Legend of Ransera

Posted: **Thu Nov 11, 2021 7:40 pm**

T A L O N

Arthel’s powers of perception made Talon curious. Just what could this man see? Where had he come from? What was his connection to the forces at place? It made Talon both cautious and at the same time interested in finding out more. His comment regarding Aoren made him blink. Talon knew of his bondmate’s past. He knew some of the burdens that the man still carried. At times, it was difficult to get his partner to speak openly about the life he had lived prior to coming to Kalzasi. Nevertheless, Talon still loved him and accepted that it was a dark time that his lover was determined to put behind him.

Despite the depth of their bond, there were still aspects of himself that Aoren still wrestled with. There were nights when he would find Aoren shivering, gripped by a nightmare. During those times, Talon would simply reach out through the Bond and push the terrors away, guiding his partner back to a restful slumber. They never spoke about his partner’s nightmares. During those nights, Aoren simply clung to him tightly. The next morning, he would wait for Aoren to speak but the man never did. Talon just wished he would share those burdens with him, just as Talon shared his own. He could only hope that in time, he would.

He nodded his head. He would set out to the Circle of Wandering as soon as his work was finished.

Talon stared at the hand for a moment, not knowing what to expect. He had acted on faith thus far, he supposed he would take it another step further. Reaching out he grasped the old man’s hand in a gentle grip and waited.

Posted: **Thu Nov 11, 2021 8:44 pm**

Despite his apparent age, Arthel's grip was strong, but not so overpowering that Talon couldn't free himself if he wished. Once they touched however that thin veil that hid the old man was pulled back for a brief time. His soul radiated out, echoing of a life long-lived and trials he had seen and overcome. Most striking, however, was the mark of divinity, or rather brands. Dozens of divine hands had touched this man, leaving their emblems or similar upon his flesh and very being. He was no god, but there was a nimbus of sorts, a halo of blue and green that shimmered and twisted over his brow. He seemed a man blessed by many, but upon his back was s jagged darkness, a curse so terrible that it threatened to bend the man low even as he stood before Talon. On his left forearm, there was a mark that hummed a familiar rhythm to Talon, a mark of Eminence.

"Long ago there were many children of gods. The divine bred with mortals often, and because of this demigods were not so uncommon as they are now." His voice was soft but carried weight as he looked over Talon's shoulder, at the shining nimbus of Talon's divinity. Reaching up Arthel did the impossible and touched that symbol of power, and a course of electricity would cause Talon's body to stiffen.

"The problem though was that with so many children some gods saw their offspring as nothing but pawns, and games were played with their lives. The kinder, more nurturing gods though took precautions. They gave their offspring protections until they came fully into their power, but that is never done these days." The coursing energy would increase, reaching a nearly unbearable crescendo before it faded completely. With it Arthel would step back, releasing Talon's hand and wiping the sweat that had begun to bead on his brow.

The nimbus was unchanged, every rune and mark of power in place, but now it was surrounded by a softer glow of green and blue. It dimmed the shine of Talon's power, but it did not hamper it.

"I am not a god, so it isn't perfect, but that should make you harder to see even when the shroud around this city falls." Though pale Arthel smiled, "It won't last though. Once you fully step into yourself the protection will break, and you will be a pillar of light in this dark world, for better or for worse."

Posted: **Fri Nov 12, 2021 10:13 am**

T A L O N

When the veil was pulled away revealing Arthel for the god-blessed man that he was, Talon’s eyes went wide. Somewhere within himself he felt a welling of emotion that bubbled to the surface. The echo of his eldest self remembering friends. Remembering enemies. Remembering loved ones. He saw the face of a man whose grin promised adventure. He saw the flaming hair of a young woman who seemed to radiate all of the intensity of a raging volcano. He saw a man who seemed beloved by the waters of the sea itself. As his eyes took in each mark, he beheld a face and the whisper of a memory of someone or something he might have once known. It was comforting. It was awe inspiring. It was overwhelming and Talon nearly buckled from the enormity of it.

When he beheld the curse that clung to Arthel, he could only wonder at what being would have dared inflict such a thing on a man who was so clearly beloved by gods. But he did not have time to contemplate it.

Talon stiffened as Arthel touched the nimbus of his divinity. He could feel the jolt of electricity just as clearly as though he had been shocked by a stormgem. His muscles tightened and twitched as he struggled not to flinch away from the power coursing through him. He focused on what Arthel was saying even as his wings shuddered at the force of the energy wrapping around him. It bubbled into his skin, coiled into his veins and then with a shocking abruptness, it was gone. Talon stumbled, catching himself on the edge of his desk. He was breathing more rapidly. His chest rising and falling as he examined himself mentally. Something presented itself in his mind. The fuzzy edges of a memory that he could not quite make out. But he could feel it.

“Arthel…” He whispered the old man’s name. Looking into those blue eyes, Talon studied him. “I know you.”

He had so many questions. All of them plainly in his face and his eyes. For some reason however, he could not bring himself to speak them. Steadying himself, Talon rose to his feet, catching his breath.

“Thank you.” He did not know what else to say. Arthel’s words carried many omens. More than ever, Talon realized he had much to prepare for. Perhaps too much.

Posted: **Fri Nov 12, 2021 10:56 am**

Arthel's smile grew wider as he heard Talon's words. With a flick of his wrist, the pipe vanished in a pocket, and the man stood straight and slapped a fist over his heart in a crisp salute.

"I am Arthel Greymon, of House Greymon, the last of the Justicar of Tirin. I fought in the final battle when the Dawnmartyr were still whole. I am the last of my line, keeper of the silver sands from the banks of Loch Nurin. Friend of Dragons, slayer of the Crimson Duke, and humble old man far too old for adventuring."

For just a moment the old Arthel seemed to fade and vanish. In his place stood a young man in embossed silvery-blue armor with a long, wingless dragon wrapping his chest and waist. His faceless helm showed a smiling, eager face that spoke of loyalty, compassion, and determination. At his waist was a sword of green and blue that hummed with power. Then as quick as it had come, the vision faded and Arthel lowered himself into a final bow.

"We will meet again. I have seen the path you must walk, and ours shall intersect twice more. At that time I will tell you my story." He straightened and turned away, passing a wave over his shoulder as he walked toward the window, "Until then be safe young demigod."

With a snap of his fingers, the world rippled once more, and a knock came at Talon's door. The servant from before looked in, inquiring if Talon was certain he did not need anything else. When he looked back Arthel would be gone, with no trace left to suggest he was ever there.

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Legend of Ransera

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