
The audacity of men.
"I was thinking you were a murderous sea panther!" she hisses back in response, her relief short-lived in the face of his own outrage. Not that she could blame him, she'd also be pissed if someone was trying to stab her, but she doesn't run around as a deadly cat either. "You need to wear a fucking collar or something," she declares with less joke than it might sound, expression blazing with the defiance of someone who had literally just been fighting for their life. "You're lucky I didn't channel a god here to vaporize you." That she nearly had makes her swallow. The second time now she's almost killed someone shifted.
Sighing heavily as she gets her footing back, Colt leans into the fence. "Well, fortunately, neither of us did any of those things." Not biting off arms, not decimating lives. "I just came by to pray to Frey," she explains, eyes sitll bright with the alertness of adrenaline. "I'm more than happy to leave you and your banshees to whatever the hell this is." Chaos, she decides.
What if I was made for you and you were made for me What if I just pulled you close, what if I leaned in And the stars line up, and it's our last first kiss What if I loved all these what ifs away
Received a Gilded Market wig from Remi that resembles her usual hair and is enchanted to stay on better than most wigs | has a reverse centaur tattoo on her left hand with the legs going down her pointer and middle fingers that looks like this.
Logically, he can see why Colt would be frightened, can understand why she seems to have mistaken him for a 'murderous sea panther' when it hasn't even been a year since Lena's death; but - contrary to what people might suspect - he isn't the one who killed her, and Grimm knows that whatever sea panther did wouldn't have run at the shrieking sound or bothered not to rip her head off the moment it was close enough.
As Colt stands, he gives her just enough space to do so, but he doesn't back down, the adrenaline still pumping through his own system, the sounds too loud, the frustrations clear in the tension rippling through him. "Sea Pantha's don' loike loud soun's. Any in thei' roight minds wouldn' run at ya!" He presses a hand to his forehead, grateful the banshee is far enough away for the ringing in his ears to fade, even if this infuriating woman continues to talk nonsense.
Grimm flicks his other hand, teeth bared at the thought of wearing a damned collar just because she can't recognize when she's being helped rather than harmed. "Sho'e, pu' a bell onnit while yo' at it!"
Another growl rumbles in his chest, too annoyed to care if she might have called a god to smite him. His skin is tight, resembling the rustled fur of his shifts with how his hair stands on end. His eyes are narrowed to darkened slits when he moves his hand aside to look down at her, battling the aching pressure in his ears. "Jus'... don' go 'round touchin' thin's," he groans, wanting to point out that she's already doing it again by leaning against the fence of an unknown enclosure. Lucky for her, it's just the ramphires, but it could have easily been something dangerous, and she's looking like an easy target - again.
What if I hurt you, what if I leave you What if I find somebody else, and I don't need you What if this goes south, what if I mess you up What if I break your heart in two
Colt's knowledge of beasts is admittedly limited to the ones she's worked with the most, which definitely doesn't include sea panthers. Dogs, horses and their ilk, cattle variants, and all the flora and fauna of King's End she knows like the back of her hand. Hak Etme she's been studying, and since joining the Wild Watch she's been exposed to quite a few new sorts, usually dangerous and deadly and set to be exterminated. There are certain traits one can infer, the way prey runs and predators stalk, the way anything fights for what makes the most sense in terms of survival, and the way faces are always sensitive and weak. She's by no means a complete behaviorist and field scientist though.
What Grimm says does make sense, admittedly, and she huffs with the complaint of not having that thought sooner. "All the worse then, to know a sea panther not in its right mind was coming for me." A bit more of her nerves and frustration yield to the humor as a twitch of a smile dares interrupt the rebuke. "Maybe you'd been rabid." He brows lift and she pointedly looks to the corner of his mouth for foam.
Despite his annoyance, her own ebbs further away, and a short snicker responds to his sarcastic addition. "Well, now I know what kind of present to get you for the future." A collar, with a bell. Red seems like it'd suit him. This allows her to gather her breath and her composure better, and she gets her balance back under her fully, leaving the fence be, although she does miss his point entirely. "I won't touch a damn thing," she assures, rolling one shoulder with the promise in clear dismissal of the potential. She means to get the fuck out of here as fast as possible, so all she'll be coming into contact with is her heels on the pathway floor. "Thanks for the hospitality," she mumbles with a crooked slant to her lips and a farewell dip of her head, and then she turns and departs, each stride helping her leave behind the clawing fear and replacing it back with her surefooted confidence of heading onward.
[FIN]
What if I was made for you and you were made for me What if I just pulled you close, what if I leaned in And the stars line up, and it's our last first kiss What if I loved all these what ifs away
Received a Gilded Market wig from Remi that resembles her usual hair and is enchanted to stay on better than most wigs | has a reverse centaur tattoo on her left hand with the legs going down her pointer and middle fingers that looks like this.
