Crossing blades (Talon)

[Mirage]

15th of Ash, 121 AS

The sun was beginning to rise over the smaller peaks of the Astralar mountain range. The biting cold of the night was readily giving way to warmth as fog began to flow like rivers down the sides of great pillars of stone around the Circle of Wandering. The statues that stood constant vigil seemed expectant somehow as if they gripped their weapons tighter and leaned slightly forward toward the figure at their center.

He was a well-dressed Orkhan man, wearing a fitted suit of the sort found in the southern regions past the Imperium. His long dark hair was tied in a warriors knot that fell between his shoulder blades, and two thin tusks curved over his dark, near ebony skin. He looked around the circle with hands clasped loosely behind his back. Though he did not give off an overly oppressive air, there was a faint sense of sharpness about him, like a naked blade held close to one's skin. The man was expectant as he looked back over his shoulder at the two approaching figures, but he did not smile. Around him, there was a faint nimbus of power, tightly controlled but visible to all.

[Talon]

Crossing Blades

15 Ash 121

Talon finished slipping on the gauntlet to Aoren’s hand. He helped his partner fasten it watching as the fire magic laced into it wove itself into place, joining the elemental power that suffused the Kathar’s soul. Talon stared at their hands together for a moment, suddenly hit with the gravity of the moment. He was going to meet a stranger. A stranger professed to him by a man who seemed curiously both present and far away. Talon had been touched by a power that he did not quite understand. He was being told that there were powers out there that were hunting for him, searching for him so that they could destroy him. The Calamity, a figure of myth and nightmares, was implied to be a real and terrifying force. The only reason that Talon had not been killed already.

“Hey.” Warm hands cupped his face and Talon was brought to look up into Aoren’s softly burning eyes. He watched the warm flicker of flames dance gently in those irises, unsettling to many, a source of comfort for him.

“Andrus warned me that there was much coming.” He thought back to the conversation that had taken place between himself and his most immediate past life. The mighty knight had seemed like an indomitable force that could have tackled any darkness that came his way. Yet even Andrus had fallen, fallen against a foe that Talon could not even contemplate. The man had been a Dawnmartyr, the Dawnmartyr to strike the final blow that broke the power of the Cult of Mending and ended the Graveplague. He had been a hero, one that the world did not know the name of but knew the deed of his and his fellows.

“We have faced darkness before, Talon. Together.” Talon rest his brow against Aoren’s. There was something brewing, he could feel it. Talon could not help but feel unprepared for all of it. He let out a breath, steadying and calming his nerves. There was still so much in the world that he did not know. Once, his only concern was for his homeland, for his people and the troubles they faced from the Warrens below. Now? Now he was not so sure that his life was meant to be lived forever bound to the borders of Kalzasi. The world was too big and with each passing omen, Talon was feeling as though the winds of destiny were urging him to other places. Was he being selfish for wanting to stay to protect his home? Was he being childish for feeling lost and confused and afraid of what was coming his way? For all of the power that was his to command, Talon still felt no wiser than when he had set foot in the Warrens on that fateful Frost day.

“Come.” Together the two of them took off into the air, spreading their wings and taking flight. It was a path that they had embarked upon numerous times together. The Circle being one of the few places where Talon could train to the fullest extent of his abilities without fear of breaking something or someone. When the both of them banked around the corner of a mountain cliff and beheld the great stone pillar atop which rest the circle of vigilant statues, Talon immediately felt a change in the air. It was not oppressive but it was different. It was as though the world had paused to take note of the figure that was standing there, waiting. Talon kenw then that this was the person that Arthel had told him about. The man who had suffered no defeat for over 9,000 years. Well, except one that was not worth mentioning.

Both he and Aoren landed. Talon wore only the humble gi of his training bouts. His pants tucked into cloth wraps, with but a sash and plain shoes on his feet. Somehow, he had felt it would have been wrong to wear the runeforged armor that he had spent so much time toiling over. Almost as though to have worn it to this meeting would have been an insult to the one they were meeting. Aoren was dressed similarly, the only accessory brought with him being the flame gauntlet that helped him channel his elemental powers better. As soon as his eyes landed on the figure he knew instantly that this was not a mortal.

Before him, was another god. All around them was the evidence of his divine power. Talon, who had met few whom he could consider an equal in power since the time of his ascension, felt young and small by comparison. An Orkhan man who stood with perfect posture. He radiated strength and poise. Even at an easy stance, Talon could not help but feel that this man was sharper and more deadly than the greatest of swords that he himself could forge.

Then Talon beheld the man’s eyes. A tightness welled up inside of him. Emotions he could not name flowed through him. An ancient ache rippled through Talon’s soul. The scar over his chest throbbed. His mind was suddenly filled with the sounds of that battle from long ago. Again he saw the blade plunge through his heart, he felt its cold, burning sting. He felt its bitter agony course through his body. But this time he heard a scream that was not his own. He heard a wail of utter grief and rage that carried with it the raw anger of a thousand dragons and more. Hundreds of monsters swarming this man were obliterated in an instant as that agonized cry was torn from his throat. Before the blinding white light surged forth, before he let himself fade, Talon beheld a pair of eyes that burned with the light of volcanic fires. In them was a pain so strong it threatened to break the world under the weight of its fury.

"Raxen..." Talon said aloud, feeling himself slipping, "I'm sorry."

The memory faded and Talon flexed his jaw, clenching his fists at his sides in an attempt to not be overcome with emotions so old he could not even begin to understand them.

“Raxen.” He whispered. But for the silence that hung in the air, Talon might as well have shouted his name to the mountains. For now he knew, the world had not stopped to merely take note of this god, the world was bowing before him awaiting his judgement.

"I am Justice."

[Mirage]

Raxen watched impassively as Talon and Aoren landed, slowly turning to face them fully as they came closer. His posture didn't change, and the light in his eyes seemed to glimmer at Talon's words. The orkhan stared at Talon for several long seconds, a flash of emotion passing before it was snuffed out like a candle in the wind. It could have been pain, or anger, or rage. His features hardened as he continued to look Talon over, but at last, a small smile quirked his lips.

"You always say that." The god's voice was deep and rich like a well-aged whiskey, but behind the refinement, there was something else, something bestial and ferocious that clawed at the cage that contained it. Raxen leveled his gaze on Aoren then and there was indeed a flash of anger there that was quickly controlled.

"I see the old man gave you a nimbus shroud." Raxen said, looking back at Talon, "If he had not I would have done so, which I told the old fool." Raxen shook his head and looked out over the peaks, "He's stretching himself too thin these days."

The man then lapsed into silence, his eyes thoughtful. He seemed in no hurry to continue their conversation.

[Talon]

T A L O N

He had the voice that Talon would have expected of him. Deep like the bones of the earth with the rumble of a carefully controlled fury. The timbre held an edge to it, guarded and sharp like the hint of a smirk that touched his lips. His words, however, confused Talon.

“Always say that?” It took a moment but the summary of what he was feeling managed to sort itself out in a few moments. “We have met before. Not just as Arcas but other times.”

They were vague memories on the edge of his awareness. If he meditated, he could have perhaps recalled those memories fully but this was not the time or place. He almost missed the flash of anger that ghosted across the god’s features but when he saw it, he found it troubling. What could Raxen be angry at? It seemed a silly question. In the span of nine-thousand years, there was an infinite number of things that could have aroused the Orkhan god’s anger. When Aoren stiffened slightly though, Talon looked to his bondmate and then to Raxen. He studied the mighty man.

He was built more solidly than many of the Orks that Talon had seen. While he held an air of refinement, there was a ferocity to the edge of that refinement as though the man were keeping something raw and primal in check. Talon supposed it made sense, this man was likely closer to the ancestral Orkhan said to be fashioned from dragons than he was the Orkhan of the present era. At Raxen’s words regarding Arthel, Talon nodded. He did not call upon his nimbus. He knew he did not have to.

“His light is dimming.” He remembered beholding Arthel for who he truly was. Magnificent though the old man had been, there had been a sense of twilight that clung to him and the light that shone from his soul. That said, the silence settled between the two of them. Talon did not entirely know what to say. Beside him, Aoren stood silently, his eyes never leaving the god in front of them. Finally, Talon spoke.

“Why have you come?”

[Mirage]

Raxen snorted, "He's barely an ember, but still insists on continuing his watch. I've told him I would provide him a palace to retire in, but he refuses every time."

His words were harsh but said in a way that implied a true concern underneath. Though he would never admit it, the Orkhan would be truly saddened to see the old man pass on. Arthel had been one of the best of his people, one of the best men he had known even. All guards would, eventually, have to lay down their spears, and though he may fight it Raxen knew that Arthel's watch was nearly ended.

"Why indeed." Raxen said in response to Talon's question. When he looked back toward the two men Raxen's expression was once more stoic and controlled. He looked between them, but his gaze settled on Talon, "I am here to fulfill a promise, one I have upheld with each new cycle of rebirth."

With slow, measured movements Raxen removed his fine jacket and lay it across a nearby stone. He then undid the necktie, removing it and his well-pressed buttoned shirt. These he folded neatly and lay on top of the jacket before removing his polished shoes, leaving his bare feet on stone as he rolled his broad shoulders and cracked his neck.

"From the look of you, Talon Novalys, you know who you used to be, and while you may have the same soul as Arcas, that does mean you value the same things he did." When he moved he was like a large jungle cat, muscles rippling in fluid motions under taut skin that seemed barely able to contain his strength, "We are strangers," the muscles in his cheek twitched as he said the words, "and I know nothing about you."

He stopped several arms lengths from Talon and Aoren, but Raxen had eyes only for Talon. They were of similar height, but steadily the older god was releasing more and more of his presence, almost seeming to expand with power, "Today I have come to judge you. If you refuse, I will kill you on the spot. If you accept I will allow you any weapon, magic, or aid that you wish." his eyes flicked to Aoren as he said this before returning to Talon once more, "To pass, you must make a single cut on my body. Anywhere, using any tactic you choose."

He let the challenge stand in the air before raising his bare arms out to either side, "Do you accept?"

[Talon]

T A L O N

Watching Raxen move was like watching a beast on the prowl. As he revealed more of himself, not just physically but more of his presence as well, Talon felt truly uneasy. He was not so arrogant to believe himself without equal or even to believe there were not stronger and more intelligent people than him. Lyra was living proof that there were much more intelligent beings in the world than he could even truly grasp. But to face a demigod, likely one of the most ancient and powerful alive, so openly and with such a forceful statement, Talon could not help the tension that built in his stomach.

“You must be insane if--” Talon placed a hand on Aoren’s chest. The raven winged Kathar was glaring at Raxen. The fires in his eyes seething at the threat to his bondmate. He looked at Talon. There was anger in his eyes but beneath that, there was a fear. Talon once again saw the echo of the events that transpired almost a year ago. His gaze softened.

“It is alright.” Talon turned his attention back to Raxen. “He is right. We do not know each other. At all.”

His words were flat and he pushed down the confusing memories that wanted to surface. They were not his memories. They were the echo of someone who had died long ago. If the two of them were to know one another, this was yet another test on what he felt had already been a long road. Aoren clenched his jaw. Between their bond, Talon could feel Aoren urging him not to do this. He had nothing to prove. Least of all to some stranger who had appeared out of nowhere and who was threatening him with death. Talon, on the other hand, wanted to prove something to himself. Silently, he removed his gi, baring his torso and cinching the sash around his waist. He handed the shirt to Aoren who sighed, shaking his head. The man looked to Raxen, sizing him up. Tossing Talon’s shirt over his shoulder, Aoren narrowed his eyes. He looked back to Talon giving his bondmate a nod. Spreading his wings, Aoren leapt up and drifted over to one of the nearby outcroppings of stone so that he could watch the display about to take place.

Talon stepped forward, he flexed his wings before tucking them in close. Extending a hand, the clean ringing of his pact blade manifesting into his hand announced his acceptance of the duel. He met Raxen’s gaze squarely as he adopted his stance.

“I accept.”

[Mirage]

Raxen nodded to Talon as it was a foregone conclusion. His aura pressed in, intentionally building an air of intimidation around himself as he probed at the boundaries of the younger demigod's aura. He folded his arms over his chest as he watched the exchange between bandmates, and his eyes followed Aoren as he made his way to the sidelines.

"Arthel should have told you to come prepared, to bring your best weapon and armor." the Orkhan said looking back at Talon, "So why have you exposed yourself? Why have you sent your companion to the side?"

The man's voice dipped into a growl as he uncrossed his arms, beginning a slow march toward Talon, "Do you take me for a fool, Talon Novalys, or do you think yourself my equal?"

His nimbus extended fully, the air around him distorting as the wind itself seemed to take on an edge, stinging as it brushed against the skin. In his hands, Talon's own blade trembled faintly. The mask of control lifted slightly to show the angler bubbling just beneath the surface.

[Talon]

T A L O N

Talon did not back down in the face of Raxen’s anger. He matched it with his own. He opened himself up to the flow of the Aetherium. He shed the veil of mortality and allowed his nimbus to manifest in full. The silver in his eyes became mercurial as he stared down the demigod across from him. He was afraid. He knew nothing of what it was to face a god. He knew nothing of the history that existed between Arcas and Raxen but it was clear that something was important to him. An oath that the other deity had made, a promise he continued to keep again and again. Talon only knew that he would not be ruled by his fears and that the only way forward was to believe that if nothing else, he would remain true to what he stood for.

“He did.” Talon grasped the sword in his hand. He felt strength in his grip. The stinging of the winds did not cut as sharply. The shaking in his hand steadied.

“I take you for Raxen.” He made that statement plainly. It felt like the only right thing to say. Talon clenched a fist.

His nimbus brightened. A corona of light expanded outward from him as he embraced not just his dominion over Justice but his stewardship over Light as well. He stepped further away from the bonds of mortality, letting the rivers of the Aetherium flow into his body. For the first time, faced with the reality that he was standing opposite of not a mortal but another god, Talon did not try to hide or dim the truth of what he had become. He had not realized it, but he had been going to great lengths to conceal himself. Between suppressing his own aura, to being mindful of how his own mind brushed against others, to working carefully to not cause other mages or supernaturally sensitive beings pain by his mere presence, Talon had been denying himself the fullness of what he actually was.

The world outside of the Circle of Wandering grew dimmer as it seemed all Light in their area was determined to find its way to Talon. The rays of the sun stretched across the ebony stone of the Astralar Mountains and alighted upon him, bathing his torso in light, soaking into the silver of his wings. He looked to Raxen, not as Talon Novalys but not as Arcas either. He looked upon the Orkhan god as a demigod who was somewhere between the two, still finding his way, still rising into his power, but a vision of what he might one day become.

“I am my weapon. My weapon is me.” He narrowed his eyes. A feeling rose from within him. “You taught me that.”

Talon moved then. He sprung forward, bringing his sword up to strike at Raxen.

This was no longer a bout between an Ork and an Avialae.

This was to be a fight between gods.

[Mirage]

Raxen grunted at the familiar phrase, "I taught Arcas that, not you."

Talon's blade sang through the air, but with almost casual ease the Ork stepped aside and let the blade pass him by.

"You know the words, but you don't know their meaning." Raxen's movements were unhurried as he continued toward Talon with the same measured pace as before. His aura flared, but then contracted fully into the gods body, his nimbus fading until it all but vanished. One large hand balled into a fist, swinging out in a backhand that had enough force to break stone, or turn a pure mortal to dust.

"You're slow." The ork growled, and indeed as the fist came toward him Talon would find his movements seemed sluggish. The impact would be enough to send the Aviale sailing through the air, and Raxen would wait patiently for Talon to right himself and continue the duel.

[Talon]

T A L O N

Talon was shocked at how easily Raxen evaded him. His body felt heavier than normal. His movements not as fluid as they usually were. He furrowed his brow, working to push through the weight that was bringing his movements to a crawl. When that fist made contact with him, Talon felt Raxen’s knuckles crash into his jaw with the force of a blow that would have decapitated a mere mortal. Instead, Talon felt a blinding pain spike through his skull as he was sent careening through the air. He was momentarily stunned but blinked through the pain, instincts kicking in as he angled his wings to control his aerial sailing. He came back to an upright position and shook his head. Reaching up he brushed his fingers upon his jaw, narrowing his eyes at the Ork. It stung, but more so his pride than anything else.

Raxen was doing something, though he did not yet know what it was. This test was about more than just landing a single cut on the man’s body. The other demigod’s behavior said as much, even in the mere handful of minutes that Talon had been introduced to him, that much was clear.

“And you are angry.” Twice now, Talon had seen Raxen quell his anger, barely. Why? There had to be more to it. He supposed there would be only one way of finding out. Marshaling himself, Talon tried to shake off whatever it was that was pressing upon him. He then ran forward but instead of meeting Raxen head-on, he strafed to the side and aimed for one of the Ork’s flanks.