Blood on the Leaves

Gil Vessalius had become an increasingly busy man. Guild Master was more than just a title but a position in which he needed to hold, a position that required more work than what many would think. Especially, given the state of the guild in which he had become the master of. Just as legal guilds had piles of paperwork, illegal guilds had their fair share of papers to deal with as well. Though the supposedly dead guild Tartarus did not have the sort of paperwork that the legal guilds dealt with, most of which included bills, fines, and notices from the Magic Council. No, instead Tartarus had a wide array of documents, history that needed to be peered over, dusty alliances that needed to be renewed, and most importantly evidence that needed to be destroyed. The vision in which the blonde male had for himself and for the guild that had come into his control was hardly a small one, though Gil was never known for dreaming small. It just so happened that his aspirations would require a large amount of evidence to be destroyed, whether it be paper, or living evidence. He simply wanted to erase Tartarus' existence, the public and council believed it to be dead, and that's exactly what Gil wanted.

He had dedicated the last few weeks of his time since becoming guild master to the erasure of Tartarus. At first it had been paperwork but now it had turned into hunting down and killing mages who knew of Tartarus' existence, mages that knew that the dark guild was in fact not dead. There were of course exceptions to this hunt, allied to Savage Skull, Gil could not harm its members but in turn they were to keep quiet about Tartarus. The two guilds, much to his displeasure, needed each other's help. It was his on his apparent crusade that Gil had stopped at arguably one of his favorite places to stop, a bar. Wine, particularly expensive wine, was a pleasure that Gil would never deny himself. As such he had enjoyed a glass while in a local tavern, not in the least concerned that someone such as himself was enjoying a glass of wine in a town that housed a threatening legal guild. His audacity seemed to border temerity at the least.

At the least bars always proved to be entertaining, always a colorful array of people for him to watch and judge. Always a variety of men and women alike who would cast awe stricken glances his way, as Gil was considered a very handsome man. However, these colorful people at times could be quite the inconvenience for him. One of them, a young woman, happened to have made the mistake of ordering a drink and claiming that she would not be paying for it. Gil wouldn't have bat an eye at the sight, having seen countless other fools do the same, but she had made a grave mistake. The bartender and a few other employees had taken her out back, clearly to take some form of payment from her. Which in turn left the bar without a bartender, and Gil without someone to site upon him and his now empty wine glass...

With the languid movements of a cat Gil slipped out of his seat, empty glass in hand, as he stalked after his soon to be prey. They had gone out back to an alley that reeked, clearly she had not been the first person to be taken out back that night. The sight in which he saw was certainly not what he expected, the woman had taken down the men without breaking a sweat, and seemed to be enjoying what looked like cookies as she kicked an already unconscious man. He watched in silence for a moment, mulling the scene over before he threw the wine glass down to the earth. It cracked and sent countless shards along the ground, the crisp sound of breaking glass echoing down the alley. Standing to his full height, Gil was impressively tall enough so that he always looked down upon others when speaking to them. His Crimson glare was focused upon the woman who had dared to interrupt his almost pleasant night,

"That's my bartender. I expect that you'll be sure to pick him up and pay me for this great inconvenience that you have caused me."

His voice was a deep growl, not angry in tone but chastising like a parent to a child. He let his glare lay upon her for a moment longer before turning back to renter the bar, pausing just long enough to run a hand through his blonde mane. On the back of his neck lay the Crimson mark of his guild, showing brightly upon his alabaster skin. His hair then shifted back into place and the mark was hidden once before by a curtain of blonde locks.

The woman, who truly seemed more like a savage than she did a woman, had the audacity to question his authority. Audacity was something that Gil was known to have in excess but he certainly didn't appreciate it when others had the same quality. He paused in mid stride for a moment a silence having passed over them. It was as if he was goading her to dare ask that question again. The silence was short lived, much like this woman's life if she didn't learn to hold her tongue. Apparently, she had lost interest in him and instead went back to beating the already senseless men. She had single-handedly offended Gil Vessalius in more ways than one.

A flash of gold illuminated the alley before a screech echoed down the bricks. A writing mas of white scales was upon the bricks of the alley, before the scales moved and the figure stretched as it stood. Alabaster scales glinted in the light of the alley way, its crimson eyes might have rivaled even Gil's, and its jagged teeth put swords to shame. With another shriek it extended its wings making it appear larger than before, leather going taut over hollow bones. A wyvern was a strong and terrifying summon, it was far from his best but she hardly seemed deserving of his best.


His back was still turned to her, clearly trusting the wyvern between them to guard him. Clearly, he didn't believe her to be deserving of even his gaze, "Well, little savage. If you value your life as much as beating up those worthless men than I suggest you listen to me." His drawled, his voice a deep rumble in his chest, "I could care less if I know you. What is a little peasant, a tiny savage to a King?" Between the two of them it was obvious as to which one of them was the King.

"Good guess." Sarcasm dripped from the statement. Apparently he was dealing with not only a savage but an idiot as well. The wyvern that stood between them was clearly produced via magic, magic that came from him, the only other mage in the area. Her onslaught of laughable questions was irritating to say the least but he did manage a dark chuckle at her words. "Girl." He began, his voice sharp, demanding that she stop speaking for a moment, "Do I look like a measly Rune Knight to you?" He sounded almost offended, "As if a King like me would stoop down to the ranks of a lowly knight?" It was true, the possibility of even being mistaken for or being associated with Rune Knight trash was almost unbearable. "Such silly questions." The wyvern shifted between them, teeth still glinting in the light as it responded to its masters emotion, "As if I would reveal the name of my guild to a commoner such as yourself." He ran his hand through his blonde mane, always quick to claim himself as a guild master, but rarely would he say just what guild it was.

"I could ask the same silly questions of you." He quipped back, "But I'm too smart to ask what I could figure out on my own." He gave a shrug of his shoulders, not that she could see, "You clearly don't work for the Rune Knights. They're trash but they're trash that doesn't break the law, or get in fights outside of a bar." That much was true, "You're no Basilisk, you're hardly the secretive type." Basilisk Fang worked under the shadows much like how he was trying to get his own guild to be, but unlike Baslisk Fang, Tartarus was able to operate under the guise of it being dead, "I would assume you to be a part of Savage Skull. You certainly act like a savage." It seemed like he was about to make a wrong guess, as if he could be wrong about her allegiance, yet he quickly mended his words, "Unfortunately, I happen to be very familiar about who has sworn their allegiance to Savage Skull. And I know for a fact you are not one of them." He leaned against the door way, his wyvern shifting slightly so that his crimson gaze could bore into her, "Which means that you are nothing more than a guildless mage, a wandering mongrel that has irritated the wrong man. I could easily strike you down here and no one would so much as miss you."