The Hawk's Legacy

[13th Nightingale]

My name is Urag gro-Shub and I am the librarian of The Arcanaeum at the College of Winterhold. I am a collector and maintainer of history in Skyrim and all eras of Tamriel. Over the years of reading and studying ancient scripts, tomes, and pages I have created a small compilation of similar writings involving the possible identity of a unique Nord. The name Hawk keeps coming up in multiple references as I dig deeper into journals, military reports, receipts, and other various forms of record.

The Nord man named Hawk has appeared throughout the ages since the First Era. Although there is the rare possibility of his Immortality, it is this Historians opinion that he bred a son every generation and this boy took on his name and skills. Eye witness reports of assassinations throughout time have depicted a tall masked man creeping through shadows having unique abilities of Conjuration, horrid poisons, an uncanny skill with bows, knives, great swords, even the testimony of his ability to fly.

One story caught my eye. During the Great War for Cyrodiil, of the second Era, it was recorded that a small but powerful group called “The Ebonhawks” laid waste to all who opposed them. The members were Warriors of immense strength, Mages of unbelievable Power, and Rogues that were rumored to be Ghosts. At the helm of this group was a black capped figure, a masked Nord with eyes as bright as stars. My evidence leads me to believe that this Nord was the infamous Hawk of my research. He would never appear during any council meetings for the Ebonheart Pact but rumors of his secret employment through Jorunn the Skald-King were buried in ancient text.

I've always wondered if he still exists, or maybe a descendant walking among us as a Dark Brotherhood Assassin or maybe even the Nightingales or the Thieves guild. All I have been able to gather is that he has never used his skills for greed or for strife. In his own way he has been honorable but extreme in the action of keeping his identity a secret. What is he protecting I wonder?

As every great Historian and writer should have a solid bibliography or reference sheet. Every page that I will display has significant value, so please view them with the utmost care. Or I’ll have an Atronach tear your limbs off a beat you to death with them.

Fall 4E 202

 

[13th Nightingale]

To My Queen Ayrenn Arana Altmeri,

I am writing this letter at the request of my captives. I march with my platoon towards the coast heading homeward to the Isle. It is my unfortunate duty to inform her highness that Fort Rayles has been claimed by the Ebonheart Pact. In the process the life of General Estale has been loss as well. We have sustained minimal troop casualty. I’m sure rumors of this battle will reach your ears before this letter will so please allow me to explain the facts.

The recent fall of Sancre Tor, Fort Coldcorn, and Fort Empire pushed General Estale to bring all forwarding patrols and supplies inside the walls of Fort Rayles. Scouts spotted camps of enemy troops moving closer to our position every day, a small force of Nord, Argonian, and Dark Elf soldiers. It was dawn when they marched to the ridge line of our northern hill. The horn sounded and our men arrived at battle stations ready to finally squash this advancing group.

A large armoured Nord lead the assault on our walls. His men roared as the stormed down the hill. Our men met them at the base of the hill and combat began. The General and I stood at the balcony of the main tower and watched as our men were tossed into the sky by this mighty heathen. The tactics of this small group were uncanny, how their Mages and Rangers destroyed waves of our men. The Nord sounded his horn suddenly and the enemy slowly backed up the hill. General Estale was instantly in raged calling them cowards and heathens. And then we saw him.

He was like an arrow being released into the air, his black cloak whipping behind him as he seemed to fly in the sky. He rose over the clouds, through the smoke and into the blue morning sky. It seemed like every man on the battlefield froze to stare at this black bird-man. His rise halted and started to descend. His legs pointed to the ground while his cloak now lifted behind his head. This man was going to land on the tower. He was coming for us!

Suddenly the man disappeared from sight before he would land. The next thing I heard was a soldier behind me screaming about a ghost. I turned to see the bright, blue, outline, light of the once flying man. He seemed Ethereal! Out of his cloak his hands rose, fingers tensed as if he was making claws. He pointed them at me, the general, and his ten guards. His form suddenly became non-transparent as bolts of lightning leapt from his hands, the arcs seemed to pass through one guard and leap into another until they were all chained together in one horrific storm. The lightning was so bright that the General and I covered our eyes. My red cloak, over my face was suddenly cut as a blade pierced it and lodged its self into my shoulder. I was incapacitated. I awoke moments later to the sound of General Estale roaring with anger speaking to this cloaked Nord.

The General was speaking to the Nord as if he knew him, with a blade to his neck. I couldn't speak; the blade that cut me must have been laced with a paralytic. Moments later the site of the Generals blood squirting from his neck was all I could see as I lie on the floor. The Nord walked to me, lifted me to sit against a pillar. He spoke to me.
“Your General was a murderer, a murderer with no respect for his enemies or even his own kind. You will return to Summerset Isle and report to your Queen about your loss on this day. Sound the horn of surrender, or your fate will be the same as your Master.”

The poison seemed to fade the moment he gave me the command. I thought of my men, the General, and my own life. I did as instructed.

“Who are you?” I asked the Nord.

He didn’t respond. All I noticed, as he bound my hands and walked me down the tower, was the emblem of a black bird on a pouch on his belt. He handed me to an Argonian he called Skies. The Nord spoke to his troops as they set a guard to our remaining forces. The Nord patted the Viking like Warrior from before on the shoulder and laughed, a Ranger that emitted an icy aura commanded my men to march out of the fort and to the South. As they walked a kind faced Nord woman in robes handed me this charcoal and roll of paper instructing me to write this letter.

We should arrive two days after this letter is received by messenger Hawk. As I walk, a captive among these black clothed men and women, I realized that they were The Ebonhawks; the secret force of the Ebonheart Pact. This flying Nord must have been their leader. Amazing how one of so much responsibility to his men would single handedly cross enemy lines and risk himself for the killing blow. How could this Nord have done the things he did? He flew higher and faster than a messenger Hawk, he became a ghost before my very eyes, he dropped my men at the flick of his hands and beat the General in armed Combat. He was a demon, spawned from a Daedric pit of shadow and pain. This man could not have been mortal.
Please look upon me with pity when I enter your chambers my Lady.


With my Deepest Regrets,
Commander Sondil Undilaar
Former Executive Officer Fort Rayles
2E 585

 

[13th Nightingale]

Bill of Sale​

Scrolls of Icarian Flight​

Purchased by Hawk Halcyon​

Purchased from Darhiel in Morrowind​

2E 584​

 

[13th Nightingale]

I remember the blood dripping on me was warm; it seemed to stop the nipping of the cold for a moment. Hawk was so heavy but I had to get him to a safe place. His weight forced my head down; my eyes caught the site of the red fluid melting the fresh powdered snow below us.

“Leave me woman,” whispered Hawk to me as we pushed forward.

“Not happening, love.”

We were in the thickness of the forest, no trail in sight, but I knew these trees, I knew this land. The wind was so loud but I could hear his heart against my cheek. His armor was made from thick leather I had made, from a bear he had carried home for dinner, one day. Hawk was so strong, he carried that bear for an hour bringing it to me to tan and prepare for meals, but all Nord boys were. He was only fifteen and he could hunt better than most men I have ever met.

I remember his hand dragging that long heavy blade through the snow. I asked him to drop it but he ignored the comment and ventured on. I had to carry him, like he carried the bear. I forced my head up and saw our cabin.

“Almost there … hold on.”

I turned and saw the light piercing through the trees, the yellow light of torches. I was wrong, the wind and snow didn’t cover our trail fast enough. Just then Hawk lifted his great sword and stabbed it into the frozen ground. He looked like he was slipping in and out of consciousness when he forced his feet to carry all his weight.

“We were too slow,” he gritted his teeth and yanked the blade out of the ground and rested it on his shoulder pad.

“Go to the cabin take your bow and kill anyone that opens that door, like I showed you.” continued Hawk as he turned to face the torch light.

He then turned to me and kissed me. I thought at that moment I would never see him warm, and alive, again. I squeezed his hand and felt a burst of hope as I ran to the cabin. I ran inside and tossed the pot of vegetable soup on the fire and grabbed my bow. I dove behind the bed and knocked an arrow pointing the tip to the door knob. “If it turns, draw back.” I thought.

It was dark. The only light was from the snow that seemed to glow blue. The wind howled like a child crying in the night. Nothing. The shine on the door knob stayed stagnate. Nothing. What if he was dead, lying in the blue snow? What had happened? It’s been way too long.

Suddenly the door burst open. The snow and wind was almost violent. I closed my eyes drew my bow back and released. All I heard next was, “Woman get the fire going, now!” I didn’t recognize the voice but for some reason I jumped to my feet and started stacking dry kindling on the fire place. As I stacked I saw the figure of another man dropping a body on my bed and dropping my arrow on the floor. Was one of these men my Hawk?

The fire roared and I jumped up putting my shoulder in front door, closing it. It was like the wooden walls had to absorb the light but it grew brighter. My Hawk laid on the bed. The strange man was dressed in white, a large white snow bear skin cloak, and he began bandaging Hawk’s side.

“Who are you, sir?”

Hawks gloved hand lifted to put it on the man’s shoulder pushing him slightly to view me. We stared into each other’s eyes and he spoke.

“He’s my Father.”


Sashara's Journal
2E 569

 

[13th Nightingale]

WANTED:​

The Nord Hawk​

​

CRIME:​

For the murder of Sashara Goldmane, daughter of High Commander Matron Goldmane of the Aldmeri Dominion, in Skyrim 2E 574​

​

REWARD:​

50,000 Septims​

​

DEAD or ALIVE​

 

[13th Nightingale]

A runner appeared in my quarters around 0231 reporting the current attack of a group of masked men. He declared that the casualties had been great on our side. I ordered the runner to send word to a Quick Reaction Force camped to the South. I donned my armor and weapon and made haste to High Commander Goldmane’s quarters.

I relayed the information to the High Commander and we hurried to the main chow hall. From our balcony elevated position we could only see the handfuls of our men dead across the tables and the stone floor. There was not a horde of men, but one. When our eyes met he had finished off the last soldier in the room, throwing his body to the ground. The sound of Elvish metal hitting stone echoed in the hall followed by absolute silence.

The man was tall, his face was masked behind a black linen clothe and hood. His back was covered in a tattered black leather cloak covering a large great sword made of what appeared to be bone. He was Nord, no doubt about it, young and resembled a man of perfect physical fitness. The Nord squared off with us and folded his arms across his chest. It was her lover, the one Sashara called Hawk.

“You have a bounty on my head, High Commander,” spoke Hawk.

“For good reason, Nord! You murdered my daughter!” cried Goldmane.

Hawk relaxed his arms letting them fall to his side. The black cloak over his shoulders fell closed over his torso. He was slow and methodical every step he took. When his feet started climbing the stair case to our level he took every step quietly and eerily as if he floated above the stone, his eyes locked with mine even though he addressed the High Commander.

“I’ve come here to teach you a lesson Goldmane,” declared Hawk as he stood between our floor and the last step of the stairs.

“You bastard!”

The Commander gripped his sword with both hands and lifted it in a blind rage towards Hawk. I couldn’t see from my own perspective but when the Commander hit the floor Hawk was already in between us. A small blade made from the strange bone material his great sword was made from slowly slid inside his cloak, the tip stained in the Commanders blood.

I couldn’t move. The Commander was dead and this Nord man came to do the same to me. I was frozen in fear, like before.

“There’s no one here to save you Captain. No lie you can spin, no innocent girl to hide behind.”

“Shut up!”

“You killed her, and for what? Because she wouldn’t have you?”

“She had no business being with you, Nord!?”

I started stepping back. His steps forward mimicked my steps backwards.

“And that gave you the right to take her life!”

“You poisoned her mind with your Nord-nonsense! If she would have stayed here in Summerset than she would have been with me!”

“And still be alive… is that it?”

My back hit the wall. I had nowhere to maneuver.

“Yes…”

His cloak parted and I saw a blade. It was steel, razor sharp, but smaller than the dagger from before. He lifted it up and all I could do was close my eyes. Suddenly I heard the sound of something cutting through the wind, and the thud of metal sticking into wood. I opened my eyes to see his knife in the floor next to the Commanders body. The blade had sliced his face ever so slightly.

Hawk turned to look at the body allowing me to see it as well. The body began to move and convulse as the Commander coughed up dry air from his lungs. The Commander was alive. He sat up and turned to myself and the Nord. His face filled with the look of betrayal and confusion. I was flabbergasted. I had confessed to the murder of the High Commanders daughter. But… how does he stand? He was dead!

“A large dose of paralytic poison, tipped on my dagger. Enough to make him motionless, but still allow him to bleed out on the floor. It was a deep stab but I hit him in a non vital spot. He was conscious and aware the whole time. If you were any kind of combatant you’d know the difference between dark oozing bleeding and bright squirting venous bleeding,” spoke Hawk to me, nonchalantly looking to the commander.

I ignored his comment as the Commander rose to his feet. His mouth opened slowly and then he began to speak.

“You… this whole time? You killed my daughter, you lied to me, and you blamed this Nord fueling the conflict between our nations, just out of-”

He was cut short. My body just reacted. I pictured the chains of bondage, the cold black cell, the chopping block of the hangman. I had thrust my sword into the High Commanders chest. I awoke into the moment like being slapped back into consciousness. I heard him coming behind me, the Hawk. I pulled the Commander as I turned and put him between the Nord and myself. When Hawk slowed to try to brace the Commander I pushed his body into the Nord’s arms and made my way down the stairs.

I hopped over the bodies of my men and opened the double doors of the mess hall, where I saw an infantry company of my Quick Reaction Force. I made my way through their ranks my hands empty as I realized my blade was still in the Commanders chest. I pulled a blade from one of the soldier’s sheaths and turned to face the door.

“This on-coming Nord has just murdered the High Commander! He is a spy and must be slain the second he is seen! Stand ready men!”

Time seemed to freeze. Where was this Nord? Those doors were the only entrance into that part of the tower, then the loud crack of the double wooden doors being turned to splinters in front of us. The wood turned into shrapnel and there he stood. His hooded head lowered so his shadowed face couldn’t be seen. The men seemed a little off set, as if they had been in the presence of a demon. I took a breath to declare my order but I couldn’t speak, reacting to the sight of the Nord.
His torn cloak began to rise behind him as his tensed open hands shook with rage. Below the drop of the top of his hood his gritting white teeth seemed to stand out of the darkness. He then roared like a saber as multiple bolts of lightning shot from his palms. The bolts jumped from one soldier to the next, bursting holes in them as the current grew larger. A large bolt came for me but at the last second I dived back out of the corridor hallway to the entrance to the fort. I fell back down a small flight of stairs.

When I stopped I found myself next to the Reaction Force Cavalry outside the tower. They were a fierce group of battle mages. I stood up and commanded them to destroy the tower. The tower door flew open, as I spoke, and Hawk stood leaning against the frame of the door. He fought to catch his breath as his eyes widened looking at my force.
“Destroy the Tower!” I yelled.

With the huge force of Magica my Battle Mages lit the night with waves of ice, lighting, and fire. I swear the last image I saw of the Nord was him gasping a small chuckle to himself. Within moments the tower was rubble and the bodies of my men and Hawk were buried below tons of stone. I had my men search the wreckage. There was nothing but the bodies of my men and decimated, unrecognizable flesh. Not even the Commanders body was identified.

My Commissioning to High Commander is tomorrow. All in all it worked out in my favor. I have spoken to the Queen and she intends to march against the Ebonheart Pact and the Daggerfall Covenant towards the Ruby thrown. We’ve met great resistance from both but in time we will prevail.


-From the private Journal of Captain Estale.
Winter 2E 574

 

[13th Nightingale]

Komi's Journal
Fall 2E 574


Today our Listener came to my chambers and spoke to me about another job. He said that the Nightmother had requested me to make contact with a Dominion Captain named Larsh. When I left my room the Captain was standing in the main chamber of our sanctuary. I was instantly startled at the sight of him and his men.

“Marco…?” I asked as I turned back to my snickering brothers. It was almost customary for them to make fun of me, but it did not bother me. I may not have the quickest tongue but I was strong and represented the Shadowscales with pride.

“These gentlemen have requested the assassination of a Nord in Skyrim.” Marco stated.

“Why… are they here?” I asked choosing my words carefully.

“Captain Larsh, here, used to be one of us. He’s grown lazy and rich and has requested we handle his dirty work for him.” Mocked Marco to the Captain, it appeared they were old friends. “The contract has already been paid in full.”

“Has the Nightmother truly spoken to you about this contract?” I asked.

Marco seemed astonished by my question. “Uh… yes. Now be off, Komi!”

I collected my intelligence on the target. He was wanted for the kidnapping of some daughter of a High Commander. The warrant was issued by a Captain Estale. Odd, you’d think the High Commander would have issued this warrant, seeing how it was his daughter. As I walked I viewed all the documentation. There were orders of a second company to reclaim the Commanders daughter at a different location. If the boy had kidnapped her, why would he drop her off or why would this Captain know where she is? In the bottom of the satchel I pulled out a small pouch. It was empty about the size of a Deathball, black, with the emblem of a little black bird. The pouch had two strong scents on it: a woman’s… young… she smelled of the isles… the Commander’s Daughter, the other… man… Nord… is also young… my target.

I crossed the border from Black Marsh to Skyrim. The mountains of this country are ridicules, like a giant wall of stone and metal protecting a frigid wasteland. As I stood on the top of the south eastern mountain range I saw a small hold, perhaps Riften. I made camp and set out the next morning. The climb down was hard. Argonian’s are not made to climb mountains, but I managed. As soon as my feet hit the forest ground I picked up his smell. It was unusually strong for being so far to my north.

I took to the tree tops and jumped from limb to tree limb being so soft that not even the leafs would fall. As I moved closer I realized the smell wasn’t of just one man. It was two, but they smelled exactly alike. The only way that would have been possible is if they were in the same places for a long period of time and they were kin. I stopped at a vantage point.

Two men, of the same height and build; one man with a mask and hood, the other no mask but a large steel great sword on his back. Which one was my target? In these situations I wished by Sithis there would be some sort of arrow pointing to the right man, but there was not. They stroll to a large black rock. I only notice it because they move to it but I see it is different, as if it does not belong. The masked man touched it and a door opened. They both went inside.

I had to keep with them so I dove towards the entrance as it closed. My tail tip was crushed as the door closed. I kept silence as I broke free. No matter it will grow back. I trailed the men as they walked down a narrow corridor. The masked one led the other, no torch; he knew his way around. They stopped in front of large shadowed opening. I had good cover; I would wait until one identified himself then strike.

“Hawk,” the masked one spoke. “Over the last five years I have taught you everything I know. You are everything I hoped for in a son. But now it is time to tell you the truth.”

My target was young; it was obvious the unmasked one was him. As I drew my blade in shadow the father removed his mask. The father looked exactly like his son. Like a mirror image. The only difference was the father had a scar on his left cheek and his eyes bright white, like the stars; where his son was untouched with blue eyes. Age had not separated them. I would hold my blade just to be certain.

“I’m ready Dad.”

The father turned to the walls, his hand glow bright with Mage Light. The walls had been covered in a strange writing.

“Hawk, do you know this language?”

“Yeah uhh hang on…” he thought snapping his fingers as if he was remembering a lesson. “The burn marks, large characters spoken into the stone… Dova-script.”

“Yes, the first recorded writing. It’s a story. The Hawk and the Nightingale.”

The boy looked surprised. I sheathed my blade and tucked behind the rock relying on the echoing cave to be my sight as I hid.

“Before the era of men, I sit upon my mountain top, the highest peak to the North of this continent. I see the world growing and changing before my eyes. New species are born every day and I feel a reckoning on the door step of this Realm. I am calmed by the site of two winged animals finding their way to the top of my mountain.

A black bird, sleek and beautiful; I will call her a Nightingale. The other a larger faster bird, dark brown with a breast of black spotted white, eyes able to see across the very world; I will call him a Hawk. Every evening, while the sky is covered in the lights of the gods, these two creatures dance in the sky. A warm love between them has allowed me to close my eyes knowing their lives as well as mine have purpose and reason.

One night the Hawk declared his love to the Nightingale and flew above into the darkness of the sky. He straightened his wings and dived towards the top of the mountain. His wings carried him faster than any Dova could ever fly. The Hawk tried to rise but his speed crippled him and he crashed down on the top of snowy mountain. He lie dead before me. The Nightingale landed to his side and wept at the loss of her mate. She looked up at me and begged me to help, but the Hawks soul had joined the worlds and was gone.

As she lie next to his lifeless body I considered the thought of their lives; innocent, powerful, beautiful. I chose to do as she wished in exchange for the Nightingales servitude to life after her death. I split her soul and breathed life into the Hawk, filling the rest with the power of the Dova. Before my eyes the Hawk had become a man and the Nightingale a woman. They lived out her their days until the passing of both their mortal souls.

On that day the Hawk stood before me, holding the wrapped body of his love. Keeping her promise I brought her back and rose to devote her life to her new form I had given her. The form of the one called Nocturnal. The Hawk felt as though he owed me a debt as well. He declared his duty to me as destroyer of darkness. He had noticed that the life I had given him was that of an immortal. Riches, temptation, and power meant nothing to a man who would live forever. Only peace.” Read the father to the son.

“What does it mean?” asked Hawk.

The father turned extinguishing the mage light. He put his hand on his son’s shoulder.

“Since that day our power has been passed, from father to son, twelve times. All the knowledge, experience, pain, suffering, emotion, I know it all. Immortality is something that tires a soul, my son. I stand before you, in the same place I stood 215 years ago. My father trained me and read from the same wall I have just read to you.” Explained the father.

Hawk took a step back. His father stepped with him placing his hands on his shoulders.

“I’m tired son. You will understand soon…” whispered the father.

“What do I have to do?” gasped Hawk as a tear fell from his eye.

Suddenly from beyond the large black cave to their side a voice bellowed. It was deep and old, loud like from a beast. “You have been trained to wield the dagger, no?”

The surprised boy turned to the shadow as his father dropping one hand from his shoulder.

“Who are you?” asked the boy.

“I… am the author of the families story young Hawk, kasha krosis don. I have guided your father, the old Hawk for some time now, and his father before him. When this ceremony is over, denolik de gras, then I will guide you, godane.” Spoke the now visible Dragon.

This contract is way out of my league. If I were to even show my face, the dragon would kill me instantly, or this immortal would slay me. Keep quiet and maybe you’ll get out here alive.

“The Bound Dagger technique, Sukara Deasa, you have learned will gather the souls of your fathers and join them to your own. You will not lose yourself; you will just gain their experiences, pusta-nas. Imagine a mind with the experience of the ages and a body with the strength of training for over 1000 years. Also, be prepared. The pain you will feel is very intense.” Proclaimed the Dragon.

“Summon the dagger, Hawk.” Asked the kind sounding father.

With a weak gestured lift of the boy’s palm, a bright purple dagger glowing with the power of the soul lie in his hand. His father softly grasped it and placed the tip to his own heart.

“There’s something I need to say.” The dagger began to glow bright; the wisps of white light surrounded them both. “I know its moot seeing how you’ll know in a few moments but I want to say it. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you were growing up. I couldn’t. Your mother knew what I was from the beginning; she knew what she was getting in too. Later, when I heard your mother was sick, and even though she had me swear to her I wouldn’t come back… I still had to come. The night she passed I-” the father was interrupted.

“I know I saw you that night. That’s why when you saved Sashara and me that night; I knew who you were.” Interrupted the boy.

“Thank you, boy, for being so understanding.” Spoke the father.

I looked up at that moment to see the father pull into the son. Arms wrapped around each other in a tight embrace. His father’s arms began to mimic the color of the now wild purple and white wisps surrounding the two. The strips of flying soul began to land on the boy fading into the brown leather covering his body. A sound that resembled hot metal being dropped into water followed. The blade had pierced the father’s heart. I had to close my eyes.

Moments later the sound was gone and the light had faded. I opened my eyes and looked at the boy. He had fallen to his knees and was moaning in either agony, or despair; I couldn’t tell. His eyes were now his father’s eyes. The scar was now on the boys face. The tears no longer fell. The boy caught his breath. He stood slowly pushing off the ground, eyes looking at the world; squinting as if seeing for the first time. He stared at the remains of his father, a pile of armor and gear.

He turned towards the Dragon; his back now to me. He took a breath as if he was to speak but quickly turned his head to the side. The profile of his face showed the glowing bright white eye in my direction; the outlines of the pupil still there.

“You there, Argonian! How deep are your wounds?” spoke the new man, his voice echoing in the hall. The Dragons head rose quickly squaring off with the cover I was hiding behind.
I lowered my head to my tail. My blood had made a small puddle of blood as I had watched the events unfold. I quickly tied it off with a strap from my boot. I collected my thoughts and stood up my hands in the air.

“I mean you no harm, Nord!” I shouted.

“I find that hard to believe, Shadowscale.” Softly replied Hawk as he pointed to my gear; the red hand of Sithis on my chest. “Who sent you?”

“By the order of Captin Estale a bounty has been put on your head for the kidnapping of Sashara Goldmane. But to be honest the evidence makes no sense.” I replied lowering my hand and pulling my intelligence packet out of my satchel. I tossed it to Hawk.

He turned to square off with me. His single hand palmed the packet and began to comb through it. He pulled out the black pouch with the bird emblem on it. His eyes darted side to side putting pieces of the puzzle together.

“To leave this behind, she must have been in a hurry….” Hawk trailed on and off speaking to himself. “Running from… who? Estale… the man from her letters…” Hawk stopped and looked up to me.

“Shadowscale, by choosing to think instead of following orders blindly, you have done a great thing today. If you wish to fulfill your contract you may take my father’s chest armor. The knife cut and blood soaked in it should be ample evidence of your completion of the contract. Perhaps we will meet again.” Spoke Hawk as he quickly turned to the Dragon.

“Paarthanaux! I need a ride.” Demanded Hawk.

“Perhaps we will…” I whispered to myself.