Dax's body rattled with the metallic cart, each jolt a metallic shiver running up his spine, his frame jiggling with every gallop of the wheels over unseen stones.
Yet, strangely, he wasn't shackled. No, he was ensconced rather comfortably inside, perched upon a foam-padded bench with his back eased against another cushion, almost like a criminal being chauffeured rather than transported.
The only thorn in this velvet comfort was the voice, which was ceaselessly, rasping echo into his skull.
"You couldn't even fight your way out, asshole."
The hawk, of course. It never shut up long enough for him to concentrate.
He inhaled, ignoring the blabbing bird. He figured that the only thing that might hold answers was the runes that always displays his stats. Therefore focusing harder and ignoring the blabbing hawk he tapped into his mind's eye.
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[Name: Stevon Jew]
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"What the…?" he muttered under his breath.
