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"You're the male?"

At first, she thought the innkeeper had made a mistake. She had asked for a male. No other requirements. The innkeeper had been all smiles and chatter after that, promising her best male, her own son, to her. Anything for such a prestigious guest, after all.

"Yes, mistress." The boy cooed, brushing back his long hair, and licking his lips, stretching provactively over the mattress. "Do I please you."

"Well…don't get me wrong, you're very pretty," she began, choosing her words carefully. "It's just…well…your hair's really long."

He blinked, fingering the tips of his white hair in a self-conscious manner. It was acceptable for both men and women to grow their hair past their shoulders, and even to their waist in the Underdark. (Not ankles, though. That was reserved for those wretched followers of Eilistraee.)

"It's not normally an issue. It's just…well…I don't do drow guys with long hair. Honestly, you look too much like three of my sisters."

She tapped her chin in a thoughtful gesture. "Well, maybe not Sol. She's all muscular, and at least as tall as an average human male. Perpetual expression of constipation too. Of course, if I had to fight in the Blood War for nearly a century, I wouldn't be happy either."

The boy bit his lip, tremors shaking his vocals as he spoke. "Have…have I displeased you, mistress?"

"It's just Lyme. And no, you're fine. I'll be here for the rest of the night, I just won't be touching you anytime soon." The assassin chuckled, beginning to strip off bits of her armor, and giving the nearby tub of steaming, soapy water a longing smile. "It would just feel a little incestuous. Don't worry about it though. Honestly, I just want to take a bath and sleep. I'll tell your mother that you were excellent."

He blinked once more, surprised by her kindness. "Th-thank you, Mistress."

"No problem. I had trouble with my mother too. Trust me, it's much better once you're on your own." Her bracers fell to the ground, followed by her belt. She stepped out of her boots, and began loosening the ties of her breastplate.

A gasp escaped the boy as she turned to get a better grasp at the dagger strapped to her thigh, and she cocked her brows at him. "Something wrong? I haven't grown an extra head, have I?"

"No…uhm…Lyme."

"Just the two then. That's good." She chuckled at her own silly joke, before looking towards his crimson gaze, her own green eyes following it right to the tattoo on her arm.

"Don't worry about that. I only kill people I'm contracted to. Or people that threaten me. You're neither." She assured him, before giving the tattoo a wry smile. "You know, sometimes this thing is more hassle than its worth. On the one hand, all I need to do is show this at parties and everyone in the room shits themselves. On the other hand, it gets a little exhausting to have people frightened of you because you represent a cold, brutal order of assassins. Honestly, so many stereotypes and misconceptions exist about assassins. It's ridiculous."

Now naked, she abruptly spun around, his eyes falling to her small breasts as they gave a slight bounce. "Say, boy, what's your name?"

"Oh. It's--"

"Never mind. I'm just going to call you Thunder-tits. It'll be easier for me to remember." Lyme informed him glibly, sinking into the tub, and letting out a grateful groan as the hot water soothed her aching muscles. "Thunder-tits, do you ever run across rooftops?"

"I can't say I ever have."

"The trick is to always land with a roll. Otherwise, you'll fuck up your knees. You know, before I got here, this bitch was chasing after me because I assassinated her priestess—those Kiaransalee worshipers just take everything so personally—and she landed on her knees. Cracked both of them. Made it easy to fling a few darts at her. I think she's dead. I'm not sure. I didn't check."

Lyme smiled a little. She wasn't one to burst into chatter when large groups were present, but when it was just her and one or two other people, it was easy. Particularly with this male, for some reason. "You know, I really should have become a dancer. Not that being an assassin doesn't have its perks, it's just that I wouldn't have to worry too much about my life being threated if I were a ballerina. What did you want to be growing up, Thunder-tits?"

"I…I don't know."

"Never thought about it much? I understand. Mothers like ours don't encourage independence too freely." A few more quick scrubs, and she stood up, tossing her armor into the soapy mix, before slipping into a nearby bathrobe.

"Gotta get the sweat stains off somehow. I don't have time to send it out to the laundry." She informed him as she laid down on the bed. "Honestly, I didn't have much interest in sexing you up to begin with. Again, it's not that you're not pretty, I just usually go about hiring a male because I don't want my contact to bother me. She'll give me my next assignment, sure, but I'd rather wait until tomorrow. I like having a little time away from the job, you know? She won't bother her if I'm with a male. She might if I'm with a female. Might think she has the right to join in. Not that that's ever happened to me…more than twice."

Crossing her arms, she idly brushed a thumb over her tattoed bicep. "You're a good guy, Thunder-tits. Good listener."

Lyme's eyes suddenly went wide, and she grabbed the male, pulling him over the side of the bed just as the wall exploded, sending bits of rubble everywhere.

"Oops. Guess she wasn't there. Did I mention that she was a mage?"

"Oh Lolth!" The male shrieked, seeing a woman stagger through the hole in the wall, spell incantations flying from her hands. "I'm going to die! I'm going to die!"

"Calm down, I won't let anything happen to you." Lyme promised him, pulling up the mattress and shielding their bodies as bolts of magefire blasted through the room.

"Liar!" He hissed. "What do you care if I die or not?!"

"I care because if you die, I'll have to compensate your mother. And the Skulls won't reimburse me for what they consider, 'personal matters'. It's ridiculous. I'm telling you, we really need a union, because our salaries are just not--"

"Look out!"

"Oh right. Our lives are in danger." Lyme remarked, quickly sidestepping the woman's sword.

"You shall die, assassin!" The woman shrieked, swinging her sword once more, as Lyme dodged.

"Can we take this outside? Because the establishment is going to blame *me* for the damages to the room, and I'd really rather not--" The assassin dodged another blow. "Well that was rude. I'm trying to talk, here."

Flipping back towards the hole, Lyme ran out, and began hopping across the slates that made up the settlement's rooftops. Right on cue, the woman followed, bellowing out spells that left cracks in the stones, and nearly took off a few of Lyme's toes. But as expected, she still hadn't gotten the hang of the terrain, and soon fell ten feet once more, the impact shattering her already sore kneecaps, and sending her to the ground, and drawing a nasty scream from her mouth.

Lyme soon approached her, her green eyes snapping, bright, and deadly. She would murder this woman. She would make her suffer. She had chased her out of an inn and onto the rooftops in nothing but a bathrobe. She had just bathed. She hadn't even eaten anything yet. Yes, her stomach was beginning to growl, every low, rumbling noise a whisper for the woman's death. The woman would die, as soon as Lyme reached down to her waist and drew her…wait…she'd left her dagger behind.

And the woman still had her sword.

Thinking quickly, Lyme jumped, narrowly avoiding having her ankles sliced off. Being daggerless was no longer an issue, however. A long, narrow piece of stone had come loose during the fight. The assassin was quick to snatch up the rubble, and plunge it right into the woman's neck, pushing it deep enough to pierce her windpipe, until she began to choke and sputter, blood spilling from her lips.

"Don't start what you can't finish, bitch." Lyme informed her dying enemy with a satisfied smirk, which was quick to vanish, as soon as she looked up.

Five more women, all wielding swords. All holding fistfuls of mage fire. All carrying the seal of Kiaransalee. All furious.

"Shit."

But someone leapt in front of her just as the first blast of magic was fired, shielding her from the blow.

"I can't leave you alone for a single moment, Lymeeari. Trouble always follows." Ivy informed her student, rolling her eyes as she plunged her dagger into the nearest priestess.

"It wasn't my fault." Lyme whined, picking up the nearest sword, intent on joining her teacher. "She attacked *me*!"

"And did you check to make sure that she was dead the first time?"

"Well…no…"

"Then you brought this upon yourself." Ivy informed her, swinging around, and planting another blade in another woman's sternum.

The battle continued on, punctuated by the sounds of cool steel slicing through warm flesh, and Lyme's cries of, "Kick her in the balls, Ivy!" as well as, "Cut through her implants! They're her weakspot!"

The elder assassin couldn't help another roll of her eyes as she watched Lyme clean off a cut on the fabric of her bathrobe. "And where is your armor?"

"I left it with Thunder-tits. I'll be right back."

A few quick steps, and she was back at the inn, snatching her armor out of the tub, and buckling it to her body, despite its soapy, wet condition. A quick snap of her fingers, and the tie that had held back her hair after her bath fell to the floor, her hands trailing through the wet, messy locks.

Catching sight of her male, Lyme grinned. "Thanks for the great evening, Thunder-tits."

She sent him a wink, and blew him a quick kiss, before leaping out of the mage-made hole.

Description
"You're the male?"

At first, she thought the innkeeper had made a mistake. She had asked for a male. No other requirements. The innkeeper had been all smiles and chatter after that, promising her best male, her own son, to her. Anything for such a prestigious guest, after all.

"Yes, mistress." The boy cooed, brushing back his long hair, and licking his lips, stretching provactively over the mattress. "Do I please you."

"Well…don't get me wrong, you're very pretty," she began, choosing her words carefully. "It's just…well…your hair's really long."

He blinked, fingering the tips of his white hair in a self-conscious manner. It was acceptable for both men and women to grow their hair past their shoulders, and even to their waist in the Underdark. (Not ankles, though. That was reserved for those wretched followers of Eilistraee.)

"It's not normally an issue. It's just…well…I don't do drow guys with long hair. Honestly, you look too much like three of my sisters."

She tapped her chin in a thoughtful gesture. "Well, maybe not Sol. She's all muscular, and at least as tall as an average human male. Perpetual expression of constipation too. Of course, if I had to fight in the Blood War for nearly a century, I wouldn't be happy either."

The boy bit his lip, tremors shaking his vocals as he spoke. "Have…have I displeased you, mistress?"

"It's just Lyme. And no, you're fine. I'll be here for the rest of the night, I just won't be touching you anytime soon." The assassin chuckled, beginning to strip off bits of her armor, and giving the nearby tub of steaming, soapy water a longing smile. "It would just feel a little incestuous. Don't worry about it though. Honestly, I just want to take a bath and sleep. I'll tell your mother that you were excellent."

He blinked once more, surprised by her kindness. "Th-thank you, Mistress."

"No problem. I had trouble with my mother too. Trust me, it's much better once you're on your own." Her bracers fell to the ground, followed by her belt. She stepped out of her boots, and began loosening the ties of her breastplate.

A gasp escaped the boy as she turned to get a better grasp at the dagger strapped to her thigh, and she cocked her brows at him. "Something wrong? I haven't grown an extra head, have I?"

"No…uhm…Lyme."

"Just the two then. That's good." She chuckled at her own silly joke, before looking towards his crimson gaze, her own green eyes following it right to the tattoo on her arm.

"Don't worry about that. I only kill people I'm contracted to. Or people that threaten me. You're neither." She assured him, before giving the tattoo a wry smile. "You know, sometimes this thing is more hassle than its worth. On the one hand, all I need to do is show this at parties and everyone in the room shits themselves. On the other hand, it gets a little exhausting to have people frightened of you because you represent a cold, brutal order of assassins. Honestly, so many stereotypes and misconceptions exist about assassins. It's ridiculous."

Now naked, she abruptly spun around, his eyes falling to her small breasts as they gave a slight bounce. "Say, boy, what's your name?"

"Oh. It's--"

"Never mind. I'm just going to call you Thunder-tits. It'll be easier for me to remember." Lyme informed him glibly, sinking into the tub, and letting out a grateful groan as the hot water soothed her aching muscles. "Thunder-tits, do you ever run across rooftops?"

"I can't say I ever have."

"The trick is to always land with a roll. Otherwise, you'll fuck up your knees. You know, before I got here, this bitch was chasing after me because I assassinated her priestess—those Kiaransalee worshipers just take everything so personally—and she landed on her knees. Cracked both of them. Made it easy to fling a few darts at her. I think she's dead. I'm not sure. I didn't check."

Lyme smiled a little. She wasn't one to burst into chatter when large groups were present, but when it was just her and one or two other people, it was easy. Particularly with this male, for some reason. "You know, I really should have become a dancer. Not that being an assassin doesn't have its perks, it's just that I wouldn't have to worry too much about my life being threated if I were a ballerina. What did you want to be growing up, Thunder-tits?"

"I…I don't know."

"Never thought about it much? I understand. Mothers like ours don't encourage independence too freely." A few more quick scrubs, and she stood up, tossing her armor into the soapy mix, before slipping into a nearby bathrobe.

"Gotta get the sweat stains off somehow. I don't have time to send it out to the laundry." She informed him as she laid down on the bed. "Honestly, I didn't have much interest in sexing you up to begin with. Again, it's not that you're not pretty, I just usually go about hiring a male because I don't want my contact to bother me. She'll give me my next assignment, sure, but I'd rather wait until tomorrow. I like having a little time away from the job, you know? She won't bother her if I'm with a male. She might if I'm with a female. Might think she has the right to join in. Not that that's ever happened to me…more than twice."

Crossing her arms, she idly brushed a thumb over her tattoed bicep. "You're a good guy, Thunder-tits. Good listener."

Lyme's eyes suddenly went wide, and she grabbed the male, pulling him over the side of the bed just as the wall exploded, sending bits of rubble everywhere.

"Oops. Guess she wasn't there. Did I mention that she was a mage?"

"Oh Lolth!" The male shrieked, seeing a woman stagger through the hole in the wall, spell incantations flying from her hands. "I'm going to die! I'm going to die!"

"Calm down, I won't let anything happen to you." Lyme promised him, pulling up the mattress and shielding their bodies as bolts of magefire blasted through the room.

"Liar!" He hissed. "What do you care if I die or not?!"

"I care because if you die, I'll have to compensate your mother. And the Skulls won't reimburse me for what they consider, 'personal matters'. It's ridiculous. I'm telling you, we really need a union, because our salaries are just not--"

"Look out!"

"Oh right. Our lives are in danger." Lyme remarked, quickly sidestepping the woman's sword.

"You shall die, assassin!" The woman shrieked, swinging her sword once more, as Lyme dodged.

"Can we take this outside? Because the establishment is going to blame *me* for the damages to the room, and I'd really rather not--" The assassin dodged another blow. "Well that was rude. I'm trying to talk, here."

Flipping back towards the hole, Lyme ran out, and began hopping across the slates that made up the settlement's rooftops. Right on cue, the woman followed, bellowing out spells that left cracks in the stones, and nearly took off a few of Lyme's toes. But as expected, she still hadn't gotten the hang of the terrain, and soon fell ten feet once more, the impact shattering her already sore kneecaps, and sending her to the ground, and drawing a nasty scream from her mouth.

Lyme soon approached her, her green eyes snapping, bright, and deadly. She would murder this woman. She would make her suffer. She had chased her out of an inn and onto the rooftops in nothing but a bathrobe. She had just bathed. She hadn't even eaten anything yet. Yes, her stomach was beginning to growl, every low, rumbling noise a whisper for the woman's death. The woman would die, as soon as Lyme reached down to her waist and drew her…wait…she'd left her dagger behind.

And the woman still had her sword.

Thinking quickly, Lyme jumped, narrowly avoiding having her ankles sliced off. Being daggerless was no longer an issue, however. A long, narrow piece of stone had come loose during the fight. The assassin was quick to snatch up the rubble, and plunge it right into the woman's neck, pushing it deep enough to pierce her windpipe, until she began to choke and sputter, blood spilling from her lips.

"Don't start what you can't finish, bitch." Lyme informed her dying enemy with a satisfied smirk, which was quick to vanish, as soon as she looked up.

Five more women, all wielding swords. All holding fistfuls of mage fire. All carrying the seal of Kiaransalee. All furious.

"Shit."

But someone leapt in front of her just as the first blast of magic was fired, shielding her from the blow.

"I can't leave you alone for a single moment, Lymeeari. Trouble always follows." Ivy informed her student, rolling her eyes as she plunged her dagger into the nearest priestess.

"It wasn't my fault." Lyme whined, picking up the nearest sword, intent on joining her teacher. "She attacked *me*!"

"And did you check to make sure that she was dead the first time?"

"Well…no…"

"Then you brought this upon yourself." Ivy informed her, swinging around, and planting another blade in another woman's sternum.

The battle continued on, punctuated by the sounds of cool steel slicing through warm flesh, and Lyme's cries of, "Kick her in the balls, Ivy!" as well as, "Cut through her implants! They're her weakspot!"

The elder assassin couldn't help another roll of her eyes as she watched Lyme clean off a cut on the fabric of her bathrobe. "And where is your armor?"

"I left it with Thunder-tits. I'll be right back."

A few quick steps, and she was back at the inn, snatching her armor out of the tub, and buckling it to her body, despite its soapy, wet condition. A quick snap of her fingers, and the tie that had held back her hair after her bath fell to the floor, her hands trailing through the wet, messy locks.

Catching sight of her male, Lyme grinned. "Thanks for the great evening, Thunder-tits."

She sent him a wink, and blew him a quick kiss, before leaping out of the mage-made hole.