The Akkadian fails to strike.

The Akkadian entered Trimon's bedchamber. Inside the room was dark and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. Trimon, like many brigand leaders the assassin had encountered had decorated his chamber with the fruits of his caravan raids. Rich silks and and brocaded hangings adorned the room and finely crafted pottery and silverware were stacked upon furniture produced by the most skilled of artisans. The room was dominated by a massive canopied bed with elaborate posts holding the gossamer thin silks. The room was lit by huge candles set in finely wrought candlesticks. The Akkadian could make out the figure of a man lying on the bed, though the gauzy canopy masked the exact details.

"Ahh, Minaja." The deep bass voice welcomed from the huge bed. "Come join me. My cock yearns for the tight embrace of the silken sheath of your cunt."

The Akkadian moved slowly to the nearest of the bed's pillars, making his wide hips sway deliberately. He posed in what he hoped was a seductive manner with on hand upon the post and the other behind his back with his slim fingers curling around the hilt of the invisable dagger.

"Perhaps, if you permit it my lord, a goblet of wine?" The Akkadian asked, attempting to make his voice as sultry as the experianced whore he was impersonating. "My throat is parched and a sip of wine will relax us both."

"Ha, yes. An excellent idea sweet one." Trimon replied, "Wetting that slender throat will ease the passage of my cock."

The Akkadian shuddered at the thought of such an act. Trimon roused himself from the bed and pushed through the thin curtains. The warlord was already naked and paused for a moment to regard the altered assassin, allowing the Akkadian to stare at Trimon in his full frontal nudity. The man was a northern barbarian, tall and broad chested with shoulder length blonde hair. The Akkadian's eyes were drawn downwards to Trimon's loins, where a massive cock swung half erect already. He gasped at the sight, his throat suddenly tight and dry in reality from the fear that the huge member now held. He was frightenly aware that only a scrap of silk clothed his woman's body and it offered no protection to his unfamiliar sex.

"Haha, I see where your eyes wander little one." Trimon laughed. "Have patience, you'll taste it's potency soon enough."

The warlord turned his back and stepped to a cabinet which held goblets and a carafe of wine. The Akkadian stared at the hard muscular buttocks of the man a moment as he silently slid the slim dagger from his waistband and prepared to strike.

"Ahh, but this is fine wine." Trimon continued to say, blissfully unaware of the Akkadian making his preparations to strike behind his defenceless back. "Looted from a caravan coming south from Lustria, the home of the finest vinyards."

The Akkadian stepped carefully, crossing half the distance between the bed and the unsuspecting barbarian. The dagger he held was a small thing, but he knew he had the skill to plunge it directly through Tromon's heart and kill the man instantly. His arm swept up and he took a quick step ready to strike the man down. The tinkle of the small silver bells on his wrist and ankles and the blur of movement reflected in the polished goblet saved Trimon's life. Despite the rich trappings of his bedchamber Trimon had rose to lead his band because he was an excellent warrior and at the hint of trouble his fighting instincts took hold. As the Akkadian's hand swept down the warlord spun and caught his wrist scant inches from plunging the dagger home.

"What is this?" Trimon asked puzzled.

The warlord stared at the Akkadian as if mystified by the turn of events. The Akkadian through all his strength into his arm, attempting still to push it forward to stab the warlord's naked chest. To Trimon's eyes the Akkadian's hand was empty, merely balled into a fist clenched around the invisable weapon's hilt. The Akkadian writhed desperately, bringing his other hand into use to try to press the attack home, but Trimon was easily able to hold him fast with only one hand.

"What is this fury?" Trimon wondered aloud. "I know it has been many weeks since my cock filled you little one, but I have been away raiding. If my neglect has roused your womanly fury then I must make amends immediately."

Trimon's large muscles bulged and he threw the Akkadian backwards with ease. The assassin found himself airborne and thrown through the silk curtains to land on his back upon the massive bed. The hand grasping the magical dagger hit one of the posts during his short flight and he screamed as his fingers flexed open and the dagger was lost. Landing on the soft bedding the assassin sank into the silken sheets and struggled to regain his balance. His large breasts bounced crazily and his slim legs parted as he sought purchase to renew his attack or flee. The warlord followed quickly, looking down at the writhing female form as his large cock swelled to full hardness. The wispy silk loincloth the Akkadian wore had fallen aside and Trimon stared with lust at the dark painted cunt that revealed.