when justice quakes

[Talon]

T A L O N

31 Ash 124
Continued from here.

The Warrens were home to innumerable curiosities. There were things beautiful, things mysterious, things wondrous. But it was also home to things that were horrifying, things that drove men mad at the mere sight of them. Talon beheld one of those things now. Were he not graced with the mantle of divinity, he very well might have fled from the terrible monstrosity that was taking shape before him. Whatever twisted experiment the Voidrillium Man had been conducting must have left a deeper taint that usual in the gravebound shamblers that had surrounded him. Exacerbated by the effects of his true divine form, Talon could only watch as a new nightmare took shape.

Corrupted flesh melted in the heat of his dawnfire only to pull back and congeal into a bulbous mass of writhing puss, slime, and charred skin. As more and more of the broken shamblers and their much larger counterparts fused together, a new abomination rose from the amalgamation. Pods of rotting black and purple flesh erupted from a central mound of undulating gore. The slimy muck began to solidify into a bulbous mass of sinew, bone, corrupted voidstone and flailing tendrils at the end of which were too many faces, with too many teeth, and too many eyes. Boney prominences jutted out at odd angles, forming spikes that could skewer a full grown man. As the horrific monstrosity finally took shape, it opened a cavernous maw filled with row after row of jagged teeth. It emit a terrifying roar that was echoed by the twisted mouths at the ends of each of its tendrils.

Talon did not flinch. He stared at the creature, anger burning inside of him. He called Semblance to his eyes, looking over the twisted horror with something close to revulsion. This, this terrible creature, was nothing more than the fetid remains of gravebound woven together out of pure malice and hate. He keyed his Semblance to observe the flow of energy across the creature’s muscle mass, aiding his physical sight by watching for cues that would help him predict the wretched thing’s next moves.

The creature lurched forward, massive fleshy tendrils surging ahead of its main body like rotting serpents slithering through the air. Talon enacted kinetic seeming, spreading his wings and weaving his own aether flux into that of a spot positioned just above the writhing tendrils. He narrowly missed being bitten in half by the monster’s primary mouth on his way upwards, forcing Talon to twist his body out of the way. He tucked his wings, spinning as he dove out of the way of yet another barrage of tendrils biting and snapping at him.

Gripping his sword, Talon partially dematerialized his pact blade, giving it a varnish of his dawnfire. Spreading his wings, Talon darted toward the mass of tendrils in front of him. As he sored through the air, he enacted duplicity, multiplying his pact blade by the dozens. Each of them flared to life around him, blazing with the silver-white light of the dawnfire that he commanded. With a flick of his thoughts, he morphed the edges of each of his blades causing them to become even sharper than they already were. He stared into the mouths of at least seven toothy tentacles that raced toward him. As they drew near, each of his burning blades zoomed forward, slicing into the trunks of the fleshy appendages. The sickening smell of burning, rotting flesh filled the air as the tendrils that had been racing toward him were cut clean off the writhing mass of horrid flesh. The heat of the dawnfire cauterized as each blade cut, leaving only a glowing trail of charred and burned flesh.

The monstrosity reared back in agony, roaring as it flailed the burned stumps of its tendrils. Talon did not wait for it to recover, he flapped his wings and dove forward toward the central mass. The beast caught sight of him flying toward him and its main pair of eyes along with the eyes on its remaining tendrils all glowed a deep violet. Through Semblance, Talon watched as destructive energy flowed through the monster. He had just enough time to bring up his kinetic and negation woven shield, transforming it into a Bulwark as numerous rays of voidrillium charged beams blasted toward him.

Talon was sent flying backwards as the eye rays slammed into his arcane bulwark. He landed on his feet, wings spread to help steady his impact. His boots connected with the solid ground and he activated their inherent Seeming ability allowing him to plant his feet firmly on the earth. He grit his teeth as the destructive power of the voidrillium pummeled his bulwark barrier forcing him to concentrate solely on withstanding the corrosive power of the voidstone that must have embedded itself into the monstrosity’s being. Talon let out a shout of unbridled rage as he reached forth into the aether flow of the wretched horror and inserted a negation Injunction to disrupt the creatures destructive power.

There was a horrible rending sound as the terrible energies of the voidrillium collided with his injunction and spiraled out of control. The creature and its remaining tendrils screamed in agony before cracks of voidstone power formed along the whole of its being. With an echoing roar, the creature exploded in a revolting spray of gore that splattered upon the walls of the cavern.

Slowly, Talon lowered his shield but kept his sword at the ready.

“Justice…” A rumbling voice filled the cavern. Talon’s gaze was drawn to the drip of the entrails lining the cavern walls. Arcs of violet energy were still flickering between different parts. Across the cavern, Talon saw the shadows begin moving.

“Don’t make me laugh.” Stepping into cavern was a figure clad in black armor. The arcs of destructive voidrillium energy leapt up from the residue of the dead creature, striking the armored figure’s form. They did not seem to notice as they continued walking forward. Talon narrowed his eyes but his vision was halted. Staring at the armored figure he saw only an empty black space devoid of any aetheric flow or form. Talon gripped his sword more tightly, bracing himself.

“You are not Justice. You are a fraud.” The black armored figure continued walking forward. As they did so, they reached up one gauntleted hand to grip the hilt of a sword upon their back. “You are not Light. You are a liar.”

“You do not bring Hope. You bring nothing but despair and false promises.” The violet arcs of energy shot forward out of the ground and struck the figure’s armor causing it to ignite in purple flames. Again, the figure did not seem to notice nor did they seem to care.

The figure drew their blade and Talon felt his blood go cold. He felt very real fear strike him and with it, a sudden pain in his chest. A pain born from an old wound, a wound inflicted long, long ago. Talon took an involuntary step back, eyes going wide with terror. The black armored warrior held the sword steady, a trail of smoke and ash falling from the charred blade.

“This is where your tyranny ends, Lightbringer.” There was a pause. He could almost feel the smile beneath the black helm the warrior wore. “I see you remember this blade, this sword.”

Talon’s eyes remained fixed on that blade. That sword, THE sword.

“Alah’Fin.”

Light’s End.

The sword that had killed Arcas.

[Talon]

T A L O N

Talon quickly glanced around him, eyes searching for the others to make sure they were well and truly removed from the danger that was in front of him. Aurin, Hilana, Hikami, his aunt, the miners…and Aoren. The last thing he wanted was for them to be caught in the crosshairs of what he knew was to come.

“Looking to run? I don’t think so.” The black armored warrior slashed Alah’Fin in front of him. A fierce wind picked up, forcing Talon to shield himself with his wings. All around him, the violet flames of destruction flared to life, climbing across the walls, crawling up to the ceiling and raging around the two of them to form a burning enclosure.

“You will face me, Lightbringer.” The warrior stood taller. Talon lowered his wings, shaking them free of the dust that had been kicked up. His heart was pounding in his chest. He could feel a cold sweat all across his body. Flashbacks to that awful day, the day that his first life had ended, and the day that ended an Age, played across his mind. He steeled himself.

He was not that Arcas.

This was not that battle.

“What quarrel do you have with me?” He kept a firm hold on his pact sword, senses on alert.

“What any man would, after a lifetime of being fed lies and false hope.” The warrior raised his arms and the fires raging around them burned hotter. Talon pushed away his bone-deep terror as best he could. “You, who has been the idol of hollow justice! You who gives men hope only to abandon them when it is needed most! You, who for countless ages, has failed to deliver this world from darkness! I am the vengeance of justice denied! I am the hope for those misguided by your empty promises!”

Talon felt it the moment the warrior moved. He raised his sword just as the dark warrior bolted forward brandishing Alah’Fin. The impact of their blades meeting sent a thunderous boom throughout the cavern. The shockwave of the blow would have broken a mortal man. But Talon was no mortal. He was a Draegir. He was the Son of Eikaen reborn and he would not bend nor break from this foe that had crawled out of the depths of the Warren’s hellscape. Talon felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end as he stared into the visor of the armored warrior.

“Your light is blighted and I will rid the world of you, once and for all.” He pulled back and struck, moving with a stunning swiftness. Talon found himself on the defensive as he parried the swordman’s blows, pressed in a way that he had not encountered in several years. Were Talon a mortal, he had no doubt that each strike would have likely shattered an ordinary man’s bones. Indeed, were it not for the fact that he was wielding a Pact Blade, a manifestation of his pure will, Talon was absolutely certain that any other blade would have been sundered under the ferocity of the assault.

Sparks flew as the two of them continued to match blow for blow, engaging in a furious dance of blades that made it difficult for him to do anything but keep up with the black armored warrior. With each strike, the reverberating shockwave cracked the rock and stone around them. Stalactites and stalagmites crumbled only to be blasted apart by the raging fires that continue to burn. The dark armored warrior emit a fierce battlecry, bringing down Alah’Fin in a downward strike forcing Talon to bring his sword up to block the blow. The impact brought Talon to a knee. He grunted, matching the weight of the warrior bearing down upon him evenly. Gritting his teeth, Talon took hold of the hilt of his sword with both hands, giving a forceful push that saw him back on his feet. It was only by chance that he saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye.

A ball of violet flames careened toward him, the roar of the fires sounding like the wail of lost souls. Talon shoved the warrior away from him, flapped his wings and jumped back out of the way but not before he felt the heat of the flames on his left wing. Talon screamed in pain as the fire burned his wing, white hot pain scorching through him. Voidfire was not of the Light, not like normal fires or even elemental magical ones. They were something else entirely and thus outside of ability to control directly. Talon stirred his kinetics into motion. He acted as quickly as he could, weaving the threads of his kinetic mastery into the very aether of the voidfire and severing their flow. Immediately the flames were snuffed out.

Talon fell to the ground, sliding across the earth as he landed on his right shoulder. He was momentarily stunned. Pain lanced through his left flank. Heaving for breath, he brought himself to a knee. Blearily he looked at his left wing and saw that both his wing and part of his torso was scorched. He squeezed his eyes, biting back the scream of pain that wanted to escape his throat as he forced himself back to his feet. His vision spun for a moment before he shook off the dizziness and faced his opponent.

“Coward!” Talon growled out. “Afraid you cannot defeat me without resorting to trickery?”

“The only coward here is you, Arcas!” The warrior spat back at him. The fires around them swelled and converged on the dark armored figure. Raising Alah’Fin high, he then pointed the ashen blade at Talon.

Talon summoned the white-hot fires of the dawn. His entire body became wreathed in the holy fires of his domain and for the first time in this life, he unleashed them with all of his might.

Silver-white flames met blackened violet in an inferno that made the very foundations of the First Deep of the Warrens tremble.

He could not fall.

He would not fall.

As the fury of his dawnfire battled against the cursed fires wielded by this warrior, all Talon could think about were the people he loved and cared for. Each of their faces played across his mind.

Rickter.

“You say that the hope I give is false…” He took a step forward. He remembered how he had pulled Rickter out of the depths of his own doubts. With love and patience, the wolf Rathari had been shown the strength of his animal side, had become a warrior, a guardian, a protector and eventually…a lover and friend.

Lyra.

“You say I give naught but hollow justice…” He took another step forward. The Lady of Whispers was a complicated being. Never could she be described as a being of purely good intentions but neither was she evil for evil’s sake. Inside of Lyra there was a woman who despised oppression, injustice, and any who stepped on the necks of those who were already downtrodden. He had worked with her to help others, to uplift lost souls, and she even aided him freeing his divine brother.

Talon looked into the visor of the dark warrior. He still could not pierce the darkness in and around them but he could see that they were straining.

Talon took another step forward.

Aoren.

The dragon who had been broken. The knight who had been lost. Together they had endured much and together they had found each other again.

“I am Hope. I am Justice.” The silver fires of the dawn burned brighter, overcoming the void-touched flames of the dark warrior. “I am Light.”

Dawnfire wrapped around the warrior. Talon clenched his fist.

“And you shall not extinguish me this day.” Charging forward, Talon threw a punch wreathed in the flames of his divinity, punching into the warrior’s helmed head, sending the warrior flying back into the stone walls of the deeps. The impact saw the stone crack and indent as the dark warrior slammed into the stone.

Alah’Fin clattered to the ground at the warrior’s feet.

Talon swayed on his feet, dropping to a knee. The dawnfire around him dimmed until it was only a vague aura around just his body. The crown of his nimbus flickered as he felt a wave of exhaustion fall over him. Still, he kept his eyes fixed on the warrior who was, for the moment, motionless.

Is it over?

[Chronicle]

As Talon braved the oncoming dark force that threatened to assail him, as he countered it with the might of his own power within the Domain that he had claim to; the clash between light and darkness would bring about an unprecedented outcome. Revelations would soon rise the moment that victory finally seemed assured, and the unwavering resolve between the two forces echoed with what could only be described as the dance of death. A recurring one even. Yet, in that waking moment when Talon felt his own courage drive him forward, and hope propelled him to quell back the oppressive darkness that threatened to consume him. To end him just as it did many times before.

The Dark Knight had been hit with the might of Talon's fist enough to send the armored figure lurching. Nearly spiraling through the air until the collision with the wall of the mineshaft rattled with resounding trembles throughout the interior. The very foundations of the mine itself felt the weight of such an impact, and when the stone and dust gushed from its source, the divine prince was left standing to watch and determine whether the battle had reached its conclusion.

But something more had taken place. That clash between light and darkness had stirred up ancient and forgotten moments buried deep within the soul, memories of lives that Talon had never quite lived when Arcas had reincarnated before him. For in that bout between the Dark Knight and him, something primal had driven the two to act the way that they did. The motivations for Talon were clear in the end; survival based on the idea of hope and love for the ones he cherished most. A concept that empowered his resolve to victory, and in the past the very bitter end in turn.

But such echoes that once felt lost to the throes of history, now suddenly threatened to rise and swell from within Talon's very soul. He could relive as little or as many as he wanted to, acknowledging or suppressing them to overcome the overwhelming sensation that burned ever so brilliantly from within his core. However, one such memory could not be repressed no matter how much he might've tried. Talon, as Arcas, would relive a singular moment that time itself would never be able to forgive; let alone forget.

The wound of war felt fresh across the devastated landscape as silence had claimed prominence throughout the fields and valleys. A vivid red sunset had rested to the west as smoke still rose from places where embers quietly burned, while ash and snow both fell from the overcast that loomed gloomily within the skies overhead.

Soldiers. Many good warriors of might, skill, and even magic; all were battered, bloodied, and bruised from their hard-won victory, all from very many different backgrounds yet united for a singular cause. Colossal figures that towered into the heavens like living mountains watched from a distance, their rigid forms unwavering as the conclusion of the battle that had transpired left them to spectate the final moments of war. The bitter reprieve that the remaining forces were left to live with, knowing that their patron of Hope had finally met his end with the conclusion of His campaign.

A great pyre had been built as those who could be collected, as in the bodies of those slain from battle, were brought together so that they too might join their leader once the fires could be lit. Tragic losses were being counted as thousands of soldiers had come on this day; Hytori and Siltori who believed in His cause, Humans, Orkhans, and even Dwarves who endorsed it so that they too could create an ideal world. A place no longer riddled with strife from the evil that destroyed all sense of peace between people, and fanned the flames of hatred so that kindred would slay one another and ensue war after war.

Bodies lined this massive pyre that the survivors had lit, their final hope also resting atop of it in the cold embrace of death as well. When the final traces of the sun's glimmer died out below the horizon, all that remained was the glow of fires that night to remind them of what they had won; and what it had also cost in the end.

Arcas had been slain.

A beacon that had united so many in these turbulent times and shed so much light on the chaos existing within the world. One who had balanced compassion with austere principles, who had instilled such foundational belief within the ranks of those who followed him. In battle. In death. In the beyond.

As the pyre burned and remnants of the soldiers took refuge among the flames, two of the surviving generals to the Commander of Light sat at one such fire; the pair of them observing as the gathered fallen collectively burned into a vicious pile of charred remains and ash. The smells from tonight would only haunt the remaining survivors until the finality of their days would reach their end in turn.

“I... I should've been there.” Tiberius wavered as he looked down at the crackling embers before his feet, his armor almost completely sundered from the clashes against the enemy numbers he'd fought against. The wounds that he had endured from the battle marred his arms, his legs, and even his shoulders and chest, which were completely bandaged up from different types of shredded cloth. “Had we slain our foes sooner, then we could've...”

Near Tiberius rested a man with rich oaken hair and pointed ears, his eyes a vivid blue as he solemnly gave the man an empathetic look. "We had our orders. And, we followed them just as he commanded us to." Those familiar blue eyes shifted from Tiberius toward the pyre once more, seeing the embers glowing like fireflies dancing into the heavens above. "To go against those orders would've meant going against everything he stood for, even if that made our great commander a martyr at the end of all this."

“But still...” Tiberius exhaled to fight back the overwhelming sorrow in his voice. “How can we have hope when He's no longer here to carry it? How do we move on from this? When all this bloodshed... When it...” The paled elf near Tiberius looked over once again, his composure still before his blue eyes watched the flames before them once more.

"Do you really believe that? Even for a second?" Tiberius gazed with watery eyes toward his companion, as the somber breeze which carried across the scarred battlefield gently caressed them both and the fire they accompanied. "Arcas gave us something to believe in, something to fight for, and even though He is now gone that hope still remains." There was a fierceness in his tone but the Elve sounded more than just devoted, as if part of him had also been torn away upon the loss of their fabled leader. "We have to carry that hope now. Our comrades. Our friends. Their lives would mean nothing otherwise if we were to just absolve ourselves of this war. If we let the world plunder itself back into the darkness that festered within it, then war will only remain just one of many blight upon this land."

Tiberius gazed in awe as he felt uncertain of those words, challenged even, as what hope he would've desperately clung to remained fleeting at best. Across the edges of the battlefield, sounds of the lumbering mountains finally began to move on their own, before the titans that remained finally took their leave to withdraw from the site itself. "Our new friends have elected to take their leave. As we should too come the morning, if there will be such a thing."

“What are we to do?” Tiberius woefully inquired with his head bent forward, his tear-stricken face riddled with exhaustion.

"We carry on." The Elve answered quietly without looking away from the flames, listening as the trembles born of giants' footsteps waned with each wayward step in the distance. "There's no doubt in my mind that the will of the Gods demands us to do so. They delivered unto us a prince who would shepherd the world, and... I'll be damned if I don't see his will carried out in this life and the next."

The unwavering resolve in his companion touched something within Tiberius, as he looked upon the Elve with a feeling of deep-rooted love and respect. Something kin in nature to what the Elve himself felt for Arcas before the end. “R”-

It took a moment for Talon to realize that beyond the memories, and the final glimpse of the receding one he just experienced, that what he felt wasn't necessarily just his memory alone anymore. It had been the shared memory between him and those he was Fated to come across once more, the echo of Destiny that remained etched in not just his soul but the very soul that stood before him.

For when the dust finally cleared out, and the dark knight became visible within it's veil, the figure stood up from the small crater born from his impact. The scraping of metal against stone suggested it when the man staggered onto his feet, and the cracked visor of his helm completely crumbled away to reveal the face of the one who remained underneath it.

The very same face of Tiberius Frostfang somehow miraculously in the flesh.


Yet darkness remained rooted deep in his eyes and even deeper into his soul, venerating a woefully willful hate that contradicted everything the warrior once stood for.



Still rather stiffly winded from the force of Talon's fist, the ex-general of Arcas' first army bent his knees, lowering himself to grip the hilt of Alah’Fin before he rose to a complete stand once more. “Perhaps not today...” The man exuded cold and venomous rage deep within, a freezing vengeance that resonated something deep within Talon at his core. “But the Promised Day will be upon us yet. In time, Arcas, you will meet your end once again.”

He then turned to the wall where the hole of his impact had been created, casting his shadow over it so that a doorway into the Nyxus would open itself before him. “Fate may have decreed you our savior, but you made it our Destiny to Suffer.” He posed with a vengeful gaze cast beyond his shoulder to Talon, the menacing blade in his hand gripped ever tighter by the unshakeable resolve he felt even now.

“And I will see the world freed from that false Light you carry.” Even as little as Tiberius spoke something within him remained changed. However, it remained impossible to determine as he took the next step into the threshold of darkness, into the Void of Nyxus where the dark portal itself would swirl into a close behind him.

Talon remained left alone to his own devices now, no longer threatened by the dark forces at hand, but still guaranteed with a certainty...

That darkness would one day come to reclaim him yet again.

!	Message from: Chronicle
	This is a one-off Modbomb from me for this thread! Feel free to carry or close it out as you see fit, and I will happily review this for you when you are ready. Thank you for this as it was a very exciting moment for me to write out for you, and I look forward to seeing how the revelations play out in the plots ahead.