Hey guys, it's been a while since I've uploaded anything, so apologies for any poor grammar, or bad word choice. I want to take this story far, and chronicle the entire life of Talon through my own POV. Also, for those wondering, Talon is about 15-16 in this first chapter. This story won't be completely lore accurate in order to keep the story interesting. Hope you enjoy it, if not, tell me what I can do better!
Noxus; a place where death surrounds the weak in an everlasting veil. The harsh environment is the grave of many unfortunate enough to call Noxus 'home', and it is that same environment that boasts the ideal that "Only the strong will survive." At its peak, one might mistake Noxus for a much nicer place. Nobles and politicians live lives filled with wealth, ease, and most of all, comfort. But to anyone who lives day by day roaming the cruel streets; they know the truth of the unforgiving city. The narrow pathways and dark alleys reek of lingering death. Rotten food that would be considered inedible by most makes for a daily meal to many of the roaming peasants; murder, thievery, rape, vandalism; that's the norm in Noxus. It's a vicious cesspool of disease and filth, unsuitable for even the basest life forms. If you're unlucky enough to have been birthed in Noxus, you'd better be strong, or you'd better get strong pretty damn quick; because the only thing that awaits the weak in Noxus… is an early grave.
Talon, known by many, feared by even more. The teenager had made a living for himself by committing just about every crime in the book. He was a lucky one, he learned quickly that it was kill or be killed. Murder and darkness enveloped him like a blanket; they kept him safe from his demise. It was just another day for him. Only moments earlier had he slit the throat of a nobleman for his possessions, which he so foolishly refused to hand over. Talon didn't mind though; murder was like family to him at this point, it was the only thing he could rely on at any given situation. It would seem horrifying in any other place that a boy barely in his teens would be so accustomed to death already; but not Noxus… definitely not Noxus. Talon sat on the stone tiled road, and leaned back against an abandoned crate, surely long since ravaged for all its contents. The stress of Talon's weight against the rotten wood caused a loud creak to erupt for the joints of the container. Talon sighed, and closed his eyes; it wasn't often that he would ponder his own life, but there were times when he truly had to question what exactly it was that he was doing with himself. Where would this path riddled with death and deceit take him? And was it too late for him to change courses? Talon let out another elongated breath, and decided to not be bothered with such wishful thinking. He knew well that this was the harshness of reality. He had no dreams, no aspirations, just the constant fight to survive. At least, that's what he thought.
Talon awoke from his slumber, it wasn't ideal, but any place that allowed Talon some sort of comfort would suffice. Regardless, he couldn't exactly complain to anyone, seeing as he was so painfully alone. Perhaps this was the origin of Talon's cold blood, and quick acceptance of the slaughtering of fellow human beings; the fact of the matter was, he had never bonded with anyone. He cared for no one, and the feelings of others towards him were mutual. His coldness radiated all around him, and his reputation assured that very few dared approach him. Talon kept to his usual agenda; he wandered around the streets aimlessly, attempting to find something to occupy himself with. More often than not, that 'something' would involve either murder, theft, or a nice mix of both. What he came upon today though, was much different than anything he had encountered before.
Talon watched from the shadows as a heavily guarded caravan made its way down the street. The sound of wheels screeching under the pressure of the main wagon, and hooves of the horses pulling the caravan meeting the hard stone of the narrow passage was invading Talon's ears. He counted five guards accompanying the caravan, and quickly assessed that there must be something worthwhile on the inside. As was typical of him, Talon was determined to figure out what. The young assassin worked with incredible speed, pulling two daggers from his cloak and hurling them at the two men stationed in front of the caravan. Both daggers made deadly impact; sudden gasps where heard from the other three men as they shot glances down at their dying companions, all the while attempting to ready their weapons. However, these common foot soldiers were no match for the likes of Talon; though they most likely doubled him in age, their experience was probably barely half of the assassin's. Talon worked with unmatched efficiency, as he pulled out a hidden blade from his right sleeve, and went for the throat of the nearest target. The guards were no problem for him, their poor form, and clumsy movements were put to shame by the young man's deadly grace. Talon smirked as he wiped the fresh blood from his daggers onto his already visibly stained sleeve. Just then, the door of the mysterious caravan slowly opened. Talon's watched anxiously as the door slowly revealed more and more of the interior, creaking all the while. What emerged from the caravan was not at all what the assassin had expected. A man, much older than he, with a stern look about him was what stood in front of Talon. He had never seen a noble that had such a look about them. Talon's eyes wandered down to the man's hips, and stayed fixated on the sword that decorated his person. It was becoming more and more obvious to Talon that this was anything but a regular noble. It seemed like hours before the fierce gaze of the two men was finally ended by a deep and powerful voice.
"For what reasons have you killed my men, boy? It's quite inconvenient for me you know." Talon let the words sink in, this man before him showed no signs of fear; as a matter of fact, Talon wasn't sure if he actually had any fear at all.
"Isn't it obvious? I'm here to kill you, and take your possessions, fool." Talon retorted. He tried his best to appear composed, but he had never been faced with an enemy that seemed as truly unfazed as the man that stood before him. The man slowly began to unsheathe his sword; the sound of steel sliding against the leather sheath filled the air. The atmosphere become heavy and Talon became steadily unsure of his situation.
"It has… been a while." That phrase echoed in Talon's mind. He heard the words over and over. He caught a quick glance of his adversary's eyes. They were sharp, determined, and filled with experience. For the first time in a while, Talon felt a foreign emotion; fear. It was too late to back down though; he was already too far in. The hole Talon had dug was deep; deeper than he could bear. If he was going to go down though, he would do it fighting. He gripped his daggers tight, his knuckles turning white as sweat dripped from his face. The young assassin readied himself, and charged at the imposing figure before him. The last thing he remembered was leaping at the man with the intent to penetrate his jugular. Before he even had his wits about him, Talon was on his knees, cold steel pressed firmly against his neck. The assassin felt a small amount of blood trickling down his neck, and running its course down the front of his body. He couldn't remember the last time his own blood had been drawn.
"You have potential…" the man paused, "but you need to be refined." Talon tried to brush off this statement as a meager attempt at an insult, but something about the way the man had said it irked the assassin to no end. The amount of sincerity in his voice tormented Talon. He had spent his entire life on the streets of Noxus honing his skills; he pushed himself so far some days that his body would not even respond to his attempts to move. All of this was in the hopes that he would surpass all who stood before him; and yet here the teen was, on his knees, listening to a noble tell him that he's weak. The longer Talon let this thought linger in his mind, the more his blood boiled, until he couldn't contain his anger anymore.
"And just who the hell are you to tell me that I need refining? You're just some noble. You don't know anything of my hardships, of my life. I've gone through hell to get to where I am, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let some pampered asshole tell me that I need refining." Venom spilled off of every word Talon spat, he took sharp breaths, and underneath the cowl that usually hid his face so well, visible anger could be seen clearly. Talon half expected the man to slit his throat right there; however, the figure before him remained calm, as if somewhat understanding the things Talon had said.
"My name is Marcus Du Couteau." Talon had heard the name before. "With my help… you could become so much more." Talon once again began taking in all that had been stated.
"What are you proposing, old man?" Talon questioned.
"Either die here and now… or, come with me back to my manor, and learn what it is to be a true assassin!"