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About The Hawk

  • Rank
    Junior Member
  • Birthday 01/01/1990
  1. “Very good.” The Hawk sneered as it turned around and reached into the box. Out came a capped and silver bit of metal. It smoothly removed the cap and faced Nika. “It pains me not to have the opportunity to practice on you, little thief, but if it means getting what my master wants without a chance for failure…” The sharp tip of the instrument glinted black as the Hawk stood over Nika, its shadow swooping across her as it loomed. With one swift and steady downward movement of an arm, the instrument found itself sinking into Nika’s skin with minimal damage. The toxin, identical to the initial one used, would quickly begin its work. “That is how it must be done.” --------- When Nika awoke, she would find herself unbound and in a cave devoid of everything. There would be no table or boxes of instruments-- only the blood, sticky and brown, coating the floor, and torches stationed in the room and the tunnels leading to the outside world. Upon exiting the tunnels Nika would find a brown mare tethered to the entrance. In its bulky saddlebags she would find her belongings, the note the Hawk read to her, as well as a final note in plain writing that simply read: Hello, my name is Oats. I am a very good horse. We can follow the path home together. I belong to the stables in Goldshire, and would very much appreciate it if you could return me.
  2. "If you do not return it, little thief, I will find you. You know that, yes?" The Hawk crouched in front of Nika once more. "I can track you better than you can hide. No shadows will conceal you from my eyes. Any friends you involve will die by my hands. You understand, girl?"
  3. The Hawk paused and stared at Nika while she spoke. "A very good question." It picked up a handful of the tools in the box, quite carefully, and reached underneath with the other hand, pulling out a sealed note. It slipped a finger into one of the edges as it dropped the instruments back to their place, broke the seal, and opened the letter. Scanning it quickly, the Hawk nodded and turned around to face Nika once more. "Dearest Nikaa... "Your amateurish ways have gotten you in quite the bind. Did you really think that I wouldn't find out who removed the Journal from my possession? You have five days from the time you receive this letter to return the journal. If you fail to comply, you will quickly find yourself missing a thieving hand or two. "I will be watching." The Hawk finished reading out loud and limped back to stand in front of Nika, holding the paper in front of her face so she could read for herself. "A journal, yes? Who did you steal a journal from?"
  4. The Hawk stayed crouched where it was, watching its words take effect on the girl. A low chuckle came from it as it held the saw in front of her face. "Now, now, Miss Davies, settle down. I must be careful with these tools. Flesh is soft and so simple to cut through. As you can see-" The Hawk waved its other hand around, indicating all the blood. "The effect is sometimes lethal. If you struggle, you will find yourself missing more than what is necessary." Standing slowly, the Hawk made its way to the table, setting the saw back down. The rasping tone might have been mournful as it continued. "So many avoidable deaths. A little jerk at the wrong time, and the knife slips in too deep." It wheezed a sigh. "And master will not be pleased when he does not get his belongings back from you, little thief." The Hawk stooped down as it spoke, taking a box from beneath the table and setting it on top. It opened the lid so Nika could see-- fresh tools. Hooks, knives, and twisted instruments whose true use could only be guessed at. All of them gleamed silver. "For you, I will make the cuts fresh. This is good practice. We can make the amputations clean, and they will not be infected, and maybe you will live." It glanced over its shoulder. "Good?"
  5. "Nika Davies," the Hawk rasped. Though a whisper, its voice carried through the cavern at an eerily high volume, granted strength by the smooth and curving stone walls. It paused, staring straight at its prisoner, making no movements. "Thief. Spy. You have made an enemy. You have stolen something of note from my master." It dipped into a slight bow. "And I am here to make amends on my master's behalf." The Hawk walked around the table slowly, so that it now stood behind so Nika had a full view of the table, the instruments, and the Hawk itself. Once more it touched a few of the instruments, before choosing one; a thin saw, caked with a sticky brown substance. A gurgling sound escaped the figure. "Many screams from this one, yes..." It murmured to itself and rubbed its fingers along the blade, forcing most of the blood to crumble off. Once more it looked to Nika. “Stealing.” The Hawk wheezed. “Stealing is bad, little thief. The punishment must match the crime.” It slowly lifted the saw, tapping the wicked ridges of the blade. “We must decide what is proper. To cut off your ears, so you cannot listen?” Ssssst. The Hawk slowly made its way around the table, boot still scraping along the ground. Ssssst. “Carve out your eyes, so you cannot watch?” It crouched carefully before her. “Where I come from, the punishment for stealing is to cut off a hand. That seems like a very good idea. Maybe even both hands, so you are not tempted to try again…”
  6. The Hawk returned shortly, with a change of clothing no less. Gone was the travel-worn brown-- in its place was fine black leather, covering the figure from head to toe. The mask it wore, while resembling an executioner's hood, was not entirely normal-- where eyes should have been, there was but a glowing red mist obscuring the only opening, little more than a slit, that could be seen on the entire body. The Hawk was human-sized but strong, possessing the build of one who had seen much battle... and bloodshed. It entered the room with a heavy limp, the right boot scraping noisily against the bloodied stone ground as it made its way to its captive. Sssssst. Ssssst. The pace was casual. Sssssst. "Awake, girl?" The voice was a somewhere between a hiss and a growl, and it turned its head aside to let out a throaty cough. Fists clenched, the Hawk limped towards the table with the tools on it. It took a moment, trailing its fingers over the various sharp edges and vicious points and staining its gloves in the process. It chuckled darkly, rubbing the blood between its fingertips, bringing it close to its mask and giving an audible sniff. Slowly, very slowly, it turned to face Nika. Its breathing remained audible-- unsteady, growing faster as it looked over the girl, drinking in her fear. Once more it laughed, before the laughter gave way to a hacking cough. "My last contract," the Hawk gloated with its terrible snarl. It looked around, at all the blood, and qualified the statement: "Or my last few, anyway."
  7. The second the dart hit, the Hawk took flight-- dropping down from the trees and landing hard on the ground, its knees buckling from the impact. The Hawk swore breathlessly as it regained its composure, and took off after Nika. Perhaps a cudgel to the head would have made the woman fall faster, but the toxin applied to the dart would last for several hours, and it was, in the Hawk's opinion, safer. Blunt force could cause serious damage to something as fragile as a skull. A small chase was worth avoiding the risk of internal bleeding. Murder had not been in the contract. The Hawk's long strides slowed as it saw its target crash into the bushes, making more noise than was comfortable. It glanced all around, its ears straining to catch the slightest sound that might prove a threat-- that might have been a sign Nika was not alone. But it seemed that there was nothing, and within moments, all that remained was the casual chatter of nature. The Hawk breathed a sigh of relief, crouching down and removing one of its gloves to reveal a hand with a pale, thick scar marking the outside as well as the palm, as if a blade had gone clean through. The Hawk took two fingers and placed them firmly on Nika's throat, feeling for a pulse. Finding one, the Hawk nodded to itself, and returned the glove to its rightful place. Bracing itself, the Hawk lifted Nika in its arms, grunting with the effort. Once more it looked around. It had to move fast. Elwynn was a broad forest, but it was only a matter of time before a passing traveller would find them. This was not a position the Hawk wanted to be found it. It turned around, moving carefully with the extra weight it now carried, and began to move back towards the road. Tethered to one of the fences was a plain brown mare, unburdened by armor; the beast would need to carry two whole people, after all. Wordlessly, the Hawk approached its mount and took a moment to place Nika in the saddle, keeping one hand on the woman's leg so as to catch her if she started to slip. Taking the reins, the Hawk lead the horse back through the woods from where they had come, stopping by a tree to collect Nika's belongings and strap them to the steed as well. With that taken care of, the Hawk pulled itself up into the saddle, wrapped its arms securely around the girl, and nudged the beast onward. -------------- Two hours had passed when they finally reached their destination. After tethering the mare, the Hawk lifted Nika from the saddle carefully and slung her over its shoulder as it walked inside-- a remote cave, surrounded by trees, and rarely ever receiving any visitors. Taking a torch posted at the entrance, the Hawk found its way through the winding maze. Only a few minutes and it reached a sprawling cavern. It had all been prepared for Nika. There was not much in the relatively well-lit room-- there were a few chains laying here and there. The ground was splattered with a thick and sticky substance. Blood, naturally; the room reeked of the metallic scent, so much that one could start to taste it. It was everywhere. A chair stood in the center; it boasted five, thick leather straps. The Hawk set Nika down in the chair and worked on restraining her. First came the arms; they were placed on the arms of the chair and firmly bound. Then came the torso, which was strapped in snugly to prevent too much movement, while allowing, at least, for a little bit of struggling. Enough to give hope, not enough to justify that hope. Finally, the legs were tied, and the Hawk stepped back to look over its work. Satisfied that the prisoner would not be escaping any time soon, it turned to a table standing directly in front of the chair. This table was filled with a variety of tools, all of them shining red with blood that could only be a day or two old. Some were sharp and others blunt, some curved and others straight, but each and every one of them looked to have a wicked purpose. Smiling to itself, the Hawk turned, and left the room.
  8. There you are... The Hawk froze in place, breath halting as it watched Nika brace herself against a tree to pull off her boots; the very same tree the Hawk was perched in. It made no sound, only stood in place, hoping that the brown clothing it wore would conceal it against the similarly colored bark of its hideout. But the target didn't look up. Alone. Unguarded and out in the open. A smile twisted the figure's lips as it advanced forward on the branch, lowering itself down until its stomach scraped softly against the bark. The Hawk examined its crossbow thoroughly before taking aim, considering what part of the body to hit. A slight breeze picked up, and the Hawk was forced to stop, eyes fixed on Nika as it waited for the wind to subside. The head and throat are too risky... the arms are too prone to movement. The breeze died down. There... Confident the dart would clear the clothing, the Hawk aimed for Nika's lower back... and... 'Click.' For just a moment, the birds stopped chirping.
  9. The forest of Elwynn smelled of upturned earth, still damp from the previous night's rain. The woods were lush and the birds were chirping, and a solemn figure in worn brown leather, and an effectively concealing hood to match, pressed itself silently against the thinning trunk of a tree. The figure's boots were firm on a branch several yards above the ground, and it watched, patiently, from above. A good hunter knew how to wait. One gloved hand held a small and plain wooden crossbow fitted with a thin bolt. It was more of a dart, really-- hardly lethal unless properly aimed, and largely ineffective against mail or plate. But the dart was not what counted-- the slimy black toxin its tip was laced with? That was what needed to get through. The moment it reached the blood stream, it would begin its work. Within a minute, the brief and spiking pain would give way to sleep. But there was also the matter of catching the target. The Hawk had studied its prey; it had circled and watched and waited, it had followed just from a distance until the moment would be right. Nika Davies. A spy and a thief. Rumored to belong to the Defias. It had not been easy. The prey was sneaky-- but the Hawk knew how to be sneaky too. Hides. Sticks to the shadows. Weapons: knives or a cudgel, possibly. Protection? The figure pulled its hood further down, bracing itself for the impact of the ground, should the target choose to run, and the Hawk be forced to follow. The Defias Brotherhood. Another rogue travelling with Davies? Possible. Be prepared for the worst. The Hawk's free hand drifted to the hilt of its simple steel blade, and slowly, very slowly, adjusted the aim of the crossbow. Come out, come out, little sparrow...