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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!
06-06-2026, 11:02 AM (This post was last modified: 06-06-2026, 11:03 AM by Deimos.)
Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
The Barracks were a return to normalcy after strange circumstances, and Deimos craved the opportunity and chance to unfurl and unravel those liberating effects of magic. Before long, he’d gathered multitudes of his constituents out in the colder ventures of the open portions, past climbing walls and into the formation of wide-open spaces and an endless sky, surrounded by icy endeavors and pockets of snow. “First one to hit the target,” of which he’d sent upwards on a string of Air enchantments and mischief, “Can have one patrol evening off,” a modest and inspiring challenge, he thought, and he could always fill in the empty slot.
But that proved to be tricky, purposefully, for the masses, as he dragged the floating effigy back and forth with unpredictable factions. Lightning flashed and missed. Fire encountered nothing. Water fell in vague rivulets, and hordes of frustrated faces and features either glowered at him or the target itself. All the while, the Sword wore a content and amused smile, teasing and taunting and allowing his mind to not be filled with the unknown, vague mysteries from the Peepholes.
Eventually, one of the soldiers did manage to chunk off a piece with another flicker of elements, and there was an uproar of victory and laughter, and so Deimos began to lower the constituents, now with one less leg.
Marcus had not intended to spend the entire afternoon buried in books, but by the time he finally pushed away from the table and stepped outside, his shoulders ached and his head felt crowded. As he rolled one shoulder back, be decided he coulduse a good stretch. With that in mind, he made his way toward the Barracks.
As he entered the yard, however, something unexpected caught his attention. The usual sounds of sparring and drills had been overtaken by loud cheering. Marcus slowed. A crowd of soldiers had gathered near one of the training yards, their voices carrying across the courtyard in excited bursts. Some were laughing, others clapping shoulders, and more than a few seemed genuinely impressed by whatever had happened. Curiosity quickly replaced whatever else he was thinking about and he adjusted his angle toward the commotion instead.
The closer he got, the more he heard. Fragments drifted through the crowd. Someone had actually done it. Someone had finished one of Deimos' challenges. Judging by the soldiers' reactions, whoever had completed it had done it at the end of all their ropes. Lifting a brow, Marcus weaved through the soldiers as they dissipated to their next things, and stopped just shy of the Warden, who had his back turned to him. "Sounds like that was quite the challenge." Marcus said after clearing his throat, a smile creeping across his Olson features.
Lowering the target, to be defenseless in the future interims and intervals, he snorted and laughed amongst the rest. Once tallies and timeframes were taken, they’d all gone to clapping on backs and dispersing, so by the time Marcus arrived behind him, Deimos had already calculated a few other steps. Turning his head to glance over his shoulder at the young Olson, he managed another slight grin, strides beginning to maneuver in the direction of braziers and refilling the portions so the embers were more than just mere spitfires. “I do not like to make things easy,” came on veracity for the multitudes, and while he coaxed new flames and peeked into other venues, his mind wandered to more inquiring states.
And while most could be centered on things occurring outside of the periphery, he let his calculations stay here instead. “What brings you here?”
Marcus' gaze followed Deimos as the Warden moved toward the braziers, watching the easy way he tended the flames while speaking. "I noticed," he said with a crooked grin, glancing back toward the training yard where the last of the soldiers were dispersing. "sounds like they earned whatever praise they got, though."
His attention returned to the Warden, and at the question, he rolled one shoulder again, working out the lingering stiffness from hours spent sitting. "Oh, I just came to stretch my legs. Been stuck reading most of the day." The admission came with a slight grimace. Marcus enjoyed learning well enough, but there was only so long he could remain still before restlessness set in. "Figured I'd spend some time training before my brain turned completely to mush."
He hesitated for a moment before continuing, since it was the Warden's wife who had assigned his reading. "I've been working on my water magic." Marcus explained. "Or trying to, anyway. Reading about it only gets me so far. I was thinking about seeing how well I can actually use it in a spar." One brow lifted slightly. "Assuming I can find someone willing to risk getting splashed while I figure out what I'm doing."
“They did,” he surmised, tending to the last brazier requiring inspection, before turning his attention towards the armory, and Marcus simultaneously, listening as the young Olson described his day – cultivating his mind, despite any frustrations with said aspect. Deimos figured everybody needed to sharpen their wits just as much as a sword; and some necessary details and scribing could be found within a tome that might not yield on the battlefield. Both were necessary – it was why he tried to ensure Erebos took up the habit as well. “Understandable,” he noted with a slight wrinkle to his nose; restlessness was akin to his normal, every-day life as well, usually battered between necessities and other ongoing perils. Nor did he take it as a slight towards Evie – she would’ve granted Marcus the assignment for one reason or another.
Placing a few more blades and spears back to where they belonged, his brow arched again at the implications, muffling a snort. “I could make a deal with you – I need to use my fire magic offensively or defensively to strengthen it,” granting the lad a choice of the matter.
Marcus watched as Deimos returned weapons to their proper places, the easy efficiency of the motion making it obvious how many thousands of times he'd done the same task before. The offer drew an immediate grin across Marcus' face. It had been mostly a joke when he'd mentioned finding someone willing to get splashed, but he certainly hadn't expected the Warden himself to volunteer. Although, he really shouldn't have been surprised -- all Deimos had ever done was help Marcus when he needed it.
There was no hesitation in the agreement, though a flicker of excitement settled somewhere beneath his ribs and flashed across the white of his teeth as he still grinned. Training with Deimos was rarely something a person turned down, even if it usually meant discovering new and inventive ways to get knocked flat on their back. Still, that was the point. If he wanted to improve, there wasn't much sense in seeking out easy opponents.
"I can work on using my water magic offensively." The younger hybrid suggesed, already turning possibilities over in his mind. Water still felt unfamiliar in his hands compared to his healing magic. "You can use your fire defensively."
---
Marcus stepped into the training ring and immediately sought out the nearest source of water—a half-filled barrel left beside the yard. Remembering the motions he'd studied, he planted his feet and drew one arm in a smooth arc. The water answered sluggishly at first, sloshing over the rim before gathering itself into a wavering ribbon, his brow furrowed with concentration.
Rather than trying to force it forward, Marcus tried to guide it, turning his hips and sweeping both hands outward. The ribbon coiled around him like a living thing before snapping forward in a broad, whipping strike aimed at Deimos' center mass. It wasn't elegant and certainly wasn't perfect, but there was a set determination to his jaw that Deimos would see Cordelia in. Marcus followed the attack with another push of his hands, trying to add force behind the water as it surged toward the Warden in a small, yet cresting wave.
Decisions made, he offered a brief chuckle through his chest, before heading into the training ring with Marcus in tow. “Very well,” with his usual air of nonchalance, save for the small smile tucked in the corner of his mouth, eternally ready to unfurl his incantations at any notice.
His brow arched as the younger hybrid snagged at a container; meaning the enchantments had yet to reach their full potential. It would come with time, as most did, but it gave Deimos the information he required and where the layers and levels of potency resided. The concentration and focus bridged across the Olson’s brow was another tell – he’d seen the same expression on his own son’s face, striving to force and build something that wasn’t as adept yet.
Regardless, he gave Marcus time. Moments were valuable. While he could study, the other could strive, attempting to concoct and construct his first blow. When the water whipped toward him, the Sword tilted his head and took a breath.
The fire flared around him instantly, strong and stalwart, pervading and constant. Rather than giving chase though, given how they’d orchestrated one another’s offensive and defensive means, it surrounded him, not unlike an infernal wall, extending outwards to catch the surging water. As it crashed into the embers, they hissed with a feral steam, collapsing briefly before restoring themselves in the fiery enclosure.
Marcus winced as the water vanished into a cloud of hissing steam, his concentrated face falling for a moment into some semblance of disappointment before he quickly gained control over it again. The Olson determination recoiled and painted once again over him. The remaining water hadn't disappeared entirely. Some still lingered in the barrel, while more had splashed across the packed earth and snow between them. Marcus shifted his stance and swept one arm low. The water responded immediately now, confidence replacing some of the uncertainty from before. Thin streams slithered across the ground like winding creeks, spreading outward rather than charging straight ahead.
Then he moved.
One hand rose while the other pulled sharply to the side. The scattered water obeyed, gathering from multiple directions at once. Instead of forming another wave, it coiled into several narrow whips that lashed toward the fiery wall from different angles. Not powerful enough to break through, perhaps, but enough to test his limits.
His eyes narrowed, watching Marcus speculatively. Limitations with water would be an issue, and if he used too much against the fire, there wouldn’t be much left for future assaults. It would make for another notion for the younger hybrid to configure through, and though momentarily disappointed, he didn’t look to put out.
Head tilting, he waited against for the next motion. On this interim, he’d scattered the droplets, pulling and maneuvering them in different directions. “Clever idea,” he rumbled and invoked, because if the Olson was facing someone with a lesser experience than Deimos, it might’ve thrown them off, made them pick and choose on which interval to intercede and utilize.
Alas, it was the Sword after all – and as the water whips lashed into the fire, he simply reformed them, granting Marcus an instant to see where the ripples ate and tore at the flames, before replacing the segments, then, simply to see what he would do, he made the wall that much larger, almost as if the inferno was giving chase. “Do not be afraid to alter it either,” by way of thought – like ice. While it might not be best against fire, it could be used against another.
Cerulean eyes moved up and between flames to see Deimos as he spoke. Marcus nodded once at the advice, committing it to memory even as the expanding wall of fire rolled toward him.
He let the thought settle instead of rushing another attack. The water he'd been manipulating gathered around him again, no longer spread into thin ribbons but collected into a single swirling mass that orbited his limbs. He drew in a slow breath, and rather than trying to overpower the flames, he focused on changing the water itself.
The edges of the swirling current thickened. The liquid grew sluggish, its surface frosting over before shards of ice bloomed through it like crystal flowers. With a sharp thrust of both hands, the frozen mass fractured into a volley of icy projectiles. Instead of sending them all at once, he staggered the attack, each shard following a slightly different path. Some flew low toward Deimos' legs, others arced toward his shoulders, while the last remained tucked behind the others until the final moment, emerging from the wake of the first volley in an attempt to disguise its approach.
While he knew he wasn’t going to break through the Warden's fiery defense, the young hybrid simply wanted to see whether changing the water's form forced Deimos to answer differently, and to take the more seasoned advice well.
Instances like these helped determine potential – whether advice would be taken, magic could be wielded properly, incantations would adhere to their user and be controlled, or the simple actions of drawing plans together. Trying. Striving. Safe in the threshold of training, where one could press and practice without the worry of mayhem falling down around their heads. He’d done much the same for anyone in Halo, or those who’d requested it from outside the wintry kingdom, would continue to do so when Erebos, Amhran, or any other family craved to find ways of defending and sieging.
He granted a small, slow smile when Marcus took his time, considered, planned. The water altered and changed, becoming icy shards, fractals pushed and pulled together into sharpened, serrated edges. “Good. Now you are thinking,” he obliged, watching as the plunged weapons were released at different intervals.
By and large, of course, the flames condoned them quickly; the wall he’d built consuming and eating them away into melted droplets and nothing but the barest hint and hiss of steam. “Depending on your range, you can consider going from different directions as well.” To ensure his enemy faced a barrage on all sides – keeping the fiery wall ablaze at his behest and decree.
