By will of fate, she knew it had to have happened some time. With the amount of power Vitruvion had, and the many long pale fingers he had stretched in various projects, that had significant effect overseas, there simply had to have been some enemies made. Even those who simply hated him for the fact he had stolen their sister, mother or wife for the Hollow, even those whose lives he had ruined because of some intentional or unintentional circumstance. Even those he had never met, who had no direct connection to him, and lived as far away from Beinost as was possible.

There was always those who detested, and wanted to see him weakened. And the easiest way to do that was to steal one or more of his few greatest assets: his people.

Six months ago it would have meant one of a few. Raevin, for instance, was his Elven captain of the guard, a man integral to his projects concerning military needs. One other such was the half giant Brer - a man with the loyalty of a faithful hound and of very few words. Ventura, Vitruvion's sister, would have been ideal, but she had her own powers and her own methods of evading captivity.

Yet, it was now, and now meant that Stare was included in that number of few people. Walking back from the business agent's store had been the easy part - signing the last few papers to confirm the ownership of the Grand Celestial Brewery over into the hands of Sir Vitruvion Elssmith. It was rather amusing to have the word 'celestial' in the title of the business, but that was part of the charm. When Stare had heard this particular mighty beer manufacturer could be persuaded for a sale, she had told Vitruvion of it. He had laughed, after all the vast majority of the world thought him to be half an angel, hence the 'celestial,' and it seemed all was bliss. A few trips there and back for Stare as his representative and it had come to this. The final signatures, the final glints of money. Stare had left, her hands shoved deep in her pockets, heading right out to the harbour of this unusual, small port town. Gulls shrieked overhead, old men smoking pipes half their size billowing enough mist to cause a change in climate. Seedy fighters with rusty knives paraded the streets, and a single robed woman held a parasol above her head. A salty breeze bashed in against the rocks, rickety jetty and the shore, causing the boats to creak and the waves to smash angrily on the shingly with a sound like breaking glass.

As the wind picked up it battered against her feathers. Grunting unamusedly Stare buried the bottom ahalf of her head into her scarf, so only the top portion of her beak and her beady eyes could be seen. Striding along she had focus for only one place, and that was the boat awaiting her in the harbour. With both the harsh wind lashed against her and the determination set she did not see the professional rogue stalking her. Such was it that her powerful eyes only worked on those she could see, and with a man who had been born from the shadows, who lived in the shadows, she had very little hope.

When she turned down a small alleyway, darker than the others, to take a shortcut to the harbour, the assailant attacked. He had a single second, he knew, before she might notice him, then she would look at him and that - he had been warned - would spell disaster. For this you see was the kenku noble bitch with the eyes, that every good bounty hunter had been searching for for the past three months. If she even glanced at you, it was said, your task would fail, all your plans would go to nothing. You had to be silent, and you had to be quick.

And you had to silence her as soon as you could.

Which was why the only thing Stare felt was a prick. A single sharp stab to the side of her neck. No sooner had she siezed, and noticed the pain, and what it could mean, she began to slip back into unconciousness, as the fast-acting sedative took effect. Quick and dextrous arms caught her, lowering her gently to the ground. As she opened her beak to let out a startled caw, a single, warm hand pressed to the side of her head and a sound was heard.

"Shhh," it said, "Shhh, everything will be fine."

----

She was startled awake by the sound of metal hinges grating. Sitting up in reaction she immediately tried to open her eyes - then found she could not see anything. There was something obscuring her vision - a darkness of some kind. Was it just night time? No, because even as she looked around there was no senes of heat coming into her vision, no even remotest of elements drifting in ... and she could usually see in anything. No, either this was actually a pure pitch black area, or the itchiness near her temples had something to do with it.

Snarling a rapid caw she let a voice echo around the room as she tried to move a hand to lift it in order to scratch that undesirable itch. It was somewhere, curled behind her for some reason, and it twitched at her alert response, moved a millimetre - then stopped. Utterly stopped and there was cold, hard circles of metal around them.

It was only then that Stare began to put the pieces back together and remember what precisely had happened.

And the hinges? There was apparently a metal door opening. And heavy footsteps coming inside. Thud, thud, thud.

"'Ere," said a voice she strangely recognised. "'Ave something to eat, crow," it laughed. Andthe sound of something was dumped.

And Stare snapped her beak savagely, as she remembered then the last few days. The awful, last few days, where she had been handcuffed hand and foot, just as she was now. Blindfolded, permanantly to stop her 'from doin' tha' freaky eye thing we 'eard abou'." One time, she had managed to pull off the blindfold, and the men - her captors - had learnt their lesson and now chained the blindfold around her head. She had left one of them apparently with an ugly skin necrosis that had not yet been healed. And another couple had large cut marks on their hands, faces. That led to her ankles being bound as well, but honestly - when you were stuck in a cage all day and couldn't actually see anthing, who cared?

And when you had realised that after these four days you could not make contact at all with your god on cognitive speed-carrier pigeon, was there actual promise in giving up?

She hissed at her new comer 'dinner' and snapped in the direction of the voice.

"I will eat your eyes with soup," she cursed him. "You and all the ones here."

"Not before we get our money first, bird-brain," the voice replied, cheeringly, and the door was once again slammed shut.

Leaving Stare with an unknown stragner, who she could not see and did not really want to talk to. She did still not know where she was, she still could not contact Vitruvion - her probable saving grace in this hellhole, and she still could not move.

Quite honestly, it could not get worse.