[h3][center][b]SIGIL CLOUDFURY[/b][/center][/h3]

	A man stalked through the guild's main keep. The way he moved, footfalls silent on the stony ground, the steel in his eyes, he exuded an icy air of purpose, and by very nature seemed to hold authority over even the earth itself. Polished plate gleamed beneath a black cloak, the depiction of a bird taking flight on its center. There was not a soul present whom did not know this man by his sheer presence, and all nodded their heads as he passed. He was Sigil Cloudfury, Guildmaster of the illustrious mercenary band, the White Dove. A band of dragon riders. A band of death.

	Sig was not old, for a Guildmaster, though older than most others present. But in a mercenary band, for one to live Sig's thirty-two years, one must be strong in arm, mind, and spirit. Most would have handed the guild off to someone else long before - Sig had enough coin in his personal coffers to live with grandeur well into old age. The Guildmaster, however, had little interest in grandeur, and even less in old age.

	As he made his way to the front gate, at the call of the hunter he had been expecting, he stopped only once. Cedric Pryde, First Sword of the guild and Sig's friend and right-hand man, stood vigilant near the keep's doors.

	"Clear the Dome," Sig said, clapping a hand on Cedric's shoulder. "Make sure we're not disturbed. I don't know how long this will take."

	Sig advanced, pushing open the heavy iron doors before him. The day greeted him, pale sunlight reflecting off distant sands. A haze filled the sky, a pretense to Solis' unwavering heat. A gathering of dragon hunters were arranged before him on the trodden path leading between the guild and the city. Between them was a massive cage, and between the thick bars Sig could see his new possession: a dragon, the hue of its scales dark, deep and rich like the night sky in Lunaris.

	[i]Beautiful,[/i] Sig thought. He would not regret his new partner. He would make sure of that.

	His own dragon previous, a beast known as Furas, was taken down in the guild's last campaign several months before. Sig's ribs still ached from time to time, when he thought of the lance that brought the two of them out of the sky. He did not dwell on the loss. Furas was a strong partner, but he was too broken. He had lost his spirit. [i]No matter,[/i] Sig thought. [i]He served his purpose. As will this one.[/i]

	The Guildmaster fingered the rope hanging from his belt. At it's end was a vicious two-pronged hook, dark metal shimmering in strange colors. The metal was celelyrium, the dragon-killer. It was his guarantee, but he would not use it if he did not need to.

	"Let her go," Sig said simply. "And go inside for your payment. I will handle the rest."

	The hunter gave him an appraising look. Sig had come out alone, as he often did. But there was no wariness in his voice, no caution. It was said as if it were a matter of fact. He [i]would[/i] handle the rest. This was a man who had done this many times before.

	"Very well," the hunter said. "As long as we get our pay." Methodically, the group released the cage surrounding the black dragon, metal bars clattering on the sandy ground. They packed the bars away in compartments in the main wagon, and began to release the dragon's bindings. Last to go was the mask. Casting one last questioning glance at the leader, they reluctantly pulled the pins in the jaw of the mask and fled into the guild hall. The heavy steel bonds slid off the dragon's face.

	Only Sig remained outside. He regarded the dragon, stern face never changing. She had a severe face, dangerous, eyes that showed fury.

	"Come with me," Sig commanded. "How hard this will be is entirely up to you. Show me loyalty, and you will never again feel a shackle." He laid a heavy hand on the rope on his belt.

[@Athoriel][@Ambra]