The Blade of the Craft Guild realized his mission would be much more difficult than he expected when less than twenty steps into the Wretched Quarter a man in a torn and dirty black robe confronted him. The Blade was covered in filth, had on a dirty and torn yellow tunic, and should have looked like any other wretched Craft Guild citizen returning from across the river. Yet the man made a beeline to him.
“Name your guild,” the man asked.
“I am a Custodian. I clean the floors in the Warehouse District.” The Blade couldn’t quite believe he was seeing a man in black. Maybe there was some roving gang that liked to pretend they were the heir of Pietro or something. He dropped his hand to the stiletto sheathed against his leg.
“Where do you live?”
The Blade nodded in some vague direction. “Over that aways.”
“Which street?”
The man in black was not backing down. The Blade couldn’t quite figure out what was going on, but he didn’t want to raise any alarms either. “Who wants to know?” The Blade hoped that moving to an aggressive approach might do the trick. The gang member was probably used to people cowering in front of him.
To the Blade’s shock, the man in black didn’t even ask another question. He reached out and grabbed the Blade by the arm. “You’re coming with me.” The man’s grip was like iron, and the Blade was yanked nearly off his feet.
Looking around, he was surrounded by quite a few people, but not enough to stop his escape, which was good as he had very few options. He
She slowed her pace and watched as the larger man pushed the blade into the other man who dropped to the ground. She stopped running and became transfixed with the unfolding drama in front of her.
knew that he was up against a man like non other. He franticly tried to escape and run
“With the knife I had, I opened his chest to that place…. I inserted the knife point, and with great difficulty, at last i pulled it out”
"Where is he?!" The rough and gruff voice of one of the guards make Jimin smirk, twisting the gun lightly in his hands. As the footsteps neared closer to the hallway of the office, Jimin turned his body and shot the man in the chest, resulting in a garbled scream. With the thud of his body, Jimin jumped out of his hiding spot, sprinting down the long and empty hallway. It was nearly twelve at night, so luckily everyone was out by
worries about what he is going to do. "Is this a dagger which I see
He looked over to his right and saw a group of prisoners screaming at him, begging him to run towards them to complete the plan. Running to them meant freedom, but before he could move a muscle, he heard someone in the distance screaming his name. Closing his eyes and covering his ears would’ve been a good fantasy, but confronting
He swished the sword through the air and said, “This is a most interesting weapon, it is thin and light, yet seems to be unbreakable. I think I'll slice you to pieces with it Angelica, and then I'll keep your head as a souvenir. These other two, I will find other uses for.”
I held out my hand and one of my men wisely placed a charging weapon in it. I calmly entered the meeting room, walked up to the man with a bandaged hand with a smile on his face, place the barrow of the weapon to his head, and pulled the trigger.
"Let's start with your past shall we? About the time when you're "alive," when you haven't go on a trek to slaughter all the demon hunters." The inquisitor asked. I was silenced, I tried to avoid him, but it didn't turn out well. He glanced at me and said nothing, as if he was use to downworlders like me. He sighed and shake his head, pulling out something that looks like an angel blade, but it has a gun's trigger on the two side. Pulling the trigger on both side, a bright light came out from top and point it towards me. Then I remembered what it is, it's the blade of justice, it is said that it will give a unique effect to downworlders who's against the person who is holding the blade. I was vulnerable, but it didn't intimidate me a bit. Even though the light was bright, I didn't even blink. Maybe it's because I have some crazy demonic vampire powers, but I was stronger than any ordinary vampire.
He pulled out a dagger and swung it at Orion, nicking his cheek. The whole pub went silent for a few seconds. Orion grabbed the man’s arm and twisted it. The man let out a scream of agony as Orion threw him across the room. The atmosphere was filled with fear now.
Mace blinked in surprise. Just stood there, blinking. Gasparro, mind working oddly, noted that the edges of the stranger's sword were blunt. He wondered how the sword cut, and then he had his answer in bloody motion. The sword cut not because its sharpness, but because of its sheer weight, which gave it a momentum that could rip through anything.
Parcival held the sword flat side out above Jason's head. "Then I guess you don't care about this man, do you?" His sword swung in an arc.
As a artisan guild is new to Wytheville, many do not understand how the commission base works with in a guild. The commission percent is understood and agreed upon as a standard through the art industry. There are some guilds that have a higher commission rate. Artist that are new, usually ask how this commission works and is explained to all that ask or upon being accepted into the guild, as it is not a typical commission. We are very proud of our standard of high quality and talent that we will be part of guild. I know that there are artisans that open their own store to sell their wares but many artist do not have the time or the funding to sell just there beautiful talent. As a guild, we can bring many great talents together to up lift
The novel portrayed the Weavers Guild as a group of regulators put in place to provide credit where it should be, to make sure tapestries met a certain standard, and to set rules about labor (working days and who is allowed to weave). As I mentioned earlier, allowing Christine to weave was against the Guild’s rules. If she was caught, Georges would be fined or even shut down. At one point in the novel, a fellow weaver stopped by Georges’ house to look at the tapestries but was really spying in hopes of seeing a rule being broken so he could go to the Guild and have one less weaver to compete with. Before that, Leon recognized a portion of color-blending Georges used that was originally produced by another weaver. Georges would have been fined
A man paces within the room, his black leather boots clattering against the creaking wood over and over again. He was deeply tan, his skin an olive hue, and his head was topped with a messy mop of grey hair. His face was chiseled and angular, but not untouched by the wrinkles of age. His chin had rough stubble running as a five-o 'clock shadow. Across his left eye ran an old scar, coming from the top left and ending at the start of his nose. His other eye was a deep blue, intently looking towards the worn paint on the floor boards. He was adorned in a light leather vest, metal studs patterned across it to accommodate chainmail, if the need arose for it, and to his side was a thin sword, the hilt finely crafted with a intricate, geometric design stretching across the scratched and scuffed cage. He stands tall, easily clearing six feet, his upper body broad and well kept. He stops dead as he hears the old door creak, turning his one good eye to the new visitors with a deathly glare. "Who are you?"