Shadow Hawk Saga - Atriax

Only an arrow from an expert ranger's bow makes no sound. It's a very special technique, which takes years of practice and dedication. An arrow from the weapon of a moderately experienced bowman's shot can be heard quite clearly however. There is a short whistling sound as it cuts through the air, followed by a thud if the shot rings true. Atriax heard a similarly loud sound, causing him to bring up one of his curved swords to deflect the projectile to the ground. The odd ranger responded with his own bow, calmly but quickly unhitching it from the special notch in his armour. The attacker was still staring in awe at his deflected missile, when the deadly and silent arrow placed itself in his forehead, killing him instantly.

That was the third attack on their little group that day. Atriax had been paid well to defend the rich merchant and his servants as they crossed the bandit-filled mountains of Ralt. He wore expensive leather armour, enchanted to repel metal, a pair of curved swords, both carefully looked after and sharpened. His main weapon, his deadly bow, was of Moon Elf origin, the string enchanted never to snap. The arrows he used had a curved hook on one side, adding extra balance, and causing even more damage if they were pulled out. Not that that was really necessary, seeing as most of these missiles caused instant death when fired from the swift dark elf's bow.

The merchant declared he was tired and wished to set up camp. Atriax laid down on a mat outside the merchants tent. The servants were keeping watch, so he let himself fall into the light meditation-like sleep of his race, but not before freeing Ilyx, his only consistent companion, from his traveling cage. The others didn't feel comfortable with the hawk-like creature about, but he knew they'd never see him in the darkening sky. Ilyx called out happily, in it's melodic, otherworldly art. Those that could hear it, knew it was actually a gentle creature, but it's appearance, feathers black as coal, and it's beak a beautiful gold, with smoky trails falling behind it's wings, had more than a few people feeling uncomfortable. Ilyx was a shadow hawk, a common friend of the dark elves. As she raised out of her large cage, she spanned out her dark wings, and flew into the night. Atriax wasn't worried about her leaving, he knew she'd come back. They were joined spiritually, each knowing exactly the others intentions, thoughts and emotions. As he was watching her swooping and diving, he fell asleep.