Talon had barely set foot inside the Outpost when trouble found her like a hungry wolf on the scent of prey. The air was thick with dust and tension, and the worn stone walls echoed the low murmur of restless guards and shadowed whispers. She moved with purpose, but fate had other plans.
It started with a collision—she bumped into a man clad in heavy armor, his stance rigid and his eyes burning with arrogance. This was Garrett, a man who wore his rank like a crown, convinced it gave him dominion over all he surveyed. He shoved her roughly, his voice sharp as a blade.
"You don't belong here," he growled.
Talon's eyes flared with defiance. She shoved back, her strength surprising him. A scuffle broke out, swift and fierce, but it ended with Talon shackled and thrown into a cold, dark cell—a prisoner in a place she barely knew.
The night around her was thick with silence, but it didn't last. From the shadows outside her cell, the sinister rustle of Plaguelings stirred—a pack of ravenous beasts creeping ever closer, their foul breaths whispering death. Just when their claws scraped against the cold stone, a faint shimmer flickered down the corridor. Her Lu-Qiri, a creature both elegant and fierce, appeared like a living flame. With swift, graceful strikes, it scattered the beasts, sending them fleeing into the darkness.
Moments later, the stunned guards burst in, their eyes wide with disbelief.
But freedom was fleeting. Talon was dragged before Garrett once more—his gaze colder, sharper. His questions cut like ice, probing for cracks, but she gave nothing away.
"What's your name?" he demanded.
"Talon," she said, steady and unyielding.
"Parents?" His voice dropped, searching.
"They're dead," came her blunt reply.
A slow smirk curled Garrett's lips as he reached out, brushing a hand through her tangled hair as if to test her will.
But Talon wasn't afraid. With a sudden, brutal kick between his legs, she shattered his composure. He doubled over, breath stolen.
"Touch me again and I'll give you something worse," she growled, eyes blazing.
Before the guards could intervene, Talon's fingers snatched a gleaming blade from the nearby rack. Steel sang through the air as the fight erupted in a flurry of movement. Garrett, caught off guard by her ferocity, soon found himself disarmed and pinned to the cold ground.
"What a shame," Talon spat, standing over him, "using your rank to seduce women. Pathetic."
Without a backward glance, she stormed out, uncertainty pressing against her with every step. Her boots echoed down winding alleys and shadowed streets until she stumbled upon the warm glow of Janzo's Tavern.
Inside, the air was thick with the smell of sweat, smoke, and cheap ale. The room buzzed with laughter and rowdy voices. Talon eased onto a worn wooden stool and downed a heavy mug of ale, the bitter liquid burning her throat. But when the barkeep came for payment, her pockets were empty—a harsh reminder of her uncertain place in this world.
"Hey," she called out to Janzo, the tavern's owner, her voice rough but hopeful. "I don't have coin to pay. Maybe I can work it off?"
Janzo blinked, caught off guard. "Uh… sure, I guess."
Before she could say more, a large, burly man slid onto the seat beside her with a sly grin.
"What if I pay your tab," he said low and rough, "and you give me this night?"
Talon's gaze flicked to Janzo, then back to the man, eyes narrowing.
"Would you care if your tables got broken?" she challenged.
Janzo shook his head nervously, avoiding eye contact. "Nope."
The man barely had time to react before Talon's fist shot out—smashing into his face with brutal force. He crumpled, stunned.
The tavern fell silent for a heartbeat, and then chaos broke loose.