Talon was roused from his reverie by the need for food. Stomach still rumbling, he sat up in the bed of his room. All in all, the place was a comfortable enough place to sleep, though inadequate for anything else. Thinking back, Talon remembered that the Institute provided places to eat, though the food was never free. The payment structure of living at the Institute was interesting, champions and summoners earned so called "influence points" which could be spent on anything sold within the Institute. It even bought favors, and the more influence spent, the better the favor. For the more mundane amenities, the legal tender from one's home would be accepted and exchanged by the shop owners for, you guessed it, more influence.
Nothing was ever free from the summoners, they always played one angle or another.
Talon brought a gloved hand up to his face and massaged it, already weary of his new place of residence. "Never thought I'd miss the sewer," he muttered under his breath. Focus, food. Standing up and stretching some as he thought back to the diagram of the Institute Kat had provided him with before he went to first apply. According to her, Morgana's branch of the Sinful Succulence at the Institute was rather sympathetic to Noxians. And the food is to die for, Talon imitated Kat's strange emphasis on violent words in his recollection of her voice. Striding for the door, adjusting his hood to better obscure his face as he did, the assassin began the journey to see the fallen angel over a matter of food; unwelcome thoughts of his first meeting with the sisters Du Couteau filling the space in his mind.
Roughly 10 years ago
Talon found what had followed pledging service to the general to be only the comforting embrace of unconsciousness. When he awoke, there was a solid cot beneath him, which suited him just fine as a solid cot had served him well his whole life in the sewers. Glancing around, he saw only darkness, but got the sense he was in a cellar of sorts. He allowed himself a moment to breathe, shaking the sleep from his mind. Then he prepared to move, it would be best if he knew exactly where he was.
Coming to a swift stop, Talon realized his wrists and ankles were bound to the cot, allowing him enough movement to struggle, but not enough to actually do anything. Clearly someone was having their fun with him at this point. Drawing a deep sigh, Talon resigned himself to wait in the darkness, whoever it was that had tied him up wasn't going to get the satisfaction of making him ask who it was before they revealed themselves anyway.
More sensory details were brought to his attention as the time went on in the darkness. The space echoed with every slight sound made, this was definitely a cellar of sorts. The air was cold, chilly even to Talon's built up immunity to the elements. The wrappings were . . . silk, and of fine make as well, certainly sturdy enough to keep him from breaking away. His clothing felt . . . weird. Talon wriggled around a little bit, trying to focus on his torso and legs. Then he realized . . . there was no clothing.
Starting to truly wonder what would lie in store for him, he was surprised by the bright flash of light. Blinking through the haze of blindness, Talon slowly became adjusted to the light which had suddenly appeared. Recognizing the weight before his eyes started working again, Talon realized there was someone sitting atop his form, which was thankfully covered in blankets at least. Squinting up at them, he saw red hair. Then more and more of the person became visible.
She was young, just entering puberty, probably twelve or so, yet the typical look of innocence on noxian nobility's children was lost on this child. In both hands, she held wicked looking knives, both clearly designed for throwing based on the curvature of the blades, and both very well cared for. Her pale skin was framed by blood red hair, giving her a violent look even before looking into her eyes, which at first seemed harmlessly green, but upon a closer inspection revealed a killing intent that Talon was all too familiar with.
She stared down at Talon with those eyes quizzically, clearly just as unsure what to do as he was at that point. "Shall I kill you?" She asked simply. "I could, you know," she obviously taunted, wanting to see how he would reply, "Violence solves everything."
"Violence doesn't make you less hungry," Talon said carefully in reply.
"Why did he bring you?" came the question from the side.
Talon started to turn his head, but received a swift punch from his captor's right fist as he did so. Turning of the head was clearly not on the table. "Not now, Cassie," said the girl above him in irritation.
"But didn't you say you wanted to-," the other girl started to reply with a voice like the softest stream sliding across the landscape.
"Don't you see?" said the girl above him, "He's unable to do anything, we could do anything to him." She looked down at him again and gave an unnerving smile. "We could kill him, we could torture him, maybe we could play with him . . ."
Talon almost chuckled. "Aren't you a little young for that still?" he asked, rolling his eyes, starting to understand this was just some sort of hazing.
After a flash of steel, an icy sensation sank into his shoulder. Talon's left eyelid twitched involuntarily as the new hole in his body shuddered with the exit of blood. "Mock me again and the next cut is through your throat," She said as she glowered down at him. Talon simply stared back, this girl was an enigma, and a violent one at that.
"Come on, sister," said the other one, "We've had our fun but we were never going to actually do more than this."
The one above him snorted, spinning and jumping off Talon's now lightly bleeding frame. He followed her path and saw the sister, who was . . . . . . . totally adorable. The sister had straight blond hair and large blue eyes. Her tiny face looked at him with the countenance of an angel.
Oh she was dangerous alright, but in another way from the first one.
"I'm Katarina," said the violent one from across the now visible wine cellar. "And this is Cassie, but you'll only ever call her mistress Du Couteau," she finished for her sister, "And it would be best if you never forgot those facts."
Both girls turned and walked away, flipping some switch to extinguish the light as quickly as it had originally appeared. Talon was left in the darkness having met his . . . master's(?) two offspring, both being groomed for danger. Truly, the sewer had never seemed so peaceful. Grimacing from suddenly feeling the pain from the slice in his shoulder, Talon started to feel like a slab of meat. All the same, now he was alone again, but still bound to a cot, and that simply wasn't a living situation designed for the long term. Nature would call for him to relieve himself eventually, and nobody wants that smell in their wine cellar.
Then, without the aid of light, Talon could tell there was someone there. It wasn't the hair on the back of his neck raising, it wasn't the sound of the air echoing different, it was a strange itch that grew and grew in his chest, as if the very fabric of his soul screamed to him that someone else was present in the room. "Like it or not," came the generals voice in an annoyingly amused manner, "You'll have to get used to them, they live in the same building you do and I don't plan on sending you on missions for a few years until you've become suitably covert.
"So I am to be their servant?" Talon asked in irritation, such was not the deal he had agreed to.
"No," came the reply through the darkness. The slice of a blade through the cold air severed the bindings. "You are to be their ally."
Thinking back to the crazy plans Talon had witnessed Noxian nobility attempt before, he sure hoped "ally" didn't mean "brother".
Some months later
As cliche as it was, the days bent and blurred together to Talon's perception. Du Couteau was firm in his teachings, and they always came with a lesson to learn. They weren't the kind of lessons you learned in the way you normally would though. Talon found himself stalking the hallways of the Noxian High Command, dueling with up and coming hopefuls of the military, and once even abandoned outside the city-state's walls, forced to find a way back inside. Each day there was a specific thing to learn, a new habit to form, a great opportunity to practice everything he had ever known.
Talon certainly hadn't expected the young woman in the Noxian military to have such skill with such a large blade, that duel alone had taught him many things about the flow of combat, though such was not really his focus. Du Couteau seemed to produce more things for Talon to do that required stealth than that of skill with a blade. This was perhaps flattering, showing he respected Talon's earned aptitude at violence.
Or it meant he was beyond hope when it came to that.
Talon buried his face in his gloved hands. It was late and he knew he should be sleeping, getting enough rest to be able to carry out whatever was required of him the next day. Instead he lamented his change of wardrobe, still wary of the fine clothing that had been designed for him. Though the strings attached to the blades hanging from the base of his cloak was pure genius. As overly violent as it was, he couldn't wait to see how it would work.
Of course he didn't mind the gloves or the boots. Gloves were more solid to wear, less hesitation when grabbing something to steal or inspect in secret. They simply left less traces of interference and allowed for both more haste and less noise. The boots were insanely comfortable, also allowing Talon to create less noise from simply walking around. While he could hear the noise they did produce, he was relatively sure most would never hear it.
Drawing a deep sigh, the Noxian realized he was just finding excuses to stay awake. Running his hands across the now much more fine bed he rested in every night, he started to regret wearing the gloves all the time, since the fine silk of the bed sheets was almost certainly heavenly to the touch. Talon's room was next to completely empty of absolutely any kind of furniture, and would have remained completely void of any adornments without Du Couteau's insistence on the bed. "An assassin cannot stay light on his feet if they want to drag after a poor night's sleep!" he had said, probably in an attempt to teach Talon another lesson, one that currently escaped him.
If there was one thing Talon really had learned in the past months as . . . a student of sorts, it was that the general was always finding new ways to be devious.
A thump landed outside in the hallway of the Du Couteau estate. This was abnormal because every resident of the building made no sound when traversing any of the many rooms or hallways. Curious, Talon realized he was getting up to investigate. He padded his way over to the door, which opened with the greasiest of knobs and hinges, making not a sound. Outside his assigned room, there was a long corridor, at which he stood at the end of. At the other end of the corridor was the main entryway, random assorted rooms and other divergent hallways scattered between there and where Talon stood.
About thirty feet away, near where her room was, Katarina sat on the floor in a peculiar fashion. Although, it wasn't actually that peculiar for any other person in Valoran, only for that particular person. She was sitting on the floor, knees bent under her, dressy high heels poking out behind her. Above that was the most elaborate dress Talon had ever seen. It was white of all things, going well with her ivory skin framed by the ever presently blood colored hair. Her face looked weird as well, something was very off about it, though once again not for any other noble daughter in Noxus, just for Katarina in particular. She was wearing makeup, very unusual indeed. But the most unnerving detail to the tableaux before him was how she was holding the candlestick she had been using to guide her way down the corridor.
Her hand was shaking, Katarina never let a muscle do anything other than exactly what she wanted. Something was happening and Talon needed to find out.
He took a few silent steps closer, still mostly hidden by the darkness of the night. As he grew closer, he was able to see her eyes clearer, which were wider than he had ever seen, wide as someone who had seen their first dead body, though he doubted she had ever reacted that way to a corpse. The musty smell of old carpet gave Talon pause, an extraneous detail to remind him he couldn't sneak up on her more even if he tried. Then he shrugged, any excuse to stay awake would do at this point.
"What are you doing in that dress?" he asked, trying to hide the curiosity from his voice.
The girl looked up, settling on the patch of darkness in which he resided. "None of your business," she said weakly, barely able to produce the vibrations in her throat to make the noise.
Taking a step closer, he realized what it was, "Don't tell me you went to the Snowdown party?" He hadn't even thought about the possibility she would be attending the academy for children of noble birth, somehow the connection just hadn't been made. Every year, the academy had a grand Snowdown ball, mostly designed for the young nobles to try and pick out their future spouses, such was the way of nobility. Even then, it surprised him that Katarina had gone, that anyone could've convinced her to go.
She put down the candlestick on the floor beside her, taking the arm to hug herself at the stomach. "Father said I should," she said in the same weak tone, content to sit on the floor in the same strange position. Then she looked down, either at her arm or . . . her chest? Had she been teased? Talon wondered why he cared. But there was . . . some strange reason compelling him to find out, perhaps simply because an ally should care at this point.
For lack of a way that included more finesse, he flatly asked, "What happened?"
"They called me a joke," she said, dam beginning to burst, "They said I was just a slut with some knives, that a whore like me should know my place."
"Are you?" Talon quickly stabbed, keeping her from going further, the picture was plain enough. In the sewers, all the rats were equal, regardless of gender, and everyone was as useful as they were dangerous. Among nobility in Noxus, there was a much different kind of mindset they subscribed to. Katarina looked up at Talon, a sudden anger burning behind her eyes. She had told him, she had opened up to him and he had thrown it right back into her face.
"Are you a slut with some knives? Are you content to be labelled that way?" Talon asked, hoping his point was clear enough. The anger in her eyes subsided, but only confusion replaced it.
"What?" she asked, bewildered, "No, I hate it."
Talon took another step into the light of the candle, casting a grim upward light upon his hooded face as he said, "Then prove them wrong, show them what true Noxian strength is."
Katarina once again looked down at the floor, his point now sinking in. She looked like she was about to say something, but he beat her to the punch. "Sitting around here and crying about it won't make you stronger."
"I wasn't crying," Katarina said, daggers spitting from her mouth. Talon swept his cloak around and made not a sound as he returned to his room, knowing the jab about her crying had refilled the anger in her gut that she ran on. He had to admit though, there wasn't much that would make Katarina cry, if anything at all.
Sitting down on his bed, sleep called to him, the comforting embrace of the incredibly fine mattress could not be denied. In his last few moments, he realized Katarina would be a fierce opponent someday, in her wake blood would trail, and she wouldn't fret a second about it. She was strong in Noxian spirit, a valuable ally. An ally he believed he had just made.
There was no hiding as he made his way to the Sinful Succulence. On his way there, he came across a single champion from the League, and that was Shen, who said nothing and continued on in the other direction. Talon found himself wishing every champion were just like Shen, tacit and uncaring.
Gradually the hallways became more and more crowded with summoners and the like until he found himself directly outside the unholy bakery. It was a simple affair, quite unlike the main one in Noxus, a typical front for a bakery greeting the potential customers with the tempting pastries kept safe by glass.
A bright flash of blue later, Talon found himself in a small room with two others in it. He gripped his blade tightly, left hand held at the ready to grab any weapon required. He realized the two were summoners, and then let himself relax somewhat before they were merely bloodstains on the floor. The room itself was dark, only one blue flame lantern lit the room from the door, no furniture adorned the space. Content to sit in silence, the summoners seemed as though they intended to do nothing until Talon spoke first. He decided he could win the waiting game.
Steady breaths marking the only passage of time, no more than a minute later the first summoner spoke. "Alright, Talon, this is your first match as a champion, and it's not going to be earning anyone influence, this is just a sort of introductory match where learning summoners will sit back and watch how champions interact with the summoning field."
He had no way of differentiating which summoner was which, since they both wore amorphous white robes that obscured their faces. As such, he found no reason to reply, his compliance with the rules demanded no communication with his summoner beyond what they would demand of him on the fields. Realizing this, the other summoner then continued, "I'm sure you're familiar with the classic five against five setup, in this match you're slated to play in the top lane for the purple team."
Wondering who his opponent would be, Talon gave the slightest of nods, indicating his understanding of the given information. But they didn't give him any extra information, apparently having fulfilled their duty to him as the flash of blue followed by bright summer sun showed.
Talon was in a circle of five champions, and he immediately felt out of place. Directly across from him was none other than the lady of luminosity herself, face shining with light and happiness but only hiding the obvious darkness directly beneath the surface. To Talon's right was Maokai, the randomly talking tree, and Sona, the mute musician. To his left was Ezreal, who was clearly relying only on his skill as he blankly stared at the trees surrounding the summoning platform. Perfect, Talon thought, A couple of demacians, an outspoken anti-noxus pop figure, and a tree, let's do this.
Turning quickly, Talon swept his way away from the four champions, wanting to avoid unnecessary communication with them. He had been told the top lane was his job to win in the match, that was all he was required to know. His dark clothing clashed with the bright summer air that hummed around him with energy. In addition, Talon could feel a strange presence attached to his person, but it went deeper than that, as if attached to his soul. Taking a wild guess, it was probably the magic of the arena, ensuring his soul wouldn't depart upon death.
Boots hitting the stone stairs out of the base, Talon realized how surreal it was now that he was in the arena he had seen so many publicly shown matches take place. Towering behind him was one of the . . . well, towers, sculpted with fine craftsmanship. Despite being destroyed in roughly half of the matches, it hummed with energy. Everything hummed with energy, it was unnerving how the stone and dirt themselves seemed alive.
Talon felt the earth beneath him give slightly with each step, clearly designed to be normal enough for any champion regardless of their origin. The brush that Talon saw on his way to the middle of the top lane was strangely hard to see into, as if there was more hidden by the leaves than just what the leaves covered. Remembering the utility therein, Talon kept on his path to the middle of the lane. After passing the last tower, he quickly moved into the brush at the edge of the lane that stretched most of the way to the other team's tower.
Upon entering the brush, Talon immediately could see through the rest of that patch of wild growth, confirming his suspicions about how that mechanic worked. Instead of moving to the brush on the other end of the land, Talon decided to play it safe, unsure of who his opponent was. And so he waited in the brush, taking in the thick, humid smell of summer.
Talon stared out of the brush, waiting for his opponent to appear, and he found himself surprised as the Ionian appeared with cautious steps. Master Yi cast an obvious glance around the lane, looking to see where his opponent was. Talon scoffed, clearly his opponent didn't know who he was up against either, the summoners were being very cagey with this match.
Talon could hardly believe it when Yi began moving directly towards the brush he was crouched in. Suddenly the way he was going to abuse the Summoners' magic became very clear for every future match he was in. As the Ionian began to step into the foliage, Talon lashed out with his right arm, swiftly stabbing his opponent in the upper thigh with intent to cripple his ability to run away. Yi reacted instinctively, sweeping is sword quickly doward, but Talon had already rolled to the right, using the force of pulling his blade away from the Ionian to propel him to the right. Striking out again, another wound opened in the Ionian's ribcage.
Yi gave no indication of feeling pain, instead immediately taking off as the best sprint he could manage towards the tower on his side of the lane. Talon anticipated this and took off after him, grabbing the edge of his cloak with his left hand and whipping it around in front of him. Blades attached to the end of the cloak activated, spinning out with incredible force, striking Yi's legs. Then the simple mechanical instruments at the shoulders of the cloak whirred, dragging the small blades back to their places at the bottom of the clothing with strong little wires.
The desired effect had been achieved, a necessary tendon in Yi's right knee had been severed, causing him to fall flat on his front. Before the Ionian could recover and use one of his tricky tactics to get away, Talon drove forward, stabbing his blade into the Ionian's back, pulling out a small dagger with his left hand and sliding it up into Yi's ribcage, and finally pulling out the main blade, and sweeping around the struggling to rise man to slice his throat. The exchange had taken about four seconds in total. Out of complete habit, Talon muttered, "Another body for the gutter."
Not even a full second later, a loud female voice echoed through his skull yelling, "FIRST BLOOD." Quickly wiping his blade on the grass next to the body, Talon stood and began retreating to his tower, certainly Yi's allies would be looking to gain revenge. Realizing the female voice had been only in his head, the Noxian began to see how the summoners had wormed their way into his mind with their magic.
Talon brought up his left hand and brushed the glove down his face. Open fighting wasn't Talon's typical style and he found himself almost shaking from the adrenal response. Less than a minute later, and a few deep breaths later, the little clockwork minions that were present in every match began to stream past him. Talon took sure steps toward where the minions fought each other pointlessly, unable to shake the feeling of how surreal everything was as Yi strode into the lane once again, though this time all of his body language screamed rage. Still, nothing notable happened, both parties content to stand away from the other and observe the minions.
Talon started to see similarities in the minions before they would break, a certain amount of cracks would always appear before they just broke apart into blue mist. Cautiously edging forward, he wondered what would happen if he struck a minion as it was about to fall apart.
Before he could though, a flurry of movement struck through the blue minions near Talon, as if a blur struck them down before his eye could comprehend what was happening. Half a second later, a deep slice in Talon's side had appeared, bleeding quite profusely, distracting Talon from Yi's continued assault. He was short, but the flurry of slashes came from all sides. In a last futile attempt to defend himself, Talon lifted his katar and frantically back stepped, hoping to at least live through the engagement. The clang of metal against metal rang through the thick, humid air, the last sound to meet Talon's pained consciousness before something incredibly sharp and fast touched his neck.
Everything stopped moving, the world was gray. Talon couldn't move, some strange disconnect kept him from even trying. It was like the world just floated away, or he floated away from it. His thoughts were foggy, muddled, hard to string together, but one thought struggled through the swamp of his mind to lodge itself firmly in his memory. The battle had been fast, efficient, and brutal, the Fields of Justice were as close to the Noxian ideal as anyone could ever get, and the chaotic struggle to win a fight with so many impossible to control factors would make everything incredibly difficult to handle.
A flash of light attacked Talon without warning, every inch of his body screamed in pain. Shivering from the excruciating sensation, Talon collapsed to his knees, gritting his teeth involuntarily. Unable to breathe, he remained incapacitated for what seemed like an eternity. Finally the pain began to subside slightly and Talon forced a ragged breath into his ravaged lungs. A new wave of pain accompanied the intake of air, but simply gritting his teeth more, Talon forced the air to remain in his lungs for long enough that he would survive.
The cycle continued for several breaths before his body became accustomed to being alive once again and Talon grew brave enough to open his eyes. Forcing them open, he saw nothing but a great light with objects within it, but his eyes weren't able to focus. The intense light slowly subsided and his eyes grew more adept at focusing. Across his body, the torture subsided in tandem with his ability to see. Blinking a few times, Talon found he was back at the spawning fountain from the beginning of the match.
Dying for the first time was every bit as bad as he had expected, and he didn't plan on having to do it much during his time in the League.
Author's Note: Haven't been around for FOREVER, but I'm thinking of getting back into writing so here we go. Please do review if you have anything to say or I messed something up, because that's the only way I can get better! Hope everyone enjoyed reading, more to come sooner than what appears to be my norm nowadays.
