Legend of Ransera

Posted: **Thu Jul 28, 2022 8:24 am**

44th of Searing, 122 AS

Late afternoon light filtered through the stained glass window at Talon's back. Ever since the 34th, there was a heaviness that had settled over the tower and its inhabitants. His Kathar guard, once fewer immediately after the storm, was now at full strength again but their eyes held a hardness that was lacking before. They stood more erect, eyes cold as ice, and if they were stoic before they were all but statues to Talon now. As if they could not look at Talon, as if they would not breathe in his presence. Like something else held them in place besides muscle and blood.

Archbishop Franz had been noticeably absent the past 10 days. The servants still brought food and water, from time to time the Matchmaker would come by, and his daily inscriptions happened like clockwork, but the Archbishop himself had not been seen since before the storms. Until today.

The sounds of heavy doors opening were followed by the familiar tap of a cane on stone. Franz stepped out from around a pillar, the usual friendly smile on his lips. His limp was a bit more prominent, and when he sat in the chair another boy in robes brought he gently rubbed at his left knee as if it pained him.

"Youth is always squandered. It is a shame that us mortals never fully appreciate a body without aches until after we are old and grey." he chuckled, "But I suppose you will never understand something like aging. That is for lesser creatures."

His eyes scanned the room, lingering on the still open box that contained the unfinished chest piece. One eye twitched almost imperceptibly before he refocused on Talon.

"We are nearly halfway through Searing, and yet very little progress has been made. Tell me, why is it you resist? We have been more than reasonable, and our expectations are simple. Complete the armor and put it on. Then you will be freed from this place, you will be returned to the Kathar you love who is waiting for you even now." The cane held loosely in his hand was suddenly grabbed tightly in boney fingers, "Why must you prolong your own suffering? The suffering of others? Why will you not do as we ask?"

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Posted: **Thu Jul 28, 2022 9:56 am**

T A L O N

Talon knelt upon the cold hard stone of the chapel floor. His head hung as though he had little strength to lift it. The inscriptions had been cut deeper in days of late. That did not surprise him but it was no less daunting in its pain. His chains had been pulled taut so that he had very little room to maneuver within his circle prison. He had been expecting this. They both had. The moment Aoren had urged him to make use of that brief moment of freedom, they both knew the consequences of doing so. He had seen and learned much in but a few minutes. It had cost him. It had cost them both.

Now the Kathar guards were returned in full force, the stoicism from before seemed a quiet comfort compared to the ice cold statues that stood watch now. He had his suspicions as to why they showed decidedly less personality and humanity but he kept such thoughts to himself. The simple mat he had been allowed had been stripped away. He had been thrust back into sleeping on the hard stone whenever and however he could. Weariness plucked at him but for some time now, his resolve had been doubled. Before the storms, he had been considering giving them what they wanted. After them however, he had made up his mind to resist them at every effort. It had been ten days since he had last seen the archbishop. He quietly wondered what had so captured the man’s attention, it certainly could not have been anything good.

When Franz Kirscher took his seat, Talon lifted his head to regard him. His hair was undone from its typical ponytail. The fullness of a beard had grown on his face. He stared at the archbishop with a quiet steadiness.

“We both know that suffering would only grow should I bow to your request.” His hands clenched into fists. He could feel it on the edges of his memory, knowledge of what the armor was and what it was meant for. The phantom of that memory filled him with a cold dread. No, to don that armor was to doom himself and others to a fate of unspeakable horror. He would not willingly put it on. They would have to force it upon him.

“I will not complete it. I will not wear it.”

Posted: **Sun Jul 31, 2022 9:37 am**

Anger flashed and quickly died in Franz's eyes, replaced by something cold. Looking down at his feet his hands slowly unclenched from around his cane, and he sighed rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"For all your power, you are still barely out of your infancy." His words were followed by a deeper sigh, and when he looked up at Talon again the mask of geniality was completely gone. The lines of his face hardened as a frown pulled features downward in open disapproval, "Do you really think yourself so important? That your merger resistance does anything but brings harm?"

The question did not call for an answer, and the Archbishop continued, "Zaichaer has fallen."

He studied Talon's reaction with an air of indifference, and his next words held not a drop of emotion, "It is said that it was the doing of the Iron Queen who, in her madness, tore open a rift above the city and let the mists consume everything. Men, women, children... Millions died at her hands. Tell me, if you had been there, do you think she would have committed such an egregious act of genocide?"

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Posted: **Sun Jul 31, 2022 11:56 am**

T A L O N

“You must be suffering, Archbishop.” Talon peered at the lines of his aged face. They were deeper. He could make out weariness in the sunken circles beneath his eyes. The limp and his elderly commentary, all of it pointed to something. He did not know what it was but underlying all of this was an air of impatience. From the way he was less controlled in the expression of his emotions, to the clutching of his cane and the more incisive personal insults. This was not like other conversations. This one had an edge to it.

“Could it be that my meager resistance is wearing on not just you but another?” He arched an eyebrow. He did not know the hierarchy of the Inquisition nor anything about the societal structure of the Imperium beyond surface details. He imagined, however, that there was only one person who could wear Archbishop Franz Kirscher so thin. He was not in the mood to play the subdued and cooperative supplicant. It was clear to him that it did not matter. They would inflict pain and suffering until he was broken. So he would fight it with a bitter resolve at every turn.

At the news of Zaichaer’s fall, Talon was initially…shocked? Surprised, for certain. It was a mix of emotions. He had confidence in Kalzasi’s ability to defend itself but to hear that the City of Brass had fallen already? He did not know how long he had been imprisoned but it could not have been so long as to see the end to such a war. At what followed, however, he went still. He stared at the archbishop’s face intently. His words did not ring completely hollow but there was something there that did not quite sit right with him. He did not know what that meant but he trusted what he knew of his family and his people.

Talon knew his mother well. It was her, after all, that had been responsible for the majority of his education in things mundane and magical. He knew how she responded to grief and pain as well. Besides, what he had seen and felt on the day of the storms, from the eyes of all who were touched by him and across the Imperium, no. He did not believe his mother was behind such a thing.

“Is today to be a day of petty insults and baseless rumors, Archbishop? Here, I had come to enjoy our deeper conversations. Ones with actual meaning.”

Posted: **Sun Jul 31, 2022 1:01 pm**

One eye twitched at the insolent tone. It was all wrong. Talon's posture should not still be so strong, his back so erect. In those eyes where the Archbishop wished to see pain, and resignation, instead he saw a spark of... hope. It was disgusting, vile enough to make him sick, and his lips drew back in a sneer to show yellowed teeth.

"You are right, Talon Novalys. I have forgotten myself. The events of the past few days have... altered my perspective." The forced smile seemed to pain him greatly, "Why don't we take a different approach."

At the snap of his fingers, the Kathar in the room clicked their boots together, then turned to file out of the room in two neet lines with uniform precision. Another person in a dark robe approached, carrying a thin case made of old, rotting wood with rusted trim.

"Did you know, in the Empire, there are what we call the Imperial Relics." With some effort Archbishop Franz rose to his feet. The box was presented to him, and he gently caressed its lid like it was something precious, "There are six greater relics, and twelve lesser. Each was collected or created by the previous emperors in order to fulfill the Mandate. These chains which bind you is one of the lesser relics."

Opening the lid almost reverently the Archbishop reached inside and pulled out an item of glass with a spike on one end. He traced the delicate designs petals shaped from metal around the glass cylinder, eyes longing and then hardening before looking down on Talon.

"This is one of the six greater relics. The Spike of Argis. Its value is immeasurable, even when compared with the life of a new demigod such as yourself." His eyes returned to the syringe and snapped his fingers once more. The chains that bound Talon hanked him down forcefully by the wrists, pulling his wings taut and glowing with a soft purple light as they sucked at his strength and will to resist.

"It is a waste to use this on you. It will be painful, and it will mar what would have otherwise been a perfect transition. If only there had been more time..." True regret showed on the Archbishops features then, but not for Talon. Regret that their time could not have lasted longer, that he could not extend the suffering out a few more months, or even years. Regret that something so decisive had to be done... but sometimes you do not get everything you want.

"Consider this my final act of mercy, an irony I imagine coming from myself." Turning around and stepping closer he held the item in two hands, the spike end toward Talon, "There are powers at work here that you are not aware of. If you set aside your selfish resistance and agree to complete and wear the armor I will release you from these chains and from this prison."

He took a step forward, kneeling down to eye level with Talon, "After you meet with the Emperor, you will understand, and you will be freed. Your Kathar will be returned to you, and I will even personally remove his collar. You could return to your former life, and there will be no need for further bloodshed. I know it is difficult for you to understand, but all of this." he waved at the room, the chains, at himself, "Had to be done for a reason."

"One last time I ask you Prince Talon Novalys. Will you do what is right, what is best for everyone, and wear the armor of your own free will?"

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Posted: **Sun Jul 31, 2022 1:22 pm**

T A L O N

Talon clenched his jaw and briefly fought against the chains that bound him as they dragged him to the floor. He resisted for but a few moments before the power of the chains successfully won out and restrained him completely. He glared up at the archbishop with clear hate and revulsion in his gaze. His glare receded however, when he witnessed something that had never occurred before.

Watching the Kathar warriors file out of the room, he was moved to silence and stillness. His muscles ceased straining against the chains and his gaze fixed on the figure entering the room. When the vial was removed from the box accompanied by the archbishop’s explanation, a spike of dread filled him. The container was beautiful and crafted with such flawless precision that even without his Semblance he could tell that magic went into its creation. Combined with the archbishop’s explanation, that this was a greater relic, he shuddered to think what it would do.

If the chains that bound him were of the Lesser Relics…what would become of him in the face of this one?

A true shake of fear wound its way through his body but he steeled himself against it. Mustering his courage, he tilted his chin up and clenched his jaw.

“What you could have sought in peace, you have taken through suffering. There is no good in this.” He closed his hands into fists and met the archbishop’s gaze.

“I will not help you.”

Posted: **Sun Jul 31, 2022 9:31 pm**

"Suffering is required to make the necessary decisions." The archbishop said softly. The end of the needle sank slowly into Talon's flesh, in the spot over his heart. With a cruel smile, the spike was twisted, sinking deeper as a silver liquid began to fill the vial, "But I suppose that is a lesson that must be experienced."

There was no immediate pain. The spike was like a mild bee sting, sharp before fading to a steady throb. The silver liquid began as merely a drop, then a trickle, and then steadily filled up the vial. As it leaked out Talon would feel a sensation of lightheadedness, and then darkness.

The pain was too simple of a word for what followed. It wasn't pain in the physical sense, more like a sensation of steady numbing, like something was being lost, sucked away, devoured. The feeling of stepping off an unexpected ledge, nausea of turbulent seas, of life slowly draining out as the world became distant and numb. Cold ice in the veins that crystalized and then boiled, a thirst that parched the throat and hunger of an empty belly. Slow, terribly slow, seconds became hours became days, and then time lost all meaning.

Steadily Talon would feel parts of himself beginning to be stripped away. Memories of the past, thoughts of the future, emotions, rage, and disgust, all that made Talon who he was steadily being peeled back, exposing his naked soul to the light of the world in a way that felt raw and inexplicable. Memories that bubbled up were pulled away in a turbulent wave as everything was washed into a spinning vortex in his mind, and when he blinked again he was still on the ground, and the archbishop now stood over him with the relic now filled with silver liquid between his fingers.

"A waste." the archbishop said again, now looking at Talon, but instead at the item in his hands, "Suffering is what builds mortals up beyond what they were before, what leads them to the next logical step. Love, courage, hope, fear... These things have such limited effect... But for you, these things no longer matter."

When he looked down at Talon it was like he stared at an insect, and he shook his head sadly, "You poor, wretched thing."

Turning his back on Talon the Archbishop placed the vial back in its container and then clapped his hands. The chains which restrained Talon were released, and for the first time in months he was able to move... yet he couldn't. Or... he felt no need to. He could think, he could wonder, he could remember but... Everything felt so grey. Emotions were... muted, his thoughts slow as molases. His body felt heavy and cumbersome like stones were bound to every limb.

"Stand." The command resonated, and slowly Talon found himself rising to his feet, the body acting of its own accord. If he tried Talon could move his arms or his hands, but it was as if doing so was so terribly exhausting. If there was fear it was so small it was near nonexistent, if there was anxiety it was like a small flutter in his chest.

"Bring the supplies." Franz was still speaking, the Kathar slowly trickling back into the room once more. They carried supplies. Hammers, an anvil, items covered in glyphs made for the purpose of runeforging. Beyond them, a woman approached the archbishop, her eyes like fire as she spoke in hushed tones with broad gestures at Talon.

"We discussed this. Without passion, he will not produce, without desire he can't--"

"It will be enough." The Archbishop said, motioning for the box once more. He touched the vial, pressing a small button that caused the silver liquid inside the stir. In that moment Talon would feel a sudden spark of emotions, enough for a minor reaction before they were gone once more. The Archbishop looked to the Matchmaker, whose lips were thinned to a line now, "He will perform. Push the timeline up."

More words were passed, and with a final pitying look at Talon the Matchmaker turned and strolled out of the room. Franz turned back to Talon then, pressing the button once more and releasing a small trickle of Talon's self back to him.

"Complete the armor." It was an order, but it became something to cling to in the void that was Talon's soul. The archbishop approached, within arm's length, staring up into the eyes of the once defiant demigod, "Even suffering is denied you now. Will your hope last, or will it be put out like dying coals?"

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Posted: **Sun Jul 31, 2022 10:41 pm**

T A L O N

There was nothing that could describe what he was feeling. His eyes went wide as the needle pierced his chest and the icy cold began to pour into his heart.

“No! No!” This jagged cold was something he knew. It was a pain he knew all too well. Brittle memories of his slow descent into the dark void that nearly destroyed him filled his mind. He tried to thrash. He tried to move. He tried to resist. It all meant nothing in the end as the very essence of what made him, him, was sucked from the very core of his soul. He opened his mouth in a silent scream of despair as everything that him Talon Novalys, Firstborn Son of Savien, Prince of the Synnekar and Demigod of Justice, Light and Hope, was stripped away.

He fought desperately to hold on to any shred of himself but everything he clung to was simply drawn away into the mind-numbing cold that crashed through him. His memories of his childhood turned into a black foggy haze. His memories of everything that made him live with passion, kindness, honor, everything, became nothing but a cold void of drifting fog where all there was…was nothing.

Talon went limp. There were no thoughts. There was no horror. There was no anger. There was no despair.

He simply hung there, limp and without purpose. The chains fell away. Dimly he knew that this should have brought him relief. He should have felt joy. He should have moved and done something. He did nothing. He simply remained there on his knees. That was until the archbishop bid him to stand. The command filled him with purpose. It was something that filled the void.

So he stood.

He looked to the archbishop with eyes that held neither sparks of defiance, nor hope, nor anything. He simply stared. Would the archbishop give him another command? Would he give him something that filled the blank void with vibrancy? He did not know. He was not bothered by the lack of this knowledge or purpose. He simply remained standing. He simply stood. He watched the conversation between the archbishop and the Matchmaker. They were discussing something. He should have been interested in the conversation. It pertained to him. He did not care. There was nothing to care about. There was nothing. When the slip of himself returned for the briefest of moments, he stirred. He stirred with a flicker of horror that made a small gasp escape from him but then it was gone. He was pulled back into the blank void that had neither description nor anything.

The archbishop returned to him. He gave a command. It filled him with purpose. He clung to it. It was the only thing to cling to. He felt purpose fill him. He lived, he existed, he toiled only to surround himself with that solitary command. Wordlessly he stepped forward into the heart of the runeforging laboratory that had been built before his eyes. Two of the assistants hoisted the heavy armor onto the anvil. As his eyes settled upon it, knowledge presented itself to him. He knew he needed to examine the material of the armor. He needed to know its aetheric pathways. This was needed to follow the archbishop’s command.

As one of the assistants extended a pair of aura glasses to him, he brushed past them without taking them. He opened his eyes for the first time in nearly half a year. He should have been elated to be able to use his gifts. He felt no elation. This was necessary to complete his task, his purpose. So he would utilize it thusly. Gathering into his sight the full expanse of the armor’s aetheric make-up before him, Talon beheld an object of truly remarkable craftsmanship. He touched the tips of his fingers to the surface of the armor and stared at it as he sifted through the various layers of its aether pathways.

“Hammer.” His voice was lifeless, without inflection or emotion. He extended a hand and immediately an assistant placed the hammer into it. He zeroed in on where he saw the most promising point in which to weave his work.

Talon raised the rune hammer.

He struck the armor. The aetheric resonators of the runeforge began to flare with life as a true Master of the Craft began working. He began speaking commands to the various assistants circling him. Each order was perfectly timed. Each motion was without waste or ego. Were his domains not already chosen, it would have been easy to believe that Talon was a god of the forge. He worked with a precision that would see not only the armor given its completion, but would revitalize many of its aspects.

It would be, in a word, perfect.

He felt no joy. He felt nothing. He felt only the need to completely fulfill his purpose. It was all that filled him. It was the only thing that filled him.

He would complete the armor.

Posted: **Mon Aug 01, 2022 10:17 am**

The Archbishop's eyes followed Talon as he began his work, dissatisfaction written on his face. There was no sense of remorse, only regret that it had come to this. He looked down at the item in the box, once again longing for it, and yet at the same time discomforted by it. Suffering was what lead to greatness. Emotions, purpose, a sense of self was required for all great works. What this relic did was akin to murder, but true death would be a mercy.

"See that he has all the materials required." Franz said, turning his back on the sound of ringing hammers. Quick steps carried the man toward the door, his cane forgotten in his hand, "Fetch the Kathar. The Prince will need a watcher, or he's liable to kill himself without intention."

A small smile returned to Franz's lips. It was true, Aoren would help keep Talon from dying of lack of food or water, but there was another purpose in this. A warning, and an example for the future. The thought of the stricken look on the Kathar's face brought a spark of joy to the Archbishop's cold heart. A silver lining of sorts for a rather grim day.

The guards took their place once more around Talon, and people would file in carrying items or materials as the work demanded. The armor would finally be completed.

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