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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 Fangs were eternally an intriguing portion of the landscape, and had gone through their own trials and errors over the years. Initially housing a portal to ensure the masses could get to Halo, though consecrated by the Voice, eventually losing that, to holding their springs, opening itself up to the world on alterations and changes, before the Family could demolish their healing portions. Halovians were the type to endure; they’d forged along and fixed the onslaught the parasitic creatures had left behind, but Deimos still rounded along on patrol there, always a little more on guard in the proximity.
Today though there only seemed to be jagged edges, the glow of some mushrooms nestled in absent-minded corners, and the stillness of freezing water and melted ice. His eyes still swept across the scenery more than once, the soldier intentions never quite leaving him no matter how many wars he’d survived. Arching a brow towards Iskra though, his rumble persisted again. “What did you need to do for this training?” Deimos hadn’t gone to the barracks because he’d known he would have to use some all-encompassing incantations, and he didn’t want to have to repair so many burnt edges in the warriors’ thresholds (again). But that might not have been the case for the other Abandoned.
01-04-2026, 10:45 PM (This post was last modified: 01-04-2026, 10:45 PM by Iskra.)
Iskra
This world is a wasteland, nothing can grow
Tugging up his scarf higher around his face as they move through the Fangs, Iskra does his best to it to keep the glare of the sun on the snow from bouncing brighter into his eyes. He has on some sunglasses, and a ballcap over his beanie, all of it an effort to combat the clear and crisp Longheat days that seem more brutal than usual so far this season. Heat is not really an issue here, but the sun brings its own problems when it's out in such force.
Goose weaves along behind them, sniffing and pissing at every odd rock they cross, only to rush to catch up and then fall behind with distractions again. "Just need to use the shield Ludo's helping me make," he answers, glancing over to Deimos as they prepare for battle once again. The bony carapace piece he'd crafted into a shield but by bit since claiming it from the desert with Mel is currently strapped to his back, and he reaches back to shift it down now, holding it out for Deimos to fully observe. "Bone," he explains, "seemed fitting since I'm building it after my father. Ludo will make it fireproof." Although Ludo did not say it has to battle fire for this affair, but he supposes it wouldn't hurt to continue to test it to flame, among other things.
His eyes went to the shield; bone, infused with desert contortions. His head tilted mildly at the notions of building something after one’s father; if there was a touch of a small smile there at the thought, he didn’t say why. Perhaps his own existence, amidst the flames especially, would carry on some legacy, but he certainly had never felt shame in his magic, spreading the notion that no other Abandoneds should either. “Very nice,” came on the rumble of approval, a well-meaning nod. “Are you making things after both of your parents?”
When the inquiry came back to him, his eyes roamed over the wide-open landscape. “I have been trying to increase power in my fire magic.” Much like when they’d trained last season – building on the tempest of incantations over and over again, until there was much more behind all those enchantments. “This time I need to use it defensively. We could probably make it work between all those parameters.” His brow arched as his gaze went back to Iskra, giving him the opportunity to express ideas, or the basic notion of having him come towards the Sword, and Deimos simply trying not to burn him while guarding and securing his own footholds.
At the question, Iskra nods, something like a shy smile fitting into place as his thoughts drift over memory of his mother. His father's item is a ghost, built around ideas and stories, but his mother's item is known, and he pulled from her core to make it in her image. "Yeah, Ludo already made my mother." It's brief, but there's a faint pause before Iskra seems to catch himself and quickly adds on, "'s item, a lightning greataxe. Too heavy to lug both around, I'll need to work on some way to summon them from rings or tattoos or something. Would help with recall too, almost lost the axe to the swamp already." Maybe means he shouldn't throw it, but you go run up to swing at a giant toad, he'd prefer to stay further back. For now at least, maybe once day he'd feel strong enough to run in barbarian style into chaos and war, but he's content to stay behind the reach of his fire and let it lash forth.
So it is that Ampere is back at home, and only half-made Gaucho is here with him, but he has his magics and his woodcutting axe on his belt, so he is not without options. "That's right," he says with brush of his hand to his beard, thoughtful for a moment. "Wasn't sure when you might have finished that, but happy to challenge it again." That fight had been fun, and he grins wider with the memory of it now. "I could get more in melee range, try to use the shield as a weapon and a barrier? Otherwise my elements and axe are available," though he's a touch doubtful, because fire on it's own is not a great defender, in his experience. It could be paired with Deimos' other abilities, but even as a shield it serves more as a deterrent due to the pain it would grant any who dare come close, which is why melee reach might work best in this case, a choice Iskra might not normally make against a fire wielder for risk of his own hide. All the more reason for his shield then, though.
A flicker of movement catches the eye as several Frost Foxes bound into view, their white coats nearly indistinguishable from the snow until they move. They dart and tumble through drifts, clearly more interested in play than caution.
One approaches boldly before skidding to a stop, head tilted in curiosity, while another circles behind, tail swishing with unmistakable excitement. They nip at one another and scamper away, only to return moments later, utterly unfazed.
The small group lingers, curious and energetic, treating the frozen world like an endless game until something new draws their attention elsewhere.
Frost Fox
Areas Found: Halo — Uncommon
After generations of ingesting small amounts of mageglass, these fox descendants have undergone magical mutations. Always cold to the touch and impervious to Halo's freezing conditions, their fur always has a bit of frost clinging to it. Instead of yipping, their calls can be likened to the sound of ice creaking and cracking.
Challenge Rating: Easy | Mythical
HP: 233 | To Hit: +26 | Dmg: 14 Movement: Walk 40 ft.; Snow Sprint 50 ft.; Climb 10 ft.
SPECIAL SKILLS
Frost Step: pawprints briefly glaze into slick ice, hindering pursuers; Hoarfrost Veil: shakes loose a haze of glittering frost that lightly obscures vision; Shard Sense: subtly drawn to, and reactive around, nearby mageglass deposits or items
TRAITS
Cold-Immune: utterly unbothered by Halo’s freezing conditions; Mageglass-Touched: subtle magical resonance from generations of ingesting mageglass; Glacial Camouflage: frost-dusted fur blends into snow and rime; Ice-Creak Call: vocalizations sound like creaking, cracking ice and carry far over frozen plains
ACTIONS
Snap & Shiver: a quick bite that leaves numbing cold in its wake; Crackling Call: an eerie creak-and-crack cry that startles and unsettles would-be hunters; Snowbound Feint: vanishes into blowing snow and reappears a short distance away
They were all ghosts at one point or another – Deimos had a litany of them, tucked away in the junctures of his memories and the hollowed portions of his ribs. But Iskra had made them tangible, where many wraiths couldn’t be. He caught the slip but didn’t say anything on it; fully aware of the sharp pain that came with loss, how ties slipped together, knotted, gnarled, or cut away thereafter. So he nodded at the description, a flicker of a grin at the notions of a greataxe, even if it had already been nearly lost. “You could always place the recall right on the item. Make it smaller in a charm. There are ways and options.” Preferences were exactly that; Iskra would figure it out as time went on.
As far not yet finishing his own quest, he snorted. “Sometimes there are many steps,” came on a shrug; the Sword was hardly complacent, busy in multitudes and finding time to commit to his own growth when it was available. “That could work. We can try it and see, and if it is too much, we alter it.” No rush, no holds barred, experimentation in wielding one thing after another.
He did laugh briefly though, as he turned and saw the flicker of frost foxes nearby – nearly crouching towards the one who’d stopped for a closer peek, before it hastened off, closer to walls. “Maybe they wanted a show.”
He purposefully put more distance between them, giving ample room for what he was about to unfurl. Given that they had to be defensive procedures, the first thought would always be much like Iskra’s – a shield, a guard. He opted to go a different route, intending to amplify and test his own boundaries and limitations, by unfurling Air and Fire combined, fixing them together not unlike a miniature tornado, only this one purposefully wound around his figure. Strategically, he’d left little gaps in between puffs of wind and flame, so if Iskra was quite careful and precise, he’d be able to strive on a minor siege.
1/4 Deimos makes a Mastered Air and Fire tornado around himself, but with little gaps in between movements to give Iskra opportunities.
The advice offered is happily taken, especially when it's coming from someone as practiced as Deimos. Iskra doesn't claim to have much experience beyond general tools that he has misplaced a time or two in woods and snow, but none of those are god-touched. If he loses his mother, he can't buy her again from the next vendor down the road, so some manner of return seems wise on that alone, much less the combat blunders. Mel has suggested similar potentials, or at the very least the overall notion of summoning his armament to him with better ease than jogging around a warzone and crouching down mid-fight. "All sounds viable, I'll consider what seems to suit," he murmurs, nodding with the gratification of new and helpful knowledge.
Twisting free a smile at the divine homework Deimos is shouldering, Iskra just chuckles faintly in response, agreeing with the sentiment of never knowing what all will be required or how long it might take. His own quest has been delayed here and there, time spent erecting a tower instead of a bonfire. He doesn't mean to delve into the workings of gods though, a study he's not deeply committed to beyond understanding their magic further for his own gain. Instead he sets his thoughts on the manner of fighting, nodding along with Deimos. "Alright then, let's give it a shot." A call to arms as any, and Iskra turns to prepare as well.
It's then that he sees the frost foxes too, watching them for a moment before he glances around for Goose. Thankfully the dog is too distracted to come barreling in and chase them away. "Don't think they're gonna like it," Iskra guesses, expecting smashing bone and leaping fire is not to the tastes of the frost-loving creatures. He doesn't pay them much mind beyond that, attention rising to Deimos as he fits his shield along his arm, hands curling around the grip of the handle inside its curve. He's bound leather around it for better traction, the natural jut of rib on the tortoise carapace fitting his hand nicely, if too smooth on its own.
As flame and air leap into creation and twist around Deimos, Iskra settles into the fold of his shield better, trying to learn its edges as he bears it forward. Iskra leads his sudden charge with the ramrod of bone, aiming to time his shield-thrust through the gaps he's noticed in the spiral of tornado and heat. He steps in, full-body leaning behind the curve of bone that he directs to Deimos' shoulder. Already he can feel the wind and fire twisting around, faster than he realized, spinning back in towards him. Grinting, he tries to slide his shield up to break the contact and dance back out of the way, his retreat shoved back with additional force by the warm gale sweeping in where he'd just stood.
1/4
Tries to time it and shield bash Deimos' shoulder in the gaps of the fire tornado with the bone shield, but feels it swinging back in quickly, so steps back, pushed a touch further by the fire tornado.
He watched and waited, patient as ever, as Iskra came shooting forward. With such a bold and daring display, Deimos half-figured by sheer will alone, the Abandoned would be notching something against his shoulder; but the magic seemed to be the biggest deterrent. Within half a moment the calculations didn’t go, apparently, quite according to plan, and the man backed off.
Opting to alternate instead of make things more difficult, he added a third layer to the incantations. Continuing to utilize the Mastered Air and Fire in their tornado abyss, he purposefully added some of the rocks, calling forth to his Earth enchantments. Therein, the stones rose amidst the force of movement and motion, granting Iskra another option as they drew into the force around him. “If you cannot get to me, see if you can time it so you can hit at the rocks.”
--
2/4 Deimos keeps using his Mastered Air and Fire in the tornado shielding him, but adds Mastered Earth so Iskra can have some rocks to hit if he can’t get to Deimos.
Wind tugs at the edges of his clothes, and heat washes and wanes across him in flares of light. The surrounding frost watches in the idle patience of crystals and cold, yielding no answers, only the glint of the Longheat sun overhead. Iskra’s jaw clenches beneath the layer of his beard as he leans into thought rather than the usual rash and violent approach he takes to battle.
He finds himself aching to pull on his magic, the hum of it like a serpent gliding through him, warm with the promise of destruction (however much a lie that’d be against the likes of Deimos). It goads where it slithers behind his thoughts, but the weight of the bone in his hand is more solid than that. This is not just about getting to Deimos, this is about harmonizing with his shield,and for now he wants to try that dry.
His attention lifts as earth adds to the continual whirlwind of elements. A new thing to account for, Deimos’ defense climbing, but also an opportunity as the Sword points out. Iskra is used to carving, not ramming, but Gaucho is affording him new pathways to consider, and he’s not opposed to learning their routes either. Nodding in response, Iskra again searches for timing, dodging the whirling fire that keeps Deimos safe, then runs forth with his shield in the lead. He drives his momentum into the rock with a shout, bracing for the rattle of impact up his arm as his strength and force of motion shoves the stone towards Deimos, turning the dog on its master.
2/4 Iskra times it to avoid Deimos’ fire then uses his shield to ram one of the rocks towards Deimos.
These were the moments that were necessary; should anyone ever have to face war and battle. Opportunities to weigh out potentials, to think, to calculate, to devise, instead of driven by impulse or frenzy. The latter often got others killed. But herein, muscle memory and calculations could be obtained, practiced, versed, so if the opportunity of vehemence and violence that mattered ever came up, the individuals had already stepped into those lines before. While not everything could be the same, there were always plausible scenarios – far better, far more feasible, than raging into the limelight and being obliterated within a single step.
So Deimos stoked patience and fortitude amongst his incantations – nodding as Iskra stepped forward, altered his motions. With shield in hand and leading the way, rather than his own figure, he granted himself vital protection to make a stand. With the right timing, the bony armament clipped at a rock, sending it flying towards the Sword. Rather than make any grandiose move, he simply shifted to the right, angling his shoulder downwards so it did naught more than clip his brawn and furs, and then rejoined the tornado adornments on the other side, whipped back into place. “Good,” he commended, then began to alter the course again.
Keeping and maintaining the airy flow of fire and earth, he no longer used a predictable, revolving track. It maneuvered around him on numerous paces – intentionally slowed down, or then blindingly swift, currents of hot embers and stone flickering through. Some pebbles and portions of soil maneuvered up and down or side to side, while granting Iskra the ability to still strive, he’d had to ponder over the particulars once more.
3/4 Deimos makes his fire, earth, and air combination more difficult to predict.
A confident grin streaks across his face as he leaps back, avoiding the newest portion of the swirling defense around Deimos. His brief victory would not grant him immunity to the rest of the oncoming vortex, so Iskra is required to rush in and out, a game of tag dressed up as battle. The successful connection with the stone, even though it did not land on Deimos, is a reassurance that there is something possible here.
From his position of retreat, he can cleanly see the entire range of the whirlwind of elements and how they begin to shift. The pattern he’d just come to recognize alters, then morphs again, spinning onward without something he can track fast enough. ”You always know how to keep me on my toes!” he calls out to Deimos with an undercurrent of amusement, though it fades to concentration and consideration. Iskra runs forward again, this time angling in at the approach of the vortex, his shield again target a stone while his fire rises like it’s own wall and protective barrier, meant to alter the flow of Deimos’ as a safety net while Iskra works himself out of the shifting pathway.
3/4 Iskra runs in at an angle and uses his shield on a stone again, but uses his fire magic to make a wall between him and the vortex until he can back away.
Fire Manipulation (Abandoned/Hybrid): Can create and control flames. Must be within a 30ft radius.
Type: Dark | Rank: Mastered | Cost: Action
“That is the point,” he assured from behind the whirlwind and tornado of elements, granting a juvenile grin and the wry wrinkle to his nose. Watching to see how Iskra intended to orchestrate the next maneuver, he kept the incantations twisting, collapsing, revolving, an unpredictable bedlam of force, trial, and error.
His brow arched as the Abandoned rushed forward, angling his shield towards the alternating, tangible fortress. Deimos was half-tempted to snag back at Iskra’s fire just to be obnoxious, but permitted the access if it was helping to stoke and finesse the other man’s attempts. And while he’d carefully targeted a stone, the rock ricocheted and rallied directly back at him in the funnel of air. Perhaps that was why the shield was a necessity after all; the plink against the bone was audible. Thereafter, it rejoined its brethren, consumed by the winds again. “Better.” He announced, before amplifying it once more.
Deimos shifted the elements once more – amplifying the rocks and stones into wider targets, but heavier too, much more difficult to be moved by fortune and precision alone. He opted to embed some with embers, hot and incendiary to the touch too; for fun.
--
4/4 Deimos keeps using the combined elements but makes the rocks bigger/heavier, and now some come with fire on the inside/outside.
Essentially facing the Avatar, but a much more stoic and hardened one, Iskra's features only widen as the fortress of elements increases. Deimos' mastery over so many different abilities and types of magic makes him formidable through variety alone, and Iskra has perhaps never felt the true width of their talents until this very moment. He's known it, to be sure, but this brings it home in full, because any of his magic Deimos can thwart, and Iskra cannot be said to be capable of the same. In this moment, his shield feels a bit insufficient.
"I thought the best defense was a good offense?" he calls out, lifting a hand to his forehead to regard the increased rocks without the sun glaring so wickedly off the snow and ice. That isn't necessarily to say that he wants Deimos to attack him, it's more a joke to lighten the oh fuck of trying to break through the whirling death.
Iskra opts for something creative this time. Think outside the box, right? Or in this case murder tornado. He throws his shield down near the fringe of the elements, then steps back. He glances up and down, judging time and distance, then runs forward and leaps knees down onto the inner curve of the shield. His momentum jettisons him forward on this makeshift sled, fire magic snaking across the snow before him to make it a slicker ice, sending him sliding forward and under one of the rocks. The speed carries him past the arcs of fire and wind, and very much without control now he is aimed to take out Deimos' legs.
4/4
Iskra uses his shield like a sled to break through the defenses and ram into Deimos' legs
He could hand it to Iskra; some individuals weren’t going to settle for something feasible, practical, or pragmatic, intending to go into full creative tactics. While one could always give dole out commendations for the effort, sometimes the amount of impulse that went into the notions often made his head tilt in bewilderment and confusion. “I think it can go either way,” Deimos noted in return, before the whole array of actions took place. “Unless you would prefer me to alter course…,” he granted with a grin, a tease, of course; he had no intentions of doing so.
A shield sled was certainly something he hadn’t utilized before, and he blinked momentarily to see it come to fruition (and how they might try some variation of shield surfing down some winter hills if they ever got an opportunity).
So as Iskra slid, Deimos simply sidestepped out of the way, lifting his fire-embedded tornado upwards so the Abandoned didn’t run the risk of colliding with its opposing side, and turned to watch as the other kept sliding along the Fangs grounds. “Intriguing take,” he mustered, obliging the Abandoned.
