Click here for a list of weather descriptions, seasonal festivals, and a real time:site time conversion.
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!
LongNight has settled over Torchline, drawing a black curtain across the coast with no moon, no stars, and no hint of sunrise waiting beyond the horizon. That has never stopped Torchline from making its own light of course, and all along the white sand, bonfires burn bright against the dark, some crackling with ordinary flame and others blooming in shifting, magical colours. Torches line the beach between them, guiding the way along the coast where the waves roll in glowing blue, the bioluminescence catching around ankles, footprints, and the edges of the tide.
This year’s celebration stretches along the shoreline, with plenty of room for anyone brave, foolish, romantic, drunk, competitive, or all of the above to join in. Groups have gathered around the fires with drinks, food, stories, dancing, and all the usual Torchline-level encouragement toward bad ideas. The jungle looms warm and dark behind the beach, the ocean gleams ahead, and between the two, the longest night is being turned into exactly what Torchline does best: a party.
For those looking to test their nerve, the highlight of the evening is the encantado fire-hoop jumping competition. Participants will ride the magical dolphins through flaming hoops set just off the coast, with cheers from the shore, glowing water beneath them, and absolutely no promise that dignity will survive the attempt. Whether competing, spectating, heckling, or pretending they were definitely about to sign up before thinking better of it, everyone is welcome near the waterline.
And for anyone in need of a drink before or after the festivities, The Last Word is officially open. Rebuilt, ready, and far too pleased with itself, the new bar offers shelter, alcohol, and the kind of atmosphere best suited to celebrating surviving the dark (or making questionable choices in the middle of it).
Open ME to celebrate LongNight and party!
I'm a force that you will dread, set me on fire, I'm still alive
Coming from the strangeness of the desert and the dreamscape that snuck up on him, none of it feels like it can find them here. They're untouchable, not even permitting the darkness to creep in beyond the firelight and the laughter. Or that's the sense Kaisel carries with him as he walks down the beach, expecting no problems larger than unruly encantados. Outside worries will return in time, but here and now, the warmth of Torchline pushes back fiercely against the bleakness of the night.
With hands fisting his hips, legs spread, Kaisel surveys the flaming hoop beyond the water with no semblance of caution in his expression. "I'm definitely doing that tonight." Stripped of his soldier attire for now, his first round of patrols complete, he stands in more suitable casual wear. This includes a yellow tank top that bears Ronin's face laughing open-mouthed in cartoon-style on the front, sunglasses each bearing part of his name, White in one, Knight in the other. Beneath that, he's got on his hot pink board shorts with little white encantado prints on them, and the barefeet of a man intending to be in the water before long.
Glancing over his shoulder, he lifts up a hand to his brows out of habit, despite there being no sun to shade and improve his view. He's looking for Flora, having misplaced her while he worked, and so he squints through the glows of the bonfires in test of a familiar shape, the bracelet on his wrist equally casting out a net of awareness for her.
Kaisel
Bet you didn't think that I'd come back to life, stronger
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
You're my lighthouse in the darkness when the storm is comin' in
With his back to the bonfire blazing merrily behind him, hand curled around a beer freshly acquired from The Last Word, Iskra has just finished settling on the beach towel spread over the sand. Much like collecting snacks and a cozy blanket in preparation for a movie, so Iskra has assembled himself, and Melita, for the spectacle of the long evening.
One leg is crossed over the other at the ankle, one of his flipflops threatening to flip right off and flop onto the sand. His pale legs reflect almost eerily in the fightlight, feet rimmed by the blue glow of the bioluminescence that repeatedly breaks on the waves and moving people along the shoreline. His black hoodie keeps him warm while his forest green board shorts keep him in line with Torchline beachwear.
"So is the goal to be the fastest or just to stay on?" he wonders alound, head tilting over his shoulder to direct his gaze to the Honeybee. She should know everything about her region, he'd stand to reason, despite not being able to claim the same of his own.
A low-hanging tree nearby is heavy with strange fruit, its branches sagging beneath the weight of several Molten Pineapples clustered together. Their spiked skins glow faintly, heat shimmering in the air around them as they cling stubbornly to the limbs.
Now and again, one shifts, its stem cracking with a soft, ominous sound before dropping free. It hits the ground with a dull thud, splitting slightly as warmth seeps outward, scorching the earth beneath it. The others remain where they are, swaying gently, their glow pulsing as if in response.
The tree creaks quietly under the combined weight and heat, leaves curling at the edges. Whether more will fall or the cluster will remain intact is uncertain, but the warning is clear enough for those paying attention.
Molten Pineapples
Areas Found: Torchline — Common
These pineapples have adapted to Torchline's environment, developing a protective layer that withstands extreme temperatures. When harvested, their juicy, heat-resistant flesh is a favourite treat among the locals.
Culinary Favourite: prized for its flavour and resilience; Extended Freshness: resists spoilage longer than most fruit
TRAITS
Heat-Resistant Flesh: remains fresh and juicy even in extreme temperatures; Tough Exterior: protective rind shields fruit from damage; Tropical Growth: thrives in Torchline’s warm, coastal climate
ACTIONS
Eating the fruit delivers a burst of sweet, tropical flavour with a faint warmth; the heat-resistant qualities make it refreshing even when eaten under direct sun, and overindulgence may cause mild stomach upset due to its richness.
Blinking is an inconvenience when there's so many things to see. Fern's eyes haven't stopped being wide as the full moon, one she keeps searching for amid the stretch of black. It's eerily dark, too dark without the stars and the moon. While the fires, much like the one she's beside, cast enough heat and light, the glow does not reach the pitch above, which feels like a sky she cannot recognize.
That unsettling aspect is something she only remembers on occasion, otherwise wholly swept away by the revelry. It calls her back now, a delighted gasp rising up as her feet sink into the surf and bright blue immediately dazzles forth. "Look!" she declares with a point of her hand, where she crouches down to draw a little face, blue springing to light at the contact and then slowly dimming. "It's bioscience!" she asserts, meaning bioluminescence, but not hearing the error.
Certainly the twins alongside her have seen it just as equally, but the awe of it being at hand makes her point out the obvious. Grinning widely, she glances up from her glowy designs to peer at each of them. "Do you think if you eat this it'll make your insides glow?"
Melita had always been capable of wandering her way forward from the brink of something threatening to stifle, but this one wanted to pull her back. She had half-formed an idea of shaking it off her ankle, like a tether or a bind, and carrying on, finding the fun and mischief amongst the lights and sounds. She’d already brought one celebration down, wasn’t certain on how to press the news onward without inciting some mild panic, or complete disinterest, and she’d already confused Iskra. That hadn’t been what this was all for.
Despite the temptation to pout, she forged a smile against the finery of bioluminescence and bonfires. In truth, it was difficult to ignore the tide rushing in and the hues igniting across the wake and the promise of people doing stupid things. The mere thought of someone striving to ride a dolphin, then scale their way through gigantic hoops, was so ridiculously insane that she hoped there’d be a massive line.
Plus, the company. Sequestering themselves near the bonfire, she curled right into Iskra 's side with her drink perched in her hand (a Sex on the Beach, fuck you Kaisel), purposefully snickering at his inquiry. “Yes,” she winked. Allowing just enough of a pause to irritate, she hummed a little under her breath, gilded gaze flicking from him and back to the shoreline, waiting for one of the first people to strive and try. “Though to be fair, probably more of the latter.” Then if they could stay on, they’d go from there.
Sighing a little and wrinkling her nose, she took a sip before dropping her voice to a whisper. “Sorry about dumping everything on you at the celebration. I didn’t have anyone to talk to about all that shit.”
no thank you is how it should have gone, I should stay strong
"Oooooh, bioscience," Carlo echoes as he watches Fern create an eerie little face in the surf that slowly melts back into the inky waves. He doesn't know she's incorrect and there's no one immediately available to put them to rights (though there are plenty of grown-ups nearby, his fathers included plus one projection probably) so this is what it will be for the foreseeable future.
They'd been told a number of rules explicitly - and sternly, in a way that suggests they should actually consider listening this time - including not touching any of the bonfires, not going into the water past their ankles, not wandering off into the dark and not drinking anything they aren't given by a parent. Those rules, however, did not include don't eat glowing algae.
"I don't know," he admits, flashing Calan the sort of grin that directly translates to finding out one way or another. "I bet if I put some in my mouth and chew, you should be able to see if it glows, right?"
but I'm weak, and what's wrong with that? boy oh boy I love it when I fall for that
Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3
"See," Danta is saying to Astaroth in a low voice as he admires the glow of bonfires and bioluminescence from the comparative safety of The Last Word, "the hoops of fire I'm all for. The encantado riding I could get behind, too. But at Longnight, if you or I fell from one of those dolphins, we'd be stone before we even hit the bottom of the Arclight. And I don't know how I feel about being an ornament for the merfolk to admire."
That's a lie, actually - Danta is a fan of being admired in all ways, shapes, and forms - but the ornamental aspect might prove to be a problem. Regardless of his own participation, though, he's more than happy to see how things pan out from behind the glass wall he'd helped to install, a cocktail in hand and with layers of clothing and his fiance to keep him warm. Suffice to say the Maverick is already quite merry thanks to the variety of beverages available at Flora's new bar too, and he plans to stay that way.
"I reckon Kaisel probably has a good chance, though," he adds. A good chance of making the hoop jump, or a chance at burning himself?
Two things can be true at the same time.
Dantalion
it might be your wound but they're my sutures
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
The ring's little pulses on her finger make finding Kaisel almost insultingly easy, each familiar flare of feeling tugging Flora through the warm pockets of firelight like a particularly handsome homing beacon. She doesn’t have to search the beach for long before she spots him near the water, all bare feet and brightly coloured board shorts, the bonfires painting gold along the sand around him. Her hair is loose tonight, blonde curls spilling over her shoulders and down her back in soft, salt-touched waves. The black one-piece she’s chosen is more statement than swimsuit, its neckline plunging all the way to her bellybutton beneath the loose knot of a sarong sitting low around her hips. It isn’t practical, exactly, but then neither is most of Torchline’s approach to LongNight, and she has no intention of being the exception.
Sliding in at his side, Flora links her arm through Kaisel’s before he can turn properly toward her and rises onto her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. "Heya handsome," she murmurs, the words warm against his skin before she eases back again, already lifting the little camera Remi had made for them between her fingers. "I dunno if it’s too dark for this, but I’ll try." Tilting it toward the flaming hoops beyond the glowing water, Flora squints at the little device as though sheer confidence might bully it into working. Then she shrugs one shoulder flirtatiously against his arm, her smile sharpening as her gaze flicks up to him. "And if it is, I’ll be able to replay your run for you after anyway."
Only then does she glance out toward the water, where fire and blue light ripple together along the tide. "Have you signed up yet?"
Flora is standing with Kai on the beach near the encantado fire jumping
I want to be when you fall on me like night I wanna kill the lights
'cause dirt on you is dirt on me, and we both know our hands ain't clean
For a moment, Calan could only stare at the little blue face Fern had drawn in the wet sand, watching it wink and soften at the edges as the tide worked at undoing it. Bioscience, apparently. He didn’t know what it meant either, but the fact that it made the sea glow when you touched it seemed like fairly solid evidence that Fern had got the important part right.
Carlo’s proposal had all the clean, uncomplicated logic of a proper investigation, and Calan’s grin came quick as he looked sideways at his twin. "We can each do it," he decided. Given they were identical, it was the sort of detail that made their results much more official. Before anyone could introduce needless concerns about rules or poison, Calan bent down and snatched up a stringy green bit from the shallows. It shone faintly where the water slid off it, which was encouraging enough to outweigh the fact that it looked like something a fish might have sneezed out. He stuffed it into his mouth and began to chew with all the seriousness of someone making a meaningful sacrifice for science.
The taste hit him almost immediately; his face screwed up so hard it felt like it might stay that way, salt and bitterness coating his tongue while the seaweed resisted every bite with damp, rubbery determination. Still, he kept at it, chewing and chewing until he could finally force the whole miserable mouthful down. Then, straightening with a purposeful little swallow, Calan tipped his chin up toward doctor Fern and opened his mouth wide. "Aaaaaaaaaah," he announced, holding perfectly still for inspection.
Calan is on the beach with Carlo and Fern!
if it all goes wrong and we end up on the news, if you go down I'm goin' down too
Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3
"They're eating the seaweed," Ronin says through a groan of long-suffering amusement, the Knight trying his hardest to bite back his smile but failing entirely, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. He'd sent Sugar to be their chaperone for the adventure into the surf - and yes, ankle deep only boys, because she's a ruthless tattle-tale - but the result is an unintentional backseat into whatever ridiculous plan is underway.
Dropping his hand and smiling helplessly at Remi now, the Knight has no leg to stand on when it comes to real complaints; he'd done this much and worse as a younger man, and the jury would still be out for right now given the option. "I'm gonna go get us some decent drinks from The Last Word. Did you want to do the hoop jumping?" Only one of them can get properly drunk enough to even consider it a good idea, but equally, if they're doing it, perhaps Carlo and Calan won't want to.
// when it feels like all the world is wearing a frown //
Glass in hand, the Butcher swirls the halovian whiskey in the glass, the firelight catching on the amber of the drink as he peers out the windows beside the Maverick to watch the citizens mill about. “Oh ho, it could be a Longheat activity, perhaps?” The Butcher murmurs, lips quirking into a small smirk. He’s not opposed to the idea, but the furthest away from water he can be this season, the better off he is.
Besides, it sounds like a lot of effort he’s not quite willing to do. “I hear the encantados can conjure storms.” He muses, glancing sidelong to his fiancé with a shark tooth smile, flickering in the lights of the Last Word. He pushes up the sleeve of his cream, fair island sweater, with green patterning along the collar and wrists. He’s comfortably warm as well, even with his hair swept back and out of the way to be a little easier to maintain this evening. “Mm, a good chance of burning himself or succeeding. I am not sure which I prefer.” He says, unknowingly reiterating Danta’s own line of thought.
But he hoists his glass to clink it against Danta’s with a raised brow. “Here’s to hoping Flora wins.” He toasts with a little chuckle, taking a long slow sip of the whiskey.
Asta is standing with Danta just inside the Last Word!
I'm a force that you will dread, set me on fire, I'm still alive
The moment Flora 's arm links with his, a smile darts into his cheeks, the edge of it folding into her kiss before he turns to properly find her. "There you are," he beams with the quality of a lantern meeting its matchstrike, lit at once by her presence. Although the connection afforded by the bracelet tipped him off that she was near, much like entering the radius of a quest objective and the mini map of life vibrating and growing colorful, it's not set to easy mode, so there's no glowing trail pointing him directly to her.
As she begins to retreat before he's had his fill, which honestly, he hasn't managed a single time yet, his unclaimed arm reaches around and a few fingers hook against the suggestion of fabric at her naval. The hook resists the pull of her, knuckles brushing against her abdomen as he holds her for a moment longer in his space. Greedy, he leans in for a fuller kiss, touch no different than water to a man parched. Reluctantly, his hand slides out of the crook it keeps on her (limited) outfit, fingertips pinching the very last edge of her sarong in a moment of tested restraint where he considers tugging it away instead of himself. Teeth skim her lower lip as he departs, dragging out the last bit of contact with a hunger for more. Later. There'd be time to appreciate her commitment to the letter V tonight, but for the time being, he has a dolphin to catch.
Granting her the distance to loan his attention from her face to the camera, his smile redoubles its efforts, having briefly fallen away to adore her. "You're amazing for thinking of that." Because yes, he would like this immortalized in the way only the camera can and I feel like we need to make a scrapbook of all their photos now in chat. "I bet I could tie a torch around my waist, grant some extra light." This, spoken like a man entirely too confident about fire and riding sea life for the first time. Yet, confidence does get you far. The health clinic is definitely further than the beach.
"Even if it's not," his voice pursues swiftly after hers, "we're definitely gonna watch the replay. I wanna see it in full glory." Feigning a deeper knock from her shoulder than would be possible, he steps in a controlled stagger to the side, forcing her along with him by way of linked arms. "Careful Mrs. Hot Take!" he says with a put-on concern, quickly spinning around, sand upsetting near his ankles, as he grips her shoulders in both hands to steady her. "You have to watch where you're going in the dark like this," he warns with theatrical dismay. "If only...gosh, if only you didn't have to even worry about that."
Grinning too obviously now, he swings around and crouches a touch, glancing back over his shoulder. "Hop on m'laaady. I'm going to become one with the encantado, by immersing myself." It's a clear invitation for her to piggyback, because walking to the sign up booth is not a worthwhile method of training. This probably isn't either, but who truly knows until they try. "I am the encantado." he summarizes, which would make her the jouster, and the beach their lane to spear across. "Onward to the sign ups!"
Kaisel
Bet you didn't think that I'd come back to life, stronger
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
Even before his fingers catch against the side of her bathing suit, Flora feels it: that romantic, shameless little surge of greed pouring through the bond as clearly as heat from a fire. Her hips twist just enough into him to keep the black fabric pulled taut beneath his fingers, a token bit of resistance that does absolutely nothing to stop her from being drawn closer. Rising onto the balls of her feet, she meets his kiss with a softness that turns quickly traitorous when his teeth skim her lower lip, dark garnet warmth blooming through the bond from her side and spilling up beneath her skin.
Last LongNight, they’d come close enough to trouble by one of the floating docks that she can still remember the water lapping between them and the terrible, delicious sense that neither of them had wanted to be sensible. Now, with firelight flickering across the beach and Kaisel’s fingers lingering on the edge of her sarong, Flora’s thoughts try to careen straight toward pulling him out of sight and into some obliging puddle of darkness where his hands could continue doing exactly that. The hum she gives him as he lets her go is equal parts disappointment and utter satisfaction, her cheeks already flushed as she stays tucked against his side.
"I mean, you could," she says, wrinkling her nose at the torch idea as she holds up the camera again, "but then you’ll knock the hoops and lose points." When he staggers them sideways, Flora lets herself go with it, feet skidding dramatically across the sand until his hands settle her again. She looks up at him with exaggerated relief, as though she’s only just survived a truly harrowing brush with the beach, but the champagne-fizz of affection spilling through the bond makes the act slightly harder to sell.
Then he crouches, and Flora’s grin sharpens at once. Holding the camera snug against herself, she hops nimbly onto his back and links her legs around his waist, a delighted little sound catching in her throat as she settles there. Nudging him forward with her calves and clucking softly like he’s the most cooperative encantado in Torchline, she leans close to his ear and drops her voice as though there might be spies nearby. "Okay," she murmurs, "now let’s talk strategy."
I want to be when you fall on me like night I wanna kill the lights
