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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!
07-05-2024, 09:26 PM (This post was last modified: 07-07-2024, 12:20 PM by Hadama.)
With the advent of Flowerbirth and the melting of snow that had once gripped the northern region year round, Torchline's King was casting further afield than usual for his prey. Unsure whether the Ethereal Frostblooms that he sought would still take root in warming soil, he had teleported across Torchline and the Climb to reach the Fangs for his home's quest for protection. There the snow lingered, though the mountains no longer soared so high as they once had.
And there he crunched through the blanket of white, his senses scanning the valleys and fallen peaks for the sight or scent of one of the frostblooms he hunted.
Or more than one, as the cursed flowers seemed to grow in large groups, as fecund as every other void-touched flora he'd encountered so far.
He used his trident as a walking stick to steady himself as he moved among snow and boulders in his thick blue coat. On his back he carried a terrarium of sorts, the thick glass enclosure made to carry a dangerous plant back to Torchline in one, living piece.
open!
Ethereal Frostbloom (Common): Once a delicate and otherworldly flower that thrived in the icy landscapes of Halo, the Ethereal Frostbloom has fallen victim to the encroaching void. Its petals, which once sparkled like freshly fallen snow, now emit an eerie, pulsating glow. The frosty fragrance has twisted into a chilling scent that seems to pierce through the coldest winds. Encountering the Ethereal Frostbloom sends a shiver down the spine, as it draws energy from the void, freezing the surrounding environment and everything in its vicinity.
OUT OF DARKNESS INTO THE LIGHT
IF YOU WANT ME GONE
It was such a weird fucking thing, that thought:
I feel so far from home.
What HOME? He didn't have one, had never really nestled into the idea that one place in an entire world could be any kind of base. A single space where you put everything you needed for survival was DANGEROUS. Michael had caches in many places through the Hallowed Grounds and Hak Etme. A few in the wilder, colder places of Halo. Had reasons to choose the places that he did, though those reasons were beginning to blend together.
The chokehold of violet and chaos had destroyed more than one cache. Inaccessible due to voidfucks or other such things. A net closing by this WHATEVER bullshit, tighter and tighter. Maybe that was why he was feeling so uprooted and afraid.
He was a sculpin in a tidepool, the sun blazing overhead. The tide so far from him, the panicked promise that it would not reach him in time.
And that VOICE.
That god damn monotone, an invasion into the only thing he had any real control over:
His mind.
Even that was crumbling. Small pieces of it chipped away, little pebbles that could begin a landslide. And each time that voice was there, each time he knew there was no escape…
He lost a few more pebbles.
It's what had driven him to The Fangs. He had a few caches up there, little frozen bundles that would save his life if they were still in the places he'd buried them. Dressed accordingly in thick fur boots, pants, coat, gloves. A warm hat, a wrap of cloth and fur across his face. Snow goggles, their slits saving his eyes from the brilliant flash of moonlight or sunlight against snow and ice. A narrow cave nearby, a place to escape should the weather become too vicious for him to withstand.
And then a strange sight as he walked around the corner of a hill:
A man with a glass… box? … on his back? Trudging through ice and snow, his head swinging back and forth like he was searching for someone. Or something.
Wary, Michael crouched slightly and watched him. Tried to discern if he was friend or foe, careful not to wander too close to the group of Ethereal Frostblooms about three feet from one of his boots.
Tall and broad shouldered, dark skinned and with hair the color of steel, holding a metallic sheen not usually found in most humans, Hadama cast about for the scent that he had caught. It was colder than Deepfrost, that smell, an aroma that promised death to any foolish enough to get too close. Nevertheless he followed it to its source, stalking slowly but with calm purpose through the snow until a small carpet of the chilling blooms came into view around a jumble of rocks.
Flowers... and a man. Hadama paused, considering the snow-goggled man crouching in the lea of the stones, and planted his trident - a creation of starlight, coral, and gold, out of place in Halo's frozen mountains (or what was left of them) - beside him. His expression was neutral, a natural poker face of stoic serenity with neither fear nor aggression in his bearing but only a calm confidence in his strength as he faced the... Halovian? man before him who was so near to the flowers at hand.
"Are you also hunting them for your region?" His voice was a low rumble like distant thunder on the horizon as he gestured to the frostblooms with the butt of his weapon. For all his confidence, however, he did not pause to remove his strange pack just yet.
OUT OF DARKNESS INTO THE LIGHT IF YOU WANT ME GONE
Shiny hair, giant ass trident, unnervingly quiet, some sort of… alien capture device on his back?
Now, Michael was always one to judge - his survival depended on it - but this was one of those times where he wasn't sure WHAT he was looking at. And it was important that he knew, if only for his own sense of
the things I don't know are much scarier than the things I do
Paranoia etched at the corners of his mind, tiny claws scraping. It told him to LEAVE, to turn around and get the hell out, and he was just about to when the man spoke to him about hunting 'them' for his region.
What in the nomadic fuck did that mean?
"Uuh. No?"
Slowly, he glanced downward and slightly to one side. Eyeing the deadly flowers that were - he just now realized - far too close to him. He sidestepped a few strides away from them before his blue gaze flicked back to the stranger. And then to the strange box on his back. Then back to his face, back to the box.
Face, box, face.
Box.
The sun on the snow wasn't too piercing here, and so he slowly removed his goggles. Wanting a better look at this giant and the weird little box on his back.
"Who the hell comes all the way to the Fangs with a giant fork and an empty box?" Snark there between syllables, the rumble of confusion. The slow twist of distrust far less at the moment than his curiosity.
The frostblooms were not, thankfully, prone to much movement and Hadama could afford patience in this unexpected meeting with a stranger. He simply watched quietly as the fur-clad man reacted with confusion and then with a very wise haste in stepping away from the dangerous Void-touched plants. The simple removal of his goggles seemed a friendly gesture and Hadama inclined his head in regal acknowledgment of the query, the swearing sliding off his broad shoulders without impact.
"I am Hadama," he rumbled in courteous introduction. "Of Torchline." King thereof, though he saw no need to announce it if he wasn't recognized. "Vi has given us a quest to protect the Arclight Ocean from Void corruption." He nodded to the Frostblooms once more. "To complete it, I need to collect one of these. Alive." He paused, and there was a gleam of something subtle and fierce in his gemstone-green eyes. "And then I will destroy the rest."
He looked back to the stranger with a slight, questioning tilt of his head. "What do you seek with them?"
OUT OF DARKNESS INTO THE LIGHT IF YOU WANT ME GONE
There could be merit in leaving. Turn around, trudge back the way he had come. Try and locate some other cache far from this place, but even then there was danger in that. Would this man chanse him? How far was his reach? What kind of magic did he have?
Was he waiting for him here?
He didn't know everything, would never pretend to. Had zero issue with the VERY IMPORTANT understanding that he was pretty damn close to the bottom of the food chain.
Did he like it?
Nope.
Did he actually care?
Not REALLY. There wasn't much pride left in the shambles of the nomadic asshole called Michael.
The stranger stated his name. Not something he would offer back in kind. Wasn't one for social niceties or norms. Hadn't been exposed too much to either since he'd begun the upward battle of surviving on his own with no one to trust or call friend.
Torchlight. Vi. Quest. Arclight ocean. Void.
The corners of his eyes crinkled, and he squinted at the mammoth of a man before him. Neurotic at the very of times, always suspicious and never trusting. Had no reason to, no desire to, but the pull of learning more about this purple SHIT all over his world kept him in place. Didn't know how to get rid of it, had some idea of what it wanted - D E A T H? - , was running out of places to hide from it.
So, maybe it was time to stop running.
That squint became more defined, lines deepening across his brow. The words he wanted to say and the words that were more 'kneejerk' were at war, and it was Hadama's question that was the deciding factor:
"Nothing". He shrugged a little as he stared down at the blooms. "But, if you want shitty company I'll tag along as long as you give me some idea about what the hell is going on with the purple crap that's making my life even more miserable than it already is." A tilt of his head, one eye switching from the blooms to the other's face.
Unhurried and willing to give the stranger the time he needed to absorb the Tidebreaker's words, Hadama kept his attention mostly on Michael though his gaze occasionally roamed to the world around them, alert for things that were more dangerous than the flowers beside them. Ursur. Frost giants. Dragons. Halo was more civilized than it had ever been these days, but the Fangs were far from tamed and Evie, Deimos, and Noah alike had warned him of their dangers.
The wait for an answer was done in silence, but the other man's quiet voice broke it with a quiet caution that bespoke someone wary and cautious of his surroundings. Hadama tilted his head again in acceptance of the offer, and he shrugged out of the terrarium that he had hauled along. "It is called the Void," he explained as he wrapped a cloth around his face to keep out the pollen of the Frostblooms and then assembled a collapsible shovel from his pack. "And it came from the stars. A place far from Caido." Safrin's absence in previous years and her disastrous return a year prior had been well-known at the time, so he did not repeat it. "It is consuming our world. One region at a time." His voice hardened as he steeled himself against the dire aura of the flowers and began to dig beneath one that had crept a little farther from its fellows. Muscles bunched beneath his coat as he forced the shovel through the frozen soil, shattering it as much as digging through it in order to get beneath the roots. "Stormbreak is now ruled by a member of its Family. Leaders of the Void." His stoic expression turned grim as he recounted that news. "But the other regions are seeking help from the Old Gods to create barriers. Defenses to keep the corruption out. To protect our people." The flower was freed with a final grunt of effort, a section of frozen soil lifting free with it as Hadama transferred it to the terrarium on the end of the shovel and then closed the thick glass container up again.
Frost crawled up his gloves and sleeves and the shovel was white with it. The blade seemed brittle and on the verge of shattering itself. Hadama set it aside and took a moment to flex his fingers carefully against the nascent frostbite that numbed their tips even after so short a time in proximity to the frostblooms.
OUT OF DARKNESS INTO THE LIGHT IF YOU WANT ME GONE
Michael would offer the world no opportunity to feel comfortable. Not in his own skin, not in the presence of others. Not in a space of ice and snow where few tread. He didn't deserve it, didn't want it. Something beyond his grasp that he wouldn't ever fight for. But he saw it in this man…
Confidence.
A surety that what he was doing here would somehow help make the world a better place. That there was hope, a goal to be set and obtained. It made his gut twist into nauseous coils.
Even still, he wasn't dead yet. And Hadama seemed competent. Always looking, checking their surroundings to ensure they remained alone. Even still, the potential for eyes to be on them unseen was a constant, and he found himself looking, too. In all directions the other wasn't. He didn't have exceptional senses, only those granted to an Accepted at birth. Maybe a little less attuned now, less efficient through trials of aging, diet, and battle.
He took a small step away as the box was set on the ground, a side-eye cast to ensure it kept its distance. As though the nomad believed it to be alive enough to walk. In this world, considering everything that had happened thus far, it wasn't an impossibility.
Another step away, distance extended. Still, he didn't leave, felt compelled to stay to learn more. Wondered at the point of trying to stop such a thing until he remembered that it was in his god damn head.
"How is a frostbloom going to stop it? Isn't it just as fucked as the rest of us?" No shame in his ignorance as he shifted his hands, let them rest on his hips. "What does the Void want? What is it doing here?"
No attempts to assist as the bloom was harvested and placed into the terrarium. He understood enough about anything purple that it was best to avoid such things. Same, too, his opinion about the gods. He held no love for them, saw no purpose to their existence. Especially now when they were needed the most and were absent.
The harvest was completed and it was with relief that Hadama stepped away from the terrarium for the moment. Soon enough he would have to carry the corrupted flower it contained... but not for long, he hoped.
And not before removing the rest of this particular pocket of void corruption from Halo's border.
"A void-touched life from Caido's main regions," he rumbled, his words slow and chosen carefully before they were spoken. "Was one of the tasks the gods set in order for them to create the barriers. A variety, I think. So that the barrier will recognize what to keep out." Not just pollen, or lizards, or birds alone. But to keep out all of those things which had been corrupted.
Except, perhaps, the Family. Dahlia's appearance in the Atheneum had been even more unsettling at that realization.
The other questions, however, could only be answered with a shake of Hadama's head. "I do not know," he admitted. "I can only guess. That it seeks to spread. To make more of itself. At the expense of all other living things." An invasive species, in every meaning of the term. "Shield your eyes," he added, a quiet aside as he also stepped back and focused on the flowers.
And then summoned his power. Not celestial or glittering with starlight as Ronin's once had, but instead a shimmering twist of the light above the flowers as space warped briefly into three spheres of condensed gravity a moment before they became lances striking downwards, slamming into the field of frostblooms and crushing them flat into snow that compacted so swiftly it melted into water, flowing away from the area and then instantly refreezing as solid ice at the edges of the temporary gravity well in a glittering splash of the Fangs in miniature around the now-bare rock where the Void had been wiped away.
Magic: Gravity Spike: the user borrows a sliver of the moon's power to summon up to three gravity lances that appear above a target within 60ft. Control is excellent.
Type: Light | Rank: Mastered
OUT OF DARKNESS INTO THE LIGHT IF YOU WANT ME GONE
And the gods couldn't do that themselves because…
Michael kept his tongue, though as time pressed on that became more challenging. Gears in his mind shifting, ever turning. Cracks and rust splitting away, falling into metaphorical powder that got him no closer to understanding what in the god damn hell was going on than before. But, at least he had a sliver of something. A tiny handful of information that he could maybe build upon OR do nothing with.
That all depended on how badly he wanted this to end. And, considering how long he had stayed here, his efforts to communicate without the snarl of salt and the sneer of snark, that dim hope that everything might be okay in the end didn't seem so lost after all.
maybe
Quiet again as he digested Hadama's words. Let them settle, didn't immediately strike at them as though they were some threat. Worry lines in his brow a testament to sleepless nights and hopeless days.
"You put a lot of faith in gods that aren't even here." A tight smile, no humor in it at all. More tolerant… as though he felt sorry for the other.
More questions, they were there at the forefront of his mind. But, they would wait. He stepped back once more, closed his eyes. Shielded them with an arm without knowing why. Trusting in this man's warning. And glad he'd done so, the flare of light making him flinch.
When it faded, he slowly parted his eyes, watched the trickle of what had once been ethereal frostbloom shimmer and harden into ice one more. Deeper thoughts, the unknown picking at him, paranoia always right there, whispering, croaking in his ear.
Time to go.
Discomfort raw, prickles of unease more constant, the want to LEAVE a powerful motivator, stronger now after what he had learned.
Now what would he do with it?
Always to the familiar, Michael would go. He watched Hadama and the box that housed the bloom a moment more, then tipped his snow goggles back on and started to walk again. Carried on, decided to continue on his path as long as the man wasn't also going the same way.
"Good luck with your flower and shit, try not to die." Didn't look back as he spoke, sort of waved an arm at him in some sort of parting gesture. And then picked up the pace.
He had to get to the cache before someone else - or someTHING else - found him.
"Are they not?" Michael's statement about the gods might have been rhetorical - or it might not have been - but there was a gleam of amusement in those unnaturally emerald eyes. Perhaps they gods were not individually present, but their champions - their swords and shields, if one felt pious, or their pawns and tools otherwise - walked Caido.
And battled the Void as best they could.
He summoned Safrin's power and destroyed the void-touched flowers, and when the snow settled he was unsurprised that the stranger was ready to head on his way. He had not learned the man's name, but it did not seem to bother the phlegmatic Tidebreaker, who only inclined his head an acknowledgment of the farewell. "Safe travels," he rumbled in return. Then he returned to clean up his shovel and collect the icy terrarium, hooking a starlit tine of his trident through a hook on its top and lifting it at the end of his weapon.
He began walking into the growing night, heading south. The moment the first beam of moonlight crested the lip of the fallen mountains and struck him he vanished, beginning the series of teleportation hops that would take him home.
