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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!
The furnace was coming along nicely. Stone by stone the crude structure circled up from the riverbank, mortared in place by plaster mixed from clay and river water. It was small, barely large enough to contain the crucible with its mix of sand and glasswort, but if she had calculated correctly it ought to be enough to raise the temperature high enough for her purposes.
It had taken her the better part of last days afternoon and a good chunk of the morning to find the stones, stack them and gather all the materials needed, but now as Maea stepped back to stretch out her spine, she should be all set to begin. But first, a quick rinse was in order. From fingertip to elbow her arms were splattered in mud and sand and dirt. It dissolved like a gray cloud upon dunking her limbs in the water, and she hummed contentedly while scrubbing it off.
Once she could see the color of her own skin again, she went back to work. Piling wood into the kiln and adding the crucible, she lit the fuel on fire and began to slowly raise the temperature. The aim was to melt the sand and the reagents without breaking the vessel, so that once the material had cooled she would be left with glass. According to the book laid open on her coat a safe distance from the flames this would produce an early form of glass, cloudy and more akin to pottery glaze than the clear substance that first came to mind. It wasn't technically necessary – glass could be made easily enough either as raw material sold by merchants or in panes, rods and beads to reshape to her liking – but Maea wanted to get a feel for the foundational process. The painstaking labor, the skill and knowledge that had gone into forming this craft. And with nothing immediately important to bend her attention to, she did as many had suggested and tried out a new hobby.
Today it was glassmaking. Under the brilliant Flowerbirth sun a roar of fire startled birds into confused silence. Paying little heed to wildlife or the glittering water, Maea's focus was entirely on the color and temperature of the fire, and the minute adjustments she had to make by way of magic to keep it consistent.
It creeps in like a thief in the night Without a sign, without a warning
Noah moved carefully along the river’s jagged edge, the water’s rushing melody threading through the air. The river churned between its peculiar stone formations, twisting around and curling and rolling. The wind caught in the hollow spaces, sending forth a chorus of Flowerbirth’s nature. The Greatwood never ceased to amaze.
Noah’s boots left imprints in the loamy soil as he moved, eyes scanning and searching. Vi’s roses were supposed to bloom here, and he kept looking despite having no luck anywhere else. Noah scanned the slick banks, glacier yees bouncing around the places where rock met water in a tangled embrace to the tree line that tapered here and there. Life flourished in every crevice— but no roses.
But we are ready and prepared to fight Raise up your swords, don't be afraid
Time passed. The sun crept across the sky a finger's breadth at a time. As the sound and color of the roaring fire changed, telling her that the melting point had been achieved, Maea eased off her magic and let the remaining fuel burn out on its own. Now the furnace would be allowed to cool down again, so that the molten sand could solidify. If everything had gone according to plan the would have a fragment of glass to refine further; if it had not, she would troubleshoot and try again.
Stretching out her aching back, she left the blistering heat near the kiln to slump down upon a log. Picking up a waterskin she sipped cool mouthfuls while basking in the sun. A sound of shifting gravel drew her gaze up and down the river to catch the source. Spotting a looming figure, Maea shaded her eyes with a hand, squinting against the light to see who it was.
It creeps in like a thief in the night Without a sign, without a warning
The sound of the fire was drowned out by the rushing of the water, but as the demigod’s eyes lifted he could see flames licking out in spurts from the makeshift forge. Noah’s eyes narrowed some as he focused ahead, his eyes still scanning until they fell on a familiar figure. Her horns were unmistakable as they lifted from her skull and the wrapping of silver hair.
He lifted his hand in a wave as he approached, feeling some tension leave his shoulders as he closed the distance between them. When he noticed her lifted hand he called out a simple hello, so that she could hear his voice even if his features were still darkened from his backlit approach.
He jutted his chin towards the firing kiln-forge when he was close enough, asking ”What’s that?”
But we are ready and prepared to fight Raise up your swords, don't be afraid
The greeting was swallowed by rushing water. Waiting patiently for the figure to get close enough, Maea grinned with dawning recognition as she finally made out Noah's rugged features. It had been a good while since she last saw him, and she would have to be forgiven for almost forgetting his particular brand of looming.
"Good to see you too," she drawled, amused by the minimal greeting. "It's my new hobby. Ever tried making glass before? You came right in time for the good part." Patting the log beside her in an offer to keep her company, Maea stretched her legs out in front of her, comfortable as one lounging in a livingroom. And why not; it was warm in the sun, she was tired in the achy, hard labor kind of way and now here was good company to wile away a few moments with.
It creeps in like a thief in the night Without a sign, without a warning
Perhaps living in such a small place — ocmpared to the rest of the world — where everyone knew everyone and there was a familiar, warm face on every corner, made Noah’s social skills to acquaintances just less. Able to catch on exactly to what Maea meant, however, Noah let out a soft chuckle. Color flared in his cheeks and deepened the warmth of his ears. ”Sorry,” he started, hand lifting to clasp the back of his neck, ”How are you, Maea?”
She didn’t seem too put off, however, and was willing to explain what she was doing and show him. ”No, I haven’t. I saw a few glassblowing shops in Stormbreak, though, when I lived there.” Right after he had become a demigod, when Vi sent him to the Order to help rally and prepare for the war.
But we are ready and prepared to fight Raise up your swords, don't be afraid
Waving off the apology with a smile, she wasn't one to sweat the details either. It was just fun to tease. "I'm well, actually, " and was a bit surprised that it was entirely true, not merely a front. "I've moved in here, recently, and it's been doing wonders. How are you, Noah? It's been a while, hasn't it?" A year at least, maybe even more - and looking closer at his haggard appearance it seemed like he had seen better days.
Nodding as he explained, she pointed to the kiln. "I'm melting sand right now," she explained. "Once it has cooled enough to solidify into glass, I will open the kiln and see how it went. I wanted to see how much yield I get from how much sand..." And figure out how many tools she needed, if magic alone would be enough, if different sand made different glass – so many questions, and so much time to pass.
It creeps in like a thief in the night Without a sign, without a warning
"It's been a while." He breathed. "I'm doing...ok. The last year has been hard. I lost my wife." He said, his face faltering immediately with the grief that clung to him, so easily brought to the surface. "It will be something I will never heal from." He said, sucking his cheeks slightly and biting on the left side. He sighed, pushing the breath past his lips to keep himself from drawing blood within his mouth.
"I am glad to hear you are doing well." He said in all sincerity, despite the grief hanging off of him like a cloak. When they first met in the Grounds, things had been different for her. He had no idea of the turmoil she had experienced since that first meeting, or after she helped them with their regional quest, but to hear she was doing well was good. He moved to take a seat near her as she explained what was happening within the forge, eager to listen to what she had to say, if only it meant to push out his sadness for a moment in time.
But we are ready and prepared to fight Raise up your swords, don't be afraid
The grief in his voice hit her before the full impact of his words did, paving the way to understanding just what it was he had lost, what would never return, what kind of pit it was that had been opened in this kind man's soul. The first time they met, Noah had invited her into his home, into a kitchen that breathed of a domestic bliss few were ever blessed to experience. It appeared that bliss had been cut mercilessly short, and for a while Maea was lost for words as the usual platitudes in face of loss seemed wholly inadequate. But what else was there to say, or do? "I'm so sorry to hear that," she murmured eventually, painfully aware that it didn't mean much. "How are the children taking it?"
As the Forsaken sat down beside her, Maea reached a hand across to gently pat his hand. As awkward gestures went it held compassion enough; understanding, and the kind of quiet reassurance that if he wished to, she could talk him through the entire process of making glass, if it helped him rest his weary heart for an hour or three.
It creeps in like a thief in the night Without a sign, without a warning
She took his hand without hesitation—like it was the simplest thing in the world—and that was what did it. Not the condolences. Not the careful silence. Just that warm, steady hand in his, grounding him in a moment he had no right to survive.
Noah had held his wife’s hand through a hundred storms, through exile, through childbirth, through nights too cold to sleep. And now—just absence. The ring of her laugh, the glint in her eye, all of it pulled away by a tide that never gave anything back. She was Vi’s gift to Mort, but Noah still couldn’t reconcile that.
Glacier eyes lifted to Maea’s momentarily, before coming back to look ahead at the makeshift forge. His throat locked. He tried to blink the burn away, but it was too late. The grief came on like spring runoff—violent, rushing, hot. It broke open in his chest, thick and choking.
Maea didn’t let go. That mattered more than it should have. “They—” he started, then stopped, clearing his throat as if he could choke out the grief in his voice. He blinked back white hot tears. ”They are managing.” He forced.
Then he took in a sharp, shaky breath. ”Can you tell me more about this?” He jutted his chin towards the forge.
But we are ready and prepared to fight Raise up your swords, don't be afraid
Maea squeezed the large man's hand and nodded quietly. She had lost her parents too, lost all family until the only ones who still shared her blood were so distantly related that they didn't count anymore. It was a grief one did not recover from, but one you must learn to carry. His children would grow into it, see the world with different eyes because of it - and depending on what they saw, they might survive. Noah might, too, though what his life would be like from now on depended on other things. Choices, beliefs - luck, and perhaps also the will of the gods.
"You know how glass is made out of sand? Well, different minerals and plants can give differing properties to the glass, and as the sand is heated allow for the ability to decide what those properties will be. Today I am trying to make a simple version that is less clear than what you might be used to seeing, as the material I gathered isn't as pure or processed as a master glazier would have access to." Talking him through the process of building the kiln and explaining how she hoped to find material enough to craft something with once it was opened, Maea's voice carried on in a soothing drone. Sparing the Foresaken the need to linger on his grief and the need to think about much of anything.
When she'd told him all she knew about the process, Maea gently patted his hand and rose to her feet. Reaching for a leftover piece of wood, she offered it to Noah. "Let's crack it open, and see what we've got. Careful not to burn yourself - it's still hot." Picking up the shovel used to dig out the clay, she approached the sweltering heat without fear, and began the precarious process of opening the kiln without destroying the vessel with its precious content.
It creeps in like a thief in the night Without a sign, without a warning
Noah had known loss before. His parents, taken too young. Weaver, whose absence still echoed in his ribs. Korbin, whose death cracked something deeper. Even Halo itself—its fall, its unraveling—had hollowed him out. But Cordelia’s death was different. It wasn’t just grief—it was absence in every breath. And absence that clung to his bones and wrung his spine, an empty void beneath his ribs. She’d been his anchor, his shelter, the quiet warmth in the long winters. Without her, the world felt colder, harder, louder.
The others left wounds. She left a silence. A life unraveled. He could survive without the rest—he had. But without her, it felt less like living, and more like enduring.
Noah’s breathing steadied as Maea talked, sharing with him the properties and intricacies of what was happening within the forge. After her, Noah stood slowly, the piece of wood warm in his grip. The kiln’s heat pressed against his face, drawing sweat to his brow. He followed the ancient’s lead. As the kiln opened, he crouched beside her, ready to brace the vessel if needed. He wasn’t worried about burning himself. While he wasn’t impenetrable like she was against fire and brimstone, he could heal his own wounds.
But we are ready and prepared to fight Raise up your swords, don't be afraid
06-19-2025, 05:48 AM (This post was last modified: 06-19-2025, 07:05 AM by Maea.)
You woke a fire inside of me
The kiln broke open in a cloud of red dust and swirling ashes. After a bit of rummaging they found the crucible, and carried it over to the riverside. Maea was visibly excited as she dug into the content with her bare hands, and a wide smile split her face as she pulled out a small lump of raw glass. Dusty and opaque, it was grayish white in color, looking every bit like the slag left behind by blacksmiths during their work. Barely enough to even craft with, she was nevertheless thrilled to find her experiment successful.
"It really worked! Look, I made glass ‐ " and she held up the piece so Noah could see it properly. "I wanted a new hobby and now I'm doing it. Feels like progress, don't you think?" Going from inspiration to research into action without getting stuck or giving up - yes indeed, it was something to celebrate.
"Would you like to join me for dinner later? This calls for a feast!" All that was left to do here was clean up, then head back to the village. Maea wouldn't mind company - and maybe Noah could tell her about Halo.
As he agreed, she carried on with the conversation, unbothered by his taciturn silence; she understood, after all, how difficult it was to get back up when so little remained to be strong for. At least he had his children - and a friend to lean on, for however long he needed it.
