« He was a tall man, tall as Conan, though of leaner build. Framed in his steel morion his face was dark, saturnine and hawk-like, wherefore men called him the Hawk. His armor and garments were rich and ornate, after the fashion of a Zingaran grandee. His hand was never far from his sword-hilt.
There was little favor in the gaze he bent on Conan. Zaporavo toyed with his sword-hilt and scowled at his uninvited guest. Conan gave no hint of what his own thoughts might be.
“You’ll work for your keep,” snarled the Hawk. “Get off the poop. And remember, the only law here is my will.” »
Robert E. Howard - The Pool of the Black One