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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!
yes, yes, I am wild I am the wind that makes breathing hard
While Melita was busy snagging dream cactus spines, she figured she’d take the opportunity to explore portions of the desert she hadn’t meandered through yet. But where the Sea of Dreams had been something out of nostalgia, the Furnace wasn’t; just a molten horizon, decrepit dirt, and endless stretches of sand. “Meh,” she grumbled to mostly herself and her companions. And though Sila didn’t seem to mind, with those leathery portions, the Honeybee and Fangorn were a bit out of place.
Pinning her hair up as best she could, off her neck and out of her face, her eyes traced the area. Kicking at a patch of sand nearby revealed another skeleton, something like a small lizard. “Well, maybe I can target practice out here, hm?” The vampire gourd wasn’t much inclined to agree, but soon enough they were advancing upon a much larger skeleton of vague-ly land shark like, and Melita started going through her familiar paces with her staff.
I am the ocean and the battered shore I will be the passion of thunder, a howl of fury
the truth is what remains the truth is what you save from the fire
Noah did not find himself in these parts of the world often, but when he was here he took the time to explore.
Having finished, and healed from, the encounter in the Greatwood, yet not yet having experienced the worst thing yet in his life, Noah moved smoothly and with a great amount of calm through the desert.
Upon his explorations, Noah found a rather large skeleton. Parts of it stuck up out of the ground, parts of it were still sunken in the sand, but all of it was bleached white by the relentless sun and smooth from any scavengers having picked it clean.
As he walked around the skeleton, he wanted to kick himself. There, working on moves with her staff, was a familiar face. The Forsaken, though, should have been more alert to more lives near him in this place of — what felt like — death. Stopping after fully rounding the skeleton, but not approaching the Honeybee too close, Noah called out his greeting and (probably awkwardly) lifted his hand to wave, ”Hey.”
you fight for what you love, don't matter if it hurts you find out what it's worth and you let the rest burn
yes, yes, I am wild I am the wind that makes breathing hard
Melita didn’t expect anyone else to be out here either – desolation seemed to be the sticking point in this wide mass of sand, dirt, wind, and not much else – but Sila, with keen eyes along the plains, saw Noah coming. So as the Forsaken approached from beyond the skeleton, the Honeybee didn’t look at all surprised, more curious than anything. Fangorn gave his own grumble and twist of his vines, looking like a disheveled swish of a greeting.
Stopping her warm-ups for half a moment to address the other demigod, she waved and jutted her jawline in return. “Hey.” There might’ve been more to be said – she couldn’t recall seeing him since planting seeds or the botched ‘aim magic at an orb’ thing. She kept it all within, however (how very mature of her), shrugging and rolling her shoulders. Then she returned to swinging the staff back and forth, practiced and rhythmical, wrist and arms loosening up as she rotated the armament in circles, muscles content, eager, and ready. “What brings you out here?”
I am the ocean and the battered shore I will be the passion of thunder, a howl of fury
