The Assassins Gambit: She who has the Amethyst Eyes

[thatcuriousone]

Snow,
If I may say so, you have me hooked, line and sinker on this story.
Fantasy is my favorite type of genre, and this definitely fits the bill. Your interesting word play and different ways of describing things has me definitely intrigued to what's coming up next.

[snowleopard3200]

Baby Bella - Glad you like the story so far, as for Associate, please be patient as the gambit unfolds.

TCO - Thanks and I hope the rest of the story is of equal interest and excitement.

[snowleopard3200]

Snowleopard bounce.

[snowleopard3200]

Normally a walk among his beds of flowers cheers the darkest, foulest, humorless of moods he could achieve. This day though, is not one of them; his great rose gardens, the greatest of his treasures accumulated over the last ten years now have become a bane.

Three days ago, three of the flowers were carefully cut and vanished.

Two of these flowers appeared this morning, one in the house of Jesmine’s family; the others next to the now very dead Finneous and Kimberly.

An incredibly fine morning he was spending with a Sister in Blue crumbled into ashes with the messenger who arrived unheralded, accompanied by a heavy guard from the guild hall.

His message was simple: The Grandfather of Assassins wants to see him.

He felt the cold, gripping hands of death clench about his throat and heart; the sheer terror threatening of the pending session alone all but stopping his heart.

Grandfather’s gentle interrogation – he could simply have tortured him to death on a whim – centered on the notes supposedly in his own elegant and flowing script, so close of a forgery that even the guilds best experts are hard pressed to tell the difference.

Finally he was allowed to go, still intact in mind and body; most such ‘interrogations’ wind up with the victim being boiled in oil if they are lucky.

Yet the real message he gave to Gordon is this: Grandfather is watching for a coup from within, or to see if a certain Master will fall (i.e. Gordon) and a new one promoted in his place.

This mystery is driving him to the brink of madness; the reference again of ten years of silence, only two others still alive know what happened all those years ago with the contract on the banker and his family.

So either one of them has slipped the word out to set him up for a fall…or someone else has figured the affair out and is setting him up for a fall…

The ease that the roses disappeared makes one matter clear though; someone has an agent on the inside, and needs to be found out and ‘interrogated.’ He does not tolerate those who sell him out…not at all.

But who could it be?

Though he never can fully trust anyone about him, a few have again and again proven their loyalty and utter reliability over the years…Yes, he will have them watched from a distance; common thugs and footpad agents of the guild, if they get killed by their own incompetence, there will be no major loss.

Pleased with this plan another thought comes to him; here he is in the open, well within range of a marksman with a crossbow…

…making him an easy target, perfectly accommodating any targeting him right now from a tree or roof top…

He retreats back into the manor, swiftly closing and barring the massive iron doors. The watch is doubled and the place is to be searched from top to bottom twice over. Pure defensive measures if his hunch of a strike at him is right.

Of course, if a coup attempt happens as Grandfather expects, he will rush to defend the leader of the guild. If the opportunity arises, then he will dispose of Grandfather. His mood brightens at those thoughts; he as the new Grandfather of Assassins, ruling the town and the guild plus all of his own lands…why not, this bears some discussion with his associates – Gerald and Cinnius.

Even with the thoughts now calculating plans and contingencies for the takeover of the guild or elimination of a rival one fact remains clear...

His hand never loosens its grip on the razor sharp knife hanging from his belt.

[SW1]

A short chapter, you keep me waiting and wanting more. I guess that I have too much time to keep myself occupied. But, my medical training prevents my from guessing as I wait for the answers to start to appear.
SW

[snowleopard3200]

Associate moved as carefully and quietly as he could, not daring to make a noise at all. Shadow to shadow, one small step at a time he moves, quieter than a mouse on the prowl. For several days he has built up the nerve to come closer and closer; with certain precautions being taken this time…

-clunk.

Quickly he grabs the cloth bound, cast iron plate draped across his manhood to quiet up even this little bit of noise. His quarry this evening is all too likely to make sure he is gelded indeed…and the poison on her blades are another complication as well to that kind of embarrassment.

Looking around the final corner into the small stone grotto below the safe house they have established; he look upon She with the amethyst eyes showering beneath a soft, steady, misting cascade of steaming water. This may be one of the few luxuries she ever has allowed herself…

Associate of course, just smiles, as he sees the show is about to begin…

She bent her head downward to take in the frontal portion of her exposed body, those smallish breasts glistening with small beads of water upon them. Both hands came together in front of her, tip to tip, her eyes taking in the dancing lights that gleamed like a million millions of diamonds before a flame, playfully moving along her smooth skin before they disappear into the pool about her feet, merging with the rest for eternity.

Associate looked with wonder as she playfully gathered a handful of the water after she cupped her hands as one, and repeatedly tossed it into the air; her silent laugh adding to the wonderment of her gleaming eyes when the droplets come back down to crash on her. She moves arms, legs, shoulders and head to catch or dodge parts of it; shifting from foot to foot in many different poses.

Then her gaze shifts to her breasts once again.

One fingertip began to explore, resting at first upon the very base of her ribs, to flow upward in a narrow, focused, undulating trail that clearly sent a cornucopia of feelings surging into all portions of her mind.

And what a wonderment she did experience…

My world expanded in an instant, as it always does, in new and wonderful explorations of the universe of feelings and sensations:

Sharp and sweet, tart and tangy, dull and dense; words without form for feelings that cannot be described save as a harmony like a series of streams forging into a mighty river as all join together...

My eyes closed as I felt the heat in my body beginning to shift and build, a sweltering pulsation that flowed from the souls of my feet to the tips of my fingers, caressing hips and shoulders, knees and elbows as the soft, sensuous touch of a graceful lover who only desires to pleasure his lady to no end.

I smelled with each breath the heavenly profusion of scents – the mineral rich water, the ancient age of the rocks around me along with the musky, earth rich scent of men and women who have lived here over the vast age the house above has existed.

The wonderful, heady mixture of the bathing soaps I love to use mix in with all of these, bringing to mind an ancient forest never before visited by human beings; of mountain meadows with flowers fully in bloom and the sweet, gentle breeze flowing across them.

The fingertip became a flattened palm, teasing along the edge of my breast, slowly tracing the edge while swirling in small, gentle circles.

One circuit became two, then four, and moved to the other breast to do the same. Twice more this looping symbol of infinity proceeded; while my hand caressed and massaged more and more area of my breasts.

My other hand flowed down my body unto the most personal spot each woman alone understands and has by a gift of nature; they followed my minds command to begin exploring and probing, as I sought out the one spot to send me away into heavenly bliss for a short time.

I heard and felt my breath quickening, my head making a small circle as electrical charges of pure bliss tingled their way up my body; each one in turn unleashed a pleasant surge of energy, invigorating and easing, the raw potential of life made reality.

Stroke by gentle stroke the infinite pattern flowed, kneading and shaping my breasts until they crossed the erect nipples; that first gracing contact sent a coursing pulse of passion along all the paths of my body, surging and rebounding until it returned a hundred fold in intensity that almost became overwhelming.

My back arched as shoulders thrust back with my head; my free hand quickly clenched the vanities marble edge as both of my legs all but gave out beneath me. Muscles twitched and squirmed, nerves firing in delight and demanding they be touched to give me even more pleasure than I had experienced with just that one massive surge of wonderment.

Unto its journey my hand continued, seeking out with almost desperate haste the other nipple; its trail a clear path illuminated by fires of bliss as it moved along my skin. Pulse after beating pulse surged in this journey to flow outward as the ripples on a pond, yet with the force of a cascade among a mighty river.

I commanded my body to hold still, to balance and move with the flowing surge that will shortly come; to use the energy and move with it instead of in opposition to it. When it came, the barest brush of flesh on that nipple; combined with the pleasures flowing from my womanhood; brilliant lightning ripped up and down my body, flexing and loosening muscles and nerves in wonderful manners as I shook and moved; the wave moving downward as I sought to direct the returning pulse…

And then it hit; the most intimate and pleasurable of sensations that sent me into a long, jarring climax that lasted over five minutes; my skin shining brilliant in a shimmering cloud of soft steam rising from my body.

I felt more alive than ever before.

-BOOM!

I just shook my head as Associate went diving into the grottos main pool, britches smoking beneath the cast iron plate he is wearing over his groin. He apparently forgot that one of the explosive compounds he carried at the ready would go off at the least wrong motion…why would he keep it down there though?

She just rolled her eyes to the heavens…

Some things just never change in the world between men and women...

Of course thats most of the fun as well...

[thatcuriousone]

The Associate seems to have constant issues when he's daydreaming doesn't he? Nothing ever seems to go his way.

[SW1]

Originally Posted by thatcuriousone

The Associate seems to have constant issues when he's daydreaming doesn't he? Nothing ever seems to go his way.

Poor fellow.
SW

[ELaken-Palmer]

Good scene but it lapsed into a first-person narrative in the middle and you didn't quite seem to set that up.

[snowleopard3200]

TCO - Associate does have his small problems; at the least he remembered about her skill with throwing knives and took some precautions; he just forgot about the other stuff.

SW1 - patience, that is all I can say at this time.

ELP - I goofed major time on that portion; glad you caught it. I'll have to go back and edit it when I put the entire story on the main sight.

As they say "Snowleopard goof..."

[BabyBella]

I agree about the last chapter, but I'm still looking forward to more.

[snowleopard3200]

Originally Posted by BabyBella

I agree about the last chapter, but I'm still looking forward to more.

Thanks BB, I goofed on the last portion; lesson learned. Are there any other errors I have missed? Or ideas to improve on the writing style I have?

All comments are appreciated.

[snowleopard3200]

It has been a busy two weeks since the deaths of Master Finneous and Constable Kimberly; the subsequent sets of ‘interviews’ sanctioned by the guild are nothing more than a campaign of terror, intimidation and coercion to remind all of Providence who rules the town. Of course, a few of the more ambitious members of the guild also took the occasion to encourage their own promotion from within the guild…

A knife in a superiors back, appropriately poisoned, does help out with this promotion procedure…until such a time your underling gains your new position by ratting you out to the Grandfather, and then you wonder why you are about to be executed in a pit of rabid rats…

For she whose eyes are alight with amethyst fires, the weeks have been even longer, two key items she needs to have crafted by local sources seem to never get finished. Day by day she waits and hopes for the message that they are ready to arrive. Day by day the message never comes, and her patience begins to fray at the edges…

Two long weeks where with each passing day the agents under Master Cinnius have harmed more and more innocent people; the continuing and growing campaign of terror, sanctioned ultimately by the Grandfather of Assassins. One more crime for them to pay for…

Then the message arrives: “The gift is ready.”

Thus she has come to stand in the back room of a toymaker this night…

With the most gentle, tender of care, each of the egg-sized spheres is examined for the smallest of flaws; and none are to be found. Her feral grin is matched by that of the toymaker standing next to her; both of hers and the one remaining of his gleaming with contemplation of the coming fall of the second king…

“Fire with fire, which is what you instructed; just do not drop any of them, the results of course would be fairly impressive and quite final. Those idiots of the guild never figured I know the arts of alchemy as well as being a toymaker. Now through you I can have my revenge upon them after so many long years…” he shook his head in long sustained sadness.

Twelve years ago, for making a small mistake in one of his ‘requested’ toys taken at sword point by a guild member, they came and slaughtered his wife and eight children before his eyes. Then forever scarred him as a reminder – burning off the left side of his face and removing one eye by a rat gnawing it away; he has never forgotten the pain, nor the terrible resolve for revenge to be exacted on the tormentor of his – Cinnius – if the opportunity arrived.

When it did with her, he jumped at it immediately; she has promised much more as well…

She hands him a folded letter containing the initial contact information for those who see him to safety; ones who specialize in smuggling people to freedom and who are part of her own network. While he looks at the information she disappears out the back door and into the safety of the shadows. No one, not even a cat laying down ten inches from the door, senses her passage.

Soon enough one more King shall be swept off the board…

[snowleopard3200]

The following two weeks sees utter chaos sweep the street agents of the Guild. The ordinary gossip heard in shops and among workers has suddenly been replaced with word of a brewing power struggle within the guild leadership, of a rival guild from another city, or an all out street war. Each one seems to be wilder and more unbelievable than the last and always third, fourth or even fifth hand from the one who first heard it….untraceable…

Only one stream of the rumors is constant – three players, Masters Cinnius, Gerald and Gordon.

The more that the Grandfather hears of these rumors, the more he wonders if there is a coup being prepared by these three; or one of them who is also trying to dispose of the others…yes indeed…something is brewing and it means major trouble…but for whom…

He gives orders for his own agents to find the sources of these rumors, or face the most hideous death that they could imagine…

=======

Her amethyst eyes sparkle in the soft light of the moon coming into the room from the window. Once again her own street agents have excelled beyond all reasonable expectations; pressure and yet more pressure is being put on the guilds agents as they hunt for the truth…or what they perceive as the truth behind the rumors…

Paranoia can be so handy to make life miserable for assassins…

The softest of footfalls draws her attention to the doorway where her Associate enters.

He bows politely and announces he has some news from others he is in contact with…ones that will make the end of this hunt truly worthwhile if they agree to join…

“My lady,” he said, “I have come from the leaders of those who are in waiting, before they will commit fully to our plan they want ‘dramatic proof of the guild being vulnerable.’ It must leave no doubt in the matter. I told them that such a matter is already being prepared; just to let them know who is in control of this hunt. These assassins have allowed the anger to build against them for so long, by so much fear that they have become very arrogant…yet I believe the demonstration will bring those who wait into our fold.”

She nods to him, showing agreement with his reading of the matter.

************************

Near the new ale-house which is a front for the assassins’ guild’s operations, the main tap room is flowing with customers coming and going. The back rooms this night also are active as members and agents move in and out with clockwork precision. Most bring collections from loans, blackmail, extortion and other cuts from businesses for ‘insurance’ reasons. 'Insurance' as in - you stay alive to see the next dawn...

Some of the deliveries though are for payment of contracts taken out on business rivals…one being sent to Master Cinnius.

This gift for Cinnius is an exquisitely carved wooden box; around the edges are brilliant, almost living works of half-bloomed roses, and the relief of Master Gordon’s manor house. It is the work of many master craftsmen and worth a fortune in and of itself.

Yet the guild takes few chances; as a special band of thieves who are trained in the ways of trap crafting and of disarming them checks it over in exacting detail – their lives depend on it as if they fail…swift, brutal death.

To the best they can determine, there is nothing amiss; only a faint layer of dust upon the wrapping cloth and the wooden box itself. Obviously some apprentice carver failed to dust it off prior to shipping it here…still as per the standing orders of Grandfather the box is opened, to ensure no unpleasant surprises await within.

No disruption is to come to this operation, none at all, and they know their lives are forfeit if anything does go wrong.

Inside they find a master set of billiard balls, the favored game of Master Cinnius, plus a letter written in the flowing script of Master Gordon…

My associate Cinnius – the letter opens – please accept this as my gift for ten years of quiet work. Soon we shall reap the harvest of our efforts; may you enjoy the many games to be played with this billiards set – Gordon.

Many people examine the items, passing them around to see if any are trapped. Nearby the guards standing watch keep their weapons at the ready; prepared to instantly step in if danger threatens, of course if one of the examiners just up and dies then they will hold their ground to report later directly to Grandfather of the events.

Ragner, the current agent in charge of the operations smiles as his men engage in some fun; tossing the billiard balls back and forth, juggling them and raising small clouds of the dust that came from inside the box. He tells the guards to join in the fun as well – being in the personal pay of Grandfather has its advantages after all, and if something does go wrong – they can take the fall.

However at the moment, considering the letter from Master Gordon, he wonders if much more is afoot at the time. Plots within plots, deception within deception, trust no one…

Still…

He has been instructed to play his role of working for Master Gordon, yet that letter…

The letter that has information that Grandfather has offered payment for…a payment he finds all too tempting to pass up.

“Hmm, maybe Gordon is passing the operation over to Cinnius after all? Some better offer coming in turn to the boss?” he speculates aloud.

Turning to his own agent Jambis, he hands the letter to him with instructions that this is to get back to the guild, and directly to the Grandfather. Many see him hand a small token, a medallion that bears the personal marks of the Grandfather to Jambis – this is a pass for emergencies or critical messages only.

Right now Ragner thinks this qualifies as BOTH; critical information the Grandfather may need, to avoid a coup attempt staged to unseat him.

Other agents whom directly answer to the Grandfather hear Ragner mutter “…this time Gordon has gone too far…a game and a coup…or a move to set up Cinnius, or another setting up Gordon…”

As they speed off one by one, their information reaches the head of the guild before the mysterious letter does.

Ragner watches Jambis of the Constables gather his squad about himself, and then put the letter into an inner vest pocket, unopened and unread. Both of them slap the dust off their hands that was upon the letter.

Ragner considers for a moment that the box must not be of such superior crafting as he first assumed; given the sheer amount of dust covering it, as if it has been on a shelf for untold ages.

He only holds onto that train of thought for a few moments; before turning to more important matters, of how he is going to spend his reward and use his success here to advance within the guild.

Out of the corner of his eye Ragner catches a series of distinct movements, the flashing and glistening of color that tells him of a special kind of danger now approaching his area. He focuses his entire attention upon the closing threat, appearing as relaxed and casual as he can while watching, listening, and waiting for the least bit of information that can give him an edge in the impending encounter…

Three figures approach, their flowing and bustled gowns, double laced vests with frilled edging; and gloves that flow up to their elbows match the snowy down of hats and ribbons binding their raven black hair; their eyes of sapphire blue would confirm their allegiance if the same coloration of their clothing and shading parasols did not…

THREE Sisters of the Blue in one gathering!

Unheard of by almost anyone; as the services of one alone would break Ragner for the next ten lifetimes!

Then he sees the bodyguards of the gentleman the sisters are entertaining flanking him, fore, aft and to the sides; thus changing the slight envy Ragner was feeling into deferential terror…

Master Gerald walks on past, not bothering to pay anyone any attention other than the three ladies.

Such luxuries Ragner plans to have as his own and all too soon; with the reward promised by Grandfather he can have any number of the Sisters of the Blue with him at any time he wishes…

There is much he has to plan, and carefully…

Plans within plans, a harvest ready to be reaped…

It’s just that the harvest will not be as he expected.

For soon, the absolute silence of the grave fills the area…

[ELaken-Palmer]

Ashes to ashes and dust to dust? I don't think that they should have played with their balls. Something is about to happen.

[snowleopard3200]

Originally Posted by ELaken-Palmer

Ashes to ashes and dust to dust? I don't think that they should have played with their balls. Something is about to happen.

ELP - Ashes to ashes and dust to dust...consider how the Master Finneous and Kimberly met their ending.

As to the quip "played with their balls" I have to admit I did not quite think of someone seeing it that way; thanks for mention of it, love it!

For the third part - something about to happen? Oh yeah.

[BabyBella]

Another very good chapter, Snow. This is building and building. Definitely your best and most ambitious work

[thatcuriousone]

That dust seems quite deadly.
I have a feeling that dust is going to be spread quite far and wide soon.
However, I was expecting the spheres to be eggs, not pool balls. Which I find particularly interesting.

[snowleopard3200]

BB - thank you.

TCO - pool balls indeed, all I can ask is be patient and see if you can figure out what is to come. As for the dust itself, we shall see but I can comment on this much. The manner of it being used in other parts of the story actually happened in ancient Japan. I liked the means in the true story I incorporated the idea into this one.

The gambit continues...

[snowleopard3200]

Atop a nearby roof a line of fierce gargoyles watch with their eternal gaze upon the scene below; nearby they are shaded from the heat of the day by a pair of mighty oak trees over a hundred feet in height, plus a chimney long bricked up, that daily casts its shadow across them as well. For as long as anyone in Providence recalls these statues have maintained their silent vigil, the unmoving guardians and recorders of the towns history.

One other watches the backside of the ale-house, the agents playing their games and Ragner pacing along; and chuckles her eternally silent chuckle as the game stops with all too suddenly for the players. The idiocy of these Western assassins and their dingbat agents never ceases to amuse and surprise her.

Keeping a careful count, knowing her window of opportunity is short, she scans the area again and again with her eyes of amethyst fire. At the counts predetermined end, she makes sure her harness bag is snug about one shoulder and quickly leaps to one tree, descending with all due haste and a last leap from a low branch to the door at the back of the ale-house.

She ignores the now eternally silent guards, thieves, agents and assassins of the operations here; as they are no longer a threat in any form…so long as she does not touch them with her bared skin. Silent as death she slips into the back room, bypassing a ransom of gems, coins, jewels and jewelry fit for a hundred kings. Wealth beyond most people’s imagination lays open to her fingertips…and means nothing for her…

The game she is hunting is of much, much more personal value…

She halts inches away from the table upon which the trapped box rests. Before she gets close to the box there are precautions to be taken: the donning leather gloves; binding a thick cloth mask across her mouth and nose; and then taking a large rag in hand, she soaks it thoroughly with a bottle of prepared oil.

She takes no chances; as the risks of the trap still linger until dealt with…and are all too deadly…

With swift, precise moves, continuing a second count for the remainder of the window still open, she rubs down every surface, inside and out, of the wooden surfaces. Collecting each billiard ball, they in turn are wiped and returned to the box.

Once done, she exchanges the booby trapped box with the real gift for Master Cinnius…one that will deliver a very warm reception to him…she will take nothing else; or her efforts may come to nothing…

She pulls out a bag from her harness bag, places the box into it and then, with the utmost care, soaks her gloves with the prepared oil until she is sure they are free of the dust that so annoyed Ragner until his ending…then the gloves and rag join the trapped box in the bag.

For a moment, looking down at the carnage her and Associates efforts have wrought, she wonders what kind of looks will be on the face of Master Gordon when he hears of the operations uttermost failure. Of course in the case of Master Cinnius…she will know when he has received his gift in a special manner indeed…

“Fire with Fire,” is what the alchemist declared back when she picked up the little surprise for Cinnius. Oh how true that shall become, with an extra twist to it.

One rule the assassins forget when they come into positions of authority and power: Never become predictable in any fashion; for predictability makes one vulnerable, and soon enough all too dead…

Just like all the idiots on Ragner’s watch.

Nearing the end of her count she hastens on down the street, joining the gathering crowds who are drawn to the hue and cries for aid by a patrol of the Constables. Whispers start as to what or who could have brought him down with such speed, as he is still young and in near perfect health.

Yet it looks like his heart has just up and stopped.

Soon enough the hue and cry is sounded from the back of the ale-house; the massacre having been discovered by the next shift of guild agents arriving. In horror some flee the scene, screaming for their very lives, while the rest start demanding answers of those living nearby or passing on the street. Despite their best and most violent means of demanding the answers, no one has seen anything…

Save for those who are now dead…which will complicate their asking the three score and five corpses lying around the back of the ale-house any questions. Even an examination of the corpses themselves reveals little save that they, just like Jambis, appear to have died of heart stop…and then five of the examiners of the bodies themselves pass into the next world within the quarter hour…plus those who have dared to move the bodies for burial details…

By the end of “The Curse” as it comes to be known, over five score and seven guild agents and assassins lay dead. In one move, the guild has been dealt a devastating blow; one that an agent who is sent to report to the guild leadership sums up so well…

“Oh man, Grandfather is not going to be very happy over this disaster. I’ll be fortunate if he does not boil me in oil for delivering this news,” he told his buddies as he moved to depart about his errand.

He was stopped though, one of Grandfathers agents handing him a package that contained a letter found upon the body of Jambis – meant to be delivered for the Grandfathers eyes only. During his all too swift travel to the guild halls, and to the door of Grandfathers throne room, he kept figuring the many ways a man could be boiled in oil…and cringed with each one, expecting that to be his fate.

Grandfather’s aid received the package, opened it and read the letter aloud to all present. Just after he finishes, his eyes glaze over and he falls backwards, dead as anything as the last traces of dust dissipate off the vellum page.

The messenger knew in the instant Grandfather’s stern gaze fell across his own that doom was now upon him. He was wrong about being boiled in oil; instead his ending came as he was lowered inch by inch into molten bronze, and a death mask of his entire body created, a unique statue soon added to those of Grandfathers innermost sanctum.

For the rest of the day and into the night, Grandfather brooded, wondering how to turn this disaster to his advantage and continued survival.

[snowleopard3200]

In the shelter of a safe house they have established, one to be abandoned for good once their disguises and the trapped box are disposed of in the fireplace, Associate bows his head in acknowledgement of her success. As she changes from one outfit to another, he cannot keep from watching, seeing her bared form in the light is a sight to behold. Well he can always dream…right now business calls…not to mention the memory of the knife just missing him down there by a bit…

As subtly and quietly as he can, Associate makes sure the cast iron plate over his manhood is still in place; no sense taking any chances...

“I assumed the ‘heart stop’ poison worked as planned?” he inquired.

She quickly conveys the carnage wrought using the silent sign language.

The image he derives brings out a series of chuckles that flow into a torrent of laughter; one simple trap has wrought such carnage on the operations of the assassin’s guild. The exquisite demise of the patrol leader Jambis is extra frosting on the cake…he just regrets that he did not deliver the death blow…

Yet the rest of his patrol…hmmm…

“My lady,” he carefully and respectfully speaks to her, “what of the rest of his patrol? There is still the small matter of my pets having certain…needs...shall we say…to be taken care of…”

Her expression turns purely feral, and a quick nod follows. With that extra bit of business concluded he heads on out to the street, reviewing the next portion of the plan.

Tonight the rumors of the streets will turn to silence; no more rumors of the three Masters will be heard, thus many will assume the rumors are true, building fear and paranoia higher and higher within the guild…

As if the trap in the ale-house could not inspire more fear…such a simple, elegant trap…

“Heart stop,” he says softly, then gives a subtle chuckle.

Heart Stop is one of the most insidious of poisons from the Far East that few of the amateurs here in the West would know or even dream, to exist. Indeed, his lady has learned her lessons well…

When first prepared it takes twenty four hours to dry, it is safe to handle on bare skin or even inhaled. Yet for the window of seven hours after that, if breathed into the nose, as per the now late Finneous and Kimberly, it is absolutely deadly inside of four seconds.

It can be prepared as a fine, dust like powder that upon the contact with bare human skin is quickly absorbed, yet kills only minutes later; stooping their hearts cold. What makes it so subtle and insidious of a trap is the fact that those who contacted it, can pass the poison dust as well through a handshake, slap on the back, an object being passed around, so that it can kill a second, third and sometimes a fourth time.

Thus the resulting slaughter at the ale-house operations…and if the letter reached the Grandfathers innermost sanctum, many a death there as well…hopefully.

He has to remember that little trick; it may come in handy again some day…Just like the surprise for Master Cinnius that she has arranged…

Just like the fate that is coming for the patrol of Jambis; he intends to savor each and every one of their screams and pleas for mercy. Hopefully though in the end, unlikely as it seems, some of them will die with dignity and just accept their fate…his pets will be hungry enough…

As he heads down the street, he weaves and dodges among the many folks going about their usual day to day bit of business and work. His contacts on the street provide the location of the patrol with efficient, elegant energy in mere minutes…thus telling him just where to go about his business…

Until the moment someone staggers by, forcibly bumping him and others aside as the guards of Master Gerald of the guild. They scowl and threaten with glances, pose and words; the inelegant language of common and brainless thugs who would have no chance against him.

Associate bows politely and with complete deference to Master Gerald; who, to his absolute amazement stops and talks with him for a few minutes. In the guise of a foreign merchant, selling rare games of chance and that of billiards, he speaks of the most recent order he delivered to Master Gordon – a well crafted wooden box of billiards for a present to one of his friends.

Master Gerald speaks of that game being the favored one of Master Cinnius; and confirmed by Associate in his claim of being told thus by Master Gordon as well.

After they are done, one of the Sisters of the Blue gently places her hand on his shoulder, reminding him that there are far more important matters waiting his attention (three of them precisely), Gerald casually dismisses Associate.

Associate continues on his assumed business, stopping to talk with a series of store owners and vendors in the open market; followed of course for some time by one of Master Gerald’s guards – just to make sure no kind of funny business is going on.

Associate finds it quite amusing that he managed to walk passed the man three times and relieve him ever so subtly of his change purse, dagger and a deck of playing cards – not to mention the stupid feather in the mans hat.

Then again, considering with the contemptible ease he did the same with Master Gerald’s coin purse it should be no surprise. Feeling the weight of coins and jewelry within each one, the Associate slips them into an inner vest pocket and heads on his way. Some days he cannot help but smile at the sheer incompetency that these so-called “Masters of Death.”

Even the worst of his fellow students and family of the Far East are equal or better than them.

Now then to the matter at hand, he will deal shortly with the rest of Jambis patrol; and show the guild idiots what a true master of death can inflict…he just needs to get his hands on some change purses of Master Gordon’s agents…

Then his fun will truly begin…

[ELaken-Palmer]

It will be fun when the fun truly begins. Very interesting couple of chapters. I had missed the previous one but read it now. I had the feeling that powder was lethal. I thought it was a deadly mix of Comet and Love My Carpet but it was far more effective and far less odious. Keep the gambits coming to us! You KNOW we love this story.

[snowleopard3200]

ELP - true, the dust was deadly; the idea for the dust to be used is one from the history of Japan if my information is to be trusted. I thought the combination of what and how it was used to be so intriguing, it fit right into the story line.

Besides, as you said in one post earlier: "...they should not have been playing with their balls." Now there are quite a few dead agents of the assassins guild and a new bronze statue in the Grandfathers throne room.

And people wonder at times why bringing their boss bad news is not always a good thing?

I am glad you and others are loving the gambit as its tapestry is wove for all to see; Associates fun will begin soon enough, yet what do you see coming down the line in the gambit?

The clues are there, and here is another...

Assassins always have two companions: fear, in all of its ugly faces; and death, the one who waits for them in the end.

One thing I will admit, this story when I first wrote it was a lot shorter, and just GREW and GREW with each rewrite.

Hopefully by the end it will have been worth it to all who have read it.

[BabyBella]

I can’t wait for more, as the intrigue grows with each chapter. Your writing, as always, is a delight. Keep up the good work, Snow.

[snowleopard3200]

As Masters Cinnius and Gerald head to exit the network of warehouses and shops, the false coverage for the guild of assassins, people see them wearing looks of anger and terror; for they have survived a ‘polite meeting’ with the Grandfather of Assassins…and what a meeting it was…

The Grandfather stood before the two of them, clad in his personal arms and armor for battle; two scores of his best and deadliest body guards surrounding him. ALL of the guards have blades drawn and held at ready, in an instant any suicidal attacker will perish under poisoned steel…assuming that the loaded crossbow held by the Grandfather did not finish them first.

His discussion was direct and anger filled; not to mention emphatic on its clarity:

Among the three Masters – Gordon, Gerald and Cinnius – one of them is nearing the completion of planning for a coup. The sight of Grandfathers newest bronze statue, a late and unfortunate messenger from the ale-house carnage, stands as witness in muted, locked, screaming agony of the fate that may be soon to come for the two of them…

Grandfather explains in simple terms for the two there before him – stand loyal and on his side and you may survive, possibly advancing in position and power. “The choice is yours though, if you think you can overcome me with Gordon, then attempt to do so; just understand what will befall those who fail…”

He motioned with an extended hand over to the new statue…

The Grandfather explained the evidence having been found in a letter from Gordon; detailed information about him, Gordon, becoming ‘the new Grandfather’, and other comments that have been ‘discretely overheard by those closest to you both…”

The sheer, utter, shocked horror that crosses their faces is genuine. Never before could they have imagined just how far and complete Grandfather controlled his own network of spies and agents; they must take extra care in any move made to counter Gordon.

“This coming coup will fail. Of that have no doubt the two of you, it will fail,” he declared in a calm voice of iron control.

There are more than a few who overhear their not too quiet conversation; its accounting passes through the guild within the hour. Clues begin to merge with speculation and theories; each one being spun and twisted until they become accepted as the basis for fact and truth.

Most have come to find out that Master Gordon has allegedly locked himself away in his own manor house; his personal agents though are following members of his house staff, plus other members of the guild as well. Just this activity, common among the guild already, lends more fuel to the fire about the coup; only this time it seems to be that Masters Cinnius and Gerald are being set up as a decoy, or bait.

None can be sure who of the three Masters is in on the coup, who is bait and sacrifice, or if someone else is setting up a greater game to take down the Grandfather as well…all three make sense to the assassins.


For Master Cinnius though, the meeting with Grandfather ended with a dubious promotion of sorts; one that held all the potential of vast wealth and unexpected doom. One that all too clearly Grandfather was using for ulterior motives…and for his own survival at the top of the guild pecking order…

“Cinnius,” Grandfather began, “The restoration of the collections is now your task; Gordon has proven not to be up to the task and thus is now removed from it,” he gestured with his hands, then slapped them together in a statement of finality, leading the rest of those present to wonder if a death sentence has just been passed…

And if so, who would then die…

“See to the ale-house security and make sure that there are no more ‘disruptions’ to the operations; we are losing face and control over the city with each disruption to our operations…no mistakes will be accepted or tolerated…even the random executions are no longer working as desired,” Grandfather explained.

Many of the guild members understand the all too clear message hidden in his words. The guild is in control of the entire city, the undisputed rulers and masters of Providence and the surrounding lands; no one may challenge them in any way and be suffered to live. To remind people who dared to protest the ‘investigations’ brought about by the death of Finneous and his lover, Kimberly, sixty citizens were chosen at random and then slaughtered with their entire families in public – the price any defiance to the guilds rules will bring.

Yet while the people looked on in stark silence and terror, some of them looked on with pure anger in their eyes…a clear sign that the control of fear and terror was no longer having the desired effect. And if those who control Providence are no longer feared, how soon shall their subjects thoughts turn to revenge and justice for all of the assassin’s crimes?

Considering that these execution teams were led by Masters Cinnius and Gerald, they understand who will be among the first to fall if any kind of uprising does occur…And Master Gordon was the one to deliver the message, via an agent, to carry out the executions on behalf of the Grandfathers wishes.

Now the two begin to wonder – was the note really explaining the will of the Grandfather? Or is Grandfather playing a larger game with Gordon; weeding out the disloyal and unneeded, to further tighten his already iron strong hold on the guild?

Or could someone else be playing one group off against another…no, no one inside our out of the guild would even dare think of doing that. The guild of Providence is the deadliest in the world; no other has dared to make challenge against its grip on Providence in a century, and the legends of those who tried are still told as tales of the worst nightmares made reality.

“We must make our plans to deal with Gordon,” Cinnius tells Gerald with absolute finality, “he is ahead of us on the chessboard by a wide margin, and we need to upset the momentum he is building.”

“True,” Gerald says back, “but who took down the ale-house operations? THAT was Gordon’s task; if he did not waste his own men, then who would?”

That last question left them cold to the core of their being; they, the masters of inflicting fear and terror for the sake of control, are now losing control portion by portion. In losing control, they understand fear and terror from a new perspective, and do not like it at all.

[snowleopard3200]

“In fond memory of one who fell so young, Jambis, may he long be remembered for all he had done,” called out the merchant who is paying for everyone’s drinks this night. Sipping on the sour tasting swill they call wine and spirits in this wretched tavern, he eyes each patron and worker as they pass along his field of vision. With all too much ease he identifies the various agents working for the guild; specifically that most of them are those who answer directly to Grandfather.

“To Jambis, and all he had done,” everyone shouted out, glasses raised or clanking together in celebration for the free drink and food. The barkeep smiles as the merchant hands over a pouch heavy with coins, gold and silver, plus many precious gems for the party tonight; many comment that it is a night to be remembered for some time, and as a real surprise, a wagon with a score and ten count of small wooden tun’s of spirits, brandy and rum arrive.

Six men jump down from the back of the wagon and commence to manhandle the heavy load inside; causing a series of gasps, ooh’s and ah’s from all the guild agents within. They can tell these are the finest of the finest in drinks, each keg is worth a king’s ransom and here there are thirty in number…

The delivery man nods at the merchant, and then tells the party goers, “Courtesy of Master Gordon, we were instructed by a messenger of his to deliver these to you all, and quote ‘With thanks and best wishes for the future – Gordon.’ End quote.”

One of the patrol members of late Constable Jambis calls for a toast to Master Gordon. The merchant excuses himself, belching loudly and complaining of a sour stomach. He tells the barkeep to let the liquor flow until the funds are used up or the sun rises with the coming dawn. The barkeep genuflects before him, sniveling and honoring his generosity as a good little sycophant should do to anyone he wishes to impress.

“To Master Gordon and his most exceptional generosity, and exquisite taste in drinks,” the cheer is repeated three times by the crowd as the tun’s are either set aside for later, or tapped and mounted on the bar for the party at hand. Well into the night the party carries on, seeing tun after tun emptied to the last dreg of drink that can possibly be extracted from it.

Outside the merchant sees the last man of Jambis patrol depart, the man called Jackson. He is able to approach Jackson with nary a whisper of sound being made, and sends him sprawling to the ground with a quick blow to his chest and side of his jaw. So subtle is this that to any untrained observer, the merchant is just helping his passed out friend home.

Half dragging him into the alley, the merchant meets with another man, the one who delivered the tun’s of drink earlier. “Tie him up well and take him with the others, have your men guard them well; I will be along shortly to…let my pets deal with them once and for all.”

The man, one of his ladies personal agents, nods; he cannot help but shiver at the mention of Associates ‘pets.’ Such a fate should not happen to anyone, yet as the captured patrol work for the guild, he can make an exception. Besides which, these two have shown the guild is vulnerable after all; so he made sure the door was open earlier in the storeroom for Associate to taint the tun’s of drink.

All in all, this is a very good night.

Of course, the members of Jambis's patrol, when they awaken and see their impending fate; may disagree with that opinion of things.

[snowleopard3200]

Originally Posted by BabyBella

I can’t wait for more, as the intrigue grows with each chapter. Your writing, as always, is a delight. Keep up the good work, Snow.

BB - thanks.

[ELaken-Palmer]

Like the Mafia where you rise in the ranks and yet everyone keeps killing each other. It's like a club where you don't really want to be a member. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth... kill the horse before it (somehow) kills you.

[snowleopard3200]

Originally Posted by ELaken-Palmer

Like the Mafia where you rise in the ranks and yet everyone keeps killing each other. It's like a club where you don't really want to be a member. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth... kill the horse before it (somehow) kills you.

The Mafia? In a manner; the one difference here is that there are two other assassins in the game; who desire a very different outcome than the Grandfather and his minions can anticipate (maybe).

Anyone care to guess what Associates pets are?

I am glad that people are liking the story; and for the record I will say this much - there will be at least one more sex scene before it wraps up.

[snowleopard3200]

The morning sees Master Gerald pacing the length of his manors great hall, confusion and worry clearly visible on his face. His personal guards pick up on his unease, as anything that can make their boss act this way has to be taken as a priority threat; their own lives depend upon it.

Within a day of their meeting with Grandfather, Masters Gerald and Cinnius met; setting their plans into action and making future preparations. For their sake (of keeping alive), they keep Grandfather informed of their every action. It is decided they will task their own agents to follow those of Gordon’s, recording each and every deed and contact made.

They will find out Gordon’s plans soon enough, if such plans indeed do exist…

Each Master in turn, once back at their respective estates, orders that extra agents be attached to watch their respective counterparts; just on the off chance the fellow Master is about to make a double or triple cross. As three more days pass, they begin to suspect Gordon is up to exactly – nothing. No plans or moves are apparent to them or their agents…

Then came the devastating news…in the night forty of the guild agents, all of them Grandfathers, have perished. They were attending a party given by a visiting merchant, in honor of the late Constable Jambis, and for the sake of his surviving patrol members. All of the ale and spirits delivered came with the funds of Gordon and a message saying: “With Thanks and Best Wishes for the future – Gordon.”

All that anyone is absolutely sure of is that the patrol departed, one member at a time, and that the drinks are doctored – using a type of rare poison favored by Gordon and his best agents.

“Find out if Gordon or another did this deed,” Gerald shouted at his lead agents, “Redouble the efforts on collecting any and all information on the street, find out anything you can, and I do mean anything at all…GO!”

By nightfall they have an ominous sign that shouts volumes to anyone who understands; the streets have gone silent. Completely silent save for the agents of Grandfather, Cinnius and Gerald; thus the signs of a pending coup seem to be confirmed at last. Most are now assuming that Master Gordon is going for broke, to take down Cinnius and Gerald, using them in a triple play – they appear to betray the guild and Grandfather; who in turn eliminates them, and then becomes vulnerable to Gordon…

To Master Gordon, upon hearing the news of his agents being watched, decides HE is the target for a fall; the scapegoat for the pending coup of Gerald and Cinnius…who else would dare strike at an operation under his personal charge…shame and discredit him, then eliminate him while setting Grandfather up for the fall..

It makes perfect sense in its own convoluted way.

“So be it,” Gordon declares. His mind is made up, the betrayers have to die for setting HIM up, whichever of them it might be; and on the off chance the Grandfather of Assassins is setting all of them up, he will go for control of the guild.

“Gordon – Grandfather of Assassins, I like the ring that has,” he smiles wickedly, heading off to prepare and make plans. He feels no pangs of guilt or conscience in betraying his fellow Masters or the Grandfather; for that is the way of the assassin.

[snowleopard3200]

Standing upon the high wooden loft of the warehouse, Associate holds the final man of late Constable Jambis patrol, Jackson, by the cord that binds his ankles together. The terrified man, upside down, looks at his pending fate far below, the twenty and four large forms, moving fast and with power for such massive beasts, their six inch tusks red with the blood and torn flesh of the others who went down before him…

He had awaken from the party last night, bound and gagged, inside this warehouse; one by one his friends had been dragged away by this man and then tormented with views of what awaits them below. One by one they howled, begged, whimpered and pleaded for mercy; their captors’ eyes, cold and hard beyond anything he could recall seeing, even on the one occasion he met the Grandfather of Assassins, told the tale…

There shall be no mercy.

“Listen,” their captor told each in turn, as he had told Jackson, “try to die with a bit of dignity; at least go to your ancestors with some grace; so you can say you died with your honor, such as it is, intact.”

Associate repeatedly cries out to his pets, whipping them into a frenzy of death and dismemberment, the shrill snorts and cries harshly assaulting the ears; thunderous retorts rebound off the mostly empty warehouse stone walls, instilling even more terror in his shaking captive.

Each whimper, pleading howl and scream of absolute terror is sweet music to Associates ears; for these Western fools know or understand nothing of true honor.

So as the patrol members have never shown mercy; thus none shall be shown in return.

“Tell you what Jackson; I am in a merciful mood right now. I’ll give you a fighting chance,” Associate says while he uses a knife to slash at the restraints that bind the man’s feet together.

“Please…don’t kill me…what did we ever do to you…” Jackson said while wracked with sobs of absolute terror; he has seen all the others perish in such a gruesome method; one that even the guild executioners would cringe from inflicting on anyone…maybe…

“Oh alright already, I’ll let you go just to stop hearing your dreadful whining; pathetic, you should face death with a warrior’s fearless charge and keep your dignity…” Associate declared.

“You’re going to let me go?” Jackson asked a grateful smile on his face.

“Yes I will,” Associate said as the weakened rope bindings separate.

“AGHHHH!” Jackson screamed on his downward plunge, followed by the meaty thwack of him hitting the floor below.

Associate watches with disinterest on his face, hearing the death screams knelling out loud and clear as his pets go to work on the man. Soon enough silence, save for the tearing of flesh, crushing of bone and occasional snort and grunt remain to be heard.

Associate shakes his head, wondering why such an idiot would actually believe he would set him free; he only promised to let him go…in this case to feed his pets…

His only regret is that Jambis is already dead; he would love to have finished him off, a debt owed for the savage kicks delivered to his head that day.

Soon enough though, his patience will be rewarded, and the one who ordered the elimination of his sister and her family will perish in a similiar manner...

A thought occurs to Associate...

"Maybe I could cover him in cheese first and then toss him down there; might make him taste better than as raw meat for my pets..."

A good idea to consider.

[thatcuriousone]

Tusks?
. . . That leaves too many unanswered questions Snow.

[snowleopard3200]

Originally Posted by thatcuriousone

Tusks?
. . . That leaves too many unanswered questions Snow.

Patience, the 'pets' of Associate wait for their end game as well; as an insturment of justice and revenge for him. All will be revealed in due time.

[ELaken-Palmer]

Still following the fates, of the many characters in this epic tale, with interest.

[snowleopard3200]

Darius, master toymaker and general mad man of Providence walked into the flower shop looking for the lady who runs it – Clairice. To the bemusement of everyone around he looks at the trees, waving friendly to them and mutters about the need to ‘build that flying machine today.’

For three weeks since the death of Jambis patrol members, he has heard the stories growing by the hour of how they had been responsible for the death of Grandfathers two score of agents. Each time he hears the tale told over and over, he chuckles an insane chuckle, covering up his real mirth at their demise by his own hands.

Among the knickknacks he sees several fine clocks, locks, and other gizmos that are of interest; yet he needs to get her paid back first – she gave him the funds he needed to get his workshop up and running once again. He sees her bent over the countertop, hands clasped against the far side as she looks down at the floor.

“Hey Clairice,” he shouted, waving frantically to get her attention. Coming to her he plops down on the floor cross-legged, looking up into her eyes. She motions repeatedly with her hand for him to scoot on out the door, even as her mouth opens and closes in silent gasps and groans; she gulps now and then while her eyes flutter rapidly.

One time he sees her clench her fist in her mouth, eyes closing as her body shudders briefly in time with some noises coming from behind the counter. Her silent gasps continue, eyes glazing over as she tightens her grip on the counter again, both hands holding firm and strong. When she manages to regain a bit of composure, once again she tries to wave him out the door. Her hands move swiftly in an intricate gesture, telling him in no uncertain terms to scram…

Of course it matters not to Darius, he strikes up a one sided conversation with the intricate laid brickwork of the floor.

Only a momentarily rustling of cloth being moved about distracts him, to let him see Clairice shifting some as her back arched upward and down, her eyes dancing with wild abandonment, cheeks fully blushed and radiating heat like a oven.

Once again her hands move in the silent language she uses to communicate with him; telling him if he remains to stay quiet and do nothing to interfere.

He sees her shift again, then a third time. A steady rhythm of slapping sounds mixed in with the calls of some kind of animal catch his attention. Sudden inspiration hits and he pulls out of his harness-bag a pile of blank parchment, charcoal pencils and a ruler to begin quickly putting his idea to paper. For the moment Clairice is all but forgotten by him.

She fights to keep her body from moving forward, she mouths a silent cry of wild delight and bliss. Each move of the gentleman’s manhood inside of her pushes the waves of bliss and pleasure forward with unstoppable energy. Just a bit before Darius arrived the butler of Master Gordon arrived with a dozen roses from his bosses’ estate; he offered her some of them for a fee – when she could not meet the asked for amount in coin he asked about another kind of ‘transaction.’

For such a rare prize the cost is worth it, or so she hopes.

Pushing her disheveled hair out of her face, she had been having her womanhood explored by his hands and mouth when Darius entered; now though he speeds up his actions, not interested in her own pleasure one bit – all that matters is his own needs, and he makes all manner of insults of Master Gordon, especially about how easy it was to take the roses right off the estates grounds under his very nose.

One final series of deep, loud and bellowing grunts and groans from the butler sends his life seed deep inside of her. For once in her life she is glad that she cannot get pregnant, for she would never want a child conceived of by this monster…

Now that it’s over she starts to move when he pushes her back into place; slamming her face into the wooden counter with such force to briefly stun her, then he boxes her across the ears repeatedly; the matter is not yet done. Time and time again he smacks her hard on her bottom, drawing pain filled silent screams from her.

Darius, just a few inches away is totally oblivious to the exchange.

She feels him pull up higher on her, his manhood once again at full attention ready to do its duty. He comments that the men of his family have the ability to do it twice back to back; to the ‘delight of all the women we deem to give our affections to’ of course.

Clairice does not see matters in such a light.

Sharp pain shoots up into her brain, eyes flaring wide as her teeth bite into her lips with enough force to draw a trickle of blood from them. Thrust by pain filled thrust he works his manhood in and out of her, not of her womanhood, but of a more sensitive and private area nearby.

His hands roam up under her shirt, straining the tight bound fabric of her vest as they find and crush her breasts.

“Now my dear,” he says calmly between grunts of excitement, “I hope this part will serve as a reminder that I will not accept any betrayals kindly; your silence means you will live. One word on where the flowers come from and you die.”

The next five minutes are a wave of fiery agony as his hands tighten their grip on her breasts, his manhood pumping for all he is worth in an out of that spot; then he hits his release and pulls out. He just looks upon her with barely concealed contempt.

“You know the price from now on when you deal with the assassins’ guild. As I said, keep your mouth shut and you will live. Next time I bring some roses though, make sure there is another woman here with you. I want to see you have sex with her right before I rape the both of you into submission like the whore you now are. Good day.”

As he walks out the door and down the street she just covers her head and sobs, not moving from the location.

Had anyone watching bothered to look at Darius, they would have seen the madness leave his eyes, purest of murder and rage filling them in turn. His hand hovered just on the edge of a knife hilt, ready to be thrown and subject the target with one of the deadliest of poison’s he who is not Darius knows how to make.

He has been commanded not to do anything, no matter what happened to her.

Yet he will, when the time comes to bring the plan to an end, have his day with the butler if he still lives…after he deals with the Grandfather of Assassins and regains his name...only the chance for avenging his fallen sister and her children keeps his hand, from avenging the dishonor to his lady...

She who is not Clairice finally regained some of her lost composure from the brutal ending of the encounter; for the plan to advance she will endure anything…in the end the results will more than justify it...

For as Associate seeks to avenge the fallen kin of his own; so does she...

========

Over the next hour agents of the Constables and Masters Gordon, Cinnius and Gerald flow in and out of her store, having her detail again and again all that happened between her and the butler.

Darius had to be escorted out of the shop at one point so he would not damage the flowers from Gordon’s estate; he was trying to settle a ‘argument’ between the flowers and a half filled cup of water. He kept touching the petals and leaves of each flower, encouraging them to ‘settle their disputes with the nice cup as a civilized being should do these days,’ pure madness indeed.

“He is harmless,” the Constable told everyone, “just scoot him outside and lets get these back to Master Gordon,” he says indicating the flowers.

He does compliment Clairice on how she prepared the flowers for transport; they are still damp with moisture from being watered. Looking at the other flowers on display he decides to come back later and purchase some for his wife.

One of his aides gathers up the multiple copies of her testimony and then divides them among the agents for the three Masters. The aide plays a most dangerous game, appearing as a confidant for all three Masters while he is actually working for the Grandfather of Assassins directly.

Within the hour all four know what occurred in the shop between Clairice and the butler.

What they fail to understand is that in the larger game, a second king is set for checkmate; while the others are on the way to the same…

Tonight the shop will be vacated…

Shortly, the gambit will sweep up the Second King; and set the stage for the Third and the Fourth to enter battle...

[marry4]

huh

[snowleopard3200]

Bounce.

[ELaken-Palmer]

Not exactly all coming together but, at least, the butler got to cum... twice. Who is Clairise that is not Clairise and why is she telling all when she was told to tell no one? These are questions.

[snowleopard3200]

Originally Posted by ELaken-Palmer

Not exactly all coming together but, at least, the butler got to cum... twice. Who is Clairise that is not Clairise and why is she telling all when she was told to tell no one? These are questions.

ELP - Patience, but here is a clue: look back to the "interrogation" of Clairice earlier by the Constable Inspector Kimberly. Sorry if this part was a bit too obscure for people; it sets the stage for the next portion, which should be a real blast...

[snowleopard3200]

“My lady,” Associate says with gentleness and compassion in his voice; he cringes to see such pain in those amethyst eyes. He cannot comprehend the pain and humiliation she has withstood to advance their plan.

He has good tidings though; the one who loved to inflict such pain and humiliation has fallen…

Her gamble played out, telling the story of the Gordons butler to the Constable and the agents of Masters Cinnius and Gerald...and thus advancing the plan even more...

“We have confirmation of the street rumors; the body of Master Gordon’s butler has been found. It appears he was tortured into making some kind of confession and then executed by skin stealing.”

He shook his head at the thought of such a barbaric execution; the literal skinning of a victim one square inch at a time using knifes and special acids to enhance the pain and extend the victims lifespan.

“For other good news, we have word from our agents that the real Clairice and Darius have been safely smuggled to freedom. Jesmine and her family will be, in their words, ‘soon to arrive safely in a new home and life.’ All of the pre-agreed confirmation words are there, so it is authentic.”

He looks upon her with major chagrin on his countenance.

“My lady, I have to say, the success we have managed to achieve by taking the roles of Clairice and Darius before the hunt began…a true stroke of genius on your part. Also those who lead the groups in waiting are now fully committed; those innocent families executed by the guild as ‘examples,’ plus the first strike we have made convinced them. The days of the guild are now of a very limited number. They only need the word from you and the end game commences.”

"Word from one of our agents has mentioned of a party to 'shoot a ton of billiards' is being held tonight by Master Cinnius at the ale-house operations; so once again your 'gift' to him should be coming into play this very night."

The thought of what will happen when the 'gift' comes into play, a masterfully created set of billiard balls, draws matching grins from them both; the eyes of his lady though, glare with the harsh fires of revenge and all too long delayed justice...

===========

Master Cinnius has come to the ale-house operations, mostly to double check yet again on all aspects of the new, layered security he has installed. Grandfathers warning had been made all too clear – if he fails to stop any disruption in the operations, then HE will be held responsible; and that death will be a mercy for him when it finally comes.

So it has come to be that the guards are now tripled; both those visible inside and outside the place, on the street and those hidden on nearby rooftops – bows ready to be used in an instant. Their orders are simple, direct and very clear: anyone who may pose any kind of threat are to be cut down without mercy. They are to keep a double watch, as Cinnius expects a swift, angry retributive strike from Master Gordon to come all too soon.

Master Gerald figures it will be otherwise, insisting Gordon is focused on the pending coup against Grandfather, and will come after Cinnius later – assuming that Cinnius and Gerald do not dispose of Gordon to please the Grandfather when the coup attempt comes.

So it has come to the second reason for him to be here…relaxation. Three weeks of constant silence; tension in the air so thick one could cut it with a dull knife, has all but frayed his nerves. So it is he has come to shoot some billiards, his favored game. The set was sent to him long before the current troubles with Gordon, a master crafted wonder without flaws…he will keep it as a trophy and a reminder of better days and times…and toast Gordon each time he plays after the craven turncoat lies dead at his feet.

“No sense to let such a gift go unused,” he told the men setting it up.

“Ah the pure irony of such a gift, perfectly made and delivered here by Gordon as a peace offering,” he declared to his guards and senior agents gathered around, “yet he has chosen to betray Grandfather. Thus we will enjoy the game, and when he starts his coup – we shall go and kill him as dead as possible. Now let’s have some fun this night before the fires of battle come forth.”

Cinnius watched his men laugh and joke around, the ribald atmosphere allowing him to relax for one time, a rare and genuine smile of mirth coming forth. As he prepares his cue stick, many wager on the number of balls to be sunk on the breaking shot.

He lines up the pool stick with the cue ball, adjusting for the perfect break that he is justly famed for among all of the guild and in Providence. “Let the fires of battle come forth,” he declared. His arm comes back ever so slightly…

COUGH!

The pool stick goes flying over the table, landing on the far side with a solid, echoing clang. Everyone cringes at the look of absolute murder on Cinnius’s face. The offender quickly apologizes, gets the pool stick and hands it back with all proper demeanor to one who can kill him in so many horrendous ways.

“Okay, now for the perfect shot, for the perfect game,” he says with a smile, taunt nerves relaxing once again.

Lining the shot up once again, he focuses completely on the break he wants to make, six balls sent into the six pockets, the perfect shot for the opening. Delighted in the setup, he draws back again, preparing for the shot of all shots…

ACHOOO!

Once again the pool stick goes to the floor, once again the murderous look comes forth; though this time the offender does not move, his associates holding knives to his heart, neck, jaw and organs, waiting for the moment Cinnius orders his release or execution. They look to him with clear expectation, wanting to rejoin the game so badly interrupted twice already.

“Just hold him there in complete silence while I take the shot,” Cinnius said. His pool stick brought by another, he lines up the shot for the third time; looks back to the held man as if expecting yet another interruption, then turns and makes the shot with full, raw nerved brute force delivery…

Whack!

The cue ball is smacked with a short, intense burst of the stick, sending it on its all too short journey towards the other balls; the small, delicate container held within shattering completely; thus the mixture of volatile liquids, each on its own harmless, to instantly mix and become a witches brew that Cinnius has not anticipated…

[ELaken-Palmer]

Holy balls, Batman! It looks like fini for Cinnius and the boys. The innuendo is that things could be coming to a crescendo at the endo.

[snowleopard3200]

Originally Posted by ELaken-Palmer

Holy balls, Batman! It looks like fini for Cinnius and the boys. The innuendo is that things could be coming to a crescendo at the endo.

ELP you state things so well!


We shall see.

Just remember, there are still two of the four Kings left.

[BabyBella]

I was a bit behind with this and have just read six chapters back to back, and already I’m waiting for more. I can’t claim to understand everything that’s going on, but that’s what makes it so intriguing. I’m sure everything will start to click into place soon and it will all become clear, even to someone like me. Nice to see Associate get in on the action at last and do more than just lust after his Mistress. Wonderful stuff, as always, Snow.

[snowleopard3200]

Originally Posted by BabyBella

I was a bit behind with this and have just read six chapters back to back, and already I’m waiting for more. I can’t claim to understand everything that’s going on, but that’s what makes it so intriguing. I’m sure everything will start to click into place soon and it will all become clear, even to someone like me. Nice to see Associate get in on the action at last and do more than just lust after his Mistress. Wonderful stuff, as always, Snow.

BB - first thing first, do not sell yourself short; its too common a trait for all people (especially for myself) to do so. More will be cleared up as the gambit continues.

And thank you BB.

[snowleopard3200]

Upon her face he sees a silent question being asked. “My lady I have made sure the flower shop appears to have been fled in due haste to allow us – you and me as the false Clairice and Darius – to get out of the city. There are hastily scrawled notes with final deliveries to be made via the cities couriers.”

“As per your plan,” his grin turned into a wicked smile; the images at play of panic and paranoia coming to the survivors around their chosen targets brings Associate a fair amount of amusement.

“those flowers going as ‘gifts’ to the various guild assassins, agents and their leaders, save for those of Gordon, are treated with the ‘heart stop’ poison; in the time it takes for it to become viable, the couriers will be safe; of course after the deliveries are made, some of the assassins will not be safe, or breathing for that matter by days end.”

============

Just as he intended Cinnius beholds the cue ball smack with brutal force into the other balls; such is the force the mixed liquids within the cue ball, a witches brew called by alchemists “Liquid Hellfire” responds in a fierce, raw and spectacular detonation of flame and force, the shockwave caressing the other balls and expanding into the rooms dimensions before anyone can even comprehend what has happened…

By this time though, the nine other balls, carefully tailored and textured to hide the explosive liquid within, react in sympathetic detonation to the shockwaves caress. These ten blasts, bouncing off the solid and thick stone walls that separate the front and backsides of the ale house, smash walls, crush furniture and chests, toss goods around and deliver blows that crush and tear at the guild agents and guards present, rending bone and bursting organs along with compressing brain matter to a pulped mass.

Those who somehow survive these blows are within an instant hit and burned by flames so hot that bone itself ignites and powders. For those beyond the fireballs range, the iron and steel shards, jagged and flying at insane speeds, preset around the inside of the balls shred them even more.

So great is the force generated that the very roof itself on the back half of the ale-house is raised over six feet. Those on the streets see it fly up, and descend with enough force to shake the ground for a considerable distance.

Members of the guild lay dead and injured all over the street, some felled in the initial blast; others by the collapse of nearby building fronts sundered free by hellish forces; partial bodies, and bared limbs that move for a brief time amid heaps of shattered, torn wood, glass and brickwork tell of the charnel mounds they have become.

Those who have survived, or rush up from nearby to see what aid can be rendered stand there in appalled shock, unable to comprehend what has just happened. Clearly, for those who were directly in the back of the ale-house, there are no survivors to be found.

=======

The retort of artificial thunder, followed by the loud, hollow, booming thud of the roofs descent coming to an end draws the swift attention of Grandfather. He was walking on the high balcony of his private chambers, deep in though about Gordon; wondering for the first time if he had judged the situation wrong…then came the roar and column of fire clawing its way to the sky around the ascending ale-house roof.

He and his guards watched in fascinated horror the scene unfold, knowing instinctively that Gordon has just struck back at Cinnius; and in a manner no one could have anticipated. Quickly his guards recover, raising their metal shields about his person, on the off chance that arrows were even then heading to end the life of their charge.

Heading into the depths of the guild hall, Grandfather shouted to all of his loyal – such as they are – minions to prepare the defenses; warning that the expected coup may be at hand. A lone runner is sent to investigate the matter, to report back with all haste. Grandfather sees a most unexpected sight, though one that pleases him, that of Master Gerald, present on guild business, standing with the guard at the main doors, prepared to meet the first assault with drawn blades.

Apparently Gerald fears death by the Grandfathers hands if he failed, than to face his old associate Gordon.

======

Associate and his lady had been observing the day from one of their many safe house’s when the thunder came, clear and distinct to their ears. They rushed to the window nearest that direction, in time to see the last clawing flame carry into the sky; columns of smoke rising steadily in silent blackness as a shroud for the dead.

The two of them take a silent delight in the realization that the second king of four is now dead. They had found his one weakness, the love of billiards and his pride in being the best player in Providence, and have brought him low.

“Wow, I guess that Master Cinnius has lost that game, bringing down the house in the process,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Who could have figured he had such an explosive temperament? Oh, while I recall the matter, those poisoned flowers were sent out over Gordon’s signature of payment and delivery; there is no sense in making sure the wrong person gets blamed after all…”

She just rolled her eyes unto the heavens at his attempt at humor; secretly pleased to have him at her side, both for the companionship (when he is not trying to stare at her naked body), his sense of humor, and his ability to adept and improvise on the spot when the plan of theirs needs to be altered due to emergencies or opportunities that come about.

When she turns to him, catching his attention with her eyes, he gulps from the loving, tender, fiery smile she shows. He quietly excuses himself, the cast iron plate over his manhood clanging against another layer of mail underneath…probably assuming another knife blade is on the way…

She looks back at the column of smoke, quite pleased. Two are dead of the four. Soon enough the third will fall and the true terror for the guild will come in the end game. Soon justice for all of Providence will be delivered, and her chosen name, taken up after the death of her parents, will be fulfilled…

Soon…

======

Chaos reigns as the patrons from the front of the ale-house and other street vendors and shops flee for their very lives. Some stubbornly remain behind, finishing their drinks or grabbing bottles of drink from shelves as the roof commences to sag, then come down in a howl of sundered wood and stone. Many of those who flee pass by the backside, seeing heaps of coins, jewelry and gems lying scattered about and make a blind grab for the freed fortune before them.

Howls and cries of panic become fuel for many wild rumors, especially of the long expected coup for the lead of the assassins’ guild having begun. The fear turns into terror unprecedented on the streets, agents of all sides who rush to see what can be done or what has happened begin to brawl with the citizens who just want to get out of there. All too soon the expected glean of steel being unleashed is to be seen, soon covered by wet redness along its length.

From hidden shadows high overhead, balanced among the wreckage of the surrounding buildings, eight figures draw back on composite short bows, their lacquered surfaces dulled down with dirt and mud to cut off any gleam of light reflecting off of them. Eight knocked arrows – tips coated with the deadliest of venom – line up with their selected targets…

Then with their leaders’ subtle nod, they fly swift and true to their targets. Even as these eight figures begin to collapse, choking and gurgling into death from the venom; eight more arrows are inbound; shortly to be joined by a last volley of eight more.

Descending swiftly down a nearby tree at the back of the building they throw their quivers and bows into the back of a readied wagon. Quick from long practice, the eight hunters – master archers all who help feed the city by boar hunting in the wild forests near Providence – hide their implements of war and rejoin city life, headed as so many others do in making deliveries from one shop to another.

They had been returning from an unsuccessful hunt in the woods; when the explosion came, they saw an opportunity to score another blow on the guild; so it is the first blow by the people of Providence is inflicted, the first of many to come…

======

“Gordon’s troops are attacking!” come the hue and cry from the few guards still standing around in horror at the carnage. The cry is repeated again and again as the arrows fell one score and one of guild agents and guards of the late Master Cinnius.

“Shoot them all down; shoot everyone down in the streets!” Cinnius’s guard captain on duty calls, just before a brick thrown by someone smashes into his face; sending him careening off the rooftop and into a bone crushing meeting with the ground below. With his final shout, pandemonium breaks loose beyond belief; as the rooftop guards follow his last instructions to the letter, unleashing salvo after salvo of crossbow bolts, tips coated with poison, into the gathered mass below…

They spare no time or effort to sort friend from foe, they just assume all are targets and strike without any bit of mercy or compassion. All who stand may be enemies, thus they must die. If they fail, they know their own lives will be forfeit to the unmerciful wrath of the Grandfather…

Down below, those who survive the reign of arrows and then the massive salvos of crossbow projectiles turn on their attackers from above. Many shout out that Gordon’s forces are on the high ground and commence to fire back with bows, crossbows, stone chunks and bricks. Anything they can get their hands upon is fair game to send upward, returning death for death as the carnage climbs with each passing second.

======

The lone agent of Grandfather sent by him to investigate the blast watches from around a shop corner in horror at the battle being waged before him; he hears the citizens running past, the cries of guards and agents saying that Master Gordon is on the attack, then flees with all haste back to the guild hall and reports his news.

“This is it men, stand strong and fast, Gordon must be coming with everything for us here,” Grandfather shouts out with growing excitement and fury. FINALLY the confrontation is about to happen, and he will remind all of Providence why HE is the Grandfather of the guild. NONE shall rule in his stead; absolutely none.

When that last thought echoed into the depths of his mind; Grandfather wondered for a moment if he has just set the prophecy of his own downfall into motion; plus that of the guild. He snorts the matter away, hand on his drawn sword waiting for the first pounding on the great hall doors that tell of the battle to be joined…

So he waits…

And he waits…

And he waits…

Well into the evening the guild waits for the strike that never comes. Grandfather learns from many of his own agents among Master Gordon’s manor that Gordon has sealed the place up tight. It appears Gordon assumed this was a move on the part of Master Gerald to eliminate Cinnius and him in one swift, calculated movement that sweeps two rivals clear of the board in an instant.

======

Late into the night the surviving guards of the late Master Cinnius, only a ten and four in number, tell of the attack in detail to Grandfather as he sits in smoldering silence on his throne. They tell in exaggerated gestures and word’s the size of the attack, the massive slaughter and the way they valiantly repulsed it after such a fierce battle one wonders if a dragon was on the scene.

In regards to the massive detonation that took down the entire ale-house, backside operation and Master Cinnius on one swift blow…no one has any explanation at all; save for one who remarked that Cinnius said the billiard set he was using that night was “a gift from Gordon before he betrayed us.”

“So then gentlemen, how shall I reward you now?” Grandfather said to the fourteen guards, whose eyes lit up with fires of greed and delight.



They soon found out their ‘reward’ was to be pressed. They howled for mercy as guards’ grabbed hold of them, dragging them away to the executioners hold. With inhuman swiftness, tied to great frames of wood on the ground, the executioners directed Grandfathers guards (the directions issued as polite suggestions) in placing of great wooden panels over the men; to be topped in turn every few minutes with a fifty pound hunk of brick shaped stone. Over the course of hours the men were ‘pressed’ until they either suffocated, or their ribs snapped, piercing lungs and the heart.

As for the agent who brought news of the false start of a coup to Grandfather…

A new statue of him cast in silver joined the one of bronze from the earlier messenger executed in a similar manner. Even the hardened guards of Grandfather watched with silent horror as the man had been lowered inch by inch, headfirst, into the molten metal, his howls echoing far and wide down the dark halls of the executioners tunnels.

=======

Three days later the Associate reads a message conveyed to she with the Amethyst eyes, a true smile upon his face for once in so long of a time.

“My lady, the leadership of ‘those who wait’ have agreed to prepare for an opportunity to emerge; they have declared ‘send the message and we will do our part, as promised, then the accounts with the guild shall be settled in full,’ “ he told her.

“So my lady, do we begin to raise the level of pressure and paranoia to a new height in this matter? Or may I add a little ‘twist’ to the situation?” her Associate asks.

At her prompting he explains his little ‘twist’ on their plan; her eyes and smile gleam in delight from his small suggestion. Right now the two of them have entered into dangerous ground, not only preparing to strike at Masters Gordon and Gerald; there is the matter of the guilds Grandfather – assuming he survives the flowers sent to him, being roused to action.

This very night, as per Associates little ‘twist’ on their plan, another whispered rumor begins: there is a bounty of one hundred gold bars to the assassin of the guild who brings down the Grandfather of Assassins.

Gordon is reputedly the one making the offer…of course that is only rumor…just the kind to get you executed by the paranoid guild leadership.

The gambit is accelerating to its conclusion; soon enough it shall be determined who will be left alive…

Associate reminds himself that no matter what comes for his personal fate; his honor shall be restored before he dies…no matter what...and his fallen sister, along with the young girl she spoke so highly of, that he never will meet, shall be avenged.

[ELaken-Palmer]

Plenty of action in this continuation and a good job of telling the story. Can't wait for the next part.

[snowleopard3200]

Originally Posted by ELaken-Palmer

Plenty of action in this continuation and a good job of telling the story. Can't wait for the next part.

Thank you ELP, from here on out the gambit will accelerate in pace; and with a guild of assassins, paranoia can be so much fun...

[snowleopard3200]

Her eyes glimmering with their amethyst fires, she watches Associate go about his preparations for the pending end game of the gambit. As he sorts and examines in minutest of detail the tools, weapons and gear of their trade, a warm smile comes to her mouth; her cheek resting on a raised hand grasping the door jam as she makes no sound for some time.

Each of his tools, from lock-picks to coils of black silken rope, vials of poisons to cripple or kill, along with an assortment of tools and arms no one save for them alone could comprehend in the Western lands. She watches as he examines a throwing star under the lantern light, its razor honed edges perfect and flawless; then his own throwing and battle knives, a bamboo blowgun only inches in length, and the all too deadly coated darts to be used in it.

Yet she remembers with some affection the one lesson Shan Tiel had begun her training with; one that for him, came as a ultimate surprise when she answered his question…

“Granddaughter,” he asked her showing off the armory of weapons in his house, “which of these do you figure is the most dangerous of the hunter? Is there any one that you see here, that can defeat any other?”

Still so young and small in stature at the time she had to motion him to bend down to her height; then with one small hand, she touched his forehead, and then his heart. His warm smile was genuine, delighted at the answer given to him.

“Yes you do understand very well. The deadliest weapon we who hunt the assassin have is the mind and the passions of the heart; used together, you cannot be defeated.”

Associate had in the short time of her warmly recalled memories raised to practice with his twin blades of their profession, sliding them from their sheaths of lacquered wood, the ninja-to. Fourteen inches of honed steel, strong and razor sharp, he danced in a beautiful, poetic play of death. Each move is poetry of music and form, of control and energy used: parry-strike, strike-parry, double slash and thrusts, a flurry of motion no one could come close to matching save for her.

Even unarmed they are among the deadliest of fighters, their very bodies the ultimate, living weapons.

His routine comes to its end after some time; and Associate pretends to notice her for the very first time, though he was aware of her standing by the doorway for some time now. One thing with both of them, living among the hoard of assassins and spies of the guild has honed their superb skills to new, necessary levels than many would have dreamed.

“My lady…I apologize for my lack of manners…please enters if you will…”

His surprise is complete when she gently touches him with one of her hands; moving it up to gently strokes his cheeks and brows. She feels the brief tension ease out of his body as she circles his face, playfully teasing brows, nose, eyes, ears and cheeks.

His lips she parts slightly with fingertips, stroking the insides and drawing a slight flush to his cheeks.

The warmth of his breath on her hand draws a soft, loving smile to her own lips. Once again her hand flows over cheeks, brows and nose, along his jaw and gently on his neck before returning again and again to his face.

Moving up to him she presses her lips to his; so soft and tender that his flush becomes fully red, heat pulsating outward as a fully stoked fire in the bread ovens. Three times she does this, then kisses his nose, and on tippy toes delivers one on his forehead.

His searching eyes quickly discern that her robe has partly opened, revealing the glistening smooth skin that tantalizing hints at needing to be touched, stroked and seduced; her bared breast, cast in dancing shadows by the soft, low light in the room, glistens like a secret concealed within a mystery promising unlimited treasures and sensations, or full and savage death.

She enfolds him with one arm, taking up his hand with her other, then gently guiding it to that exposed breast; holding it firm in place while he looks at her with some shock. He feels the heat of her body merging with his, skin to skin, the beating of her heart and the steady rhythm of her breathing surging into his mind, telling him that this is no dream, but a treasure she is offering to him willingly.

Slowly he starts to caress and stroke it with his fingertips, working from the nipple outward in a spiral to return inward again and repeats the cycle several times; all the while he revels in the silken perfection of her skin, the heady perfume that smells of lilac, roses and ginseng mixing with all the sweet-salty smells that are uniquely HER.

Gently he closes his eyes with each deep inhalation of these smells, burning them into his mind in the event of her dying soon, he will cherish this moment to the end of his days…

He sees the soft fluttering in her eyes, eyelids flickering up and down as she begins to gnaw lightly on those luscious lips that are highlighted with a sweet tasting strawberry gloss.

He moves his free hand to the edge of her robe, the blue silk that is embossed with cherry trees, roses and a pair of white birds in flight accentuating the curves of her body, hiding some in shadow and others in reflected light so their glory may be seen in full.

Looking at her he motions downward while indicating the robe.

To his continuing surprise and delight she nods with a tender smile.

Slipping it under the silk he gently uncovers the other breast, then works along the hem; once up to her shoulder he eases is down her arm. His whistle of delight and wonderment at the sight of her bared skin brings a true and luscious blush to her face, a silent giggle of consternation with her head turning away, though her eyes return quickly and with a glimmer of desires fires fully alight.

All of that falls in and on itself, reality turned different when his first kiss gently presses on one spot of her shoulder, then another and another until he reaches her neck. The flow of kisses continues over each inch of her skin, drawing shivers, quivers, titters and twitches that build one upon the next.

They momentarily separate, much to his surprise, until she finishes taking off the robe and letting it puddle about her feet. She steps out of it and embraces him fully in her arms, pressing so close and tight with his body he feels the two of them are merging into one – the perfection of yin-yang, of the male and female embodied as one being for all time…

Her arms have encompassed his neck as he folds his about her waist.

Moving them downward he massages her lower back, easing along her waist and hip seeking each area he can find to bring the maximum sensations of bliss of her body he can extract. Gentle spirals and helix patterns in which he mixes motions of the alphabet, intertwining with the word-figures of the Far East languages, for each one brings a different reaction to her body, some large and some small, one intense that almost knocks her off her feet, while others have her gasp as she lowers her head against his chest, eyes closing while silent lips open and close.

He inhales the wonderful brew of scents now including that of her raw sexuality mixing into them; more and more it turns on the fires within his own body; causing his own manhood to rise to the occasion as his hand begins to journey to her hidden womanhood…

Which her one hand encompassing his so suddenly he failed to notice until the firm pressure threatened to snap his wrist…telling him in emphatic terms she will allow him to go so far, and for now no further; he looks into the amethyst eyes of her, nods and bows his head in acceptance of her choice…

“My lady I understand fully; maybe someday there can be a union such as that between us, yet the memory of your Grandfather is still too fresh. Thank you though for allowing me to bring some satisfaction to the both of us tonight,” the Associate said.

She shakes her head, eyes rolling up to the heavens as he once again fails to understand.

Planting a fiery kiss on his lips she swings her arms around his neck, and then leaps up, enwrapping her legs about his waist and locking them and her firmly in place. His hands move quickly to support her bottom, as he shakes his head, understanding at last.

She did not want him to pleasure her, she wants more than that…With one hand he fumbles for the belt of his britches, loosening it enough to let his fully at attention manhood loose to the world; drawing a bit of a blush from him due to the small size of it.

“And you wondered why you missed it so many times with those knives you threw?” he casually joked.

Their kisses merged as he eased into her womanhood, the two of them entering into a gentle rhythm of love between their bodies, one for the other and back in turn. Within moments his excitement passes his limit and sends his seed deep into her body.

“My lady I should have lasted longer, I just have not been with a woman for so long…” he stammered.

She just kissed him on the lips as her eyes showed her admiration for him.


Returning to her feet, the two of them quietly danced a silent dance in the rooms soft light for some time, a moment shared before returning to the end game of this long and trying hunt.


For this all too brief moment of time, they, two assassins who seek to overthrow so much, can be with each other and allow their guard to relax a bit...


With the coming of the dawn though; the gambit resumes...

[snowleopard3200]

Bounce.

[ELaken-Palmer]

A truly hot, loving break in the action for these two. I loved the sweet, salty smells that are HER and thought I could sense her presence myself. You have created a woman that a man would really enjoy maning sweet love with.