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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!
LongNight’s press still earned the usual round of trepidation down the depths of his spine, but with so many things to do, he couldn’t merely settle around the roots and stretches of Halo and mire through the thick of the evening. Instead, he journeyed to Torchline with Erebos in tow, picking up various supplies for several individuals, and once they’d crossed over market stalls and been relatively amused by the bonfires on the beach, though not participating, Deimos figured he’d pay his respects and gratitude along the wake of Safrin’s shrine.
Hand in hand with the toddler, they drifted along the sand. More than once the youth’s jubilant giggles caused the Sword to shake his head, amused, rather than contorting into shadow and dread. “We can start here,” he murmured, other hand outstretched, becoming golden with the light of his creation magic, then unfurling, revealing a lantern with fire already embedded. “And make a path,” as he lowered it to the ground, beginning to make more and more of the beacons – each beholden and shaped in a variety – some star-embedded, others reflecting the cosmos.
we exhume our enemy's bones we are battling, hungry beasts
Not so accustomed to an endless parade of festivities any more, given all his years of walling himself away in frozen woods, Iskra does have to step away from the party now and again. He doesn't mind wandering the more empty streets, matches in hand and flaring to life every so often as he helps reignite some fire pit or another to keep routes lit enough that no one, himself included, gets too lost in the dark. Although this place was once home, and there's familiar routes he finds himself wandering in old habit, it's not been home for so long that enough has changed and warped into something unrecognizable, especially in this moonless night. Still, wandering over older areas is like taking in a breath he held back too long. The memories rush back like a comfort, his smile trailing his features with a quiet fondness.
It's on his wayward path that he spots the lanterns, or specifically, the way they emerge ahead like the most helpful will'o'wisp. He trails after the firelit breadcrumbs, Goose padding lazy beside him, and the dog notices the familiar family well before Iskra does. His tail wags slow and idle against Iskra's leg before he rushes on ahead to sniff Erebos up and down, searching for spilled food he might lick off. "Hey!" Iskra calls out, squinting through the dark until the distance closes enough that the dance of lanternlight reveals Deimos and his child. "Oh," Iskra exclaims, curiosity breaking into recognition. "Deimos, Erebos, good to see you. Escaping the cold too?"
“Want to place this one?” he offered to the youth, and Erebos, stronger on his gangly limbs, grabbed hold of a lighter lantern, nodding enthusiastically until there was the sound of another approaching. Rising from his crouch immediately, the Sword altered his eyesight, utilizing all those attuned proportions until realizing it wasn’t a threat – recognizing Goose instantly, and Iskra soon after. Snorting, he took another breath and walled off the sudden bout of action threatening to coil in his spine, loosening it back to prior calm and composure. No more monsters in the endless night.
Though the canine seemed very centered on the toddler – and Erebos happily accepted the furry ball of fluff bounding towards him (used to the family’s companions, after all), with a loud “Doggy!” and taking his free hand to pet Goose’s head, his own generous grin swinging back up to glance at the Abandoned. “Hi!” His father gave a much smaller smile, but the resemblance would still be there. “Iskra,” Deimos greeted, arching his brow before creating another beacon, and placing it gently, somewhat farther away from its brethren, upon the ground. “Only a little. Had some things to pick up, so I figured I would leave offerings for Safrin.” His gaze flickered downward, towards bonfires in the distance. “Enjoying the party?”
we exhume our enemy's bones we are battling, hungry beasts
It should come as no surprise to him that the the ruler of Halo is not in any need to run from the land's most inhospitable time, treating the endless cold and stretch of dark like any other day to keep busy. Iskra himself is prone to sheltering and shivering through it all, hence coming here to try something else for a change. His head turns back the way he'd come, where light dances along the horizon like winking eyes dotting the stretch of black around them, less nefarious than intoxicated seeming with the uneven flickering abound. His easy smile slants into a rougher grin, as if guilty as charged. "Yeah, although this is quite the party. I don't remember it being quite so grand when I was younger, although I can't say long stretches of darkness appealed much to me as a kid." Bed times and such. He shrugs, gaze swinging back towards the Warden.
"Can't say I've ever prayed much to Safrin," Iskra notes with a mild shrug as he looks over the closest lantern. He hasn't paid most of the gods much mind over the years, and of them all Ludo seems the most fun, though he knows Halo owes a thing or two to the celestial goddess. "I'm happy to help, if I can. Not quite so skilled as you," at this Iskra nods towards the created devices, well beyond his means. "Having fire magic is certainly useful this time of year though, no matter where you're at." He laughs faintly, aware that Deimos is has practice in that regard too.
A lesser surprise might be that Deimos tended to avoid large parties and gatherings if he could help it. Ordinarily a bonfire might intrigue, but not with the amount rampaging through the sand. He could always ignite a few within Halo’s routes and streets, but he doubted many would want to come out amidst the weather – which was fine – most were prone to hunkering down this time of year, rather than unfurl. “Nor I, though I think that stems from being in the Grounds for some.” His nose wrinkled with obvious distaste; not much could be said positively for days locked behind barriers, with their own assortment of monsters.
His eyes flickered back to Erebos, who was eagerly scratching Goose behind his ears, then starting to waddle over to the lantern, depositing where he saw fit. A little askew, but the effort was there. He followed thereafter, tilting his head and listening as the creations flickered in another warm glow through his palms, and he handed off the beacon to the toddler again, who giggled with glee and ran a few steps ahead, constantly in sight. “She is not everyone’s preference,” he offered tactfully, though, knowing Iskra was Abandoned meant it would be that much more difficult – still, Deimos had gone through the same things. “Do you have a favorite?”
The offer of help caused another small grin to emerge, gaze going towards some portions not yet lit. “Agreed. If you want, you can light them. Then we can make something bigger at the end.” Of what he wouldn’t quite reveal, but conflagrations were something he was fond of.
we exhume our enemy's bones we are battling, hungry beasts
10-28-2025, 09:36 PM (This post was last modified: 10-28-2025, 09:37 PM by Iskra.)
Iskra
I'm chasing starlight to find it's died away
The reality of the darker days, darker even than this, spent in barriers is a sobering one that Iskra nods at. He says nothing else further on the matter because Blu knows fuck all about it or what Iskra was doing then, not needing either of them to delve into old nightmares.
Where Erebos tired of Goose, so too did the dog decide there was no food to be swiped or further scratches to be given. So with a loll of his tongue and a far too carefree attitude about wandering for someone so chickenshit, the dog meanders out in increasing arcs of distance to survey the area. A good mobile alarm, if nothing else.
Iskra watches after Goose for a moment as Deimos passes a new lantern off to the child, his attention returning when godly preferences earns a breathy laugh. "Favorite might be a strong term when I've only met Ludo once, and walked away cursed for it." Iskra's smile is tight with embarrassment, the scenario one born of his own impatience. "I suppose everything I know about the gods though, Ludo seems like it has the most fun with everything. Feels like we could also use a bit more fun sometimes." Though admittedly he's grown curious about each of the heralds, and maybe he'd not decide until getting a chance to meet them all.
Always happy to be useful, Iskra nods with the flash of a smile. "I can do that!" Rather than fumble at the matches in his pocket though, he does a poor impression of Deimos' magic, yanking on thought and idea until a tiny hearth fashioned like a grumpy porcupine emerges beside him from his Maker's Whimsy. It doesn't live, but it moves with an enchanted certainty, small legs pulling it along after them, each spine a lick of flame protruding from the black cauldron of its body. A source for his fire magic, and something cute and trivial to leave behind at the shrine.
Erebos gently placed the lantern down on the ground before skittering back over to Deimos, hands out for another. The Sword snorted, creating and contorting several more into fruition, some ghostly metallic and others black, another ivory, all made to reflect skies amidst stars. The youth giggled, tripped, gained traction and speed again before his father could do much else, and he shook his head, listening to Iskra all the while. “Cursed? That is a shame.” For all the times he’d been ignored before he chose to attune, he hadn’t been altered or changed into different aspects simply because he’d shown up at a shrine.
If amusements were what Iskra was after though, rather than any stark or strong connection, Deimos supposed Ludo was the correct choice – enough chaos riddled into the philosophies of old. He didn’t mind the raggedy herald; it’d helped with one of his own contortions and plans in the past. “Understandable, and you are probably right. Especially after everything with Starfall and the Family.” Hard to fathom it’d only been a couple seasons since; riddling and rankling with peace instead of fighting to exist.
The other Halovian seemed content regardless, and he watched as he angled past the Warden’s own flames, broadening them into something else. “Have you been able to make your own fire yet?”
we exhume our enemy's bones we are battling, hungry beasts
A hum of agreement rises to the Sword's take on Ludo's first impressions on Iskra. If anything, a sobering reminder that for all the spooky rag's fun, it's not without it's abilities to be serious, and Ludo seriously likes to stay warm. "Yeah, couldn't talk without shouting for a few days." A stray hand ruffles his hair, recalling the particularly painful affair of trying to talk to Sah after his anger had been spent.
"Did you know that Ludo hates the cold? Seems a bit strange to have a shrine to it in Halo. Didn't think anything of it, but I'm tempted to put up a warning sign there for everyone else." Or at the very least, post up with some popcorn and watch some other fool, because why break vicious cycles when you could be entertained by them instead? Then again maybe everyone's already smarter than him about that.
He shrugs away the thought, attention drifting to the hobbling creation at his side as talk shifts from gods to flame. "No," Iskra admits with a lofty sigh, disappointment curling in his chest. "I've been practicing a lot more than I used to, and it reaches further now than last you saw, but I still need a source." It'd be nice to save pocket room for something other than matches, although they've become such a security blanket now he's not sure he'll remember his own power once the time comes, just fumbling in a panic at his empty pants. "It feels close though. A lot closer than the lightning." Elements aren't fond of being controlled, and the gods don't give out guidebooks.
As if in proof, he draws a matchstick to life from his hand, tossing the little bit of wood into his created porcupine fire pit. It catches on the fuel wedged in there, and the glimmering thread of metallic heat he can feel rise in response in his veins is a thread he can grab onto only when the embers pulse nearby. He tugs on it, and is able to direct it towards one of the fresh lanterns Erebos has placed.
He didn’t know Iskra well enough to ascertain whether or not it’d be all right to laugh in response to the curse ordeal – so he muffled a snort, trying to keep it mostly to himself. There were worse things. If he figured it wouldn’t make it back to Ru somehow, he could’ve relayed the time she was turned ugly. “Not too bad then,” he offered instead, the light wrinkle to his nose as they worked. Erebos took a liking to swinging one lantern in his hands back and forth, until Deimos gave him a glance, and the toddler giggled before placing it nearby.
The following notions made his brow furrow though, rising back up from his crouch as he made more beacons. “I did know that, however, there is no specific shrine dedicated to Ludo in Halo.” Unless Noah was off making another one he wasn’t aware of. Again. Tilting his head, and wondering how Iskra had been confused by the ordeal, he shrugged. “Both of ours in the Citadel and Sea of Glass are for all the Old Gods.” If the Abandoned wanted to cultivate a better relationship with the raggedy herald, perhaps somewhere warmer would be beneficial.
Erebos giggled again, letting forth a bright squeal, the moment more fire came into play. Clearly delighted, he watched as Iskra brought the flames into the lanterns, clapping in glee, before taking another one of his father’s lanterns. “It will come with time, and practice,” Deimos noted; knowing that sometimes patience wasn’t the signature virtue of many. “Some seem to come automatically, and others with persistence.”
we exhume our enemy's bones we are battling, hungry beasts
Iskra slows for a moment as he rakes through his thoughts. He is not prone to visiting shrines, having lived his life perfectly fine without currying the favor of the gods for this long, so he has to reflect on what exactly he prayed to Ludo in front of. "Hmmm, I suppose you're right." As if there's any other condition it could be. "Well, could still do with some warning signs, since Ludo can be called there," he finishes with a shrug, still unsure if he'd do just that or continue to let others falter as he had. Though, since he can't even seem to bother to learn about the shrines he's kneeling at, maybe he'd have ignored posted warnings equally.
As Deimos' continued to create his bright offerings to Safrin, guiding the path to her shrine with these manmade stars in the absence of her own, Iskra continued to light them. His magic did not need to be tested here, hardly hitting it's limits and requiring control over intensity. Here, his practice made that easier, though it still did not break through that final barrier of mastery over the flames. "What was fire like for you? Practice, or immediate?" He glances down at his fingers, flexing them a little, as though the answer remained hidden somewhere beneath.
Deimos arched his brow at the ‘suppose’, since the Sword was perfectly aware of the shrine designations. “You are more than welcome to make some,” he gave with a light smile – not intending to add to his own piles of constant lists and to-do configurations. But the Warden had also presumed most those native to Halovian knew about the risks of snagging at Ludo in their colder climate.
Remaining busy with the lanterns and passing them over to Erebos, who didn’t seem to have a clearcut pattern on his toddler design (Deimos made a mental note to fix things to his liking once they were done), he listened to the inquiry. His mind went through the timeframes and diligence of magical expertise and practice – recalling the days upon arrival within Caido and the struggle there…and then, in some years after, scarcely at all. “Fire was immediate,” a sudden and influential turn of events for the man who recognized his father’s incantations and enchantments running through his veins. “But air and earth took much more time to develop.”
we exhume our enemy's bones we are battling, hungry beasts
Magic is one of those things that no one really seems to understand well. At least, as far as he knows, but he's certainly not the most studious person, nor is he a scientist of any sort. Maybe he could ask Elizabeth about this and she'd know something more than the mental shrug he feels rise up when Deimos admits his fire magic came fast and sudden. Nothing specific to the element then, though it's a bit of a relief to hear that even the Sword had to practice at some of them, like his air and earth. Which is funny, Iskra thinks, because he'd have much assumed the opposite about Deimos if it had anything at all to do with personality alignment. Then again, he doesn't know the Warden entirely well, just in the distance of tales and legends and as the figurehead of his home, where many other people crowd between them and his own preference to wander the woods adding to it.
"Hmmm," Iskra muses aloud, tilting his head back, but it's unsettling to just peer up at the faceless dark. Maybe he has more appreciation for Safrin than he ever realized, not particularly caring for her absence. "It seems we're just lucky enough to wield it, not to understand it." More flame dances from his hand into the lanterns, wherever it is that Erebos chooses to place them down.
“Maybe,” he ventured with a shrug. Years before, no one would have called them lucky or fortunate, given how much the Abandoned monicker had caused such disdain. But Deimos had always held his head high, not the least bit ashamed for the things that contorted through his blood. And given how beneficial the incantations and enchantments had been for the world of Caido, he couldn’t fathom many bothering with the malice any longer.
But then he was orchestrating more lanterns, and once Erebos (and Deimos, if he were being honest, fixed some so they’d form an actual pattern) had finished, he took a step back, snagging at his toddler so the youth clutched at one of his longer legs. “All right, time for the finale.” Granting Iskra a grin, which also could be construed as a warning, he started a bright flicker of flame in the middle of the gathered beacons. “Feel free to join in.”
From there, he unfurled the grandeur of the elements – not its destructive means, but in warmth and incandescence. The embers launched into conflagrations and infernos, towering high above, where Deimos began to alter and bend its shapes. Some of the fire formed into stars, moons, and galaxies, meant to signify Safrin’s power and domination over the skies, swaying and bending and swarming in alternating hues.
we exhume our enemy's bones we are battling, hungry beasts
Rather curious as to what Deimos has in store, Iskra comes to a halt alongside him, peering down at Erebos as though the toddler might give him a clue. He isn't left waiting long though, as light and heat flare into existence in the center, fire rippling out and then rising up in a series of designs. For a moment, Iskra is too wrapped up in the display to contribute, caught off guard by the beauty of what he'd always used as merely a tool and little else.
He does catch himself at some point though, open-mouthed as he may be, and promptly shuts his lips into a grin that's eager to join in. With fire aplenty nearby, the magic leaps to his command as well, not quite so impressive, but snaking along in bright, flickering obedience nonetheless. He attempts to mimic the varied colors Deimos uses, never having attempted to alter the intensity like that, and finds satisfaction at the ability to manage it. Where Deimos draws stars, Iskra connects a few into sets of constellations, some replicating the true ones, while others are of his own making.
"Quite the show!" Iskra commends, firelight dancing across all of them, and even beyond Goose pauses to look up at the display.
