Soar Like a Hawk

[WuHanXianShi14 0]

Spoiler

 

 

Artimec awoke in a spell.

 

He blinked drearily as he took in his surroundings, they were the same as usual. An oaken ceiling above, silk sheets below. To his left, a nightstand with several scrolls and tomes stacked atop of it. To his right, a woman lay, sound asleep next to him. She had pale skin and silver hair. He didn’t remember this woman’s name.

 

He sighed and rolled away from her soundly sleeping figure. The spell he’d awoken under was broken, and the weight which consumed him had returned. What had happened yesterday? He remembered preaching before the shrine, acolytes by his side. One by one they said their oaths and sliced their palms before the sacred brazier of the Aspects. Later, he remembered bustling about the clinic, shooing people outside as he concocted a brew of mandragora and frost-vine for an elfess with shattered ribs. He remembered climbing up the austere steps of the Linandria plateau to his home, the woman waiting for him at his front door. They’d gone inside, then…

 

His memories ended there, and he was back in the present. The pale elfess still lay beside him, murmuring soundly in her stupor. Artimec sighed and pushed himself up to a sitting position, slinging his robe on to cover himself. He looked back down. This didn’t mean anything of course, it was a fling. A dalliance. He’d been swept up in yet another night of cheap intimacy to help him forever the pressures of the day. His enemies- and his friends for that matter, degraded him. A *****, a hedonist, a man without morals.

 

He’d long since stopped caring. These elopements, empty as they felt in the end, still provided at least fleeting escape from his realities. Every elf of Linandria hurt was a blow to him personally. Every lost limb, every life lost in a scuffle. Every individual turned to a dark path, a soul he could not save. Life as a leader was heavy, he deserved to indulge himself. Besides, if the world was going to think him a ***** anyway, why try to prove them wrong?

 

At least, that’s what he told himself. Every day a little bit less of him actually believed it.

 

---

 

Artimec finally climbed out of bed, causing his companion to only stir a little, still asleep. He rose up and slipped into his attire, he then slung his hunting bow over his shoulder. Leaned against the bedpost before him lay his druidic staff, an ironwood construct as tall as he was. He gazed upon the garnished hawk carved unto the staff’s head. Talon was the staff’s name. It looked so proud, the hawk’s crest staring so confidently ahead, looking forward to the future. The archdruid could only wish he himself still held the same aura. He gripped it and strode out of the house.

 

 

Artimec felt a gust of chilly wind as soon as he stepped outside. The Caerme’onn seed manor had been built right atop city walls, a direct drop into the murky lake below that surrounded Linandria. The Archdruid looked in two directions.

 

He looked to the city, the sun had begun to rise, and that meant the people would be beginning their daily routines. For him, that meant dedicants to teach, acolytes to mentor, fights to break up and complaints to hear out. Yet another full day of being dragged in one direction to another.

 

He looked across the walls and saw wilderness. The morning dew called to him. The elder trees of Laureh’lin swayed in the gentle morning breeze and the songbirds serenaded his greeting. It was always tempting to just run away into the wild, escape it all. But he never did, he had duties of course. Still, some days the sway was heavier than others.

 

Artimec felt a ringing in his ear. He grimaced, then felt compelled to look up at the sky. He saw a golden-tailed hawk spread its wings and soar in a circle in the open air above him. His totem animal. The bird of prey swooped down and into the wild forest below. The elf knew a sign when he saw it.

 

He gripped his staff tightly, and proceeded to dive gracefully off the city wall, into the lake below.

 

Spoiler

 

 

The cinnamon skinned wood elf swam and swam, cutting through the still waters until he reached the shore. His robe clung to his skin, soaking wet. He reaffirmed his hold on his staff and used it to push himself to his feet on the sandy beach. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Something was different today. He hadn’t just run off on a whim, he was being called upon.

 

He heard a hiss in the thicket.

 

Artimec’s pointed ears perked. His dim emerald eyes panned across the treeline to single out the noise. Out of the thicket popped the beady eyes of a cobra snake, sticking its forked tongue out defiantly at the druid. The beast then slid back into the vegetation, slithering off.

 

 

Artimec knew he had to follow.

 

---

 

Hours had passed.

 

The lights of Linandria had long since faded into the distance. Artimec was in the deep wild now, and this was where he felt most at home. He had found himself growing rather irritable, following this ghost of a slithering serpent through the forest. Every so often he would lose track of the trail. When that happened he would take in a deep breath and close his eyes, his eyes would glow a faint celadon green, and he would continue after the snake. Yet as he followed, he would attempt to commune, with the snake, with anything really. The Aspects could surely hear him either way.

 

Why have you brought me out here?

How am I to serve my gods?

Is this beast a messenger of your will?

 

As if taunting him with non-answers, the snake would pop its head out the thicket, hiss its forked tongue at the elf then slither onwards. Artimec could do nothing but continue trailing after it.

 

Eventually they came upon a cliff. Gulls soared above, squabbling with one another. The treeline had ended just a bit before the drop. The cobra had slithered ahead, into the plain open. Artimec strode out as well, brushing foliage off his shoulder. The two stood, facing one another, elf and beast. The snake opened its mouth and hissed at Artimec, its fangs showing. But it didn’t display anger, only resignation. For it knew its purpose had been served, and its time had come.

 

A piercing screech broke the melancholic sky.

 

 

Wide wings cast a shadow upon the cobra, and soon a blur of talons snatched up the serpentine beast. The pierce-eyed hawk had been soaring above the two the whole time, and had now come to claim it's prey. The cobra squirmed and writhed within the predatory avian’s grip until it eventually went still and limp.

 

With a fresh kill in its grasp, the hawk circled idly over the stoic-eyed elf. The two shared a similar gaze, a similar understanding. The hawk beckoned to hawk druid in the form of a screech, and flew off, back into the trees. Artimec grunted with new resolve, intent on following his new target. He backpedaled back into the treeline, his eyes scanning upwards.

 

And in the branches, he saw a nest.

 

---

 

Artimec climbed, his knees were scraped against the bark and his knuckles were dug raw, but he persisted. He hauled himself onto a branch strong enough to support his weight, and eventually ascended up to the hawk’s nest, one hand gripping a perpendicular branch while his feet found solid footing. There he saw the majestic bird, the corpse of the cobra was now hung in its beak. The golden-eyed beast stared the archdruid right in the eye, then tossed the serpent’s corpse down into the bed of twigs between them.

 

This was a ritual. A sacred moment between two souls who were bound to the Aspects, bound to beginnings and bound to ends. With his raw hands, Artimec ripped the cobra’s corpse in half, creating a spray of blood and viscera. He tossed the head end to the hawk while he himself kept the tail. He raised the gory prize in a sort of ‘cheers’ motion, and with a deep breath, devoured the raw meat, skin, guts and all. The hawk flapped its wings idly in approval and did the same, tossing the other half of the snake down its gullet.

 

Artimec grimaced. There had been venom in that serpents corpse. He felt his vision flash. He was suddenly back in his manor, pale elfess lying at his side. No… he was in the thicket, following the snake. A flash of pain. He was lying in a battlefield, surrounded by corpses, arrows, the stink of death. A bright white flash. Now he was soaring, across the sky, unbound.

 

He woke up, gasping. Staring into his eyes was the golden gaze of the hawk, as if he’d been waiting for Artimec to come to this whole time. A heavy solemnity covered them both like a blanket, and with a collective understanding, both hawk and elf came to realize their duty.

 

The archdruid began perilously clambering down the tree, back onto the grassy surface on which he was most comfortable. The hawk spread its wings and took to the sky, soaring far into the clouds above him. Artimec strode out beyond the treeline once more, to the cliffside with the churning ocean beneath him.

 

He slung his bow off of his back.

 

He closed his eyes.

 

He knocked an arrow, pulled back on the drawstring, and pointed his aim skywards.

He opened his eyes.

 

The hawk swooped down from the sky furiously, dive bombing the druid. Its aurum gaze was furious, intense. It had accepted Artimec’s challenge and embraced the role it was to play in the elf’s destiny. The two met their gazes one last time, a fleeting moment, a split second.

 

Artimec let the arrow fly.

 

The hawk landed with a resounding thud, somewhere behind him. The bodkin arrowhead had pierced the predator’s heart, and now it lay still. As the archdruid approached the felled creature, he felt a pit in his stomach. Rarely did he feel remorse for his kills anymore, but for this hawk, this beast whom he saw as his equal, he felt sorrow. Yet, this had been necessary. This was the path that Brother Buffalo had sent him on; the only way he could become one with the secret arts. He had been sent on this path, but in the end the path had found him.

 

Artimec knelt down and plucked a crown of feathers from the hawk’s crest. He fashioned them together and placed them in his hair, under his ears. With two fingers, he closed the hawk’s eyes.

 

“Rest now, Brother.”

 

His eyes began to emit a dim green glow. Gnarled roots slithered out of the grass and formed a vice grip around the bird’s corpse, dragging it underneath the surface to return its body to the wild.

 

Suddenly, Artimec grimaced again, a flash of pain erupting through his frontal cortex.

 

He was soaring once more. Across the air, the sky was no burden. The ground below him was a blur. Trees making way for plains, plains making way for desert, desert making way for vast oceans. He was the hawk, and this was his domain. He was the beast, and this was the Aspect’s gift, to let him see the wild through eyes no man nor elf could ever imagine possessing.

 

---

 

He awoke with a start.

 

He blinked drearily as he took in his surroundings, they were the same as usual. An oaken ceiling above, silk sheets below. To his left, a nightstand with several scrolls and tomes stacked atop of it. To his right, a woman lay, sound asleep next to him.

 

Had it all been a dream?

 

Artimec gently pressed his fingers into his hair. He felt feathers, the very same he’d plucked from the hawk’s corpse and adorned himself with. Yes, it had been real. It had to have been. Artimec ripped himself out of bed. He threw on his clothing and rushed out the bedroom, struggling to yank on his moccasins. A drowsy feminine voice called out from behind him.

 

“My prince, is everything okay?”

 

Artimec grunted as he hopped about on one foot eagerly, shoving his second sole into his shoe.

 

“All is fine! I just… got a message is all.”

 

“A message… in your sleep?”

 

“Yes… yes. From the Aspects.”

 

The woman, evidently used to this sort of zealous babble from the archdruid, rolled her eyes and curled back into the covers, falling asleep once more. Artimec paid her no mind. He climbed up the ladder and rushed out the door to find Brother Buffalo, Sena, his mentor.

 

His task was complete. Now was the time for him to become one with the Hawk.

 

 

[Slothtastic 761]

((Very neat, very neat. Good post))

[Bvie 1754]

She looked at the bird, perched on her balcony. 

 

Uncommon for this area, the hawk's large eyes stared at her as she stepped out and looked upon the shore, her hands running over the smooth stone railing. She dipped her head lightly, offering the bird of prey a good morning, and received a sharp cry in return before flying into the dense forest that decorated the shore.

 

A smile crept across her face as she watched the bird take flight and as it soared she thought of her friend.

[DelaneyG 1279]

Milton Lowedge goes about bastion, unaware that any of this has happened. ((nice read))

[mitto 2312]

Moved to The Great Library. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.

 

If you feel this is a mistake, please contact myself or any FM and we'll restore it.