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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!
Jack will never say it, but there's something quite freeing about knowing you've only got a limited time with which to do and go wherever the hell you please, before prudence dictates staying in one place for the indefinite future. And with The Ark more agile than she's ever been, the captain is taking full advantage of the flying aspect of his ship, and so whim and a good, northbound gale has taken him back up towards the Greatwood.
The forest doesn't hold the best memories for him, its true, between the murder and all the void shit, but it's still new enough that it bears checking out further, especially when it comes to business opportunities. He's sure that the fae can't all be antiquated, mischievous little souls - there's got to be some real corruption in there somewhere, and if it exists, Jack will find it and shake hands with it.
What that looks like right now, though, is the captain seated in the shade of a two storey tavern overlooking the gentle ebb and flow of the river flowing beside it, a drink before him and a bit of parchment in his hands. Upon said parchment he's written a PoEm, if one can call it that - a single line to a static little shit that equates to:
Vox. I don't know if you know how, but I would highly recommend you go fuck yourself.
Folding the paper in crisp lines and angles, before long, Jack has crafted himself a little paper aeroplane to bear his missive. Giving it a jaunty tail twist and a flick with one finger, he lets it fly lazily away across the river where it lands gently in the current, ready to be swept out to sea.
it's not your fault that you're always wrong the weak ones are there to justify the strong
There was a flicker of light—no brighter than a trick of the eye, like sun glinting off a bottle’s neck—and then the briefest crackle of static wormed its way through the air. The river shuddered, just slightly, as if tickled by an errant current that hadn't been there a moment ago.
And then—
"Oh, Jack," Vox’s voice purred from nowhere and everywhere at once, smooth and syrupy with delight. "You poet, you prophet, you... deeply constipated soul."
There was the sound of paper folding itself, of corners creasing without hands. Somewhere, a seagull sneezed.
"I do know how, actually. And thank you for the recommendation! I always appreciate constructive feedback."
The breeze shifted just enough to ruffle the edges of Jack’s coat, a gentle, teasing pat.
"Your missive has been received, and I must say—such elegance in the delivery. A little boat for your little sentiment." A pause. Then, cheerfully: "Consider me charmed. Keep in touch!"
And just like that, the hum vanished, leaving only the gentle burble of the river—and, floating in Jack’s drink, a tiny origami shark made from the very paper he’d sent away. Its mouth opened and closed slowly.
And I hope that you don't suffer But take the pain
It had taken some careful asking around to confirm certain events after her conversation with Flora. The broadcast of the death of Flora and a 'friend' was well known, and with a name to help jog people's memories she was able to glean a few things. This Jack person was the captain of a ship. The ship's name was the Ark. And as it so happened, the Ark had been seen docked at the skyport this very same day. Was it coincidence? Lady Luck offering Maea a nod along on her quest? Either way it was extremely convenient, and she wasted no time in setting out to look for this resurrected enigma of a man.
Eventually she was finally pointed to the Bodega, where her search would be left to luck and chance and... a paper plane? It swished past her face and glided out over the water, landing with the grace of a seabird upon the surface. Turning to follow its path back to the source, she felt a thrill of recognition upon seeing a man seated in the shade. Approaching before her nerves could convince her not to, Maea shuddered to a stop as the air suddenly crackled; a too familiar sound of a too familiar voice grated against the ears and she nearly turned on her heels.
Then Vox vanished, leaving her free to shudder in vehement revulsion. "You keep strange company," she murmured, eying the captain with some concern. "Hi, by the way.. Jack, right? Not sure if you remember, but we've met briefly. Do you, uh... have a moment?" Not exactly how she had intended for this to go, but she could roll awkwardly with it.
Jack's senses are ordinarily sharp for those around him, especially those on the approach, but as the ominously static hum fills the air, making his skin feel greasy and setting his teeth on edge, Maea might as well be in another region entirely. Ice cracks out across the table beneath the captain's hands, freezing his drink and the unwelcome little origami shark bobbing around in it. He's glancing sharply around for Vox even long after silence - true silence - falls again, until his blue eyes finally land on the Ancient at his table.
"Ain't company I invited," he half growls, abandoning his frozen drink and allowing a passing server to crack it off the table and take it away. "An' I remember, yeah. Hopped off your boat at the Castaway." He gestures for the seat opposite, clearly still too on edge and distracted for too much wit - or to tell her to keep walking, evidently. "Use it well." The moment, he means.
it's not your fault that you're always wrong the weak ones are there to justify the strong
And I hope that you don't suffer But take the pain
"That's a relief," she replied, more honest than polite despite the warming smile that took the edge off her words. "Ah, thank you." Closing the distance on quiet feet, Maea pulled out a chair for herself and sat down. The interruption had shaken her enough that she needed a moment to gather her thoughts.
"I wanted to ask a favor," she began, foregoing any roundabout explanations for the simple truth - Jack didn't really look to be in the mood for chitchat. "I've been granted a quest from Mort, to revive a companion lost to me many years ago. I've been told to inquire about the experience of being resurrected by those who have been though it... and I've been told you might be able to help. So... would you be willing to answer some questions? If I can do anything at all in return, I'd be happy to trade..." Despite her best attempts at keeping her emotions out of this, the very nature of the request made it impossible. Hope and caution mingled into a jitter of nerves barely held back by the anxious rubbing of a palm, and the erratic twitching of a white-skinned tail beneath the table.
"People normally do, if they're stoppin' at my table," Jack mutters, mostly to himself, his eyes on the server as they track back with a fresh drink for him, one he accepts and smoothly knocks back in one. Setting the empty on their tray before they walk off again, at least the familiar gesture seems to steady him enough to pay real attention to Maea as she continues. Rolling his shoulders and sweeping the frost from the table, he leans a forearm against it.
Raising an eyebrow and considering her for a long moment, one that undoubtedly feels awkward for at least one of them, the captain samples the spikes of hope and anxiety pricking out of her, and eventually shrugs his shoulders. "Ain't much to say. I was dead an' then I wasn't again. Ask if you have to, though. You got five minutes." Whether he gives her any genuine answers is another matter entirely.
it's not your fault that you're always wrong the weak ones are there to justify the strong
And I hope that you don't suffer But take the pain
Five minutes was plenty and not nearly enough, but Maea was grateful just to be allowed the seat at the table. She nodded assent to the time limit without question, leaning back in the chair to properly look at the captain. His muttering didn't pass unnoticed, though she couldn't tell if it was a complaint or merely stated fact.
"I've heard about how you were killed. Not in detail, but the gist," she began without preamble. "How did you come back to life?" From personal experience Maea really doubted there was 'nothing to it', but she made a point of setting aside her own thoughts about it. It was his experience that mattered here, and for the coming five minutes Jack would have her undivided attention.
It's a merely stated fact, not that Jack cares to clarify, the captain tapping an idle finger against the table as he waits for her questions. His brow furrows to hear that she's already well aware of how he'd died, despite the lack of detail, and he sits back at last to consider his response. "Revivify feather," he says curtly. "One of those mythical finds that some people seem to have tucked away. One was used on me, and here I am, alive and kickin' again."
There's not really much to add in that regard, but there is something worth noting. "No one ever mentions it specifically, but that shit doesn't bring you back good as new. I was a breath from death comin' back to life. Had to get my shit together as quickly as I could."
it's not your fault that you're always wrong the weak ones are there to justify the strong
And I hope that you don't suffer But take the pain
Ah, she knew what that was like. A hazy memory of Ronin's voice came to mind, and of Remi's soft joke that cut through pain and confusion until it just... bled away. Melting before a wave of sweet healing. It had been brief, but Maea recalled the points of agony where arrows had been. Memory was all the proof she had that they'd ever been there now; the demigods had done a good job of patching her up. Not even the scars remained.
"It's not the kind of thing you're eager to dwell on, I'm sure," she responded, a touch guilty for making him relive it at all. "Do you feel different, before and after? Did death... change your perspective, or priorities?" Flora said she was going on bitterness and spite these days. Was Jack different? Rubbing her thumb against the palm of her hand, Maea didn't want to think too deeply on what her own reasons were; they had been similar, but that was different now. Had to be, because she was going to make better choices this time. Shii was part of that - a way to mend something that should never have broken, to retrieve what should never have been lost or left behind.
Jack's face remains neutral, but he does wonder what Maea is doing asking him about his experiences of death when, from her thoughts alone, it appears that she's very, very well acquainted with it herself. "No, it's not," he agrees, brushing his thumb across the woodgrain of the table and tilting his head expectantly for her next array of questions. And when they come, it's an easy answer, at least.
"Ain't sure there's a person out there who wouldn't feel different after," he says. "Not sure whether anyone else's priorities have shifted in the way mine have, but then I was murdered. That leaves some unfinished business, in my book." Which is a roundabout way of saying that yes, Jack is different, and his focus has swung very much towards getting revenge on the person who prematurely ended his life.
it's not your fault that you're always wrong the weak ones are there to justify the strong
And I hope that you don't suffer But take the pain
"Mh, well I truly appreciate you doing this in spite of that," she replied. It truly meant the world to her, and if she wasn't pressed for time Maea would have chosen her words with more care to soften the blows as much as possible.
Tracing the puckered scars across the back of a hand, she listened with intent to Jack's next answer. Murder was harder to relate to – apparently a pair of magical arrows in her back didn't actually count if the final blow was her own mistake – but she had been faced with one attempt, and it at least gave her an idea of what the captain was talking about.
"Indeed, no doubt about that. I hope you get the chance to even the score some day. I have two final questions, then I'll leave you be. Do you regret coming back, considering all that you now carry of forced changes and altered perspectives? Is it worth it, to be alive again?" Clear eyes gazed calmly at the man over the table, unassuming. To some the answers might seem obvious, but those who had seen Death would likely have a different perspective on the matter.
"As do I," Jack says emphatically, though there's very little warmth in the smile he flashes across the table to Maea; not because of anything she's said, necessarily, but because thoughts of revenge need to be icy, in his opinion. Nodding to hear that she has a further two questions for him, the captain waits expectantly for them to paint the air between them, flicking his gaze over the Ancient's shoulder so he might catch the eye of a server for another drink.
"I don't regret it for a second," he tells her easily. "I didn't go gently into death - I was pushed and cut and stabbed there before I was ready." Chances are he will never be ready, but especially not at the point when Pierce had been skewering him over and over again. "So, yeah. It's worth it to be alive again. I'm sure Mort's halls are real peaceful for those who want to be there, but not for me. Got too much to do to sit around dead."
it's not your fault that you're always wrong the weak ones are there to justify the strong
And I hope that you don't suffer But take the pain
The certainty in his response was something to be envied, in her opinion. Maea wouldn't have faulted Jack for harboring doubt or even the kind of pull back into the quiet that she had felt for so long, but he expressed no such thing. Respect warmed her smile, and as a waiter came to deliver the refill, she pushed her chair back to rise.
"I'm glad they were unable to keep you dead," she told him earnestly. "And I hope Shii will share your mindset when the chance to return is before them. Thank you, for helping me with this. If I can return the favour, do let me know - I'd be happy to lend a hand." Especially if it meant one less Family member to worry about.
"As am I," Jack says, and it's easy for him to sound earnest about that as well. Maea rises to her feet and the captain settles back to accept his refill, using a napkin to absently mop the water from the table where his magically conjured ice has begun to melt. "I'll keep that in mind," he adds of a favour owed - because of course Jack isn't the type to forget an offer like that.
For now, though, it seems that their parting of ways is imminent, and he lifts his glass towards the Ancient in a casual cheers. "Have fun on the rest of your quest. Don't do anythin' I wouldn't," he chimes, before putting the glass to his lips for a long, steadying drink. Maea not know him all too well just yet, but based on their first meeting - where he'd landed unceremoniously in her boat at the Castaway - he thinks she might still have a bit of an idea.
~FIN
it's not your fault that you're always wrong the weak ones are there to justify the strong
