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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!
If you live your life slowly, you live only half life;
As the sun moves to set, Nova joins up with the others. She hops off Custard and grabs at the saddle to unburden him, rambling to the others about how the horse almost threw her off today. Her annoyance is buried in chiming laughter and glittering movements.
But Colt's call interrupts her, the new mission making her eyes shine bright. "Ooh! Fun!" She waves to the others, letting them finish off with Custard as she trades skin for fur. Silent paws prance around camp, her tail flicking playfully behind as she enjoys the feel of strong muscles and sharp fangs. Claws dig into the dirt, a silent threat to any who might think of interfering with their livestock, ears twitching to hear anything out of the ordinary.
Time passes with no incidents, and the travel slowly starts to catch up with her. When Marcus comes to relieve her, she offers a purr of appreciation, brushing against him as she moves past. Happy to provide her intimidating assistance while she sleeps, Nova curls up in her shift by the fire, luminous rainbow rosettes and inky black fur rippling in the darkness as her breathing slows and dreams find her.
Nova keeps watch and sleeps in her tide jaguar shift.
Nova
if you live your life fast, you live five lives or ten lives or fifteen lives!
Relief flooded the young Olson when it was time for them to make camp. He was ready to be out of the saddle, even though Taco had settled well into her job. Less pushy but no less alert, he was grateful the mare knew what her work entailed, but more grateful to take a break.
Helping get the horses tied on their high lines and the camp set up, Marcus kept idle chat as he worked but he couldn’t help the way his head would swivel instinctively towards the cows and then up and around all of them. When Colt gave her orders he took them willingly, knowing he needed to get some sleep right away if he was to take the middle watch.
When it was time, Marcus made his way out with his knife in his belt, and an alertness trained into him from many hunts on the tundra. ”Anything interesting?” he asked Nova when he approached.
Marcus helps set up camp, rests, the. Takes his watch
I had a vision last night Horses on the granite plains That sound of freedom stampeding Why can't I feel the same?
The camp unfolds into its usual arrangement, the chatter no less than usual, although the weariness is becoming more apparent as the days creep higher in number. This might be a lifestyle she enjoys, and her hands, but she is more grateful than she's good at saying to the Marin and the Olson that have joined her crew. The reward waiting for them at the end of the trip should be worth it, and she hopes to some small degree that they're enjoying this snapshot of ranching. Admittedly her mind is too focused on all the details and the planning for most of this to settle at the forefront of her attention, and as is ever her way, she will surely consider it when it's a bit too late. Too accustomed to everyone around her working hard and choosing this life, the thread of it braided so wholly into her every day, she doesn't always consider the weight of the ask she puts on others.
Creeping into sleep earlier than the start of the night again, she tries to get as much sleep as she can before rousing for her shift at watch. There's no escaping the deep indigo and light-flecked canvas above her now, and it's an inevitability of facing it that she knew she'd have to combat some day. Placing her hat on her head like a shield, she keeps the brim low and angled, gaze low on the ground and she stretches and moves the stiffness out of her. "Go get some more shut eye," she murmurs to Marcus as she approaches, a steaming cup of coffee in hand. "Sorry you got the shit end of the stick with the middle of the night watch, we'll rotate it the next other nights so we're all miserable equally," she reassures him with a faint smile.
Keeping her gaze downcast from the horizon, only peeking up to the borders of the sky and the ground to watch the cows every so often, she smokes away the evening into the dawn. She chats with the hand while she has him, but eventually he retreats back to bed for more broken rest. It's just her for the last quiet stretch, and in silence she waits for the world to wake up, sighing low and long as she shifts beneath the unbearable weight of the night.
A nice pile of unrest and thought surrounds her in the shape of broken bits of grass. She'd shredded it as a distraction, her fingers stained green from it, but she leaves the rest to the cows as the camp stirs to life. Mikey rises to begin breakfast, and she grabs for the toast an the bacon with less appetite than usual before moving on to pack up the horses and the tents alongside everyone else. "Nice job overnight everyone, herd's intact and the day's waitin'. Might need extra coffee, but soon as everyone's ready let's head out!"
Everyone did their night shifts well! Help break down camp and mount up to ride out.
I've been sipping on a poison Even on the days I taste it Run into the same wall All because I just can't face it
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.
The night had been long and quiet with hours of listening to the soft shift of bodies, the low rumble of cattle settling, and the distant chorus of insects and wind. By the time dawn began to thin the dark, Marcus’ eyes burned and his shoulders felt heavy with it, so he was relieved to pass the torch to Colt. Nothing had gone wrong. The herd was still whole. ”Thanks.” he said simply before he yawned and headed back to finish the night on his bedroll.
Early the next morning, he moved through the gray light to help break camp. Coffee was a small mercy, warming his hands and throat, and he lingered over it only a moment before setting to brushing Taco down and saddle her up.
Marcus mounted. The ache in his bones was deeper today, the kind that sank in and stayed, but he didn’t resent it. He took up his place along the flank, watching for any cow that might drift, any calf that lagged behind. Another day, another stretch of land to cross. He breathed it in, fatigue and all, and rode on with the herd, even as the heat seeped into his bones.
If you live your life slowly, you live only half life;
Marcus's voice cuts through the dark as she leaves her post, a welcome sign of her impending sleep. Unaware that he's a hybrid, she responds with a shake of her feline head, ear twitching to confirm the lack of excitement before she finds her warm place by the fire and find rest until the morning.
When she blinks open to breaking dawn, Nova yawns so wide that her pink tongue and thick fangs flash bright. She stretches out her paws, lean and corded muscle rippling under her fur in a line towards the tail that lifts high. Claws dig into the ashen dirt, pulling her body tight before releasing it in a satisfied grumble.
Straightening, she shifts and casts those around her sharp grin. "Morning!" Nova bounces to Mikey for a cup of coffee, giggling as she inhales the caffeine. "Thanks!" Ready to float and skip through the fields for the rest of the day (and annoy everyone around her with chaotic levels of caffeinated energy), she joins in the efforts to prepare Custard for the ride then mounts for the travel ahead.
Nova gets a coffee fix and hops on Custard!
Nova
if you live your life fast, you live five lives or ten lives or fifteen lives!
I had a vision last night Horses on the granite plains That sound of freedom stampeding Why can't I feel the same?
The camp folds away, packed onto horseback again and tucked around leather and legs. It’s efficient, a process that has served them well and is habit for the Deadiron gang. Nova and Marcus have fallen into the pattern of the work with ease, each of them already picking up tasks without being asked, and attending to their horses with a proof of the bond that builds over time in the saddle. Colt doesn’t say anything, but a small smile dips in, pleased to see the shine of her favorite things glinting off others.
The riding with the herd is a touch slower, requiring a few times to break off and round up stragglers, or redirect a stubborn lead. The terrain is mostly kind, but dreambirds wheel overhead and some terrible rumble shakes the ground, a reminder that golems inhabit this region, though they never see one.
Days and nights pass in a routine blur, and with an extra day added coming back, they finally crest a hill and Deadiron’s front ends and waiting pens greet them like a sore sight. The hands whoop out with excitement, and even Colt can’t deny the flare of relief at seeing home. The work isn’t done yet though.
”EASE UP!” Colt calls out to the group, still in a fanned out position. ”JESSE, HANK, GET TO THE FRONT AND OPEN UP THE PEN!” She cups her hands around her mouth to get the directions out across the group. ”EVERYONE ELSE, PUSH THE HERD IN, SLOW AND STEADY.” It’s a bottleneck situation, but once the cows are penned and out of the pasture, they can really get into sorting them and doling out the last jobs this day will see, a promise of a tired, good night’s rest in a bed the carrot at the end of this stick.
Several days and nights later, the herd has been driven back home. Get the cows in the pen now.
Marcus Taco is going to lunge and bite a cow, causing one to flush out and need to be chased after.
Nova one cow is going to challenge you and Custard, requiring you to really drive after it and might need to get creative or catch some horns
Colt Biscuit gets bit by a horse fly and loses her shit
I've been sipping on a poison Even on the days I taste it Run into the same wall All because I just can't face it
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 you live your life slowly, you live only half life;
Days pass and Nova begins to lose her interest in the work. It's days after days after days of nothing but riding, and she's more than a little tempted to fly away to escape the boring monotony of it all. Her butt hurts and though she entertains herself with magic and conversations with Custard, it's hard to stay the path. Only the prospect of an end keeps her going, and when Colt calls for the last push, Nova might be a littler more than eager.
On the edge of her patience (which she has very little to begin with), the cow who stands its ground against her is in for a treat. Mouth, jaw, and vocals shift, widening her features to something more animal than human. She rushes Custard forward as a pitching growl rips from her, daring the cow to challenge her again, to force her hand, to give her something interesting to do after too many stagnant days.
Nova partially shifts to her tide jaguar and growls to scare the cow into joining the others.
Nova
if you live your life fast, you live five lives or ten lives or fifteen lives!
The sight of the pens ahead sent a ripple of energy through the line, and Marcus worked to keep Taco steady as they began to funnel the herd toward the narrowing mouth of the corral. He focused on easing pressure the way Colt had taught them. The cows bunched, hooves churning the earth, lowing as the space tightened and some calves slipped through open spaces between legs and away from their mothers.
Then, Taco’s ears pinned. Marcus felt it the instant her focus sharpened into something predatory, her neck coiling beneath the reins. He sucked in a breathe, tightening his reins and lowering his hand, but the surge of bodies in front of them and the tension of the bottleneck was too much. A cow balked, shouldering sideways, and Taco lunged. Her teeth flashed, catching at hide. The startled bellow that followed was sharp and loud, and the cow broke from the line in a burst of dust and fear, bolting away from the pens and the press of bodies.
"Shit!" Marcus hissed, already reacting. He wheeled Taco hard, and the paint gave a small crow hop in protest. Swweat stung his eyes, and he ground his teeth togheter. "Sorry!" He called out, looking up and around for what surely would be a good reprimand.
Taco BITES and Marcus steers her head awway from the cows.
I had a vision last night Horses on the granite plains That sound of freedom stampeding Why can't I feel the same?
Nova's efforts definitely startle the cow back into line, but Custard also jolts beneath her, shying from the sudden noise and frightful rumble that's above him. She'll have to hang on and soothe him to get him settled back under her, and it's only the weariness of so much riding that keeps him from reacting bigger than this. Marcus meanwhile loses one of the cows as Taco lunges, and though his control keeps the mare from flushing any more out of line, Hank has to quickly cut off the fleeing escapee and push the animal back to the group. No shouting comes though, everyone too focused on the task of settling the herd in and the sudden pressure of it bound to leak out here or there.
Colt is mid-shout at Jesse, asking him to ride around and rally the rest of the hands at the ranch to get this operation fully underway when Biscuit suddenly squeals and jerks beneath her. Colt has just enough time to grab for her horn, muscle memory fighting instinct as she keeps her spurs out of the mare's side while also trying to keep her seat. She sits deeper on her back pockets, hips flowing with the buckskin that moves like water beneath her, just as graceful and powerful as the sea. The neck rolls, head snaking out then tossing as rear hooves fly at unseen foes. Colt stays on and pulls one rein short, hauling the mare's nose around to her shoulder and away from dirt of sky. "Whoa!" she commands, twisting around in her seat as the mare finally slows, her tail lashing behind her. Colt catches sight of the red mark on the buckskin flank, evidence of a pest that'd come in to mark her. Keeping her eyes peeled for the return of the fly, Colt eases up on Biscuit, and they rejoin the flow.
In time the cattle all get pushed into the corral, and everyone can pass back through to the place they began. The pack horses get handed over and few can be dismounted, the work ahead for most being with their own hands and feet now, and the horses weary enough to deserve a good rest. "Almost done everyone, great job wranglin', we didn't lose anyone on the trails. Now, we gotta split the calves and the cows - so a few of you stay in the pen to push the herd up, and someone work the gates on foot to let calves pass this way into the arena for work, and the cows to pass that way through the chute into the next pasture over. In the arena is where everyone else will be, on foot. Someone to grab the head, another for the tails and drop the calves as they come in and pin 'em down. Then someone needs to come in with the vaccines ready, someone else with the brand, and if it's a bull calf, someone else with a knife and iodine." She nods, and everyone should claim their role and get to work.
Good job, cows and calves are all penned! Now pick your job and begin:
1. Sorting the calves from the cows by only letting certain ones through certain gates at set times - on horse or on foot
2. Downing and holding the calves on the ground - on foot
3. Doing one of the tasks (medicate, brand, and for the bull calves also castrate) - on foot
I've been sipping on a poison Even on the days I taste it Run into the same wall All because I just can't face it
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 you live your life slowly, you live only half life;
The cow quickly balks, moving smartly in place with a haste that has pride flooding her chest. But the sensation is smothered by the panic of her mount, his body electrifying with a sudden movement that nearly sends her sprawling. Her features slip back to normal, grip tightening on the reins to hold herself upright. "It's just me Custard! Calm down!" Annoyance and exasperation color her tone as she settles him, huffing out a warm breath to turn him back on track.
Nova joins the others around the pens, sitting back in her saddles as Colt lists out the tasks to be done. Her magic would probably be enough to hold down the restless calves, but she doesn't love the idea of getting sweaty and dirty wrangling them; and she doesn't know the first thing about medications - even if lighting stuff on fire and chopping balls off sounds pretty fun. So she claims the sorting, guiding Custard into the pens like a performer taking the stage.
Feeling like the conductor of chaos, Nova throws her hands out, magic coiling through the space. Gusts of glittering wind split herds, pushing apart cows and calves then opening gates to separate them. It's gentle, but forceful in a manner that recommends the creatures listen to her, the power painting the space in colors that make her smile, hair flicking wildly around her features.
Nova helps to sort the cows from the calves!
Nova
if you live your life fast, you live five lives or ten lives or fifteen lives!
Marcus let out the breath he’d been holding as the last of the cattle funneled into the corral, shoulders finally easing when the gates thudded shut and the press of bodies settled into contained noise and motion. Happy to not face any harsh reprimand for Taco's behavior (which, as he thought of it, was probably because they all knew the mare well enough to guess that would happen anyway), he swung down from his saddle and handed Taco off to the hand who offered to take her. He gave Taco a pad on her thick neck before walking away, murmuring a quiet apology and thanks both. His legs felt like they belonged to someone else after so many days in the saddle, so he welcomed the solid ground under his boots and was ready to help from this vantage point.
Colt’s instructions rolled out crisp and with a deep expertise that the Olson could see. Marcus listened, cerulean eyes following the flow she described: calves to the arena, cows to the chute, hands to their places. When she mentioned the knives and iodine, his chin lifted towards her. He stepped closer, raising his voice just enough to be heard over the lowing and clatter of hooves. “I can help with the bull calves,” Marcus offered. “With the cutting, I mean.” There was a brief pause, then he added with a firm nod, “And I can heal them after. Close things up, take the worst of the sting out.”
to him, a boy trained and raised to hunt, it felt important to say it out loud -- to make it clear he wasn’t just volunteering for the blade, but for what came after too. Healing had always been easier for him than harm, a balance he clung to whenever he could. When ready, Marcus rolled his shoulders, pushing past the lingering fatigue, and moved toward the arena gate to take his place with the sterilzed knife they gave him in hand.
Marcus chooses to help castrate and suggests he can use his magic to help.
Healing (Abandoned/Hybrid): Heals minor wounds at basic level.
Type: Light | Rank: Basic | Cost: Action
I had a vision last night Horses on the granite plains That sound of freedom stampeding Why can't I feel the same?
Everyone edges into their different groups and roles with only a quiet pause for consideration, some of her hands grumbling over ones that were left over while others shrugged without care. A few had picked what they knew best, while some of the fresher ones volunteered for something new. It'd be a good mixture of experience and green, and so the knowledge inevitably gets passed along, handed down with practice and guidance just as her younger days had been. "Healing would be great, thank you Marcus ," Colt murmurs before slipping into her role too.
Jim joins Nova with the sorting, and as she begins and her magic kicks things up easier than just the man running around with hands and feet, he grins happily over at her. However, he does caution her against getting too carried away, and the cattle usually need the visual marker of a body in their way to not challenge the fences and keep trying to barrel through them or jump them even with the gate closed. He tells her she should work the gate open and shut, her magic good for quick timing, and he'll spook away the herd if it presses in too close to try and rush the gate. Another hand is on a horse still with them, applying slight pressure as needed to get the herd moving.
As the cows and calves begin to be sorted, the cows are run down one side and injected as they go to keep them healthy too. Some other hands are in charge of that, while Colt and Jesse work on wrangling the calves to the ground. Chap fringe flies and boots scuff and skid in dirt and shit alike as Jesse grabs their heads and turns opposite their shoulders and momentum, dropping them easily most of the time. Colt is there to snag their tails and add the last bit of oomph to knock them down, and then she and Jesse descend with their knees and body weight to pin the bawling calf down.
This is where Wyatt comes in with a fire-warmed brand, pressing it to their flanks, and Mikey jabs the vaccine into their shoulders. If it's got balls, Wyatt calls out for Marcus , watchful at the youth's first attempt or two, and pointing out exactly where to grab and slice. It's a fairly clean ordeal, only requiring the sharp blade and a steady hand to remove it all in one clean sweep. "Save the testicles in a clean bowl," Colt reminds the younger man. "We're gonna cook 'em up and eat 'em when we're all done with the herd. No sense in wasting the meat."
Last round! Complete your tasks and then Colt will close out the thread with her last post with a dinner and payment.
I've been sipping on a poison Even on the days I taste it Run into the same wall All because I just can't face it
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 you live your life slowly, you live only half life;
Wind flows and cattle moves, becoming a twisting torrent of orchestrated insanity Nova is happy to coordinate. She weaves and guides her hands, the magic sparkling like threads of fate between them all, insistent on the destiny laid before them. Occasionally, her tongue will peek out, concentration settling on her features as she encounters an obstacle, but she quickly moves past with more capabilities and determination.
Jim's advice doesn't quite make sense to her, but Nova shrugs her shoulders, letting him point out where further 'encouragement' might be needed. Rather than push Custard into place themselves, she sits comfortably in her saddle while a convincing image of her or one of the hands ripples into existence, an imposing figure to dissuade any eager cows from jumping the partitions. However, the use of abilities is taxing, her flourish slowly fading as time drags on, the smile beginning to strain. By the time they're done, her stomach will be growling, the need for food and energy eating further into her mood.
Nova continues to separate the cows and calves, adding illusions where necessary.
Nova
if you live your life fast, you live five lives or ten lives or fifteen lives!
Marcus found his place in the line of work, hands steady and getting steadier with each bull calf that gave him experience. One calf at a time was guided down, flanks secured with practiced care, the process efficient and calm, the animals more confused than frightened. After each castration he placed his palm on the animal's back leg, letting his magic pulse down to sew together sinew and skin. The calf would still almost immediately, breath even, body relaxing as if the whole thing were little more than an odd interruption in its morning, before being let back up by the ground crew.
Wiping sweat from his brow and squinting in the sweltering heat, Marcus blinked. "The… what?" he asked, almost appaled. His expression twisted before he could stop it. He glanced down at the testicles still in his hand and felt his stomach roll. The idea that those would end up on a plate did not sound appetiing, but not wishing to gain any ill-will this far into his work, he did as he was told.
Marcus works and keeps the balls against his better judgement.
