Disclaimer: I own nothing. Tyria is a world belonging to Arenanet and NCSOFT in the form of the Guild Wars franchise. Ayroh is a character belonging to my friend Kaenes.

To the readers: Thanks for your support, reviews, and the rush of adding this story to your favourites. I'm super happy you like the story!

Chapter 10: Bloody Hawk Killings, File I

"This is a joke."

"No, it's not."

"I refuse to climb in that thing."

"It's just for a little while, only until we get through the gate."

"Negative!" she snapped.

"Would you rather have an appointment with Seneca down in the stockade? Because that is what's going to happen if you stay."

Seven and Rhia, as he had started calling her for ease sake, glared at each other. He pointed to the box. "Get in, or I'll just leave without you."

One-armed Wick leaned his head into the dark alley. "You two sound like Lakka and I in the morning after too short a night. Hurry up with your squabbling, there are soldiers snooping this way."

Seven glared at the petulant plant and was about to order her again, when instead she gracefully curled up into the box and pulled the makeshift lid over her, leaving him befuddled. The lid was the primary part of the disguise, the sliced off tops of various large bottles, made for carrying hazardous chemicals, welded together and settled perfectly over the crate.

"Well, what's the delay? I'm prepared to go!" Rhiannon declared, her voice echoing metallically.

Shaking his head, he grabbed the straps of the box and lifted it into his back. Once it was secure, he exited the alley and began the trek up to the Asura Gate.

He felt Rhiannon shuffle around inside the space.

"Be careful, some of my stuff is delicate." he muttered out the side of his muzzle.

"I thought you had sent your belongings by post?" she hissed back.

"Yes, but not the valuables. You don't expect me to trust L.A. customs do you? Now be quiet, it looks like some of your friends are waiting at the gate."

Dressed in their casuals, two charr Seven recognised from earlier stood by the gate, pretending to be engaged in conversation, but their eyes roved over each traveller as they approached. As it happened, a sylvari woman, wearing a dark brown cloak was a few places ahead of Seven and his passenger. The two soldiers approached her, and he heard them ask if she had seen a mesmer dressed in similar vestment.

She politely shook her head and was about to continue on, but one of them grabbed her arm and pulled her back. "How do we know that you aren't her? You could be her in one of those illusions! Either that, or you remember her, don't all you 'planties' share the same brain?"

The sylvari scoffed at the suggestion, and the situation soon deteriorated into a heated argument.

Seven tried to maintain as calm a front as possible, waiting his turn to walk through the gate. His ears picked up Rhia shifting about in the crate, and he heard her pop a cork off of a vial.

He growled, trying to get her attention. "What are you doing?"

Suddenly, she let out a sneeze, loud enough to be almost a shriek.

The eyes of the two soldiers zeroed in on Seven immediately, and they brushed aside the now distressed traveller.

As they approached, one of them waved his hand before his snout. "What are you carrying, shorty?"

Seven's own snout wrinkled at the spicy stench of one of his ingredients. He promised himself he was going to make Rhia repay in full if she spilled all of his cinnamon oil.

"Just some chemicals, I wouldn't touch them, they can be a bit volatile."

"They sure don't smell like chemicals."

"It's my own special mixture. The scents make it easier for me to track what I've already added into my compounds." Yes, Seven, if one of them knows a lick about chemistry you're had.

To his relief, they both shrugged. "Alright, but who sneezed?"

"Oh, that was me, sorry." Seven insisted, mustering a sneeze by sticking a hair up his nostril. To his credit, and humiliation, he forced out a shockingly high-pitched sound.

After a moment of stunned silence, the two soldiers laughed uproariously, joined by the snickers of several travellers.

With ears pressed down, and tail tucked as close behind him as possible, Seven hastened towards the gate. Just as he was a few steps from the goal, he heard Rhiannon toss the lid off of the crate. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her pop herself up and wave to the miscreant soldiers.

"Farewell, my cherished ignoramuses!"

Seven did not wait to hear the rest of their angry responses. He cut in line and dashed through the gate, Rhiannon's laughter ringing in his ears. He almost gasped at the sudden change of sensation; the salty stench of low tide, the bustle of people of all races, the sun glaring down on his head. The two gate guards looked at him, or rather the sylvari riding in the crate on his back.

She waved pleasantly at them, suddenly putting on a rustic accent, "Oh, ahoy Gertus, Cordie, long time no see."

They shook their heads and waved her off. "Move along twig, you're impeding traffic."

"You heard him, get going!" she ordered Seven, smacking the back of his head. "Drinks are on me tonight. See you two at the Crow's Nest!"

Mortified, Seven scurried along and wooden platform and across the bridge to a Grand Piazza.

He stopped in the stone square, panting as he regained his breath. "They friends of yours?"

"Never encountered them in my mortality," she responded, suddenly returning to her typical vocabulary. "I was merely being unsuspicious."

"I see…" Without warning, Seven un-strapped himself and lay the pack on the ground. Rhia cried out in surprise. She nimbly landed on the plaza, and set herself about smoothing her garment.

"Well," he began, "I suppose this is where we part ways." He snatched the lining of the crate, and with a tug, the remaining contents were now in a much more manageable bag. He then extended his hand to shake farewell.

"Clever…" Rhiannon muttered. She looked over the charr carefully while she debated inwardly. He's not an idiot, he's tolerable, and… I'm curious...

Seeing how the pink-top was ignoring his outstretched hand, he pulled it back and took the crate, looking for a merchant to sell it to.

"Wait!" she cried.

He stopped, "Yes?"

"Do you have a place to stay?"

He nodded, and resumed walking.

"Wait!"

Sighing he responded, "What?"

"What do I do now?"

"I don't know, whatever you want!" He snapped in irritation.

She took a moment to think, and her face lit up. "Wait!"

His four ears flared and his hackles rose as he spun around. "WHAT!?" he roared.

"Do you know how to get to your place?"

After a growl he responded. "Of course! It's…" His hackles deflated and his eyes shifted about as he added meekly, "…in the Western Ward… somewhere."

Rhiannon grinned triumphantly. "Follow me."

"You don't have to keep me company. I'll figure this place out."

"Truly? You think you'll be able to find your place in that crazed jumble of nautical debris?"

"It can't be worse than the Gladium Canton, besides, you can go. You don't owe me anything."

"True" she agreed with a nod, "but you said I could do whatever I want."

A stupefied expression froze Seven's face, which sent Rhiannon into a quick fit of giggles. Once she composed herself she snatched his paw and pulled him along, ignoring his meagre objections.

Beneath the tangle of wood, sail, and crag of the Northern Ward, a charr whose fur was darker than the shadows leaned against the rock-face, his keen golden eyes searching the darkness.

"I know you're here," his baritone voice rumbled playfully, defying his short stature.

Pale skin shown in the murk as a norn woman approached him. Her fair complexion contrasted with her meagre black garb which failed to cover her toned middle, her right thigh, and left arm and shoulder. She leaned against the ship's hull opposite the charr in the small space.

"I'm glad you could meet with me, Darius."

"It's been too long, Inna. How have your siblings been?"

"Up to no good, of course," she answered cheerfully then her voice turned grim, "How is the boss?"

"Not good, we are all worried about him. He's becoming more distant by the day."

"Poor Ayroh," Inna sighed. The bells in her flaxen hair jingled as she shook her head sadly. "It doubly worries me, because he's left, rumour has it, to northern Ascalon."

"With, or without him, we will fulfil his grand vision. If a mighty shaman like Emberclaw could not win against him, we have little to worry about. He will return, when the time is right. Even a late comer like me can see that Shadowsoul is no one to be taken lightly."

"So you are still going through with that mission he gave you?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"The relic might not even exist."

"And that is for me to confirm." Darius rose and lay a hand on the towering norn's shoulder. "Besides, with all the alone time, I'll get to finish reading the book I just purchased."

"You're still reading that trash?"

"It's romance, my dear Inna, and humans explain it in such…" he tapped the bon protrusions on his chin as he sought the right word, "fascinating detail."

She grimaced at her companion's choice of entertainment. "But… it's about a norn and a human, that's just… unnatural."

"That is why it's fiction, Inna. However, telling by the detail, I think the author might actually be in love with a norn. She's so descriptive in the scenes whe-!"

Inna cuffed the side of his jaw, careful to avoid the horns. "Enough of that, Sootcatcher!" then she pulled him into a bear hug. "Be careful, and Snow Leopard be with you."

She released, once again allowing him to breathe.

"I'm always carefu—," even though he had been looking right at her, she vanished so quickly his keen eyes could not follow. He chuckled, "Fast as ever…"

He walked into the balmy daylight, muttering the list of things he would purchase for his mission. He took a shortcut through a narrow gap, unaware of the steps behind him, and the clawed hand in which appeared a long blade, with the blood of the murdered running down the edge.

Rhiannon sat primly as she looked about the apartment, whose floor was slanted ever so slightly to give the effect of precariousness, as if the ships the building was made of were still out on the high seas. To her delight there were two beds, and she found it easy to convince her furry companion that she would pay for the food and a quarter of the rent herself if she got the second bed. By this, and other agreements, she discovered money spoke loudly to Seven, and that as long as a price was agreed to, she could compel him to nearly anything.

Her new companion had gone to the local bathhouse leaving her to her own devices. After thoroughly surveying the accommodations, she sat on the window-side bed and looked out at distant harbour. However, this soon proved to be inadequate cognitive stimulation, and her violet eyes began to eagerly peek at Seven's satchel resting on the bed beside her. After a brief moment of indecision, the contents were spilt out of the leather bag. Rhiannon did not even take note of the other items when her eyes saw the large book. After putting the rest of the items back in the bag, she opened the cover. The first pages showed a series of gears with arrows pointing the direction of turning.

"Oh, schematics!" despite how she had no understanding of engineering, there were a plethora of notes and various pictures to peek at, more than enough to keep herself entertained. She made herself comfortable, lying on her side as she flipped through the pages. Once she had gone through the first quarter of the sketch book, there began to be fewer schematics, and more true art pieces. Landscapes, flowers, still life, a couple attempts at self-portrait, and even a rendering of a grizzled charr's bust. Rhiannon found the change in art fascinating, and then something surprised her. A little over halfway through, the schematics almost disappeared entirely, and in their place was a human girl.

Rhiannon knew little of art, but she could tell the strokes of the lead were softer, slower, more painstakingly made, to render a highly detailed sketch. Page after page, she could see the same girl gradually grow into a young woman. The sylvari was utterly confused. Were not the charr and humans opposites? She knew of the ceasefire, but even in Lion's Arch the two races were on just cordial terms. Why would a charr, from Ascalon no less, have half a sketchbook dedicated to a human? In her brief, but full year of life, she had never encountered anything like it.

She flipped back and went through the pictures again. She noticed in all of them, the girl seemed to be in the midst of some routine action: resting from work, sleeping, eating, laughing, in many of them she was smiling, but the artist faithfully captured all her other emotions as well. She skipped forward in the book, to see what the most recent pieces were. She found these different, more hesitation, more uncertainty, and the woman was no longer alone, she was now joined by Seven, even if it was just an arm which was wrapped around her shoulder, or his toothy maw grinning back at her smile.

The charr himself walked in, dressed after his bath and towelling his damp mane and fur as well as he could. "What are you-?!"

Rhiannon rolled off the bed and dashed to the other side of the room, keeping him from retrieving his sketchbook. "I was just looking at your pictures. You are a very good artist." She looked back at him, mildly ashamed of her nosy conduct, but was intrigued when she saw his four ears flop forward and widen in embarrassment.

"Those are… private." He shuffled nervously.

"Really? I was not aware." Well… yes perhaps I could have taken the hint.

With astonishing speed, he snatched his book and thrust it back into his pack.

Rhiannon blinked in curiosity. "Why are you embarrassed? Is there something you're hiding?"

"No-, yes-, I don't know." He shook his head in frustration and several half-hearted growls escaped his throat. "Those are just schematics. I don't want someone else to claim credit for my designs."

She felt like her eyes had been opened. "Oh yes, I understand that! Asura will do anything to protect their inventions." Even destroy each other's lives, "I did not know charr were like that too."

Seven sighed in relief, "Yes, of course!" he nodded earnestly.

With the awkwardness aside, Rhia now felt perfectly comfortable asking him who the girl was.

His relief vanished, and the awkwardness returned, much to her confusion. "Orla… the girl is Orla."

"She's very beautiful."

His silence confused her. Obviously he agreed, why not say so?

The sylvari could tell he had no intention of continuing the conversation, so she rose, exclaiming how famished she was. "How about we head on over to Crow's Nest? They have delicious grilled salmon."

At the mention of food, Seven's face brightened and Rhiannon figured she could coax more information out of him after he had a full stomach and more than a few drinks. Who knew tagging along with strangers could be so interesting? This could become a habit of mine.

Faint gurgles and silenced cries caught Darius Sootcatcher's attention. He stopped, closed the book he was half reading, and turned around. He wondered if his ears were not playing tricks on him, but another moment later he caught a sickening scent in the air. He followed his nose around a corner and into an alley which he had not one minute ago passed through. The quiet alley had been transformed from a lazy place for a drunk to recover, into a little corner of hell.

Blood was sprayed across the walls, scarlet foot and handprints were everywhere, and once he shimmied around a tall pile of crates, his stomach lurched in revulsion. The bodies of at least six humans were cast about the narrow space, their blood forming a pool beneath them. One more step and Darius' paw felt damp from the still warm fluid soaking into his fur.

A rushing wind, a blade, a shadow, swift and silent, Darius on instinct moved to avoid a cut from a wickedly toothed dagger. He only got a glimpse of a dark mass when he slipped on the blood. He caught himself and gasped in disgust, his left hand was inside the empty abdominal cavity of one of the victims, devoid of organs.

As he tried to rise, he drew his pistol from his belt, ready to face his foe. Lights danced in his vision as pain engulfed his skull. He fell into the red puddle, his weary gaze staring out at a sideways world as a dark figure vanished into the roofs and masts, and before his eyes a black hawk spread its wings.

Mostly character development, but now the reason for the ominous ACT 2 title (A Bird Drawn in Blood) should be apparent. A killer loose in Lion's Arch! And yes, I came up with this plot long before that whole Dragon Bash fiasco in game.