Kirkwall was a very important city-state – a home for the bustling trading business with the rest of Thedas. But it was also a city rumbling with danger. The underbelly of it all had been whispering with unease for quite a while. Many powers were wrestling for the control of the city – the one on top would hold many keys. The TEMPLAR order, the soldiers supervising the mages and the rest of the city, and the Circle, the organization of mages constrained within the gallows, but in reality running their veins through the dark corners of the city, were the main candidates for the control. The governing viscount was struggling to not become nothing more than a puppet figure. And in the midst of the chaotic ordeal, the city guard forces tried to maintain order among the common people. What would come out of all of it?

Hawke didn't care. At least for now. He never had much interest in the political circus. Didn't matter who was in control, usually the little man always suffered. He was working with the guard forces to help maintain the order in the city. They were underfunded and spread short as it is, so they often relied on the help of hired mercenaries. Thanks to his close friendship with the Guard Captain Aveline Vallen he had become a more or less a permanent fixture in the law forces. He liked to consider himself a consultant of sorts, and also to think he did a good job cleaning the gutters of the city, with the help of his merry friends. Albeit he didn't always work through strictly legal channels, the work spoke for itself and the guards were willing to look at his methods through their fingers. Not that it mattered either way if he lost their support... he had his own personal mission, and he was ready to do whatever it would take to achieve his goal. To catch a killer.

Hawke's hands balled into fists just at the thought of him. The Lily Killer. Under his usual, seemingly never ending good spirits and sarcasm brew bitter hate. He'd catch him even if it was the end of him. His mother's killer. The man who destroyed his family, just as he had destroyed her. The image of his mother's mutilated body, parts ripped apart and sewn back together like a macabre marionette... Hawke shook his head. No, he didn't want those images in his head now. He had other matters to attend to. Work called. He had made his way to Hanged Man, a seedy bar and his usual watering hole. But he was not after the comfort of alcohol tonight. He was here to meet his long time friend Varric, who was renting one of the rooms upstairs.

"You wanted to see me?" Varric stepped back from the door as Hawke walked in.

"Yes, I received a message earlier today. I thought you might find it interesting. An anonymous tip about slavers operating in the slums. I asked Isabela to trace it, but she said it only lead to dead ends. Whoever it was, did their homework. And also offered a generous reward." Varric stated, walking back to his computer and plopped back down on the chair. Beside the machine was an opened bottle of golden coloured liquid and a half empty glass – Antivan whiskey, Hawke guessed. He raised an eyebrow and gave Varric a curious glance, before considering his friend's words. "Slavers, eh? You'd think they had learned already that their kind tend to... expire rather quickly in these parts" he grinned, thinking back to the last time they ran into slavers – none had, unfortunately, made it alive to bookings at the guard station. Varric returned his wicked smile. Neither of them had much sympathy for the criminals, who like cockroaches still found their way back to the city even though slavery was illegal in all countries except for Tevinter. Always ready to prey on the most vulnerable ones, despite the risks.

"Beats me. Could be that they have a death wish. I suppose we should show them just how welcome they are here. But we got to keep alert – something about this just smells funny. I'm sure this tipster, whoever it is, has their own motives." The dwarf stated, then finished his drink in one gulp. He grimaced for a second at the strong burn running down his throat. The Rivaini sure knew her alcohol. He walked over to the bed of his small suite and reached under it to pull out a large weapon case. He slammed it on the table and pulled out his precious Bianca, a mean looking double barreled shotgun. "Shall we? Isabela is waiting for us near the location. I contacted Anders, but he's busy at the clinic tonight. What about asking Junior to tag along? We need more manpower."

Hawke gave it a thought and nodded. He pulled out a phone from his pocket and dialed Carver. His little brother had been rather moody lately and complaining about being left out when Hawke went on one of his jobs with the rest of his companions. "Good idea. And maybe he'll cool off a bit this way, he's been such a pain lately," he mulled, catching the sympathetic glance Varric gave him. The dwarf knew the brothers didn't have it easy. Too many members of the Hawke family had been lost in the recent years and only lately things had seemed to get better. As Hawke told his brother where to meet him, he and his short friend made their way outside the bar and continued towards the slums.

Even though he was busy bantering and joking with Varric, Hawke couldn't help the feeling in the back of his mind telling that this night would be a very important one.