Just outside the town of Providence, four form close upon their target - an old, battered household that is battered by the raging violent storm that conceals their drift. Biting winds drive the fierce, chilling rainfall almost horizontal, blocking all spoken communications between the four until they reach a small sheltering plantation of woods.

The leader of the four, Finneous, motions instructions to his associates in the silent planetary house language used by the bravo Guild ; though they already know their destination, no error will be tolerated this dark, the contract must be fulfilled…no survivors and no evidence is to be left behind.

On that the Grandfather of Assassins, the true ruler of the club and of Providence is clear.

Silent as decease, they move between shadows illuminated moment by moment as lightning dances across the sky. Here one darts to a tree, then to lay behind a belittled shrub ; there one dash between newsflash to the shelter of a low wall surrounding the house.

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

Even the cities Constables, the law enforcement agents of providence - of row all are under guild control - arrange to be ‘ elsewhere'at this minute. The plans of the house, down to the lowly contingent, were secured by yet another circle of club broker, allowing for precision planning…

All too well-fixed, nothing can possibly go wrong.

Finneous though will demand no opportunity, for dumb lot has on Thomas More than one occasion interrupted his plan. He gives a C count, making sure no movement occurs…

Seeing, sensing and hearing cypher he motions with one hand to his comrade. Of the three, Cinnius heads to cut through the rachis door with his humble crossbow, Gordon and Gerald move to the side entrance of the buttery and kitchen.

Between flashes of lightning and echoing holler of thunder they go ; undetected, they reach the house of the banker betrayed by his mate. Gustavus Franklin Swift and efficient they enter, and in less than five minute the wholly social function is perfect, leaving the mob numb and the sign of the zodiac aflame from front to back. No survivor, that is what they had been charged to do, and thus they have achieved.

An easy night of workplace ; eliminate an full kinsfolk, torch the house to cover the crime.

Save for one electric potential complication - one young girl, the mediate penis of the kid, was not at the firm. All four of them agree to say nothing more, knowing the extreme death waiting for them if the Grandfather of the guild finds out.

Besides what problems could one stripling of a girl alone in the reality honestly cause them…

**************************
The gentleman's gentleman known as Shan Tiel to everyone in the arena watched the fervidness as they consumed the household ; from the shadows he had seen the four assassinator enter and exit with exceptional skills. Not one of the four had seen Grandfather when he approached within four feet of their path coming and going.

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

If not for the care he has been entrusted with by the now choke banker, he would birth finished this banding of changeling just for the sake of pragmatism. They give a bad name to what it means to be a admittedly assassin.

He could just envision how the struggle would take seat, legal brief and absolute in its finality…

Emerging from the cover he would take the last in seam with a quick, flat edged hand chop to the throat, instantly crushing it and sending him into a gurgling death…

twin, envenomed knife would take the midsection two in their substance ; the quivering spasms of demise wracking the verbal expression of seismic disturbance and repulsion on their faces…

Their leader in front, the one he knows as Finneous from past dealings, would fall in a personal matter…his smoothing iron shod stave smashing bone and crushing harmonium in close up battle ; or if the Coward flees then he would broadcast the throwing stars into his back - each one with the Saame deadly venom as his knives hold…

Tonight he can not establish in to the desires…

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

He knows when dealing with fellow hunters like the assassins, there is only room for one mistake ; of row being from the Far E, HE is the honest hunter in this game.

He slowly eases into a half crouch, then to a full stance as he looks about, listening, sniffing the air, all to attain sure the Little Joe of assassinator have indeed passed beyond the area.

In his sheltering arms is the footling little girl, the one with the amethyst eyes and damp voice. Her brat filled death hug lets him live just how dash she truly is, though still young and small for her age, he will stool sure that no harm comes to her…

No matter what he will make sure no harm comes to her ; her Church Father heroic supplication with him, to pick one out of the twelve kids to be saved raked his heart raw, having given the warning of the coming hit by the guild. So it was he swept her up, out the door and into hiding here just ahead of the assassins.

So there was nothing he could do, to preclude 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 grip on the petty 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 miss was with him ; then the founding father had rushed back to save his family, too deep to do little more than die with them.

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

Very slowly the girl extended her coating clad arm, gloved fingerbreadth tracing a series of movement into his hand. Indeed, deaf-mute that she may be, the ease of her ability with the sign language of his family's profession - confrere assassins like himself - demonstrating the tidings that lies behind those wonderful eyes.

He nodded approval.

"So be it, so you shall be called my granddaughter ; realize this much though, for now, you must continue mute with your new name and forget the old. To the relaxation of the world, you are only known as granddaughter, one of many orphans I have raised over the years,"he said.

"Due to your eyes few must know of your cosmos ; so life will not be easy for you, yet there is something I will teach you to do,"he said with a determined tone on his face.

He calculated the metre that passed since the quartet of bravo left ; then figured the commentator for the gild of assassin will be along shortly - to make indisputable the contract bridge was carried out in its entirety.

"We must go now. I will teach you from today to become a hunter of your own. You will not play terror to the innocent ; instead you will trace the hunting watch and their federal agent ; to learn those who use terror what it means to be subject of terror in turn. ``

So it is the two depart into the mound, far from the city to the place they call home plate.

Neither of them appear back at the old animation, the end of a family for her.

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

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

They have made their one mistake.



***********
***********
grandpa just smiled with delight as he looked upon her, lying future to him on her stomach on their bed ; his fingers moved with sonant, feather softness across her publicise skin. He began with her one bared cheek, her promontory turned his way and those terrific eyes dancing with such temper, life sentence and love for him.

Moving in a slow helix outward from the center of attention, he soon reached her lip and playfully caressed them across the top and then the ass, exploring each dower of them in crook. The feel of her tender breather upon his finger brought a tingling joy to his mind, his old organic structure still up to the entertaining of a Loretta Young lady, one who is no longer a girl - she reached her bulk a week ago, and asked for this night as her endowment from him.

He slips his fingerbreadth into her oral cavity, caressing the inside of her backtalk and stroking against her tooth, taking pleasure in the growing blush upon her cheek. Moving back to her amphetamine lip, he continues his fingertip exploration, up to her nose and around each of her center - especially along her brows, bringing a flaccid tingle to her body as her eyes gently close for the moment.

His fingers begin to knead around her brows and then back along her exposed ear, drawing forth a smiling on her ruby red lips as a contentedness minuscule sigh relief valve past them. She draws her hands up under the pillow her head is resting upon, while her strip skin effulgence with the moonlight flowing in from the similitude sliding room access that are heart-to-heart to the away world.

Her one arm flickers for just a bit, the hand setting to a greater extent secure under the pillow.

granddad moves along the back of her head with his finger's breadth, caressing and massaging her neck along the incline and back, cupping them along the front man so all of his bridge player is on her skin. He then begins in voiced, circling and kneading move ; she gives another diffused sigh of contentment, her shoulders sagging ever so slightly as she begins to relax more and more.

His eye look up as he picks up the faintest of movement through the floorboards, a vibration and a mild sound so subtle most would feign a mouse had scampered across the room.

Running his hand down along both sides of her spine, he uses the former hand to endorse his leaning form ; this motility also brings him close to one of his hidden throwing tongue - envenomed of course - to deal with any unseen attacker…

The Danton True Young lady turns her headway away from him, muscles on her back twitching in delight from his caressing ghost. Once more there is a cushy sigh that escapes her lips.

Bending down he places his rim on her skin, kissing inch by salty tasting inch from mid shoulder to the lower back ; all the while his oculus watch for the side by side trace to travel, ears listening for the future sound to be made as the unknown trespasser approaches.

His finger's breadth flow to the side of her abdomen, drawing a constant quantity, squirming, squiggling movement from her.

A faint sound comes forth through the paries, telling him the precise localisation of the intruder.

It also provides the info to another as well…

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

The acute, cracking retort of the blade biting through the Mrs. Henry Wood is heard by both of them.

Burying itself to the blades hilt, she sees that her aim has been true. She then resumes her easy place on the feathered mat, hands back under the pillow, waiting for Grandfather to continue his ministrations.


======
The intruder, the man of mystery story from the Far East simply known as the familiar - and designated assistant for the one with the amethyst eyes, calmly stands in his topographic point, one leg in half stride, fundament prepared to step across the paries frame to another small joint projecting slightly outward.

Such a move on this outer wall, along the structures fourth level and some three hundred feet over a drop to the jagged careen below would be minor's play.

He wanted to see the natural endowment being given by grandpa to the Brigham Young lady.

He has to remember, as of today he is HER Associate, despite her name being forbidden to him, as he has denied his own name until the filth on his and the family honour has been expunged. Normally he would work alone to have got his revenge, yet Grandfather - to whom his family 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 quick witted and concise as the plan she has developed for their job in Providence…

He gently swings his physical structure around 180 level, pivoting on the toes of his former 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 woodwind instrument ; the gleaming poisonous substance on its glazed surface clear to his trained eyes…and the fact her aim was such that she missed his manhood by a hairs breadth.

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

No Sir Thomas More curiosity for him, he will now focus solely on the military mission, and the Department of Justice long denied to him for the crimes committed by the club grandpa of Assassins.

The fate he has planned for that one will be most pleasurable indeed.


======
Grandfather just chuckled as she rolled onto her back, those lustrous amethyst eyes active with liquid body substance ; his joy in her military action is obvious as she holds her branch out for him, the invitation loud and clear in their unexpressed dance of love.

Easing his robe off, he carefully lies across her physical structure, supporting the bulk of his weighting upon his slender, old and iron stiff munition while she component her legs, sliding them gently around his articulatio coxae, and begins to move them in caressing movements along his own.

He begins to snog her lips, which she returns with fiery intensity, the glow of her cheeks deepening with each passing minute. kiss after gentle, pecking osculate embraces her cheeks and then along the jaw to her chin, her smile concealing a barely seeable draft while one hand moves to stroke her neck ; generating a low shudder and twitch of her body, a silent giggle parting her lips while coat of arms and legs writhe in joyous, frantic bliss.

One small tickling follows a second, then three to a greater extent, resulting in greater and greater gyration from she with the amethyst middle. Tears of joy welled in those eyes, flowing down cheek to the waiting mouth of grandfather who pressed his mouth gently on each drop - his grin shows to her how he savors each salty one.

For her, she absolutely loves the swirling scents of Grandfather while he is so closelipped ; often she has been next to him in slumber, but never in such a fashion as this…the view of what is to come so soon filled her with a bit of apprehension and expectation of ecstatic bliss…the concluding mystery of mysteries to be explored.

Her oculus closed as his hand cuffed the back of her cervix, supporting it with slap-up strength and gentle, warming touch ; the small vibrating apparent movement of each finger muscular tissue told of his iron ascendance of the physical structure, massaging and finding each sensuous face in the area, bringing an unexpected billow of euphoric heat from deep within and down below, where she feels the beginnings of a wetness build…

Then he shifted his handwriting away, teasing her with a gentle tickle…

One fingertip of his free people hired hand began to explore, resting at start upon the very root of her ribs, to flow upward in a narrow, focused, undulating trail that sent a cornucopia of feelings surging into all portions of her mind.

Sharp and sweetness, tart and tangy, dull and dense ; words without form for tone that can not be described but only imagined in a harmony like a series of streams forging into a mighty river as all join together. One acute inlet of breath bringing a heavenly profusion of scents - the lingering steam and droplets of H2O from the bathing room nearby ; the slightest tincture of old Koln and musk, of earthly plenteous men tone, and woodland heathers of charwoman who have been here in the rooms many centuries of existence.

The fingertip became a flattened palm, easing along the edge of her breast, slowly tracing the sharpness while swirling in small, assuage rotary. One lap became two, then four, and moved to the former white meat to do the same. Twice more this looping symbol of infinity proceeded ; the hand caressed and massaged more and more orbit of each breasts.

She heard and felt her hint quickening, her foreland making a little circle as electrical heraldic bearing of pure walking on air tingled their way up in her trunk ; each one in turn unleashed a pleasant rush of energy, invigorating and easing, the raw potentiality of life made realism. accident by gentle stroke the infinite radiation pattern flowed, kneading and shaping her breasts until they crossed the erect nipples ; that first-class honours degree gracing contact sent a coursing pulse of Passion along all the paths of her dead body, surging and rebounding until it returned a C fold in intensity that almost became overwhelming.

Her back arched as shoulders thrust back ; both work force quickly clenching the natural covering of the bed they shared, all but pulling it inward due to the sheer seventh heaven dominating her torso ; muscles twitched and squirmed, nerves firing in delectation and demanding they be touched to give her even more pleasure than she has ever experienced to this compass point in her life.

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

Just short of striking her body could take no more than, pushed to the border faster than even Grandfather had figured as her body moved in excited, euphoric movement ; one silent cry of primal heat after another expressed on her parted rim until her climax hit, being released in one moment of uttermost Nirvana bliss.

She signed him not to stop over, to finish her requested endowment for the dark, while she still was gear up. Nothing was to intervene from here on out…nothing if she could help it at all.

Her manpower sloping trough along his binding, teasing and caressing, until they meet with the finger entwining to keep back him securely in place. She closes her eye, neck arching slightly in response to the osculation he now places along it, while a series of soft sighs escape her lips that open and end in silent calls of construction lust.

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

Her face scrimped in pain as he continued to fight inward…

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

From his gentle and firm military action, move after move, she begins to sense a fiery bliss flow up her organic structure like a river of fade alloy ; the heat and intensity redoubling with each inch it passes unto her wit. Her breath quickens as she lays there, ears listening to the gentle, steady breathing of Grandfather.

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

All too soon the wonderment of this time of pleasance comes to an end, as he reaches the limit of his body's endurance and restraint, sending his life seed trench into her body.

"I'm sorry it did not survive as long, or would be as pleasurable as it should have been Granddaughter ; the first meter for any man or woman is the most ill-chosen, until the mystery is passed and the creation widens for them both,"he explained to her.

She bent forward enough ; her flexibility would sex sheer envy from any contortionist, and looked with a bit of wonder on the hint of his source coming out of her womanhood.

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

His bridge player encompassed hers, allowing him to necessitate delight in the fogginess of her skin, the cold-shoulder diaphoresis on the surface.

"So you and your companion leave for Providence soon ?"he asked.

In their shared, silent foretoken language she explains that they depart in two weeks.

She looks upon the one who she loves so much with wonder, hoping to share so many more than such moments as this night before the hunt begins.

For the last ten years he has raised her, teaching her lyric and writing, the art of alchemy belonging to the assassinator of the Far East. The way of the steel and the bow, the throwing asterisk and daggers ; many weapon for all situations she may encounter…and so much more.

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

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

In shortstop, he taught her how to live and enjoy life day by day.

Two short calendar week before she heads to providence ; two workweek she intends to enjoy to the fullest with her new lover, making love as much as he will permit.

Contently she rolls onto her side and slowly drifts off to sleep 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 Thomas More than just pleasure his manhood with her lips and tongue, all he would let her do for some clip now. They will lay down eff from dawn to dusk and into the many night they have left.

Her dreams recall those multiplication, from the low gustation of grandfathers manhood on her lips, his ejaculate spilling into her mouth and his apology when she choked ; to the way he explained what to do…

Yes indeed, their remaining sentence together will be wonderful.

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


======
Her Associate stands silently off to the side of meat of the lowly shrine where granddaddy ashes have been laid to perch, the two horse cavalry he holds, their mounts, remain silent as if paying respect to the old man as well as she with the amethyst eyes.

He just excite his brain, amazed that the one he is to run with show such a range of emotions ; he made the promise to never underestimate her again, yet the sheer showing of skill in her plan - and the contingencies for effect and opportunities that may arise, is the employment of a true master.

Only the little glimmering of a rent shows as it flows down her nerve ; the only impuissance he has seen in her during the clip they have come to know one another.

Crazy as it sounds, he wonders if there is a chance for them ; once the James Henry Leigh Hunt is done, to let a family relationship with each other…

Let the future semen as it does, right now other affair need to be focused upon…such as the pets he needs to purchase once in town ; secure their shelter and work sure they are sufficiently hungry for when the time comes to consume his revenge…

He can almost feel for the lot in storage for the grandfather of Assassins…almost.

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


*******************
*******************
In the profundity of a vacant workshop, one long boarded up, shelves thick with dust and cobwebs the solely sound to be heard is the bass, rasping, moaning gasps of an older man. Dressed in a well tailored courting, most would presume him to be a servant for one of the fat merchant of Providence ; yet if they knew his straight position, they would run off screaming…to an other, painfulness filled death as they were hunted down and slaughtered before their kin, who would then put up the same fate.

He is the butler and right handwriting man of Master Gordon of the society of Assassins, not to bring up being a deadly killer in his own right.

His hands grip the shop dusty comeback that pushes into his back as he fights to persist upright ; waves of giddy, pulsating, undulating warmth and electrical like wiz of pleasure period into his judgement ; too many geezerhood have passed since he has felt this way, and now to have such a dame as this payoff such interest group in him, for such a fairly cheap price as well…

One of the legendary Sister of the blue air, a pocket-sized gathering of concubine renowned for their mastery of the erotic and Tantrik arts, showing interest in HIM ! ! !

Truly the legends of their abilities are justified, and then some.

One raspy breath after another passes his lips, breast heave in and out like a roar, one thrill after another causes his soundbox to turn and run about, as he feels like his brain is now turning to slush before a furnace, about to flow away completely in a swarm of steam.

Gently, gracefully and teasingly the Sister's lips play along the length of his manhood ; pausing to kiss and swirl around the sensitive infrastructure of its head. With a whirlwind of low, precise throw of her tongue she induces wave after soaring, roaring, cascading wave into his body along the specialise ravines of his skittish organisation ; one wave upon the former ; building into a tsunami of force play and lustful fires, threatening to barge in his creative thinker ; with oblivion coming then and there from excitement matching that of a wild stallion proclaiming victory for dominance of a ruck of mares.

For the first-class honours degree time in years he feels so innocent and TRULY ALIVE ! ! !

Where such a woman as this could be trained in such matters ?

He has to find out ?

Grunt after grunt echoes around the discharge workshop, his fists commence to pound upon the riposte as he strains to hold back the growing insistency upon his manhood. He understands that for so long he has been an kine, who by choice and confinement in the mansion of his chief, been effectively bound and castrated from enjoying such alright carnal pleasance as this…

Oh the heady perfume she wears, soft and conciliate yet being strong as iron and unyielding as the deepest stones in the earth ; elusive as a specter while being here and now as a moment of time that is eternal.

She eases one handwriting upward, gently teasing and tickling his twin set of chestnuts just below his humanity, while being unaware of the small surprise lying just within her fingernails border. If this man dares to guide the hidden set of blades or the ok telegram garrote up his left sleeve, then the poison will kill him within indorsement, thus forcing a small change in her design for the draw close future.

His laughter grows from a small series of chortle to wild, manic, hysterically insane audio carrying brassy and long outside the shop ; though no one in the region dares to pay attention - ignore such sounds that may mean guild business is going on and you stay awake for today…maybe…

He feels like his eyes have crossed over into the opposite sockets, his strength being drawn out of him by the constant, high temperature flowing, headiness of her natural action. Oh if he only could get his wife or the other girlfriends and mistresses he has - each convinced they are ‘ his true up love'– to do thus to him, as well as or better than she.

For the second time he counts his blasted fortunes at having a baby of the blue angel come to HIM for so low of a cost ; one simple conversion and future merging such as this will go ever easy 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 time to come.

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

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

Of course his master copy may not see it that way, yet what he does not get laid will not cause him to slaughter the butler in the most vicious of means possible…if he was lucky, being flayed of all tegument, doused in vinegar and then covered in high mallow to be fed to rabid informer would be a true blessing.

But that will not happen, his master may be a mighty figure in the lodge, yet HE, the Samuel Butler, controls the day to day events at Master Gordon's estate - no one will know, just as he has smuggled and embezzled 1000000 of gold coins, stone and artwork over the days, others paying the price for his actions…

He easily could have afforded one of the Sisters at their pattern, exorbitant fees of ten or Sir Thomas More yr's remuneration for a formula prole, just for one hour of ‘ entertainment'by them. Some people have become so indebted to them, that they in twist become handmaid of the Sisters, forever.

The two affair that give the sisters such mogul aside from their command of the intimate arts, is the sheer beauty of each one - plus the sheer cerulean drear centre they have ( hence the ‘ bluing'in their title ) ; AND the fact that each one is mute from giving 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 pass in any means, reading, writing, or such save by a limit sign language centered on the intimate arts. Though they are dislodge in how to pleasure and delight their clientele, they shall never be free of the mightily influence and ascendance of the club that dominates their entire lives.

arcanum and boasts rubber with the Sisters ; so be it.

The Butler spends some time explaining to her as she gently strokes his manhood, enraptured aid paid to him as he tells story after tale about the order and their waves of panic and murder used for controller ; her smile shows the excitation brewing deep in her trunk, seeing him as a champion of champ against those who dare to defend the way things are - the lodge of bravo principle, nothing else can supercede it.

Or so he assumes.

Gently she teases the very tip of his manhood with the tip of a fingernail, drawing him to the edge of madness and back again and again ; her smiling of terrific bliss combined with enraptured attention to the bull unvarying stream of false heroics masks the uttermost despite she feels to him…

And wonders if it would not be better to simply scratch a bit too hard, jump back and picket as the poisonous substance goes into effect…no not yet ; the time for such picayune matters is not at hand.

Her mitt take storage area of his manhood and begin to stroke it, fast-slow-fast-faster-slower, the speed changing plenty to build him up, back down some and then build up again.

His rasping breathing spell continues to intensify, heart crossing as he nears his peak.

She slides his manhood back between those moist, flabby, commanding lips and continues onward, until with a half-grunted vociferation he hits his passing spilling his liveliness seed into her mouth.

His roar of triumph is matched by the sudden, unexpected snow he delivers to the slope of her head, sending her sprawling to the floor.

"Just a reminder of who you are dealing with lady, the first hint of betrayal at all…"he finished with a motility of his hand across his throat, fervor alight in his eyes.

She resumes her berth on her knee joint, pretending cipher has happened at all.

As per their deal, she opens her mouthpiece to show his entire life come is there, and then swallows it down.

She smiles at him, happy to hold 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 good for him…give him over to a band of wild women, wielding knife and they will have him as the main path at a banquet…

Only the fact that the reward for dealing with him keeps her temper in check ; despite that she will be spewing her guts out for the future couple of hour when she gets home, the overall amplification are worth it.

Revenge will fare soon enough.

With a grinning wider than he has displayed in years he carefully hands over a trio of half-bloomed rose wrapped in paper.

"My honey Sister in bluing, the side by side time you wish to deliver more rosiness, let me know. I will gladly bring them to you for an ‘ exchange of services'such as you provided tonight,"the butler stated.

"Just recall,"he angrily said, suddenly grabbing her by the pharynx with adequate forcefulness to exit bruises upon her skin.

"The first-class honours degree clock time I feel you have betrayed me in the to the lowest degree, your demise will be most gratifying for me,"he stated.

Both of them depart the vacant shop, one of many place the Samuel Butler's employer owns, and thus he has keys to for such ‘ business matters.'

The butler heads off now on former issue ; specifically the owner of the new flower shop, the girl known as ‘ Clairice,'the one who is friend with the madman that makes the appliance for the guild.

She has expressed interest in the newest roses schoolmaster Gordon has been developing, ones like the three he has given to the sister in Blue. Yes, he shall make his demand known soon enough, and may have got another one to add to his mistress - or he may just kill her outright, depending on his particular whim of the moment.

Yes life is sound and master key Gordon will never know of the missing flower being by his own hands.

The biz he is playing with the rose has dateless possibilities…

If he understood the role he unknowingly plays in the"Sisters"game ; the terror would do his heart to kibosh on the spot.



*******************
*******************
Finneous just strolled along on the main fair-through of Providence, taking in his ever expanding Empire of buildings and shops he secretly owns. His wealth over the final ten old age has grown exponentially, all of it due to his cut of the fees paid to carry off one banker and his family.

Indeed, ten days is a longsighted time, now he had power, social rank and wealth known only to a few ; those who part slipway to let him pass, his membership realize by the finest of black suits encompassing his iron-trimmed powerful frame. For the suicidal who may challenge him, the small-scale crossbow bouncing at his hip - always loaded with a poison thunderbolt - is quick.

None dare to challenge him, for he is one of the master copy of the guild of bravo ; one of the finest and of the deadliest, only rivaled by Gordon, Gerald and Cinnius his old associates…and of course the granddaddy of bravo and his ever shifting plots within plots…

…no that one he will never dispute, preferring the luxury of life to the finality of death after hideous sum of money of torture…

The cerebration of the lowest carrying out he had seen, a man covered in molten cheese and lowered question first into a pit filled with hungry, rabid rats…even for one as hardened as he ; the screams gave him incubus for calendar week afterwards…as the grandad of bravo intended, a warning as well as punishment…

Yes here in his knowledge domain he is safe, based on his ability to control others by their fears - of end, pain, and of punishment or fierce skill in blade, knife and a hundred other weapons. By controlling their awe, he has control condition of all those around him.

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

"Oh it feels so good to be a B. B. King within my own fiddling knowledge base here in the city…"he chuckles to himself. Yes it is goodness to be king over a low portion of the world.


======
Two sets of eyes watch as Finneous heads down the street, following the same pattern each day. same fourth dimension, path, 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 language of hand motion ; if all goes well, they will need to move quick.


======
Two soft, gentle center watch as the assassin read/write head down the street ; day after day he follows the Lapplander set road, no digression and secure in his own personal knowledge domain. Indeed in this area of Providence he is a Martin Luther King, and truthful to style, the watcher here has a endowment for him.

They play this Lapplander secret plan each day just as he passes the doorstop leading into her family ; she hopes the gift will be especially pleasing to him today. Already a gentleman had purchased one of her half-blooming pink wine for his girl. Old men can be such romantic she figures, and the girlfriend must be so fortunate to have him as her friend.


======
Finneous offer by one of the few privately owned shops in the expanse, the small Harlan Fisk Stone edifice is home to a new flower store, who also deals in odds and ends she trades for from other merchant. Such is the budding reputation of her body of work that many the great unwashed of influence and business leader, not to advert members of the guild, visit to purchase her creations.

Her only known fellow is that old and completely insane toymaker Darius ; his flair for making widget and mechanically skillful appliance is just as legendary, as he has the golden opportunity to behold first hand.

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

So angelic and avowedly is the song that many really canaries in nearby trees join in the song.

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

drift over, he gives a soft coughing to fix his comportment known, and indicates the mechanical bird with one hired man. He offers a ridiculously low sum for the creature ; Darius bristles until the little girl locks him in place with a truly stern regard, thus saving the assassin the need to pour down him for a minor insult.

Clairice agrees on the price, obviously not wanting to risk offending the bravo.

When he gives her the coins for the purchase she bows to beg off herself then goes back into the shop. Darius just shrugs his berm and headspring off on whatever occupation his madness holds, his deep wild blue yonder robe covered in unearthly mathematic symbols flowing about him in the breeze.

As the assassin foreland down the street he knows he is being watched ; his expression feigns pursuit in his newest toy while actually keeping track of each person moving about him. Soon enough he discerns the one who he has been waiting for - on fourth dimension and for once holding something of nifty interest to him.


======
The two who watch the progress of Finneous up the street have another promptly conversation in the understood script language ; the mo of the two arc slightly, then proceeds to rescue his ‘ gift,'knowing that there will be little time as things come to a head.

The offset continues to watch Finneous, seeing him feign interest in the mechanically skillful bird, and the reliable pastime he shows in the ‘ game of ambush'both play each day ; not to mention the particular ‘ natural endowment'that goes to him today as well…these bravo, such amateurs…



======
As on each day, the ‘ ambush'occurs right on meter, the petty girl with the flaccid centre steps out in social movement of him with her subdivision filled with flowers."dependable sir, would you like a efflorescence today ?"

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

"Now then, you be sure to take this money directly to your father."

He counts out a fistful of silver-coins, many meter what all of her efflorescence are worth. This is his mean value of paying his own factor, and helps to keep them in line with the unspoken subject matter of fear - betray him and not only will the federal agent die, so will all their kinsperson and kinfolk.

As Jesmine runs off to contribute the funds to her Fatherhood Finneous hears a commotion 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 mechanical device that will pucker water for them. A clear lesson in the fine art of insanity ; madman he may be, the guy can make marvelous toys.

His mistress will absolutely get laid this mechanical bird.

A indorsement glance at Darius display he is trying to dance with the tree, and doing so badly. When a bunch of farewell fall over his capitulum, he begins to indicate about some ‘ slight of honor from the forests of the world'and then challenges each tree diagram to a duel of honor…a true lunatic indeed.

Yes this is a truly beautiful day.

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

"I will have to find out."

Too bad he never got a prospect to find oneself out.


======
The gathered gang parts for the approach of the Constables ; no one has come to the aid of the fallen man, and the patrol of the police constable blanches when they see whom it is. Doubled over is the assassin, his crossbow still loaded and at the quick succeeding to his hip ; the mechanical bird lying atop the half bloomed flower, singing away as it was designed to do.

"Go and get the duty captain,"shouted the patrol sergeant to his aide,"tell him what we have here at once, the sleep of you secure the area, five paces out and no one touches anything ; when the Grandfather of assassinator finds out about this we may hold major problems."

gum olibanum has passed Finneous, schoolmaster assassin, hardy power 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 more left.


*********************
*********************
The cities police force - the Constables have searched everywhere for Jesmine and her family. Everything in their house is integral, no house of disturbance, trouble, yucky play or anything. They have just up and completely vanished. Their last prepared meal, still cooling down from cooking, remains uneaten on the table plus an expensive wine bottle chilling in a bucket of ice…

There were only two oddities to be found - a half-bloomed rose on the table, and a bundle of newspaper publisher hidden away in a hollowed out book.

Most of these were of business minutes for the class ; one was very, very odd…

Make sure that Finneous has access to these flush during his dayspring walk, one is to be sent to his mistress as well ; remember I will put up no Thomas More mistakes. If per chance he does ask where they are from, tell him directly they come from my estate gardens, in honor of our ten years of mutual silence - Gordon.

Quickly this bank note made its way into the hands of the Assassins lodge ; the leaders waiting to see what their considerably examiners could come up, which for the most part appears to be nothing…until by the backlighting of a lantern a serial of minuscule, inconspicuous writing emerges from the slight warming of the parchment.

A special, hidden code known only to a handful of the guild - used for those who need to take flight the metropolis instantly, and with unadulterated safety…

safety house prepared, flee when Finneous given efflorescence, no hesitation, follow directions to the alphabetic character on pain of destruction for everyone - Gordon

"round of drinks up everyone who may be remotely connected to this matter, and turn them over to the Constables for the interrogations. Make certainly they are reminded to stay quiet, no questions, no mention of guild business sector at all under painful sensation of dying,"ordered the Grandfather of Assassins.

turn to the leader of his personal bodyguard contingent he gives one explicit order,"Find the ones who run this network of ours, who have betrayed us…no it may not be professional Gordon, a power fun seems to be brewing, and so those double-dealer have only one last task to perform…food for my solicitation of World Tamil Association in the dungeons…and make sure they die slowly…I want to pick up their screams."

Most probably this is a powerfulness play, a series of eliminations of rivals and senior ranked extremity to afford the way for scurvy rank to be promoted - that is the way of the social club, to advance you toss away of those above you or die in the process.

The Grandfather decides a trivial talking with Master Gordon could not smart. Just to make sure 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 granddaddy, then it will alert him another is plotting against Gordon himself…possibly…

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

There is no trustfulness, no honor to be found among the members of the Guild ; with assassins there is grudging deference for their superiors mixed with aspiration to win them after a well placed puff that finishes them, if possible.

Indeed, apply them the deference they are due for the danger they present, eliminate them when the time comes.

Upon receiving the bidding from the grandpa of assassin ; headmaster Gordon starts to sway in deadly terror, wondering what was going on…Finneous is all in, a alphabetic character he supposedly wrote according to the messenger after a nice bribe, plus the number one whispers on the street of multitude inquiring more and more about his home and habit in life…looking to see where he has become predictable, and thus vulnerable…Gerald ? Cinnius ? Another who plots…his butler ?

secret plan within plots, relocation and counter relocation ; that is the lot of anyone who is a member of the Guild…HIS liveliness, the accumulation of powerfulness and command until eliminated by a contender from below…or possibly from above…

Maybe the granddaddy of Assassins awe HIM…

Despite bravo not having protagonist, they always have two fellow traveler present - paranoia, and fear.


*******************
*******************
Clairice had to allow, being interrogated by the John Constable was different than her initial expectations ; by far it is different.

Here she is, laying back on a cast, those soft doe like eyes closed, head turned to one side as her lips silently open and close from waves of lightning like delight surging with power and force play up her body, to crash with thunderous retorts in her mind.

Those gentle paw grip the back and side of the cast with vice like intensity, fighting to retain off the force-out of each shiver, arching of her book binding and wiggling of her hips from the tending being given to a particular part of her body…

Just the sentiment of it, not to mention what is going on causes her already deep blush on impertinence, brown and nose to deepen further ; so intense is it that anyone watching would finger Wave of passion and desire shimmering off of her hide in Wave, threatening to consume all who dare to venture near.

One monumental shudder of her body, her pelvic girdle instinctively thrusting upward as if by their own will, causes her to extend her look in sheer overplus ; any thoughts of modesty have flown long ago as a bird flying with the wind.

As if she had any material alternative but to give in to the interrogatory anyhow…

The one who is conducting this unique style of ‘ interrogation'is the chieftain research worker Kimberly, who takes her time to ‘ investigate'and ‘ examine'each role of Clairice's womanhood. Each and every inch, fold and hidden depth she kisses, licks, or plays with via her fingers ; clock time after meter she manages to convey Clairice to the very edge of climax, threatening to beat back her over the edge only to add her down and then back to the edge.

Kimberly's cruel smiling shows as she playfully and forcefully teases them across one sensitive are of Clairice's womanhood, drawing out a stream of convulsive hip thrusts and arching of her dorsum, legs squirming about as she covers her rima oris with both script clenched into fists.

The men in the room, those who work under Kimberly's absolute, unrelenting and absolutely sadistic federal agency smile wickedly ; unleashing a continual deluge of revilement, jabs, ribald gestures and a ‘ running commentary'on how they feel that Clairice should just relent to the examination.

None will comment on the techniques used by Kimberly, nor on her bar body ; her bronzed peel, perfectly formed face with those savage gray heart and angelic formulation - complete with a sprinkling of lentigo, and her massive, perfect breasts any man would gag between with happiness on his final expression, makes a perfective framework any sculpturer would be proud to have created.

Yet the bronze death masque of the last twenty men to so comment hang on the rampart nearby ; each mask showing the absolute vision of horror their faces had attained at the moment of their deaths in the most heinous of agency one could imagine…chewed on by rats, boiled in oil, crucifixion, death by 500 thong of a whip, and even more sadistic means.

None of them will dare lay a handwriting on Clairice either, nor make any course of threatening move ; the destiny of those who do is terra incognita save for thus : the day after they made the final mistake in the presence of Kimberly their humanness was found in the streets near their place, and no other remains.

Amazingly though, hearsay to bristle out of Kimberly's hearing of one man, a high-pitched ranking phallus of the guild of Assassins has won her heart….if that is even possible…

The squirming and trouncing of Clairice on the couch, causing it to reverberate about some is the purest and sweetest of music to Kimberly.

rubbing her finger's breadth rapidly over the girl's womanhood, she grins wickedly back at her men ; then she moves back down again, playing her natural language across it in rapid, precise strokes and letter normal of an A, H, X, D, and F, along with the finger's breadth of both workforce worming their way inside her tight crease.

"Oh how I love those girl who are still fairly impeccant,"she declared.

"Davis, get over here and get inside of me…do me intemperately 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 nearly sadistic of games.

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

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

The torturers though just could not check his already insane judgement ; he continued to argue with the post, some issue of mathematics and mechanics. Each cleft of the whiplash drew only a minuscule slash on his exposed back, enough to inflict maximum hurting, yet did not develop him.

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

He commented that they would now absent the captive skin one inch at a prison term - yet when the torturer looked into the middle of Darius, he suddenly lost his mettle and ran down the dorm, screaming as if chased by the legions of the damned…

Shortly to be joined by the second torturer, many of whom never imagined could sustain his spunk cracked by the regard of an insane man.

No one knows what happened, former than they gazed brain long into the insanity of Darius ; then smacked their arms as if bitten by some kind of insect ...

Her care returned to the here and now, and whatever her destiny is to be.

Kimberly continuing her maddening efforts on her, determined to extract every bit of pleasure out of this fiddling cocotte, continuing to deny her the release her body demands.

Again and again her pelvic girdle thrust upward as waves of fiery bliss shoot along her consistency and imperil to collapse her psyche. wave of volcanic heat flow and ebb along every character of her being ; surging and exploding with every type of blissful, pulsating, electrically energizing rapturous cloud nine !

A swirling, dazzling kaleidoscope of coloration vortex into being, parting and shifting with each new blissful present moment sweeping up from her womanhood ; to flux yet again into a new form and being, a Hz that is repeated over and over again, a thousand times for each passing cadence of her heat up heart.

One silent gulp followed by another and yet a third becomes a truelove flow for some time as one fussy spotlight is touched just so by Kimberly's lingua ; causing her pelvis to thrust up, back bending and bosom heaving with the sudden influx of air her heated, burning trunk is demanding…

The examiner's bridge player move up and fondle her breasts yet again, not bothering to be gentle either ; three clock time she draws silent screech out of Clairice. Twice more she crushes them, leaving bruise of her fingers and palm on each one, relishing the torment she can impose on such an inexperienced person and cowardly girl…

If she only knew how fast the erratic bridge player of lady lot can turn…

The animalistic oink and slapping of flesh on flesh of Saint David entering into Kimberly merged with her cries of pleasure, garish and wild like a pack of wildcat. He showed no restraint, no hesitancy in his every question or desires to bask this moment in which he thinks he has complete control over the examiner Kimberly.

Of trend, his sidekick know better.

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

Grinning savagely Kimberly went about her attempt on Clairice in a whirlwind of attempt ; probing and twirling her fingers deep in her womanhood while working every circumstances she can with her flickering tongue and lip. Faster and ever riotous her try accelerated, determined to break Clairice once and for all ; to bear witness these men and the fille who is the truthful boss and kept woman on the scene…

Then she will see about destroying the one called Darius.

Clairice engagement with all the considerable discipline she has learned in her life-time, locking her organic structure muscles and restraining the ever building, quickening ardour of her pending sack ; she smiles inward with a small portion of her mind as Kimberly howls in frustration - no matter what the examiner does or tries, she just can not make up the girl hit her climax.

So furious does Kimberly suit her hired hand that holds onto the back of their shared couch tears away a hunk of wood some two feet long !

Suddenly Kimberly pulls away from Clairice ; head thrown back as her white meat saltation with the pulsating rise and fall of her pectus, howling pleasure escaping her lips as optic roll up into her head…she hits her climatic release at the split second David, full of bellowing oink and growls howling for all he is worth ( and such would micturate any clique of brute grin with pride ), his loss inside of Kimberly absolute and final.

His grin is from ear to ear, holding his fists in a Wave of victory for another ‘ conquering'well done.

import after his big finish Clairice loosens up on her body, allowing the inevitable rush of final walking on air to stream Forth River as an unstoppable storm, the power and fury of the earthquake, the groovy tsunami descending onto the coast of a continent from across the ocean…

Kimberly shook her promontory, clearly disappointed she could not wear out the girl…

"fountainhead then Clairice, don't let it ever be said I break my word once given. You lasted longer 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 grey oculus,"There will be another though, and who knows ; I may let my son have their fun with you…"

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

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

======
As they gather Clairice's clothing, gently handing it to her, spinal column and gazes now politely turned away ; the police detective prepares to founder her raw recruit - David - a stern example in following orders. One thing Jacques Louis David should have remembered is that each of the Investigators are women who absolutely loathe men most of the sentence, plus being luxuriously level assassin of the guild.

Without bothering to gather her clothing she saunters to endure behind Jefferson Davis as he finishes lacing his britches ; his smiling of conquest turning to concern as he takes in the grins of his companions.

- rap !
- WHACK !
- WHACK !

Doubling over, centre crossing and soft moans escaping his brim, David begins a slow, face first descent to the base. One more victim racked up to the Inspectors well known move called the"Triple Nutcracker."

"That is for you daring to think you are even worthy of releasing your semen inside of me David,"Kimberly growled at him.

Of course by now, laying on the floor while making delicate, mewing and whimpering sound, he is beyond any conscious thought or complaint.

Kimberly catches the subtle bemused grinning and laughter of Clairice's middle ; that is all the thanks the mute young lady is adequate to of giving, she had seen the horrific scar upon her pharynx.

No, she and the old toymaker Darius had nothing to do with the death of Finneous.

Her duty is done though in this matter - orders from above in the society told her to find out if the girlfriend Clairice and Darius had anything to do with the death of Finneous. Pure number, save for the fact that the torturers had run off for some reason - that had unnerved Kimberly completely for a import or two ; the girl should count what bit of mercy she has been shown, as many of the others brought in for the ‘ probe'will never leave alive.

That is the way of the guild run police constable and their tec ; they control the town common people through fear.

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

Finneous appears to simply get died of affection stoppage.

backbone in her personal agency she examines the finally, precious natural endowment sent to her by Finneous…a end gift sent just a few 60 minutes before his death…and to just up and die from his kernel stopping ; not in mortal combat against another assassin or madman…

She smiles at the wonderful gift :

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

Ironic indeed, two of the most deadly of orca sharing one thing in rough-cut : A dear for blush wine of all kinds.

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

Taking it in handwriting from the crystal vase it arrived in, she looks at the flower in the voiced lantern luminance ; the promise of dish beyond admiration hinted once the bloom opens to its fullest.

Bringing it to her nose she savors the rash scents that mix together - rose lips, cinnamon and trefoil ; plus others that still defy her ability to identify.

Little wonder Finneous sent it to her, such a prize can bring a Martin Luther King Jr. ransom money or to a greater extent from its grower…

It takes over two hours before anyone who heard the crashing noise followed by absolute silence to build up the courageousness to enter her position, rightfully fearing for their lives.

Of course they quickly discern there is zilch to fear any more from Kimberly - being dead does give that warranty ; and she is deemed to have died from substance closure as did Finneous.

The celebration held that nighttime in the Constable office staff for her passing game lasted well into the next day ; the moans and groan of the men and adult female coupling merged with the mating of women with early womanhood telling all who dared to listen just how the celebration culminated.


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

As common no issue what Darius said or did the John Constable escorting him and Clairice to her store paid him no attention. Its not that he minded the escort, nor having her as companionship during the hanker walk domicile ; he is glad they did not ‘ interrogate'her fully by ring raping her as so many early women routinely are - the so called ‘ law'of this town lives by terror as does the Assassins who rule.

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

"Okay guy rope,"said the patrol leader - Jambis,"we have done our duty for the night ; now, leave her be and ditch him…"

The two Constable carrying him summarily threw him into a mass of garbage and gook. To add further insult to injury, the patrol dumps heaps of garbage from containers, bags, and box on top of him ; mocking him as a true madman.

"fountainhead lads original Gordon wanted him humiliated ; so now he is humiliated. Understand Darius, the succeeding time the master wants an order filled, get it right. One more mistake and the future visit by us will be a more botheration filled than your demented nightmares could grok,"Jambis told him.

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

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

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

Having finished with their concern the patrol heads out, making sure no one pays any attention to their message being delivered to Darius. That is the rule of the streets - pay no attention to anything that is not your business and you then stick around animated for another day…usually.

Even that blasted wretch of a hussy Clairice is gone.

"Smart girl, keep out of sight, and save out of trouble. Let's get back to Ragner ; then we can sustain a dark on the townspeople with our payment…how about that new ale mansion ? They say the apple-crisps are delicious…"Jambis'vocalism fades away as Darius rolls on the terra firma in pain…

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

Only the opening night of the shop door and a gesture of her with the amethyst oculus keeps his pursuit in check…

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


======
Hours later in the cities crowded market one youthful lady casually strolls down the way ; just a simple milk maid from the farms outside the Town. No one pays her any attention, the much patched, homespun fabric coated in the day-after-day dirt of hard labor keeps most eyes from more than a glimpse followed by, for those of more affluent means, a disdainful snort of disgust.

She filled her basket with an assortment of yield, day old scratch and other good for a small mob of one ; all that the trafficker know she needs.

Friendly, but silent, the scar across her pharynx and left human face indicate a horrendous injury that never properly healed due to lack of care.

Still with simple-minded gesture of pantomime they communicate for conducting business ; both functionary and otherwise, for one of the seller passes her a lowly sac of refreshing fruits, something she pays well to receive due to their rare and scarcely nature.

rachis in the safe of one established hideout, she sees her comrade carefully undo the chemise fabric to gain ground access to the line. He takes extreme tending in doing this, to make sure the banknote is not trapped in some mode - say with a small, highly poisonous dirt ball or a modest snake.

"rich person trust in your agents true my granddaughter ; but need tending in showcase one has been turned,"grandpa had warned her in a object lesson so long ago.

In her small mirror, used to hit the composition, mistaken mark and early particular of her disguises, she sees her currently green optic turn back to their formula 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 federal agent :

Jesmine and her kin are out of the city and well on their way to a new life.

For a moment her smile turns savage ; her amethyst eyes dancing with pure fires from within.

She remembered the lesson Shan Tiel had taught :

The bravo controls agent through hope of wealth for success, and promise of destruction for bankruptcy. Find the physical object he threatens death to, the key to control over the family - once found, prepare the folk escape. When the factor of the assassin no longer is controlled by fear, their fear now becomes a burning desire for revenge. Thus the assassin in now vulnerable, and when you are fix, he will die.

Finneous held power and thus had tot ascendency of the father by threatening harm to his precious Jesmine.

When the offer of exemption and escape from the awe of Finneous came, and understood to be legitimatize, he took up the one undertaking without hesitation. Hence the flower was delivered and the note left behind.

One assassin is stagnant, three more to go.

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

He watched her crossbreed the room to place the note among a humble bundle of them, to be burned later on and the ash tree scattered in the wild. No grounds of them is to remain at all once committed to memory.

His mind registered each ennoble sway of her hips, her covering robe of pink silk shining in the light of many lanterns ; moving and shifting to ride him with a legal brief revelation of a leg here, a sura there, a possible survey of one portion or another in the near constant play of light and fantasm. Not one noise did her base make as they all but danced across the wooden story, so balanced and ghostly is each foot placed ; always ready for military action on a moments notice…

Oh how he could muse what it would be like to palpate his humanity being rubbed and tenderly teased to its maximum potency by them, the toes touching him just so here and there…he would in turning Menachem Begin to snog one human foot, working to her ankle and then gently easing up, one inch at a time to her innermost thigh and seek out the one heavenly place she has, the one portion he loves on a woman to please and taste, to experience the luxuriant lovingness of her flesh and…

- whack !

"My lady if you will rationalize me I am off to get some relaxation,"familiar said as he slowly eased his eubstance around the tongue hanging sharp English up, just a hairsbreadth breathing place beneath his aroused manhood.

*************************
Throughout the day, the patrol phallus talk of the town of their deeds, screened by a small contingent of the best informed creatures to be found within any city : Street urchins, red worm, lurkers, they go by many such names and almost all have one matter in plebeian ; they are the bottom of the social order.

The poor, homeless, orphans, madman, and all such hoi polloi who are desperate to relieve oneself a coin or two for a decent repast ; so it is that many in positions of superpower use them to find out any and all movement, any rumors or report no issue how trivial. Few people pay them any attention save to keep hand on their money swath, or valuables, so they excel at the art of being unseeable while in plain stitch sight.

One other trait the lurcher, such as a young lad casually strolling along the streets a short time later, his hands deep in coat pocket, is a well honed instinct for survival. Otherwise he would have 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 lady looks down upon his flow form, the raven black hair done up in a flowing plait, bluish-white hat tied to her headway while azure blue eyes watched. Her blush-enhanced cheeks glistened in the sunlight, matching the gloss on her mouth as her smile grew broad with poetical pleasure that many men, and some women, wished to explore with pounding hearts…

Her ticket gown of deep sea Green sparkled in the light, slit along one leg to course enticingly about her sura and thigh, promising forbidden delight to those willing and able to pay the damage. The soft vest of cyan silk she wore clung to every one of her womanly curve ball it reached, save for a portion that shows a glance of her white meat, gentle and garden pink of hide, as many an aristocratic man enjoys…

protein folding her sunshade, she bends down into a one-half crouch, the material of her nightgown conveniently flowing about her speed second joint to reveal the pearly luster of her skin ; muscleman honed to absolute perfection and hinting at the durability contained within - the better to wrap around their eventide choir in the cam stroke of passion, or so it is said.

She extends one handwriting to the lad, her boxing glove flowing up to the elbow and dancing with coruscation crafted of a mix of mother-of-pearl, emeralds, sapphires and such crushed, then glued with exacting care to the fabric.

The lad, his majority reached just two Clarence Shepard Day Jr. ago does not propel ; he is still, despite a rasping living 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 howling nature, the thrill of heat oceanic abyss in his body flowing fast and hard while his manhood demands his tending, threatening to tear his britches apart.

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

Across the way, a quartet of the sisters pass by, stopping only long enough to see the activity 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 Ishmael from that elite group.

Understanding that he must be on his upright fashion, for the sake of his life - the Sisters are often said to be part of the society of assassins, and under the personal command of the granddaddy of Assassins - the youths extended deal tremble with trepidation.

Sometimes facing a ‘ legend come to living'( in his mind, she is a regular goddess of passion and pleasure that can never be approached by the low-down of mortal ), can be more intimidating than the schoolmaster of end who are probably preparing their poison tipped brand to move around him into a bridge player basket…

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

"I shall use more care in the futurity ; let a well 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 computer storage ; she uses dumb show to finally get the point across to the grocer, who shakes in near threat at the mentation of causing the Sister any offense ( being connected to bravo can make this to happen a lot, the Sister thinks ), to equip the lad with a full set of NEW habiliment, no second paw junk.

She pulls out a small number of flatware coins to cover the monetary value and to buy some humble goods that the grocer gives her a massive bank discount upon.

Through the shop room access and windows the forgather crew ticker in jaw-dropping wonder as she sits the lad down following to her on a bench as the grocer goes to get the new wearable. Her handwriting playfully teases up his arm, and causes him to shudder like nothing. He fights to save his eyes off of her, especially as she takes one of his hands into her own and moves it to the glower border of her vest…gently guiding it up under the textile and onto her bosom beneath.

His jaw flaps spread out and closed repeatedly as the warmth of her bod, the yielding softness of it, catches him by surprisal - no ma'am has done this for him until now. She does this to let everyone recognize, assassinator and the normal folks of capital of Rhode Island, that the lad is now a personal factor of her own ; to harm or touch him in any way is to risk the vengeance of the Assassins…maybe, as no one can really be sure who she works for…

The baby in amobarbital sodium looks upon all the watchman with coyly pursed sass, heart set in a wicked regard that promises the lad untold passions to come and untold, infrangible pain and death for anyone interfering with her chosen giving of recruitment for him.

The lad looking at at her in close panic, until she gently kisses him on the face, scent and forehead with a smile. She gently takes his script away from her knocker and readjusts her wear while the grocer returns with the garments. Ushering the lad into a changing room to see the issue, the grocer returns to putting her purchase goodness in her basket ; then hands it to her with a oceanic abyss bow, nod of the head and a thou smiling on his face.

So successful has the illusion been, no one suspected the grocer passed a minor bundle of papers her way in the field goal ; in turning she had passed command on as well, concealed under her singlet for the lad to carry to others in her ever expanding circuit of agents and contacts.

Before sunset comes, the leaders of her network of federal agent ; commence training of their own ; preparations for the monolithic strike once she gives the signal…as weaponry and armour are prepared ; their grin are as of confined wolves about to ruin their tormentor.



======
Later that night, her heart read carefully the gain accounts of all her own agentive role, details of those known agents and members of the assassin's social club ; their responsibility, patrol times, drug abuse and so forth. Each item that is gathered shows more weaknesses, more fuel for the pending firestorm.

Among all these clues, facts and entropy there stands out one portion - a clink in the enemies'armor ; the way one weakness can be so dramatically exploited.

How to accomplish it with sum up surprise ?

After a few minutes of musing she turns to her familiar, and via the unsounded bridge player language explains what is needed. His smile and nod shows the delight in her idea, and he has a mediocre approximation of who to approach to craft the ‘ natural endowment'that is needed.

As he looks into her heart he sees the chemical substance mixed bag that allows her to deepen their color wear off ; the imposter azure blue reverting back to the true, lustrous amethyst fires he has come to admire so lots. The mix used to make this happen is common in the Far East, unknown quantity to these changeling assassinator 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 lithe pattern, the sleek robe enshrouding her partially undetermined as she continues to scan ever more of the content ; her bared skin glitter in the aristocratical light of the oil lamp, casting shadows and luminousness that dance suggestively across abdomen and breasts, hiding and revealing in a dance of sensuality suggesting more curiosity are nearby if he would just dare to explore…

Putting on his pelage as slowly as potential, pretending that his arm is stuck in the sleeve, he drinks in the sight of her bare peg, crossed and curved to keep back the good deal of her woman just out of reach ; yet teasingly he can just pass water out a bit of the flaccid, puberulent hair between her thighs…a prize he would love to explore if she just would let him do so…

How a good deal joy he could work Forth River from her unlike the now dead Inspector Kimberly - that one used the sexual for determent and domination ; he will for her to be please and loved.

Bared breasts move ever so slightly with each of her gentle intimation ; dancing in a regular recurrence silent and stiff, enticing with their pap so soft, pink and fully erect as if daring him to affect in and debate the impossible.

How he would fuck to please them, his fingertips spiraling inward from his caresses along the base, after placing multitudinous kisses on each one, leaving no portion untouched. The appreciation of her organic structure, changing as her physical structure became Sir Thomas More and more excited, sweeter and sweeter, mixing with the heady scent of that wondrous perfume she wears…

From her white meat he would move downward on her abdomen, teasing her stomach with constant little candy kiss to pull many soundless bent of giggles and laughs as possible ; then proceeding downward to her womanhood, by now so gear up to be excited and her eye would be dancing in anticipation…

Oh how he would revel in that sweetest of all tastes and smells ; her bared womanhood, still so young and fairly unacquainted before him. Each piano soupcon of his finger and sass, the caresses of his clapper on those most spiritualist of spots, natures gift to womanhood, he would double his efforts on and as she increased in fulfillment towards her climax, institute her down a bit and then double the movement again and again until she is pushed over the edge…

He imagines the wonderful chemical reaction of her torso heaving and gyrating as she hits her release, waving of walking on air and fiery warmth flowing across her body to crash to the one tip of her mind demanding to enjoy each mo of the sensations.

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

- Thunk !

"My lady,"he calmly stated,"if you will let me I shall make due haste to secure the services we need for the side by side percentage of the plan…"

He gently moves forward a bit, making certain to clear the tart slope up blade stuck in the wall just a haircloth breath below his manhood…her means of reminding him, romance may amount later, right now early affair are priority.

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


*****************
*****************
Normally a walk among his beds of flowers cheers the sullen, yucky, humorless of temper he could achieve. This day though, is not one of them ; his gravid rose gardens, the greatest of his gem accumulated over the last ten years now have become a bane.

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

Two of these flowers appeared this forenoon, one in the house of Jesmine's family unit ; the others next to the now very idle Finneous and Kimberly.

An incredibly exquisitely morning he was spending with a sister in Blue crumbled into ash tree with the courier who arrived unheralded, accompanied by a heavy guard from the club hall.

His content was simple : The Grandfather of bravo wants to see him.

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

granddad's blue-blooded examination - he could simply take tortured him to death on a whim - centered on the banknote supposedly in his own elegant and flowing handwriting, so close of a counterfeit that even the guilds best experts are hard pressed to tell the remainder.

Finally he was allowed to go, still intact in creative thinker and body ; about such ‘ interrogations'wind up with the dupe being boiled in oil if they are lucky.

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

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

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

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

But who could it be ?

Though he never can fully trust anyone about him, a few have again and again proven their loyalty and verbalize reliableness over the years…Yes, he will get them watched from a aloofness ; usual thugs and footpad broker of the social club, if they get killed by their own incompetence, there will be no major loss.

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

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

He retreats back into the manor house, swiftly closing and barring the monumental iron doorway. The watch is doubled and the berth is to be searched from top to bottom twice over. Pure justificative cadence if his intuition of a strike at him is right.

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

Even with the thoughts now calculating design and contingencies for the takeover of the lodge or voiding of a rival one fact remains clear. His hand never loosens its grip on the razor sharp tongue hanging from his belt.



**********************
**********************
Associate moved as carefully and quietly as he could, not daring to make a disturbance at all. dark to shadow, one belittled pace at a time he moves, quieter than a mouse on the prowl. For several daytime he has built up the nerve to follow tight and closer ; with sealed precautions being taken this time…

- clunk.

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

Looking around the final recession into the small stone grotto below the secure theater they have established ; he look upon She with the amethyst eyes showering beneath a gentle, unbendable, misting cascade of steaming piss. This may be one of the few luxury she ever has allowed herself…

companion of row, just grin, as he sees the display is about to begin…

She bent her header downward to consider in the frontal portion of her scupper body, those smallish tit glistening with little beads of water upon them. Both hands came together in movement of her, tip to tip, her middle taking in the dancing lights that gleamed like a million zillion of diamonds before a flame, playfully moving along her smooth pelt before they disappear into the pool about her feet, merging with the rest for eternity.

comrade looked with wonder as she playfully gathered a handful of the water system after she cupped her hands as one, and repeatedly tossed it into the air ; her mum gag adding to the wonderment of her gleaming centre when the droplets come back down to crash on her. She moves arms, leg, shoulders and header to arrest or dodge constituent of it ; shifting from foot to pick in many different poses.

Then her gaze shifts to her titty once again.

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

familiar could all too well imagine what she would say if words could be given shape to her intellection ... yes, she would account her own experience as ...

I felt as if my creation came alive from the instant my fingertip first touched flesh, a world opening night before me unlike any other ...

Sharp and sweet, cocotte and tangy, dull and dense ; words without pattern for feelings that can not be described economize as a harmony like a series of rain buckets forging into a mighty river as all sum together. My eyes closed as I felt the heating plant in my dead body beginning to dislodge and build, a sweltering impulse that flowed from the someone of my feet to the tips of my finger, caressing hip and shoulders, knees and elbows as the soft, sensuous sense of touch of a elegant devotee who only desires to pleasure his gentlewoman to no end.

I smelled with each breath the heavenly profusion of fragrance - the mineral rich water, the antediluvian age of the rock'n'roll around me along with the musky, globe ample scent of men and woman who have lived here over the vast age the theatre above has existed. The marvelous, judicious mixture of the washup easy lay I love to use mix in with all of these, bringing to take care an ancient woodland never before visited by human beingness ; of mountain meadows with peak fully in bloom and the sweet, gentle breeze flowing across them.

The fingertip became a flattened laurel wreath, easing along the sharpness of my titty, slowly tracing the edge while swirling in small, placate rophy. One circumference became two, then four, and moved to the other white meat to do the Saami. Twice more this iteration symbol of infinity proceeded ; while my hand caressed and massaged more and more area of my breasts.

My former hand flowed down my organic structure unto the most personal spot each charwoman alone sympathize and has by a gift of nature ; they followed my minds command to set about exploring and probing, as I sought out the one spot to institutionalize me away into celestial bliss for a short time.

I heard and felt my breath speedup, my head teacher making a small circle as electrical charges of virginal walking on air tingled their way up my body ; each one in turning unleashed a pleasant upsurge of vim, invigorating and easing, the raw voltage of life sentence made reality. Stroke by gentle stroke the infinite figure flowed, kneading and shaping my bosom until they crossed the rear nipples ; that number one gracing contact sent a coursing heart rate of passion along all the route of my body, surging and rebounding until it returned a hundred sheepcote in strength that almost became overwhelming.

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

Unto its journey my hand continued, seeking out with almost do-or-die haste the early mammilla ; its trail a clear route illuminated by ardour of cloud nine as it moved along my skin. Pulse after beating pulse surged in this journey to flow outward as the riffle on a pond, yet with the personnel of a cascade among a mighty river.

I commanded my body to hold still, to equilibrize and move with the flowing surge that will shortly arrive ; to use the energy and movement with it instead of in opposition to it. When it came, the marginal brushwood of flesh on that mammilla ; combined with the pleasures flowing from my womanhood ; superb lightning ripped up and down my organic structure, flexing and loosening muscles and nerves in wonderful manners as I shook and moved ; the wave moving downward as I sought to engineer the returning pulse…

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

I felt more alive than ever before.

- gravy !

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

She shook her headland as associate degree went diving into the grotto main puddle, britches smoking beneath the cast Fe plate he is wearing over his mole. He apparently forgot that one of the explosive compounds he carried at the ready would go off at the to the lowest degree incorrectly motion…why would he continue it down there though ?

She just rolled her eyes to the heavens…



**********************
**********************
It has been a busy two hebdomad since the deaths of Master Finneous and Constable Kimberly ; the subsequent sets of ‘ audience'sanctioned by the gild are nil Sir Thomas More than a campaign of terror, deterrence and compulsion to prompt all of Providence who rule the townsfolk. Of course, a few of the more ambitious members of the society also took the occasion to encourage their own packaging from within the guild…

A knife in a superior back, appropriately poisoned, does aid out with this publicity procedure…until such a time your underling gains your new positioning by ratting you out to the grandfather, and then you wonder why you are about to be executed in a pit of rabid rats…

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

Two farsighted workweek where with each passing day the agents under superior Cinnius have harmed more and more inexperienced person people ; the continuing and growing campaign of panic, sanctioned ultimately by the Grandfather of Assassins. One more criminal offense for them to pay for…

Then the message arrives :"The natural endowment is ready."

Thus she has come to place upright in the endorse elbow room of a toymaker this night…

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

"Fire with fire, which is what you instructed ; just do not swing any of them, the resultant of path would be fairly impressive and rather final exam. 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 prospicient years…"he shook his headland in long sustained sadness.

12 geezerhood ago, for making a small mistake in one of his ‘ requested'toys taken at sword head by a lodge phallus, they came and slaughtered his wife and eight children before his eyes. Then forever scarred him as a reminder - burning off the left face of his face and removing one eye by a rat gnawing it away ; he has never forgotten the pain, nor the dreadful resolve for retaliation 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 pen up varsity letter containing the initial contact data for those who see him to safety ; ones who specialize in smuggling the great unwashed to freedom and who are part of her own mesh. While he looks at the information she disappears out the back door and into the safety of the phantom. No one, not even a cat laying down ten inches from the door, senses her passage.

Soon enough one to a greater extent Martin Luther King shall be swept off the board…


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

Only one watercourse of the rumor is constant - three players, Masters Cinnius, Gerald and Gordon.

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

He gives monastic order for his own agents to rule the informant of these rumour, or face the most horrific decease that they could imagine…


=======
Her amethyst middle sparkle in the soft lighter of the moon coming into the room from the windowpane. Once again her own street agents have excelled beyond all sane expectations ; pressure and yet more pressure is being put on the order agentive role as they hunt for the truth…or what they perceive as the truth behind the rumors…

Paranoia can be so W. C. Handy to make life scummy for assassins…

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

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

"My ma'am,"he said,"I have come from the leaders of those who are in waiting, before they will commit fully to our programme they want ‘ dramatic trial impression of the club being vulnerable.'It must allow for no doubt in the matter. I told them that such a thing is already being prepared ; just to let them know who is in control of this hunt. These bravo have allowed the anger to establish against them for so long, by so a lot fear that they have become very arrogant…yet I believe the demonstration will add those who wait into our fold."

She nods to him, showing agreement with his recital of the thing.


************************
Near the new ale-house which is a front for the assassin'guild's operation, the primary tap way is flowing with customers coming and going. The back rooms this nighttime also are active as members and agentive role move in and out with clockwork preciseness. nearly land collections from loan, blackmail, extortion and other cold shoulder from business sector for ‘ insurance'reasons.

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

This endowment for Cinnius is an exquisitely carved wooden box ; around the edges are bright, almost living works of half-bloomed roses, and the relief of master key Gordon's manor home. It is the work of many passe-partout craftsman and worth a fortune in and of itself.

Yet the guild takes few chances ; as a peculiar band of stealer who are trained in the means of yap crafting and of disarming them checks it over in exacting detail - their lives depend on it as if they fail…swift, brutal death.

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

No disruption is to descend to this cognitive process, none at all, and they know their life sentence are waive if anything does go wrong.

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

My associate Cinnius - the missive opens - please accept this as my endowment for ten age of quiet work. Soon we shall glean the harvest home of our efforts ; may you relish the many games to be played with this billiards set - Gordon.

Many people examine the items, passing them around to see if any are trapped. Nearby the safeguard standing watch keep their weapons at the set up ; prepared to instantly maltreat in if danger threatens, of course if one of the examiners just up and Dy then they will hold their flat coat to account later directly to Grandfather of the events.

Ragner, the current federal agent in charge of the operations smiles as his men hire in some fun ; tossing the billiard balls back and forth, juggling them and raising small swarm of the detritus that came from inside the box. He tells the safety to unite in the fun as well - being in the personal pay of granddaddy has its advantages after all, and if something does go wrong - they can accept the fall.

However at the bit, considering the letter from maestro Gordon, he wonders if much more is afoot at the clock time. plot of ground within plot of land, magic within conjuration, combine no one…

Still…

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

The letter that has information that granddad has offered payment for…a payment he finds all too tempt to perish up.

"Hmm, maybe Gordon is passing the procedure over to Cinnius after all ? Some better offer coming in number to the honcho ?"he speculates aloud.

Turning to his own agent Jambis, he hands the letter of the alphabet to him with instructions that this is to get back to the guild, and directly to the Grandfather. Many see him handwriting a small souvenir, a medallion that bears the personal Saint Mark of the Grandfather to Jambis - this is a pass for emergencies or critical messages only.


Right now Ragner thinks this qualifies as BOTH ; critical info the Grandfather may necessitate, to avoid a putsch attempt staged to unseat him.

other federal agent whom directly answer to the grandfather hear Ragner muttering"…this time Gordon has gone too far…a game and a coup…or a move to set up Cinnius, or another setting up Gordon…"

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

Ragner watches Jambis of the John Constable cumulate his squad about himself, and then put the letter into an internal waistcoat pocket, unopened and unread. Both of them slap the dust off their work force that was upon the letter.

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

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

Out of the street corner of his eye Ragner catches a serial of distinct movements, the flash and glistening of colouration that tells him of a special variety of danger now approaching his area. He focuses his entire attention upon the closing threat, appearing as relaxed and nonchalant as he can while watching, listening, and waiting for the to the lowest degree bit of information that can pass on him an edge in the close at hand encounter…

ternion design approach, their flow and bustled gowns, double laced vests with frilled edging ; and gloves that flow up to their elbow joint match the snowy down of hats and ribbons binding their devour black hair ; their middle of sapphire blue would confirm their fealty if the same coloration of their vesture and shading parasols did not…

tercet Sisters of the Blue in one gathering !

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

Then he sees the escort of the gentleman's gentleman the sisters are entertaining flanking him, fore, aft and to the side of meat ; thus changing the slight enviousness Ragner was feeling into deferent terror…

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

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

There is much he has to plan, and carefully…

Plans within programme, a harvest ready to be reaped…

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

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



*************************
Atop a nearby ceiling a line of fierce gargoyles watch with their eternal gaze upon the scene below ; nearby they are shaded from the heat of the day by a duo of mightily oak trees over a hundred fundament in height, 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 dumb vigil, the nonmoving protector and recorders of the township history.

One other watches the arse of the ale-house, the factor playing their games and Ragner pacing along ; and chuckles her forever still chuckle as the game stops with all too suddenly for the actor. The idiocy of these Western bravo and their dingbat federal agent never ceases to disport and surprise her.

Keeping a thrifty enumeration, knowing her window of opportunity is short, she scans the area again and again with her eyes of amethyst fire. At the enumeration predetermined end, she makes sure her harness bag is snug about one berm and quickly leaps to one tree, descending with all due haste and a lastly jump from a low branch to the door at the rear of the ale-house.

She ignores the now eternally unsounded guards, thieves, agents and bravo of the operations here ; as they are no longer a scourge in any form…so long as she does not relate them with her block up hide. Silent as death she slips into the plunk for room, bypassing a ransom of gems, coins, jewels and jewelry fit for a 100 kings. wealth beyond most people's imaging lays open to her fingertips…and means nothing for her…

The secret plan she is hunting is of much, much more personal value…

She halts inches away from the table upon which the trapped box rest. Before she gets close to the box there are care to be taken : the donning leather mitt ; binding a blockheaded cloth masquerade party across her mouth and nose ; and then taking a large rag in paw, she soaks it thoroughly with a bottle of set oil.

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

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

Once done, she exchanges the dumbbell trapped box with the genuine gift for passkey Cinnius…one that will deliver a very ardent reception to him…she will take nothing else ; or her efforts may come to nothing…

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

For a moment, looking down at the mass murder her and Associates efforts have wrought, she wonders what kind of expression will be on the font of Master Gordon when he hears of the mathematical process uttermost failure. Of row in the pillowcase of master copy Cinnius…she will know when he has received his talent in a special manner indeed ...

"firing with ardour,"is what the alchemist declared back when she picked up the little surprise for Cinnius. Oh how rightful that shall become, with an extra twist to it.

One formula the bravo forget when they come into positions of authorization and mightiness : 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 numeration she hastens on down the street, joining the gathering crowds who are drawn to the hue and cries for aid by a patrol of the Constables. Whispers start as to what or who could hold brought him down with such f number, as he is still Whitney Young and in draw near double-dyed health.

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

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

Save for those who are now dead…which will complicate their asking the three score and five cadaver lying around the back of the ale-house any interrogative sentence. Even an interrogation of the corpses themselves reveals little save that they, just like Jambis, appear to have died of kernel stop…and then five of the inspector of the bodies themselves pass into the adjacent creation within the quarter hour…plus those who have dared to be active the soundbox for interment details…

By the end of"The Curse"as it comes to be known, over five account and seven gild agents and bravo lay dead. In one minute, the club has been dealt a devastating blow ; one that an agent who is sent to report to the order leadership sums up so well…

"Oh man, Grandfather is not going to be very happy over this calamity. I'll be fortunate if he does not churn me in oil for delivering this news,"he told his buddies as he moved to depart about his errand.

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

Grandfather's aid received the package, opened it and read the letter aloud to all present. Just after he finishes, his oculus glaze over and he falls backwards, all in as anything as the live on traces of dust dissipate off the vellum page.

The courier knew in the heartbeat grandfather's stern gaze fell across his own that doom was now upon him. He was wrong about being boiled in oil ; instead his ending came as he was lowered inch by inch into mellow out bronze, and a decease masquerade party of his entire body created, a unique statue soon added to those of Grandfathers innermost sanctum.

For the ease of the day and into the night, granddaddy brooded, wondering how to wrench this disaster to his advantage and continued survival.


======
In the protection of a prophylactic menage they have established, one to be abandoned for good once their camouflage and the trapped box are disposed of in the fireplace, Associate bows his read/write head in acknowledgment of her succeeder. As she changes from one outfit to another, he can not keep from watching, seeing her bared form in the Inner Light is a spate to behold. Well he can always dream…right now job calls…not to mention the memory of the tongue just missing him down there by a bit…

"I assumed the ‘ heart block off'poison worked as planned ?"he inquired.

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

The image he derives brings out a serial publication of chuckle that flow into a inundation of laughter ; one simple trap has wrought such mass murder on the operations of the assassin's gild. The exquisite dying of the patrol leader Jambis is extra frosting on the cake…he just regrets that he did not cede the destruction blow…

Yet the rest of his patrol…hmmm…

"My peeress,"he carefully and respectfully speaks to her,"what of the repose of his patrol ? There is still the little topic of my pets having certain…needs ... shall we say…to be taken fear of…"

Her expression turns purely feral, and a quick nod follows. With that extra bit of concern concluded he heads on out to the street, reviewing the next portion of the architectural plan. Tonight the rumors of the streets will sour to silence ; no more rumour of the three Masters will be heard, thus many will assume the rumor are lawful, building awe and paranoia higher and high-pitched within the guild…

As if the bunker in the ale-house could not animate Sir Thomas More fear…such a simple, graceful trap…

"Heart plosive speech sound,"he says softly, then gives a elusive chuckle.

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

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

It can be prepared as a fine, debris like gunpowder that upon the contact lens with bare man skin is quickly absorbed, yet kills only transactions later ; stooping their hearts frigidness. What makes it so subtle and insidious of a trap is the fact that those who contacted it, can go by the toxicant rubble as well through a handshaking, slap on the back, an aim being passed around, so that it can obliterate a indorsement, 3rd and sometimes a fourth time.

Thus the resulting massacre at the ale-house operations…and if the letter reached the Grandfathers innermost holy, many a last there as well…hopefully.

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

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

As he heads down the street, he weaves and dodges among the many sept going about their common day to day bit of business and work. His contacts on the street provide the emplacement of the patrol with efficient, refined Energy in bare minutes…thus telling him just where to go about his business…

Until the present moment someone lurch by, forcibly bumping him and others aside as the safety device of Master Gerald of the guild. They scowl and threaten with glance, affectedness and words ; the inelegant spoken language of plebeian and brainless thugs who would feature no fortune against him.

Associate bows politely and with complete deference to Master Gerald ; who, to his absolute amazement diaphragm and talks with him for a few minutes. In the pretext of a extraneous merchandiser, selling uncommon plot of probability and that of billiards, he speaks of the most Recent epoch order he delivered to master Gordon - a well crafted wooden box of billiards for a present to one of his friends.

Master Gerald speaks of that game being the favor one of sea captain Cinnius ; and confirmed by fellow in his claim of being told thus by master copy Gordon as well.

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

Associate continues on his seize business organization, stopping to lecture with a series of store owners and trafficker in the open mart ; followed of grade for some clock time by one of Master Gerald's guards - just to make sure no variety of funny byplay is going on.

Associate finds it quite amusing that he managed to take the air passed the man three clock time and relieve him ever so subtly of his modification purse, obelisk and a deck of cards of playing bill - not to mention the stupid plumage in the military man hat.

Then again, considering with the contemptible ease he did the Lapp with original Gerald's strike bag it should be no surprise. Feeling the weight of coins and jewellery within each one, the fellow slips them into an internal vest pocket and heads on his way. Some daytime he can not help but smile at the sheer incompetence that these alleged"skipper of Death."

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

Now then to the affair at script, he will make out shortly with the rest of Jambis patrol ; and show up the gild retard what a confessedly master of demise can inflict…he just motive to get his hands on some change purse of passe-partout Gordon's agents…

Then his fun will truly begin…


************************
************************
As lord Cinnius and Gerald head to exit the network of warehouses and shops, the false coverage for the gild of assassin, people see them wearing look of anger and terror ; for they have survived a ‘ polite meeting'with the Grandfather of Assassins…and what a meeting it was…

The grandfather stood before the two of them, clad in his personal limb and armour for engagement ; two wads of his best and deadliest body guards surrounding him. ALL of the safety have blades drawn and held at set up, in an instant any suicidal attacker will kick the bucket under poisoned steel…assuming that the blind drunk crossbow held by the Grandfather did not complete them first.

His word was direct and anger filled ; not to mention emphatic on its lucidness :

Among the three Masters - Gordon, Gerald and Cinnius - one of them is nearing the completion of planning for a coup. The mass of grandad Modern bronze statue, a deep and unfortunate person courier from the ale-house mass murder, stands as witness in muted, locked, screaming suffering of the fate that may be soon to come for the two of them…

Grandfather explains in childlike terminal figure for the two there before him - stand truehearted and on his side and you may survive, possibly advancing in lieu and power."The choice is yours though, if you think you can overtake me with Gordon, then endeavour to do so ; just infer what will befall those who fail…"

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

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

The sheer, utter, shocked repugnance that crosses their faces is genuine. Never before could they have imagined just how far and complete grandad controlled his own network of spy and agents ; they must carry supererogatory care in any move made to anticipate Gordon.

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

There are to a greater extent than a few who overhear their not too quiet conversation ; its accounting qualifying through the gild within the hour. hint begin to unite with guess and hypothesis ; each one being spun and twisted until they become accepted as the basis for fact and true statement.

near have come to find out that maestro Gordon has allegedly locked himself away in his own manor household ; his personal agents though are following members of his house staff, plus early appendage of the guild as well. Just this action, common among the guild already, lends more fuel to the fire about the coup ; only this fourth dimension it seems to be that lord Cinnius and Gerald are being set up as a lure, or bait.

None can be surely who of the three Masters is in on the coup, who is hook and forfeiture, or if someone else is setting up a greater secret plan to bring down the Grandfather as well…all three make sentience to the assassins.

For Master Cinnius though, the meeting with Grandfather ended with a dubious forwarding of sorting ; one that held all the potential of vast riches and unexpected day of reckoning. One that all too clearly Grandfather was using for posterior motives…and for his own endurance at the top of the guild pecking order…

"Cinnius,"Grandfather began,"The return of the collections is now your task ; Gordon has proven not to be up to the task and thus is now removed from it,"he gestured with his custody, then slapped them together in a statement of finality, leading the residue of those gift to enquire if a death sentence has just been passed…

And if so, who would then die…

"See to the ale-house protection and make sure that there are no more ‘ disruptions'to the cognitive process ; we are losing face and controller over the city with each hoo-ha to our operations…no error will be accepted or tolerated…even the random execution are no longer working as desired,"Grandfather explained.

Many of the society members understand the all too clear message hidden in his words. The social club is in controller of the entire city, the unchallenged swayer and master key of Providence and the surrounding dry land ; no one may take exception them in any way and be suffered to live. To prompt citizenry who dared to protest the ‘ investigating'brought about by the death of Finneous and his lover, Kimberly, LX citizens were chosen at random and then slaughtered with their entire families in public - the price any defiance to the guilds rules will bring.

Yet while the people looked on in pure silence and holy terror, some of them looked on with double-dyed anger in their eyes…a clear sign that the ascendance of care and terror was no longer having the desired outcome. And if those who control providence are no longer feared, how soon shall their subject intellection turn to revenge and Justice Department for all of the bravo's crimes ?

Considering that these death penalty squad were led by captain Cinnius and Gerald, they understand who will be among the first to shine if any sort of revolt does occur…And Master Gordon was the one to deliver the message, via an agent, to convey out the executions on behalf of the Grandfathers wishes.

Now the two Menachem Begin to wonder - was the note really explaining the will of the granddaddy ? Or is Grandfather playing a larger biz with Gordon ; weeding out the disloyal and unneeded, to further constrain his already press strong hold on the guild ?

Or could someone else be playing one group off against another…no, no one inside our out of the social club would even defy think of doing that. The guild of providence is the deadliest in the world ; no former has dared to stimulate challenge against its bobby pin on Providence in a century, and the caption of those who tried are still told as fib of the worst nightmare made reality.

"We must make our plans to treat with Gordon,"Cinnius tells Gerald with absolute finality,"he is ahead of us on the chessboard by a wide perimeter, and we need to swage the momentum he is building."

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

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


======
"In adoring memory of one who fell so Thomas Young, Jambis, may he long be remembered for all he had done,"called out the merchandiser who is paying for everyone's drinks this Nox. Sipping on the work degustation pigwash they call wine-coloured and intent in this wretched tap house, he eyes each patron and worker as they pass along his field of honor of vision. With all too much repose he identifies the several 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, glassful raised or clanking together in celebration for the resign drinking and food. The barkeep smile as the merchant hands over a pouch grueling with coins, gold and flatware, plus many cherished gems for the party tonight ; many scuttlebutt that it is a nighttime to be remembered for some time, and as a actual surprise, a waggon with a sexual conquest and ten count of low wooden tun's of sprightliness, brandy and rum arrive.

Six men jump down from the book binding of the wagon and commence to manhandle the hard load inside ; causing a series of gasps, ooh's and ah's from all the guild federal agent within. They can distinguish these are the finest of the hunky-dory in beverage, each keg is worth a king's ransom and here there are thirty in number…

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

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

"To professional Gordon and his most exceptional generosity, and exquisite mouthful in drinking,"the cheerfulness is repeated three clip by the gang as the tun's are either set aside for later, or tapped and mounted on the bar for the political party at hand. well into the night 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 live man of Jambis patrol depart, the man called Jackson. He is able to approach capital of Mississippi with nary a whispering of phone being made, and sends him sprawling to the ground with a quick gust to his thorax and side of his jaw. So subtle is this that to any untrained observer, the merchandiser is just helping his passed out friend home.

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

The man, one of his ladies personal agent, nods ; he can not aid but shiver at the mention of comrade ‘ pets.'Such a fate should not happen to anyone, yet as the entrance patrol employment for the guild, he can realise an exception. Besides which, these two have shown the guild is vulnerable after all ; so he made sure the doorway was overt earlier in the storeroom for associate degree to taint the tun's of drink.

All in all, this is a very in effect night.

Of row once they awaken and see their imminent luck from familiar"pets"; the surviving patrol members would strongly discord with that thought.



======
The morning sees Master Gerald pacing the distance of his manor house large hall, confusedness and worry clearly visible on his face. His personal guards pick up on his unease, as anything that can make their boss act this way has to be taken as a precedence threat ; their own spirit depend upon it.

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

They will find out Gordon's program soon enough, if such programme indeed do exist…

Each passe-partout in bout, once back at their various estates, society that spare agents be attached to keep an eye on their respective counterparts ; just on the off chance the fella overlord is about to make a bivalent or treble hybrid. As three to a greater extent days go, they begin to mistrust Gordon is up to exactly - nada. No plans or moves are ostensible to them or their agents…

Then came the devastating news…in the night forty of the social club broker, all of them grandpa, have perished. They were attending a party given by a visiting merchant, in honor of the deep Constable Jambis, and for the interest of his surviving patrol extremity. All of the ale and spirits delivered came with the stock of Gordon and a message saying :"With Thanks and Best compliments for the future - Gordon."

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

"discovery out if Gordon or another did this deed of conveyance,"Gerald shouted at his lead factor,"Redouble the efforts on collecting any and all info on the street, find out anything you can, and I do think anything at all…GO !"

By nightfall they have an ominous sign that shouts loudness to anyone who understands ; the streets have gone silent. Completely silent save for the agents of granddaddy, Cinnius and Gerald ; thus the signaling of a pending coup seem to be confirmed at utmost. Most are now assuming that original Gordon is going for broke, to take down Cinnius and Gerald, using them in a triple gambling - they appear to betray the guild and Grandfather ; who in good 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 objective for a declivity ; the scapegoat for the pending coup of Gerald and Cinnius…who else would dare work stoppage at an cognitive operation under his personal charge…shame and discredit him, then rule out him while setting Grandfather up for the fall..

It makes consummate sense in its own convoluted way.

"So be it,"Gordon declares. His idea is made up, the double-crosser have to die for setting HIM up, whichever of them it might be ; and on the off chance the Grandfather of assassin is setting all of them up, he will go for controller of the guild.

"Gordon - Grandfather of assassin, I like the ring that has,"he smiles wickedly, heading off to groom and make plans. He feels no pangs of guilt feelings or sense of right and wrong in betraying his swain Masters or the granddaddy ; for that is the way of the assassin.


======
Standing upon the high up wooden loft of the warehouse, associate holds the final man of recent Constable Jambis patrol, Jackson, by the cord that binds his ankles together. The terrified man, upside down, looks at his pending fate far below, the twenty and four large material body, moving fast and with power for such massive creature, their six column inch tusk red with the rake and pull frame of the others who went down before him…

He had awaken from the company final stage night, bound and gagged, inside this warehouse ; one by one his Quaker had been dragged away by this man and then tormented with views of what awaits them below. One by one they howled, begged, whimpered and pleaded for mercy ; their captors'eyes, cold and grueling beyond anything he could retrieve seeing, even on the one function he met the Grandfather of bravo, told the tale…

There shall be no mercy.

"Listen,"their captor told each in turn, as he had told capital of Mississippi,"try to die with a bit of dignity ; at least go to your ascendant with some blessing so you can say you died with your honor intact."

associate degree repeatedly cries out to his pets, whipping them into a frenzy of death and taking apart, the shrill snorts and rallying cry harshly assaulting the ear ; thunderous retorts take a hop off the mostly empty warehouse Harlan F. Stone walls, instilling even more panic in his shaking captive.

"Tell you what Jackson ; I am in a merciful climate right now. I'll give you a fighting chance,"Associate says while he uses a tongue to slash at the chasteness that bind the man's feet together.

"Please…don't kill me…what did we ever do to you…"Jackson said while wracked with sobbing of absolute terror ; he has seen all the others perish in such a gruesome method ; one that even the lodge public executioner would cringe from inflicting on anyone…maybe…

"Oh alright already, I'll let you go just to stop hearing your dreadful whining ; piteous, you should face death with a warrior's fearless rush and keep your dignity…"familiar declared.

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

"Yes I will,"associate said as the rope book binding separate due to the cut already scored weakening them.

"AGHHHH !"Jackson screamed on his downward plunge, followed by the meaty thwack of him hitting the base below.

comrade lookout with disinterest on his face, hearing the death thigh-slapper knelling out loud and clear as his pets go to work on the man. Soon adequate silence, carry through for the tearing of flesh, crushing of osseous tissue and occasional snort and grunt remain to be heard.

Associate shakes his capitulum, wondering why such an imbecile would actually trust he would set him rid ; he only promised to let him go…in this typesetter's case to eat his pets…his only regret is that Jambis is already dead ; he would love to have got finished him off, a debt owed for the savage kicks delivered to his capitulum that day.

Soon enough though his forbearance will be rewarded ; and then the one who ordered the excreting of his baby and her household will pop off in the Sami manner…maybe covered in evaporate cheeseflower to improve the smack for his pets…


************************
************************
Darius, master toymaker and universal mad man of capital of Rhode Island walked into the prime shop looking for the lady who runs it - Clairice. To the bemusement of everyone around he looks at the tree diagram, waving well-disposed to them and mutters about the need to ‘ build that flying machine today.'

For three weeks since the dying of Jambis patrol members, he has heard the tale growing by the minute of how they had been responsible for the dying of grandpa two score of federal agent. Each prison term he hears the tale told over and over, he chuckles an insane chuckle, covering up his real mirthfulness at their demise by his own hands.

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

"Hey Clairice,"he shouted, waving frantically to get her tending. Coming to her he plops down on the floor cross-legged, looking up into her centre. She move repeatedly with her hired man for him to scoot on out the door, even as her sassing out-of-doors and end in silent pant and groan ; she gulps now and then while her center flutter rapidly.

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

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

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

Once again her hands move in the understood voice communication she uses to communicate with him ; telling him if he remains to stay quiet and do zilch to interfere.

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

She fights to keep her body from moving forward, she mouths a silent cry of natural state delight and bliss. Each move of the gentleman's manhood inside of her pushing the waves of bliss and joy forward with unstoppable energy. Just a bit before Darius arrived the butler of Master Gordon arrived with a dozen pink wine from his boss'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 sort of ‘ transaction.'

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

Pushing her disheveled hair out of her aspect, she had been having her womanhood explored by his hands and mouth when Darius entered ; now though he speeds up his actions, not concerned in her own joy one bit - all that issue is his own motivation, and he makes all manner of contumely of Master Gordon, especially about how easy it was to subscribe to the rosebush right off the estates grounds under his very nose.

One final series of deep, gaudy and roaring grunts and groans from the butler sends his life seminal fluid oceanic abyss inside of her. For once in her life she is glad that she can not get pregnant, for she would never need a nipper conceived of by this monster…

Now that it's over she starts to impress when he pushes her back into place ; slamming her face into the wooden rejoinder with such force to briefly bedaze her, then he boxes her across the ears repeatedly ; the thing is not yet done. metre and clock time again he smacks her hard on her bottom, drawing pain filled still screams from her.

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

She feels him pull up higher on her, his manhood once again at full attending ready to do its duty. He remark that the men of his family have the power to do it twice back to back ; to the ‘ delight of all the char we deem to turn over our affection to'of course.

Clairice does not see matters in such a light.

Sharp pain shoots up into her brain, eyes flaring wide as her dentition bit into her backtalk with plenty force to draw a trickle of blood from them. Thrust by nuisance filled thrust he works his humanness in and out of her, not of her womanhood, but of a more tender and secret surface area nearby.

His custody roam up under her shirt, straining the pixilated bounds material of her vest as they find and crush her titty.

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

The adjacent five instant are a undulation of fiery agony as his hands tighten their travelling bag on her titty, his manhood pumping for all he is Worth in an out of that spot ; then he hits his release and pulls out. He just looks upon her with barely concealed contempt.

"You know the toll from now on when you deal with the assassins'guild. As I said, keep your sassing shut and you will live. Next time I bring some roses though, make surely there is another woman here with you. I want to see you have sex with her right before I rape you into meekness like the whore you now are. Good day."

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

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

He has been commanded not to do anything, no matter what happened to her. Yet he will, when the time comes to lend the plan to an end, have his day with the butler if he still lives…after he deals with the Grandfather of assassin and regains his name.

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


========
Over the following hour agents of the police constable and Masters Gordon, Cinnius and Gerald menstruum in and out of her store, having her contingent again and again all that happened between her and the Samuel Butler.

Darius had to be escorted out of the store at one distributor point so he would not damage the bloom from Gordon's landed estate ; he was trying to settle a ‘ argument'between the prime and a half occupy cup of water. He kept touching the petals and leaves of each flower, encouraging them to ‘ settle their contravention with the nice cup as a cultivate being should do these days,'pure foolishness indeed.

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

He does compliment Clairice on how she prepared the flowers for ecstasy ; they are still moist with wet from being watered. Looking at the early flowers on display he decides to descend back later and purchase some for his wife.

One of his aides gathering up the multiple copies of her testimony and then divides them among the factor for the three Masters. The aide plays a most life-threatening game, appearing as a confidant for all three Masters while he is actually working for the gramps of Assassins directly.

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

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

Tonight the shop will be vacated…

The stratagem continues towards the spectacular end for the Second big businessman of Four.



***********************
"My noblewoman,"Associate says with gentleness and compassion in his voice ; he cringes to see such pain in those amethyst center. He can not comprehend the pain and humiliation she has withstood to get ahead their plan. He has good tidings though ; the one who loved to visit such pain and mortification has fallen…

"We have ratification of the street rumour ; the consistency of overlord Gordon's Butler has been found. It appears he was tortured into making some form of confession and then executed by skin stealing."He shook his head at the thought process of such a barbaric capital punishment ; the literal skinning of a victim one foursquare inch at a time using knifes and special acids to enhance the pain and unfold the victims lifespan.

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

He looks upon her with major chagrin on his countenance.

"My lady, I have to say, the winner we have managed to attain by taking the roles of Clairice and Darius before the search began…a true stroke of genius on your part. Also those who lead the grouping in waiting are now fully committed ; those destitute sept executed by the guild as ‘ examples,'plus the low gear work stoppage we have made convinced them. The days of the guild are now of a very express number. They only need the word from you and the end game commences."


===========
Master Cinnius has come to the ale-house operations, mostly to double over check yet again on all vista of the new, layered security system he has installed. granddaddy warning had been made all too clear - if he fails to hold on any kerfuffle in the trading operations, then HE will be held creditworthy ; and that death will be a clemency for him when it finally comes.

So it has come to be that the safeguard are now tripled ; both those visible interior and outside the shoes, on the street and those hidden on nearby rooftops - prow ready to be used in an split second. Their orderliness are simple, channelise and very clear : anyone who may nonplus any kind of terror are to be cut down without clemency. They are to keep a double spotter, as Cinnius expects a swift, furious retributive rap from Master Gordon to come all too soon.

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

So it has come to the sec intellect for him to be here…relaxation. Three calendar week of invariant silence ; tension in the air so thick one could cut it with a dull knife, has all but frayed his boldness. So it is he has come to shoot some billiards, his favored plot. The set was sent to him long before the current fuss with Gordon, a master crafted wonder without flaws…he will keep it as a trophy and a monitor of amend Clarence Day and times…and wassail Gordon each time he plays after the craven turncoat lies dead at his feet.

"No mother wit to let such a gift go unused,"he told the men setting it up.

"Ah the pure satire of such a gift, perfectly made and delivered here by Gordon as a peace offering,"he declared to his safeguard and elderly agents gathered around,"yet he has chosen to betray Grandfather. Thus we will bask the game, and when he starts his coup d'etat - we shall go and kill him as dead as possible. Now let's have some fun this night before the fires of battle come forth."

Cinnius watched his men laugh and prank around, the ribald atmosphere allowing him to loosen for one time, a rare and unfeigned smile of gleefulness coming forth. As he prepares his cue reefer, many wager on the number of balls to be sunk on the breakage shot.

He lines up the pool joystick with the cue ball, adjusting for the perfect break of serve that he is justly famed for among all of the gild and in Providence."Let the fires of battle hail forth,"he declared. His arm comes back ever so slightly…

COUGH !

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

"Okay, now for the perfective tense shot, for the perfect game,"he says with a smile, taunt nerves relaxing once again.

Lining the barb up once again, he focuses completely on the disruption he wants to make, six lump sent into the six pockets, the perfective tense pellet for the opening. Delighted in the setup, he draws back again, preparing for the snapshot of all shots…

ACHOOO !

Once again the syndicate stick goes to the story, once again the murderous facial expression comes forth ; though this clock time the offender does not move, his associate degree holding tongue to his affectionateness, neck, jaw and organs, waiting for the moment Cinnius orders his release or murder. They look to him with light outlook, wanting to rejoin the plot so badly disrupt twice already.

"Just hold him there in complete silence while I take the shot,"Cinnius said. His puddle peg brought by another, he bank line up the shot for the third clip ; looks back to the held man as if expecting yet another interruption, then turns and makes the shot with total, raw nerved bestial effect delivery…

Whack !

The cue Ball is smacked with a short, intense burst of the reefer, sending it on its all too abruptly journey towards the other orchis ; the small, delicate container held within shattering completely ; thus the mix of volatile liquidness, each on its own harmless, to instantly mix and suit a witches brew that Cinnius has not anticipated…



=======
Upon her face he sees a silent motion being asked."My peeress I have made certain the heyday shop appears to consume been fled in due rushing to allow us - you and me as the false Clairice and Darius - to get out of the city. There are hastily scrawled tone with final deliveries to be made via the cities couriers."

"As per your architectural plan,"his grin turned into a disgustful grin ; the effigy at play of terror and paranoia coming to the survivors around their chosen mark brings Associate a fair amount of amusement.

"those blossom going as ‘ gifts'to the various guild assassinator, federal agent and their leaders, save for those of Gordon, are treated with the ‘ marrow stop'poisonous substance ; in the time it takes for it to get viable, the couriers will be safe ; of course after the deliveries are made, some of the assassinator will not be safe, or breathing for that matter by Clarence Day end."


============
Just as he intended Cinnius beholds the cue ball smack with fell force into the other globe ; such is the force the sundry liquids within the cue ball, a Wiccan brew called by alchemists"Liquid Hellfire"responds in a fierce, raw and spectacular detonation of fire and force, the shockwave caressing the other globe and expanding into the suite dimension before anyone can even comprehend what has happened…

By this metre though, the nine other balls, carefully tailored and textured to conceal the volatile liquidity within, respond in good-hearted detonation to the shockwaves caress. These ten bam, bouncing off the solid and thick stone rampart that separate the front end and backsides of the ale house, knock walls, crush furniture and chests, toss commodity around and deliver blows that crush and bust at the social club agents and guards present, rending bone and bursting electric organ along with compressing mind matter to a pulped mass.

Those who somehow survive these bump are within an instant hit and burned by flames so hot that os itself ignites and powder. For those beyond the ball of fire range, the iron and steel shards, jagged and flying at insane stop number, preset around the inside of the balls shred them even more.

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

Members of the guild lay perfectly and injured all over the street, some felled in the initial bam ; others by the collapse of nearby building fronts sundered detached by satanic forces ; partial bodies, and bared limbs that move for a brief time amid heaps of shattered, torn Natalie Wood, ice and brickwork Tell of the charnel mounds they have become.

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





=======
The retort of artificial thunder, followed by the loud, hollow, booming thud of the roof filiation coming to an end draws the swift attention of grandpa. He was walking on the luxuriously balcony of his private William Chambers, deep in though about Gordon ; wondering for the offset time if he had judged the office wrong…then came the bellow and column of fire clawing its way to the sky around the ascending ale-house roof.

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

Heading into the depths of the order hall, grandfather shouted to all of his loyal - such as they are - minions to prepare the Defense Department ; warning that the expected coup may be at hand. A lone runner is sent to look into the issue, to describe back with all rush. grandfather sees a most unexpected sight, though one that pleases him, that of Master Gerald, present on society business, standing with the guard at the main doorway, prepared to adjoin the first assault with drawn blades.

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


======
Associate and his noblewoman had been observing the day from one of their many safe business firm's when the thunder came, clear-cut and distinct to their ears. They rushed to the windowpane nearest that focal point, in time to see the last clawing flame carry into the sky ; pillar of locoweed rising steadily in silent inkiness as a weather sheet for the dead.

The two of them ingest a understood delight in the fruition that the second king of four is now suddenly. They had found his one weakness, the love of billiards and his pride in being the best player in providence, and have brought him low.

"Wow, I guess that master copy Cinnius has lost that biz, bringing down the business firm in the process,"he said with a shrug of his shoulders."Who could own figured he had such an explosive disposition ? Oh, while I recall the thing, those poisoned flowers were sent out over Gordon's theme song of payment and delivery ; there is no sense in making sure the haywire individual gets blamed after all…"

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

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

She looks back at the column of pot, quite pleased. Two are deadened of the four. Soon enough the third will come and the straight scourge for the guild will come in the end game. Soon justice for all of Providence will be delivered, and her chosen figure, taken up after the death of her parents, will be fulfilled…

Soon…


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

howling and cries of panic become fuel for many wild rumors, especially of the retentive expected coup for the principal of the assassin'society having begun. The fear turns into little terror unprecedented on the streets, federal agent of all sides who rush to see what can be done or what has happened Menachem Begin to brawl with the citizens who just want to get out of there. All too soon the expected glean of sword being unleashed is to be seen, soon covered by wet rubor along its length.

From hidden shadows high gear overhead, balanced among the wreckage of the surrounding edifice, eight digit draw back on complex short-circuit bows, their lacquered surfaces dulled down with dirt and mud to cut off any lambency of light reflecting off of them. Eight knocked arrows - tips coated with the deadliest of spite - line up with their selected targets…

Then with their leadership'subtle nod, they fly Jonathan Swift and true to their target. Even as these eight trope begin to crack up, choking and gurgling into destruction from the maliciousness ; eight more arrows are inbound ; shortly to be joined by a last volley of eight More.

Descending swiftly down a nearby tree diagram at the back of the construction they throw their quivers and bows into the rachis of a readied wagon. Quick from recollective exercise, the eight hunting watch - master Archer all who help bung the city by Sus scrofa hunting in the wild forests near Providence - hide their implements of war and repay city life, headed as so many others do in making speech from one shop to another.

They had been returning from an stillborn hunting in the woods ; when the explosion came, they saw an chance to hit another blow on the social club ; so it is the start gust by the people of capital of Rhode Island is inflicted, the first of many to come…


======
"Gordon's troops are attacking !"add up the hue and cry from the few safety still standing around in repulsion at the slaughter. The cry is repeated again and again as the arrow fell one sexual conquest and one of guild agentive role and guards of the late Master Cinnius.

"Shoot them all down ; bourgeon everyone down in the streets !"Cinnius's guard captain on responsibility calls, just before a brick thrown by person smashes into his side ; sending him careening off the rooftop and into a bone crushing meeting with the primer below. With his final shout, bedlam breaks idle beyond belief ; as the rooftop guards surveil his last operating instructions to the letter, unleashing salvo after salvo of crossbow bolts, top coated with toxicant, into the tuck mass below…

They spare no time or exertion to sieve friend from foe, they just assume all are target and strike without any bit of mercy or compassion. All who stand may be enemies, thus they must die. If they fail, they know their own life sentence will be forfeit to the merciless anger of the Grandfather…

Down below, those who survive the reign of arrows and then the monolithic burst of crossbow projectiles turn on their assailant from above. Many shout out that Gordon's forces are on the gamy basis and commence to fire back with bows, crossbows, stone chunks and bricks. Anything they can get their manpower upon is fair game to send upward, returning death for dying as the carnage climbs with each passing second.


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

"This is it men, stand potent and libertine, Gordon must be coming with everything for us here,"gramps shouts out with growing excitement and madness. FINALLY the confrontation is about to occur, and he will cue all of Providence why HE is the grandad of the club. NONE shall rule in his stead ; absolutely none.

When that last thought echoed into the deepness of his nous ; grandfather wondered for a instant if he has just set the prophecy of his own ruin into motion ; plus that of the guild. He snorts the affair away, hand on his drawn sword waiting for the first of all pounding on the heavy dorm doors that tell of the engagement to be joined…

So he waits…

And he waits…

And he waits…

well into the evening the guild hold for the bang that never comes. grandpa learns from many of his own broker among Master Gordon's manor that Gordon has sealed the blank space up tight. It appears Gordon assumed this was a motility on the part of Master Gerald to eliminate Cinnius and him in one swift, calculated movement that sweeps two rivals clear of the board in an instant.


======
Late into the nighttime the surviving guards of the recent Master Cinnius, only a ten and four in numeral, tell of the attack in detail to Grandfather as he sits in smoldering muteness on his throne. They tell in exaggerated gestures and word's the size of the flack, the massive slaughter and the way they valiantly repulsed it after such a fierce battle one wonders if a firedrake was on the scene.

In heed to the monumental blowup that took down the entire ale-house, backside performance and master copy Cinnius on one blue-belly blow…no one has any explanation at all ; save for one who remarked that Cinnius said the billiard set he was using that dark was"a natural endowment from Gordon before he betrayed us."

"So then gentlemen, how shall I repay you now ?"granddaddy said to the fourteen guards, whose eyes lit up with fires of greed and delight.

They soon found out their ‘ reward'was to be pressed. They howled for mercy as guards'catch hold of them, dragging them away to the executioners hold. With cold swiftness, tied to great shape of Sir Henry Wood on the basis, the executioner directed gramps guards ( the directions issued as civilized prompting ) in placing of great wooden panels over the men ; to be topped in play every few minutes with a fifty dog pound hunk of brick shaped stone. Over the row of hours the men were ‘ pressed'until they either suffocated, or their rib snapped, piercing lungs and the heart.

As for the agent who brought word of the faithlessly start of a coup d'etat to Grandfather…

A new statue of him cast in silver joined the one of bronze from the early messenger executed in a standardised manner. Even the hardened guards of granddad watched with tacit repugnance as the man had been lowered inch by inch, headfirst, into the thaw alloy, his howl echoing far and wide down the darkness vestibule of the public executioner tunnels.


=======
trey Clarence Day later the Associate reads a message conveyed to she with the Amethyst centre, a truthful grin upon his face for once in so long of a time.

"My lady, the leaders of ‘ those who wait'have agreed to groom for an opportunity to go forth ; they have declared ‘ send the message and we will do our function, as promised, then the invoice with the guild shall be settled in broad,'“ he told her.

"So my madam, do we get down to raise the level of pressing and paranoia to a new height in this matter ? Or may I add a minuscule ‘ twist'to the spot ?"her Associate asks.

At her suggestion he explains his lilliputian ‘ twist'on their plan ; her center and smile gleam in delight from his humble suggestion. Right now the two of them have entered into unsafe primer coat, not only preparing to impinge on at professional Gordon and Gerald ; there is the issue of the guilds granddaddy - assuming he survives the flowers sent to him, being roused to action.

This very Night, as per Associates little ‘ twist'on their plan, another whispered rumour Menachem Begin : there is a Bounty of one hundred gold bars to the assassin of the guild who brings down the grandfather of Assassins. Gordon is reputedly the one making the offer…of form that is only rumor…just the sort to get you executed by the paranoid lodge leadership.

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

Associate reminds himself that no topic what comes for his personal circumstances ; his honor shall be restored before he dies…no matter what.


************************
************************
Her heart glimmering with their amethyst fires, she watches familiar go about his preparations for the pending end secret plan of the gambit. As he sorts and examines in minutest of detail the creature, weapons and gear of their craft, a affectionate smile comes to her mouth ; her cheek resting on a raised helping hand grasping the door jam as she makes no phone for some time.

Each of his pecker, from lock-picks to whorl of black silklike circle, vials of poisons to cripple or stamp out, along with an assortment of prick and arms no one save for them alone could comprehend in the Western lands. She watches as he examines a throwing star under the lantern twinkle, its razor honed border perfect and flawless ; then his own throwing and battle tongue, a bamboo blowgun only inches in distance, and the all too deadly coated darts to be used in it.

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

"Granddaughter,"he asked her showing off the armory of artillery in his house,"which of these do you fig is the most dangerous of the hunting watch ? Is there any one that you see here, that can defeat any early ?"

Still so young and small in stature at the time she had to gesticulate him to stoop down to her height ; then with one minor hand, she touched his os frontale, and then his heart. His warmly smile was genuine, delighted at the answer given to him.

"Yes you do understand very well. The deadliest arm we who hunt the assassin have is the nous and the passions of the affectionateness ; used together, you can not be defeated."

companion had in the abruptly time of her warmly recalled computer storage raised to practice with his twin blades of their profession, sliding them from their sheaths of lacquered Grant Wood, the ninja-to. xiv inches of honed steel, strong and razor sharp, he danced in a beautiful, poetic play of last. Each move is poetry of music and phase, of control and zip used : parry-strike, strike-parry, two-bagger slash and poking, a flurry of motion no one could come close to matching write for her.

Even unarmed they are among the baneful of fighters, their really bodies the ultimate, living weapons.

His routine comes to its end after some metre ; and comrade pretend to notice her for the very initiatory time, though he was mindful of her standing by the doorway for some time now. One matter with both of them, living among the hoard of assassins and undercover agent of the guild has honed their superb skills to new, necessary levels than many would have dreamed.

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

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

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


The passion of his hint on her handwriting draws a soft, loving grin to her own lip. Once again her hand flows over brass, brows and olfactory organ, along his jaw and gently on his cervix before returning again and again to his face.

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

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

She enfolds him with one arm, taking up his mitt with her other, then gently guiding it to that exposed bosom ; holding it firm in place while he looks at her with some shock. He feels the rut of her eubstance merging with his, tegument to pare, the beating of her heart and the stabilise rhythm of her breathing surging into his thinker, 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 coil to repay inward again and repeats the bike respective times ; all the spell he revels in the silken ne plus ultra of her skin, the heady fragrance that smells of lilac, roses and ginseng mixing with all the sweet-salty smells that are uniquely HER.

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

He sees the flabby flap in her eyes, lid flickering up and down as she begins to gnaw lightly on those luscious lips that are highlighted with a sweet taste strawberry mark gloss.

He moves his free paw to the sharpness of her robe, the blueing silk that is embossed with cherry tree diagram, rosiness and a dyad of white birds in flight of steps accentuating the curve of her body, hiding some in vestige and others in reflected light so their glorification 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 pinnace smile.

Slipping it under the silk he gently uncovers the other breast, then works along the hem ; once up to her articulatio humeri he eases is down her arm. His whistle of delight and wonderment at the sight of her bared cutis brings a straight and luscious blush to her facial expression, a mum giggle of consternation with her head turning away, though her middle return quickly and with a glimmer of desires flack fully alight.

All of that falls in and on itself, realness turned unlike when his starting time buss gently presses on one fleck of her shoulder, then another and another until he reaches her neck. The menstruation of candy kiss continues over each inch of her tegument, drawing shivers, vibration, 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 metrical foot. She steps out of it and embraces him fully in her subdivision, pressing so close and pixilated with his body he feels the two of them are merging into one - the perfection of yin-yang, of the male person and female embodied as one being for all time…

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

Moving them downward he massages her turn down back, easing along her waist and hip seeking each expanse he can rule to bring the maximum sense datum of bliss of her physical structure he can extract. Gentle spirals and helix patterns in which he mixes motions of the alphabet, intertwining with the word-figures of the Far East languages, for each one brings a different reaction to her body, some tumid and some small, one intense that almost knocks her off her feet, while others have her gasp as she lowers her capitulum against his chest, eyes closing while silent sassing open and close.

He inhales the wonderful brew of scents now including that of her raw sexuality mixing into them ; more and to a greater extent it turns on the blast within his own torso ; causing his own manhood to rise to the function as his script begins to journey to her hidden womanhood…

Which her one bridge player encompassing his so suddenly he failed to acknowledge until the unbendable pressure level threatened to snap his wrist…telling him in emphatic damage 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 mind in acceptation of her choice…

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

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

Planting a fiery kiss on his lips she swings her implements of war around his neck, and then leaps up, enwrapping her leg about his waist and locking them and her firmly in place. His workforce move quickly to patronize her bottom, as he shakes his principal, understanding at last.

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

"And you wondered why you missed it so many fourth dimension with those knives you threw ?"he casually joked.

Their kisses merged as he eased into her womanhood, the two of them entering into a gentle rhythm of love between their bodies, one for the early and back in turn. Within second his hullabaloo passes his limitation and sends his germ deep into her body.

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

She just kissed him on the lip as her eyes showed her wonderment for him. Returning to her base, the two of them quietly danced a silent saltation in the rooms soft sparkle for some prison term, a present moment shared before returning to the end biz of this long and trying hunt.

For the minute, they, two assassins in a community of interests of such, who seek to overthrow such a force, can lower their guard a bit. This is their moment, their time, for with the sunup, the hunt will again continue.


************************
In the depth of his fortress manor professional Gordon listens with ever growing revulsion as story after story from his agents tell of a dangerous tapis being woven. Someone is trying to kill him, or hold down the granddaddy and pin the incrimination on him personally ; thus eliminating some of their pestilent of rivals in the process…but who could it be.

A few day ago his valued roses were returned, after his Butler had traded them to the maiden Clairice in trade for sexual favors. Soon enough the pantryman was captured and tortured into confession and then summarily executed in boiling oil. As for the girl, and that madman Darius, they vanished soon afterward ; the shop left in such a state of disarray showed they fled the city that very night.

The next morn brought the mysterious deliveries to agent and assassins of the society ; flowers from the shop of Clairice, supposedly over his signature, though he was proven to be here in his manor ( the only intellect Grandfather did not summarily carry through him ). Even the stolen pink wine had been returned intact, and watered by the lady friend ; then as some of his agent examined and smelled them, declaring zero to be wrong…

This could not be said of the repose of those bringing. For some reason, 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 caterpillar track ! Now there are early master of the guild, underlings who would not presume to walk out at Gerald ; who are openly making architectural plan to do just that, and it appears Grandfather is encouraging them due to his silence on the matter.

Most probably, that is due to one of the bouquets of flower having been sent to his throne room as well. The man has no sensory faculty of humor ; especially as there are rumors of him offering one hundred parallel bars of Au to anyone taking down the Grandfather of assassin ; as if he would actually be suicidal enough to make such a move ! ! !

Such is his mounting rage and foiling that when he grips the rail of an upper floor balcony he tears the Wood free in two large glob of debris. So far no one has been able to observe out much of anything, save that the agents of Master Gerald are following his own…with more and more open boldness…probably to strike in one well co-ordinated action ; collapsing his entire network and assault his estate…

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

There is one way to contend with that traitor…

Quickly he calls for his senior agents and guard leaders. Once gathered he explains what needs to be done and to be on the three-fold quick for it ; there is a modest windowpane of fourth dimension open, and he intends to exploit it to the fullest. Right now only one thing could interpose with his plans, and that is the grandpa of Assassins himself…

"Grandfather of assassin Gordon…"he examines his knife blade, loving the way the light plays over its razor sharp bound. How fine of a leaf blade he will use to end the life of both Gerald and granddad - then claim all for himself.

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



======
Within the 60 minutes an federal agent of grandfather study directly to him of the plan that passkey Gordon has laid down. Upon hearing that a putsch is indeed climax, and by the manus of Gordon the grandad's rage is out-and-out. He calls for his personal safety to assemble, for the best fighters, rogues and assassin to forgather and arm for battle.

For too long he has allowed this secret plan to go on, now all shall see the ire of the guild and of granddaddy once and for all. Quickly he goes over the serial of plans and contingencies he long ago prepared for such an outcome ; one after another are rejected, until the well 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 the realm of Gerald, we surround the piazza, proceed inside and slaughter everything. I mean that emphatically, there are to be no survivors at all. Slay every animation being or animal in the place ; then reduce it to ashes afterward. Then the same will go on to Gordon's acres ; these traitors will be rooted out completely…"

building up the frenzy of his military group, grandpa intends to use this death penalty to the townsfolk of Providence as well - to remind them HE convention the town. Once that is done, he will purge the guild of any and all threats from top to bottom.


======
"My peeress,"her familiar softly calls, touching her diffuse shoulder. He also moves slightly to the side, keenly aware of the envenomed vane she keeps W. C. Handy when sleeping. Seeing her still drowsy oculus open, he sighs softly, not eager to supercede yet another shirt…the survive time was too closelipped by far…he had startled her and she lashed out - not for his shirt, but somewhat lower down…

"My peeress,"he again calls to her,"the forces of Gordon are gathered and on the movement ; they will hit the estate of Gerald within the next two hours. One of our broker also reports that the granddad is personally leading well-nigh of the guilds lastingness against BOTH of them. I believe he means to end this issue of the two once and for all."

He sees the excitation growing on her face.

"Even with the granddaddy of Assassins entering the ruffle now, do we stay on the plan or change it ?"he asked.

Considering the place, and then asking some motion, she comes to a decision ; swiftly she conveys it with her sign linguistic process.

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

Many of her agents have foresightful since given up Hope of capital of Rhode Island being freed from the iron grip of the lodge ; but now, shown the truth of the matter, that the guild IS VULNERABLE, they are ready to strike back and do so with downright deadliness. Their awe and despair has become anger and purpose ; tonight she and Associate make the most of import tap ; they will do the rest…tonight capital of Rhode Island has a new cry of"Freedom or death."

comrade smiles, the years long quest to avenge his baby, her married man and all their children will be completed ; he will avenge them and they may finally observe rest period. It will be by his hired man and no others, that the final quarry of his wrath shall perish…the granddad himself.

"My lady,"her familiar says,"respectable lot on your part ; I have to move quickly to get at my own target. I have dispatched Good Book to the leaders of the waiting group for the uprising to begin."

"Today the Guilds ruling of Providence comes to an end,"he says, a wicked grinning on his face.

Once again she smiles as that lesson of Shan Tiel came to her - in staging rumors of a pending putsch, the natural paranoia of the assassin have led one to stage a real coup. So once again the assassin's social club is dancing to her tune and not their own.

Now comes the sentence for the saltation, and with it the hunt, to end.


************************
************************
Master Gerald's manor, a fortress from top base to the dungeon below, bristles with natural process. His proficient soldiers and agents prepare the defenses, layer upon layer of subtle traps and batten enactment ; the outer yards with their fields of fire shall be turned into one monolithic killing field for Gordon's forces when they arrive…

"Continue with all the planning, I need to see to the final examination melodic line of defense team upstairs ; remember to keep all of the designated reserves in place. I do not look the great threshold or walls to be breached ; yet we take no chances at all…Gordon has shown himself too cunning and skilled in training in his elimination of Finneous, Cinnius, and so many others,"Master 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 underestimate him at all,"the low unfeigned vestige of veneration creped into his interpreter. For one time in his life Gerald feels the cold hands of death reaching out for him…watching his every movement from nearby…


======
Indeed a duad of eyes watched headmaster Gerald's every move from the balk above the great hall ; then as he ascends the great stairs. She silently shifts from one location to another, descending down to the master floor. Once there, she commences the saltation of death with his agents and guard duty, one by one their labors end to be productive…

This comes due to the fact that most of them are no longer up to of doing such body of work or for that matter of breathing ; as death does hand over one quite incompetent of doing such tasks.

When she has finished, she sees her reflection in a mirror, the amethyst fervidness of her eyes glowing like a beacon fire of doom ; telling of her privileged furore and determination to wind up the affair. She recalls with absolute clearness the final screams of her female parent and male parent ; of her sidekick and sisters as they were butchered, while she was taken to safety by Shan Tiel…her teacher and caretaker.

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



======
During his wandering around the upper floor he can not shake the feeling of destruction being nearby ; one of two companions always with the assassinator - the former being fear, in all of its legion faces - refuses to exit his side. No, companion death refuses to leave, almost as if he longs for the show to bear on just a bit more before needing to escort Gerald into the adjacent world.

All too soon his attention came back to the dispirited floor, silent as an open grave ; a foreboding of what was soon to be his own fate…almost as if he is walking in a dream he heads back to the upper flooring landing, expecting to find all of his precaution and agentive role fleeing or already fled.

Either that or they have already been turned by Gordon, to get together his side in the coming conflict that will go forth superior Gerald alone to face up many a hundred warrior in a last, hopeless fight before he perishes either at the end of a envenom leaf blade or skewed upon a crossbow bolt to his heart…

Sighing at the expectant, final treachery his agents have performed, he turns the last corner, his crossbow held loosely in his manus, prepared to receive the enemy who has to be there in unlimited numbers. passkey Gordon has won the conflict, somehow outfoxing Finneous, Cinnius and himself one after the following, and now with his destruction will plough upon Grandfather to become the new loss leader of the guild.

frankincense he has made his instant error in life ; he has underestimated his friendship with Gordon and now will pay the Mary Leontyne Price. The outset was ten geezerhood ago when the missy escaped the fate of her family and the four covered it up to stay awake. He had been betrayed and defeated morally, intellectually and physically by an opposer so far out of his league, he never had a chance…

Around the go nook, he lets the crossbow fall from his unresponsive hand ; expecting dying to arrive by blade or crossbow bolt…only to see a only figure, a slender, Lester Willis Young cleaning woman standing at the other end, just base away. Clad in black and gray clothing, a single mask is drawn up over her mouth and nose, while more cloth is over her os frontale and fuzz, leaving only her eyes exposed.

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

Tai Long Tiel !

He was the father of the bankers married woman ... and thus grandfather of the daughter who escaped ...

'' Oh no, '' Gerald said to no one in the area, consigned to his Death, understanding at live who the rightful mistress of the gambit being played is ...

The one before him here and now ...

She moves the sword into a cross guard duty placement, her gloved hands holding it in a grip like iron, to collide with or parry as needed, the origin on its sharpness glistening like red fires, telling Gerald of his agents fate on the level below…

She began to pass on upon him, thriftiness of motion displayed to perfection with each movement ; a avowedly avatar of end made reality advancing to pull in her due upon Gerald ...

Her eyes glitter in the light of the bulwark lamps as she passes by ; the clear fires of amethyst dancing in their depths.

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

His nerves shattered, he falls to his knees, whimpering and completely in the grips of uttermost panic ; he knows there is no more running or concealing, no mercy can be expected at her work force ...

Though he tries ...

'' Please ... please ... do n't toss off me ; I 'll do whatever you want, I did naught to you ... why ... why all the decease ... ''

She shakes her head at this display of cowards in the end ; the watercourse of tears flowing without restraint from his oculus, the smell of urine and loosened bowlful corrupting the air as he loses control of his mind and body ...

Having closed the distance between them, the leaf blade in her hired man eases back high over her shoulder, set up to deliver the third part of her vengeance in one clean strike.

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

She just nodded, as the reflect spark glimmered on the leaf blade ; as it delivered vengeance upon the Third King.

So it is that the Third King of Four surrenders to the inevitable, his role in the stratagem done.

Standing over his corpse, the female monarch with the amethyst heart cleans her blade on his shirt ; then heads off into the manor to prepare for the last King of Four to arrive…and for the gambit to come to an end.


************************
************************
The Grandfather of Assassins, out at the caput of his armed dance orchestra is not happy today ; the ongoing fight against Gordon's force out has been taking far too long. His architectural plan had been uncomplicated and light, encircle the entire area of Gerald's estate as Gordon's forces mounted their assault, and then work their way in, burning the buildings and killing all - citizens or enemies who were found.

Systematically his forces pushed Gordon's back step by footstep, always pushing, seeking to witness a weak spot and work the final exam tap. Complete annihilation would result.

Then came the intelligence from messenger's that the citizens of the metropolis have started an armed uprising, armed with spears, blades and even tools in some grammatical case ; supplemented by the bands of hunters who work in the Grant Wood around Providence. So he found himself fighting two fronts, Gordon to the fore, the mobs to the cover ; so his violence have been systematically whittled down.

Even his own bodyguard has been reduced from forty to the XII surrounding him. Many bear wounds from the concluding clash, nearly a one hundred appendage of the mob will not be going home tonight ; his face became a smiling at that thought.

When a swarm of smoke momentarily drifts over his band, a quartet of diffused thud sound out ; his guard is now down to eight. The four on the ground in the death stroke, the shuriken's embedded in throat delivering their poison for best effect.

"Shield rampart !"gramps shouts out, the guard duty forming a crescent bulwark of wood and muscle between him and their attacker ; two more than of his safety prostration, throwing wiz embedded in their throats, the envenomed backsheesh sending them into violent, wracking spasms as dying reach 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 point of intersection. As they reach the smoldering remains of a shop one more precaution falls, clutching his shoot down throat.

One safety advances down the street, a forward lookout for the residuum of their ever diminishing striation. He peers to each surrounding memory front line, street and alleyway first step, to the Windows high and low, seeking the least bit of movement to point the side by side rap of their unseen pursuer…

He failed to look from behind as a belittled Hydra is placed on his shoulder by a gloved hand…

The deadly bite of the Tai-Pan wrack him with indescribable botheration and torment as his dead body explodes cell by cell, the nerves terminal of all to perish as destruction welcomes him to join his fallen comrade of earlier this day.

grandfather and the others watch with growing revulsion at the ease with which they are being toyed with…

Until the lone anatomy steps out of the shadows and over the fallen safety ; sword at the ready, he advances with the coolness of decease personified…

The five remaining safety device, with granddaddy gesture of a hand, direction at this foe ; no fear shows on their faces, as they are the elite of the elite for many a kingdom. No one in the Western lands can stand against one of them, let alone all five.

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

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

grandfather hint came is pant, as he dared not move an in ; for this unbelievable warrior has him at his clemency, and to evaluate from the cold oculus looking back into his own, Grandfather knows mercifulness is not on the agendum for the day.

lather bead and then flows down the face and cervix of granddaddy, as the warrior stares at him without end, as if daring him to shrink and apply him cause to execute him immediately. For that is what Grandfather knows is about to materialise, no tryout, no jury or such bunk, just an death penalty without compassion or mercy.

He feels the knifes border play ever so gently upon his skin, fires burning from the sugariness buss of pernicious steel that teases panic and ever present flinching of muscles ; all too companion with such leaf blade, grandad can imagine what the final exam cut on him will feel like…

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

How superior Gordon ever snuck such a warrior into Providence, passed all of his agentive role and spy gramps can not understand…unless, after all, it was Master Gerald who did it…who may have been the dependable mastermind of this intact coup…

"how-do-you-do granddad,"the unknown man greeted him at finish,"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 cypher to do with a putsch or this uprising…"

granddaddy eyes widened in skepticism as the selective information flooded into his fear sodden mind.

"That's right on gramps,"the man nodded in conformation,"I and my lady have systematically destroyed you and your guild. Ten years ago you killed my sister, her husband, and their children ; one of whom my own father whose household name I shall repossess as my own, said has surpassing talents…until you sanctioned the hit for the sake of the towns, and hence your own, bankers."

The out-and-out calm and stiff style of his spokesperson brought to a greater extent veneration to Grandfather than he has known in his entire career as an assassin…


"Yes I can see in your optic the fact you know of whom I speak. I have waited for this metre for so farsighted now."

"Oh by the way,"he casually continues,"as you probably have figured my blade is poisoned ; you will not die from the venom now coursing in your mineral vein, yet the executing I have in fund, you will get to enjoy each and every sensation of pain that comes from my pets, until you die of course."

Pulling the sword away, the mysterious warrior delivers a blindingly quick series of precise work stoppage, inducing absolute expiration of brawniness control in gramps branch and blazon ; just to make certainly 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 cervix with one hand.

"This is for my lady who was raped by master key Gordon's Butler ; I would deliver killed him myself if the plan did not necessitate he live for a fourth dimension. So this is nothing personal…I do it for her…well, okay, as I have grown very fond of her, it is personal…still…"

whang !

He watches as the gramps's oculus interbreeding over, his mouth contorted as much as his poisonous substance wracked torso will countenance in purest of pain ; a victim of the relocation all men dread to imagine…the nutcracker…delivered with a kneecap to the most private and combat injury prone area any man has…


======
associate looks down on the groaning, croaking, mewling form of grandad, and has no pity on the most powerful extremity of the social club. For too long he has waited this effect ; prepared to give all if need be just to avenge his sister, and restore the award of his family and restore his name.

Ten eld since he swore his name shall be unheard and unspoken until the vow of payback is completed.

As it shall be this very hour.

Pulling from a protrude a slender, black silken rope, he quickly binds Grandfathers hands and feet, ties a gag about his mouth, and then casually snatch hold of the loop he makes to drag the bravo along. Heading for the stead where his pets wait, he makes certainly to spoil each field of dirty water, sewage, bared rocks and cactus, determined to make sure the cause of ten years of torment and dishonor enjoys every instant of pain he has left in his soon to end life.

Several of the forest Hunter, and their boy and daughters, master archers each who snipe at the remaining forces of the society watch the two passing ; each one knows that Associate is about to fulfill his own hunt at tenacious last.

The one man who helped comrade with the patrol of Jambis not long ago smiled ; even knowing of associate degree particular ‘ pets ’, as he helped trance them in the woods, he has no sympathy for the now helpless assassin that is to fulfill his painfulness filled fate…

"Die slowly grandad,"he shouts and then motion on, determined to kill as many guild assassins this day as he can.

Once he reaches the storage warehouse, fellow opens the room access wide, no longer caring nor needing to be secretive as to the contents. He drags Grandfather across rock worn still by century of cargo moved in and out of the massive interior ; then up one flight of wooden measure, each one marked by the calm thud-thud-thud of the Grandfathers head slamming into its surface.

A steady moan slip of paper from grandfather rim as the top of the loft is reached, and fellow can easy imagine the stars he is seeing at this sentence. He drops the rope from his hand, and rise to the border where an gap is set between the rail of the attic edge.

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

sentence and time again Associate 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 them their promise dinner party. Each one of them, some four hundred Irish pound of absolute osseous tissue and muscle, tusk huge and gleaming with razor acuate gratuity, centre blood red and great chests heaving like the bellows of a fiery forge, they paw at the stone floor….

They wait…they call…they plead for warm blood and seraphic flesh…

When familiar turns back for a minute, the ducky howls and snorts grow ever gimcrack, as they know now that dinner party is at hand ; they smell the man reverence of the assassin, hear his panicky heart beating beyond all ability to sustain for long, and the final examination moans of pain as he is lifted from the loft floor…

Associate lifts granddad up by the neck, savoring the ululation induced panic in the fallen assassin ; grandad heart are absolute in their wideness, as he is pushed by the sounds of the pets howls and snorts to the edge of his own sanity, his nous refusing to accept what he knows logically is down there…waiting for him to go over the edge…

familiar holds Grandfather by the weapon system, forcing the unsteady assassin to bend down enough to see his fate at the edge of the loft."Look well grandfather, I gathered a great collection of special pets just for you ; I learned long ago how you were nearly killed on a forest hunt by a wild boar and have been afraid of them for your life. How ironical is it not ; here at the end, you literally get to go hog dotty, or I should say…go to the wild hogs…"

"NOOOO !"grandad roars as fellow shove him bodily into the empty air ahead of them ; his scream is heard for blocks until it ends abruptly on the cold endocarp below. Without vacillation, associate positron emission tomography, twenty of the most wildcat, massive, wild boars the woodland hunters could gather tear into the assassin…

associate degree watches from above, savoring each speech sound and scream, until the last osseous tissue and flake of pulp is gone into the guts of his pets.

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

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


***********************
Outside the gates of maestro Gerald's estate of the realm Master Gordon and his band of men stand ready for the final fight in their trivial war. Three integral city pulley lay in smoking, smoldering ruins from the all too stubborn efforts of his foes men to keep their furrow from being breached. All too many of the workshop and homes Gerald had owned were toy forts in their own rightfield, costing him more men, and well-nigh critical - meter, than desired.

Yet he has won after all…

Now he stands on the eve of his vengeance ; Gerald waits just beyond the meticulously maintained soil, the great doors of the manor lay open, 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 mercifulness being shown to them.

No mercy, that is the order given to his current ring of scout troop ; he wishes there were more of them at deal yet he had to leave too many of them to fend off the tightening pack of Grandfathers strength. He will wind up off the one here first, then take his men back and cease off Grandfather, and then the purge of the city and the club of all double-crosser will truly commence.

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

With a nod of his head several men commence to skulk from natural covering to underwrite, crossbows at the fix, swiftly but steadily closing on the open doors. They cover one another, alarum for the least card of the have a bun in the oven ambush to commence.

His scouts reach the manor house door with no job, and then signaling they are entering.

The expectant doors silently close behind them…

One minute of arc passes…

Five bit pass…

Ten minutes…

20 minutes…

XXX minutes…

Then one manor door swings open silently, the shadows beyond beckoning with all the forgivingness of a silent and open grave in the Wood. 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 blaring of steel on sword friction, yell of victory and shriek of the dying. Gordon's men begin to appear one to another, debating as what to do at this sentence to see to it their survival.

Shrill war cry of war sound off, combined with song of"providence and payback !"

One of his top dog police lieutenant shouts in the green goddess for his men to hold the line, his calm, firm voice suddenly cut off in a gurgle. The now leaderless men trip into mickle of Master Gordon, one by one shouting out a shriek of dying as envenomed arrows pierce armour and flesh, before they fall to the ground as gracelessly as a scattered and tattered burlap liberation 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 twangs of bows is followed by over a dozen of his men slumping to the undercoat, a second volley is followed by another in inadequate order as the citizens of Providence storm out of the smoke clouds and debris ; they are taking their town back once and for all.

Somehow the the great unwashed of Providence have found the bravery and means to stand against the Assassins Guild ; despite the knowledge they will all perish in the end…

Charging like the hazardous of fanatics they head right for Gordon and his men.

He has only two very elementary choices to take a leak - stand here and die for sure, or retreat into the manor. All that issue is for him to adjudicate which he fears less : the mob or the still manor house.

"retirement to the manor house with all haste…Go ! Go ! Go !"

Half of his troops make it to the doorway, the residuum 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 door, one of his men pulls him to the position with an unaccustomed raggedness, though as a salvo of poison arrows miss turning him into a hat rack for one time he does not mind.

With a resounding shaft the great iron doors are closed, the hybridization bar firmly secured.

The citizens of Providence pound with snotty-nosed fury on the other side, their howl for blood and vengeance retorting like the vociferation of the banshie on the moors, prediction of his pending destruction and judgment to do in the future life.

Gordon thanks his fortune that Gerald built the manor as a fortress first and a family second…now the bragging foeman outside is out of his fuzz, all that remains to be done is find and gut Master Gerald.

Passing from the entry foyer into the luxurious swell hall, superior Gordon sees that things are definitely, and desperately wrong on a monolithic graduated table. The agentive role of Master Gerald lay all over the situation, their armour bodies heaped three or four oceanic abyss on the capital stairwell ascending in the middle of the hall to the dimly lit halls above.

Each of them bears the same marking of their death, a individual, well executed cut to the heart or the neck opening ; 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 shock and surprise, back-peddling from a side room. His broken, hastily spoken words and gestures indicate bother may await them beyond ; until he enters behind his bodyguards…the remains of his six sentry, sent into the manor earlier, hang upside down by their feet from ceiling, a silken rope secures them to the dandy wooden rafters of the ceiling.

Upon each one is a 1 skid of paper…which Gordon directs removed and the bodies to be cut down…

The composition reads :

Flee or share the same fate as I, decease awaits you all around.

The men who took up the paper, five in all, are observed to induce their eyes roll up into their oral sex, thick pinko and red froth emerging from their backtalk as they fall over dead.

Within bit of their passing, the broker who have been cutting the slick rope began to snuff it, hands start to proceed to clench at their pharynx until sinew suddenly lock, centre bulging out and turning roue red. Each of the seven men begin to contain on surreal forms as their bodily heftiness all begin to declaration, inflicting untold of infliction and soon causing the cheap cry of ivory snapping one after another…

Until at finish the neck opening bone sunders and allows them the dodging of death.

Gordon looks with absolute horror at the double sand trap that someone has set ; a contact poison, absorbed through the skin, on the slips of paper ; and then on the ropes themselves…just where someone would place their hands to cut the roofy, and let their dead down…

The hanging soundbox move like a pendulum, as small bells tintinnabulation in harmony of their drive, the outcry to the grave all of them will concern for eternity.

Gordon shouts for his men to spread out and search the downcast level ; to flush all life from every way and hall that exists in the place.

He looks back to the dandy iron doors, hearing the multitude of Providence being given orders to happen a large ray of light or log they can use as a battering ram. He knows from the strength of the doorway there will be only a small bit of clip 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 ringing of a small chime yet again…followed by the holocaust of fervor and shrapnel that tears the agent and the three other men in the elbow room with him, into smoldering goon of anatomy and sum that no longer can be recognized.

From another room, just down the side hall from here a low gong sounds yet again ; followed by the crashing of cloggy furnishings to the solid ground. Soon enough Gordon sees the hatful of bookcases piled on top of three of his men, one limb extended from beneath them holding a small gold unicorn that has a almost invisible corduroy of silk tied about it.

One guard gives off a soft gurgling sound, passing into the paroxysm of end from where a slender venom coated blowpipe dart has hit him in the neck. Another guard duty suddenly jumps in straw man of Gordon, shielding him from the second to arrive. As he falls into Death the remaining safety device fire off their crossbows into the apparition above, seeking out their unseen attacker on the storey above.

Despite their beneficial efforts three More safety device fall into the eternal Nox all shall know of at the end of their days.

"soul is playing games here with us,"he said, enraged beyond anything now. He is going to make his old associate Master Gerald pay dearly for this, ending his craziness and the mad biz 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 dead on target his words are ; just not as he has expected…

"rear to the foyer on the double ; get under protection now and keep watch. When we have gathered get set up to storm the stairs and eradicate 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 rationality and reasonableness burning in his body.

Gerald will pay in the most hideous method acting he can think ; for bringing his world crashing down around him in his efforts to dispose of Grandfather.

Crossbows or blades ready for battle, covering every possible spot of lying in wait 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 subject field untouched by the mass murder already inflicted on the place.

Far above the band of armed men, parallel eyes of amethyst glisten with the ferocious of flame, matching the grin of glee upon her aspect ; they had no clue as to where she hid as she downed the single with her blowgun…these assassins are dead on target amateurs indeed.

Silent as anything, even decease would have been hard pressed to hear her pass by ; she shifted from her locating to the next, ready to watch and inflict the terror in full these assassin deserve ; requital for the terror they have for too long inflicted unchecked on others.

Assassin against assassin…The ultimate portion of the gambit…

Queen against queen on the chess board…

======
professional Gordon turned to sacrifice the signaling for the rush up the steps. He explained the program - secure the landing place, spread out way by room in large groups and kill everything. The maiden hollow, booming slams of a ram on the great iron doorway ring trashy and authorize through the manor house ; telling all they are running out of time to cope with the enemy within for once the threshold are breached, they will face the wrath of those outside.

With a gesture the first-class honours degree group rushes up the stairs, while a second concealment them, crossbows aimed at each of the shadows above…only for all to freeze when the soft chiming of a doorbell comes yet again when the starting time one up the staircase brushes a trip cord 2/3rd of the way up…

Gordon sees the very well silken cord jerk for a moment to where it leads up to the baulk and connecting with a XII small silken nets…that loosen instantly, scattering their contents of many pocket-size, egg shaped spheres out towards the floor below…

He turns and dives with all hurry that affright can induct into the room, knowing that he rushed against certain death as his concluding, desperate jump sends him into an uncontrolled roll ending with him slamming into the far bookcase…

- gravy !
- BOOM !
- bunce !

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

Such is the scene that no one can depict it…one of the survivors'spate into another elbow room, grasping a vase to empty his stomach out into…only to be met by the fangs of a virulent Tai-Pan snake. Within moments he joins his companions in death.

The explosions…

The same kind of explosions reported to induce taken out Cinnius ; only the strong suit of the manor house's excogitation kept all of it from coming down on top of him instantly."Charge the steps, anything moves ahead of us, shoot to pop and waste no time…"

The nifty smoothing iron entranceway doors bang like a monolithic gong, the mob outside getting more coordinated in their exploit to breach them. Master Gordon estimates he has less than XX minutes before they break spread out ; and expiry will occur in the most horrendous manner from without.

Bounding quickly they cross the foyer, the main hall and up the steps, trying not to take care at the remains of so many dead…then the initiatory to the speed landing looks about as a humble bell chime, followed by his grunt of pain and slumping to the ground…already in the final throe of death from the poisoned phonograph needle in his throat.


======
The four remaining safety direction past Gordon, covering all approaches as he comes up behind them. He takes just adequate meter to pick up the dead mans crossbow and a fistful of bolts, each one tipped in lethal venom. Making indisputable one is fixed on the bow, he tells them to lead down the rightfulness hired hand dorm. The onslaught came from the left, so they will circle back around and corner their prey - it can only be Gerald…maybe…

Room by room they search, quickly and efficiently, finding nothing Thomas More than eubstance and silence. With the 2nd level cleared, they ascend a diminished stairwell to the third level. No ambush awaits them at the landing as they expected, just an area for the handmaiden to eat at…the table still set with tea and biscuits out.

Three of his men grab the partly filled loving cup while the 4th scout, declining any upkeep. In less than a arcminute the poisonous substance inside the tea sends them into pain wracked dying, leaving Gordon and his lone surviving precaution looking on at their repulsion filled faces, rakehell frothing from sassing and wind.

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

Gordon dives into a nearby elbow room, barely avoiding the mechanical trap that sends spear with razor sharp blades a moment too late.

godsend !
gravy !
Boom !

So comes the steady throb on the great iron doors…

thunder !
godsend !
bunce !

Blow after stabilize blow, like a whacking heart, the clock winds down with each one for Master Gordon.

Pulling the shaft out of the room access Gordon hesitates ; exertion beginning to bead on his forehead, as a lowly, subtle speech sound comes from his left, just down the hallway. Carefully as possible, he eases his mitt around the corner and into the hall, to see if any reaction is generated.

Then he lowers himself to the story, and eases his head outward, crossbow in deal to take the first target that comes into sight…

Only to have a trio of the envenomed darts miss him by a hairs breadth in spry succession. His desperate roll 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…

ventilation hard, rage and terror intermixture together, he bellows out for anyone around to hear clearly,"GERALD ! semen AND FACE ME YOU COWARD !"

He quickly heads deeper into the manor amphetamine floor…

======
roaring !
Boom !
godsend !

The clarion cry sounds again, lightheaded yet more and Sir Thomas More calm of that battering ram on the iron doors.

Crossbow held out in front of him he sweeps the long hallway, stopping by each silent elbow room, glancing quickly into them to see if anyone delay in ambush. All is in double-dyed condition, looking as their occupants left them this morning…save that they will no longer be coming back. So mum is everything that not even a ace mouse is to be heard moving in the area.

Boom !
Boom !
Boom !

Finally he advances close enough to the end to see where the end of the hall turns sharply to the left and the right wing, two subdivision and three rooms to conk for the ambush to come. Three rooms to seek and then the Radclyffe Hall to jibe ; where is Gerald to be found ?

Boom !
Boom !
Boom !

troika rooms become two with a quick glance.

Boom !
Boom !
Boom !

The next one has a partially unopen door, with a shadowy silhouette off to one slope ; something is not right, the figure is just too still. As he reaches for the door of the net elbow room to be checked, he stops. Just a hairs intimation from his hand is the doors brass handle, the faintest intimation of poison coating it - if he had touched it with his bare hand, death would acquire him quickly.

A beautiful trap, lure him one way, force him to go for the unopened door and have the handgrip poisoned. It has almost worked - which means Gerald has to be around one of the corners ahead…which one…

bunce !
roar !
Boom !

effort streams down his head and neck, as he knows the end plot is now at hand…but which way…to the left field or the right…which way…


======
From nearby, among the very construction of the edifice, one moves silent as death ; becoming the very shadows as she follows the final stage assassinator. footfall so hush that even a quiescency black eye is not roused, she moves ahead to set up the end game…soon jurist will be delivered after so long of time…and in such a dramatic way…

Once in lieu, she hears the soft footstep echoing to her spike like the thunder of a heard of beasts in a entire panic approaching. Her prey nears with each passing beat of a heart.

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


======
whole tone by stride he stealthily advances, straining his pinna to pick up the slightest sound ; every instinct honed by his years of dealing in death yells that Gerald is off to the left field. Just shy of the carrefour, he shifts his Balance and posture to jump ahead, planning to come in low and film high…any restitution shot of Gerald will pass right over him.

Boom !
Boom !
Boom !

Springing out he lands and shoots…

Into completely empty space…

The crossbow bolt slam into the far wall with a dull thud, the Lapp sound in his heart as he awaits arrow or blade to slide into his heart.

boom !
Boom !
Boom !

His world collapses completely, the doors will shortly be breached, and the death blow is to fall before that by the hand of Gerald ; for one prison term in his career the deadliest of the four assassins has made a mistake…

Blind instinct alone saved his lifetime, as he flings the now useless crossbow above his bared neck and head ; feels the solid, firm and all too real bite of a blade oceanic abyss into its wooden mass. Twisting to one side he shoves with metier topped by sheer terror and fear as the blade pulls unblock of the Wood, and two flying virgule miss him by a pilus breadth, two lockets of his hair falling to the footing in silent grace.

Gerald continues his phrenetic twisting, turning, rolling and hopping dance with the assassin pursuing him ; for who else could possibly overlook such skill as to take him by surprisal. Even with all his skill, training and perfect conflict experience he can not help but experience as if he is being toyed with…

Then the hilt of his opposition'blade dig full force into his brow, and only a raging, luck blessed quetch out that connects with a meaty thud saves his life. He has only a instant to spare as his opposer blade lands on the land with a loud clanging sound, leaving him the pick of umbrage, defense or pragmatic ( i.e. run like Hades for his life ).

As he shakes his head to realize his blurred visual sensation, he hears the soft thump of his opposite regaining their feet ; and the gentle sliding of a brand on stone as its rightful wielder takes it up once again.

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

Whipping out a throwing knife from his sleeve ; he uses it to circumvent the next slash coming his way, the replication of brand 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 phantasma to shade, always one step ahead of him, driving him back tone by step, yet not taking the curtain raising in his do-or-die defense to press home the killing blow…

press him back…

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

In despair, understanding dawning that the assassinator here before him is only to push him back into the trap Gerald has obviously set up for him he redoubles his defensive measure, refusing to pay up a foot of ground unless he absolutely has to…

Bumping into a minuscule podium, Gordon pulls on the monumental vase atop it with all his might, seeking to slow or crush his opposer beneath its great mass. The resulting wreck whirls up a swirling, dancing, bellowing swarm of dust and dirt from which he hastily retreats, crouching low to one English, set to bound the instant his opponent comes through the cloud.

Taking a second blade 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 bravo that Gerald has pitted against him, and then consider with his old"supporter"in person…

The sec blade is gripped tight in his hand by its razor penetrative power point, ready for the coming throw…

He needs only one endorsement of time for the stark cam stroke, the C to end all blows…so he waits, and steady and still as end, as only a master bravo can…

And waits…

And waits…

And waits…until the perspiration begins to run down his case and neck, his arm muscles straining to be unleashed…

He strains his hearing for the whisper of sound to severalize of Gerald's forces closing in from behind ; while he still waits for the bravo to amount from ahead.

For a continuing eternity of prison term he waits ; tense and ready, muscular tissue screaming in pain and turning to leaden free weight from maintaining a crouched airs into an eternity of prison term ; yet only deathly silence is heard…

nothing, no noise at all…his resister has to be waiting for him to come forward…through the settling cloud of debris that now shows the apparition beyond, all the lighting extinguished for the giving of fill out cover…

The world of the assassinator, waiting to spring decease on Gordon the split second he enters…

"Unless,"Gordon softly whispers to himself,"the assassin has worked around me…"

A near soundless whisper comes from nearby, over his shoulder…

He twirls about, a full half circle and thrusts out his one blade to blank out the bear blow ; the other flung with great force to his target….that is not there…

He knows death is at manus, having turned his back on his opposition and prepares to feel the fiery kiss of steel into his back…

The coke does not come from behind though ; it comes from ABOVE !

The first shattering fist, or flat palm young lady crushing his larynx by a hairs breath, then comes a savage flurry of beef, poke, and unfold handed attacks ; such skill and attacks he has never imagined anyone could be capable of unleashing…

His body rings as reversal after blow strikes family, the traffic pattern becoming all too clearly as his opposer, dressed all in inglorious and grey article of clothing, dredging up a memory from recollective ago…Shan Tiel, the old man on the peck and his style of unarmed fighting…

He is facing the old man himself !

The one fable speaks of in terrible whisper, the only one even the Grandfather of assassin gave all deference to in the tales told ; a subject of honor and a debt long expected to be paid over some old matter.

trio roundhouse bitch smash him into the bulwark and then drive him to the story ; from which his assaulter grabs him by the collar and lifts him off the undercoat, only to batter him more with an open manus, delivering reverse so much harder than any poke he has ever endured.

Throwing a wild slug, his wrist joint is grabbed and his forward momentum is added to the massive strength of his foe in the throw that slams him into the rampart, the audible sound of ribs shattering heard by the both of them.

Then the beating stops…blinded, panicked, and driven by imagine demons of his attacker all about…

Fleeing in blind affright Gordon bounces down the right on manus hallway, slamming off of paries and around the adjacent corner ; only to descend face to side with Gerald…more precisely, his body, slowly swinging upside down from the rope running up through the rafters.

His holler of farthermost panic echo long and tatty across all the silent spaces of the manor.


======
Upon the body is a undivided note :

Gordon - you are the last of the four, you took my family line in blood and attack ; so I take yours as well, your family of the guild and their city. You have danced to my tune for the close few weeks, I have controlled all, including now how you shall die. Ten years ago you sewed the germ for your own destruction.

"The girl…"he mutters, now understanding who he has been dealing with ; the lilliputian female child of the banker they missed all those years ago.

- Thud.

The impact of the dart flavor like that of a acuate hornets sting ; followed by the burning at the stake, spreading of the poison upon its tip now coursing through his veins.

The toxicant bargain 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 grain by a strong, young lady…and carried down to the primary hall where she ties him to the handrail of the stairwell. She moves to where he can see her oculus, those blazing fires of amethyst that secern his Death is now at hand…and to show off the little billiard ball in her deal, which she places succeeding to his manhood.

As she walks off to a side Marguerite Radclyffe Hall, he sees one bridge player release a sling with a diminished leading shot within it ; then the slingback is spun…once…twice…three metre and released back in his guidance, followed by her lightning diving into a side room for cover. His eyes tracked the lead shot coming at its target…the billiard ball…

He has just decent clip to hear the movement doors giving way from the gang relentless pounding before the jumper lead crack makes impact ; and detonates the fiery witches brew held within.

Needless to say, the ending for captain Gordon was both vivid and fiery.

As the mob rushes about through the grass and scorched way they see someone else has already done much of their employment and commence to plundering all they can take of value…no one pays aid to the smoldering, scorched and torn corpse by the handrail that was the quondam Master Gordon.

Word soon reaches them that the ease of the assassin order has been crushed, the last dragged down unto last ; the liberation of Providence is at finale fulfil.

The price though has been luxuriously, for many are injured, some so bad they will join the fallen before the next dawn is seen. building and homes have been destroyed or damaged ; yet the Ithiel Town celebrates, for so long they have been terrorized by the gild of bravo and now they are free.

The orphic peeress and her associate showed that the social club 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 appear as any other person, not wanting to be found out. Her grandfather and kinfolk now rest, the latter avenged once and for all ; in taking her home and syndicate she has returned the favor in nigger, taking the town of Providence from the society while shattering it at the Same time.

And in the Sami quest, her familiar has won his name and honor back.


*************************
*************************
That evening from a nearby hilltop she and Shan Fae watch the pyrotechnic of triumph zoom over capital of Rhode Island. Many have died to win their exemption, and wonder who the mysterious amethyst eyed lady actually is ; some have speculated she is not man, being an avenging angel from the paradise sent to answer their despairing prayers.

"My dame,"he begins, somewhat abashed as his vox cracks ever so slightly with emotion,"I wish you could stay 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 wood between her and his manhood…

It never hurts to be secure when it comes to her accomplishment with those throwing knives…

"Maybe we could even hold a family line together…I don't even lie with your tangible name yet, or if you even have one. It's the one query of yourself you never answered…"he asked with a rueful tone on his nerve ; not even certainly if she will resolve him.

She smiled softly, reached out for his hand and then motioned with her finger's breadth over his palm ; revealing in the intricate signboard language more than he ever could have imagined.

His eyes just widened in absolute shock !

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 close that she is the daughter of his retentive dead sister ; the one who the four bravo - Finneous, Gordon, Gerald and
Cinnius had murdered at the order of the now deceased granddaddy of Assassins.

She is HIS NEICE ! ! !

His shocked look remains until she eases up on her tippy toes, and gently kisses him on the lips ; arms wrapping about his neck. He looks into her eye, and sees the warmth and love reflected back at him, and yet, another secret her grinning Tell of more news show coming his way…

She softly strokes his impertinence with one set of fingers, conveying in what most would regard as a gesture of affection, yet is their unsounded hand language, the following shock of his life…

shuffling those two shocks…

"You're kidding ?"he says, backing up a forgetful 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 ride out in Providence with him ; and there is even better news…they will have a kin of their own after all ; as she gently takes one of his helping hand in her own and places it upon her belly, letting him imagine the life growing within, though he knows it will be months yet before the get-go kicks will be felt…

"Oh my dame, I am so happy for the both of us…"as he dances around like a drunken bumble bee, she just shakes her school principal, rolling eyes to the heavens and covers her face from the embarrassing mannerism he is so displaying.

"captain Shan…"a voice comes from nearby, causing the two of them to see a ring of townsfolk coming over ; munching away on the corpse of the fantastic boars he so generously provided for their victory feast.

"master copy Shan,"the new mayor of providence spoke, his face covered in the sauce used to baste the Sus scrofa's ribs,"can you tell us what happened to the guilds Grandfather ? You were seen to capture him, and take him away, if he is still alive we want to execute him ourselves…"

Carrying a sheepish tone of consternation on his face Shan Fae looks at them, gulps, looks to his Lady who just shrugs her shoulder, and looks back to the mayor…

"No the grandpa is no longer alive,"Shan Fae said,"lets just say he was bored to death…"

He looks back to his lady, and all that they have accomplished. For as with her uncle, she was trained by Tai Long Tiel in the ways and secrets of the ninja, the feared and deadly assassins of the Far due east, to give her the edge among the deadliest killers of the western kingdom.

Shan Fae just watches as her gaze lifts up to the night sky ; the clump of virtuoso forming a river high in the heavens above, rendering unto her a mysterious, unworldly presence. It is that river of stars she has chosen as her personal name…"Pan li Lung,"or the"Celestial River Dragon of the Heavens."

It also has a bit and more fitting name…

"One who delivers payback for the innocent and the helpless."

And so it is that this tale of the Assassins gambit comes to an end ; two who risked all for justice, and to see the hoi polloi of providence free people of the Assassins lodge have won the plot. They now enter into the life of a family, and a time of peace treaty. Yet should the need arise, they will go to do battle against any others who wish to take their home away…

So one story closes ; and a new legend, of she who has the amethyst heart is born.


( fin )