Hello readers! I hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I did writing it! Also, in case you did not know, Dance of Lead now has it's first chapter en español, Danza de Plomo! It was translated by a friend of mine, Papagallo89 on Deviantart, aka REDR in GW2. He's a cool guy with an awesome group of Latin American gamers. Little thing I learned. "Charr" is an awkward word to pronounce in spanish, so they are often called "gato" or cat over voice chat. Now whenever I see a charr in game I say "un gato!"

On to your irregularly scheduled programming.

Chapter 13 : Bloody Hawk Killings, File 2

The sun rested low on the horizon, spraying golden lights across the harbour and city of Lion's arch, the daily beauty only tainted by the grey-green sheen in the southern sky, stained by the corruption of the risen land of Orr, a reminder for the past hundred and fifty years, that the routine of life was on the brink of a precipice, over which lurked a fate unimaginably dark. It was in this golden/green evening light that Inna Fronsdotter meandered, her flaxen hair glowing in vibrant beauty, causing more than one of the persons she questioned about the recent 'disappearances' to stumble over their words, caught off guard by her exotic features.

But it was not people's wandering eyes that made her investigation difficult; it was that the murders were largely unknown. The Lionguard was keeping a tight hold on information, insisting the killings were merely cases of missing persons. Those who had friends and relatives 'disappear' were silent, worried for their missing loved ones and wary of anyone asking around. She could only speak openly about the killings with the pirates of the black market, whose tongues could not be silenced by the city state's law enforcement, and with whom she had built a reputation as the fastest courier who never asked questions. It was these pirates who showed her the map.

The canvas map hung in their inner operations room and showed the entire city of L.A. as well as some surrounding areas. Every street, alley, and tunnel, was painstakingly drawn by the criminal underworld's best cartographers. Black pins marked the locations of every murder in which the victim was missing an organ, information which the black market had gleaned from their inside partners in the Lionguard, as well as their own small group of private investigators. As shown on the canvas, most of the killings took place in the dark alleys, tunnels, and secluded beeches in and around the city. Inna spent an hour pouring over the map, trying to memorise the location of each of the slayings.

It surprised her initially at how easy it was to have access to so much of the black market's information, but as it was explained to her by her escort, due to the secluded locations of the killings, the black market had lost many of their own. Anyone to whom the black market gave even a small amount of trust, were allowed to join the hunt, so that this latest bane to the city's underbelly could be stopped.

Armed with this information, Inna spent the last two days going to the crime scenes, talking to those who lived near them, and to those who had reported someone missing. Little sleep and a blistered heel later, and she had found next to nothing that the black market did not know. Victims, though often criminally involved, were not exclusively so. Many were just citizens taking a shortcut on their way to work or home. Socially, there was not a pattern. Humans and charr were the primary victims, making Inna consider that it was a Separatist or Renegade's doing, but there was also a couple norn, an asura, a kodan, and a hylek among those murdered.

Furthermore, if it was the work of terrorists, to advance their ideals they would have been most affective killing vulnerable targets to enrage the populace. But there were no children, and no elderly killed, all the victims were young to middle aged adults, male and female, in near perfect health, all of them found missing an organ, anything from skin to spleen.

The only clear pattern, was that the serial killer was murdering healthy, middle to lower class citizens of L.A.. Inna halted, an uneasy feeling twisting in her gut. Something evil was being done, something even worse than simply murdering these people. The taking of trophies, the lack of discrimination, the methodical drawing of the flying bird with blood all together drew a disturbing picture.

She sighed as she left a small store, next to which a young norn had his colon removed. The shopkeeper had been of little help, and spent much of the time stealing glances at her midriff and making passes at her. He was cute, for a human, but she did not have time for casual conversation. Her kitty was being held up by the Lionguard rubes, and she was not going to let him twiddle his thumbs in jail when he had a mission to complete.

She halted, her mind reeling with a realisation. "A mission! Everything, all this bloodshed, it's a mission! And this killer isn't just crazy!" Inna's eyes widened in insight as she rambled to herself, "Speedy and efficient, bloody hawk drawings only used over charr or human victims, specific organs from each victim, no surviving witnesses- Darius!"

Black wisps danced aimlessly in the street in the spot where only a blink ago Inna had stood.

"Look out!" Rhiannon screamed as azure flames engulfed the black charr and the arena sand erupted like a geyser.

A wall of dust rolled out from the base of the eruption like a rippling wave, forcing her to protect her eyes, as searing droplets of glass stung her bark. The wards successfully kept her from bursting into flame, but did not save her from the pain. The dust settled and she saw Darius, paws grasping at blue ethereal chains which pierced his abdomen, thighs, and chest, and suspended him a couple metres above the sands.

"Darius!" She cried, mind racing, unfocused, trying to rethink her strategy, or force out a spell, but she was unable to break out of her shock. She was helpless as the chains writhed like serpents, eliciting agonised roars from her comrade. She was frozen, in the same rotten slime which haunted her sleep. She was drowning. All she could hear was Darius' cries. All she could feel was his agony.

The guardian Grindik pulled back on his holy chains and the glowing blue links emerged from beneath the sands until the line drew taught, dragging Darius across the arena like a reeled fish. With a spin and a cast, the chains flung their victim in a half circle, wind whistling through his fur, before suddenly flinging him upwards fifteen metres, then hurtling him back down to the ground, multi-coloured lights sparkling where he struck as the wards struggled to lessen the impact. Dust and sand erupted violently, pelting the audience who cried out in discomfort.

Rhiannon stood still frozen. A word, give me a word, any word! Her mind worked frantically to keep herself from falling into the nightmare. Her heart matched the rhythm of the footfalls of the approaching charr warrior. I need a word! The warrior raised his hammer, ready to strike.

"Inundation!" Rhiannon screamed.

The warrior stayed his strike a moment. "Ehh?!" he grunted in confusion.

"Inundation, inundation, inundation!" she cried, her mind focused on the repeated four syllables, feeling as if a flood of water washed away the slime, giving her movement once again.

The charr shook his head and swung.

She raised her blades. "Inundation!" was her warcry as she leapt and rolled over the hammer-shaft. As she spun she struck out with her left sword. The warrior raised his plate covered arm and blocked the attack. But the strike accomplished what she needed. She slipped under his arm and brought the tip of her other sword to his shoulder. Once aimed, she thrust with all her might.

The charr fell back, his legs becoming noodles as anguish overcame him and he bellowed like a whipped calf.

"Oh! Is that where my companion Seven damaged you? I'll try harder!" She threw her weight into the sword, sparks flying from the tip as the wards struggled to protect him from a more serious wound.

In a flash of light, Grindik was beside her. Instantly Rhiannon was engulfed in blue flames, the stench of burning leaves filled the air. Her body flattened and shattered.

Imaginary glass tumbled down as Grindik called out to Rhiannon who stood safe, if a little singed, several metres away, "Typical mesmer, never able to take a hit!"

Rhiannon ignored him glancing down at the passed out warrior. One trounced, one to go. "To be candid, I fashioned the decoy last instant, you almost had me if that is any solace." Her eyes hardened and glowed with pink phosphorescence. She stepped back and her image rippled, and three perfect copies of her materialised.

In unison they spoke, motioning with their hands, "Obfuscate."

"No you don't!" Grindik roared, leaping forward, great-sword slicing a wide swath. He carved two Rhiannons in half.

"Disorient," they continued the mantra, magic crackling from their mouths.

Two more clones appeared to replace the ones he destroyed and rushed him, the other two Rhiannons fled.

In a flash of light, the charr vanished and reappeared in front of the fleeing copies. Blue flames engulfed them and they shattered.

"Confuse."

Grindik's vision blurred as the world inverted, right became left, and down became up as his mind fogged over. However, he fought through it, maintaining presence of mind enough to bring his free palm to his chest and turn around to face his attacker. A brilliant glow radiated from over his heart as purging flames flowed inside his body, curing him of the mesmeric hex. Then with a brief meditation of his own, he closed his mind to further assault.

"…Torment. Pain!" Rhiannon finished her mantra smugly, now having the assaulting power of two charged spells at her disposal. Her clones vanishing as she lifted her blades and charged.

Grindik responded by swinging his own sword, casting four ethereal chains to tether her.

In Rhiannon's next footfall, she twisted and dodged, spinning like a top of death, ready to shred her opponent. But mid spin she stopped, the tip of her blade almost kissing the charr's jaw. Her eyes widened in surprise at being suddenly trapped. She looked down and saw the shining chain anchor embedded in her side.

She looked back up too see the charr's face split with a pearly white grin accompanied by bobbing eyebrows as he yanked his sword back. To her disbelief she flew backwards, away from him. Despite being mid-air she could not help but think how this was not the typical function of guardian tethers. Her answer came as she was flung in a curve and saw that her chain was wrapped around another chain's anchor embedded in the ground, producing a pulley, so he could pull her towards himself and maximise his leverage while having the victim be disoriented by being pulled away from and then towards her attacker.

The arena became a blur as she completed the half obit around the makeshift pulley and hurtled towards the waiting edge of Grindik's greatsword. She cast a distortion, producing multiple images of herself in front of her to mitigate the coming damage. But it was not enough. She ended bent over the blade, her abdomen burning from the ward-dispersed agony of what outside of the arena would have made Rhiannon a much shorter sylvari.

The charr grunted as he spun with the sword, expecting to finish off his opponent in with one more swing. Rhiannon had other plans. Gritting her teeth, she dug her feet into the sands and grabbed the sword, halting the swing. She raised her hand towards his face and in three quick bursts, she cast her stored spells, breaking through the guardian's magical aegis, and weakening his limbs. He stumbled back from the mix of pain and confusion.

"Smarts, doesn't it?!" she roared and stumbled. Energy spent, and with abdomen burning in torment, Rhiannon resigned herself. She looked at her opponent, who was rising only seconds after her strongest mental assault.

Muttering her irritation at losing, she fell forward, no longer having the strength to stand. She was surprised to not feel the soft impact of sand, but rather, coarse texture of chainmail.

Grindik, with sylvari in his arms raised his muzzle to the audience, "I concede!" he declared then lowered his gaze to the befuddled twig. "If it was just you and me in this arena, you would have won." He explained with a grin. He helped her to her feet and continued to support her with a thick arm around her. "You are a true warrior, Rosey Twig."

The crowd, though initially confused, started to applaud, and escalated to loud cheering.

"It's Rhiannon," she corrected absentmindedly as she gazed in awe at the multitude.

The medics hurried out onto the field, retrieving the two norn, Seven, and Darius on stretchers. The quaggan and the red charr both recovered enough to walk and were limping on their own off the arena towards the medical ward. A healer approached Rhiannon, but the guardian waved him off.

"I've got this one covered," Grindik assured, then placed a palm on Rhiannon's abdomen, casting a healing spell.

The pain disintegrated beneath his paw she felt a rush of energy through her body.

"Better?" he asked.

She stood upright without his support, testing herself.

"Yes! Thank you!"

She turned to the audience and waved, and the crowds cheered louder, and began chanting "Rosy Twig Rhiannon!" or "Lead Dancers!" and even a few started up a chant for "Grindik Nametaker" in more appreciation for his good 'sports-charr-ship.'

Amidst her excitement at the crowd's adoration and her internal debate about how she could pursue a career in the arena and balance it with her wanderlust, something nagged at Rhiannon.

"I'm disremembering something…" gasp! "My companions! Seven! Darius! Are you alright?" she cried while hurrying after the medics, eliciting laughter from the crowd as she repeatedly turned back and waved between expressions of concern.

She caught up with Seven's stretcher first and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Seven? Seven! Are you severely damaged? Seven!"

He groaned and one ice-blue eye opened. "Huh? Oh, it's you Rhia, I'm alri-ght." His eye closed and he drifted back into semi-consciousness.

Rhiannon sighed in relief and hurried to Darius, who had been moved from stretcher to cot and had a couple healers repairing the injuries done to him by the Nice Guardian Grindik, as Rhiannon had dubbed him, emphasis on the nice.

"Darius, how are your sensations?"

"You mean how am I feeling?" he replied gruffly.

"My way is better."

"No it's not," Darius countered.

"Debatable."

He signed and continued, "Yes, I am fine, but I hurt like I've had an ogre sit on me. Once we're out, I'm going to give Nametaker a piece of my blade!"

"But he is so nice!"

"Huh?"

"Grindik, he's extraordinary and pleasant!"

Darius shook his head in disbelief. "Were we really in the same arena?"

Rhiannon seemed to ignore the question and again started fussing over him. "Are you well? You'll repair, affirmative?"

"Yes Rhia, I'm fine, let the healer do her job!" He glanced over at the charr tending his wounded abdomen. "Hey sweetie, enjoy the show?"

The healer's shiny whiskers parted in a sideways grin, but she did not reply and continued with her work, seeming all too used to love-sick arena fighters.

"So, we won, does that mean we are free?" Rhiannon asked.

"Yeah," Darius replied, "Assuming the norn was telling the truth."

From his bed, a weary Seven raised a defiant paw, "Don't forget the winnings!" His paw flopped back down and he began gently snoring.

In the dark shadows within a groove in the arena's irregular architecture, a figure peeked through a fresh hole in the roof. The hunter's eyes widened at the sight of the black charr and his two companions, injured and vulnerable.

"There you are…" the hunter muttered, raising a gauntleted hand, finger tips armed with soot darkened steel in the shape of wicked long claws. The figure took a few steps back, readying himself to crash through the roof and kill the only survivor of his art.

"Stop!"

The hunter looked up. Standing on the pinnacle of the arena's vaulted roof stood a norness, whose hair flowed like rippling wheat in the twilight breeze. She drew her daggers as the figure below cloaked himself in darkness.

Mother Dwayna, give me strength. Inna prayed as she stepped into the realm of shadows.

"Cliff Hanger, hanging from a cliff!"

Just to warn my readers now, all the chapters until the end of Act II will likely end with these, sorry, no breaks for you!

And for those lore savvy folks among you, you may notice that Inna, a norn, is praying to Dwayna, a human goddess. I wish to assure you now that yes, in the official lore there is room for a norn to follow the human religion, and also there is a specific plot reason behind Inna's difference of religion from the majority of her race.

Also, this story has always been about emphasising the changing times. With all the races increasingly living side by side with one another, it stands to reason that culture, social connections, and religion would cross once wide divides that are now ever growing closer. Biologically, the five major races will always be drastically different from one another, but as time goes on, their cultural divides will become less about biology and more about shared values and history. In game this can already be seen in the Orders, Lion's Arch, and in Ascalon where humans and charr are now living side by side as citizens of a jointly governed region in the Fields of Ruin.

I look forward to writing the next chapter, I have a picture in my mind, and I hope it's going to be just as explosive on paper (or in reality, Wordpad).