To Serve Noxus
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Talon is in a rather unique position when it comes to Runeterra and Noxus. Most other Noxian champions are self-made warriors (Darius, Draven, Katarina to an extent) liars (LeBlanc, Swain, Elise), or exiled (Riven, Kled, Urgot). Talon, however, is a loyal servant to a noble, which gives him a unique perspective on the goings-on of the nobility and those below.
For this short, I'd like to focus on that aspect of his character.
For this short, I'd like to focus on that aspect of his character.
Replies
905 words
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The sound of flesh on stone reverberated for only a moment before fading from the alleyway, but in Talon’s ears it echoed like cannon fire; he’d been sloppy this time. Only one woman remained alive; an auburn-haired noblewoman, one he recognized.
“Lady Delilah Carthage. Fourth in line to be head of your house, with two more behind you. Killing you will upset your father, but it will not disrupt Noxus’ shipping.” He pressed his still-bloody wrist blade against the woman’s neck. “I think we’ve established who is in control here.”
She started to nod, but the cold of steel against her neck was proving enough incentive to keep still.
“Wait… that cape… Talon?”
Oh. She recognized him. Unexpected, but that would cut down on the questions he’d need to ask.
She grinned wide. “Oh, I see now; Lord DeCouteau’s little pet street rat has come to play.”
Talon’s wrist blade pressed against her cheek, his expression unchanging. “Not a fan of your lip. Perhaps I should slice it off.”
She went very still. Good, she could learn. A rare sight among nobles. “What do you want to know?”
“Lady Cassiopeia DeCouteau. She should have returned by now.” Delilah said nothing, so he continued. “You will tell me where she went.”
Delilah blinked twice, genuine confusion on her face. “I… don’t you know? You’re part of her house.”
Talon’s blade pressed down, just enough to draw blood. This time, Delilah ignored it.
“…You don’t.” A sly grin crossed her face. “Some servant you are.”
Talon said nothing. The truth was that Cassiopeia had left without telling him or anyone where he was going. He already knew that she had chartered one of House Carthage’s ships, heading south towards-
“Shurima.”
“I know that.” Talon snapped. “I want the name of a city.”
“Explain something to me.” Delilah’s grin grew wider. “If you don’t know where she is what makes you so sure she’s alive? Why even look for her like this?”
“The name of the city. And where she went after that, if you know.”
“Feh. Weakling. No true Noxian would ever waste his time on a lost ca-”
Talon’s arms both moved, too quickly for the eye to track. Shurikens slashed open the necks of the two men sneaking behind him, and they fell harder than stone. Delilah’s throat spilled her blood all across Noxus Prime’s cobblestones, and she fell to her knees. Pure shock was plastered on her face as she coughed, looking up at him.
“Their attempts at stealth offended my ears. You’re avoiding the question because you don’t know the answer either.” Talon growled, voice cold as ice. “This is a waste of my time.”
And with that, the assassin was gone. Lady Delilah Carthage exhaled her last, and blood flowed through the street.
-
Talon stayed perched on Noxus’ rooftops, contemplating Delilah’s words.
Why even look for her?
… It was a good question.
Talon had been trying to find Cassiopeia’s trail for about a month now. General DeCouteau’s trail had long since grown cold, but he had searched for the man until he realized Cassiopeia was missing. Then he’d searched for her, too.
Demacian propaganda aside, Noxians were known for individualism and personal strength. No one cared who you were or where you’d come from; if you were strong, you were welcome. Talon was strong, and so he could do as he pleased.
The downside to this idea was that the weak thought themselves strong because they lived in Noxus. Like Delilah.
Talon remembered what it was like, once, to be like her; to be solely concerned with what he wanted. He’d been a street urchin, no more than a rat with a knife. That rat had bitten and clawed more than a few “Noxians” that dared try his luck against him, and taken every last scrap of gold or food he wanted. With every fight, Talon had grown more and more bored. Not even the Noxians sent to “recruit him” had been able to match his blade.
Then one day, Talon had met a man that had managed to best him in every way at his own game. DeCouteau had matched him blow for blow, blade to blade, always just a bit too fast for a young Talon. Never before had he fought someone so skilled, someone who could get his very blood pumping. And yet, even then, Talon could tell the general was holding back. DeCouteau could have ended him, and yet he wanted only to recruit him.
Sure, Cassiopeia had probably died in Shurima. Katarina, hot-blooded witch that she was, had her own missions to complete beyond Noxus Prime. But the lord of his house had been very adamant:
“Serve my girls, and you serve my house,” DeCouteau had said, “Serve my house, and you serve me.”
Talon leaped into the air. He landed on the next building, making his way along the roofs of Noxus Prime.
What people like Lady Carthage missed were that there were many ways to be strong. She had called him a pet, but a pet grows weak, selfish and indolent. Much like her. He was no pet; he was a servant. A servant toils forever to aid another, and in so doing, becomes stronger.
“Serve my house, and you serve me.”
He searched for DeCouteau – both the Lady and the General – because there was only one man he would ever call ‘master’.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Please be harsh, it's the only way I'll learn.
Was it your intention to show that Talon did not, in fact, have any control over the situation? Because that's what I'm reading, and I like it.
As if to say that, in the end, even an assassin holding a Noxian noble's very life in their hands is still not taken seriously.
No matter who Talon serves, he's still NOT them...not even close. So, he remains very much an outsider.
Honestly, I don't see anything egregiously wrong enough here to warrant a 'harsh' criticism... x]
I gueeeess one thing I could suggest - an ultimately petty structural nitpick - is that you look at where ever you wrote a semi-colon and see if there aren't other options available.
For example, I see in the first paragraph:
Would be more impactful and flow better if you instead separated it like so (with minor descriptive edits):
He’d been sloppy this time.
...and continue from there.
A brief, isolated sentence is much more pronounced in the eyes of the reader, no?
Overall, though, just keep doing what you've been doing!
In regards to Talon's control over the situation: I honestly hadn't meant it to come across that way, no, but I do like your reading of the situation. Her growing confidence was meant to show she was slipping into old habits to look impressive to her followers. Namely, the two sneaking up behind Talon. (That's not very clear on the first read-through, which is kind of a problem, but I like it as a minor detail regardless)
He's part of a noble house, sure, but Talon's an assassin that relies heavily on acrobatics, parkour and single-target assassination, so his deeds aren't as well known as a more direct fighter like, say, Sion, or even a more glory-hungry killer like Katarina. Talon's the guy you send when you want to make sure the body's never found, Kat's the girl you send when you want everyone to know it was you, Sion's who you send when you want a trail of bodies. In addition, the few who know Talon's name and appearance likely know that he wasn't born a noble, he started as a street rat. These two facts combine to make Talon someone that Noxians like Lady Carthage consider far, FAR beneath them.
I also like to think Talon deliberately encourages this attitude.
"If they don't think I'm good enough for 'em, fine by me. Makes my job easier."
Again, please be harsh with me so I may learn.
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Rough 2
917 words
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The sound of flesh on stone reverberated for only a moment before fading into the night, but in Talon’s ears it echoed like cannon fire in the alleyway.
He’d been sloppy this time. With that much noise, he was pressed for time. Only one person remained alive: an auburn-haired noblewoman, one he recognized.
“Lady Delilah Carthage. Fourth in line to be head of your house, with two more behind you. Killing you will upset your father, but not Noxus’ shipping.” He pressed his still-bloody wrist blade against the woman’s neck. “I think we’ve established who is in control here.”
She started to nod, but the cold of steel against her neck was proving enough incentive to keep still.
“Wait… a split cape, with knives on the ends… Talon?”
Oh, she recognized him. Unexpected, but good. That would cut down on the questions he’d need to ask.
She grinned wide. “Oh, I see now. Lord DeCouteau’s little pet street rat has come to play.”
Talon’s wrist blade pressed against her cheek, his expression unchanging. “Not a fan of your lip. Perhaps I should slice it off.”
She went very still. Good, she could learn. A rare sight among nobles. “What do you want to know?” She gulped.
“Cassiopeia DeCouteau should have returned by now.” Talon growled. Delilah said nothing, so he continued. “You will tell me where she went.”
Delilah blinked twice, genuine confusion on her face. “… don’t you know? You work for her house.”
Talon’s blade pressed down just enough to draw blood. This time, Delilah ignored it.
“…You don’t.” A sly grin crossed her face. “Some servant you are.”
Talon said nothing. Cassiopeia had left without telling him or anyone where she was going. He already knew that she had chartered one of House Carthage’s ships, heading south towards-
“Shurima.”
“I know that.” Talon snapped. “What part of Shurima?”
Delilah’s grin grew wider. “Explain something to me. If you don’t know where she is what makes you so sure she’s alive? Why even look for her like this?”
“The name of the city. And where she went after that, if you know.”
“Weakling. No true Noxian would ever waste his time on a lost cau-”
Talon’s arms both moved, too quickly for the eye to track. Shurikens slashed open the necks of the two men sneaking up behind him, and they fell hard onto the stone. Delilah’s throat spilled her blood all across Noxus Prime’s cobblestones, and she fell to her knees. Pure shock was plastered on her face as she coughed, looking up at him.
“Their attempts at stealth offended my ears.” Talon growled, voice cold as ice. “You’re avoiding the question because you don’t know the answer either. This is a waste of my time.”
With that, the assassin was gone. Lady Delilah Carthage exhaled her last, and blood flowed through the street.
-
Talon stayed perched on Noxus’ rooftops, contemplating Delilah’s words.
Why even look for her?
… It was a good question.
Talon had been trying to find Cassiopeia’s trail for about a month now. General DeCouteau’s trail had long since grown cold, but he had searched for the man until he realized Cassiopeia was missing. Then he’d searched for her, too.
Demacian propaganda aside, Noxians were known for their brutal individualism and personal strength. No one cared who you were, what you were or where you’d come from: if you were strong, you were welcome. Talon was strong, and so he could do as he pleased. The downside to this idea was that the weak thought themselves strong because they lived in Noxus.
Like Delilah.
Talon remembered what it was like to be like her: a man solely concerned with what he wanted, as Noxians often were. He’d been a street urchin, no more than a rat with a knife. That rat had bitten and clawed more than a few “Noxians” that dared try his luck against him, and taken every last scrap of gold or food he wanted. With every fight, Talon had grown more and more bored. Not even the Noxians sent to “recruit” him had been able to match his blade.
Then Talon had met a man that had managed to best him in every way at his own game. DeCouteau had matched him blow for blow, blade to blade, always just a bit too fast for a young Talon. Never before had he fought someone so skilled, someone who could get his very blood pumping. And yet, even then, Talon could tell the general was holding back. DeCouteau could have ended him, and yet he wanted only to recruit him.
Sure, Cassiopeia had probably died in Shurima and this search would never yield fruit. But the lord of his house had been very adamant:
“Serve my girls, and you serve my house,” DeCouteau had said, “Serve my house, and you serve me.”
Talon leapt into the air. He landed on the next building, making his way along the roofs of Noxus Prime.
What people like Lady Carthage missed were that there were many ways to be strong. She had called him a pet, but a pet grows weak, selfish and indolent. Much like her. He was no pet, he was a servant. A servant toils to aid another, and in so doing, becomes stronger. As a Noxian should.
“Serve my house, and you serve me.”
He searched for DeCouteau – both the Lady and the General – because there was only one man he would ever call ‘master’.
-"That would cut down on the questions he'd need to ask" doesn't make a whole lot of sense in this context; Delilah knowing who her attacker is wouldn't change the questions TALON would be asking.
-Title added - "To Serve Noxus"
-Rearranged some lines on page 3.
-Word count: 965
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To Serve Noxus
The sound of flesh on stone reverberated for only a moment before fading into the night, but in Talon’s ears it echoed like cannon fire in the alleyway.
He’d been sloppy this time. With that much noise, he was pressed for time. Only one person remained alive: an auburn-haired noblewoman, one he recognized.
“Lady Delilah Carthage. Fourth in line to be head of your house, with two more behind you. Killing you will upset your father, but not Noxus’ shipping.” He pressed his still-bloody wrist blade against the woman’s neck. “I think we’ve established who is in control here.”
She started to nod, but the cold of steel against her neck was proving enough incentive to keep still.
She blinked twice, realization creeping into her eyes. “Wait… a split cape, with knives on the ends… Talon?”
Oh, she recognized him. Unexpected, but not bad. She would know better than to screw with him.
She grinned wide. “Oh, I see now. Lord DeCouteau’s little pet street rat has come to play.”
Or perhaps not. Talon’s wrist blade pressed against her cheek, his expression unchanging. “Not a fan of your lip. Perhaps I should slice it off.”
She went very still. Good, she could learn. A rare sight among nobles, even Noxian ones. “What do you want to know?” She gulped.
“Cassiopeia DeCouteau should have returned by now.” Talon growled. Delilah said nothing, so he continued. “You will tell me where she went.”
Delilah blinked twice, genuine confusion on her face. “… don’t you know? You work for her house.”
Talon’s blade pressed down just enough to draw blood. This time, Delilah ignored it.
“…You don’t.” She glanced behind Talon, and a sly grin crossed her face.
Talon said nothing. Cassiopeia had left without telling him or anyone where she was going. He already knew that she had chartered one of House Carthage’s ships, heading south towards-
“Shurima.”
“I know that.” Talon snapped. “What part of Shurima?”
“Some servant you are.” Delilah’s grin grew wider. “Explain something to me. If you don’t know where she is what makes you so sure she’s alive? Why even look for her like this, and make an enemy of my house?”
“The name of the city. And where she went after that, if you know.”
“Weakling. No true Noxian would ever waste his time on a lost cau-”
Talon’s arms moved as one, too quickly for the eye to track. Shurikens slashed open the necks of the two men sneaking up behind him, and they fell hard onto the stone. Delilah’s throat spilled her blood across Noxus Prime’s cobblestones, and she fell to her knees. Pure shock was plastered on her face as she coughed, looking up at him.
“Their attempts at stealth offended my ears.” Talon growled, voice cold as ice. “You’re avoiding the question because you don’t know the answer either. This is a waste of my time.”
With that, the assassin was gone. Lady Delilah Carthage exhaled her last, and blood flowed through the street.
-
Talon stayed perched on Noxus’ rooftops, contemplating Delilah’s words.
Why even look for her?
… It was a good question, one he had come back to often over the last month.
He had been trying to find Cassiopeia’s trail for about a month now. General DeCouteau’s trail had long since grown cold, but he had searched for the man until he realized Cassiopeia was missing. Then he’d searched for her, too.
Most Noxians in his position would have simply abandoned
Demacian propaganda aside, Noxians were known for their brutal individualism and personal strength. No one cared who you were, what you were or where you’d come from: if you were strong, you were welcome. Talon was strong, and so he could do as he pleased. The downside to this idea was that the weak thought themselves strong because they lived in Noxus.
Like Delilah.
Talon remembered what it was like to be like her: a man solely concerned with what he wanted, as Noxians often were. He’d been a street urchin, no more than a rat with a knife. That rat had bitten and clawed more than a few “Noxians” that dared try his luck against him, and taken every last scrap of gold or food he wanted. With every fight, Talon had grown more and more bored. Not even the Noxians sent to “recruit” him had been able to match his blade.
Then Talon had met a man that had managed to best him in every way at his own game. DeCouteau had matched him blow for blow, blade to blade, always just a bit too fast for a young Talon. Never before had he fought someone so skilled, someone who could get his very blood pumping. And yet, even then, Talon could tell the general was holding back. DeCouteau could have ended him, and yet he wanted only to recruit him.
Sure, Cassiopeia had probably died in Shurima and this search would never yield fruit. But the lord of his house had been very adamant:
“Serve my girls, and you serve my house,” DeCouteau had said, “Serve my house, and you serve me.”
Talon leapt into the air. He landed on the next building, making his way along the roofs of Noxus Prime.
What people like Lady Carthage missed were that there were many ways to be strong. She had called him a pet, but a pet grows weak, selfish and indolent. Much like her. He was no pet, he was a servant. A servant toils to aid another, and in so doing, becomes stronger. As a Noxian should.
“Serve my house, and you serve me.”
He searched for DeCouteau – both the Lady and the General – because there was only one man he would ever call ‘master’.
Wish me luck.