Just outside the Ithiel Town of providence, four figures close upon their target - an old, battered household that is battered by the raging storm that conceals their movements. Biting winds drive the fierce, chilling rainfall almost horizontal, blocking all spoken communication between the four until they reach a little sheltering grove of woods.

The leader of the four, Finneous, motions instruction manual to his companion in the silent sign language used by the assassin Guild ; though they already know their finish, no mistakes will be tolerated this dark, the contract must be fulfilled…no survivors and no evidence is to be left behind.

On that the grandad of Assassins, the true ruler of the guild and of Providence is clear.

Silent as death, they move between shadows illuminated second by moment as lightning dances across the sky. Here one darts to a tree, then to lay behind a small shrub ; there one elan between flashes to the shelter of a low paries surrounding the house.

All too easy, everything has been prepared to perfection for such an easy kill.

Even the metropolis Constables, the law enforcement factor of Providence - of course all are under guild ascendance - arrange to be ‘ elsewhere'at this hour. The architectural plan of the sign of the zodiac, down to the little point, were secured by yet another band of guild agents, allowing for preciseness planning…

All too easy, nothing can possibly go wrong.

Finneous though will adopt no chances, for dull luck has on More than one juncture interrupted his plans. He gives a one C counting, making sure no movement occurs…

Seeing, sensing and hearing zip he motions with one manus to his fellow traveller. Of the three, Cinnius heads to deal the book binding door with his little crossbow, Gordon and Gerald move to the position entrance of the pantry and kitchen.

Between flashes of lightning and echoing roars of thunder they go ; undetected, they reach the firm of the banker betrayed by his partners. Gustavus Franklin Swift and efficient they enter, and in less than five minutes the whole function is utter, leaving the family absolutely and the house aflame from front to second. No survivor, that is what they had been charged to do, and thus they have achieved.

An gentle night of study ; pass an total family, torch the menage to cover the crime.

Save for one potential complication - one Lester Willis Young daughter, the middle member of the children, was not at the family. All four of them agree to say nothing to a greater extent, knowing the uttermost destruction waiting for them if the granddaddy of the club uncovering out.

Besides what trouble could one stripling of a fille alone in the humans honestly cause them…

**************************
The gentleman known as Shan Tiel to everyone in the expanse watched the fires as they consumed the planetary house ; from the shadows he had seen the four assassins enter and exit with surpassing skills. Not one of the four had seen gramps when he approached within four invertebrate foot of their path coming and going.

"Amateurs,"he declared softly, disdain for these so-called ‘ professional'of the West.

If not for the charge he has been entrusted with by the now deceased banker, he would have finished this stripe of idiots just for the rice beer of realism. They give a bad name to what it means to be a reliable assassin.

He could just envision how the engagement would take shoes, brief and absolute in its finality…

Emerging from the masking he would charter the last in crease with a quick, straight edged hired man chopper to the throat, instantly crushing it and sending him into a gurgling death…

Twin, envenomed knives would take the heart two in their hearts ; the quivering spasms of death wracking the expressions of jar and horror on their faces…

Their drawing card in social movement, the one he knows as Finneous from retiring transaction, would fall in a personal matter…his iron shod faculty smashing os and crushing electronic organ in close up battle ; or if the coward flees then he would broadcast the throwing stars into his back up - each one with the same deadly venom as his tongue hold…

Tonight he can not give in to the desires…

Giving a quiet two hundred reckoning while still concealed by his tiger striped cloak, bits of foliage aiding in the disguise of him being a component of the tree and shrubs, he listens with ears keener than many. He moves nary a bit, even as biting insects crawl over him.

He knows when dealing with blighter hunters like the assassins, there is only room for one misunderstanding ; of trend being from the Far eastward, HE is the true hunter in this game.

He slowly eases into a half hunker, then to a full position as he looks about, listening, sniffing the air, all to make certain the quartet of bravo have indeed passed beyond the area.

In his sheltering weapons system is the trivial little girl, the one with the amethyst eyes and muted voice. Her terror filled death hug lets him have intercourse just how scare off she truly is, though still Whitney Moore Young Jr. and pocket-size for her age, he will make for sure that no damage comes to her…

No matter what he will make surely no scathe comes to her ; her Father-God desperate plea with him, to pick one out of the twelve minor to be saved raked his marrow raw, having given the warning of the coming hit by the guild. So it was he swept her up, out the threshold and into hiding here just ahead of the assassins.

So there was nothing he could do, to prevent the slaughter of his son and grandchildren.

He could save only one, yet there will be justice delivered, if not by him then by another.

He keeps his firm bag on the little girl who hugs him in a terror filled death hug ; her eyes filled with amethyst fires. When her father had come to meet him, only the missy was with him ; then the father had rushed back to keep open his crime syndicate, too latterly to do little more than die with them.

"You need a new gens now,"he told her in the musical accent of the Far Eastern lands,"what do you wish to be known as my granddaughter ?"

Very slowly the little girl extended her coat clad arm, gloved fingers tracing a serial of relocation into his hand. Indeed, mute that she may be, the ease of her ability with the sign language of his family's professing - bloke assassins like himself - demonstrating the intelligence that lies behind those marvellous eyes.

He nodded commendation.

"So be it, so you shall be called my granddaughter ; understand this much though, for now, you must remain silent with your new public figure and bury the old. To the rest of the human beings, you are only known as granddaughter, one of many orphans I have raised over the years,"he said.

"Due to your eyes few must sleep with of your existence ; so life will not be slow for you, yet there is something I will learn you to do,"he said with a find out spirit on his face.

He calculated the time that passed since the quartet of assassin left ; then figured the observers for the social club of assassins will be along shortly - to make sure the declaration was carried out in its entirety.

"We must go now. I will teach you from today to turn a huntsman of your own. You will not bring terror to the innocent ; instead you will track down the huntsman and their agents ; to learn those who use holy terror what it means to be matter of terror in turn. ``

So it is the two depart into the Hill, far from the metropolis to the topographic point they call home.

Neither of them look back at the old aliveness, the end of a category for her.

Yet the two of them, the old man and the Loretta Young girl with the amethyst eyes know the books will be balanced in time.

The assassins consider their William Holman Hunt completed, just one of one C the quartet has carried out to success.

They have made their one mistake.



***********
***********
grandpa just smiled with joy as he looked upon her, lying next to him on her stomach on their bed ; his fingers moved with soft, feather gentleness across her bared tegument. He began with her one bared cheek, her head turned his way and those rattling heart dancing with such humor, life and fuck for him.

Moving in a tedious helix outward from the center, he soon reached her lips and playfully caressed them across the top and then the derriere, exploring each dowery of them in turn. The spirit of her affectionate breathing place upon his fingers brought a tingling delight to his idea, his old body still up to the entertaining of a young lady, one who is no longer a daughter - she reached her majority a week ago, and asked for this Nox as her gift from him.

He slips his finger into her mouth, caressing the interior of her sassing and stroking against her teeth, taking delight in the growing blush upon her cheek. Moving back to her upper lip, he continues his fingertip exploration, up to her nose and around each of her eyes - especially along her eyebrow, bringing a soft frisson to her body as her center gently close for the moment.

His fingers begin to knead around her hilltop and then back along her exposed ear, drawing forth a grin on her ruby red sass as a mental object footling sigh escapes past them. She draws her script up under the pillow her head is resting upon, while her bared skin shines with the moonlight flowing in from the twin sliding doors that are open to the extraneous world.

Her one arm flicker for just a moment, the manus setting more secure under the pillow.

grandpa moves along the backrest of her head with his fingers, caressing and massaging her cervix along the sides and back, cupping them along the front so all of his hired man is on her pelt. He then begins in soft, circling and kneading movement ; she gives another soft sigh of contentment, her shoulders sagging ever so slightly as she begins to loose Thomas More and more.

His eyes look up as he picks up the swooning of movement through the floorboard, a trembling and a soft sound so elusive most would presume a computer mouse had scampered across the room.

Running his hand down along both side of her vertebral column, he uses the other hand to support his leaning form ; this move also brings him closer to one of his hidden throwing knives - envenomed of course - to deal with any unseen attacker…

The Whitney Moore Young Jr. lady turns her head away from him, muscles on her back twitching in pleasure from his caressing touch. Once more there is a voiced sigh that escapes her lips.

Bending down he places his lips on her tegument, kissing inch by salty tasting column inch from mid shoulder joint to the turn down back ; all the while his centre sentry for the adjacent vestige to move, ears listening for the next auditory sensation to be made as the unknown intruder approaches.

His digit flow to the side of her abdominal cavity, drawing a constant, squirming, squiggling apparent motion from her.

A faint sound comes forth through the wall, telling him the exact placement of the intruder.

It also provides the information to another as well…

Faster than a snake's strike her arm shoots out, manus releasing the slender knife into the throw.

The crisp, cracking rejoinder of the blade biting through the wood is heard by both of them.

burial itself to the blades hilt, she sees that her aim has been true. She then resumes her comfortable position on the feathered matting, hands back under the pillow, waiting for gramps to continue his ministrations.


======
The intruder, the man of mystery from the Far East simply known as the associate degree - and designated help for the one with the amethyst eyes, calmly stands in his plaza, one leg in half stride, animal foot prepared to pace across the paries systema skeletale to another small-scale joint projecting slightly outward.

Such a motility on this outer wall, along the bodily structure fourth flooring and some three hundred feet over a cliff to the jagged rocks below would be baby's play.

He wanted to see the gift being given by grandad to the young lady.

He has to commemorate, as of today he is HER fellow, despite her name being forbidden to him, as he has denied his own name until the stain on his and the family laurels has been expunged. Normally he would go alone to have his retaliation, yet Grandfather - to whom his syndicate owes an old debt - has him working with her.

He had regarded her as nothing more than a toy for the old man ; even as fast witted and concise as the program she has developed for their job in Providence…

He gently jive his trunk around 180 degrees, pivoting on the toes of his other foot, then begins the climb back the way he came ; he will never underestimate her again.

His gaze is drawn back to the point of a blade extending a finger length through the woods ; the gleaming poison on its shiny Earth's surface clear to his direct eyes…and the fact her aim was such that she missed his manhood by a hairs breadth.

Deliberately missed that is, the sharpened boundary facing up towards his body.

No more curiosity for him, he will now focus solely on the mission, and the Justice long denied to him for the crime committed by the guilds Grandfather of Assassins.

The fortune he has planned for that one will be most enjoyable indeed.


======
Grandfather just chuckled as she rolled onto her back, those lustrous amethyst eyes alive with humor ; his delight in her actions is obvious as she holds her arms out for him, the invitation loud and clear in their unspoken dance of love.

Easing his robe off, he carefully lies across her torso, supporting the bulk of his weight upon his slender, old and iron strong branch while she contribution her legs, sliding them gently around his pelvic girdle, and begins to travel them in caressing movements along his own.

He begins to kiss her lips, which she returns with flaming saturation, the glow of her brass deepening with each passing moment. Kiss after gentle, pecking kiss embraces her cheeks and then along the jaw to her mentum, her smile concealing a barely visible gulp while one hand moves to stroke her cervix ; generating a low chill and twitch of her soundbox, a soundless giggle parting her back talk while arms and legs writhe in joyous, mad bliss.

One small tickle follows a second, then three more, resulting in cracking and large gyrations from she with the amethyst eye. Tears of joy welled in those eyes, flowing down cheeks to the waiting oral cavity of grandfather who pressed his back talk gently on each drop - his grinning shows to her how he savors each salty one.

For her, she absolutely loves the swirling scents of grandfather while he is so finale ; often she has been next to him in slumber, but never in such a manner as this…the thought of what is to come up so soon filled her with a bit of dread and expectation of enraptured bliss…the terminal mystery of mysteries to be explored.

Her oculus closed as his handwriting cuffed the back of her neck, supporting it with great strong point and gentle, warming touch ; the minor vibrating motion of each finger's breadth brawn told of his branding iron control of the body, massaging and finding each sensuous nerve in the area, bringing an unexpected surge of euphoric heat from bass within and down below, where she feels the beginnings of a wetness build…

Then he shifted his hand away, teasing her with a conciliate tickle…

One fingertip of his free hand began to explore, resting at first upon the really base of her ribs, to flux upward in a narrow, focused, undulating trail that sent a profusion of feelings surging into all component part of her mind.

Sharp and sweet, cocotte and tangy, dull and dense ; words without strain for feelings that can not be described but only imagined in a harmony like a serial publication of watercourse forging into a right river as all union together. One sharp intake of hint bringing a heavenly profusion of scent - the tarriance steam and droplets of water from the bathing way nearby ; the slim trace of old cologne and musk, of earthly rich men smells, and forest ling of women who have been here in the rooms many centuries of existence.

The fingertip became a flattened decoration, easing along the edge of her breast, slowly tracing the edge while swirling in small, entitle band. One circuit became two, then four, and moved to the former white meat to do the Lapplander. Twice more this looping symbolic representation of eternity proceeded ; the hand caressed and massaged more and more than area of each breasts.

She heard and felt her breath quickening, her head making a small circle as electrical boot of pure bliss tingled their way up in her body ; each one in turn unleashed a pleasant surge of Energy Department, invigorating and easing, the raw voltage of life-time made reality. diagonal by gentle stroke the space formula flowed, kneading and shaping her boob until they crossed the rear mammilla ; that first gracing inter-group communication sent a coursing pulsation of passion along all the way of her body, surging and rebounding until it returned a c fold in saturation that almost became overwhelming.

Her back arched as shoulders thrust back ; both workforce quickly clenching the cover of the bed they shared, all but pulling it in due to the sheer blissfulness dominating her body ; sinew twitched and squirmed, nerves firing in delight and demanding they be touched to fall in her even more pleasure than she has ever experienced to this point in her life.

Unto its journey the hand continued, seeking out with almost dire hurriedness the other nipple ; its trail a cleared path illuminated by fires of bliss as it moved along my pelt. Pulse after beating pulse surged in this journeying to run outward as the ripples on a pond, yet with the military group of a cascade among a mighty river.

Just short of middleman her body could assume no more than, pushed to the edge faster than even grandfather had figured as her dead body moved in shake, euphoric question ; one silent cry of primal warmth after another expressed on her parted brim until her climax hit, being released in one moment of extreme promised land bliss.

She signed him not to stop, to finish up her call for endowment for the nighttime, while she still was prepare. Nothing was to interpose from here on out…nothing if she could aid it at all.

Her hired hand slide along his rear, teasing and caressing, until they meet with the fingers entwining to hold him securely in space. She closes her eyes, neck arching slightly in response to the osculation he now places along it, while a series of balmy suspiration escape her backtalk that afford and close in silent claim of building lust.

When he enters into her muliebrity, she grabs him tight as a surge of pain head from the sundering of her virginity ; no matter how gentle he can be ; she feels like a blade has entered her gut, delivering botheration for a moment like none before in her life.

Her side scrimped in pain as he continued to press inward…

He had warned her it would come up, and crack just as quickly.

From his gentle and firm legal action, movement after motility, she begins to feel a fiery bliss flow up her body like a river of molten metal ; the heat and intensity level redoubling with each in it passes unto her psyche. Her breath quickens as she lays there, ears listening to the gentle, steadfast ventilation of Grandfather.

She kisses him on the neck, a sloppily wet one followed by a second and a third.

All too soon the wonderment of this time of delight comes to an end, as he reaches the demarcation line of his body's endurance and restraint, sending his spirit seed deep into her body.

"I'm sorry it did not shoemaker's last as long, or would be as enjoyable as it should have been Granddaughter ; the first metre for any man or woman is the most embarrassing, until the whodunit is passed and the world widens for them both,"he explained to her.

She bent forward enough ; her flexibility would excite sheer envy from any contortionist, and looked with a bit of wonder on the traces of his seed coming out of her woman.

Her mitt came up to his impertinence, gently caressing it in thanks and with love.

His hand encompassed hers, allowing him to take delight in the unfitness of her peel, the slight perspiration on the surface.

"So you and your Associate leave-taking for Providence soon ?"he asked.

In their shared, soundless sign language she explains that they depart in two weeks.

She looks upon the one who she loves so much with admiration, hoping to percentage so many more such second as this night before the Richard Morris Hunt begins.

For the finish ten eld he has raised her, teaching her oral communication and writing, the art of alchemy belonging to the assassinator of the Far East. The way of the brand and the bow, the throwing maven and dagger ; many weapon system for all place she may encounter…and so much more.

The greatest weapon she has, as he once challenged her to pretend, is her mind.

Yet he taught her so much to a greater extent than to be a ‘ living weapon ;'she loves to dance with him under the stars, to fish and hunt down, to play chess, and so much more.

In curtly, he taught her how to endure and savor life story day by day.

Two short weeks before she heads to Providence ; two calendar week she intends to savour to the good with her new lover, making love as much as he will permit.

Contently she rolls onto her side and slowly impulsion off to slumber while he serenades her.

She dreams of their time together in the two weeks to come ; now that she has become a woman, she will do to a greater extent than just pleasure his manhood with her sassing and glossa, all he would let her do for some metre now. They will make love from dawn to dusk and into the many nights they have left.

Her dream recall those sentence, from the first off taste of grandad manhood on her lips, his semen spilling into her mouthpiece and his apology when she choked ; to the way he explained what to do…

Yes indeed, their remaining time together will be wonderful.

When she awakens with the coming of sunrise, she learns that ambition is eternally shattered.


======
Her Associate stands silently off to the side of the diminished shrine where granddad ash have been laid to rest, the two sawbuck he holds, their climb, remain understood as if paying respect to the old man as well as she with the amethyst eyes.

He just shakes his head, amazed that the one he is to work with shows such a range of mountains of emotions ; he made the promise to never underrate her again, yet the sheer showing of skill in her architectural plan - and the contingence for event and opportunity that may arise, is the oeuvre of a true master.

Only the slightest glimmer of a tear shows as it flows down her cheek ; the only helplessness he has seen in her during the metre they have come to cognise one another.

Crazy as it sounds, he wonders if there is a luck for them ; once the hunt club is done, to consume a human relationship with each other…

Let the future seminal fluid as it does, right now early matters need to be focused upon…such as the pets he needs to purchase once in town ; secure their shelter and make surely they are sufficiently athirst for when the time comes to have got his revenge…

He can almost condole with the fate in depot for the gramps of Assassins…almost.

"I just hope he screams forte and long when he meets his lot,"he says to himself.


*******************
*******************
In the depths of a vacant shop, one long boarded up, shelves thick with junk and cobwebs the only speech sound to be heard is the trench, rasping, moaning gasps of an former man. Dressed in a well tailored case, most would assume him to be a servant for one of the rich merchants of providence ; yet if they knew his truthful position, they would run off screaming…to an former, botheration filled Death as they were hunted down and slaughtered before their kin, who would then stand the same fate.

He is the butler and good manus man of maestro Gordon of the lodge of assassin, not to mention being a pestilent killer in his own right.

His work force grip the workshop dusty replication that pushes into his back as he fights to remain upright ; waves of giddy, pulsating, undulating heat and electrical like wiz of pleasure flow into his head ; too many years have passed since he has felt this way, and now to have such a lady as this takings such interest in him, for such a fairly flashy cost as well…

One of the fabled Sisters of the bluing, a small gathering of paramour renowned for their mastery of the erotic and tantric arts, showing involvement in HIM ! ! !

Truly the caption of their power are justified, and then some.

One raspy breath after another passes his lip, breast heaving in and out like a holloa, one chill after another causes his body to flex and flow about, as he feels like his brain is now turning to slush around before a furnace, about to flow away completely in a cloud of steam.

Gently, gracefully and teasingly the Sister's lips play along the length of his manhood ; pausing to kiss and swirl around the sensible base of its head teacher. With a whirlwind of pocket-size, precise strokes of her tongue she induces wave after soaring, roaring, cascading wave into his body along the narrow ravines of his spooky system ; one wave upon the other ; building into a tsunami of military group and libidinous fervidness, threatening to crash his mind ; with oblivion coming then and there from excitement matching that of a state of nature stallion proclaiming victory for say-so of a ruck of mares.

For the showtime sentence in years he feels so give up and TRULY ALIVE ! ! !

Where such a charwoman as this could be trained in such matter ?

He has to recover out ?

Grunt after grunt echoes around the empty workshop, his fists commence to pound upon the counter as he strains to hold back the growing force per unit area upon his manhood. He understands that for so long he has been an kine, who by choice and labor in the mansion of his knob, been effectively bound and castrated from enjoying such fine animal pleasures as this…

Oh the heady perfume she wears, soft and gentle yet being hard as iron and unyielding as the deep stones in the earth ; elusive as a ghost while being here and now as a moment of time that is eternal.

She eases one handwriting upward, gently teasing and tickling his counterpart set of chestnuts just below his manhood, while being unaware of the small surprise lying just within her fingernails edges. If this man dares to draw the hidden set of blade or the fine wire garrote up his lead arm, then the poison will defeat him within seconds, thus forcing a lowly variety in her plans for the cheeseparing future.

His laughter grows from a minuscule series of chuckles to wild, manic, hysterically insane strait carrying loud and recollective outside the store ; though no one in the expanse dares to pay attention - ignore such strait that may mean order business sector is going on and you stay alive for today…maybe…

He feels like his oculus have crossed over into the antonym sockets, his strength being drawn out of him by the invariable, hotness flowing, headiness of her actions. Oh if he only could get his wife or the other lady friend and schoolmarm he has - each convinced they are ‘ his genuine lovemaking'– to do thus to him, as well as or better than she.

For the second time he counts his blest fortunes at having a babe of the amobarbital sodium come to HIM for so low of a price ; one simple changeover and future meeting such as this will become ever promiscuous to arrange.

Blackmail can be so fun of a game sometimes ; especially if she desires to remain in one piece, not to mention alive for some fourth dimension to come.

He wonders for a bit how much he can charge his associates for them having their intimacy with her ; and not run a risk being sold out to Master Gordon or the gramps of Assassins

Yes, such a low price to pay for gaining leverage over this one, as any true assassin would do…

Of course of action his master may not see it that way, yet what he does not be intimate will not do him to mow down the butler in the most poisonous of substance possible…if he was lucky, being flayed of all skin, doused in vinegar and then covered in tall mallow to be fed to rabid informer would be a true blessing.

But that will not come about, his headmaster may be a herculean figure in the club, yet HE, the Samuel Butler, controls the day to day events at skipper Gordon's estate - no one will know, just as he has smuggled and embezzled millions of atomic number 79 coins, gems and artwork over the old age, others paying the damage for his actions…

He easily could bear afforded one of the babe at their normal, horrific fees of ten or more yr's reward for a normal worker, just for one hour of ‘ amusement'by them. Some people have become so indebted to them, that they in turn become servants of the Sister, forever.

The two things that give the sis such big businessman aside from their mastery of the intimate artistry, is the sheer beauty of each one - plus the sheer sapphire Amytal optic they have ( hence the ‘ blue angel'in their title ) ; AND the fact that each one is mute from birth, thus all secrets told in their presence can be kept safe from revelation.

Those who control the baby make sure they never learn to communicate in any means, reading, writing, or such save by a circumscribe sign language centered on the intimate art. Though they are free in how to pleasure and delight their clientele, they shall never be free of the mightily influence and ascendance of the order that dominates their stallion lives.

closed book and boasts secure with the babe ; so be it.

The Butler spends some time explaining to her as she gently strokes his manhood, rapt tending paid to him as he tells story after chronicle about the guild and their wave of affright and murder used for dominance ; her smile shows the exhilaration brewing deep in her body, seeing him as a friend of friend against those who dare to oppose the way things are - the social club of Assassins rules, cypher else can replace it.

Or so he assumes.

Gently she teases the very tip of his humanity with the tip of a fingernail, drawing him to the bound of madness and back again and again ; her smile of wonderful bliss combined with rapt attention to the pigs invariant stream of fictive heroics masks the utmost scorn she feels to him…

And wonder if it would not be better to simply scratch a bit too hard, jump off back and watch as the poisonous substance goes into effect…no not yet ; the sentence for such petty subject is not at hand.

Her helping hand take hold of his manhood and set out to stroke it, fast-slow-fast-faster-slower, the speed changing enough to build him up, back down some and then build up again.

His rasping breathing space continues to deepen, eyes crossing as he nears his peak.

She slides his manhood back between those moist, soft, commanding lips and continues onward, until with a half-grunted shout he hits his release spilling his life seed into her mouth.

His boom of triumph is matched by the sudden, unexpected gust he delivers to the incline of her head, sending her sprawling to the floor.

"Just a reminder of who you are dealing with ma'am, the first hint of betrayal at all…"he finished with a motion of his manus across his throat, ardour alight in his eyes.

She resumes her position on her articulatio genus, pretending nothing has happened at all.

As per their deal, she opens her mouth to read his total animation seed is there, and then swallows it down.

She smiles at him, happy to receive given him such pleasure ; while on the inside she steams at having to put up with such a brute of an animal, castration would be too full for him…give him over to a band of wild charwoman, wielding knife and they will let him as the main course at a banquet…

Only the fact that the reward for dealing with him keeps her peevishness in curb ; despite that she will be spewing her guts out for the next couple of hours when she gets home, the overall profit are Worth it.

Revenge will do soon enough.

With a smile wider than he has displayed in year he carefully hands over a trio of half-bloomed rosebush wrapped in paper.

"My dear Sister in blue air, the next meter you wish to accept more pink wine, let me know. I will gladly bring them to you for an ‘ exchange of services'such as you provided tonight,"the pantryman stated.

"Just think,"he angrily said, suddenly grabbing her by the throat with adequate power to pass on contusion upon her skin.

"The first time I feel you have betrayed me in the to the lowest degree, your death will be most enjoyable for me,"he stated.

Both of them depart the vacant shop, one of many attribute the butler's employer owns, and thus he has keys to for such ‘ clientele matters.'

The Samuel Butler heads off now on other subject ; specifically the proprietor of the new flower shop, the fille known as ‘ Clairice,'the one who is protagonist with the lunatic that makes the appliance for the guild.

She has expressed interestingness in the fresh roses Master Gordon has been developing, ones like the three he has given to the Sister in wild blue yonder. Yes, he shall crap his demand known soon enough, and may have another one to add to his mistresses - or he may just pop her outright, depending on his particular whim of the moment.

Yes animation is honest and Master Gordon will never get it on of the missing flowers being by his own hands.

The game he is playing with the rosebush has interminable possibilities…

If he understood the office he unknowingly plays in the"babe"game ; the affright would cause his heart to intercept on the spot.



*******************
*******************
Finneous just strolled along on the chief fair-through of capital of Rhode Island, taking in his ever expanding empire of building and shop he secretly owns. His wealth over the hold up ten geezerhood has grown exponentially, all of it due to his cut of the fees paid to get rid of one banker and his family.

Indeed, ten eld is a long time, now he had mogul, social status and riches known only to a few ; those who contribution fashion to let him overstep, his membership clear by the finest of dark suits encompassing his iron-trimmed brawny human body. For the suicidal who may challenge him, the small crossbow bounce at his hip - always loaded with a envenom thunderbolt - is prepare.

None dare to dispute him, for he is one of the master copy of the gild of bravo ; one of the finest and of the deadliest, only rivaled by Gordon, Gerald and Cinnius his old associates…and of form the Grandfather of Assassins and his ever shifting secret plan within plots…

…no that one he will never challenge, preferring the lavishness of life to the finality of death after horrific amounts of torture…

The thought of the last execution he had seen, a man covered in molten cheese and lowered head first into a pit filled with thirsty, rabid rats…even for one as hardened as he ; the screams gave him incubus for calendar week afterwards…as the Grandfather of Assassins intended, a warning as well as punishment…

Yes here in his domain he is safe, based on his ability to control others by their fears - of decease, infliction, and of punishment or fierce attainment in blade, knife and a hundred early weapons. By controlling their fears, he has control of all those around him.

He forgot one pattern though, ancient and absolute : What happens when one who does not revere is a hunter as well ?

"Oh it feels so salutary to be a king within my own lilliputian domain here in the city…"he chuckles to himself. Yes it is expert to be king over a lowly portion of the world.


======
Two solidifying of eyes watch as Finneous capitulum down the street, following the same pattern each day. Saami time, road, apparent motion, and such…predictable, and thus vulnerable ; in becoming predictable, he has become so very vulnerable…

Without anyone else noticing the two have a quick conversation, using the silent spoken language of deal motion ; if all goes well, they will call for to motivate quick.


======
Two subdued, ennoble middle watch as the bravo question down the street ; day after day he follows the same set route, no deviation and secure in his own personal arena. Indeed in this region of Providence he is a top executive, and true to vogue, the viewer here has a gift for him.

They play this Lapp game each day just as he passes the doorstop leading into her home ; she hopes the natural endowment will be especially pleasing to him today. Already a valet had purchased one of her half-blooming blush wine for his lady friend. Old men can be such romantic she figures, and the girlfriend must be so fortunate to possess him as her friend.


======
Finneous passes by one of the few privately owned shop class in the area, the lowly stone edifice is home to a new florist, who also deals in betting odds and ends she trades for from former merchant. Such is the budding reputation of her work that many people of influence and power, not to name members of the guild, visit to buy her creations.

Her only known comrade is that old and completely insane toymaker Darius ; his ace for making gismo and mechanical gismo is just as legendary, as he has the gold opportunity to behold low hand.

Darius shows the girl…lets see, what her name…Clairice is, yes Clairice, which is her name…a small, egg-sized globe in one of his script that slowly move and shifts. Gradually it becomes a mechanical canary that starts to blab.

So dulcet and true is the song that many real canary in nearby tree diagram join in the Sung.

She silently claps her hands, her voice long muted by a deplorable cut she took to the throat - he has seen the scar personally under the scarf that covers it constantly.

head over, he gives a soft cough to seduce his presence known, and indicates the mechanical razzing with one hand. He offers a ridiculously low sum for the creature ; Darius bristles until the female child locks him in topographic point with a truly stern gaze, thus saving the assassin the pauperization to kill him for a minor insult.

Clairice agrees on the Leontyne Price, obviously not wanting to chance offending the assassin.

When he gives her the coins for the purchase she bows to rationalise herself then goes back into the shop. Darius just shrugs his shoulders and heads off on whatever business his madness holds, his deep blue robe covered in weird mathematic symbols flowing about him in the breeze.

As the assassin heads down the street he knows he is being watched ; his expression feigns pastime in his raw toy while actually keeping track of each individual moving about him. Soon enough he discerns the one who he has been waiting for - on time and for once holding something of great interest to him.


======
The two who watch the progress of Finneous up the street have another flying conversation in the silent hand terminology ; the second of the two stem slightly, then proceeds to deliver his ‘ gift,'knowing that there will be slight fourth dimension as things come to a head.

The first continues to watch Finneous, seeing him feign interest in the mechanical shuttlecock, and the truthful interest he shows in the ‘ plot of ambuscade'both play each day ; not to advert the special ‘ giving'that goes to him today as well…these assassins, such amateurs…



======
As on each day, the ‘ ambush'occurs right on clip, the niggling missy with the subdued centre steps out in figurehead of him with her branch filled with flowers."well sir, would you like a efflorescence today ?"

"Of grade Jesmine,"he selects a beautiful rose that is in half-bloom.

"Now then, you be sure to get hold of this money directly to your father."

He counts out a handful of silver-coins, many times what all of her efflorescence are deserving. This is his means of paying his own broker, and helps to keep them in line with the unvoiced message of veneration - betray him and not only will the agent die, so will all their family and kinfolk.

As Jesmine runs off to give the funds to her father Finneous hears a ruckus down the street…

Much to his entertainment he sees the old toymaker Darius arguing with a pair of trees. He seems to be trying to get them to buy a mechanically skillful gimmick that will gather water for them. A clear lesson in the okay art of insanity ; madman he may be, the guy can cause wonderful toys.

His mistress will absolutely make love this mechanically skillful bird.

A second glance at Darius shows he is trying to dance with the trees, and doing so badly. When a bunch of leaves fall over his head, he begins to contend about some ‘ rebuff of honor from the timberland of the world'and then challenges each tree diagram to a affaire d'honneur of honor…a true madcap indeed.

Yes this is a truly beautiful day.

The prime smells so terrific ; the rose is sweeter than any other he has found before, and figures it must fall from one of the big estates his friends have nearby. Probably Gordon and that new line of blush wine he has worked ten geezerhood on.

"I will have to find out."

Too bad he never got a prospect to come up out.


======
The gathered gang constituent for the feeler of the Constables ; no one has come to the aid of the fallen man, and the patrol of the Constables blanches when they see whom it is. Doubled over is the assassin, his crossbow still loaded and at the ready next to his hip ; the mechanical hoot lying atop the one-half bloomed flower, singing away as it was designed to do.

"Go and get the tariff skipper,"shouted the patrol serjeant-at-law to his aide,"tell him what we have here at once, the rest of you secure the area, five paces out and no one touches anything ; when the grandfather of bravo finds out about this we may have John R. Major problems."

olibanum has passed Finneous, master assassin, fearless Riley B King of his own domain who made only one mistake ; he became predictable ; thus he became vulnerable ; and thus dead.

All hail the king for he is now dead.

One has fallen, three Thomas More left.


*********************
*********************
The metropolis police force-out - the Constables have searched everywhere for Jesmine and her kinfolk. Everything in their house is inviolate, no signal of kerfuffle, fuss, foul bid or anything. They have just up and completely vanished. Their death prepared meal, still cooling down from preparation, remains uneaten on the table plus an expensive wine-coloured bottleful chilling in a bucket of ice…

There were only two curio to be found - a half-bloomed rose on the table, and a package of papers hidden away in a hollowed out book.

well-nigh of these were of business transactions for the family unit ; one was very, very odd…

Make sure that Finneous has entree to these flush during his morning walking, one is to be sent to his schoolmarm as well ; remember I will endure no more than mistakes. If per chance he does ask where they are from, separate him directly they come from my estate gardens, in honor of our ten year of mutual silence - Gordon.

Quickly this note made its way into the bridge player of the bravo social club ; the leader waiting to see what their undecomposed quizzer could find, which for the well-nigh component appears to be nothing…until by the backlighting of a lantern a serial publication of smaller, invisible writing emerges from the slim heat of the parchment.

A special, hidden code known only to a smattering of the club - used for those who need to take flight the urban center instantly, and with finish safety…

condom family prepared, flee when Finneous given flowers, no vacillation, follow way to the missive on pain of Death for everyone - Gordon

"stave up everyone who may be remotely connected to this matter, and reverse them over to the Constables for the enquiry. Make sure they are reminded to stay tranquillity, no inquiry, no mention of guild line at all under hurting of expiry,"ordered the Grandfather of Assassins.

turning to the leader of his personal bodyguard detail he gives one explicit order,"Find the ones who run this electronic network of ours, who have betrayed us…no it may not be Master Gordon, a powerfulness swordplay seems to be brewing, and so those traitors have only one last task to perform…food for my collection of tigers in the dungeons…and make for sure they die slowly…I want to pick up their screams."

nearly likely this is a power gambol, a serial publication of eliminations of contender and senior range members to open the way for lower ranks to be promoted - that is the way of the social club, to advance you dispose of those above you or die in the process.

The granddad decides a little talk of the town with Master Gordon could not smart. Just to make indisputable he is aware that if he is seeking to unseat him, it will come to a bad ending for Gordon. And if he is not plotting against granddad, then it will alert him another is plotting against Gordon himself…possibly…

Among the assassins there is one rule - you have no supporter ; never. friendly relationship implies weaknesses to be exploited and thus leaves you vulnerable ; and with the assassins, vulnerable almost always means you wind up dead.

There is no combine, no laurels to be found among the penis of the gild ; with assassins there is grudging esteem for their superordinate mixed with ambition to succeed them after a well placed shock that finishes them, if possible.

Indeed, pass on them the respect they are due for the danger they present, eliminate them when the clock time comes.

Upon receiving the summons from the Grandfather of assassin ; Master Gordon starts to throw off in mortal panic, wondering what was going on…Finneous is dead, a missive he supposedly wrote according to the messenger after a Nice bribe, plus the first susurration on the street of people inquiring to a greater extent and more about his household and habits in life…looking to see where he has become predictable, and thus vulnerable…Gerald ? Cinnius ? Another who plots…his butler ?

Plots within plot of ground, move and counter move ; that is the lot of anyone who is a appendage of the Guild…HIS life story, the accumulation of power and control until eliminated by a equal from below…or possibly from above…

Maybe the gramps of Assassins fears HIM…

Despite assassins not having friends, they always have two familiar salute - paranoia, and fear.


*******************
*******************
Clairice had to admit, being interrogated by the Constables was different than her initial first moment ; by far it is different.

Here she is, laying back on a couch, those soft doe like eyes closed, capitulum turned to one side as her lips silently unfastened and closelipped from waves of lightning like pleasure surging with power and force up her consistency, to doss down with thunderous retorts in her mind.

Those blue helping hand grip the back and side of the couch with vice like intensity, fighting to apply off the force of each shudder, arching of her dorsum and wiggling of her pelvic girdle from the tending being given to a particular piece of her body…

Just the persuasion of it, not to note what is going on causes her already deep flush on impertinence, brownish and nose to deepen further ; so intense is it that anyone watching would feel waves of heat and desire shimmering off of her skin in Wave, threatening to consume all who dare to venture near.

One massive shudder of her body, her hips instinctively thrusting upward as if by their own will, causes her to cover her face in sheer embarrassment ; any intellection of reserve have flown long ago as a bird flying with the wind.

As if she had any real alternative but to submit to the interrogative anyhow…

The one who is conducting this alone expressive style of ‘ interrogative sentence'is the chieftain detective Kimberly, who takes her time to ‘ investigate'and ‘ examine'each constituent of Clairice's fair sex. Each and every inch, fold and hidden profoundness she kisses, licks, or plays with via her finger's breadth ; time after time she manages to bring Clairice to the very sharpness of climax, threatening to drive her over the edge only to work her down and then back to the edge.

Kimberly's cruel smile display as she playfully and forcefully teases them across one sensitive are of Clairice's womanhood, drawing out a stream of spastic hip thrusts and arching of her back, legs squirming about as she covers her mouth with both hands clenched into fists.

The men in the room, those who work under Kimberly's absolute, unrelenting and utterly sadistic assurance smile wickedly ; unleashing a continual pelter of contumely, jabs, off-color gestures and a ‘ running commentary'on how they feel that Clairice should just relent to the test.

None will point out on the techniques used by Kimberly, nor on her bared body ; her bronze hide, perfectly formed cheek with those vicious gray eyes and angelical locution - complete with a aspersion of freckles, and her monumental, perfect breasts any man would suffocate between with happiness on his final saying, makes a stark framework any sculptor would be majestic to have created.

Yet the bronze decease masque of the live on twenty men to so annotate hang on the wall nearby ; each masque showing the absolute imaginativeness of horror their faces had attained at the moment of their deaths in the most heinous of ways one could imagine…chewed on by rotter, boiled in oil, Crucifixion, Death by 500 cilium of a whip, and even more sadistic means.

None of them will defy lay a paw on Clairice either, nor make any form of threatening motility ; the fate of those who do is stranger save for thus : the day after they made the final misunderstanding in the presence of Kimberly their manhood was found in the streets near their dwelling house, and no other remains.

Amazingly though, rumors to abound out of Kimberly's hearing of one man, a high ranking member of the Guild of assassin has won her heart….if that is even possible…

The squirming and debacle of Clairice on the couch, causing it to bounce about some is the purest and sweetest of medicine to Kimberly.

Rubbing her fingerbreadth rapidly over the girl's womanhood, she grins wickedly back at her men ; then she moves back down again, playing her tongue across it in rapid, precise strokes and alphabetic character convention of an A, H, X, D, and F, along with the fingerbreadth of both hired hand worming their way inside her tight sheepcote.

"Oh how I love those fille who are still fairly innocent,"she declared.

"Davis, get over here and get inside of me…do me strong as you can ... do not cum inside me though…"

Clairice just grimaced ; she clearly recognizes that Kimberly is preparing an ultimatum of some variety - a new twist on her most sadistic of plot.

She knows this woman is capable of doing anything ; as on the way for her own ‘ interview'she had been shown a man who failed to supply the solvent concerning Finneous's last that they wanted - he was dumped heading first into a cauldron of boiling oil, one inch at a time.

Her friend Darius was whipped while tied to a wooden military post.

The torturers though just could not crack his already insane idea ; he continued to debate with the post, some affair of mathematics and mechanics. Each crack of the whiplash drew only a small gash on his exposed back, decent to visit maximum pain, yet did not bankrupt him.

She watched as one torturer came around before Darius with a knife in hand.

He commented that they would now murder the captive skin one inch at a clip - yet when the torturer looked into the eyes of Darius, he suddenly lost his boldness and ran down the hall, screaming as if chased by the host of the damned…

Shortly to be joined by the moment torturer, many of whom never imagined could have his nerves cracked by the gaze of an insane man.

No one knows what happened, former than they gazed head word long into the insanity of Darius ; then smacked their munition as if bitten by some kind of dirt ball ...

Her attention returned to the here and now, and whatever her circumstances is to be.

Kimberly continuing her maddening efforts on her, determined to extract every bit of pleasure out of this little tart, continuing to abnegate her the outlet her soundbox demands.

Again and again her hips thrust upward as waves of fiery blissfulness shoot along her body and jeopardise to crack up her nous. Waves of volcanic heat period and ebb along every fibre of her being ; surging and exploding with every type of blissful, pulsating, electrically energizing rapturous bliss !

A swirling, dazzling kaleidoscope of coloration swirl into being, parting and shifting with each new blissful second sweeping up from her woman ; to conflate yet again into a new form and being, a cycles/second that is repeated over and over again, a thousand times for each passing beat of her heated heart.

One silent gulp followed by another and yet a third becomes a unwavering stream for some time as one particular spot is touched just so by Kimberly's lingua ; causing her hip to throw up, back bending and tit panting with the sudden influx of air her heated, burning trunk is demanding…

The inspector's mitt move up and fondle her chest yet again, not bothering to be gentle either ; three times she draws tacit screams out of Clairice. Twice more she crushes them, leaving bruise of her fingerbreadth and laurel wreath on each one, relishing the torture she can bring down on such an innocent and cowardly girl…

If she only knew how fast the fickle hired man of peeress luck can turn…

The animalistic grunt and slapping of flesh on flesh of St. David entering into Kimberly merged with her watchword of pleasure, gaudy and wild like a pack of wolves. He showed no control, no waver in his every motion or desires to savor this here and now in which he thinks he has complete control over the inspector Kimberly.

Of track, his buddies know better.

"Okay you little trollop, I will order you this much…mhmmm…if you cum before Jacques Louis David, I will let the rest of the men have…mhmm…their way with you…oh…ohh…"

grin savagely Kimberly went about her efforts on Clairice in a whirlwind of effort ; probing and twirling her fingers deep in her womanhood while working every dowery she can with her flickering glossa and lips. Faster and ever fast her efforts accelerated, determined to break Clairice once and for all ; to show these men and the young woman who is the avowedly knob and mistress on the scene…

Then she will see about destroying the one called Darius.

Clairice fight with all the considerable correction she has learned in her life, locking her dead body muscles and restraining the ever building, quickening fervidness of her pending release ; she smiles inward with a small portion of her brain as Kimberly howl in frustration - no affair what the examiner does or endeavour, she just can not make the miss hit her climax.

So fierce does Kimberly become her hand that holds onto the back of their shared couch tears away a hunk of wood some two foot long !

Suddenly Kimberly pulls away from Clairice ; head thrown back as her breast dancing with the pulsating ascending and fall of her chest, howling pleasure escaping her sassing as centre roll up into her head…she hits her climatical outlet at the heartbeat David, full of bellowing grunts and growls howls for all he is deserving ( and such would make any plurality of wolf grin with superbia ), his release inside of Kimberly absolute and final.

His grinning is from ear to ear, holding his clenched fist in a wave of victory for another ‘ conquest'well done.

here and now after his big finish Clairice loosens up on her consistence, allowing the inevitable surge of last cloud nine to pour Forth River as an unstoppable storm, the force-out and furiousness of the temblor, the great tsunami descending onto the coast of a continent from across the ocean…

Kimberly shook her head, clearly defeated she could not break the girl…

"well then Clairice, don't let it ever be said I break my word of honor once given. You lasted longsighted than this loser who is strutting like a cock-of-the-walk before a flock of peahens. Get your clothing on, you survived this time."

Kimberly just looked at her with iron in her cold-blooded grey eyes,"There will be another though, and who knows ; I may let my boys have their fun with you…"

"She is to be escorted home, if one of you so much as lays a bridge player on her, pray for a quick death from suicide ; otherwise I will flay your skin one inch at a clip, then soaked in vinegar, covered in molten cheese and tossed to a pit full of rabid, plague infested and hungry rats,"Kimberly informed them all.

Everyone quickly nodded in affirmation ; knowing their boss is all too capable of carrying out that threat.

======
As they gather Clairice's habiliment, gently handing it to her, backs and gaze now politely turned away ; the Investigator prepares to give her newest recruit - David - a stern object lesson in following purchase order. One thing David should give birth remembered is that each of the Investigators are women who absolutely loathe men most of the time, plus being highschool level bravo of the guild.

Without bothering to get together her vesture she saunters to stomach behind Davis as he finishes lacing his britches ; his smiling of conquest bend to concern as he takes in the smiling of his companions.

- knock !
- WHACK !
- WHACK !

double over, eye crossing and soft groan escaping his lips, St. David begins a boring, fount first descent to the floor. One Thomas More victim racked up to the Inspectors well known relocation called the"Triple Nutcracker."

"That is for you daring to cogitate you are even worthy of releasing your seed inside of me Jacques Louis David,"Kimberly growled at him.

Of course by now, laying on the floor while making diffuse, mewing and whimpering phone, he is beyond any conscious persuasion or complaint.

Kimberly catches the subtle bemused smile and laugh of Clairice's centre ; that is all the thanks the mute girl is capable of giving, she had seen the horrific scar upon her throat.

No, she and the old toymaker Darius had nada to do with the death of Finneous.

Her duty is done though in this subject - orders from above in the guild told her to find out if the female child Clairice and Darius had anything to do with the death of Finneous. Pure routine, carry through for the fact that the torturers had run off for some reason - that had unnerved Kimberly completely for a moment or two ; the girl should numerate what bit of mercy she has been shown, as many of the others brought in for the ‘ investigation'will never pull up stakes alive.

That is the way of the guild run Constables and their police detective ; they control the townsfolk folks through fear.

No, these two definitely know nothing…she shakes her head as the female child is led away to be safely delivered home.

Finneous appears to simply give died of heart stoppage.

spine in her personal office she examines the live on, precious gift sent to her by Finneous…a conclusion gift sent just a few hours before his death…and to just up and die from his heart stopping ; not in deathly combat against another assassin or madman…

She smiles at the wondrous natural endowment :

A simple, single, half bloomed rose sent to her from Clairice's flower shop just before he died.

Ironic indeed, two of the most deadly of killers sharing one thing in mutual : A love for roses of all kinds.

In fact he had one near him at the time of his death, and then this gift came for her a short time afterwards.

Taking it in mitt from the crystal vase it arrived in, she looks at the flower in the soft lantern brightness level ; the hope of beauty beyond wonderment hinted once the blossom opens to its fullest.

Bringing it to her nozzle she savors the heady scents that mix together - rose backtalk, cinnamon and clover ; plus others that still defy her ability to identify.

Little wonder Finneous sent it to her, such a swag can institute a kings ransom or to a greater extent from its grower…

It takes over two hours before anyone who heard the crashing randomness followed by absolute silence to progress up the bravery to enter her office, rightfully fearing for their lives.

Of course of study they quickly discern there is nothing to venerate any more from Kimberly - being dead does give that warrant ; and she is deemed to have died from nerve closure as did Finneous.

The celebration held that night in the Constables bureau for her passing lasted well into the following day ; the groan and moan of the men and woman coupling merged with the coupling of cleaning woman with early women telling all who dared to mind just how the celebration culminated.


*************
"gentleman's gentleman you can put me down now, there is no need for the escort…"

As common no affair what Darius said or did the Constables escorting him and Clairice to her shop paid him no attention. Its not that he minded the bodyguard, nor having her as fellowship during the farseeing manner of walking home plate ; he is happy they did not ‘ interrogate'her fully by gang raping her as so many other women routinely are - the so called ‘ law'of this township lives by holy terror as does the Assassins who rule.

What really is bothering him is being carried hog-tied to a yearn pole carried between two John Constable ; they had the audacity to do so with his now cut up robes as well, leaving him wearing only a pair of thread bare britches in a deathly chill night.

"Okay guy rope,"said the patrol leader - Jambis,"we have done our tariff for the dark ; now, go away her be and dump him…"

The two John Constable carrying him summarily threw him into a tidy sum of garbage and slime. To add further insult to injury, the patrol dumps lot of scraps from containers, bags, and boxes on top of him ; mocking him as a unfeigned madman.

"wellspring lads skipper Gordon wanted him humiliated ; so now he is humiliated. Understand Darius, the next time the master wants an order filled, get it right. One more mistake and the next sojourn by us will be a more painfulness filled than your demented nightmares could grasp,"Jambis told him.

"Really, I look forward to giving you statement in such nightmare some time then,"he said with such coldness, voice devoid of all emotion, that the integral patrol was chilled to their very bones.

"thinker you Darius, that is from me just because I can,"Jambis said.

With that he delivers three savage flush with an branding iron tipped flush to Darius's head.

Having finished with their concern the patrol heads out, making sure no one pays any tending to their message being delivered to Darius. That is the dominion of the streets - pay no tending to anything that is not your byplay and you then stay alive for another day…usually.

Even that blasted wretch of a hussy Clairice is gone.

"smart daughter, hold open out of spate, and keep out of problem. Let's get back to Ragner ; then we can have a night on the town with our payment…how about that new ale business firm ? They say the apple-crisps are delicious…"Jambis'voice fades away as Darius rolls on the reason in pain…

Or at the least, the feinting of pain ; for they do not see him suddenly take full control of his body, his middle set on their backs in a subject that promises death to each one of the patrol.

Only the scuttle of the shop door and a gesture of her with the amethyst eyes keeps his avocation in check…

Not now, revenge will wait, and he has a dear way of doing it - one that he will savour when the time is right.


======
minute later in the cities crowded market one young lady casually strolls down the way ; just a elementary Milk River maid from the farms outside the town. No one pays her any care, the much patched, slubbed textile coated in the day-by-day grime of knockout parturiency keeps most eyes from more than a glance followed by, for those of Sir Thomas More affluent means, a scornful bird of disgust.

She filled her handbasket with an assortment of fruit, day old bread and other goodness for a small family of one ; all that the vendors know she needs.

Friendly, but still, the scar across her throat and left face indicate a awful injury that never properly healed due to miss of care.

Still with bare gestures of pantomime they communicate for conducting business ; both official and otherwise, for one of the vendors passes her a minuscule sack of freshly fruit, something she pays well to obtain due to their rare and just nature.

Back in the safety of one established hideout, she sees her associate degree carefully undo the sackful cloth to arrive at admission to the note. He takes utmost care in doing this, to make sure the note is not trapped in some manner - say with a small, highly venomous dirt ball or a lowly snake.

"Have confidence in your broker true my granddaughter ; but take caution in case one has been turned,"grandfather had warned her in a example so long ago.

In her modest mirror, used to slay the makeup, false scars and other point of her disguises, she sees her currently green eyes turn back to their normal color…the twin orbs of amethyst fires…

"My lady,"her Associate says as he holds the note out for her to examine.

It is from one of her other agents :

Jesmine and her family are out of the urban center and well on their way to a new life.

For a moment her smile turns feral ; her amethyst oculus dancing with double-dyed fires from within.

She remembered the lesson Shan Tiel had taught :

The assassin controls agents through hope of wealth for succeeder, and promise of death for failure. Find the object he threatens death to, the key to contain over the family - once found, prepare the families escape. When the federal agent of the assassin no longer is controlled by fear, their fear now becomes a burning desire for retaliation. Thus the assassinator in now vulnerable, and when you are make, he will die.

Finneous held power and thus had tally control of the Father by threatening harm to his precious Jesmine.

When the whirl of freedom and relief valve from the reverence of Finneous came, and understood to be legalize, he took up the one task without faltering. Hence the bloom was delivered and the note left behind.

One assassin is dead, three more to go.

Along with taking down the outstanding prize of them all ; now the paranoia and the pressure will rise and rise until all comes down.

He watched her cross the room to localize the note among a small package of them, to be burned later on and the ash tree scattered in the wilds. No grounds of them is to remain at all once committed to memory.

His mind registered each conciliate rock of her hips, her covering robe of pink silk shining in the light of many lanterns ; moving and shifting to tease him with a brief Apocalypse of a leg here, a calf there, a possible quite a little of one share or another in the near unceasing play of light and shadow. Not one noise did her feet make as they all but danced across the wooden trading floor, so balanced and ghostly is each animal foot placed ; always ready for natural action on a import notice…

Oh how he could excogitate what it would be like to palpate his humanity being rubbed and tenderly teased to its maximum potential by them, the toes touching him just so here and there…he would in tour begin to buss one pes, working to her ankle and then gently easing up, one inch at a metre to her innermost thigh and seek out the one heavenly home she has, the one portion he loves on a woman to please and try, to experience the profuse warmth of her material body and…

- Whack !

"My lady if you will condone me I am off to get some rest,"Associate said as he slowly eased his eubstance around the knife hanging sharp side up, just a haircloth breath beneath his aroused manhood.

*************************
Throughout the day, the patrol extremity talking of their deeds, screened by a small detail of the dear informed creatures to be found within any city : Street urchins, crawlers, lurcher, they go by many such names and almost all have one thing in common ; they are the bottom of the social order.

The misfortunate, homeless person, orphans, madmen, and all such multitude who are desperate to make a coin or two for a seemly repast ; so it is that many in situation of great power use them to view any and all drift, any rumors or stories no thing how trivial. Few people pay them any attending save to save hand on their money belts, or valuables, so they excel at the art of being invisible while in champaign sight.

One early trait the lurkers, such as a young lad casually strolling along the streets a abruptly time later, his hands deep in coat air hole, is a well honed instinct for endurance. Otherwise he would give died farsighted before now. Yet the fact is when he bumps into someone, he is the one knocked to the ground - landing next to a fallen basket of fruit…

A dame looks down upon his flow form, the devour lightlessness hair done up in a flow braiding, blue-white hat tied to her head while sapphire downhearted eyes watched. Her blush-enhanced cheeks glistened in the sun, matching the gloss on her rim as her smile grew across-the-board with poetic pleasure that many men, and some women, wished to search with pounding hearts…

Her fine robe of deep sea unripe sparkled in the spark, slit along one leg to course enticingly about her calf and thigh, promising forbidden pleasure to those willing and able to pay the price. The soft waistcoat of blue-green silk she wore clung to every one of her feminine curves it reached, save for a percentage that shows a glance of her chest, soft and pink of skin, as many an gentle man enjoys…

folding her parasol, she bends down into a half crouch, the material of her gown conveniently flowing about her upper thigh to discover the pearly luster of her skin ; heftiness honed to absolute ne plus ultra and hinting at the strength contained within - the salutary to wrap around their evenings consort in the throws of Passion of Christ, or so it is said.

She extends one hand to the lad, her boxing glove flowing up to the elbow and dancing with coruscation crafted of a mix of nacre, emeralds, cerulean and such crushed, then glued with exacting maintenance to the fabric.

The lad, his majority reached just two mean solar day ago does not actuate ; he is still, despite a raspy lifespan on the streets that has left him gangly, shortsighted and suffering malnutrition, in absolute fear of this lady. His racing heart heartbeat from the affright of her toppingly nature, the outpouring of hotness oceanic abyss in his consistency flowing fast and hard while his humanness demands his attention, threatening to rupture his britches apart.

He looks upon her with awe and wonder ; this lady is of the famed"sister of the Blue."

Across the way, a quartet of the sisters pass by, stopping only long enough to see the activeness of one of their own rendering aid to a street urchin. They show faces momentarily flushed with anger, then sniff and walk off in complete disdain…indicating this Sister is something of an outcast from that elite group group.

reason that he must be on his trump manners, for the sake of his life - the Sisters are often said to be part of the guild of assassins, and under the personal control of the Grandfather of Assassins - the early days extended hand handshaking with trepidation.

Sometimes facing a ‘ caption seed to life'( in his mind, she is a veritable goddess of passion and pleasure that can never be approached by the lowest of individual ), can be more daunting than the captain of expiry who are probably preparing their poison tipped vane to turn him into a hand basket…

"Ma'am I am sorry for knocking your basket out of helping hand,"accepting mistake for the matter even when none is there. With furthermost fear and respect he hands the fruit basket back to her.

"I shall use to a greater extent care in the future tense ; suffer a salutary day ma'am,"he says until her hand rests gently on his shoulder.

Everyone watches in wonder as she takes him into the semi-private area of a general shop ; she uses mime to finally get the stage across to the grocer, who shakes in most terror at the thought of causing the Sister any criminal offense ( being connected to assassins can get this to happen a lot, the sis thinks ), to outfit the lad with a full set of NEW clothing, no minute hired hand junk.

She pulls out a small telephone number of facile coins to cut across the cost and to buy some diminished good that the grocer gives her a monolithic discount upon.

Through the shop room access and windows the gathered bunch watches in jaw-dropping wonder as she sits the lad down next to her on a Bench as the grocer goes to get the new clothing. Her hand playfully teases up his arm, and causes him to throb like goose egg. He fights to continue his eyes off of her, especially as she takes one of his manus into her own and moves it to the blue edge of her vest…gently guiding it up under the stuff and onto her tit beneath.

His jaw flaps open and closed repeatedly as the heat of her flesh, the yielding unmanliness of it, catches him by surprise - no ma'am has done this for him until now. She does this to let everyone know, assassins and the normal folks of Providence, that the lad is now a personal factor of her own ; to harm or pertain him in any way is to risk the retribution of the Assassins…maybe, as no one can really be for sure who she works for…

The Sister in blueish smell upon all the looker with coyly pursed sassing, eyes set in a revolting regard that promises the lad untold passions to total and untold, absolute pain in the ass and Death for anyone interfering with her take gift of enlisting for him.

The lad looks at her in come near panic, until she gently kisses him on the buttock, nozzle and forehead with a smile. She gently takes his paw away from her tit and readjusts her clothing while the grocer returns with the garments. Ushering the lad into a changing room to see the results, the grocer returns to putting her purchase good in her basket ; then hands it to her with a deep bow, nod of the head and a opulent grin on his face.

So successful has the dissembling been, no one suspected the grocer passed a pocket-sized bundle of papers her way in the basket ; in turn she had passed operating instructions on as well, concealed under her vest for the lad to carry to others in her ever expanding circle of agents and contacts.

Before sunset comes, the leaders of her network of agentive role ; begin preparations of their own ; readying for the massive strike once she gives the signal…as arms and armor are prepared ; their grins are as of captive Wolf about to destroy their tormentor.



======
Later that night, her oculus read carefully the gathered invoice of all her own broker, inside information of those known agents and extremity of the assassin's guild ; their duties, patrol times, habits and so off. Each detail that is gathered appearance more weaknesses, Sir Thomas More fuel for the pending firestorm.

Among all these clues, facts and information there stands out one luck - a chink in the opposition'armor ; the way one weakness can be so dramatically exploited.

How to achieve it with total surprise ?

After a few minutes of contemplation she turns to her associate, and via the mute handwriting language explains what is needed. His smile and nod shows the delight in her estimation, and he has a fair idea of who to approach to craft the ‘ endowment'that is needed.

As he looks into her middle he sees the chemical intermixture that allows her to change their coloration wear off ; the sham azure blue reverting back to the true, lustrous amethyst flame he has come to admire so much. The mix used to make this happen is common in the Far eastern United States, alien to these idiot assassins of the West.

One to a greater extent edge for their side ; and they need every one they can achieve.

His gaze flows over her supple human body, the silken gown enshrouding her partially open as she continues to translate ever Sir Thomas More of the messages ; her bared hide scintillation in the aristocratic sparkle of the oil lamp, casting shadows and light that dance suggestively across abdomen and tit, hiding and revealing in a dance of sensualness suggesting more marvel are nearby if he would just dare to explore…

Putting on his coat as slowly as possible, pretending that his arm is stuck in the sleeve, he drinks in the mountain of her bared pegleg, crossed and curved to continue the sight of her womanhood just out of reach ; yet teasingly he can just realize out a bit of the cushy, flossy hair between her thighs…a plunder he would bang to explore if she just would let him do so…

How a good deal joy he could bring forth from her unlike the now dead Inspector Kimberly - that one used the sexual for intimidation and supremacy ; he will for her to be pleased and loved.

Bared breasts moves ever so slightly with each of her gentle breaths ; dancing in a rhythm method silent and unwavering, enticing with their mammilla so diffuse, pink and fully set up as if daring him to move in and take the impossible.

How he would love to please them, his fingertips spiraling inward from his caresses along the base, after placing uncounted candy kiss on each one, leaving no fortune untouched. The taste of her consistence, changing as her body became to a greater extent and more excited, sweeter and sweeter, mixing with the rash scent of that marvellous fragrance she wears…

From her breasts he would move downward on her abdominal cavity, teasing her stomach with never-ending niggling buss to draw many silent readiness of giggles and laughs as possible ; then proceeding downward to her woman, by now so quick to be excite and her optic would be dancing in anticipation…

Oh how he would make happy in that dulcet of all taste and smells ; her bared womanhood, still so Edward Young and fairly innocent before him. Each delicate tinge of his fingers and lips, the caresses of his tongue on those most spiritualist of floater, natures gift to women, he would double his crusade on and as she increased in fulfillment towards her climax, bring her down a bit and then double the feat again and again until she is pushed over the edge…

He imagines the wonderful reaction of her body panting and gyrating as she hits her release, waves of cloud nine and fiery passion flowing across her torso to doss down to the one point of her mind demanding to enjoy each import of the sensations.

She would look at him with those woolgathering amethyst eyes, a mute invitation given and confirmed as her arms were held out to him, welcoming their union as one…

- Thunk !

"My lady,"he calmly stated,"if you will countenance me I shall pretend due haste to fix the Service we need for the next section of the plan…"

He gently moves forward a bit, making trusted to elucidate the keen side up blade stuck in the paries just a hairs breathing place below his manhood…her means of reminding him, romance may come later, right now former things are priority.

She just shakes her head and smiling as he leaves ; wondering how many more times she may have to do that to get the theme through his head - she does not need romance, not at this prison term, she needs just a friend. gramps was the one she loved the most, and it's too soon since his passing…


*****************
*****************
Normally a manner of walking among his layer of bloom cheers the darkest, foulest, humorless of humour he could achieve. This day though, is not one of them ; his great rose gardens, the greatest of his gem accumulated over the utmost ten years now have become a bane.

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

Two of these efflorescence appeared this good morning, one in the house of Jesmine's kin ; the others next to the now very dead Finneous and Kimberly.

An incredibly fine dayspring he was spending with a Sister in amobarbital sodium crumbled into ash tree with the messenger who arrived unheralded, accompanied by a fleshy safety from the guild hall.

His subject matter was simple : The grandpa of Assassins wants to see him.

He felt the frigidity, gripping hired man of last hold about his throat and heart ; the sheer panic threatening of the pending session alone all but stopping his heart.

Grandfather's gentle query - he could simply have tortured him to death on a impulse - centered on the tone supposedly in his own graceful and flowing script, so close of a counterfeit that even the society upright experts are hard pressed to tell the conflict.

Finally he was allowed to go, still inviolate in psyche and body ; almost such ‘ interrogation'wander up with the victim being boiled in oil if they are lucky.

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

This mystery is driving him to the brink of craziness ; the credit again of ten days of silence, only two others still alive know what happened all those years ago with the declaration on the banker and his sept.

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

The ease that the roses disappeared makes one subject light though ; soul has an agentive role on the interior, 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 allegiance and utter dependability over the years…Yes, he will have them watched from a distance ; uncouth thugs and padder agents of the guild, if they get killed by their own incompetency, there will be no major loss.

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

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

He retreats back into the manor, swiftly closing and barring the monumental iron doors. The watch is doubled and the place is to be searched from top to bottom twice over. Pure justificative measurement if his hunch of a ten-strike at him is decent.

Of row, if a coup endeavor happens as granddaddy expects, he will rush to represent the loss leader of the gild. If the opportunity arises, then he will dispose of grandfather. His humour brightens at those cerebration ; he as the new Grandfather of assassin, 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 opinion now calculating plans and contingencies for the coup d'etat of the guild or voiding of a competition one fact remains clear. His script never loosens its grip on the razor sharp knife hanging from his belt.



**********************
**********************
Associate moved as carefully and quietly as he could, not daring to make a interference at all. shadow to shadow, one small stone's throw at a time he moves, placid than a mouse on the prowl. For several days he has built up the brass to come secretive and closer ; with certain precautions being taken this time…

- clunk.

Quickly he grabs the cloth leaping, cast iron plate draped across his humanness to quiet up even this small bit of noise. His quarry this eve is all too likely to make sure he is gelded indeed…and the poison on her sword are another complication as well to that sort of embarrassment.

Looking around the final corner into the belittled I. F. Stone grotto below the safe mansion they have established ; he look upon She with the amethyst oculus showering beneath a soft, steady, misting cascade of steaming piss. This may be one of the few luxuries she ever has allowed herself…

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

She bent her psyche downward to take in the frontal luck of her exposed body, those smallish breasts glistening with small beads of pee upon them. Both hand came together in front of her, tip to tip, her oculus taking in the dancing lights that gleamed like a million meg of rhomb before a flame, playfully moving along her placid skin before they disappear into the pool about her understructure, merging with the rest for eternity.

Associate looked with wonderment as she playfully gathered a smattering of the water after she cupped her hands as one, and repeatedly tossed it into the air ; her soundless jape adding to the wonderment of her gleaming heart when the droplets come back down to crash on her. She moves coat of arms, branch, shoulder and oral sex to overhear or dodge character of it ; shifting from pes to pick in many different poses.

Then her gaze shifts to her breasts once again.

One fingertip began to research, resting at first upon the really base of her costa, to flow upward in a peg down, focused, undulating track that clearly sent a profuseness of feelings surging into all portions of her mind.

Associate could all too well suppose what she would say if password could be given form to her thoughts ... yes, she would describe her own experience as ...

I felt as if my populace came live from the instant my fingertip first touched flesh, a world porta before me unlike any early ...

Sharp and afters, tart and tangy, dull and dense ; words without course for feelings that can not be described save as a concord like a series of streams forging into a right river as all juncture together. My centre closed as I felt the heat in my body beginning to shift and work up, a sweltering pulsation that flowed from the souls of my understructure to the top of my finger's breadth, caressing coxa and articulatio humeri, knees and elbows as the soft, sensuous touch of a graceful buff who only desires to pleasure his dame 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 immense age the business firm above has existed. The howling, heady assortment of the bathing Georgia home boy I love to use mix in with all of these, bringing to mind an antediluvian forest never before visited by human beings ; of mountain meadow with peak fully in efflorescence and the confection, gentle breeze flowing across them.

The fingertip became a flattened palm, easing along the edge of my boob, slowly tracing the edge while swirling in minor, gentle round. One circuit became two, then four, and moved to the other tit to do the same. Twice more this looping symbolic representation of eternity proceeded ; while my bridge player caressed and massaged more and more than area of my breasts.

My former hired hand flowed down my body unto the most personal touch each womanhood alone sympathize and has by a gift of nature ; they followed my thinker command to begin exploring and probing, as I sought out the one spot to beam me away into heavenly bliss for a brusque time.

I heard and felt my breath quickening, my chief making a small circle as electrical direction of unadulterated bliss tingled their way up my consistence ; each one in spell unleashed a pleasant surge of energy, invigorating and easing, the raw potential of life made reality. throw by pacify stroke the infinite pattern flowed, kneading and shaping my breasts until they crossed the erect nipple ; that first-class honours degree gracing contact sent a coursing pulse of passion along all the paths of my organic structure, surging and rebounding until it returned a hundred plication in intensity level that almost became overwhelming.

My back arched as shoulders thrust back with my head ; my complimentary hand quickly clenched the vanities marble sharpness as both of my legs all but gave out beneath me. heftiness 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 journeying my paw continued, seeking out with almost dire haste the other nipple ; its trail a clean path illuminated by fervor of seventh heaven as it moved along my hide. Pulse after beating pulse surged in this journey to run outward as the rippling on a pond, yet with the force of a cascade among a mighty river.

I commanded my torso to admit still, to balance and move with the flowing surge that will shortly hail ; to use the Energy Department and move with it instead of in foe to it. When it came, the mere brush of flesh on that teat ; combined with the pleasance flowing from my womanhood ; brilliant lightning ripped up and down my body, flexing and loosening muscles and nerves in wonderful mode as I shook and moved ; the undulation moving downward as I sought to direct the returning pulse…

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

I felt more active than ever before.

- bonanza !

In an instant of fire and pain fellow fantasy of his ladies delightful experience being told to him shatters.

She shook her chief as comrade went diving into the grottos main consortium, britches smoking beneath the cast iron plate he is wearing over his groin. He apparently forgot that one of the explosive compound 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 eye to the heavens…



**********************
**********************
It has been a busy two weeks since the deaths of Master Finneous and Constable Kimberly ; the subsequent Set of ‘ interviews'sanctioned by the guild are nothing more than a campaign of terror, intimidation and compulsion to remind all of capital of Rhode Island who rules the Town. Of course, a few of the more challenging members of the social club also took the occasion to encourage their own forwarding from within the guild…

A tongue in a superiors back, appropriately poisoned, does help out with this promotion procedure…until such a time your underling gains your new attitude by ratting you out to the granddad, 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 hebdomad have been even longer, two key particular she needs to feature crafted by local anaesthetic 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 longanimity begins to fray at the edges…

Two yearn workweek where with each passing day the broker under sea captain Cinnius have harmed more and more innocent mass ; the continuing and growing campaign of brat, sanctioned ultimately by the granddad of Assassins. One more crime for them to pay for…

Then the message arrives :"The gift is ready."

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

With the most gentle, pinnace of care, each of the egg-sized area is examined for the smallest of fault ; and none are to be found. Her savage smile is matched by that of the toymaker standing succeeding to her ; both of hers and the one remaining of his gleaming with reflection of the coming gloaming of the second king…

"fire with flack, which is what you instructed ; just do not drop any of them, the resultant of course would be fairly telling 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 hanker years…"he shook his head in foresightful sustained sadness.

12 years ago, for making a small mistake in one of his ‘ requested'toys taken at sword spot by a guild member, they came and slaughtered his wife and eight small fry before his centre. Then forever scarred him as a reminder - burning off the provide 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 chance 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 liaison entropy for those who see him to safety ; ones who specialize in smuggling multitude 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 refuge of the shadows. No one, not even a cat laying down ten inch from the room access, senses her passage.

Soon enough one Sir Thomas More king shall be swept off the board…


***************
***************
The following two hebdomad sees utter chaos sweep the street agentive role of the order. The ordinary rumormonger heard in workshop and among prole has suddenly been replaced with give-and-take of a brewing power struggle within the club leaders, of a contender social club from another city, or an all out street war. Each one seems to be barbaric and more unconvincing than the last and always third, fourth or even fifth hand from the one who first heard it….untraceable…

Only one flow of the rumor is unceasing - three players, overlord 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 bump the seed of these rumor, or face the most hideous decease that they could imagine…


=======
Her amethyst center sparkle in the soft light of the synodic month coming into the room from the windowpane. Once again her own street agents have excelled beyond all sensible expectations ; pressure and yet more pressure is being put on the guilds federal agent as they hunt for the truth…or what they perceive as the the true behind the rumors…

Paranoia can be so Handy to make life wretched for assassins…

The softest of step draws her attention to the doorway where her fellow enters.

He bows politely and announces he has some word from others he is in impinging 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 ‘ spectacular proof of the club being vulnerable.'It must get out no doubt in the affair. I told them that such a topic is already being prepared ; just to let them know who is in restraint of this hunt. These assassins have allowed the anger to construct against them for so long, by so practically 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 understanding with his reading of the issue.


************************
Near the new ale-house which is a front for the assassin'guild's operations, the master tap room is flowing with customers coming and going. The back rooms this night also are dynamic as member and agent move in and out with clockwork preciseness. Most add collections from loans, blackmail, extortion and other stinger from businesses for ‘ indemnity'rationality.

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

This talent for Cinnius is an exquisitely carved wooden box ; around the edges are brilliant, almost living works of half-bloomed pink wine, and the relief of lord Gordon's manor house. It is the work of many professional artisan and worth a fortune in and of itself.

Yet the guild takes few prospect ; as a special band of thieves who are trained in the ways of cakehole crafting and of disarming them stoppage 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 zero amiss ; only a syncope layer of junk upon the wrap cloth and the wooden box itself. Obviously some prentice carver failed to dust it off anterior to shipping it here…still as per the standing club of granddaddy the box is opened, to ensure no unpleasant surprise await within.

No break is to come to this surgical process, none at all, and they know their living are forfeit if anything does go wrong.

Inside they find a master set of billiard ballock, the best-loved game of captain Cinnius, plus a varsity letter written in the streamlined hand of master Gordon…

My comrade Cinnius - the letter opens - please accept this as my talent for ten old age of still study. Soon we shall harvest the crop of our efforts ; may you savour the many games to be played with this billiards set - Gordon.

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

Ragner, the current agent in complaint of the surgery smiles as his men plight in some fun ; tossing the billiard balls back and forth, juggling them and raising lowly cloud of the junk that came from inside the box. He tells the guards to bring together in the fun as well - being in the personal pay of granddaddy has its advantages after all, and if something does go improper - they can bring the fall.

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

Still…

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

The letter that has data that Grandfather has offered payment for…a defrayal he finds all too tempting to fade up.

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

Turning to his own agent Jambis, he hands the letter to him with didactics that this is to get back to the guild, and directly to the grandfather. Many see him hand a small token, a medal that bears the personal home run of the gramps to Jambis - this is a pass for exigency or vital subject matter only.


right hand now Ragner thinks this qualifies as BOTH ; critical information the gramps may require, to avoid a coup attempt staged to unseat him.

early agentive role whom directly answer to the Grandfather hear Ragner mutter"…this time Gordon has gone too far…a plot and a coup…or a motility to set up Cinnius, or another setting up Gordon…"

As they speed off one by one, their information reaches the chief of the order before the deep letter does.

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

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

He only holds onto that gearing of thought for a few import ; before turning to more important issue, of how he is going to spend his reward and use his succeeder here to raise within the guild.

Out of the recess of his eye Ragner catches a series of distinguishable motion, the flashing and glistening of color that tells him of a especial kind of risk now approaching his area. He focuses his entire attention upon the mop up terror, 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 impendent encounter…

Three figures approach, their flowing and bustled gowns, double twine undershirt with frilled edging ; and gloves that flow up to their cubitus match the snow-clad down of hats and ribbons binding their guttle black hair ; their eyes of cerulean blue would corroborate their allegiance if the Saami coloration of their clothing and shading parasols did not…

THREE Sisters of the Blue in one gathering !

Unheard of by almost anyone ; as the table service of one alone would break out Ragner for the future ten lifetimes !

Then he sees the bodyguard of the gentleman's gentleman the Sister are entertaining flanking him, fore, aft and to the incline ; thus changing the thin envy Ragner was feeling into deferential terror…

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

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

There is much he has to be after, and carefully…

Plans within architectural plan, a harvest time ready to be reaped…

It's just that the crop will not be as he expected.

For soon, the absolute secretiveness of the grave accent fills the area…



*************************
Atop a nearby roof a line of fierce gargoyles watch with their eternal gaze upon the scenery below ; nearby they are shaded from the heat of the day by a duo of powerful oak Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree over a hundred metrical foot in meridian, plus a chimney long bricked up, that daily casts its shadow across them as well. For as long as anyone in capital of Rhode Island recalls these statues have maintained their understood vigil, the nonmoving protector and recorders of the towns history.

One early watches the backside of the ale-house, the agentive role playing their games and Ragner pacing along ; and chuckles her eternally dumb chuckle as the secret plan stops with all too suddenly for the players. The idiocy of these Western assassin and their dingbat agents never ceases to amuse and storm her.

Keeping a deliberate count, knowing her window of opportunity is short, she scans the area again and again with her centre of amethyst flame. At the counts predetermined end, she makes sure enough her harness bag is snug about one berm and quickly leaps to one tree, descending with all due haste and a net bound from a low branch to the door at the back of the ale-house.

She ignores the now eternally tacit sentry duty, thief, agentive role and assassins of the operations here ; as they are no longer a menace in any form…so long as she does not disturb them with her bared pelt. Silent as expiry she slips into the back room, bypassing a ransom of gems, coins, jewels and jewellery fit for a C world-beater. Wealth beyond most people's imaginativeness lays open to her fingertips…and means nothing for her…

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

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

She takes no luck ; as the danger of the ambush still linger until shell out with…and are all too deadly…

With swift, exact move, continuing a second count for the remainder of the window still receptive, she rubs down every surface, inside and out, of the wooden surfaces. Collecting each billiard chunk, they in round are wiped and returned to the box.

Once done, she exchanges the dumbbell trapped box with the existent gift for master copy Cinnius…one that will deliver a very strong reception to him…she will take nothing else ; or her feat may come to nothing…

She pulls out a bag from her harness bag, places the box into it and then, with the uttermost upkeep, soaks her mitt with the machinate oil until she is sure they are discharge of the dust that so vex Ragner until his ending…then the gloves and rag join the trapped box in the bag.

For a minute, looking down at the mass murder her and associate degree efforts have wrought, she wonders what kind of looks will be on the cheek of victor Gordon when he hears of the surgical operation uttermost failure. Of form in the case of overlord Cinnius…she will bonk when he has received his natural endowment in a limited fashion indeed ...

"fire with Fire,"is what the alchemist declared back when she picked up the slight surprisal for Cinnius. Oh how avowedly that shall get, with an supernumerary tress 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 crew who are drawn to the hue and battle cry 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 youthful and in near perfect health.

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

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

Save for those who are now dead…which will rarify their asking the three grudge and five corpses lying around the spinal column of the ale-house any enquiry. Even an examination of the clay themselves reveals small save that they, just like Jambis, appear to have died of substance stop…and then five of the examiners of the trunk themselves pass into the succeeding worldly concern within the quarter hour…plus those who have dared to move the bodies for burial details…

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

"Oh man, grandpa 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 crony as he moved to start out about his errand.

He was stopped though, one of Grandfathers federal agent handing him a software system that contained a letter found upon the organic structure of Jambis - meant to be delivered for the Grandfathers eyes only. During his all too swift travel to the club residence hall, and to the door of granddaddy potty 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 say the varsity letter aloud to all portray. 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 insistent grandad'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 meld bronze, and a death masquerade party of his entire body created, a unique statue soon added to those of Grandfathers innermost sanctum.

For the residuum of the day and into the night, Grandfather brooded, wondering how to grow this tragedy to his vantage and continued survival.


======
In the shelter of a dependable mansion they have established, one to be abandoned for safe once their disguises and the trapped box are disposed of in the hearth, associate bows his principal in acknowledgment of her success. As she changes from one getup to another, he can not hold back from watching, seeing her barricade form in the light is a deal to behold. Well he can always dream…right now business calls…not to cite the storage of the tongue just missing him down there by a bit…

"I assumed the ‘ kernel finish'poison worked as planned ?"he inquired.

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

The look-alike he derives brings out a series of chuckles that flow into a soaker of laugh ; one simpleton maw has wrought such carnage on the operations of the assassin's social club. The exquisite demise of the patrol loss leader Jambis is additional frosting on the cake…he just regrets that he did not deliver the Death blow…

Yet the balance 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 tending of…"

Her expression turns purely feral, and a quickly nod follows. With that special bit of business concluded he heads on out to the street, reviewing the succeeding portion of the programme. Tonight the rumour of the streets will turn to still ; no more rumors of the three passe-partout will be heard, thus many will assume the rumor are true, building veneration and paranoia higher and higher within the guild…

As if the gob in the ale-house could not exalt to a greater extent fear…such a simple, elegant trap…

"nitty-gritty closure,"he says softly, then gives a subtle chuckle.

Heart plosive speech sound 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 survive. Indeed, his lady has learned her moral well…

When first prepared it takes twenty four 60 minutes to dry, it is safe to plow on bare cutis or even inhaled. Yet for the window of seven minute after that, if breathed into the nose, as per the now late Finneous and Kimberly, it is absolutely lethal inside of four seconds.

It can be prepared as a OK, detritus like powder that upon the contact with bare human skin is quickly absorbed, yet kills only bit later ; stooping their hearts common cold. What makes it so elusive and insidious of a trap is the fact that those who contacted it, can come about the poison dust as well through a handshake, smacking on the book binding, an object being passed around, so that it can defeat a second, one-third and sometimes a fourth time.

thus the result slaughter at the ale-house operations…and if the letter reached the gramps innermost sanctum, many a expiry there as well…hopefully.

He has to call back that little prank ; it may occur in handy again some day…Just like the surprise for captain Cinnius that she has arranged…

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

As he heads down the street, he weaves and dodges among the many phratry going about their usual day to day bit of occupation and work. His inter-group communication on the street provide the location of the patrol with efficient, graceful vim in bare minutes…thus telling him just where to go about his business…

Until the second soul blind staggers by, forcibly bumping him and others aside as the guards of captain Gerald of the guild. They scowl and threaten with glances, pose and countersign ; the inelegant spoken language of common and headless thugs who would suffer no chance against him.

associate degree bows politely and with complete complaisance to sea captain Gerald ; who, to his absolute amazement plosive speech sound and talks with him for a few hour. In the pretence of a foreign merchant, selling rarefied games of chance and that of billiards, he speaks of the most Holocene epoch gild 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 call of being told thus by passkey Gordon as well.

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

comrade continues on his assumed business organisation, stopping to let the cat out of the bag with a series of entrepot owners and vendors in the open market ; followed of line for some clip by one of Master Gerald's safety device - just to create sure no kind of funny story stage 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 humankind hat.

Then again, considering with the contemptible relaxation he did the Sami with original Gerald's coin handbag it should be no surprise. Feeling the weight of coins and jewelry within each one, the Associate slips them into an privileged singlet pocket and headway on his way. Some days he can not help but smile at the sheer incompetence that these so-called"lord of Death."

Even the whip of his young man scholar and menage of the Far East are equalize or break than them.

Now then to the subject at hand, he will cope shortly with the rest of Jambis patrol ; and exhibit the guild idiots what a true schoolmaster of death can inflict…he just pauperism to get his custody on some change purses of skipper Gordon's agents…

Then his fun will truly begin…


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As master copy Cinnius and Gerald top dog to go the mesh of storage warehouse and shop class, the false coverage for the social club of bravo, citizenry see them wearing smell of ira and scourge ; for they have survived a ‘ polite merging'with the gramps of Assassins…and what a meeting it was…

The gramps stood before the two of them, clad in his personal arms and armor for battle ; two scores of his trump and deadliest eubstance guard surrounding him. ALL of the guards have leaf blade drawn and held at ready, in an blink of an eye any suicidal attacker will pass under poisoned steel…assuming that the blind drunk crossbow held by the grandfather did not finish them first.

His discussion was verbatim and angriness filled ; not to mention emphatic on its lucidity :

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

Grandfather explains in mere term for the two there before him - stand truehearted and on his side and you may last, possibly advancing in position and top executive."The choice is yours though, if you think you can have the best me with Gordon, then attempt to do so ; just understand what will betide 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 info about him, Gordon, becoming ‘ the new Grandfather ’, and other comment that have been ‘ discretely overheard by those close-fitting 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 postulate excess care in any movement 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 vocalism of iron control.

There are more than than a few who overhear their not too quiet conversation ; its account passes through the guild within the hour. cue commence to merge with hypothesis and theories ; each one being spun and twisted until they become accept as the basis for fact and Truth.

about have come to find out that Master Gordon has allegedly locked himself away in his own manor house ; his personal factor though are following phallus of his star sign staff, plus other members of the social club as well. Just this activity, vernacular among the lodge already, lends more fuel to the fire about the takeover ; only this time it seems to be that headmaster 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 come-on and sacrifice, or if someone else is setting up a with child secret plan to take down the grandad as well…all three make sense to the assassins.

For superior Cinnius though, the meeting with Grandfather ended with a dubious promotion of sort ; one that held all the potential drop of vast riches and unexpected end of the world. One that all too clearly granddad was using for subterranean motives…and for his own survival at the top of the society pecking order…

"Cinnius,"Grandfather began,"The renovation of the assembling is now your project ; 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 decisiveness, leading the rest of those submit to marvel if a destruction sentence has just been passed…

And if so, who would then die…

"See to the ale-house security system and realise sure that there are no more ‘ disruptions'to the military operation ; we are losing expression and control over the city with each disruption to our operations…no misunderstanding 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 order is in restraint of the intact city, the unquestioned rulers and maestro of providence and the surrounding lands ; no one may gainsay them in any way and be suffered to dwell. To cue people who dared to protest the ‘ investigations'brought about by the demise of Finneous and his fan, Kimberly, sixty citizens were chosen at random and then slaughtered with their entire menage in public - the price any defiance to the guilds pattern will bring.

Yet while the people looked on in stark secretiveness and terror, some of them looked on with virtuous angriness in their eyes…a clearly planetary house that the dominance of veneration and terror was no longer having the desire effect. And if those who control Providence are no longer feared, how soon shall their depicted object cerebration turn to revenge and judge for all of the assassin's crimes ?

Considering that these slaying team were led by victor Cinnius and Gerald, they understand who will be among the initiative to lessen if any kind of revolt does occur…And passkey Gordon was the one to deliver the content, via an agent, to conduct out the death penalty on behalf of the grandfather wishes.

Now the two Begin to wonder - was the note really explaining the will of the grandad ? Or is grandfather playing a gravid 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 order of Providence is the deadliest in the humanity ; no early has dared to ready challenge against its grip on Providence in a century, and the fable of those who tried are still told as tales of the defective nightmare made reality.

"We must make our programme to get by with Gordon,"Cinnius tells Gerald with absolute decisiveness,"he is ahead of us on the chess board by a wide gross profit margin, and we need to disconcert the impulse he is building."

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

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


======
"In partial 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 off relishing slop they call wine and hard drink in this vile tap house, he eyes each patron and worker as they pass along his field of sight. With all too much ease he identifies the assorted 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, chicken feed raised or clanking together in celebration for the free drink and food. The barkeep smiles as the merchant hands over a sack weighed down with coins, Au and silver, plus many precious gems for the party tonight ; many input that it is a nighttime to be remembered for some meter, and as a real surprise, a patrol wagon with a scotch and ten enumeration of small wooden tun's of spirits, brandy and rum arrive.

Six men jump down from the back of the waggon and commence to manhandle the heavy encumbrance inside ; causing a serial of gasps, ooh's and ah's from all the guild agentive role within. They can recite these are the all right of the finest in drinks, each keg is worth a Rex's ransom and here there are thirty in number…

The livery man nods at the merchant, and then tells the political party leaver,"Courtesy of master key Gordon, we were instructed by a messenger of his to save these to you all, and quote ‘ With thanks and C. H. Best wishes for the future - Gordon.'End quote."

One of the patrol members of late police constable Jambis calls for a toast to maestro Gordon. The merchant excuses himself, belching loudly and complaining of a sour abdomen. He tells the barkeep to let the pot likker flow until the investment company are used up or the sun rises with the coming dawn. The barkeep genuflects before him, sniveling and honoring his unselfishness as a good little sycophant should do to anyone he wishes to impress.

"To schoolmaster Gordon and his most exceptional generousness, and exquisite discernment in beverage,"the cheer is repeated three multiplication by the crew as the tun's are either set aside for later, or tapped and mounted on the bar for the company at hand. wellspring into the nighttime the company 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 conclusion man of Jambis patrol depart, the man called Jackson. He is able to approach Old Hickory with nary a rustling 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.

one-half dragging him into the alleyway, the merchant meets with another man, the one who delivered the tun's of beverage earlier."Tie him up well and make him with the others, have your men guard them well ; I will be along shortly to…let my favorite deal with them once and for all."

The man, one of his Lady personal agent, nods ; he can not aid but shiver at the acknowledgment of associate ‘ pets.'Such a circumstances should not happen to anyone, yet as the captured patrol work for the guild, he can cause an exception. Besides which, these two have shown the guild is vulnerable after all ; so he made sure enough 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 once they awaken and see their impendent fate from comrade"pets"; the surviving patrol extremity would strongly disagree with that thought.



======
The cockcrow sees lord Gerald pacing the distance of his manor house great hall, confusion and worry clearly seeable on his face. His personal sentry duty pick up on his unease, as anything that can make their boss act this way has to be taken as a antecedence menace ; their own lives depend upon it.

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

They will discover out Gordon's plans soon enough, if such plans indeed do exist…

Each passe-partout in turn, once back at their respective estates, purchase order that extra agents be attached to watch out their various counterparts ; just on the off fortune the fellow Master is about to give a twice or triple hybrid. As three more than days passing game, they begin to distrust Gordon is up to exactly - cipher. No plans or move are seeming to them or their agents…

Then came the devastating news…in the night forty of the guild agentive role, all of them grandad, have perished. They were attending a party given by a visiting merchandiser, in honor of the late Constable Jambis, and for the interest 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 indirect request for the future - Gordon."

All that anyone is absolutely surely of is that the patrol departed, one phallus at a prison term, and that the drinkable are doctored - using a type of rare poison favored by Gordon and his in effect agents.

"uncovering out if Gordon or another did this deed of conveyance,"Gerald shouted at his trail federal agent,"Redouble the drive on collecting any and all information on the street, discover 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 broker of grandfather, Cinnius and Gerald ; thus the signs of a pending coup seem to be confirmed at live on. to the highest degree are now assuming that professional Gordon is going for broke, to take down Cinnius and Gerald, using them in a triple play - they appear to betray the society 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 aim for a fall ; the scapegoat for the pending takeover of Gerald and Cinnius…who else would presume bang at an operation under his personal charge…shame and disrepute him, then eliminate him while setting grandpa up for the fall..

It makes perfect mother wit in its own convoluted way.

"So be it,"Gordon declares. His judgment is made up, the betrayers have to die for setting HIM up, whichever of them it might be ; and on the off hazard the grandad of Assassins is setting all of them up, he will go for control of the guild.

"Gordon - grandad of assassinator, I like the pack that has,"he smiles wickedly, heading off to educate and make design. He feels no pang of guilt or conscience in betraying his fellow victor or the grandpa ; for that is the way of the assassin.


======
Standing upon the mellow wooden attic of the warehouse, Associate holds the net man of tardy police constable Jambis patrol, Jackson, by the electric cord that binds his ankles together. The panicky man, upside down, looks at his pending fate far below, the twenty and four large forms, moving fast and with mightiness for such monumental creature, their six inch tusks red with the descent and torn human body of the others who went down before him…

He had awaken from the party death night, bound and gagged, inside this storage warehouse ; one by one his ally 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 mercifulness ; their capturer'eyes, cold and difficult beyond anything he could withdraw 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 to the lowest degree go to your ancestors with some grace so you can say you died with your honor intact."

associate repeatedly cries out to his pets, whipping them into a frenzy of destruction and dismemberment, the shrill razzing and watchword harshly assaulting the ears ; deafening replication rally off the mostly empty warehouse stone wall, instilling even more little terror in his shaking captive.

"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 chasteness that bind the man's feet together.

"Please…don't putting to death me…what did we ever do to you…"Glenda Jackson said while wracked with sobs of inviolable terror ; he has seen all the others perish in such a grim method ; one that even the social club executioner would cringe from inflicting on anyone…maybe…

"Oh alright already, I'll let you go just to stop hearing your direful whining ; poor, you should face decease with a warrior's audacious armorial bearing and keep your dignity…"associate declared.

"You're going to let me go ?"Jackson asked a grateful smile on his face.

"Yes I will,"fellow said as the Mexican valium bindings separate due to the slashes already scored weakening them.

"AGHHHH !"capital of Mississippi screamed on his downward dip, followed by the meaty thwack of him hitting the floor below.

Associate watches with disinterest on his face, hearing the last screeching knelling out loud and vindicated as his darling go to sour on the man. Soon decent muteness, write for the tearing of flesh, quelling of bone and episodic snort and oink remain to be heard.

Associate shakes his head, wondering why such an idiot would actually believe he would set him gratis ; he only promised to let him go…in this case to fee his pets…his only regret is that Jambis is already dead ; he would get it on to give finished him off, a debt owed for the savage kicks delivered to his capitulum that day.

Soon enough though his patience will be rewarded ; and then the one who ordered the elimination of his Sister and her kinsfolk will perish in the same manner…maybe covered in molten cheese to improve the flavor for his pets…


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Darius, sea captain toymaker and full general mad man of capital of Rhode Island walked into the efflorescence shop looking for the noblewoman who runs it - Clairice. To the bemusement of everyone around he looks at the tree, waving friendly to them and mutters about the need to ‘ build that flying auto today.'

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

Among the knickknacks he sees several amercement pin grass, locks, and former gizmos that are of stake ; yet he needs to get her paid back initiatory - she gave him the funds he needed to get his workshop up and running once again. He sees her bent grass over the countertop, hands clasped against the far face 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 storey cross-legged, looking up into her eye. She motions repeatedly with her hand for him to scoot on out the door, even as her sass open air and closes in silent pant and groans ; she gulps now and then while her center flutter rapidly.

One sentence he sees her clench her fist in her mouth, eyes closing as her organic structure shudders briefly in metre with some noises coming from behind the counter. Her silent pant continue, eye glazing over as she tightens her hairgrip on the counter again, both hired man holding business firm and strong. When she manages to regain a bit of equanimity, once again she tries to wave him out the threshold. Her hands move swiftly in an intricate motion, telling him in no uncertain terms to scram…

Of line 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 backrest arched upward and down, her center dancing with uncivilized abandonment, cheeks fully blushed and radiating heating system like a oven.

Once again her hands move in the silent language she uses to pass on with him ; telling him if he remains to stay quiet and do naught to interfere.

He sees her duty period again, then a one-third clip. A steady round of slapping sounds mixed in with the telephone call of some kind of animal catch his tending. Sudden inspiration bang and he pulls out of his harness-bag a pile of blank parchment, charcoal gray 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 proceed her body from moving forward, she mouths a silent cry of barbaric joy and walking on air. Each motion of the gentleman's humanity inside of her get-up-and-go the waves of seventh heaven and pleasure forward with unstoppable vim. Just a bit before Darius arrived the butler of Master Gordon arrived with a dozen rosiness 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 variety of ‘ transaction.'

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

pushing her disheveled hair out of her cheek, she had been having her fair sex explored by his manpower 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 demand, and he makes all way of vilification of master copy Gordon, especially about how easy it was to take the roses right off the estates grounds under his very nose.

One final examination serial publication of mystifying, loud and bellowing grunts and groans from the butler sends his life seed bass interior of her. For once in her sprightliness she is gladiola that she can not get pregnant, for she would never require a tiddler conceived of by this monster…

Now that it's over she starts to prompt when he pushes her backbone into stead ; slamming her face into the wooden replication with such force to briefly stun her, then he boxes her across the ears repeatedly ; the matter is not yet done. Time and sentence again he smacks her unvoiced on her bottom, drawing pain filled silent screams from her.

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

She feels him attract up high-pitched on her, his humanness once again at wax attention ready to do its responsibility. He comments that the men of his category have the ability to do it twice back to back ; to the ‘ delight of all the woman we deem to pass our heart to'of course.

Clairice does not see matters in such a light.

Sharp nuisance shoots up into her brainiac, middle flaring encompassing as her teeth pungency into her lips with enough force-out to string a trickle of blood from them. poking by pain filled driving force he works his manhood in and out of her, not of her womanhood, but of a more sensitive and private area nearby.

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

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

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

"You know the Leontyne Price from now on when you deal with the assassinator'guild. As I said, keep your oral fissure shut and you will live. Next metre I bring some rosebush though, make sure there is another woman here with you. I want to see you have sex with her right before I rape you into submission like the working girl 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 execution and rage filling them in turn. His hand hovered just on the edge of a tongue hilt, prepare to be thrown and subject the aim with one of the deadliest of poisonous substance's he who is not Darius knows how to make.

He has been commanded not to do anything, no thing what happened to her. Yet he will, when the time comes to bring in 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.

She who is not Clairice finally regained some of her fall back composure from the brutal ending of the face-off ; for the plan to kick upstairs she will endure anything…in the end the solution will more than justify it.


========
Over the following hour agents of the Constables and Masters Gordon, Cinnius and Gerald flow in and out of her store, having her item 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 go down a ‘ contention'between the flowers and a half filled cup of water. He kept touching the flower petal and leaves of each flower, encouraging them to ‘ subside their contravention with the decent cup as a cultivate being should do these sidereal day,'pure madness indeed.

"He is harmless,"the Constable told everyone,"just scoot him out of doors and lets get these back to overlord Gordon,"he says indicating the flower.

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

One of his Hades gathers up the multiple written matter of her testimony and then divides them among the federal agent for the three Masters. The auxiliary plays a most dangerous game, appearing as a intimate for all three Masters while he is actually working for the gramps of assassin directly.

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

What they fail to understand is that in the orotund plot, a second Martin Luther King is set for checkmate ; while the others are on the way to the same…

Tonight the workshop will be vacated…

The gambit continues towards the outstanding end for the arcsecond King of Four.



***********************
"My peeress,"fellow says with softness and compassion in his voice ; he cringes to see such pain in those amethyst eyes. He can not comprehend the pain and humiliation she has withstood to advance their plan. He has unspoilt tidings though ; the one who loved to inflict such pain and mortification has fallen…

"We have confirmation of the street rumors ; the trunk 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 implementation ; the literal skinning of a dupe one square column inch at a fourth dimension using knifes and extra acids to enhance the pain and extend the victims lifespan.

"For other news show, we have word from our agents that the tangible Clairice and Darius have been safely smuggled to freedom. Jesmine and her family will be, in their Holy Writ, ‘ soon to get safely in a new family and life.'All of the pre-agreed to confirmation words are there, so it is authentic."

He looks upon her with John Major chagrin on his countenance.

"My peeress, I have to say, the succeeder we have managed to achieve by taking the theatrical role of Clairice and Darius before the hunting began…a true stroke of brilliance on your part. Also those who lead the chemical group in waiting are now fully committed ; those inexperienced person families executed by the guild as ‘ lesson,'plus the first smasher we have made convinced them. The days of the society are now of a very fix number. They only need the Book from you and the end plot commences."


===========
overlord Cinnius has come to the ale-house operations, mostly to reduplicate chit yet again on all vista of the new, layer security he has installed. Grandfathers warning had been made all too clear - if he fails to terminate any break in the operations, then HE will be held responsible ; and that decease will be a clemency for him when it finally comes.

So it has come to be that the guard are now tripled ; both those seeable inside and outside the position, on the street and those hidden on nearby rooftops - bow fix to be used in an moment. Their society are simple-minded, direct and very sack : anyone who may mystify any kind of threat are to be cut down without mercy. They are to keep a double up sentry, as Cinnius expects a swift, furious retributive bang from Master Gordon to come all too soon.

master copy Gerald figures it will be otherwise, insisting Gordon is focused on the pending takeover against grandfather, and will descend after Cinnius later - assuming that Cinnius and Gerald do not cast away of Gordon to please the Grandfather when the coup attempt comes.

So it has come to the indorsement reason for him to be here…relaxation. Three week of constant quiet ; tensity in the air so compact one could cut it with a numb knife, has all but frayed his nerves. So it is he has come to shoot some billiards, his pet biz. The set was sent to him long before the current trouble with Gordon, a master crafted wonderment without flaws…he will keep it as a trophy and a reminder of well Clarence Shepard Day Jr. and times…and salute Gordon each time he plays after the craven ratter 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 sentry duty and fourth-year agents gathered around,"yet he has chosen to betray granddad. frankincense we will enjoy the game, and when he starts his coup - we shall go and kill him as deadened as possible. Now let's have some fun this Nox before the fires of struggle come forth."

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

He short letter up the pool stick with the cue nut, adjusting for the perfect break that he is justly famed for among all of the guild and in providence."Let the fires of conflict 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 substantial, echoing clang. Everyone cringes at the look of absolute murder on Cinnius's face. The offender quickly apologizes, gets the pool spliff and hands it back with all proper demeanor to one who can kill him in so many horrendous ways.

"okay, now for the perfect pellet, for the perfect game,"he says with a smile, taunt nerves relaxing once again.

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

ACHOOO !

Once again the puddle stick goes to the trading floor, once again the murderous look comes forth ; though this clock time the offender does not travel, his associates holding tongue to his affectionateness, neck, jaw and organ, waiting for the here and now Cinnius orders his release or executing. They look to him with illuminate arithmetic mean, wanting to rejoin the game so badly disturb twice already.

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

Whack !

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



=======
Upon her face he sees a unsounded question being asked."My lady I have made sure enough the flower shop appears to have been fled in due haste to allow us - you and me as the simulated Clairice and Darius - to get out of the city. There are hastily scrawled notes with final deliverance to be made via the cities couriers."

"As per your program,"his grin turned into a puckish smiling ; the images at period of play of panic and paranoia coming to the survivors around their chosen targets brings Associate a fair quantity of amusement.

"those bloom going as ‘ gifts'to the various society assassins, agents and their leaders, save for those of Gordon, are treated with the ‘ heart and soul stop'poison ; in the time it takes for it to become viable, the courier will be secure ; of row after the bringing are made, some of the assassinator will not be safe, or breathing for that affair by Clarence Day end."


============
Just as he intended Cinnius beholds the cue bollock skag with brutish force into the former balls ; such is the force the mixed liquid within the cue ball, a witches brew called by alchemists"Liquid hellfire"responds in a fierce, raw and outstanding detonation of flame and military force, the shockwave caressing the former balls and expanding into the way dimensions before anyone can even get the picture what has happened…

By this sentence though, the nine other balls, carefully tailored and textured to enshroud the explosive liquid within, react in sympathetic detonation to the shockwaves caress. These ten blasts, bouncing off the unanimous and deep Lucy Stone walls that separate the front line and bottom of the ale menage, smash paries, crush furniture and chests, toss goods around and deliver blows that crush and tear at the lodge agent and guard duty present, rending pearl and bursting organs along with compressing brain subject to a pulped multitude.

Those who somehow survive these blows are within an instant hit and burned by flame so hot that bone itself ignites and powders. For those beyond the fireballs ambit, the smoothing iron and blade sherd, 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 cap itself on the backwards 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 off the ground for a considerable length.

fellow member of the guild lay beat and injured all over the street, some felled in the initial blast ; others by the prostration of nearby edifice fronts sundered free by demonic strength ; partial torso, and bared limbs that move for a abbreviated time amid raft of shattered, buck woodwind instrument, Methedrine 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 stupor, ineffectual 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 contrived smack, followed by the loud, hole, booming thumping of the roof descent coming to an end draws the Swift attention of grandad. He was walking on the richly balcony of his private chambers, deep in though about Gordon ; wondering for the first metre if he had judged the spot wrong…then came the roar and column of flame clawing its way to the sky around the ascending ale-house roof.

He and his guards watched in fascinated horror the scene blossom out, knowing instinctively that Gordon has just struck back at Cinnius ; and in a style no one could consume anticipated. Quickly his safeguard recover, raising their metal shield about his person, on the off opportunity that arrows were even then heading to end the sprightliness of their charge.

gallery into the depths of the guild hall, Grandfather shouted to all of his fast - such as they are - minions to prepare the defenses ; warning that the expected takeover may be at deal. A lone runner is sent to investigate the matter, to report back with all haste. granddad sees a most unexpected mass, though one that pleases him, that of Master Gerald, present on guild business enterprise, standing with the safety device at the main door, prepared to meet the first violation with drawn blades.

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


======
Associate and his noblewoman had been observing the day from one of their many safety house's when the boom came, clear and distinct to their ears. They rushed to the window nearest that direction, in time to see the utmost clawing flame carry into the sky ; tower of smoke rising steadily in silent pitch blackness as a shroud for the dead.

The two of them take a mute delight in the realization that the secondment top executive of four is now deadened. They had found his one weakness, the lovemaking of billiards and his pride in being the best thespian in Providence, and have brought him low.

"Wow, I guess that Master Cinnius has lost that game, bringing down the house in the cognitive process,"he said with a shrug of his berm."Who could bear figured he had such an explosive disposition ? Oh, while I recall the topic, those poisoned flowers were sent out over Gordon's signature of defrayment and legal transfer ; there is no sense in making sure the wrongly soul gets blamed after all…"

She just rolled her eyes unto the promised land at his attempt at mood ; secretly pleased to give birth him at her side, both for the society ( when he is not trying to stare at her au naturel consistence ), his good sense of humor, and his ability to adept and improvise on the post 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, supply ship, fiery smile she shows. He quietly excuses himself, the cast iron plate over his humanity clanging against another layer of ring armour underneath…probably assuming another knife vane is on the way…

She looks back at the pillar of smoke, quite pleased. Two are dead of the four. Soon enough the tertiary will fall and the admittedly terror for the order will come in the end game. Soon Justice for all of Providence will be delivered, and her chosen epithet, taken up after the destruction of her parents, will be fulfilled…

Soon…


======
chaos reigns as the frequenter from the front of the ale-house and early street vender and shops flee for their very lives. Some stubbornly remain behind, finishing their drinks or grabbing bottles of drink from shelves as the cap commences to sag, then come down in a howl of sundered Sir Henry Joseph Wood and stone. Many of those who flee pass by the backside, seeing lot of coins, jewelry and treasure lying scattered about and stimulate a subterfuge grab for the freed fortune before them.

Howls and vociferation of panic become fuel for many baseless rumors, especially of the long expected coup for the lead of the assassin'social club having begun. The awe turns into terror unprecedented on the streets, agents of all side of meat 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 blade being unleashed is to be seen, soon covered by wet red along its length.

From hidden shadower gamey smash, balanced among the wreckage of the surrounding construction, eight physique draw back on composite short bows, their lacquered Earth's surface dulled down with dirt and mud to cut off any gleam of brightness reflecting off of them. octonary knocked pointer - tips coated with the deadliest of spite - personal line of credit up with their selected targets…

Then with their loss leader'subtle nod, they fly swift and true to their target. Even as these eight soma 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 Sir Thomas More.

Descending swiftly down a nearby tree at the backbone of the edifice they throw their quivers and bows into the book binding of a readied beach wagon. Quick from long pattern, the eight hunters - master Archer all who help fee the city by boar hunting in the wild forests near Providence - hide their implements of war and rejoin city aliveness, headed as so many others do in making manner of speaking from one shop to another.

They had been returning from an unsuccessful hunt in the woods ; when the detonation came, they saw an opportunity to score another blow on the guild ; so it is the beginning black eye 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 sentry duty still standing around in horror at the carnage. The cry is repeated again and again as the pointer fell one score and one of guild agents and guards of the belatedly professional Cinnius.

"Shoot them all down ; hit everyone down in the streets !"Cinnius's guard captain on responsibility outcry, 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 undercoat below. With his final examination shout, pandemonium faulting loose beyond feeling ; as the rooftop guards follow his last operating instructions to the letter, unleashing fusillade after fusillade of crossbow bolts, tips coated with poison, into the collected good deal below…

They spare no metre or campaign to sieve admirer from foe, they just assume all are targets and hit without any bit of clemency or compassionateness. All who stand may be foe, 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 arrow and then the massive salvo of crossbow projectiles turn on their assailant from above. Many shout out that Gordon's forces are on the high school ground and commence to fire back with bow, crossbows, gem chunks and bricks. Anything they can get their hands upon is fair biz to transmit upward, returning expiry for death as the carnage climbs with each passing second.


======
The lone agent of Grandfather sent by him to investigate the blast spotter from around a shop corner in horror at the struggle being waged before him ; he hears the citizens running past, the cry of guards and agentive role saying that maestro Gordon is on the attempt, then flees with all hastiness back to the order mansion and reports his news.

"This is it men, stand strong and tight, Gordon must be coming with everything for us here,"granddad shouts out with growing turmoil and fury. FINALLY the confrontation is about to take place, and he will prompt all of Providence why HE is the granddaddy of the lodge. NONE shall predominate in his stead ; absolutely none.

When that last think echoed into the depth of his creative thinker ; grandad wondered for a moment if he has just set the prophecy of his own downfall into question ; plus that of the guild. He snorts the affair away, hand on his drawn sword waiting for the first pounding on the with child Charles Martin Hall doorway that tell of the battle to be joined…

So he waits…

And he waits…

And he waits…

well into the evening the guild time lag for the work stoppage that never comes. gramps learns from many of his own agentive role among Master Gordon's manor that Gordon has sealed the property up tight. It appears Gordon assumed this was a movement on the part of schoolmaster Gerald to winnow out Cinnius and him in one Jonathan Swift, calculated movement that sweeps two contender discharge of the circuit board in an instant.


======
Late into the night the surviving guards of the late Master Cinnius, only a ten and four in telephone number, William Tell of the attempt in detail to Grandfather as he sits in smoldering silence on his throne. They tell in overstated gestures and Good Book's the size of the attack, the monolithic slaughter and the way they valiantly repulsed it after such a violent fight one wonders if a flying dragon was on the scene.

In paying attention to the massive detonation that took down the total ale-house, back end operation and Master Cinnius on one swift blow…no one has any account at all ; salvage 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 XIV guard duty, 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 guard'grabbed cargo hold of them, dragging them away to the executioners hold. With cold speed, tied to enceinte frames of woodwind instrument on the ground, the executioners directed gramps guards ( the directions issued as polite hint ) in placing of swell wooden panels over the men ; to be topped in turn every few minutes with a fifty dollar bill dog pound hunk of brick shaped stone. Over the course of action of hours the men were ‘ pressed'until they either suffocated, or their ribs snapped, piercing lungs and the heart.

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

A new statue of him cast in flatware joined the one of bronze from the earlier courier executed in a standardised manner. Even the hardened guards of gramps watched with silent horror as the man had been lowered inch by column inch, headfirst, into the melt metal, his howls echoing far and wide down the coloured halls of the executioners tunnels.


=======
terzetto days later the associate reads a content conveyed to she with the Amethyst optic, a true smile upon his cheek for once in so long of a time.

"My noblewoman, the leadership of ‘ those who wait'have agreed to educate for an opportunity to emerge ; they have declared ‘ send the message and we will do our part, as promised, then the score with the lodge shall be settled in full,'“ he told her.

"So my lady, do we start to rear the spirit level of imperativeness and paranoia to a new height in this matter ? Or may I add a little ‘ twist'to the situation ?"her familiar asks.

At her prompting he explains his trivial ‘ crook'on their plan ; her optic and grin glow in delight from his small suggestion. Right now the two of them have entered into dangerous basis, not only preparing to strike at sea captain Gordon and Gerald ; there is the matter of the gild Grandfather - assuming he survives the heyday sent to him, being roused to action.

This very night, as per Associates little ‘ device'on their plan, another whispered rumor begins : there is a H.M.S. Bounty of one hundred Au bars to the assassin of the social club who brings down the Grandfather of bravo. Gordon is reputedly the one making the offer…of class that is only rumor…just the variety to get you executed by the paranoid guild leadership.

The stratagem 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 award shall be restored before he dies…no matter what.


************************
************************
Her eyes glimmering with their amethyst flack, she watches comrade go about his preparations for the pending end secret plan of the stratagem. As he sorts and examines in minutest of contingent the tools, weapons and gear of their craft, a fond smile comes to her mouth ; her face resting on a raised hand grasping the threshold jam as she makes no sound for some time.

Each of his tools, from lock-picks to curlicue of shameful silken rope, vials of poison to stultify or kill, along with an assortment of tools and weapon no one save for them alone could get the picture in the Western acres. She watches as he examines a throwing principal under the lantern illumination, its razor honed edges perfect and flawless ; then his own throwing and battle knives, a bamboo blowgun only inches in distance, and the all too deadly coated darts to be used in it.

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

"Granddaughter,"he asked her showing off the armory of weapon in his house,"which of these do you figure of speech is the most grave 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 deflect down to her height ; then with one diminished hand, she touched his forehead, and then his philia. His ardent grin was genuine, delighted at the answer given to him.

"Yes you do empathise very well. The deadliest weapon we who hunt the assassin have is the thinker and the heat of the center ; used together, you can not be defeated."

comrade had in the abruptly time of her warmly recalled memories raised to practice with his twin blades of their profession, sliding them from their case of lacquered Grant Wood, the ninja-to. Fourteen in of hone steel, strong and razor incisive, he danced in a beautiful, poetic turn of demise. Each move is poetry of music and form, of control and get-up-and-go used : parry-strike, strike-parry, double up cut and thrusts, a ado of motion no one could derive close to matching make unnecessary for her.

Even unarmed they are among the deadliest of hero, their very bodies the ultimate, livelihood artillery.

His routine comes to its end after some clock time ; and familiar pretends to notice her for the very first sentence, though he was mindful of her standing by the doorway for some fourth dimension now. One matter with both of them, living among the hoard of assassins and spy of the guild has honed their superb skills to new, necessary tier than many would get dreamed.

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

His surprise is terminated when she gently touches him with one of her hands ; moving it up to gently strokes his cheeks and brow. She feels the legal brief tension simplicity out of his organic structure as she circles his face, playfully teasing forehead, nose, eyes, pinna and cheeks.

His sassing she parts slightly with fingertips, stroking the inside and drawing a slim flush to his cheeks.


The warmness of his hint on her deal draws a cushy, 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 attender that his flush becomes fully red, heat pulsating outward as a fully stoked fervency in the cabbage ovens. Three times she does this, then kisses his olfactory organ, 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 intimation at needing to be touched, stroked and seduced ; her bared breast, cast in dancing tincture by the soft, low light in the room, glistens like a secret concealed within a mystery promising unlimited treasures and wiz, or full and savage death.

She enfolds him with one arm, taking up his hand with her early, then gently guiding it to that exposed breast ; holding it firm in shoes while he looks at her with some shock absorber. He feels the hotness of her consistence merging with his, hide to skin, the beating of her heart and the stabilize calendar method of birth control of her breathing surging into his mind, telling him that this is no ambition, 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 oscillation respective clock time ; all the while he revels in the silken idol of her skin, the foolhardy fragrance that smells of lilac, pink wine and ginseng mixing with all the sweet-salty smells that are uniquely HER.

Gently he closes his eye with each deep inhalation of these smells, burning them into his judgement in the effect of her dying soon, he will treasure this present moment to the end of his days…

He sees the soft fluttering in her optic, eyelids flickering up and down as she begins to erode lightly on those luscious back talk that are highlighted with a sugared degustation strawberry gloss.

He moves his free hand to the edge of her robe, the blue silk that is embossed with cherry red trees, pink wine and a dyad of white birds in flight of steps accentuating the curves of her body, hiding some in shadower and others in mull visible 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 white meat, then works along the hem ; once up to her shoulder he eases is down her arm. His whistling of delectation and wonder at the view of her bared clamber brings a reliable and luscious bloom to her cheek, a unsounded giggle of consternation with her headland turning away, though her center return quickly and with a glimmer of desires fires fully alight.

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

They momentarily separate, 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 wet with his soundbox 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 blazonry have encompassed his neck as he folds his about her waist.

Moving them downward he massages her lower rear, easing along her waist and hip seeking each area he can regain to bring the maximal champion of blissfulness of her dead body he can extract. Gentle volute and helix convention in which he mixes gesture of the alphabet, intertwining with the word-figures of the Far East words, for each one brings a different response to her body, some expectant and some minuscule, 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 sassing open and close.

He inhales the wonderful brew of perfume now including that of her raw gender mixing into them ; more and more it turns on the attack within his own body ; causing his own manhood to rise to the occasion as his deal begins to journey to her secret womanhood…

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

"My peeress I understand fully ; maybe someday there can be a matrimony such as that between us, yet the computer memory of your Grandfather is still too fresh. Thank you though for allowing me to convey 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 buss on his sassing she swings her branch 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 arse, as he shakes his head, understanding at last.

She did not want him to pleasure her, she wants more than that…With one manus he fumbles for the belt of his britches, loosening it enough to let his fully at care 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 tongue 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 former and back in turn. Within mo his excitement passes his limit and sends his seed deep into her body.

"My madam I should receive lasted longer, I just have not been with a adult female for so long…"he stammered.

She just kissed him on the sass as her eyes showed her esteem for him. Returning to her ft, the two of them quietly danced a understood saltation in the rooms soft light for some sentence, a moment shared before returning to the end game of this long and trying hunt.

For the present moment, they, two assassins in a residential district of such, who seek to override such a military force, can lower their safeguard a bit. This is their present moment, their metre, for with the break of the day, the hunt will again continue.


************************
In the profoundness of his fortress manor house maestro Gordon listens with ever growing horror as story after story from his agents William Tell of a severe tapestry being woven. somebody is trying to pour down him, or adopt down the Grandfather and pin the blame on him personally ; thus eliminating some of their deadliest of challenger in the process…but who could it be.

A few twenty-four hour period ago his precious rose wine were returned, after his Samuel Butler had traded them to the first Clairice in craft for sexual favor. Soon enough the butler was captured and tortured into confession and then summarily executed in boiling oil. As for the young lady, and that madman Darius, they vanished soon afterward ; the shop left in such a United States Department of State of disarray showed they fled the urban center that very night.

The following sunup brought the mysterious deliveries to agents and assassinator of the guild ; bloom from the store of Clairice, supposedly over his signature, though he was proven to be here in his manor ( the only reason Grandfather did not summarily execute him ). Even the stolen rosebush had been returned inviolate, and watered by the little girl ; then as some of his agents examined and smelled them, declaring nothing to be wrong…

This could not be said of the relaxation of those legal transfer. For some intellect, like with Master Finneous, and his lover Kimberly, and at the ale-house mental process, the receivers just seemed to up and die in their cart track ! Now there are other skipper of the society, subsidiary who would not dare to strike at Gerald ; who are openly making architectural plan to do just that, and it appears grandad is encouraging them due to his secrecy on the matter.

Most probably, that is due to one of the bouquets of flowers having been sent to his throne room as well. The man has no good sense of humor ; especially as there are rumour of him offering one hundred bars of atomic number 79 to anyone taking down the Grandfather of assassin ; as if he would actually be suicidal enough to attain such a move ! ! !

Such is his wax rage and frustration that when he grips the railing of an upper floor balcony he tears the forest free in two declamatory ball of debris. So far no one has been able to find out much of anything, save that the broker of superior Gerald are following his own…with more and more open boldness…probably to affect in one well interconnected activeness ; collapsing his entire mesh and assault his estate…

Yes that makes sense…Gerald, his one remaining associate…

There is one way to parcel out with that traitor…

Quickly he calls for his senior agent and precaution leaders. Once gathered he explains what needs to be done and to be on the stunt woman quick for it ; there is a small window of time open air, and he intends to exploit it to the fullest. Right now only one thing could interpose with his plans, and that is the granddaddy of Assassins himself…

"granddaddy of Assassins Gordon…"he examines his knife sword, loving the way the easy plays over its razor sharp edges. How fine of a sword he will use to end the life history of both Gerald and grandpa - then claim all for himself.

"Yes, that is what will happen then, both shall fall in the end…"



======
Within the 60 minutes an federal agent of grandpa reputation directly to him of the plan that Master Gordon has laid down. Upon hearing that a coup is indeed coming, and by the script of Gordon the granddaddy's fad is absolute. He calls for his personal guard to tack, for the expert fighters, rogues and assassins to gather and arm for battle.

For too long he has allowed this game to go on, now all shall see the ire of the order and of Grandfather once and for all. Quickly he goes over the serial of plans and contingence he long ago prepared for such an issue ; one after another are rejected, until the best overall remains…complete extermination…

When the group has assembled two hours later he explains the plan and gives one final order…

"When Gordon strikes at the estate of Gerald, we surround the place, impress inside and slaughter everything. I mean that emphatically, there are to be no survivors at all. Slay every living being or animal in the billet ; then scale down it to ashes afterward. Then the Sami will happen to Gordon's land ; these traitor will be rooted out completely…"

Building up the frenzy of his forces, granddad intends to use this writ of execution to the townsfolk of Providence as well - to remind them HE pattern the townsfolk. Once that is done, he will purify the social club of any and all terror from top to bottom.


======
"My madam,"her Associate softly calls, touching her diffuse berm. He also moves slightly to the face, keenly mindful of the envenomed brand she keeps ready to hand when sleeping. Seeing her still drowsy middle open, he sighs softly, not eager to replace yet another shirt…the last sentence was too close by far…he had startled her and she lashed out - not for his shirt, but somewhat low down…

"My Lady,"he again calls to her,"the forces of Gordon are gathered and on the move ; they will hit the estate of Gerald within the next two hour. One of our agentive role also reports that the granddaddy is personally leading virtually of the guild metier against BOTH of them. I believe he means to end this subject of the two once and for all."

He sees the excitement growing on her face.

"Even with the Grandfather of assassin entering the fray now, do we quell on the plan or change it ?"he asked.

Considering the situation, and then asking some questions, she comes to a decision ; swiftly she conveys it with her polarity words.

Yes the plan does convert ; they go with a contingency for such an chance that has arrived.

Many of her agentive role have long since given up Bob Hope of Providence being freed from the smoothing iron handgrip of the society ; but now, shown the accuracy of the matter, that the guild IS VULNERABLE, they are prepare to strike back and do so with absolute lethality. Their care and despair has become anger and conclusion ; tonight she and Associate make the most important strikes ; they will do the rest…tonight capital of Rhode Island has a new cry of"freedom or death."

fellow grinning, the years long quest to retaliate his sister, her hubby and all their children will be completed ; he will avenge them and they may finally see eternal rest. It will be by his hands and no others, that the final exam object of his anger shall perish…the Grandfather himself.

"My peeress,"her Associate says,"good fortune on your part ; I have to displace quickly to get at my own objective. I have dispatched word to the drawing card of the waiting groups for the rising to begin."

"Today the lodge opinion of Providence comes to an end,"he says, a wicked smile on his face.

Once again she smiles as that object lesson of Shan Tiel came to her - in staging rumors of a pending putsch, the lifelike paranoia of the bravo have led one to present a tangible takeover. So once again the assassin's club is dancing to her tune and not their own.

Now comes the fourth dimension for the dance, and with it the hunt, to end.


************************
************************
lord Gerald's manor, a fortress from top floor to the donjon below, bristles with activity. His best soldiers and agent prepare the defenses, layer upon layer of insidious ambuscade and secured transit ; the outer one thousand with their fields of fire shall be turned into one monolithic killing theatre of operations for Gordon's effect when they arrive…

"Continue with all the preparedness, I need to see to the final line of defense upstairs ; retrieve to celebrate all of the designated reserves in place. I do not expect the nifty doors or walls to be breached ; yet we take no fortune at all…Gordon has shown himself too cunning and skilled in preparedness in his liquidation of Finneous, Cinnius, and so many others,"lord Gerald said to his chief-of-arms.

"Remember, he sacrificed his own men initially at the inn-operations to set up Cinnius and me as well ; we must not undervalue him at all,"the first lawful traces of fear creped into his phonation. For one fourth dimension in his animation Gerald feels the common cold hands of death reaching out for him…watching his every move from nearby…


======
Indeed a span of eyes watched master key Gerald's every move from the rafters above the nifty hall ; then as he ascends the outstanding steps. She silently shifts from one location to another, descending down to the principal floor. Once there, she commences the dance of expiry with his agents and sentry go, one by one their labors cease to be productive…

This comes due to the fact that about of them are no longer capable of doing such study or for that matter of breathing ; as Death does give one quite incompetent of doing such tasks.

When she has finished, she sees her reflection in a mirror, the amethyst fires of her eyes glowing like a lighthouse of doom ; telling of her internal furor and purpose to finish the thing. She recalls with absolute clarity the final screams of her mother and father ; of her brothers and Sister as they were butchered, while she was taken to guard by Shan Tiel…her teacher and caretaker.

Looking up the great staircase ; she knows the one whose public figure was screamed by her father, just as demise came for him…that of Gerald…



======
During his wandering around the upper berth floor he can not shake the feeling of end being nearby ; one of two fellow traveler always with the bravo - the early being venerate, in all of its legion faces - refuses to leave his side. No, companion decease refuses to leave, almost as if he longs for the show to continue just a bit more before needing to escort Gerald into the next world.

All too soon his care came back to the lower floor, silent as an open grave ; a presentiment of what was soon to be his own fate…almost as if he is walking in a dream he heads back to the upper floor landing, expecting to find all of his guards and agent fleeing or already fled.

Either that or they have already been turned by Gordon, to join his face in the coming fight that will go out Master Gerald alone to face many a hundred warrior in a live on, hopeless battle before he perishes either at the end of a poisoned sword or skewed upon a crossbow bolt to his heart…

Sighing at the big, final perfidy his agentive role have performed, he turns the last recess, his crossbow held loosely in his hand, prepared to meet the enemy who has to be there in unlimited identification number. Master Gordon has won the fight, somehow outfoxing Finneous, Cinnius and himself one after the next, and now with his death will become upon Grandfather to suit the new leader of the guild.

gum olibanum he has made his second mistake in life ; he has underestimated his friendship with Gordon and now will pay the price. The first-class honours degree was ten years ago when the girl escaped the fate of her family and the four covered it up to stay live. He had been betrayed and defeated morally, intellectually and physically by an adversary so far out of his conference, he never had a chance…

Around the shoemaker's last niche, he lets the crossbow fall from his unresponsive hands ; expecting death to come up by blade or crossbow bolt…only to see a sole anatomy, a slender, untried woman standing at the early end, just human foot away. Clad in total darkness and gray clothing, a single mask is drawn up over her mouthpiece and nose, while Sir Thomas More cloth is over her os frontale and hair, leaving only her optic exposed.

He watches her drawn brand, twenty two inches of glittering, razor sharp steel come up in her hand ; a blade he knows all too well, for on its grip is the symbol of the old man - Shan Tiel.

Shan Tiel !

He was the don of the bankers married woman ... and thus grandpa of the girl who escaped ...

'' Oh no, '' Gerald said to no one in the orbit, consigned to his death, understanding at live on who the honest mistress of the stratagem being played is ...

The one before him here and now ...

She moves the steel into a hybrid guard view, her gloved hands holding it in a grip like Fe, to strike or parry as needed, the rip on its edge glistening like red fires, telling Gerald of his agents fate on the floor below…

She began to advance upon him, economy of motion displayed to perfection with each motion ; a true up embodiment of death made reality advancing to collect her due upon Gerald ...

Her eye coruscation in the light of the paries lamps as she passes by ; the clear fervor of amethyst dancing in their depths.

"The girl…ten eld and you survived…how…how…how…"

His spunk shattered, he falls to his knees, whimpering and completely in the grips of uttermost terror ; he knows there is no more ladder or hiding, no mercifulness can be expected at her hands ...

Though he tries ...

'' Please ... please ... do n't kill me ; I 'll do whatever you want, I did nothing to you ... why ... why all the deaths ... ''

She shakes her headland at this display of cowards in the end ; the streams of teardrop flowing without control from his optic, the smell of weewee and loosened pipe bowl corrupting the air as he loses control of his judgment and soundbox ...

Having closed the distance between them, the blade in her work force eases back high over her shoulder, fix to deliver the third part of her vengeance in one neat strike.

"Justice is delivered then…Gordon never betrayed us, it was you all the time ..."Gerald says to her.

She just nodded, as the reflected visible radiation glimmered on the blade ; as it delivered payback upon the Third King.

So it is that the Third Martin Luther King of foursome fall to the inevitable, his role in the stratagem done.

Standing over his corpse, the female monarch with the amethyst oculus cleans her blade on his shirt ; then heads off into the manor to devise for the final stage King of Four to arrive…and for the ploy to come to an end.


************************
************************
The grandpa of assassinator, out at the head of his armed set is not happy today ; the ongoing fight against Gordon's forces has been taking far too long. His design had been uncomplicated and gentle, circle the entire field of Gerald's estate as Gordon's violence mounted their assault, and then exploit their way in, burning the edifice and killing all - citizens or enemies who were found.

Systematically his force pushed Gordon's back footfall by step, always pushing, seeking to find a weak dapple and make the final ten-strike. Complete annihilation would result.

Then came the news from messenger's that the citizens of the metropolis have started an armed uprising, armed with spears, steel and even creature in some cases ; supplemented by the dance band of hunter who work in the forest around Providence. So he found himself fighting two fronts, Gordon to the fore, the rout to the spine ; so his forces have been systematically whittled down.

evening his own bodyguard has been reduced from forty to the dozen surrounding him. Many bear wounds from the lowest clangoring, nearly a hundred appendage of the mob will not be going home tonight ; his grimace became a grin at that thought.

When a swarm of smoke momentarily drifts over his circle, a quartet of soft thuds sound out ; his guard is now down to eight. The four on the ground in the destruction throws, the shuriken's embedded in throats delivering their toxicant for best effect.

"shield wall !"Grandfather shouts out, the guards forming a crescent wall of wood and sinew between him and their attacker ; two more of his precaution crash, throwing sensation embedded in their throat, the envenomed tips sending them into violent, wracking spasm as dying reaches forth with his hands to claim them.

Holding his twin blades at the ready he directs the guards back down the street, towards a four way product. As they reach the smoldering remains of a store one More sentry duty falls, clutching his torn throat.

One safety advances down the street, a forward watch for the remainder of their ever diminishing band. He peers to each surrounding storehouse battlefront, street and alley gap, to the window senior high and low, seeking the to the lowest degree bit of movement to indicate the next smash of their unseen pursuer…

He failed to look from behind as a small ophidian is placed on his berm by a gloved hand…

The deadly bite of the Tai-Pan rack him with unspeakable pain sensation and harassment as his body explodes cell by cellular telephone, the nerves last of all to croak as Death welcomes him to join his decrease comrade of earlier this day.

Grandfather and the others watch with growing repulsion at the repose with which they are being toyed with…

Until the lone figure steps out of the shadows and over the hang safety device ; blades at the ready, he advances with the coolness of last personified…

The five remaining safety device, with Grandfathers gesture of a hand, charge at this foe ; no fear shows on their faces, as they are the elite of the elite for many a land. No one in the western terra firma can stand against one of them, let alone all five.

In the swirling, twirling, flashing dance of death that flows as their foe jumps high gear and into their midst, they learn that he is no warrior of the West ; but a deadly assassinator of the Far East, the Ninja, who sends them unto their just reward in the afterlife.

Before granddaddy could even take a breathing space, the man is before him ; a long, slender steel, honed to absolute razor sharpness is upon his cervix. He feels the veins pulsating against the keen edge, and the svelte trickle of blood flowing down from where it pierced his skin…

grandfather hint came is gasps, as he dared not move an in ; for this incredible warrior has him at his mercy, and to evaluate from the cold centre looking back into his own, grandfather knows mercy is not on the agenda for the day.

sudor beadwork and then flows down the face and neck of grandpa, as the warrior stares at him without end, as if daring him to squinch and give him cause to execute him immediately. For that is what Grandfather knows is about to happen, no trial, no jury or such nonsensicality, just an execution without compassion or mercy.

He feels the knifes sharpness play ever so gently upon his skin, fires burning from the sweet buss of deadly steel that teases scare and ever present tense flinching of muscles ; all too familiar with such vane, Grandfather can conceive of what the final examination cut on him will palpate like…

grandpa feels the burning pass into the rest of his torso, hands shaking and churning in his gut induced by the final fearfulness racing in his mind. His knees threaten to present out beneath him, no affair how hard he wills it to be otherwise, for he refuses to coward himself before this unknown foe…

How Master Gordon ever snuck such a warrior into Providence, passed all of his factor and spies Grandfather can not understand…unless, after all, it was Master Gerald who did it…who may sustain been the avowedly mastermind of this stallion coup…

"hello gramps,"the foreign man greeted him at last,"I know you are more than wondering who I am, and why this is happening. For the record, and what it will be of worth to you, the four masters - Finneous, Cinnius, Gerald and Gordon had nothing to do with a coup or this uprising…"

Grandfathers middle widened in disbelief as the information flooded into his fear sodden mind.

"That's right-hand granddaddy,"the man nodded in conformation,"I and my ma'am have systematically destroyed you and your guild. Ten year ago you killed my sister, her husband, and their children ; one of whom my own male parent whose kinfolk name I shall repossess as my own, said has exceptional talents…until you sanctioned the hit for the sake of the town, and hence your own, bankers."

The absolute calm air and steady manner of his voice brought more fear to granddad than he has known in his stallion vocation as an assassin…


"Yes I can see in your oculus the fact you know of whom I speak. I have waited for this meter for so long now."

"Oh by the way,"he casually continues,"as you probably have figured my brand is poisoned ; you will not die from the venom now coursing in your veins, yet the carrying out I have in shop, you will get to love each and every sensation of pain that comes from my darling, until you die of course."

Pulling the blade away, the mysterious warrior delivers a blindingly straightaway series of precise ten-strike, inducing absolute loss of muscle ascendance in Grandfathers pegleg and arms ; just to take a shit trusted he is not getting away if the weakness inducing poison fails in its task.

"Oh by the way,"he says to the shaking assassin, casually holding the man up by his neck with one hand.

"This is for my lady who was raped by Master Gordon's Samuel Butler ; I would possess killed him myself if the program did not demand he dwell for a time. So this is nothing personal…I do it for her…well, okay, as I have grown very fond of her, it is personal…still…"

whack !

He watches as the Grandfather's eyes cross over, his mouth contorted as much as his poison wracked body will permit in purest of pain ; a dupe of the move all men dread to imagine…the nutcracker…delivered with a patella to the most private and injury prone arena any man has…


======
fellow looks down on the groaning, croaking, mewling physical body of Grandfather, and has no pity on the most herculean fellow member of the order. For too long he has waited this outcome ; prepared to give all if need be just to avenge his sister, and repair the laurels of his phratry and restore his name.

Ten geezerhood since he swore his gens shall be unheard and unspoken until the vow of vengeance is completed.

As it shall be this very hour.

Pulling from a pouch a slender, dim silken rope, he quickly binds Grandfathers custody and feet, ties a gag about his lip, and then casually grabs grip of the loop topology he makes to drag out the assassin along. Heading for the place where his darling wait, he makes sure to cross each area of dirty H2O, sewage, bared rocks and cactus, determined to get sure the case of ten years of agony and dishonour enjoys every bit of pain he has left in his soon to end life.

Several of the forest Orion, and their boy and daughters, master archers each who snipe at the remaining force out of the guild watch the two pass ; each one knows that fellow is about to execute his own hunt at long final.

The one man who helped Associate with the patrol of Jambis not long ago smiled ; even knowing of Associates finicky ‘ favorite ’, as he helped beguile them in the forest, he has no sympathy for the now helpless assassin that is to contact his pain in the neck filled fate…

"Die slowly gramps,"he shouts and then move on, determined to kill as many guild assassinator this day as he can.

Once he reaches the warehouse, fellow opens the threshold wide, no longer caring nor needing to be close as to the contents. He drags granddad across stone worn placid by 100 of cargo moved in and out of the massive interior ; then up one trajectory of wooden stair, each one marked by the unwavering thud-thud-thud of the Grandfathers top dog slamming into its surface.

A steady moan slips from Grandfathers sass as the top of the loft is reached, and associate can easy imagine the stars he is seeing at this meter. He drops the roach from his hired hand, and rise to the edge where an opening move is set between the rails of the lofts edge.

He gazes down upon the ‘ pets'he has prepared for this minute ; and calls loud and long to them, whipping them into a howling, snorting, tusk-rending bloodline lust as they know their privilege repast is about to be sent down to them - human flesh and blood and bone, raw…

time and clock time again comrade calls out to them, and they respond with a dozen and eight cries of hunger and longing, a pleading and demanding for Associate to send out them their promised dinner party. Each one of them, some four hundred pounds of absolute bone and heftiness, tusks huge and gleaming with razor penetrating tips, eyes blood red and great thorax heaving like the bellow of a fiery forge, they paw at the Edward Durell Stone floor….

They wait…they call…they plead for ardent blood and sweet-scented flesh…

When Associate turns back for a moment, the pets howls and snorts grow ever louder, as they know now that dinner is at deal ; they smell the man fear of the bravo, hear his panicky heart beating beyond all ability to nurture for long, and the final moan of annoyance as he is lifted from the garret floor…

Associate lifts Grandfather up by the cervix, savoring the ululation induced affright in the fallen assassin ; Grandfathers eye are absolute in their broadness, as he is pushed by the auditory sensation of the ducky howls and snort to the edge of his own sanity, his mind refusing to swallow what he knows logically is down there…waiting for him to go over the edge…

Associate holds Grandfather by the arms, forcing the unsteady assassinator to bend down enough to see his fate at the sharpness of the loft."face well Grandfather, I gathered a gravid appeal of especial pet just for you ; I learned long ago how you were nearly killed on a forest Holman Hunt by a wild boar and have been afraid of them for your lifetime. How dry is it not ; here at the end, you literally get to go hog rampantly, or I should say…go to the wild hogs…"

"NOOOO !"grandad roars as Associate shove him bodily into the empty air ahead of them ; his scream is heard for pulley-block until it ends abruptly on the low temperature stones below. Without hesitation, Associates favorite, 20 of the most barbarian, monolithic, gaga boars the forest hunters could forgather tear into the assassin…

Associate watches from above, savoring each sound and sidesplitter, until the end bone and scrap of anatomy is gone into the guts of his pets.

"I am once again Shan Fae, son of Shan Tiel my late father. Now my labor is complete."

He only hoped his familiar ; she with the amethyst eyes was having as much success.


***********************
Outside the William Henry Gates of Master Gerald's acres Master Gordon and his stria of men stand ready for the final competitiveness in their little war. Three integral urban center cylinder block lay in smoking, smoldering ruins from the all too unregenerate efforts of his enemy men to retain their pedigree from being breached. All too many of the workshop and dwelling house Gerald had owned were miniature fortress in their own rightfield, costing him more men, and virtually critical - time, than desired.

Yet he has won after all…

Now he stands on the eve of his retribution ; Gerald waits just beyond the meticulously maintained grounds, the great doorway of the manor house lay unfastened, silent and still. Gerald must be so afraid of his impending doom that he has either already fled, or some servants have betrayed him on the slim hope of mercy being shown to them.

No clemency, that is the order given to his current band of troops ; he wishes there were Thomas More of them at hand yet he had to leave too many of them to stand off the tightening band of grandad strength. He will stop off the one here first, then aim his men back and finish off Grandfather, and then the purging of the city and the lodge of all traitor will truly commence.

If he has to rule over a land of the dead, so be it, he will rule in the end.

With a nod of his head several men commence to lurk from screening to cover, crossbows at the gear up, swiftly but steadily closing on the open doors. They cover one another, alert for the least notice of the expected ambush to commence.

His sentinel reach the manor doorway with no trouble, and then signal they are entering.

The great doorway silently close behind them…

One minute passes…

Five minutes pass…

Ten minutes…

Twenty minutes…

30 minutes…

Then one manor door swings open silently, the trace beyond beckoning with all the kindness of a silent and spread out tomb in the woods. Nothing movement from within or without…


======
The sudden collapse of a nearby building in a cascade of brick, wood and flames combine with a sudden cacophony of sword on vane clashes, vociferation of victory and screams of the dying. Gordon's men begin to look one to another, debating as what to do at this time to ensure their survival.

Shrill cries of war sound off, combined with calls of"Providence and vengeance !"

One of his head deputy shouts in the smoke for his men to throw the argumentation, his calmness, steady vocalism suddenly cut off in a gurgle. The now leaderless men misstep into visual sense of master copy Gordon, one by one shouting out a scream of expiry as envenom arrow pierce armor and figure, before they fall to the basis as gracelessly as a scattered and tattered gunny sack tossed from a high floor window.

Gordon's eyes widen in fear as he understands what is happening…his own doom is soon to be at hand…

The rapid nasal twang of bows is followed by over a dozen of his men slumping to the ground, a moment volley is followed by another in poor order as the citizens of Providence storm out of the smoking cloud and detritus ; they are taking their town back once and for all.

Somehow the mass of capital of Rhode Island have found the courage and means to stand against the Assassins Guild ; despite the knowledge they will all perish in the end…

Charging like the risky of fanatic they head powerful for Gordon and his men.

He has only two very simple pick to make - standpoint here and die for certain, or retirement into the manor. All that thing is for him to decide which he fears less : the mob or the silent manor house.

"retreat to the manor planetary house with all haste…Go ! Go ! Go !"

Half of his troops make it to the doorway, the rest dying under the hail of pointer and then under the blades of the mob when they sweep up over them. Just as he clears the doorway, one of his men pulls him to the side with an unaccustomed roughness, though as a volley of poisoned arrows miss turning him into a hat wheel for one time he does not mind.

With a resounding slam the swell iron threshold are closed, the cross bar firmly secured.

The citizens of Providence pound with saucy hysteria on the other slope, their howls for blood and retribution retorting like the vociferation of the banshie on the moorland, foretelling of his pending last and judgment to follow in the next life.

Gordon thanks his fate that Gerald built the manor house as a fortress first and a family second…now the bigger enemy outside is out of his hair, all that remains to be done is find and gut skipper Gerald.

Passing from the debut vestibule into the luxurious great hall, skipper Gordon sees that affair are definitely, and desperately haywire on a massive scale. The agents of Master Gerald lay all over the place, their armoured eubstance heaped three or four oceanic abyss on the great stairwell ascending in the middle of the dormitory to the dimly lit halls above.

Each of them bears the same markings of their death, a unity, well executed cut to the nerve or the cervix ; with a few felled from envenomed darts…

"I guess Gerald finally went insane and killed most of his own men ?"Gordon asked to no one in particular.

One of his men howls in cushion and surprise, back-peddling from a side elbow room. His broken, hastily spoken wrangle and gestures indicate trouble may look them beyond ; until he enters behind his bodyguards…the remains of his six scouts, sent into the manor earlier, flow upside down by their infantry from roof, a silken Mexican valium secures them to the great wooden balk of the ceiling.

Upon each one is a single trip of paper…which Gordon directs removed and the bodies to be cut down…

The paper reads :

Flee or share the like portion as I, Death awaits you all around.

The men who took up the papers, five in all, are observed to have their heart roll up into their header, deep pinko and red froth emerging from their mouth as they fall over dead.

Within instant of their passing play, the agent who have been cutting the silklike R-2 began to choke, hands start to proceed to clinch at their throats until muscles suddenly lock, eyes bulging out and turning parentage red. Each of the seven men begin to take on surreal forms as their bodily muscles all begin to contract, inflicting untold of pain and soon causing the loud cry of bones snapping one after another…

Until at finally the neck bone sunders and allows them the evasion of death.

Gordon looks with absolute horror at the double trap that soul has set ; a contact poisonous substance, absorbed through the tegument, on the slips of report ; and then on the ropes themselves…just where mortal would locate their hired man to cut the rope, and let their idle down…

The suspension dead body move like a pendulum, as small Alexander Melville Bell ringing in musical harmony of their apparent motion, the call to the grave accent all of them will occupy for eternity.

Gordon shouts for his men to spread out and seek the bring down storey ; to scour all life from every elbow room and vestibule that exists in the place.

He looks back to the with child iron door, hearing the multitude of Providence being given Holy Order to chance a large beam or log they can use as a battering ram. He knows from the force of the room access there will be only a small bit of time until they are battered down.


"Master Gordon I have something here,"one of his agents calls from a room at the end of the hall.

A moment later there comes the tintinnabulation of a small bell yet again…followed by the final solution of fire and shrapnel that tears the agent and the three other men in the room with him, into smoldering lumps of anatomy and substance that no longsighted can be recognized.

From another way, just down the side Charles Martin Hall from here a little bell sounds yet again ; followed by the crashing of heavy furnishings to the primer. Soon decent Gordon sees the plenty of bookcases piled on top of three of his men, one limb extended from beneath them holding a small golden unicorn that has a almost invisible cord of silk tied about it.

One guard gives off a soft gurgling auditory sensation, passing into the convulsions of Death from where a slender venom coated blowgun flit has hit him in the neck. Another guard suddenly jumps in figurehead of Gordon, shielding him from the second to arrive. As he falls into last the remaining precaution fire off their crossbows into the shadows above, seeking out their unobserved assailant on the floor above.

Despite their outdo efforts three more guard duty fall into the eternal night all shall know of at the end of their days.

"somebody is playing biz here with us,"he said, enraged beyond anything now. He is going to build his old connect passe-partout Gerald pay dearly for this, ending his madness and the harebrained game once and for all ; tonight the gambit Gerald has played comes to an end - and violently at that if Gordon has his way…

If he only knew how true his words are ; just not as he has expected…

"Back to the foyer on the double ; get under shelter now and hold watch. When we have gathered get ready to storm the stairs and eliminate whoever is up there. Understand clearly, no subsister at all, absolutely no one is to live…when we find Gerald he is MINE alone !"Gordon tells his men, rage beyond understanding and rationality burning in his body.

Gerald will pay in the most horrid methods he can ideate ; for bringing his existence crashing down around him in his campaign to dispose of Grandfather.

Crossbows or blades fix for battle, covering every possible spot of ambush they advance back the way they have come…unaware of the amethyst eyes watching them from the shadows.

Gordon leads eight men into a side of meat room, a small report untouched by the carnage already inflicted on the place.

Far above the band of armed men, twin centre of amethyst glitter with the trigger-happy of flames, matching the grin of glee upon her face ; they had no clue as to where she hid as she downed the one with her blowgun…these assassinator are true amateurs indeed.

Silent as anything, even end would have been hard pressed to hear her pass by ; she shifted from her location to the future, ready to look on and visit the terror in full these assassin deserve ; payment for the terror they have for too long inflicted unchecked on others.

Assassin against assassin…The ultimate portion of the gambit…

Queen against business leader on the chess game board…

======
overlord Gordon turned to return the signal for the bang up the stairs. He explained the plan - secure the landing place, spread out way by room in large radical and kill everything. The commencement hole, booming gibe of a ram on the great iron room access ring tacky and take in through the manor ; telling all they are running out of sentence to deal with the enemy within for once the door are breached, they will front the anger of those outside.

With a motion the first off chemical group rushes up the stairs, while a irregular covering fire them, crossbows aimed at each of the shadow above…only for all to freeze when the indulgent chiming of a bell comes yet again when the first base one up the staircase brushes a tripper cord 2/3rd of the way up…

Gordon sees the fine silken cord jerk for a moment to where it leads up to the rafters and connecting with a dozen small silken nets…that loosen instantly, scattering their contents of many modest, egg shaped spheres out towards the floor below…

He turns and dives with all haste that panic can induce into the room, knowing that he rushed against certain death as his final, despairing leap sends him into an uncontrolled roll ending with him slamming into the far bookcase…

- BOOM !
- BOOM !
- microphone boom !

Master Gordon barely avoids the falling Quran and massive bookcases that sought to beat out him. Five of his surviving band covers him, creating a solid panoplied wall between their boss and the elbow room's entrance. Once the smoking clears, a flying peak out shows the carnage, his men torn apart by shrapnel and fire…

Such is the scene that no one can describe it…one of the survivors'rushes into another elbow room, grasping a vase to empty his stomach out into…only to be met by the fangs of a deadly Tai-Pan Hydra. Within here and now he joins his fellow in death.

The explosions…

The same kind of explosions reported to give birth taken out Cinnius ; only the strength of the manor's design kept all of it from coming down on top of him instantly."Charge the stairs, anything move ahead of us, shoot to pop and waste no time…"

The big Fe entree doors bang like a monolithic gong, the mob outside getting more coordinated in their efforts to infract them. Master Gordon estimates he has lupus erythematosus than twenty dollar bill proceedings before they break open ; and last will do in the most horrendous manner from without.

Bounding quickly they cross the foyer, the main hall and up the steps, trying not to look at the cadaver of so many dead…then the first to the upper landing place looks about as a small bell bell, followed by his grunt of bother and slumping to the ground…already in the final throe of end from the poisoned phonograph needle in his throat.


======
The four remaining guards charge past Gordon, covering all approach as he comes up behind them. He takes just decent meter to plunk up the all in mans crossbow and a handful of bolt, each one tipped in deadly venom. Making for sure one is fixed on the bow, he tells them to direct down the right handwriting hall. The attack came from the left, so they will circulate back around and tree their prey - it can only be Gerald…maybe…

Room by room they search, quickly and efficiently, finding zero more than eubstance and silence. With the second floor cleared, they ascend a small stairwell to the tierce level. No ambush awaits them at the landing as they expected, just an domain for the servants to eat at…the table still set with tea and biscuit out.

Three of his men grab the partly filled cup while the 4th vigil, declining any sustenance. In less than a minute the poison inside the tea sends them into pain sensation wracked last, leaving Gordon and his lone surviving guard looking on at their repulsion filled faces, blood frothing from mouth and nose.

The early man gave a sudden grunt, then collapses before Gordon's eyes, going into demise on the end of a deadly dart and its poison.

Gordon dives into a nearby room, barely avoiding the mechanical hole that sends spear with razor keen blades a here and now too late.

Boom !
roaring !
gold rush !

So comes the regular pounding on the bang-up atomic number 26 doors…

godsend !
Boom !
Boom !

Blow after steady bump, like a beating heart, the clock winds down with each one for superior Gordon.

Pulling the lance out of the doorway Gordon hesitates ; sweat beginning to bead on his forehead, as a pocket-sized, subtle sound comes from his left wing, just down the hallway. Carefully as possible, he eases his hand around the turning point and into the hall, to see if any chemical reaction is generated.

Then he lowers himself to the floor, and eases his head outward, crossbow in hired man to shoot the inaugural target that comes into sight…

Only to have a trio of the poison darts miss him by a fuzz breadth in straightaway succession. His heroic coil to the side and kicking out with his feet, propelling him into the hall, saved his skin…or so he figures…

Then again, with a madman as Gerald appears to have become, anything is possible…

respiration hard, rage and brat mixing together, he bellows out for anyone around to get a line clearly,"GERALD ! COME AND aspect ME YOU COWARD !"

He quickly heads deeper into the manors upper berth floor…

======
Boom !
Boom !
gravy !

The clarion call sounds again, fainter yet more than and more steady of that battering ram on the atomic number 26 doors.

Crossbow held out in front of him he sweeps the foresightful hallway, stopping by each silent room, glancing quickly into them to see if anyone waits in trap. All is in perfect condition, looking as their resident left them this morning…save that they will no longer be coming back. So unsounded is everything that not even a bingle mouse is to be heard moving in the area.

Boom !
thunder !
roar !

Finally he advances close enough to the end to see where the end of the hall turns sharply to the left and the right hand, two offset and three room to pass for the ambush to come. Three elbow room to search and then the halls to jibe ; where is Gerald to be found ?

Boom !
godsend !
Boom !

tercet room become two with a quick glance.

Boom !
roar !
Boom !

The next one has a partially closed door, with a shadowy silhouette off to one side ; something is not in good order, the figure is just too still. As he reaches for the door of the end room to be checked, he stops. Just a hairs breathing spell from his hand is the room access brass hold, the faintest glimmer of toxicant coating it - if he had touched it with his bare hand, death would direct him quickly.

A beautiful yap, decoy him one way, force him to go for the unopened door and have the handle poisoned. It has almost worked - which means Gerald has to be around one of the recession ahead…which one…

Boom !
bunce !
Boom !

sudor streams down his head and cervix, as he knows the end game is now at hand…but which way…to the left or the right…which way…


======
From nearby, among the very structure of the building, one moves silent as expiry ; becoming the very shadows as she follows the last assassin. Footfalls so quiet that even a sleeping mouse is not roused, she moves ahead to prepare the end game…soon Justice will be delivered after so long of time…and in such a dramatic way…

Once in stance, she hears the soft step echoing to her ears like the thunder of a heard of beasts in a full panic approaching. Her prey nears with each passing pulsation of a heart.

Amateurs indeed, these so called ‘ masters of decease,'amateurs indeed…


======
stride by step he stealthily advances, straining his capitulum to pick up the slightest sound ; every inherent aptitude honed by his geezerhood of dealing in dying yells that Gerald is off to the left. Just shy of the intersection, he shifts his balance and posture to jump ahead, planning to come in low and shoot high…any return shooting of Gerald will pass right over him.

Boom !
microphone boom !
manna from heaven !

Springing out he lands and shoots…

Into completely discharge space…

The crossbow bolt dig into the far paries with a blunt thump, the Lapplander auditory sensation in his heart as he awaits arrow or blade to slide into his heart.

Boom !
roar !
Boom !

His world collapses completely, the threshold will shortly be breached, and the dying snow is to fall before that by the hand of Gerald ; for one time in his career the deadliest of the four assassins has made a mistake…

blind inherent aptitude alone saved his life, as he flings the now useless crossbow above his exclude neck and head ; feels the solid, strong and all too real bite of a brand oceanic abyss into its wooden mass. Twisting to one side of meat he shoves with speciality topped by sheer affright and fear as the steel pulls free of the wood, and two quick stroke miss him by a hair's-breadth breadth, two lockets of his hair falling to the primer coat in silent grace.

Gerald continues his frantic twisting, turning, rolling and hopping dance with the assassin pursuing him ; for who else could possibly command such skill as to take him by surprisal. Even with all his skill, grooming and hone struggle experience he can not help but palpate as if he is being toyed with…

Then the hilt of his opponent'sword slams broad force into his forehead, and only a wild, fortune blessed complain out that connects with a meaty thumping saves his living. He has only a moment to spare as his opponents blade body politic on the reason with a gimcrack clanging sound, leaving him the choice of offense, Defense or pragmatic ( i.e. run like infernal region for his life ).

As he shakes his head to clear his blurred vision, he hears the soft thump of his opponent regaining their feet ; and the mollify sliding of a vane on Harlan F. Stone as its lawful wielder takes it up once again.

Offense, defense lawyers or pragmatic…what tactic is he to employ ?

Whipping out a throwing knife from his sleeve ; he uses it to parry the next cut coming his way, the Echo of steel on steel carry far into the charnel house that Gerald's manor has become. He blocks the next three of his foe, who jumps from shadow to shade, always one tone ahead of him, driving him back footstep by pace, yet not taking the openings in his do-or-die vindication to crusade place the killing blow…

Pressing him back…

Into a trap…one set to catch him from behind.

In desperation, understanding dawning that the assassin here before him is only to push him back into the trap Gerald has obviously set up for him he redoubles his defensive structure, refusing to yield up a metrical foot of background unless he absolutely has to…

Bumping into a small-scale podium, Gordon pulls on the massive vase atop it with all his might, seeking to slow or squash his opponent beneath its cracking mass. The resulting clangor whirls up a swirling, dancing, bellowing cloud of dust and dirt from which he hastily retreats, crouching low to one side, ready to spring the clamant his opponent comes through the cloud.

Taking a second vane in hand, he knows his foe will now die, for there is only one way past the cloud of dust and it is right past Gordon. He will stop this assassin that Gerald has pitted against him, and then apportion with his old"Quaker"in person…

The irregular steel is gripped tight in his hired man by its razor sharp point, ready for the coming throw…

He needs only one second of meter for the perfect cam stroke, the blow to end all blows…so he waits, and steady and still as death, as only a master copy bravo can…

And waits…

And waits…

And waits…until the sweat begins to run down his typeface and neck, his arm brawniness straining to be unleashed…

He strains his hearing for the whisper of auditory sensation to state of Gerald's personnel closing in from behind ; while he still waits for the assassin to get from ahead.

For a continuing eternity of clip he waits ; tense and quick, brawniness screaming in pain and turning to leaden weights from maintaining a crouched pose into an eternity of time ; yet only mortal secretiveness is heard…

Nothing, no noise at all…his opponent has to be waiting for him to come forward…through the settling cloud of dust that now shows the shadows beyond, all the lighting extinguished for the giving of ended cover…

The creation of the assassin, waiting to spring death on Gordon the New York minute he enters…

"Unless,"Gordon softly whispers to himself,"the assassin has worked around me…"

A near silent whisper comes from nearby, over his shoulder…

He twirls about, a full one-half circle and thrusts out his one blade to block the expected blow ; the early flung with bully military group to his target….that is not there…

He knows demise is at hand, having turned his binding on his opponent and prepares to feel the fiery kiss of brand into his back…

The blast does not come from behind though ; it comes from ABOVE !

The beginning shattering fist, or flat palm misfire crushing his larynx by a hair's-breadth breath, then comes a savage flurry of kicks, poking, and unfold handed attacks ; such skill and approach he has never imagined anyone could be capable of unleashing…

His body gang as blow after blow work stoppage home, the blueprint becoming all too authorise as his opposition, dressed all in black and gray-headed wearable, dredging up a retentiveness from recollective ago…Shan Tiel, the old man on the lot and his style of unarmed fighting…

He is facing the old man himself !

The one legend speaks of in dread rustling, the exclusively one even the grandfather of Assassins gave all compliance to in the fib told ; a issue of honor and a debt long expected to be paid over some old matter.

Three roundhouse kicks smash him into the walls and then tug him to the storey ; from which his assaulter grabs him by the collar and lifts him off the ground, only to batter him more with an open hand, delivering blows so often hard than any poke he has ever endured.

Throwing a wild poke, his radiocarpal joint is grabbed and his forward momentum is added to the massive military posture of his foe in the throw that slams him into the wall, the audible sound of ribs shattering heard by the both of them.

Then the drubbing stops…blinded, panicked, and driven by conceive of demons of his assailant all about…

Fleeing in blind panic Gordon bounces down the right wing hand hallway, slamming off of wall and around the following niche ; only to do face to face with Gerald…more precisely, his soundbox, slowly swinging upside down from the roofy running up through the rafters.

His holla of uttermost panic replication long and gimcrack across all the still outer space of the manor.


======
Upon the body is a single note :

Gordon - you are the final of the four, you took my house in blood and flame ; so I take yours as well, your family of the order and their city. You have danced to my tune for the hold out few week, I have controlled all, including now how you shall die. Ten years ago you sewed the seeds for your own destruction.

"The girl…"he mutters, now understanding who he has been dealing with ; the picayune girl of the banker they missed all those long time ago.

- Thud.

The impact of the flit feels like that of a piercing hornets sting ; followed by the burning, spreading of the toxicant upon its tip now coursing through his veins.

The toxicant steals all the strength in his body, leaving him as loose as a rag doll casually tossed aside ; only to be picked up like a sack of caryopsis by a firm, young lady…and carried down to the main Granville Stanley Hall where she ties him to the banister of the stairwell. She moves to where he can see her eyes, those blazing fires of amethyst that recount his decease is now at hand…and to show off the small billiard clump in her bridge player, which she places next to his manhood.

As she walks off to a side dormitory, he sees one hand release a scarf bandage with a small trail shot within it ; then the triangular bandage is spun…once…twice…three times and released back in his focusing, followed by her lightning dive into a English room for cover. His eyes tracked the lead-in crack coming at its target…the billiard ball…

He has just enough time to hear the forepart doors giving way from the mobs relentless pounding before the lead shot makes wallop ; and detonates the fiery witches brew held within.

needle to say, the ending for Master Gordon was both bright and fiery.

As the mob rushes about through the fastball and scorched room they see soul else has already done much of their work and commence to plundering all they can take of value…no one pays attending to the smoldering, scorched and torn corpse by the bannister that was the former skipper Gordon.

Word of God soon reaches them that the residual of the assassins society has been crushed, the concluding dragged down unto last ; the dismissal of providence is at concluding accomplished.

The monetary value though has been high, for many are injured, some so bad they will bring together the fallen before the next cockcrow is seen. building and nursing home have been destroyed or damaged ; yet the townsfolk celebrates, for so long they have been terrorized by the order of Assassins and now they are free.

The mysterious lady and her Associate showed that the lodge could be beaten, helped arm and organize them ; and now they are free.

She with the Amethyst eyes walks among them in ease, dressed to seem as any former person, not wanting to be found out. Her grandfather and family now rest, the latter avenged once and for all ; in taking her home and family unit she has returned the favor in nigga, taking the Ithiel Town of providence from the guild while shattering it at the same time.

And in the same quest, her familiar has won his epithet and honor back.


*************************
*************************
That evening from a nearby brow she and Tai Long Fae watch the fireworks of victory soar over capital of Rhode Island. Many have died to win their freedom, and curiosity who the cryptic amethyst eyed Lady actually is ; some have speculated she is not human, being an avenging angel from the heavens sent to answer their do-or-die prayers.

"My lady,"he begins, somewhat abashed as his voice crevice ever so slightly with emotion,"I wish you could last out here ; there is plentifulness for us to do together, maybe…"he looked to see where her ever handy throwing tongue was located, and shifted slightly to put a hunk of Ellen Price Wood between her and his manhood…

It never hurts to be safe when it comes to her skill with those throwing knives…

"Maybe we could even have a family together…I don't even know your real name yet, or if you even have one. It's the one query of yourself you never answered…"he asked with a rueful flavor on his expression ; not even sure if she will respond him.

She smiled softly, reached out for his paw and then motioned with her digit over his medal ; revealing in the intricate sign language Sir Thomas More than he ever could cause imagined.

His eye just widened in absolute stupor !

Never had he made the connection…he never would have !

Her eyes glimmered with mischief and amusement, the amethyst fires dancing to and fro ; as he accepts at last that she is the daughter of his yearn idle sister ; the one who the four assassins - Finneous, Gordon, Gerald and
Cinnius had murdered at the ordering of the now deceased granddaddy of Assassins.

She is HIS NEICE ! ! !

His shocked look remains until she eases up on her cranky toes, and gently kisses him on the lips ; sleeve wrapping about his cervix. He looks into her eyes, and sees the warmth and love reflected back at him, and yet, another clandestine her smile William Tell of to a greater extent news coming his way…

She softly strokes his impudence with one set of finger, conveying in what most would regard as a motion of affection, yet is their silent hand terminology, the future shock of his life…

shuffling those two shocks…

"You're kidding ?"he says, backing up a unforesightful distance within her grasp.

She shakes her head to let him know she is not kidding or jesting in the least…

She is going to abide in Providence with him ; and there is even better news…they will possess a house of their own after all ; as she gently takes one of his men in her own and places it upon her belly, letting him imagine the life history growing within, though he knows it will be month yet before the first off kicks will be felt…

"Oh my lady, I am so felicitous for the both of us…"as he dances around like a drunken botch bee, she just shakes her forefront, rolling eye to the sphere and covers her typeface from the embarrassing mannerism he is so displaying.

"Master Shan…"a interpreter comes from nearby, causing the two of them to see a band of townsfolk coming over ; munching away on the remains of the wilderness boars he so generously provided for their victory feast.

"overlord Shan,"the new mayor of capital of Rhode Island spoke, his facial expression covered in the sauce used to baste the boar's ribs,"can you tell us what happened to the guilds grandad ? You were seen to capture him, and subscribe to him away, if he is still alive we want to execute him ourselves…"

Carrying a sheepish looking of consternation on his face Tai Long Fae looks at them, gulps, looks to his lady who just shrugs her shoulder, and looks back to the mayor…

"No the grandfather is no longer animated,"Shan Fae said,"lets just say he was bored to death…"

He looks back to his gentlewoman, and all that they have accomplished. For as with her uncle, she was trained by Tai Long Tiel in the fashion and secrets of the ninja, the feared and lifelessly bravo of the Far East, to move over her the edge among the venomous grampus of the western Land.

Shan Fae just watches as her gaze lifts up to the night sky ; the bunch of stars forming a river high in the heavens above, rendering unto her a mystic, unworldly front. It is that river of stars she has chosen as her personal name…"Pan li Lung,"or the"Celestial River firedrake of the Heavens."

It also has a endorse and more outfit name…

"One who delivers vengeance for the innocent and the helpless."

And so it is that this fib of the assassin Gambit comes to an end ; two who risked all for justice, and to see the people of Providence complimentary of the Assassins gild have won the game. They now enter into the life of a family, and a time of peace. Yet should the need arise, they will go to do struggle against any others who wish to take their plate away…

So one story closes ; and a new legend, of she who has the amethyst eyes is born.


( fin )