hesitant reunions

[Talon]

A O R E N

66 Ash 122
Continued from rebel with a cause.


Fire rained down upon the writhing mass of darkness that clawed its way out of the Yawning Chasm. Flying high in the skies above the fortified walls of Mistreach Keep was a raven winged Kathar. Around him swirled a veritable storm of fire that illuminated the skies above the keep. He opened his eyes and into that firestorm he allowed the manifestation of a different kind of fire to take root. Silver-white blossomed into being around his form and he joined the light of Dawnfire with his elemental power. Across the walls of Mistreach, others joined him in adding their holy flames that swirled around him. As the flames circled around him, limned with silver and light, he summoned into being the full might of his Arsenal replicating them with a flick of his thoughts. Raising a hand, the many weapons of his arsenal were bathed in the elemental and holy flames. Dropping his hand, the firestorm rained down upon the darkness spewing forth from the mouth of the chasm. There was a dull roar as the darkness and the creatures that were spawning from it were burned away through the combined might of Aoren and the Dawnmartyrs who had joined the Sky Guard to patrol the Yawning Chasm.

The display lasted for perhaps only a minute as the swarm of creatures was destroyed in the assault. It had been a swarm that had crept up from the Warrens that, had it not been dealt with, would have overrun the keep. Fortunately, the many Houses and Guilds of Kalzasi were collaborating to identify the weak points in the city’s defenses and address them. House Novalys had ceased all trading with Illumite and had begun releasing stockpiles of the gemstone to the populace, primarily the Sky Guard, Dawnmartyrs, Slayer’s Keep and the Shadow Guard of House Dahshida. Moonstone was also released and was disseminated more widely among the civilian populace. The dawnstone needed to be in the hands of Kalzasi’s defenders primarily for the moment.

As the flames died down, Aoren adjusted his angle and glided down to the main watchtower overlooking the Yawning Chasm. As he landed, he blinked as a sense of foreboding importance settled upon his shoulders. He rubbed the back of his neck where rest the mark of Eminence. He felt a warmth spreading from it that seemed stronger than before. It caused a yearning to spawn in his chest that would never be satisfied until his husband, his soulmate, his other half, was safely back with him.

“Lord Aoren.” One of the Knight-Captain's rendered a salute to him which he returned. “There are some people here to see you.”

He turned to regard the people whom the soldier was gesturing to. He immediately recognized Florian and the two Kathar who had taken to following the young demigod. He turned flaming eyes upon them but the fires in his eyes soon died down to banked coals. He whispered to the flames that burned inside of him, soothing them. Dressed as he was in the vestments of the Skyforge Raiment, he was every bit a spectre of death to most. To the soldiers of the Sky Guard and the knights of the Dawnmartyr however, he had become a familiar sight that was welcomed on any battlefield they traveled to.

“Florian?” He owed a great deal to the young demigod of Rebellion. More than he could say. Were it not for Florian, he would not be free of everything the Imperium had wound up inside of him.

[Florian]

"You must come with me." It was a phrase repeated to Adrian and Marcel each; Adrian, exhausted from his unofficial assistance to the Sky Guard in battling the shadows, agreed without hesitation or question. It bothered Florian to some degree, but the Kathar reveled in his freedom; perhaps he felt some debt to the demigod for it, which was antithetical to his beliefs. But regardless of his reason to agree, Florian wanted him to come with. It was only an hour since he had returned with the moonstone after his meeting with Talon, and he was not going to make the other demigod wait longer than he had to.

Marcel was very little difficulty to convince, either. After over a season in Kalzasi, he had expressed wishes, privately, to Adrian his desire to join the Sky Guard. Marcel felt some anxiety around the lack of responsibility, instruction, and control. Yet he did not yet make the step towards joining up with them when Florian had found and approached him in the Palace of the First Winds, where he was briefly volunteering in the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" He replied to Florian's request.

"To make a decision. I would like you with me." Florian said, to Marcel's disapproval. But he acquiesced, and dusted the remnants of flour from his wings, and they walked to the watchtower to retrieve Aoren. Ever since his aura had turned to illuminate the area around him, his presence as a demigod was known, on some level, to all who laid their eyes upon him.

To Aoren, he looked the dragon in the face, his face impassive but serious. "I need you to come with me. Trust that you wouldn't believe me if I gave you even a hint of why." His serious expression turned to a smile. He looked to the Kathar behind him. "We head to the Temple of the Fallen Skies. All of us. Now." It was rare that Florian ever even considered issuing a command, and this tone of voice was decidedly uncommon from the Lysanrin.

[Talon]

A O R E N

Aoren blinked at Florian. It was not usual for the young man to be so commanding when interacting with him. Well, that was not entirely true. When it came to dealing with the afflictions of his past, Florian brokered no argument. Trauma was something that he demanded be faced. Sometimes gently. Most of the time forcefully. He had learned that very quickly about the young demigod and while it had been a painful lesson, it had ultimately served him well. He had not fully made peace with every aspect of his past but he was no longer shaken to his core by the mere thought of thinking on the many, many dark deeds that he had been forced to do while enthralled to the Imperium.

“There are many things I wouldn’t have believed before meeting you, Florian.” A smirk touched his lips. “I can’t say that for certain anymore.”

At the mention of the Temple of Fallen Skies, that ominous feeling settled upon his shoulders once more. He had learned only a few things about himself since Florian had helped him break through some of the layers upon layers of repressed memories and bindings that had been placed on him. He had slowly been learning how to trust the uneasy feeling that built inside of him whenever it reared its head. It was a warning, one that he was slowly cultivating in order to glean greater insight into what it meant. There were still things about himself that he was learning. Things he needed to figure out. Simply realizing who and what he truly was had not been enough to suddenly grant him immaculate understanding. He had lived his whole life believing he was an Avialae. He still was. That just wasn’t all of who and what he was now.

He leveled Florian with a hesitant stare before nodding. Looking to the Knight-Captain he spoke a few commands in Synskrit. The guard would send for a portal master in order to expedite their travel. Whatever was waiting for them, he did not want to delay it. There was much that still needed to be attended to with the commotion happening around the city in the wake of the shadows and the eclipse. Speaking of shadows, he rubbed at the back of his neck again. Another mark had appeared. This one had brought with it a slew of feelings. He dimly recalled the dream of the shadowed man. In the dream he vaguely recalled seeing a warm, silver-white glow that had filled him with staggering hope, he had thought for a moment that his beloved had finally come back to him. It was only when he had awoken from the dream that he had realized it had not been real. That was, until he saw the mark burning in his reflection as he had bathed himself.

The woman that joined them was dressed in the red robes of a Circle mage. She carried with her a staff that was topped with Illumite and she clutched it tightly. He understood well the scare that had fallen upon the mages of Kalzasi as the shadow interfered with their craft. They were finding ways to circumvent the dampening effects of the shadow and the eclipse, certainly their stockpiles of dawnstone made it easier. The strong presence of the Circle of Spells and House Briathos made the challenge less daunting. Magic was vital to Kalzasi and its survival.

“My lord?” She gave a slight bow.

“We might have need of your powers, Magus. A moment.” He looked to Florian. “Think you can rein in that dampening aura of yours?”

[Florian]

”Yes.” Florian responded. If one looked close enough, they could potentially see the very faint glow of the god-touched moonstone through his shirt, his jacket left open and only covering his arms and sides. If it weren’t for the dampening effects of his Aether Siphoning, and for his own powerful aura (even dampened as it was), perhaps a Sembler could notice, too.

Aoren had been rather difficult for a time. A man did not wish to face their past, whether in a constructive or a regretful manner, but there came a point rather soon after they had arrived that Florian wouldn’t allow him to wallow any longer. The demigod had spent his own time wallowing, and he knew that he could not change the past. But to accept it, and allow it to act as a guide, as cairn stones marking the path, it empowered him. They both had much trauma to face, but most importantly was that they survived. Their lives and perceptions were built on shaky foundations of sand. Florian felt it was an act of rebellion to the damaged self to rebuild on something stronger.

The act of controlling the antimagic effect was still somewhat new to him. Most of the time he stayed a few feet away from mages and things he knew to be magic, lest they be — or be crafted by — anything less than a master and the manipulated aether begins to wither away, returning to a more natural state. It was incredible unhelpful in Kalzasi, and now bolstered by Rebellion, had caused some spells to go haywire rather than simply fade.

As such, though he knew he should have had more practice in the matter, he took a deep breath. Inhale, exhale, visualizing the antimagic aura that had so disrupted Rickter in their fight. And with his next inhale, he pulled the aura into himself. He could not make it disappear, not entirely, but it clung to the surface of his skin rather than emanated around him.

”I will go last, lest you’re forced to make two portals.” Florian nodded to the mage. He knew what, or, for better words, who awaited them at the temple, but he was glad of Aoren’s lack of hesitancy in that regard.

Once the portal was made, and Aoren, Adrian, and Marcel had stepped through, he nodded to the mage and walked through himself.

[Talon]

D A E M O N

“This is your homeland?” Mathias was looking out over the mountaintop from the grounds of the temple. The monks of the temple had been gracious and inviting, as they always were to those who brought no ill-will upon them.

“Yes.” His voice was soft as he looked out over the Astralar Mountains. The ebony peaks were snow capped. The clouds that always drifted over the rocky spires were darker than he remembered but that was likely due to the darkness that was overhead. He could see no stars in the sky but the twin moons provided more than enough light to see the landscape. In the distance, the many light of Kalzasi City stood like glittering jewels on the horizon.

“It’s beautiful.” Mathias spoke sincerely and wistfully. Gel’Grandal had its own form of Imperial majesty. The industrial powerhouse was baffling to behold and made the Free Cities of the North look small by comparison. There was something to be said however for the difference in their ways of life. Some would have called it simpler, Daemon merely saw it as different. In the wake of everything he had been through over the past nine months however, it all seemed small by comparison. He did not think less of it. He merely saw the challenges of his homeland as easier to handle when placed next to some of the grander schemes that existed outside of the rather insular world of Karnor.

“Can I ask you something?” He looked away from the horizon to where Mathias was standing. The look he gave the young man was signal enough for him to continue. “What are you going to do if he doesn’t come?”

It was a valid question. Mathias had not been silent about his misgivings regarding the plan ahead of them. He had seen firsthand the tyranny that Solunarium invoked as its everyday life. He had lived under the thumb of the Imperium for most of his life. Neither were things that he was keen on. Their stay in the Atraxian kingdom had been enough time for him to learn a few things about Avaerys and Varvara to make the young man uncomfortable. The royals of Solunarium were not exactly restrained in their exertion of power. After he had explained the proposition by Varvara, he had hesitantly agreed to help. Daemon had merely asked that the young man trust him.

“I do not know.” It was true. He did not know what he was going to do if Florian ultimately refused.

“Are you going to, you know, take him prisoner?” There was a nervous air to Mathias words.

“It took a coordinated surprise assault and a veritable army of magicians along with artifacts of considerable ancient power to take me down, Mathias. Florian is not on my level but he is still a god. Even I cannot just pluck him out of the aether and spirit him away wherever I wish. Not without a fight.” He sighed and shook his head. “I am not looking for a fight. Not with him. I want his help not his hatred.”

“What about King Shinyhair and Queen Whatsherface?” Daemon chuckled under his breath at Mathias unmasked annoyance with the other two gods with whom the bargain had been struck. It came as no surprise to him that the young man did not care for them.

“Avaerys and Varvara will make up their own minds about me. At the moment, I imagine all they care about is being free. Same as I. What comes after that?” He shrugged. “We shall see.”

The air stirred and he turned his head to the courtyard. Aether rippled across the flux as a hole began to form in the fabric of reality. It bent and warped the shape of the world around it until it spiraled in on itself creating a portal into the Slipspace. That portal was soon opened wider and through it stepped two vaguely familiar faces. He recognized them as the two Kathar guards whom he had once had as bodyguards while in the Imperium. Daemon turned more fully to face them. Then froze.

A tall man with raven wings stepped through the portal. His hair had taken on a more auburn cast, like the red-orange glow of light from a campfire. Magma burned in his scarlet irises giving him a nearly demonic look in the darkness of the moonlit night. A dozen, no, a thousand feelings rushed through him as the man immediately locked eyes with him. The man’s face went slack with shock. His mouth fell open. Those scarlet eyes went wide. Daemon’s chest ached as though his very soul was trying to reach out to the man in front of him. Some broken part of him was desperately searching for something that was missing, something that should have been there, something that this awful ordeal had robbed him of.

“Aor--” He did not even get to finish uttering the man’s name when the man was suddenly in front of him. A larger body was pressed against him, hands came up to grip his biceps firmly. A warm mouth was pressed against his own and Daemon’s thoughts scattered, melting into little more than basic concepts. Those concepts were safety, arousal, happiness, home and finally, love. Aoren was kissing him with the thirst of a dying man who had finally found the Fountain of Life. Daemon found himself leaning into him. His hands moved of their own accord. His fingers gripped the front of Aoren’s shirt, gripping the fabric for dear life. He had no idea how long they stood there kissing but it was not enough. It was broken finally when the two of them gasped for air. Daemon pressed his brow against Aoren’s.

“Tell me this isn’t a dream.” His husband’s voice was like fire itself, flowing over him with warmth. Aoren smelled of cinnamon and cloves mixed with the scent of a coming rain in the woods. He breathed in that smell, having forgotten it entirely. Hearing the man’s voice caused a knot of weariness and anxiety he had forgotten was there, to unfurl and fade away. He practically sagged against one of only two men with whom he felt he could be completely and utterly vulnerable. He did not care if others saw it. He did not care what they thought upon seeing the normally stoic and angry chained Demigod of Justice become completely unraveled by the mere presence and touch of someone he loved with all his heart.

“It is not a dream.” He gripped Aoren’s shirt more tightly. His own voice was hoarse with emotion.
This was why he wanted to be free. This was why he had to hold on to himself. He stood there, just holding Aoren to himself. Aoren wrapped his wings around them and hugged him tightly to his body. He did not know how long they stood there in silence simply just hugging one another. Eventually though, Aoren cupped his face.

“How are you here? Not that I am not over the moons with joy but…” His eyes drifted over the armor that Daemon still wore. He flinched. The dreamlike moment was broken and he was forced to come back to reality.

“Are you free? Are you not still a prisoner?” Aoren’s fingers trailed over his neck and Daemon leaned into that touch, starved for it before forcing himself to take a step back so he could collect his thoughts.

“That, my heart, is why I am here. Why we are here.” He drew himself up, piecing the bits of his scattered mind back together and pulling back his monumental desire to just lose himself in Aoren’s embrace. This fight was not over. If anything, this reunion had made it both easier and harder to face what lay ahead.

“Florian has agreed to come with me to Mount Kaladon. To travel to the sacred mountain where rest entombed two ancient gods who may yet be able to free me from the armor.” He looked over to Florian. He had said what had been agreed upon thus far. Florian had not agreed to help him beyond that. They would see whether he would.

[Florian]

Adrian immediately bristled upon seeing Talon, and the implications of such. He had no fondness, but no hatred for the man, either; his fear lay in the Imperium catching back up to him. Florian lay a hand on his arm. "It's not what you think," he said, as Aoren and Talon kissed. Marcel was not thrilled about the idea of returning to the Imperium either, finally, but his reaction was not so overt. As Aoren and Talon spoke to each other, he eventually revealed the purpose for this mountain meeting.

"Three days, I promised him. I am hesitant to offer more." Florian clarified. "We will see. But I have brought the strongest people I know who would come on my word. For support, if anything, I felt we should not go alone." He said, primarily to Talon, but to offer elaboration for the other three as well. Florian could see, clear as day, the tethers that spun around Aoren and Talon, even changed as he was. He watched the frayed ribbon revitalize a touch, grow stronger and pull itself together as they embraced and kissed and held each other close.

"I don't see why we should waste anymore time, then." He said, hands clasped together in front of him. He looked to Aoren. "What do you need to do to prepare, then? Do you wish to prepare, or shall we leave?" Florian had no idea what to expect, frankly, and as such felt no need to make preparations for something. He had no way to know if he owned a single thing that would assist him on this venture. As usual, his only tools were himself and whatever conscious thought managed to break through his impulsivity and bouts of anger.

The tyrant gods were, almost certainly, far stronger than he was. If they wanted to kill him after release, they could, and easily. He was not so used to the behavior of snakes, and he knew he would have to stay on guard if he wished to maneuver this veritable mess with any sort of finesse. But as someone who preferred to brute force his way through things, it was unfamiliar territory. Regardless of the outcome, it would ripple across the weave of fate in ways no one could expect — and his mother would be very, very proud of him.

[Talon]

D A E M O N

“We need to collect a few things from my vault.” He would have stepped out of the circle of Aoren’s arms but his husband had wrapped one arm around his shoulders. Aoren was still hugging him tightly to his side, with one of his raven wings lightly brushing along his arm. It was perhaps a bit too tight of an embrace but after everything they had been through, he found he did not mind the touch.

“Vault?” Mathias blinked, quirking an eyebrow. Daemon nodded.

“There are items that I have forged that I have bestowed upon no others. Things that are the pinnacle of my craft. I do not know what waits for us at Mount Kaladon.” He did not want to take any chances. There were only a handful of items stored within his personal vault, which was itself a runeforged artifact. If they were going to go into the mouth of a treacherous place, a place under the purview of two gods whom he most certainly did not trust, he wanted them all to be prepared.

“Lovely! Because I don’t know about the rest of you but, I don’t think I’m quite as sturdy.” Mathias gave a light, nervous chuckle as he rubbed at the back of his head. Daemon looked at the young man. He sighed and shook his head.

“No, Mathias.” His squire blinked at him, a confused look crossing his face.

“What?” Daemon stepped forward and Aoren hesitantly let him go. He walked up to his squire, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“You are staying here. I will be entrusting you to the monks of the temple. I will also be sending for Dawnmartyrs to come and guide you.” The young man was shaking his head even before he had finished his sentence.

“No. No way. I’m not staying behind. Not after everything we’ve been through.” The young man tilted his chin up in defiance, a fierce look settling in his eyes.

“Mathias--” Daemon began but his squire shouted and cut him off.

“No! You can’t just--just fly off into the distance and leave me behind!” To his surprise, the young man suddenly threw his arms around his waist. Daemon was momentarily caught off guard. Slowly however, he brought his hands down to rest upon the young man’s shoulders. “I don’t care how dangerous it is. I don’t care if I might die.”

Daemon hugged Mathias and spoke softly.

“I do.” Gently, he prompted the young thief to look up at him. “I care.”

“Why bring me all this way if you’re just going to leave me behind?” It took a moment for him to put words to the thoughts running through his head. Why had he found Mathias that one day in the empire? Why had he invited the young man into his life? Why had he brought him with him across the world and back again?

“Because, without you, I would have lost myself far sooner.” He squeezed his squire’s shoulders. “You are my hope for the Imperium, Mathias. A reminder that good things can come from even the darkest of circumstances.”

“Fine.” Mathias shoulders sagged. “But you better come back. I’ve still got training.”

Daemon chuckled and pat Mathias on the shoulder.

“Oh, you are not getting out of your training that easy, my squire. The monks and the knights will be seeing to you while I am gone.”

With that, he looked to one of the monks who was nearby, nodding to the Orkhan woman. She stepped forward, placing one hand on Mathias shoulder. The young man looked at her, let out a breath and then firmed his shoulders. He nodded to Daemon who returned the nod. He watched the monk and Mathias enter the temple in silence before returning his attention to the group. He said nothing but raised his hand and opened a portal. The gateway swirled as he opened a pathway through the slipspace to their first destination. He extended his other hand to Aoren, who immediately laced their fingers together. To Florian, Adrian and Marcel, he spoke simply.

“Come.” Stepping through the portal, Daemon held it open, awaiting the other three on the other side.

[Florian]

"A vault," Florian said, his curiosity piqued. Certainly, he had no qualms about bringing the teenage boy with them — and didn't even spare a thought to the possibility, given the rest of their composition. But Florian did not object to his staying behind, either. There were other plans for him, and his possibility to be held hostage, or used as a pawn by one of the tyrant gods was not out of the question. He kept his expectations blank, unsure if these gods were reasonable, angry, difficult, calm. He didn't know what would unnerve him more.

"It's good," He said. "That you expect to be able to come back for him. And that you have planned for the case that you can't." This was the explanation for what Florian had observed — and by taking Mathias out of the picture, there was one less circumstance holding him back. The weakest link in the chain had shifted. To who?

Florian looked to Adrian and Marcel, beckoning towards the portal as they hesitated. "You don't have to come," He reassured them, but Adrian was especially stalwart in his decision and immediately marched through the portal, without bothering to wait for Florian. Marcel was obviously more anxious about the choice, and Florian watched him, quiet, until the other Kathar nodded as well, and then he looked at the portal.

"I need to make decisions now." He said, staring at the portal for another few seconds before he walked in as well. Florian was the last. Though he knew his aura had almost no effect on Talon's magic — he could not nearly compete with the aether and power that he was able to channel — he went last.

[Talon]

D A E M O N

Stepping through the portal would take them all to a place that was clearly still within the Astralar Mountainrange. The ebony peaks were capped with snow. Several of the mountains themselves were suspended in the air as the strange vortex that kept them aloft prompted them to drift lazily in the skies. They arrived at the end of a pathway leading up to a circle of columns upholding a ring of stone. Aethereal mists of silver flowed over the edges of the space between the rings of pillars. At the center of the ring stood a cherry blossom tree that towered over the columns. Golden vines dangled from the branches, swaying lightly in the cold breeze that wafted its way through the clouds. Golden light limned with shafts of silver flowed outward from the tree, blanketing the entire space with a warm glow. Impossibly, the pitch black darkness that spread across the heavens was not present in the skies above this quiet place. The inky black darkness lingered around the edges but the infinite canvas of stars was visible within the space it did not cover.

“What is this place, my love?” Aoren sounded in awe. There was a serenity to the precipice that was profound in a way. Even the darkness that lingered at the edges of the mountain haven paused in reverence of it. Daemon was looking out over the place silently. There was clear longing in his expression.

“My sanctuary.” That was all he offered. As Daemon stepped forward, everything in the world around him in that place seemed to take note of his presence. The air paused as if to pay him respect. The rock and stone beneath his boots remained quiet as though in prayer. Even the darkness looming at the edges of the light that exuded from the tree, seemed to bow and recede as he entered the space proper. This was a place that he shared with no other. In this sanctuary, in this cathedral to his divinity, he reigned as the supreme power. It was diminished and incomplete due to his circumstances but the space that had been created prior to his imprisonment, still remained his and his alone. The veil of his mortality fell away. His nimbus manifested and the full expanse of his aura spread outward from him. It continued expanding, spreading across the entire sanctuary and then further and further and further until it covered everything as far as the eye could see for miles in every direction. Daemon's aura was easily large enough to have blanketed the entirety of the city-state of Kalzasi in its protection.

“Come.” Approaching the outer ring of stone columns, Daemon paused. He could feel it. He could feel the sense of waiting that rose up from his sanctuary. He could feel the piece of himself that was missing. He was ready for this, all of this, to be over. He wanted to be whole again. He wanted to be free. He could only imagine how Avaerys and Varvara felt, having been imprisoned for thousands of years. He had never intended for their imprisonment to last so long but fate, it seemed, had set him on a different path. Moving past the boundary of the outer ring he entered the space proper. There were things present that would have been familiar to those who knew him. The makings of what looked like an aetherforge, though it was cold and dark. A workbench for crafting, some broken alchemical equipment, and what appeared to be other paraphernalia for training and comfort. Daemon approached the tree. It stood within a pond filled with silver waters. He stepped onto the surface of the water without hesitation. He did not sink but walked across the surface as though it were solid ground. Raising a hand he pressed it to the trunk of the tree.

Strands of silver aether extended from the vines of the tree, flowing into several of the columns surrounding them. Daemon turned to those around him.

“Within some of the columns I have sealed away a powerful artifact of my own creation. Armor. Weapons. Rings. Several things that I have forged over the years and, before my capture, chose to bring here that they might be safe from mortal thieves.” The various arcane wards he’d place upon this sanctuary aside, any intruder would have had to deal with the divine aspect of this place.

“Go. Choose what you would take with you. Take only one thing and take only that which calls to you.”

Off Topic

I'm going to be working on the next couple days to finish several of my outstanding placeholders in order to finish forging the artifacts available here. So, I apologize for the hold-up. Gonna be submitting them to the support forum for review here soon!

[Florian]

Florian, last through the portal, was first to stop watching in awe at the outskirts of the sanctuary, and first to start walking around as the demigod spoke. He uncorked an empty vial near the broken alchemical equipment, quirked a brow, and then set it down as he was instructed to pick something. Florian didn't move, yet, and watched the others.

There were multiple sets of armor, and Adrian gravitated towards one immediately. He had his own armor, from his tenure in the Kathar Legion, but he had not worn it since arriving to Kalzasi — and he had yet still avoided getting any in the Kalzasern style, worried about the commitment. But Florian could see from across the silver pond that that set of armor had called to him enough, even if it were just the silvery metal and opalescent accents, like gemstones had been embedded where the pieces were bolted together. Though it had not been made for him, as he began to strap it on, it seemed as if it would fit him perfectly.

Marcel took a sword by the handle, but like Adrian, he was a reaver — and not one intent on yet trying to pact with an enchanted weapon. He set it back on its mount, and gazed across the sanctuary. He stretched his wings and flew to a pillar near Florian, within which lay another suit of armor. Like the plate that Adrian had chosen, it held an otherworldly beauty one wouldn't expect from metal, and despite how dark the metal was, it seemed as reflective as a mirror. Unlike Adrian, he still wore his Kathar armor out of comfort, though rarely in public. Even now, inspecting his reflection in the breastplate, Marcel did not seem to want to immediately don it as Adrian did.

Florian wandered towards the aether forge, as dark as it was. He held a lingering concern about enchantments, even now, and though one could consider his arm as some form of magic (given that it was a golem), he wasn't sure if he wanted anything. He wasn't sure how inconsiderate it would be to refuse a gift from a host, let alone a demigod host, and he walked over to a display that featured a few rings, all beautiful in their own right. But there was one in the corner that was visually different. Florian picked up the ring, and realized it was less a ring and more a gilded claw, though not pointed at the end. Though his hands were much smaller than he expected a ring made by and for Talon to fit, it slipped on just before the first knuckle of the index finger of his left hand.

He looked over his shoulder at Adrian, now assisting Marcel in donning his black armor, and then to Daemon, whom he turned and began to approach. "What else would you have us do to prepare?"