Tiger BlackHawk - The Blackhawk Meets the Tiger

THE BLACKHAWK
MEETS
THE TIGER

TIGER BLACKHAWK

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2016 Tiger BlackHawk. All rights reserved.

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Published by AuthorHouse 09/16/2016

ISBN: 978-1-5246-4013-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5246-4014-9 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5246-4012-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016915426

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CONTENTS

A Fantasy Adventure

S hadows flickered about the clearing as two shadows sat around a small campfire, the fire burning low and gentle. Their voices like whispers upon the wind. Silence held about them as they stared into the flames reflecting upon their past lives, each with a past they wished to forget. The air crisp about them as they pulled their cloaks tighter. It was fate that had brought these two to this same gathering, one place in the middle of darkness. Two men searching for a home, a place where they could be respected and welcomed. They were outcast of society, alone with only each other to call a brother. A drow elf with dark skin and yellow eyes, his ears pointed unlike a humans and his hair as white as snow. Like most other elven races he was of a rather thin frame and slightly taller than the average human. This man was a skilled hunter, yet he had powers that would rival most mages. His cloak a dusty brown made of a boars hide, leathers to keep him warm on this brisk night. He often wore a black cloak with a cowl to conceal his features from the rest of the world. But he could not hide those yellow eyes. Some thought of him to be akin to devils. The world would one day realize he wasnt the one to fear. He was only known as The Sh adow.

Across from this drow sat another man. He appeared normal to most. But there was something dark about this man. Something that would make grown men shake in their very boots. This night he too wore black, he had a hawk shaped mask over most of his face, his forehead and those eyes were all that showed. Those eyes. they were a piercing blue. Most that spoke of him would mention his piercing eyes, they said it was as if he could peer into a mans soul. As if he could see all that was held within. He had this power to make people do things with just a look. He always wore black gloves, a black cloak, and a black cowl that covered his head. He would walk in the shadows like a ghost. He was not a big man, only about five foot and nine inches. The only visible weapon upon his person was a black hilted sword, when pulled they said his steel was as black as the darkest moonless night. This was the man that the world would learn to fear. He would make his name known to all as The Black Hawk.

Who am I? I am the story teller of their adventures. Stories given to me by the witnesses and pieced together over the years. Stories that men themselves spoke to me before their passing. I shall be the bard that guides you through this unusual story. Not just of these two men, but of four men. An entangled web of deceit, honor, heroism, death, greed and yes even of love. For now, you may call me bard, a story teller, you may place your coins in my small box should you find them of any v alue.

I suppose I should tell you of these other two men that will become an important part of this worlds history. Perhaps I should wait before I unveil the heroes of this story. Or were they truly heroes? I learned that it is often hard to tell them apart. Let us cont inue.

The third man in this story, amazingly, is a shadow of a being. He has no facial features, most that looked upon him feared him. Yet he appeared to be a very good and honest man. He always wore a cloak of black and his image seemed to waver as he moved. He seemed clouded by shadows even on a bright summers day. He was not someone most would respect or learn to love. They say that appearances can be very deceiving. As if to look upon something in one light, only to later learn it was not as it seemed. It was never fully known as to what this man was. If given enough coin in my hat, I might reveal the truths within my tales. Or perhaps I dont know the truths as to the answers of this man. But what is a tale worth if there isnt at least some mystery? This man, the world came to know as Leftner or The Dark One.

The fourth man.

With a pause Silver stopped telling his story to those who listened within the tavern. His fingers moved to rake through silver and black striped hair as he paused for those listening to drop in a few coins. There was something about this fourth man that seemed to peek the interest of his listeners. This was Silvers way to make a few extra coins as he journeyed along the lands. This man wasnt a normal Bard by no means, yet the stories rolled off his tongue like a magical tune as he spoke. Those listening moved closer to hear the tales of one man. The man that would change their history. Silver nodded once to his audience and once more began to tell his t ales.

This fourth man often dressed in white, he had tigers embroidered upon each of his sleeves, over his heart and across his back. He wore no mask to conceal his identity. Across his back was a golden hilted sword and when drawn its steel shined of a light blue glow. He was a man of power, a man that all feared. He had these striking blue eyes that could draw the wind from the north and send it to attack the east. His eyes were so similar to that of the BlackHawk that most wondered if they had at one time been brothers. He was the rival of all that was evil. No one stood before him, even the Gods themselves quaked in his path. The demons fled from his presence, he was Lord Tigerous Kunig! His name translated meant The Tiger King. This was the man that the world learned to respect and others would love with all of their he arts.

Silver reached over to take up a mug of ale and smiled as he looked across the tavern at those who now listened to the story he was beginning to weave. Were they true stories? Or did he make them up? It matter not to the audience as more coins found their way to his hat. His blue eyes took in his audience one more time, then he leaned forward and began to tell the stories of four men. I too sat closer to hear his w ords.

T he story begins at that small campfire so many years ago. As I had said, silence held the two men that stared into that fire. They walked a path whom fate had put upon each of them. They had only one gift, a piece, bestowed upon them from some unknown power which they never revealed. Maybe they stole these items. What were their powers? To this day that remains a secret. But the drow wore a medallion upon his forehead. It was said to harness his powers and made him a stronger mage. His name came to be known as The Shadow for he always walked behind the BlackHawk, as if he was a shadow of the man. This man that sat across from Shadow had this sword that could carve a dragon like a loaf of bread, or so the stories often told. There was a darkness to his soul that was unmatched by the evils of hell itself. Though even with this dark shadow that lived within him, there as an odd light. Could it have been a spark of good within something so vile? Not likely of a man who would cut your head off for all the world to see, then boldly walk away as if to challenge anyone to do anything about it. All who got close to this man ended up as food for the w orms.