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Genre - Fantasy
Rating - PG13
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“Don’t waste your time trying to disarm me with your flattery Warlord
Lewd,” Shade growled back, “I came here to do the job and by the moons I’ll get
it done.”
Those are the last words on page 98 before turning to
page 99. Shade has been summoned by his mark, under a white flag of sorts, to
parley with his charismatic target Warlord Lewd. Waiting Game is not your
average run-of-the-mill assassination story. It breaks out in bold new
directions where two dangerous and colossal egos collide. Lewd is a powerful
warlord turned crimelord and he rules the underground Black Markets with an
iron fist.
Shade has given his mark a once in a lifetime chance to
take him head on, to have a fighting chance. Instead, of going unseen and
stealthily stalking his prey as usual, he gets bold. He walks into a bar in the
very seat of Lewd’s power and declares his intent to topple the crimelord. Lewd
has responded in kind by sending wave after wave of minions after the ballsy
assassin, who has simply waited in the bar for him, taunting Lewd for his
cowardice in not facing him.
Page 99 is the conversation between Shade and Warlord Lewd himself that in many ways brings the book to a head. Shade is a cocky and infinitely capable assassin, thirsting for a challenge. Lewd is a charismatic enigma. He has gone through great lengths to set up this meeting with Shade in this chapter, even researching Shade’s culture, in an attempt to buy him off. What follows is Shade’s steel will clashing with Lewd’s beguiling flash and flare. They meet over a bottle of wine under an oath that at this meeting neither may harm the other…
Page 99 is the conversation between Shade and Warlord Lewd himself that in many ways brings the book to a head. Shade is a cocky and infinitely capable assassin, thirsting for a challenge. Lewd is a charismatic enigma. He has gone through great lengths to set up this meeting with Shade in this chapter, even researching Shade’s culture, in an attempt to buy him off. What follows is Shade’s steel will clashing with Lewd’s beguiling flash and flare. They meet over a bottle of wine under an oath that at this meeting neither may harm the other…
So says the dialogue in the middle of page 99:
“Now let’s talk gold,” Lewd said quickly, attempting to smooth over
the awkward silence, “how many pounds are they paying you for the hit?”
“There was no specific number,” said Shade, “let’s just say you’re wearing the weight of it on your shoulders.”
Warlord Lewd laughed, “A rather gruesome touch, don’t you think?”
“There was no specific number,” said Shade, “let’s just say you’re wearing the weight of it on your shoulders.”
Warlord Lewd laughed, “A rather gruesome touch, don’t you think?”
Waiting Game is one action packed book, but I have to say
this is one of my favorite scenes. We’ll see if Shade’s boasts can really stand
up against Lewd’s power. But this time power is scared. Shade responds with a
smooth cool confidence, a cool edge frosting the tips of his lips. It leaves
the readers to wonder just how this hit will carry out. Will Shade overcome all
of Lewd’s forces foolish enough to stand in his way?
We wanted to do something different with Waiting Game. Not
just the usual cloak and dagger hit story, but pit the world’s most invincible
assassin against a cruel powerful mobster, just to see who wins. Waiting Game is
an explosive mixture of action, cool scenes and colorful characters we hope
will draw people into the Chronicles of Covent. We just hope our readers enjoy
the ride as much as we do…
PAGE 99 (for reference)
“Disarm you? Why would I seek to disarm you, my dear cutthroat?” Lewd sat back and said with a cool frost to the edge of his lips, “When I already have.” He snapped his fingers.
Shade jumped to his feet, his fingers going to the invisible shadow daggers in the straps of his armor. He glared at Kishrub and Zulbash who did not move. Neither did he pick up on any other movement in the room.
Yessheeran slinked from the shadows his scaly fingers reaching for the bottle of Dark Oliverian Wine. The Syssrah ran a cloth over the bottle and popped the cork. His scaly green lips snaked into a crooked smirk as he filled the two goblets.
Lewd’s own mouth twisted into an equally snaky grin, “Oliverian wine?”
The assassin lowered himself back into his seat. He grabbed his glass of wine and smirked coolly back. He stared the crimelord in the face. Shade brought the cup to his lips and drank slowly. The rich taste washed down his throat. He closed his eyes a moment and thought of home. He saw the glow of the moons dancing off of healthy black rustling leaves. He saw gardens of midnight flowers and the proud towers of moonstone cities shining in the night. Two tears squeezed from his tear-ducts, but he forbade them to fall. He betrayed no weakness.
Shade opened his eyes.
Lewd was staring at him as if to make certain the Dark Elf drank every last drop. He set the glass down half-finished. He smirked as Lewd shifted uncomfortably. The warlord’s eyes lingered on the half-filled goblet. Now Shade’s lips were lined with a cool edge of satisfaction. He suspected the wine had been poisoned.
“Now let’s talk gold,” Lewd said quickly, attempting to smooth over the awkward silence, “how many pounds are they paying you for the hit?”
“There was no specific number,” said Shade, “let’s just say you’re wearing the weight of it on your shoulders.”
Warlord Lewd laughed, “A rather gruesome touch, don’t you think?”
“No more than the trophies mounted above your throne, Lewd.”
“Name your price.”
“I have no price.”
“The weight of one of my bodyguards in gold.”
“And give up the thrill of the chase? You’ve got to be joking.”
“The weight of both my bodyguards in gold,” Lewd offered, “and you come work for me. You have already relieved me of my very best. I could use an assassin of your caliber to dispose of a few manmade inconveniences.”
“I will not play one of your stoolpigeons, Lewd.”
“Surely we can reach some manner of agreement,” the crimelord frowned, “otherwise we’re caught in a deadly waiting game, one in which we will both undoubtedly lose. You will waste my valuable time and resources and I will waste your invaluable talent! Let us not speak of what we cannot do. You desire to move onto the next hit and I desire to move freely among my own chambers and manage my affairs without fear of you.”
“Disarm you? Why would I seek to disarm you, my dear cutthroat?” Lewd sat back and said with a cool frost to the edge of his lips, “When I already have.” He snapped his fingers.
Shade jumped to his feet, his fingers going to the invisible shadow daggers in the straps of his armor. He glared at Kishrub and Zulbash who did not move. Neither did he pick up on any other movement in the room.
Yessheeran slinked from the shadows his scaly fingers reaching for the bottle of Dark Oliverian Wine. The Syssrah ran a cloth over the bottle and popped the cork. His scaly green lips snaked into a crooked smirk as he filled the two goblets.
Lewd’s own mouth twisted into an equally snaky grin, “Oliverian wine?”
The assassin lowered himself back into his seat. He grabbed his glass of wine and smirked coolly back. He stared the crimelord in the face. Shade brought the cup to his lips and drank slowly. The rich taste washed down his throat. He closed his eyes a moment and thought of home. He saw the glow of the moons dancing off of healthy black rustling leaves. He saw gardens of midnight flowers and the proud towers of moonstone cities shining in the night. Two tears squeezed from his tear-ducts, but he forbade them to fall. He betrayed no weakness.
Shade opened his eyes.
Lewd was staring at him as if to make certain the Dark Elf drank every last drop. He set the glass down half-finished. He smirked as Lewd shifted uncomfortably. The warlord’s eyes lingered on the half-filled goblet. Now Shade’s lips were lined with a cool edge of satisfaction. He suspected the wine had been poisoned.
“Now let’s talk gold,” Lewd said quickly, attempting to smooth over the awkward silence, “how many pounds are they paying you for the hit?”
“There was no specific number,” said Shade, “let’s just say you’re wearing the weight of it on your shoulders.”
Warlord Lewd laughed, “A rather gruesome touch, don’t you think?”
“No more than the trophies mounted above your throne, Lewd.”
“Name your price.”
“I have no price.”
“The weight of one of my bodyguards in gold.”
“And give up the thrill of the chase? You’ve got to be joking.”
“The weight of both my bodyguards in gold,” Lewd offered, “and you come work for me. You have already relieved me of my very best. I could use an assassin of your caliber to dispose of a few manmade inconveniences.”
“I will not play one of your stoolpigeons, Lewd.”
“Surely we can reach some manner of agreement,” the crimelord frowned, “otherwise we’re caught in a deadly waiting game, one in which we will both undoubtedly lose. You will waste my valuable time and resources and I will waste your invaluable talent! Let us not speak of what we cannot do. You desire to move onto the next hit and I desire to move freely among my own chambers and manage my affairs without fear of you.”
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