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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 devil's always on my heels, but I keep him on his toes It might be the highway, and it might be these songs It might be the whiskey or the smoke inside these lungs
This early, the fishermen have already left, and the tourists are still sleeping. The dock’s quiet, only a few market stalls starting to stir and wake with the day. The smear of dawnlight that breaks in over ridges is cool this late in the season, muted with clouds and a distance that never quite seems to close even as the day drags on. She finds herself tilting her head back to trace the shape of the weather, bracing for sign of a storm, sign of fire on its heels. It takes her a moment to remember she doesn’t need to anymore.
Her gaze drifts down instead to the line of the wood planks that reach out into the coastline. She’s sitting on the edge of the pier closest to the water, a purposefully chosen distance from most everyone else. Using one of the pilings for a back rest, one foot dangles lazily over the dock edge, the other tucked closer to her chest. It’s half for comfort, half to trap a bit more warmth, especially now that the wind kicks up off the water and brings in a richer chill than where the bluffs cut it back down to size. Jack will know where, she left a final note for the meeting point once she got here and saw the Ark nearby, paying a kid to send the message on.
Ain't no way around it, one day I'm gonna die If something's gonna kill me Might as well be what makes me feel alive
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 only counts as leavin' King's End if you actually leave, y'know." Jack's voice sounds at Colt's shoulder, and the Captain steps up to stand beside where she sits as if this meeting is nothing more than serendipitous. He doesn't glance down at her, instead lifting his cup of black coffee to his lips, collar turned high against the chill of a sea still shaking off the last dregs of moonlight. "Rumours spread," he supplies as the reason behind his knowing of her departure.
Jack might have been awake for hours or he might have just peeled himself out his bunk for this rendezvous - he'd likely look the same regardless. A little rough around the edges, prepared for anything from whimsy to murder, and already more or less done with everyone's bullshit. Another sip of his coffee to warm his throat and chest and he glances down to Colt at last. "You asked, I answered," he continues, referring to her letter. So what is it?
no more than I was or than I want to be when you fall on me like night, I wanna kill the lights
The devil's always on my heels, but I keep him on his toes It might be the highway, and it might be these songs It might be the whiskey or the smoke inside these lungs
Her hat tilts, the two feathers she’s stuck in it humming against the breeze, while she lights her cigarette in the cup of her body and hand. The first hit lands like air she didn’t know she was starved for, and her chest holds it, meaning for long and tight, but the sudden slide of Jack's voice releases the smoke on a cough that jolts sudden and forceful. It soon enough peters out into a laugh, near breathless but felt. "That they do," she says after a sip of air, angling her head up to better see the Captain. "Guess I got homesick," she says as glances back down the dock to the hills ahead. Her tone is too flat to be honest, no warmth or nostalgia braided into the reason she offers, not when the reminder of what she'd just hauled up and left still sits so fresh.
Strange times to consider Jack Barclay safer footing than what's in Torchline, but she at least appreciates always knowing where she stands with him. If he doesn't like something, he doesn't dress it up so pretty as a birthday party just to tell her. "What's your experience with Dream Cacti?" she asks him, flicking her ash over the water before passing the filter to her lips to hold. She reaches into her boot and pulls out a small pack of what she'd harvested recently, tossing it to him. "Hak Etme could produce a lot more of it if we could establish better trade routes for it," she eases the idea around another draught of nicotine.
Ain't no way around it, one day I'm gonna die If something's gonna kill me Might as well be what makes me feel alive
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.
"No one asked to you to leave," Jack points out, half cradling his coffee against the chill breeze rolling in off the waves, as if to keep its warmth for as long as possible while he's drinking it. Not that it's any of his business, and not that he's remotely interested in getting her to reconsider - not given who just came back to King's End with him. "Then again, you gotta leave home to get sick for it." Shrugging, he tilts his head a fraction and waits for her to spit it out.
His assumption of what she might want with him rests squarely between business and insanity, and when she mentions dream cacti, it turns out the truth is right down the middle of the road. "Experienced enough. Their spines make a helluva drug," he says.
The packet comes lancing up towards him with a graceful flick of Colt's wrist, Jack snatching it out of the air and holding it up to the morning light. It's only small, what he holds, but its potency isn't something he's willing to downplay, and he huffs out a soft laugh. "You wanna establish trade routes with me?"
no more than I was or than I want to be when you fall on me like night, I wanna kill the lights
Overhead the sky begins to moan and rumble, a cacophony of voices that seems to echo right through your bones. The choir of screams grows loud and unruly, rising to a fever pitch without end...
And then nothing. Gone in the purring of a distant storm, vanished as if the thunder existed only in your mind. The silence it leaves is almost worse.
You have encountered one of the Scream Rain SE serendipities! You may use this to complete requirement 1. of the seasonal event. Please note: this serendipity CANNOT be used for levelling purposes.
04-13-2026, 11:38 AM (This post was last modified: 04-13-2026, 11:42 AM by Colt.)
Colt
The devil's always on my heels, but I keep him on his toes It might be the highway, and it might be these songs It might be the whiskey or the smoke inside these lungs
She might've made the argument that Tanau kind of did, ask her to leave, that is. It'd be in a roundabout way, one which feels adjacent to reading futures in tea leaves. That's not really her style to believe in signs, whatever little superstitions she might follow here and there, so she doesn't speak to it. All it'd do is shift the blame, and she knows that sits squarely on her shoulders. There's no deeper meaning to her loss. It's an aspect of this region's annual fires, a harder year than most with an overzealous deity, and a belief that she didn't need to prepare more than she already had.
"When you got nothin', not much reason to stay. Nothing to lose then, so might as well try for something new." A shoulder shrugs away all the deeper thoughts than those that she'd poured into the decision, and maybe there's a little bit of running involved, and whether it's to something or from something doesn't much change the fact her feet are moving. "Won't be here long," she says simply, squinting down the familiar lane of market ships and people. "Just restocking some things."
It doesn't surprise her that he's no stranger to the plant, and she nods at his take on it. She'd had her first true run-in not so long ago, harvesting that very batch. "That's right," she confirms, tipping her head just so to catch him around the shield of her hat brim, the greying morning lightening more and more. "Not much trade connected with Hak Etme, yet." One of the first things she's been chipping away at, for a lot of reasons, but it'd keep her from sailing all over fucking Caido and getting green around the gills for it. "Skyport's almost done. Improved sailing port's next, so that'll open up new lines." She takes another drag from her cigarette, the end glowing bright for a moment before she pulls it away sharply as the sky suddenly peals out that horrible sound of shrieking that's been going on all season. She frowns up at it, trying to gauge if they're about to get dumped on, but as the forked glow fades away and the anguished cries die out, she's content enough with how distant it sounds. Glancing back up to Jack from the offending sky, she continues. "That won't mean shit unless there's something worth trading, and dream cacti ain't exactly what most people want to establish flowing into their regions, however much the people might want it."
Ain't no way around it, one day I'm gonna die If something's gonna kill me Might as well be what makes me feel alive
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.
"That's the spirit," Jack drawls, smirking around another sip of coffee. "You're like to be as homesick here as anywhere else if you ain't got anythin' left here." He shrugs - the context and the details don't matter to him nearly as much as what she's offering now, and the Captain spends a few more moments examining the cactus spines in the packet before, surprising though it might be to Colt, he hands them back to her.
"What's in it for me?" he asks. "I ain't sayin' no, 'fore you give yourself wrinkles. I just ain't sayin' yes yet either. You wanna, what, dig up a region for yourself in the fuckin' desert, an' your first route for trade is black market shit?" He snorts out a laugh. "The balls on you." Jack gestures to the pack of cactus spines again. "You could do a lot more with that than just ship it out raw, by the by. But that's the only free advice you're gettin' from me."
And not just because he's a sharp businessman - the fucking sky decides that's the end of his train of thought, Jack scowling sharply up at the shrieking clouds and their fading cacophony as if waiting for an encore.
no more than I was or than I want to be when you fall on me like night, I wanna kill the lights
The devil's always on my heels, but I keep him on his toes It might be the highway, and it might be these songs It might be the whiskey or the smoke inside these lungs
She doesn't delay in reaching for the package as he extends it back. Although it'd been for him to keep, she won't deny having the product returned back to her, and she won't be waving it all around in the open either. Deftly she slides it back between leather and denim. Jack's as shrewd as she'd expect about the matter, and it sets her grin deeper into one side of her face, more than pleased to hear him ask for his own benefits. It means he's considering it, even before he says as much, and that he's weighing all the angles and details. Much better than someone who just stumbles into this blind and dumb. "You'd get a sizable cut from the sales," she says easily, knowing the work to trade it would be what's harder, especially to manage it safely. She'd been handling all the growing and the harvesting back in the desert, which is no cake walk either, but doesn't carry the same risks.
"Or are you in the market for something else?" He brows lift pointedly as she looks at him, because after wagering a few deals now for the desert, she's come to find there's different strokes for different blokes. She's always been partial to money, but perhaps Jack is swimming in it after all this time. Never hurts to be richer, in her opinion.
There's a small smirk that curls her expression up and lightens her eyes, even with the dreary start of the day overhead. A response to his well-earned humor and the compliment he extends, and one that only lingers at his offered advice. "All the building I have in mind needs funds to happen. No sense in pussy footing around with paltry shipments like glass and salt." Though she'd be trading those too, if only to have something a bit reputable to show and hide behind should need arise. Then, seeming to contemplate just how much of her hand to divulge, Colt falls silent for a moment and gives her cigarette in-between the centaur tattoo's legs a thorough look over. Her gaze narrows a touch. For someone who doesn't trust easily, it's bitten her in the ass very recently, and that bitter sting of Flora and Sohalia's venom lingers.
Raw had not been her only intention, although that might prove more difficult now if that little birthday tiff also hindered another contact of her's. Time will tell. "There'll be more than raw in Hak Etme," she assures him, trying to keep it vague enough not to risk herself too plainly. "What we send out should invite people into our borders if they want something more." The gambling den will be a veritable host of options, a place to really get people to let loose on their coin both on and off the table with everything she'll be offering them. The world has taken from her, and she means to return the favor. "Trade routes ain't all I'm building out there."
Ain't no way around it, one day I'm gonna die If something's gonna kill me Might as well be what makes me feel alive
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.
"Obviously," Jack says of the sales, tipping back the last of his coffee before crushing the paper cup in his hand and letting a lick of fire magic start to eat away at it. He doesn't reveal any of his own hand - most would be surprised to learn he even had one at all in the matter, given that he only heard about it five minutes ago, but in the smuggling game you learn to hit the ground running.
"A sizeable cut from the sales, an' I want first dibs on shiftin' whatever comes outta Hak Etme that's more than raw," he says. That works for him as a start, anyway. "Won't be a trip I make often either," he warns, "so make that harvest count."
Brushing the ashes from his hands once the cup has all but disintegrated, Jack glances down at her with cool blue eyes, though his magic snags like a fish on a hook at the names that flicker through her mind, let alone the image she paints of a gambling den, all debauchery and blood money.
"Cactus fruit," he says suddenly, idly almost. "You should export cactus fruit as a front. Grow 'em on purpose, hide 'em among the dream cacti."
no more than I was or than I want to be when you fall on me like night, I wanna kill the lights
The devil's always on my heels, but I keep him on his toes It might be the highway, and it might be these songs It might be the whiskey or the smoke inside these lungs
Her eyes are drawn at once to the flame that conjures in his hand. She doesn't shy from it, but she watches it all the while. It isn't fear, not exactly, just a healthy respect for something she knows has an insatiable hunger and only ever pretends to be tamed. There's a time and a place for fire, and she'd not ignore its usefulness just because it tried to take everything from her. She's still here, still bending something to her will, but it's no mistake that she left a land that regularly burns on purpose now.
Glad to hear he doesn't need any weird shit to satisfy him, Colt nods at his terms, both counts. There'd be no sense in only shipping out raw, which he seems to recognize, but anything more would be limited, just bait to get people to them. "Fair 'nough," she decrees, his warning settling like sense she could easily get behind. He doesn't want to waste his time, and neither does she—not his, not hers either.
Some part of her expects him to pry, curiosity always getting people to ask shit they shouldn't. It either doesn't interest him, or he knows better, because he doesn't. Instead, he sets down a new word, enough out of the blue at first that Colt just blinks back. Before she has to worry too long about connecting dots, one of her first being that perhaps this is a new term and he's demanding cactus fruit as payment, perhaps a favorite of his, he makes the tracks for his train of thought evident. "Makes a nice drink," she murmurs, casual as can be, although there's a sharpness to her mouth that undermines it, proof she's heard him and is fully considering it. She'll be getting people hooked on kool-aid one way or another.
"We'll be ready come mid Deepfrost," she informs him, taking a last puff of her cigarette before stubbing it out on the bottom of her boot heel. Her breath eases out with the curl of smoke, fingers still holding onto the butt, too fond of this place to discard it carelessly. She folds her knees up and makes to stand, shoving off the piling.
Ain't no way around it, one day I'm gonna die If something's gonna kill me Might as well be what makes me feel alive
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.
04-13-2026, 01:31 PM (This post was last modified: 04-13-2026, 01:44 PM by Jack.)
JACK
"Send somethin' my way when you're 'bout ready to ship out," Jack replies, already stepping back to allow Colt to slouch her way back to her feet. The ash is gone from his fingertips, stripped away by twin arcane talents of water and wind. "Don't normally make long-haul trips until the end of Deepfrost. Weather's too temperamental across the regions." Especially for a ship that can kiss the sky and the waves at will, snowstorms and sheets of ice on the sea are problems that Jack doesn't want to fight unless he has to.
Still, at least Colt will presumably be nice and toasty up in Hak Etme. "Best of luck to you an' your cactus fruit," he adds with a scoff, tugging the collar of his coat a little closer as the first fat drops of rain start to plop down onto the docks. Jack doesn't say goodbye - he simply shifts back towards the Exchange, considering their business concluded.
no more than I was or than I want to be when you fall on me like night, I wanna kill the lights
The devil's always on my heels, but I keep him on his toes It might be the highway, and it might be these songs It might be the whiskey or the smoke inside these lungs
Back on her feet, Colt smooths her shirt out, knocking one boot against the other out of habit, though no fresh dust or dirt clods are clinging to 'em. Jack's newest explanation is one she takes in equal stride as the rest, and though she'd prefer as few delays as possible, she knows there's no arguing with weather. Deepfrost is set to be the nicest season in Hak Etme, but that'd be on the land, and she trusts he knows the seas quite well. "Alright, I'll be mailing something to you end of Deepfrost then," she concludes.
Her features wring out a bit more humor at his departing remark, but she stops him with a quick, "wait. One more thing." She reaches up to her hat, tugging one of the pale feathers free, long and sleek. Just seeing it again inspires a bit of that wind-wild day, and everything that'd been taut and tangled in her loosens just a fraction as a glimmer of that happy day resurfaces. First one she's had in a while. She spins the feather a bit in her fingers, smile softening despite herself, before she drops it into a sigh and extends the feather out to Jack. "Give this to Vesper, next you see him, won't you?" She knows how important a thank you is to him, and this is as close as she can get, not knowing where to send his mail. She might be able to figure it out, but she's not really interested in picking that line up again and seeing what tugging on it will do.
As it is, she probably never should have put her hands on this feather, much less tucked the twin of 'em in her hat, but it's a little too late for shoulds. She tries to let the moment stand alone without his shadow though, and this gesture is already casting a longer one than she likes. Hell, she could have it all wrong and this never came from him, and it won't mean shit to him to receive it. She doesn't think she's that far off the mark, given how few people she's told that particular secret to, and she isn't sure which she prefers, having it wrong or having it right. "You'll see him well before I do," she reasons, which is to say, at all.
Ain't no way around it, one day I'm gonna die If something's gonna kill me Might as well be what makes me feel alive
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 stops a fraction before her wait hits the air, glancing over his shoulder with an arched brow, though he already knows what she's about to hand him. Windswept adventures and reckless joy paint the space between them, the Captain reaching back to accept the feather. It flutters in the chill rolling off the waves, and Jack regards it for a long few seconds. Then, humming something non-committal under his breath, he keeps the token with him, twirling it gently as he sets off across the dock.
He waits until he feels Colt squirm free of the net of telepathic power he casts over the world, out of range and out of sight, before the flames lick up from his fingers and eat away at the pale feather. It's gone in mere moments, and with it any chance for her to catch on Vesper's mind like a well-intentioned burr. They might be doing business and he might be safer footing, but rough humour and a bit of free criminal advice do not a bridge build.
With the feather little more than streaks of black against his fingertips, Jack continues on his way. The gathering downpour falls just shy of hitting him, leaving him dry and unbothered, and he meanders towards The Ark in a halo of rainfall and the lingering smell of ash and bitter coffee.
~FIN
no more than I was or than I want to be when you fall on me like night, I wanna kill the lights
