Talon Dossier – Zaryth, "The Unbinding Edge"
Weapon:Moonfang Saber — a single-edged, silvered blade forged from lunar steel, impossibly thin and honed to the point it can split hairs in mid-air. Its balance allows for direction changes mid-swing, making his strikes unpredictable even for seasoned fighters.
Combat Style:The Threadcut School — an ancient dueling art focused on severing an opponent's flow before the killing blow is ever necessary. Every strike targets weapon grip, stance stability, or the connective tissue of movement itself. Zaryth's philosophy is that a fight is won not by killing the enemy… but by unmaking them.
Signature Quirks:
Disarm Cascade – Once the first weapon is struck away, the cascade begins. Zaryth flows from opponent to opponent in a single continuous motion, stripping them bare before they realize they've lost their footing.
Phantom Reset – Uses short, explosive footwork to vanish from an enemy's sightline for less than a heartbeat, reappearing at their blind angle.
Sever Point – Strikes at specific points in weapons or armor to cause fractures, weakening them for the next blow.
Restoration Veil – Through a rare mana discipline, Zaryth can channel life-force to accelerate recovery in allies — sealing wounds, stabilizing bleeding, even knitting fractured bones. It is not instant, but enough to return a downed fighter to combat readiness.
Threat Level:Extreme — In single combat, Zaryth is almost impossible to corner without overwhelming numbers or perfect terrain control. In group combat, his threat magnifies — every ally he heals becomes another problem to solve.
---
The cavern they stumbled into was half-lit by the dim green glow of fungal veins in the stone. The air was thick with the iron scent of blood.
Malachi was the first to see them — the five surviving Talons from the canyon battle, now stripped of their armor, their bodies wrapped in fresh white bandages, lying on mats of woven root. Each bore the marks of the devastating assault they had endured from the four heroes earlier.
Standing between them and the intruders was Zaryth, his Moonfang Saber resting lightly in his right hand, his posture as unhurried as if he'd been expecting them.
"You came through the collapse," Zaryth said quietly, not as a question, but as though he'd already measured their path.
Gideon stepped forward, Kaelvryn's twin axe form morphing into its heavier combat mode — jagged edges glinting in the fungal light. "You've got five friends there who should be in graves. You pulled them back from the brink, didn't you?"
Zaryth's eyes flicked toward the bandaged Talons and then back to the axe-wielder. "A blade that only cuts is a crude tool. I prefer one that can restore what it takes."
Malachi raised his mace, Hammer Fall coiling faint heat in its head. "So you're a healer and a killer. That's convenient."
Zaryth's stance shifted — subtle, but enough that both men felt the temperature of the fight drop a degree. "And you're both going to find out that the two skills are not so different."
---
Gideon charged first — twin axe sweeping in a cross-cut that could have cleaved an unarmored man in two. Zaryth stepped inside the arc, Moonfang flashing like water. The clang rang out, and Gideon's short axe-half was suddenly lighter in his grip — a deep groove carved clean through the metal haft.
Malachi came in from the side, Hammer Fall slamming toward Zaryth's ribs. The saber caught it on the flat, redirecting the blow into the ground where the mace's shockwave cracked the stone.
No wasted motion. No unnecessary flourish. Zaryth's every movement was economy itself.
---
Halfway through the clash, Gideon noticed movement behind Zaryth. One of the bandaged Talons — Raviel, the speed-blade — shifted, sitting upright with a hiss of pain. His breathing steadied unnaturally fast. The pale glow in his veins… wasn't natural.
"Eyes on me," Zaryth murmured, catching Gideon's long axe haft with the saber's edge and twisting it until the warrior was forced to let go of one grip.
Malachi's eyes narrowed. "He's healing them while fighting us…"
The realization changed everything — this wasn't just a duel, it was a countdown. The longer Zaryth held them here, the more of his allies would rise.
---
Gideon adapted first — feinting a wide overhead strike before snapping Kaelvryn's second blade low for a sweeping cut. Zaryth met it with Moonfang's flat, but Malachi was already stepping in, bringing Hammer Fall down in a vertical crush.
The impact rattled the chamber, and for the first time, Zaryth gave ground — only half a step, but enough to show he wasn't untouchable. His lips curved in the faintest smile.
"You've learned to share the strike. Good. It will make you worth remembering."
Before either could answer, Zaryth slid backward toward the wounded Talons, Moonfang spinning in a loose flourish — the promise of a renewed fight left hanging in the fungal-lit air.
---
The scene shifts. Far below, in the narrower root-veined tunnels, Eliakim, Caleb, and Vaeryn walked in single file.
Caleb kept his bowless hands in fists, his eyes fixed on Vaeryn's back. "You've had plenty of time to explain yourself. Start talking."
"I already told you," Vaeryn said without turning. "I work with the elves… just not in the way you think."
"That's not an explanation," Eliakim said. His voice carried a controlled edge, his suspicion long past subtlety. "You engineered that collapse. You knew exactly how much stone to bring down to split us from Gideon and Malachi without killing anyone. You've done this before."
Vaeryn finally stopped, leaning lightly on his staff. "Of course. You think I've survived this long by letting my enemies dictate the field? The Talons were seconds away from forcing us into a kill box. I gave them a smaller box."
---
Caleb stepped closer, tension clear in his shoulders. "If you're not loyal to them, then why side with the elves at all?"
Vaeryn's gaze flicked upward, following the slow pulse of the root-veins in the ceiling. "Because the elves aren't unified. The ones you've fought are loyal to the Canopy's will — to Vaeryn's kin who believe only in sealing outsiders away. But there are others… factions who remember what the Canopy was meant to be. Guardians, not jailers."
Eliakim folded his arms. "And you're with these 'other' elves."
"I'm using these other elves," Vaeryn corrected without shame. "And they're using me. We share an enemy. That's enough."
Caleb shook his head. "That still doesn't make you trustworthy."
Vaeryn chuckled softly. "If you were smart, you wouldn't trust anyone down here — including the man who hides demonic chains under his sleeve." His eyes cut briefly toward Eliakim's wrist.
The silence stretched. Eliakim didn't flinch, but his expression made it clear the jab had landed.
---
"The others will hold," Vaeryn continued, turning back toward the path. "Zaryth won't kill them — not yet. He'll draw them out, test them, measure them. That's what he does. Which means we still have time to reach the castle before the rest of the Talons regroup."
Eliakim's voice was calm, but the undertone was sharp. "And when we reach it?"
Vaeryn smiled faintly. "That's when you'll see whether I'm a traitor… or the only reason you survive what's coming."
Without waiting for a reply, he started walking again. Caleb hesitated, then followed, his eyes never leaving the back of Vaeryn's head.
Eliakim trailed behind them, his mind already working through contingencies — for Zaryth, for the wounded Talons soon to rise again, and for the man who claimed to be an ally… but spoke like a chessmaster holding pieces no one else could see.