�Ya ain�t gunna get �way wi� this, ya bastard. I swear I�ll-�

Anlat�s abrupt chuckle cut Raphael off mid-sentence, causing the ex-assassin to glare a cold hatred into his captor�s eyes. Slowly and deliberately, Anlat pulled down the dark hood that shadowed his emotionless face, blackened eyes staring forward.

�You are in no position to be swearing anything, Raphael. As you hang there tossing about threats, your little sweetheart is dying of a nasty dosage of Waterdeep�s finest poisons��

Raphael let his eyes follow Anlat�s outstretched hand, the single bony finger pointing directly at the limp elven form of Calia hung from the wall directly opposite him. The slender form was bare of clothes, her skin as pale as bone and her usual blonde hair now a mysterious shade of dark black, a black that was so much like his former love, Keilia�s, that it made Raphael�s heart flutter even despite his current situation. He could feel though the anger bubbling inside of him at the mere sight of his true love hung in such a helpless position, the life passing from her with every second. He kicked out at Anlat, his free legs flailing out as the shackles kept him pinned to the wall, but the brooding assassin had kept his distance, suspecting such a pointless outburst before it even happened. Laughing coldly, Anlat turned his back on his captives, walking briskly out of the room, his lack of words as taunting to Raphael as any amount of jeering could have been. With a sigh of resignation, Raphael relaxed reluctantly against the wall, his dark eyes fixed on the sight of Calia hung across the room from him.

If he could just get to her, he could neutralize the poison before it was too late� but if he hung here, just as Anlat planned he would be forced to watch her life vanish before him, her skin going from white to green, the skin itself drying and cracking from her slender bones. The shackles rattled against their bolts on the walls as Raphael tried desperately to pull himself free, but it was no use, the shackles were firm, held together by thick pins going through the center. Closing hazel eyes behind heavy eyelids, the ex-assassin began the trickiest operation he had ever attempted, his knees bending as far as they would, his feet shaking themselves free of his boots and his hips lifting them, bent at both knees and ankles, to the shackles, the cold steel burning his skin; but he had no time for feelings.

-

The assassins were less than pleased to have been selected to do guard duty during that night, but not one of them would ever so much as consider crossing Anlat, for each and every one knew the consequences of such an action. Stood at the door with their rapiers drawn, the assassins paced the hallway now, the darkness pouring in around them as natural to their eyes as light to any others�. They knew what lay behind the thick wooden door by which they held their guard; the captives, the sole purpose Anlat had brought them this far from their retreat.

�I�ll patrol the room, check on �em a moment.�

The other guard nodded to his friend, a small man when compared to most but one of the fastest swordsmen on the team. The man pulled open the door, pulling his mask up over his stubble-covered face and entering the room. He made sure to close the door behind them before walking along the wall, his rapier out in front of him. The captive room was also dark, the window having been boarded off to keep out the light and, more importantly, unwanted intruders from the outside. He heard the rattle of shackles before him, and peering into the shadows he saw the male captive, Raphael, hung from the wall as he was supposed to be. The assassin chuckled, silently mocking that no amount of struggling would be able to free him of those shackles. Coming face to face with Raphael, the guard stared cold into his eyes through the eyeholes in his mask, taunting the dark depths of semi-consciousness he saw glaring back at him. The anger in the eyes of the captive was unmistakable.

Turning on his heels, the guard then moved across the room towards the second captive, his boots causing the floorboards to creak with every slow and deliberate step. He reached the second one, a beautiful elven female, her lithe body bare before him, hung up to the wall by shackles on each wrist, her hands pulled up above her head, and her feet pinned to the wall spread slightly to each side. She was unconscious, no signs of life in her slowly dying form, the poison�s effects draining the life from her with every passing second. Despite her ever-paling skin, her appearance was breath taking, even in the darkness that made her every curve shadowed. The guard gave a chuckle, bringing his hand to her cheek and cupping it in his palm, turning her lolling head from side to side. He could almost feel Raphael�s eyes burning into the back of his head, watching his every move with a furious helplessness.

The assassin lowered his rapier, placing it gently on the floorboards, trailing his hand down the elven woman�s form as he did, his fingertips caressing the side of her neck and then curbing under one of her naked breasts, his thumb teasing the nipple. The guard was surprised at Raphael�s silence, having expected at least of growl of his obvious inner torment. Raphael watched from his position against the wall, both arms hung above him, his fists clenching tight and his teeth grit at the sight of the guard enjoying the cold touch of Calia�s perfect elven body. He watched still as the guard�s eyes fell hungrily to Calia�s thighs and the irresistible center between her legs, and he began to fumble with his belt, giving a pleasured chuckle as he unbuckled the clasp and tugged the front of his pants open.

�Heads up, bastard!�

The guard turned around suddenly, shocked by the sudden shout, twisting around just in time to see the set of shackles strike him square between the eyes, instantly wiping all traces of life from him, and dropping him to the floorboards like a sack of bricks, his fingers twitching on his open pants in a state of rigor mortis.

From outside the door, the second guard heard the shout and the sound of metal striking skull, and hurriedly he burst into the room. The first sight to meet his keen, trained eyes was the limp form of his dead shift-mate spread out at the feet of the naked elven captive. A hurried scan of the dark room told the living assassin that the second captive, the human male Raphael, was no longer in his position, the shackles apparently unpinned from their bolts on the walls. The guard held out his rapier, but the defensive stance failed to block the man that fell on him from the doorframe above, crashing down on top of him and piercing the back of his skull with his fallen comrade�s own blade, before he could even manage to cry out.

Raphael took a deep breath, wiping his long, dark hair from his forehead as he pushed himself up off the second guard, and his second kill in the last thirty seconds. Absently scrubbing at the blood on his torn clothes with a knuckle, Raphael hastily kicked the wooden door closed and hurried to Calia, reminding himself silently that he had no time to lose. A quick test of her pulse told the ex-assassin that she was still alive, but barely, her heartbeat much slower than he was comfortable with. Finding his way blindly in the dark to the table halfway across the room and against the neighboring wall, Raphael quickly found what he sought. He did not even bother to strap his belt back to his waist, instead choosing to carry it back to Calia�s limp form. A moment�s search found the pouch he was looking for, and from it Raphael took a small vial of a clear liquid and with it a clean, white cloth.

Expertly dousing the cloth in the liquid, Raphael hurriedly brought it to her pale lips and nose, covering both so that she had no choice but to breath the fumes of the liquid. He held it a moment, his heart pounding despite the training he had endured for so many years, and in that moment Raphael Keriss realized at last why it was an assassin code to never love. He brought the cloth from her lips when he heard her start to cough, knowing that the anti-poison had had its effect and was already into her lungs and bloodstream, doing its work. Allowing just a second to admire her beautiful face, elven in shape, and then the unusual dark hair that fell down her shoulders and reminded him so strongly of Keilia, Raph proceeded to release her from the shackles that had suspended her there for so long and had rubbed her bare wrists and ankles almost raw to the bone. She fell onto him, more than likely completely unaware of his presence, but he held her, not allowing her to fall to the floor.

Embracing her again at last made it all worth it, and Raph completely forgot the ache in his limbs, the pounding in his head, and the stinging from countless rapier slashes. He�d got her now, Calia or Keilia he wasn�t sure and nor did he care. What mattered was that he would never let her go again, they would be together now� just as soon as he got them both free of Anlat and this building, prowling still with his numberless assassins�.