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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!
// make me bleed if you need to confirm that it's something i can do //
The scent overwhelms him too, enough that between the rush of his blood and the adrenaline that courses through his veins, the butcher’s hands flex and squeeze, the curse escaping him. His eyes shut tight, preventing the world from trying to spin. Her voice is distant but there, an anchor that he clings to as she takes more of the blood from his neck into the lace.
He doesn’t quite reach the point of no return yet, restraining himself enough to know and realize he isn’t in any real danger. But there are times where the body outweighs the strength of the mind, and when she speaks it’s another anchor point that’s slowly losing its effectiveness. Such that as she leans closer into him, his breath hitches, shadows bleed from him like ink overflowing from the inkpot. They stretch out in all different directions before rising like a zombie ring of shadows, each with their own shark-tooth smile and eyes trained on her.
His tail whips faster, the ashen tip flicking back and forth with added effort but gods he’s determined. He’ll get through it, even if it takes a bit more time.
The air shifts, ink-black shadows blooming outward in jagged streaks, rising around her like a circle of ghouls with their stolen smiles. For a heartbeat Charlie's blue eyes sweep the room, quick and sharp, measuring them, making certain this was only Asta’s haunt taking form, and not something more sinister creeping through the Temple.
They leer, fanged and hollow-eyed, and for most they would be enough to shake the marrow loose. But Charlie only narrows her gaze, lashes lowering as her lips peel back in a feral little smile of her own. She shows her teeth right back at them, pearly and dangerous, the priestess unwilling to give the spectres even a taste of victory.
Her body hunches lower over Asta’s, protective and unyielding, tail lashing once like a whip before curling possessively around the sodden lace she holds. Her voice is a velvet purr, but sharpened at the edges like the knife still gleaming in her hand. Her blue eyes snap back to Asta, softened in an instant, adoration flooding through as if to smother the shadows in warmth. Whatever darkness he bled into the room, Charlie would bear it, bare her fangs at it, and keep drawing him steady through every drop. "A few more beats of your heart and you'll have done it," she whispers, low and sure.
Mark your territory, Tell me I'm the only, only, only, only one
Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3
Hella golden retriever energy. Small unrefined horns made of ruby. Regular spade-shaped tail.
// make me bleed if you need to confirm that it's something i can do //
They can’t do much more than just intimidate – and Charlie; sweet, lovely, darling Charlie, is brilliant as always. Sharp and feral herself as she grins back at the shadows that watch her intently. They reach for her, harmlessly, helplessly, stretching and warping and losing their sharp outlines with the way Asta’s mind begins to buzz and he forces every ounce of thought and willpower into ensuring he doesn’t break his arms loose from where he’s currently clutching them against his back.
Her voice is distant, a whisper that’s placed in the same vein as chimes and bells, the blood slowing as his breathing grows ragged and tired, his chest sore with the weight of how hard his heart has been forced to beat. He doesn’t quite get to see the end result, as it turns out, because those last few beats of his heart drag him under the blanket of darkness he’d been fighting this entire time. Not dead (not that it would matter much in the rage room), but certainly blacked out.
The second he loses consciousness, the butcher’s haunt drops. The shadows fall from the room, leaving him there limp and completely unaware of anything else that happens, head slumping to the side unless Charlie aims it a certain way. At least the tension in his jaw has loosened, accompanied by the sickly paleness to his usually warm skin tone.
Charlie knows the exact moment Asta slips beneath the dark tide; not because his head lolls or his chest stutters, but because every sharpened instinct in her hums with the change. Predatory senses scream that he’s gone slack, unconscious, the heartbeat slowing into that dangerous lull. But Charlie doesn’t falter. Not until the lace is drunk deep, every pale thread saturated crimson, does she relent. The priestess holds steady, tail curling reverently as she lifts the sodden relic away and sets it on the counter with all the delicacy of a chalice in ceremony.
Different circumstances might have let her tug him free by hand, but here? With the slab sticky with his blood, his weight anchored, it’s no good. She wrinkles her nose, makes her choice. "Oh, Asta," she sighs, affectionate even now, "I'm sorry for this in advance."
In an instant she’s dart!ed to the door, swinging it open before flashing back to his side. The shift overtakes her like an eclipse; one heartbeat she’s blonde and radiant, the next she’s onyx-scaled and monstrous, wings and horns and serpentine length forcing every inch of the rage room to buckle around her. It isn’t elegant, it isn’t tidy, and it isn’t meant to be. Stone groans, foundations crack, the world shrieks under her impossible bulk as she drives her body forward, using sheer size to shove the limp butcher out through the narrow spill of freedom.
The moment he clears the threshold she’s gone again, dart!ing out on delicate heels just as the room threatens to crumble under her weight. And as her feet kiss the floor outside, the Temple sighs back into order, the rage room knitting itself whole and pristine once more, as if no dragon had ever burst through its bones.
Mark your territory, Tell me I'm the only, only, only, only one
Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3
Hella golden retriever energy. Small unrefined horns made of ruby. Regular spade-shaped tail.
// make me bleed if you need to confirm that it's something i can do //
He’s completely unaware of everything around him, for the extent of bloodloss he’s endured. Unconscious and unhelpful, shadows vanished and body limp. As Charlie’s quick thinking gets to work and the rage room creaks and screams beneath the weight of the dragon, Asta is none the wiser, even after he’s forcefully shoved.
He hits the ground rather hard – but that’s alright, he’s not going to remember or feel it once he gets past the threshold. And with a few more inches of freedom until he’s fully slipped across it, he blinks awake with a gasp – sitting up, trying to take in the world around him, watching the rage room knit itself back together as he tries to reorient himself. His breath has increased, blunt fingernails digging into the Temple’s stone flooring, looking up to Charlie with a touch of relief.
“Did it work, darling?” He asks in a breathless tone, hand lifting to his neck to feel perfectly healed skin beneath its touch, clothes not even lingering with the hint of iron or the stickiness of blood. Even still, the butcher withdraws his fingers to glance down at them just to make sure.
Charlie beams down at the butcher the instant he blinks awake, blue eyes radiant as she drops to her knees at his side. Her nose wrinkles in that familiar, affectionate way of hers as she leans closer, brushing her gaze toward the rage room where the lace still sits heavy and crimson upon the slab. Her tail waggles idly, and she taps one finger against the curve of her cheek in thought before her pout curves into a grin.
"It absolutely did work," she purrs, tilting her head so golden curls tumble around her shoulders. "Only..once that lace leaves the room it’ll look like nothing ever touched it, buttttt that’s hardly a problem, is it? I think our Dark Lady will love it all the more. Chaos, entropy, blood given and then undone? That’s her sort of poetry." Her fangs flash white in her grin, sharp and sure, before her gaze softens again on him.
Her hand drifts lightly toward one of his own to help him up if needed, as she studies the pallor of his skin, the ragged edge of his breath, as if weighing the last of his strength. "Are you feeling alright,? You did so well in there," she gushes more gently, her voice husky with warmth, steady and grounding against the remnants of dizziness and shadows.
Mark your territory, Tell me I'm the only, only, only, only one
Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3
Hella golden retriever energy. Small unrefined horns made of ruby. Regular spade-shaped tail.
// make me bleed if you need to confirm that it's something i can do //
Satisfied to see that there’s no blood lingering on his fingers, his dark gaze lifts to spot Charlie as she drops to her knees at his side, her affection palpable from the way she hovers and the wrinkle to her nose. “Mm, well, if it is I am sure she will tell me.” He doesn’t doubt that if it didn’t meet the requirements that Dygra would have zero qualms in telling him so, so that he could make it perfect.
He peers past her through the doorframe to the rage room to see it still lingering with his blood – drying and fraying at the edges, imagining that the second he leaves with it it’ll look as though nothing had happened. Perhaps it would leave a trace of a memory behind, a reminder that what happened did, even if the damage had vanished.
Blinking back over to her when she checks in on him, he flashes her a brighter, shark toothed smile. “Yes. I feel as perfect as I did when I stepped in.” Which was an odd and jarring experience, remembering the bite of pain, the gushing blood, the way he had held himself together enough to try and prevent any damage to her occurring before he oculdn’t remember what happened next. “I suppose it is good to know that I can elegantly withstand nearly fatal blood loss, mm?” He says with a huff of a laugh.
Charlie beams, her confidence in Dygra’s acceptance unshakable. The lace may lose its crimson stain beyond the threshold, but the offering had been made, the chaos sung, of that, she has no doubt.
Her bright blue eyes sparkle as she looks down at him, gaze slipping briefly to his neck as if to triple-check for some phantom wound left gaping. Finding nothing but flawless olive skin, she exhales in a little satisfied hum, her tail flicking lazily behind her as her head tilts. "I can’t think of anyone I’ve ever seen endure it as well as you did," she purrs, voice rich with approval. "You barely even moved. You didn’t fight it or ask me to stop."
Her grin sharpens, wicked and gleaming as her eyes catch his. "Your haunt, though..." she drawls, "...babe, it was terrifying. If I hadn’t known what to expect, it might have genuinely made me want to run." She flashes her fangs in a grin full of both delight and danger, reveling in the memory of it.
Leaning in as though sharing a secret meant for him alone, her voice drops into a conspiratorial whisper, sweet as sin. "It’ll probably give me nightmares still." A sparkle of delighted mischief lights her eyes, as though the very idea were a badge of honour, a point of pride that he had been so utterly, gloriously terrifying.
Mark your territory, Tell me I'm the only, only, only, only one
Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3
Hella golden retriever energy. Small unrefined horns made of ruby. Regular spade-shaped tail.
09-24-2025, 12:54 PM (This post was last modified: 09-24-2025, 01:00 PM by Astaroth.)
// make me bleed if you need to confirm that it's something i can do //
Despite Charlie’s rich approval, the butcher’s still trying to catch his breath as he hums a soft laugh to her. “I am unsure what that says about me.” He admits, even if his main line of thinking is that he’s endured so much that he probably wouldn’t react to it like a sane person. But it likely also helped to be amongst a dear friend in the process. Such that he perks up when she mentions his haunt, his honey gaze focusing in on her with appreciation.
“Perhaps on a better day I shall show you its true form.” He drawls, reaching up to tug her into a gentle hug with the closeness she’s in. “That is, if you wish to continue the nightmare theme.” He hums as he releases her, tipping her a wink that’s both mischievous and playful before it’s vanishing in favor for his gratitude.
He stands to his full height, runs his hands along his neck again, down the scarred top of his chest before his arms as if he’s shaking out the sensation of what had only just occurred. Then, he offers his hand to her to help her up so he can go and retrieve the scarf. “Thank you so much for your help, darling. Shall I make you some tea or take you on a hunt to show you my gratitude?” He asks as he pockets the bloodstained silk and plucks his knives back up and into place.
Regardless of her choice, the butcher’s feeling on cloud nine with the success of how heavy the lace has become with his blood, even if it’s for the moment before he departs the door. His mood improved immensely, his energy returned, such that whether she chooses tea or a hunt he's ready to treat her.
