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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!
07-16-2025, 01:59 PM (This post was last modified: 07-17-2025, 06:15 PM by Colt.)
COLT
Somewhere near the start of all the docks and merchant boats, a black gelding dozes where he's been left tied. Colt strolls the wooden platforms with a steady, but unhurried gait, drifting from one familiar stall to another as she restocks an assortment of key supplies (read: tequila) and 'window' shops. The day has just begun to lose some of its light, the newborn sunset already promising to put on an impressive display against the distant thunderheads that have gathered on the horizon over the water. It's making some of the sailors nervous, and their shops are closing up earlier than normal.
It's one such shop she's watching, too far to make it to in time, that causes her to stop. She has to tilt her head just so to keep the glint of the sun in the water off her eyes, but she can still see her hope of a new lemon flavored cheese wheel hauling away. It sets the faintest frown on her features, given it'd been half the reason she'd come here. There goes her well laid dinner plans, which consisted of that cheese and some crackers. Guess the tequila will have to do all the heavy lifting tonight.
A shout followed by a chorus of laughter pulls her attention over her shoulder, gaze drawn to the nearby skyship that drifts a bit out of place among all the vendor stalls.
If I go missing, don't bother looking, I'm probably just riding the wind 'Cause cowboys and sunsets, you can always count on them, but never to stay I guess I'm a cowboy, 'cause there's a sunset on the way
Received a Gilded Market wig from Remi that resembles her usual hair and is enchanted to stay on better than most wigs | has a reverse centaur tattoo on her left hand with the legs going down her pointer and middle fingers that looks like this.
It's thanks to the nervousness of the other vendors that The Ark is able to berth this close to the Exchange; normally the galleon is left out in the deeper waters due to her size when compared to the floating market traders, but at this time of day and with this sort of weather on the horizon? She's free to take up as much space as she likes. The chorus of laughter, of course, comes from the scattered crew milling about on her main deck. The shout, though, comes from a large, well-muscled man in a raggedy outfit that is far too small, showing off quite a lot of bare thigh and threatening to give a peek at even more if he raises his arms too high.
"If that's what you reckon Ludo looks like," Jack calls at Bassian with a wince, "I ain't sure I'm ever leavin' another offerin' for good weather again." More laughter ripples across the crew, and the ship's captain peels himself away to lean against the railing whilst, it appears, a renewed wave of shitfuckery begins behind him under the guise of arts and crafts.
He spots Colt bathed in shadow and amber from the light of the slowly fading sun, Jack tilting his head to peer at her over the shade of his sunglasses before, once he's certain who he's seeing, he offers her a lazy salute in greeting.
you wanted perfect, you got your perfect but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
There's the start of a smile playing out on her lips as the ruckus gives way to a voice, catching only snippets of the half-hearted insult above the the dock groaning against the sigh of the sea. She doesn't place its owner immediately, not until he appears along the rail with the loose-limbed confidence of someone who doesn’t fight the sway underfoot, just moves with it. He's thrown into the haze of low light and sharp shadows, a bit hard to discern, except for an all too recognizable gaze that seems like he's figured out how to set ice on fire.
His salute sends her smile all the way, full recognition settling as she calls out to him. "Nice dinghy!" The best equivalent she can muster to a cow. "You looking for more work? I'm gonna be castrating all the calves soon, happy to give you some rocky mountain oysters in return." The edge of a laugh comes in, already knowing the answer she'll get, although for all his evident lack of comfort in the saddle he'd managed rather well.
If I go missing, don't bother looking, I'm probably just riding the wind 'Cause cowboys and sunsets, you can always count on them, but never to stay I guess I'm a cowboy, 'cause there's a sunset on the way
Received a Gilded Market wig from Remi that resembles her usual hair and is enchanted to stay on better than most wigs | has a reverse centaur tattoo on her left hand with the legs going down her pointer and middle fingers that looks like this.
Jack's eyes narrow at the dinghy comment, his hand pressing against his chest as if Colt has gravely wounded him. "She won't thank you for that," he calls back, referring of course to the ship whose deck he stands upon. "An' as fun as I imagine it'd be to emasculate cattle - you shut up too, you ain't goin'-" he snips over his shoulder at the man in the too-short Ludo rags, "-we're outta here in the mornin'. Oh - watch your back."
The last comment is due to another couple of sailors bustling past Colt with a box of assorted fabrics and feathers and card and elastic, and they hustle up The Ark's gangplank to the renewed cheering of the rest of the crew. "Don't s'pose you know how to make a passable Ludo costume?" Jack drawls. "These fucks'll be at it all night an' it'll still look more like a deflated sail."
you wanted perfect, you got your perfect but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
07-20-2025, 11:47 AM (This post was last modified: 07-21-2025, 10:27 PM by Colt.)
COLT
The laughter shakes free fully at his response, made all the easier for the back talk he has to give to his crew that seem more than happy to keep playing cowboy. She side steps at his warning, the humor fading away as she curiously looks after the box of odds and ends that are lugged past, 'brows lifting when she finds it's an assortment of fabrics rather than ropes and fish or whatever it is boatmen are always hauling around.
She glances back up towards Jack as his question coasts along the dock, earning a crooked smirk from her and a huff of a breath. She steps after the sailors with a lazy pursuit, "if you're asking for a woman's touch I'm afraid I'll leave you sorely disappointed." She can patch a tear or sew a button, but she’s better at stitching skin than any kind of outfit. "Might still be better than your lot though," she chuckles, mostly to herself, and at the continued raucous noise of craft making rising from the already gathered supplies onboard.
Cresting onto the deck level, she surveys the gathered shit show with a tilt of her head, amusement maintaining its grip on her as the image of the burly sailor strapped in a too-short wash of fabric fully greets her. "My, that's a sight." She sighs through her nose the same way she does when she's found a cow stuck in a fence it easily could have gone around. Without looking she extends her bottle of tequila to Jack. "Don't suppose you could make this all frosty? I'm even willing to share. Seems this might take a while."
If I go missing, don't bother looking, I'm probably just riding the wind 'Cause cowboys and sunsets, you can always count on them, but never to stay I guess I'm a cowboy, 'cause there's a sunset on the way
Received a Gilded Market wig from Remi that resembles her usual hair and is enchanted to stay on better than most wigs | has a reverse centaur tattoo on her left hand with the legs going down her pointer and middle fingers that looks like this.
"Ain't necessarily a woman's touch I'm after - I ain't picky in that regard," Jack says with a sharp flash of teeth. "Jus' someone with enough sense not to offend the fuckin' trickster herald at its own masquerade." And if it wasn't clear already, he hasn't got high hopes at all in that regard when it comes to his crew; Colt is about to get an eyeful of that fact as she steps on deck, too.
"One word for it," he scoffs his agreement at the burly sailor. "That's Bassian - he's also the reason I ended up in a fuckin' saddle for two days. He wanted to help you herd cows for whatever gods-forsaken reason, before he decided to fuck up an ankle the night before."
Rolling his eyes, Jack reaches out for the bottle of tequila almost at the same time as Colt offers it, and no sooner has he taken the glass into his hands when it's rimed with frost, chilling the liquor within. "You're too kind. An' it'll take all night if there ain't anyone around to stop 'em. I'm hopin' it don't come to that, though."
you wanted perfect, you got your perfect but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
Her eyes flick to him at his comment, unsure if he meant it that way or if she just took it that way. The sudden wolf's smile he's wearing is proof enough though, and she exhales a short laugh of disbelief at him before Bassian steals the entirety of her focus. Jack's explanation of the man before her perfectly suits the image of the grinning goon, and given how amenable Jack seems to be to the soft-hearted ruffian's whims, this must be the man's touch the captain is just as fond of.
"No shit?" She looses a low breath, tilting her hat towards the man who is arguably wearing a dress shorter than some of her own. "Then it's you I have to thank honey, for rustlin' up enough rough riders for me. Now I'll know who to call next time I need help, if your ankle's up to it." She winks at Bassian, as if his plan to get Jack to play with horses is a well kept secret she'll maintain.
His grip on the tequila is faster than she anticipates, and it snags a sudden glance from her, worried she misjudged the distance between them and had clobbered him with it. He's just quick, it'd seem, a man well versed on what it takes to make alcohol truly satisfying. The ice crawls along the glass like it’s alive, crystals shaping into fragments that catch the dying light like diamonds—just not quite so forever. Sometimes it's prettier when it's fragile, when you know you have to enjoy it before you lose it.
"All you magicians make me jealous," she admits with the press of a smile in one of her cheeks. "Sure seems to make everything simpler. The spirits are a little more," she waves her hand like there's dust in the air, "wishy washy." Might be that between horses and cattle doing dumb shit all day long she's run out of patience by the time she gets to the divine and all their fickle natures. She reaches back for the frosted tequila, peeling off the top as she eyes the crowd and their crafts. She doesn't miss the way he acts like he has no control over them, much like she'll feign that the dogs have the run of the house on days when she's too tired to be in charge any more. "So is the plan a dark ballerina, or is that kinda just what happened?"
If I go missing, don't bother looking, I'm probably just riding the wind 'Cause cowboys and sunsets, you can always count on them, but never to stay I guess I'm a cowboy, 'cause there's a sunset on the way
Received a Gilded Market wig from Remi that resembles her usual hair and is enchanted to stay on better than most wigs | has a reverse centaur tattoo on her left hand with the legs going down her pointer and middle fingers that looks like this.
If only - Jack('s magic) happens to know that Bassian flies as straight as an arrow, despite what his shenanigans might suggest, and luckily the captain is well-schooled in the game of serving neutral face such that he manages not to crack up at Colt's wandering thoughts. "Don't threaten him with a good time," he drawls, turning properly now to face the deck and the box of bullshit the crew have brought on board. "An' don't poach him for a cowboy either. I reckon his enthusiasm makes up for his skill in that arena."
As for his magic, Jack scoffs and surrenders the tequila bottle back to Colt. "S'got its perks an' its downsides, same as anythin' else," he says. "I got lucky in the magic roulette - most of my skills are suited to this." Gesturing to the ship, the captain at last peels himself away from the rail to investigate the box, dragging out some dark material that would make a suitable cloak. "It just happened, but I reckon it's here to stay unfortunately," he says of Bassian the dark ballerina (a ballerina who is now animatedly making a Ludo mask).
"You gonna go to this masquerade thing?"
you wanted perfect, you got your perfect but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
Enthusiasm is possibly the last thing she needs, so Jack's half-hearted warning is heeded, though she can't keep the curl of amusement at bay in imagining the large lad trying his best. She just might have to send a box of stick horses one day, for Bassian, definitely not to rile the crew up. Matching cowboy hats with an elastic chin strap too. She'll save that for a rainy day.
Tequila in hand, chilled and unwrapped, she takes a swig while she glances the way he gestures. The heat of the liquor settles familiar and welcome as she fully takes in the ship and its rusty sails, admiring it as one might art they don't quite get but can appreciate the effort that built it. "Hmm, and here I thought you were just a fancy bartender." As for the ups and downs of it all, seems that's just life, but good to know the old saying about green grass seems to hold true.
"I think Ludo would appreciate it honestly," she commends with a tilt to her lips, drifting closer like a wreck she can't keep from watching. She sets her bottle down next to the box, pulling out a strand of black ribbon that she holds up with one eye closed against the fabric he's unrolling. "Probably," she sighs, placing the ribbon to the side while she digs around for something else. "I'm never one to miss a party, but I gotta say, I'm not fond of the dress code or all the mystery." She pulls out something with hanging fringe, which she puts in a different pile. "I prefer to know who I'm dancing with, or at least know what they look like. So, maybe I'll just watch. Bound to be something interesting happening if no one knows who anyone is." Sounds like a minefield of mistakes to be honest, or the opportunity to take something and pass it off as such, which is a mess she'd rather stay out of.
If I go missing, don't bother looking, I'm probably just riding the wind 'Cause cowboys and sunsets, you can always count on them, but never to stay I guess I'm a cowboy, 'cause there's a sunset on the way
Received a Gilded Market wig from Remi that resembles her usual hair and is enchanted to stay on better than most wigs | has a reverse centaur tattoo on her left hand with the legs going down her pointer and middle fingers that looks like this.
"Nah, I only bartend on special occasions," Jack drawls. "Every other day I'm this." Cattle-coralling aside, anyway. Gazing up at The Ark with the familiarity and fondness of an old lover - a rare crack in the captain's mask - he watches the way the sunset drenches her ruddy sails the colour of blood and paints fire onto the dark, laquered wood, before turning his attention back to the chaos on the deck.
"Ain't ever brushed with the trickster myself," he mutters of Ludo. "There's a statue dedicated to it in Torchline, though. S'good luck to pay an offerin' before a long voyage, an' I've learned not to disregard dumb fuckin' luck when it comes to the sea." No amount of skill can change adverse weather or creatures lurking in the deep, after all.
While Colt digs through ribbon and fringe, Jack settles on a billowing, light material, black as pitch, that feels as if it would be a suitable (and easy) base for a costume. "Yeah, I ain't usually one for this shit," he admits. "With the Family havin' fucked off, though, any excuse to get shitfaced feels like a good idea."
you wanted perfect, you got your perfect but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
Admittedly, she doesn't know the bundle of cloths that likes pranks very well either, doesn't even have a local shrine for it. She knows enough, but the notion that it likes to torment sailors who don't offer taxes of goodwill seems peculiar, more like a superstition than any divine toll. Which, fine enough to pay such a price just for the hell of it, the same way she's always a little leery of putting her hat down on her bed, even if she knows it's foolish. All Jack would be out of is a bit of time and some toys or candies, which seems a small price to pay for an intact hull, or even just the idea of one. "Y'know, I've found an even more sure fire trick for that," she grins, gaze flicking to his briefly. "I just avoid the sea. Haven't run into a kraken yet, if you'd believe it." Remi doesn't count in this case. "Since I'm guessing that's off the table for you, better make sure your outfit is finer than a frog hair split four ways."
With some beads and fringe set into a keep pile, and some lace and ribbon set aside in Jack's pile, Colt draws out a sheer bolt of voile, more like dusk on its own, but layered over itself, takes on something close to midnight. "Wait," she says, pausing her rustling for a minute to glance seriously at him, features drawn taut as a virgin. "You're supposed to have an excuse for that?" her 'brows rise in disbelief, and she abandons the cloth for the time being to hold up her tequila bottle. "Do ya think dinner counts?"
If I go missing, don't bother looking, I'm probably just riding the wind 'Cause cowboys and sunsets, you can always count on them, but never to stay I guess I'm a cowboy, 'cause there's a sunset on the way
Received a Gilded Market wig from Remi that resembles her usual hair and is enchanted to stay on better than most wigs | has a reverse centaur tattoo on her left hand with the legs going down her pointer and middle fingers that looks like this.
"A bit," Jack agrees - off the table is putting it mildly. "Though she sails as well through the air than in the sea these days, so if we do get into any trouble, there's usually a way to get out of it." And he won't deny that it's been a reassurance to know The Ark is quite unlikely to sink, so long as they can get her into the sky before she takes on too much water.
Wrinkling his nose at the idea of making even the most cursory effort on his outfit, the captain nevertheless sighs his acceptance and gathers the ribbon and lace Colt has apparently designated as belonging to him. As he goes rummaging once again into the box for something that might make a good template for a mask, her dramatics are enough to have a laugh rumbling up in his chest.
"I've heard havin' an excuse locked an' loaded is good practice for anythin'," he says, glancing over his shoulder and raising his eyebrows at the tequila bottle, i.e. dinner. "An' not only is that a fine one, it's a good choice for dinner as well."
you wanted perfect, you got your perfect but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
"Spoken like someone accustomed to wriggling out of trouble," she remarks with a gleam to her eye as she looks at him around the shape of the tequila. "Or maybe someone used to startin' it." Sometimes it's one and the same. With the sweet ring of his approval still humming through the air, she pops off the bottle's top and takes another pull of fire, one eye winking of its own accord against the smooth draught that nevertheless has an edge to it. She sets it back down near him, a pointed look given. He'd surely not make her drink alone and leave himself to future visions of shitfacery.
When he goes on the hunt for a mask, she steps in, grabbing up his assembled dark fabric and holding the edges up to his shoulders, fingers barely brushing the edges of his current clothing while she measures a line that would permit movement without providing too much tension. "I'd hate for you to end up like Bassian," she murmurs as she reaches for a pin from one of the piles she sorted, bunching the fabric beneath the point. A few more pins a set in the corner of her lip, sharp side out, as she gathers the material in a wreath around to the front of him. "Mm, too long here," she mutters, mostly to herself, the sound a bit broken around the need to keep the pins steady. She tilts her head, trying to be sure, before reaching out to pin it around him temporarily. "Stand still," she commands, "I only got one shot and I don't have the practice to be chasing your sways."
This at least is easy enough, getting the overall shape of it down, ensuring he has enough, without it being too much. As for the neat and styled pleats, the scope of arm waving and the added layers of ribbon, she can't say she can pull that off quite so well. She traders out the pins for a set of shears, testing the feel of them on the air and grabbing another pull of liquor before reaching back for his cloak.
If I go missing, don't bother looking, I'm probably just riding the wind 'Cause cowboys and sunsets, you can always count on them, but never to stay I guess I'm a cowboy, 'cause there's a sunset on the way
Received a Gilded Market wig from Remi that resembles her usual hair and is enchanted to stay on better than most wigs | has a reverse centaur tattoo on her left hand with the legs going down her pointer and middle fingers that looks like this.
"Guilty as charged for both," Jack says easily; anyone who knows him, or even knows of him, would likely agree. And her thoughts speak of her willingness to share even without the pointed look, the captain reaching down to snag the bottle of tequila for a pull from it. The grimace that curls across his lips gives him away - he's no stranger to liquor in the slightest, but he's more for rum and whiskey than this - but it's pleasant enough, and he raises the bottle in a quick thanks before he's setting it back down.
Having just straightened up with a suitable mask template in hands, the burn of the tequila and the chaos of the crew nearby is such that he doesn't realise Colt's intentions until she's already up in his business, the captain bristling automatically and casting a sharp glance over his shoulder at her. There are no what are you doings or can I help yous, because it doesn't take a genius to figure it out with or without telepathy, but there's a distinct cold feeling that isn't at all in her head as she flits around him. The ice that has begin to spider out from his feet and the frost riming his fingers is still more subtle than it could be, though, especially as she barks at him to keep still.
"A rancher and a seamstress," Jack drawls, surprised into compliance more than anything else. "Didn't realise those two professions crossed over so much." Outside of a brothel, the last person to touch him so casually was Flora, and that's a reminder that's not entirely welcome.
you wanted perfect, you got your perfect but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
