Accidents Happen

~*An island off the coast*~

Characters Involved:

Zaichrad, a smuggler

Viska, Welch, and Whiteclaw, bandits

The wind is rough today, making flight somewhat more of a chore than the hawk would have liked. Catching a wavering air current, Zaichrad gains altitude, casting a glance back towards the fading white line of the beach behind him, lazily climbing higher and sailing towards an endless expanse of blue. This cold, though, will be the death of him - it bites into his very soul. The hare, of course, is better suited for this. Her silly, knitted oddities keep him comfortable back on the ship, but they are useless anywhere else - and he refuses to wear the ridiculous scarf she made him. Despite the chill, his will to stretch his wings and catch a break from the furred-beasts and their eccentric living habits is too strong. His wings make him useful - offer him a purpose to their operation and it would be a disservice to Kympa to allow them to fall into disuse. He needs to stay sharp, and he has a job to do.

Far below a small camp fire lights up the beach like a beacon. Along the shore there is a long boat pulled deep into the sand and a small camp with many supplies strewn about the area.

The left overs of a celebration it would seem.

The pine marten groans loudly as she stirs from her slumber. The beasts normally lithe and sleek frame is broken by a life time of glut and sloth and good beer. The obese creature stands and stretches, her stomach still so full of food and ale from last night that a sliver of flesh can be seen down her middle.

The fox and lizard are in a simular sate of groggyness. The silver fox wears only a pair of trousers about his more muscular frame, the lizard wears a set of leather armor, that he leaves resting on the sand next to him while curling tighter in his bed cloth, falling back to sleep.

Today was, after all a day of celebration. It was the first day of their new found fortune. No more simple theivery for them, they could live pretty well off of the haul they stole for the next month at the very least.

The scroll stuck through a strap at his back is always a pain to fly with, especially in conditions like this - tugging and catching the wind - and Zaichrad decides to angle back along the shoreline to avoid the more violent winds out at sea. They probably didn't take off in a ship, anyway. The campfire draws the hawk's attention, first, but even from his vantage point he knows that something is off about this lot. Some instinct deep in his gut tells him that these /are/ the nasties that he is looking for. He /could/ just swoop down, rain death upon them from above, and then be on his way, but Kympa was very big on making sure that he was eating the /right/ beasts before doing any actual killing. What a bore. Circling round, the hawk swings back towards the beach, drifting lower and lower on the breeze - something the wind strives to make as difficult as possible. They appear to be sleeping - perfect! He can just swoop in, check to make sure that they are, indeen, in possession of the stolen cargo, and then gut them all like trout before they so much as bat an eyelid. Zeek goes in for a soft, sandy, sneaky landing nearby, but a sudden upstart of wind drags him off course and brings him down a good deal rougher - and noisier - than he had intended.

Drunk as they are the beasts arn't drunk enough to miss that noise. "What was that?" Asks the silver fox.

"Probibly the waves crashing against the sand." The marten replies as she sits down to cook breakfast. It is the most important part of the day after all, even if one is already full enough to explode with food and drink.

"Yeah, but I thought I heard...something."

"Then quit botherin me 'bout it and go check it out already." The marten growls. Rolling his eyes the silver fox pulls on his sword belt, admitedly a few notches looser than he is used to. After securing each short sword to his hip the fox grumbles something about lazy pine martens before heading out to check on the noise.

The noise is Zaichrad, and the group is not as inert as they seemed to be while he was coming in. Massive as he is, it's difficult for the hawk to, say, duck behind bushes but he tries to make himself as small as possible as he slowly backs away into the vegetation bordering the shoreline. The hare is in for a walloping when he finally returns - all of this sneaking around on foot is going to be the death of him. Ah, screw it. His hiding skills are pitiful, but he doesn't consider himself to be half bad as an actor! As the fox approaches his hiding spot, Zeek lets out a mighty screech of feigned surprise, and takes wing hastily, as if surprised and frightened by the beast, to alight in a dilapidated ghost of a pine tree, the brittle bark crackling and shedding beneath his talons as he now regards them from his new vantage point. He lets one wing hang, as if injured. Nothing to see here, just a hawk, weary and battered and just looking to rest awhile...All the while those golden eyes scan their camp

A high pitched scream permiates the air as the fox falls onto his tail in terror. He glances behind him to catch the judgemental looks of his friends and chuckles nervously.

"What in the blazesss are you making all that noissse for?" The lizard hisses.

"A big bloody bird, that's why! Th-there is a hawk over here!"

The pair of thieves glance at the hawk as it climbs the tree. The lizard and pine marten exchange looks, then both smile.

Standing up to stretch the lizard grabs his spear, dragging it across the ground as he moves to assist his fellow fox. "Then quit messssin around and go grab usss ssupper." He thrusts the spear at the fox before returning to the camp to assist the pine marten with breakfast.

Ears flat the vulpine mimics the lizard silently as he walks closer to the hawk, spear at the ready, "Come here birdy birdy birdy. I ain't going to hurt you. I'm just going to roast you and eat you for supper!" He says in a sweet voice. As he get's closer he pauses to examine the bird in closer detail, "Wait...what is that on your back? Are you wearing...?"

Well, Kympa never said anything about avoiding self-defense! As the fox approaches him with some very clear intentions, Zaichrad prepares himself for the attack. But the vulpine notices the scroll at his back. It is of little consequence to Zeek if someone innocent of the theft were to notice the scroll, however if it happens that this /is/ the scum he's looking for, he would rather not tip them off too early...But there is something to be said for the hare's reluctance for wanton murder - "Never kill off a potential customer." She would say, though he knows her to just be soft at heart. Ah codswallop, he is intimidating, is he not? He'll try things her way: intimidation and misguided diplomacy. Slowly, so as not to startle the fox into attacking him prematurely, the hawk turns his beak to the container on his back and plucks the scroll free. He let's it float to the ground and it lands, conveniently, face up. "Dear thieves," It begins. "I cannot help but notice that a selection of my cargo has gone missing. Now, I understand that accidents happen, so if you would like to return the goods to my associate here, then apologies will be accepted with no questions asked. However, because accidents do happen, my friend here may make one of his own. He tends to become rather ill-mannered when hungry, my apologies. Dearest thanks, Kympa Shy." The hawk has dropped his 'injured wing' act completely and instead stares down with a cool intensity.

The fox picks up the letter to read, ears dropping lower and lower as he does. Slowly he peers up into the cool stair of the bird, "Oh cra-" He begins, gripping the spear defensivly, he begins to shout, "Vaski...oh VASKIIII...we have a probleeeem."

His fellow thieves however don't come, assuming that the fox is just being his usual lazy self they continue to feast on their plundered food. The fox, left to his own devices, then thrusts the spear meanicingly towards the bird, "Back! Back! Get away before I run you through!"

Ah, well, that answers that question. The fox's reaction gives the bird just cause to assume that this must be the right set of thieves. Like it or not, the fox shall be his translator and messenger this morning, and Zaichrad sets his sights on the gluttonous beasts now feasting on some rather familiar provisions. Spreading his great wings wide, he propels himself from the branch and in two beats he is upon the campsite. He lands, roughly, spraying sand as he does and stands to his full, considerable height, wings still spread, in front of the group. His gaze slides to their plunder and that glare deepens. Diplomacy, he reminds himself. Good business, as Kympa would tell him (repeatedly). Now, where did that fox go with his letter?

The beasts halt in their feast. Muzzles full of ill gotten foods they slowly turn to look at the monster of a hawk behind them. Shock soon hits them with terror following in quick succession.

It is here that the fox's spear sails over the birds head, missing him by inches, and landing into the camp fire causing both beasts to jump. "Ah blast..." the fox sighs. His aim really is off. Well, back to what he does best. Drawing both swords he comes running at the camp, "Vaski! Welch! Run! RUN!"

So much for diplomacy...

No, no, this isn't what he wanted at all. But, well, if they're running he could just pack his things and go, yes? This thought does not persist long in his mind. Where would be the fun in that? He lets out a harsh and angry cry, fury giving rise to rage as the spear flies its benign course past him. He is in the air again in a flash, talons outstretched for the fox. Why would he not deliver the letter? Zaichrad tried to be peaceful and civil - /wanted/ to be peaceful and civil, but scum will be scum at the end of the day. The world will not miss these pitiful and greedy excuses for flesh, and neither will he. Veering to the left and staying low to the ground, the hawk circles around the fox before a talon stretches towards the beast's back to pin him down and, as sometimes happens, run him through.

The fox let's out a yelp as he is forced face first into the sand. "Vaski! Welsh! Don't run! DON'T RUN!" He shouts for his friends to come and save him. To their credit, they actually do! Well, at least one of them does. Vaski the pine marten turns and runs for a chest near the camp fire, tossing it open and trowing possesion about the sand.

As she does Welsh throws on his leather chest peice with out buckling it. He grabs a war axe and comes running at the bird, gripping the weapon in both paws with a loud hiss as he comes to slash at the hawk!

Zaichrad snaps his beak, threateningly, at the oncoming lizard, keeping the fox pinned beneath him. He will make short work of this lot. Lifting himself free of the sand, he tightens his grip about the fox and only ascends a solid foot or so from the ground before bodily /throwing/ the beast at his scaly companion. The hawk follows shortly after, wings flapping noisily to give him a boost of speed and balance, but he does not leave the ground after heaving the vulpine at his companion. Instead, he runs along the sand to get a more solid start before his momentum carries him forward and up, skimming over top of the lizard with a passing slash, rather than attacking him head on. Angling upwards, he ascends to circle the camp from a safer distance. Maybe they'll come to their senses and further consider the generous offer that had been provided to them.

The lizard and fox both shout in panic as one is launched into the chest of the other, causing them to tumble and fall into one giant furry / scaly heap.

"Whiteclaw you fluff bottomed jackwagon what did you /DO/!" The pine marten growls as she continues to rumage through the chest.

"It's not my fault!" The fox shouts back as he stands up to one knee, "THe ship we robbed, they want their stuff back!"

"Oh, is that all..." The pinemarten smiles deviously as she finds her weapon of choise, hefting a large cross bow out of the chest and arming it as quickly as she can. "Well then my bird brained friend, allow me to give you back what we stole, at high velocity!"

She raises the cross bow, taking aim, and pulls the trigger.

Zaichrad should have let the hare attach his flight armor before he took off. Seeing the familiar weapon - Kympa's /favorite/ weapon - the hawk knows that he needs to get much higher. He climbs, vertically, and is barely out of range by the time the bolt is sent his way. The crossbow complicates things, but it does not make them impossible. The cargo was one thing, but he didn't know that they had apparently made off with a few personal effects as well. Then he remembers: his companion was never the neatest, and organize their crates and things as he might, she was still prone to dropping the thing wherever she took it off. It must have been on top of the supplies they stole, and he /has/ to get it back. He dives for the pine marten, rotating once with the momentum - he will rip her limb from limb for daring to touch the crossbow, for having the /audacity/ to use it against /him/. He will return it to Kympa with the marten's arms still clutching it, if he has to. Recklessly attacking straight on, he banks on his combination of speed and intimidation, talons outstretched, to reach her before she has the time to reload and take deadly aim.

Zai Zaichrad> Foot paw on the cross bow the marten frantically tries to set the string for another shot. She manages to look up in time to see Zeek decending upon her. Her eyes wide she let's out a terrified chitter and falls as flat as she can against the ground.

Zai Zaichrad> Unfortunetly, when one has a belly the size of a large drum clinging to their waist that isn't a very far distance. Paws over her head the pine martens torso and rump stick out far enough into the air to make it easy enough for even a sparrow to pick her up...

And that is exactly what happens. Zaichrad plucks the pine marten and Kympa's crossbow from the sand, reveling in her screeches. They both know that this is the end for her; a fate which she sealed herself - the weapon, on the other hand, is of special importance, and he /will/ take it from those greedy claws. His flight is labored by the sheer weight of the female, but he isn't going to relieve himself of it until the bow is safe and sound - so he clutches her in his talons as he snatches at the crossbow with his beak, slowly struggling to flap the two higher and higher into the air. The remaining thieves are ignored, for now, the hawk singularly fixated on retrieving his friend's most prized possession.

Scrunching tighter like a ball as she is lifted into the sky the marten let's out a terrified ear splitting screach, this is a nightmare! "No! Not like this! I don't want to die like this!" Releasing her grip on the cross bow the marten tries to grab ahold of Zeeks leg with both paws, her terrified eyes unable to tear themselves away from the ground far below.

Gleefully, Zaichrad clutches the crossbow in his beak, ripped from the paws of his adversary. Her screams are not foreign to him - he's heard the same chant a thousand times. They beg, they plead, they bargain... In his experience, a brush with death rarely makes a better beast out of these types. And, for some reason, they always try to hang on to his legs, like that will do them any good. Sorry, Viska, he isn't taking requests today. The hawk lets go.

But the marten doesn't fall. Fueled by the deadly drop below the marten only digs her claws in, hanging off of the hawk like a sack of heavy potatoes. "GEYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! Put me down! Put me down!" She shouts frantically as she curls up into a ball.

Her freinds can only watch as the beast carries their companion away. "You know what I'm thinking Welsh?" The fox says to the lizard. "I'm thinking that Virska is going to die. And when the hawk get's done killin her he is going to come back to kill us."

"So...grab all the loot we can and make off like bandits?" The lizard asks.

"Yes. Let's." The two thieves begin to grab all the loot their greedy little paws can carry.

Well, this is annoying. As Zaichrad twists back towards the camp in an attempt to shake the Marten loose, he spies the other two doing what thieves do - stealing. Again. Something about the irony of the betrayal strikes the hawk, and he swings back towards the beach. Viska, still clinging desperately to his leg, throws off the delicate balance of flight, but he still manages a clumsy half-landing, dragging his baggage through the sand and still clutching the crossbow in his beak. Her will to save her own skin and her comrades attempt to leave her to her death have saved her, it would seem. Kympa always told him to let /one/ escape, to spread the word that they were not an operation to be stolen from. Or double crossed. Or subject to assassination attempts. These two, on the other hand, just became his new targets. Screeching, a talon rents through the fabric of one of the tents as he crashes his way through the camp in an attempt to get back into the air after shaking the Marten loose, swinging his formidable talons at the lizard and the fox as he prepares to climb for another dive. He likes it when they scatter.

The marten let's out a single squeak as she is thrown from the eagles grasp, coming to a final landing face first in the sand with her tail end flipped over her head. "OooOoOooOw..." She manages to gasp.

Whiteclaw and Welsh though are in hot water and they know it. Still clutching his ill gotton loot the fox takes off to the right. The lizard drops his gear though, turning in an act of bravery (or perhaps desperation) to ready his ax to swing at the Zeek!

The marten is left, crumpled, in the sand, as Zaichrad struggles clumsily back into the air, still trailing a bit of tent with him. The lizard and his axe don't make an appetizing duo but the fox, on the other hand, gives her an idea. Shedding the bits of the campsite that he had pulled skyward with him, Zeek makes another dive for the fox - arms laden with /his/ things as they are, and aims to scoop him up as he did with Viska. He's accepted that some of the goods will be damaged, by this point - he's here more for the statement than for the actual cargo.

The fox's steps become slower and his ears flatten as he realizes that he is about to be next to be attacked. "Ah cr-" he manages to say before he is lifted from the ground. "Whiteclaw!" The lizard shouts, waving his axe about in the air. Whiteclaw replies with blood curdling screams.

Zaichrad gives the fox a little shake as he climbs, trying to dislodge as much of the stolen supplies as possible. He's lighter than the marten was, and the hawk's grace of flight is returned to him as he circles slowly higher. Now, this next bit is tricky and requires a good deal more consummation. Narrowing his eyes and aligning himself midair, the bird tucks his wings and begins to plummet back towards the lizard. At the last second, though, those wings snap open once again, bringing the hawk in a low sweep over Welsh's head. But, before he does, he - again - uses the fox as a projectile against his companion. Admittedly with a good deal more velocity, this time around.

It's hard to tell which hurts more, being the bludgeoned or the bludgeoned-ee. A soft hiss escapes the lips of the lizard, easily drowned out by the fox's scream as they colide. The lizard is thrown onto his back where he doesn't move, the fox goes limp as well, either stunned or unconcious.

Wonderful! It's always nice when that move works. Twisting back around, Zaichrad doesn't waste time in moving to dispatch of the two. He goes for the lizard, first, since he was the more deadly of the two. As the hawk stands over Welsh and the fox, golden eyes gleaming with a cruel, deadly light. His gaze turns back to the Pine Marten. She has to know that he is /letting/ her go. Her life was his to do with as he pleased, and she will get to go about her business for another day, at least. With a low tittering note, he glares at her and keeping that gaze steady, bends over to begin his meal...