The Jade Dragon

1617, Spanish controlled Peurto Rico...

Cassandra entered a smoke filled tavern, hidden away in the deep shadows of the dockside. An instant flash of light greeted her, momentarily blinding her as her eyes adjusted to the torchlight. The din of the crowd - and, loudest of all, the cry of a newborn babe - reached Cassandra as she took her first steps into the tavern. Not a soul turned to look, and her presence was barely acknowledged by the common folk of this port city. Why should they have noticed her? She was just another woman draped in a cloak, easy to miss and difficult to recall.

She sauntered up to the bar, and called out for a cup of rum. The barkeep glanced at her poor attire, scum-covered boots and dusty old cloak, sneering at her as he said, "Sorry, but in this tavern you have to pay for your drinks". His sneer was rapidly replaced by a gleam of greed in his eye, as a silver coin rolled across the counter towards him.

"Is this more to your liking?" Cassandra said with a devilish grin. The coin was swiped off the table before more prying patrons could take notice, and the man bit it just to be sure. He grabbed a bottle from a shelf behind him, and slammed a tall cup of rum down in the silver's place.

"Enjoy the drink, ma'am", the barkeep muttered back. Cassandra passed the drink from her left hand into her right, and glided across the room onto a stool, seated by a small table in the darkest corner of the tavern. She slid her eyes across the room, giving a short, cursory glance of the other patrons. They were your usual crowd, the small town yokels that stopped in for a drink, settlers from the east who looked to gain their riches in the New World, even some shady businessmen, looking to ply their trade. Her gaze settled on a small family sitting close to the door, a Native American woman with her European husband, and a wailing babe that sat in her lap.

A poor match for the European, Cassandra thought to herself. While most Europeans had grown accustomed to the ways of the native Caribs of this island, she saw them as leeches, parasitic in nature, and that they existed only to steal the technology and wealth of the great Spanish Empire. For more then a century the Natives had been oppressed and integrated into modern society, and many had still not learned how to cope.

The European walked forwards towards the bar, just as Cassandra rose from her seat. She swiftly dashed behind him, and with a roll of her wrist and a slash of her knife, the European's coin purse fell into Cassandra's deft hands. She abruptly turned to her left, slipping out the door of the tavern, and left the din of the other patrons behind her. However, she was not the only pickpocket in the night, and her movements did not go completely unseen. A tall man with a scraggy beard, who had sat in the opposite corner of the tavern, watched as she made good her escape. Unnoticed by Cassandra , he followed her into the night, shadowing her every move through the dark alleyways and empty city streets.

Cassandra came upon a crossroads, with two alleyways spanning before her. If she moved to her right, she could continue her journey to the Thieves Guild, where its master awaited the arrival of her loot eagerly. All the loot and spoils of the night would be counted and divided amongst its members - albeit not equally. But to the left, all the riches jangling in her coin purse would be her own, and she could be a wealthy woman, for a time. After all, they would not grow to call her the Jade Dragon for nothing. Why should she share her loot? She would become the greatest thief Puerto Rico would ever know, and already many a man missed his coins while she stalked the night. Alas, she turned to the right, with a clear purpose in her mind. Tonight, she would steal from many a drunkard, and even the wealthiest merchants would not be safe from her thievery. These riches would need to be counted in the Guild Hall, a donation to the Master for his blessing and protection. But she would not be joined only by shadows.

The twists and turns of the dockyard alleyways were hard for her to follow at times, as she disrupted the stillness of the night. Her cloak acted a dual purpose, as it shielded her body from the cold, and camouflaged her deeds from prying eyes. She worked swiftly, breaking into the most likely houses, two, sometimes three stories high, and would grab everything of value - well, the small things at least. Gold necklaces, jeweled bracelets, silver baubles all flew into Cassandra's pack. And one shadowy stranger waited through every heist, silently, patiently biding his time to strike.

Cassandra vaulted over the windowsill of the last building she would steal from tonight, landing easily onto the street below. A cloaked stranger darted from the shadows, a knife blade in his hand. Cassandra dodged sideways, narrowly missing the fatal downward strike, and lashed out with her fists, pummeling her assailant - however slight these blows may have been. Her assailant jabbed her in the nose, causing her eyes to water and rivulets of blood to trail their way from her nostrils and into the corners of her mouth. She staggered backward, reeling from the blow, and her opponent wasted no time in his follow-up. He slashed out with his knife, cutting narrow, jagged cuts into her stomach, and it took all of Cassandras skill to step back from these strikes. The man ended his flurry with an upward jab of his blade, burying it into her left bicep - her good arm.

"Santiago sends you his regards," The wiry man whispered, taking a step towards her.

Before Cassandra could recover, he kicked out her legs, sending her crashing onto the cobblestones below. The murderer bent down, drawing one deep, ragged breath, as he lowered his knife point to his victims throat. But he hesitated too long. Suddenly, Cassandra came alive once more, unsheathing her boot-knife rapidly with her right hand, and sliced forward with adrenaline-fueled speed. She hit a superficial cut on his left cheek, and he gave a start. Though he tried to jab down quickly with his blade to end her life, Cassandra was the swifter of the pair. She stabbed upward with her blade, this time burying the knife deep into his throat. Her would-be assassin sputtered, spraying blood onto her face, and then his lifeless corpse collapsed on top of her, trapping her.

Cassandra took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves before she attempted to roll his body over, but she could feel her strength ebbing away already. Her left arm throbbed in pain, and she could do nothing but lie and wait until daybreak. Slowly, her eyes slipped closed, as she drifted into unconsciousness.

I feel like there's far too many comma's. For example:

"She sauntered up to the bar, and called out for a cup of rum." The comma does nothing but interrupt me and the sentence reads better without it.

"Cassandra passed the drink from her left hand into her right, and glided across the room onto a stool, seated by a small table in the darkest corner of the tavern." The word 'and' is already connecting the first statement to the second. Moreover, I think 'Seated by a small table in the darkest corner of the tavern' is a fantastic statement to start a sentence and works especially well when you connect it to the sentence that follows.

I could go on but I digress. You have a stunningly wide vocabulary and a vivid imagination as well as an eye for minute detail that most would deem unimportant. Take it with a pinch of salt but I think your structuring needs work.

Thanks for that, I was actually wondering about all the comma's I'd put in myself. I have two extra chapters of this I could post if you'd like to read them. Thanks for your feedback, and thank you for your compliments! :)

Absolutely, go ahead!

Cassandra's consciousness faded back, though a hazy mist still blocked her thoughts. A heavy weight crushed her ribs, sending tendrils of pain shooting throughout her body. Memories of the night before slowly entered into her mind, of a blade in the shadows, an unknown assailant. Her blood had spilled over the cobblestones washing them a deep scarlet.

She remembered.

The crow of the neighbourhood rooster greeted the humid, Caribbean dawn, and Cassandra groaned. She was late - by about two hours - to her meeting with the leader of the first and only Thieves Guild to call San Juan its home. Considering the hurricane two years previous, she was surprised that anyone would setup shop in this city. But this meeting was more a formality then anything really, seeing as how she had been cutting purses since the age of 6, but the Guild Master had banned any and all fences within San Juan who did not answer to the Guild. And no one traded stolen goods to the Guild fences within city limits without the Master's express permission.

After the first body turned up in the bay, fences lined up outside the door to pledge their allegiance to the Thieves Guild.

Cassandra opened her eyes, and was momentarily blinded by the first light of dawn. She was unconscious only a few hours, though her mind was well rested. Her body, however, was another tale. The shopkeepers in the alleyway hadn't even opened for business yet, which was beneficial for her, all things considered. The body of her would-be murderer was still collapsed on top of her chest, and it hurt for her to breathe. A broken rib or two, then, at the very least.

Alright, I can do this. Cassandra steeled herself, pushing upwards against the body. He had to weigh at least 12 stone, and beads of sweat dripped from her brow with the strain. She heard the sounds of footsteps through the open balcony above her - the merchants house that she had robbed before her unfortunate encounter. She needed to act quickly now. Heaving once more with all of her might, she finally managed to roll the dead body off of her and to her left. This brings new meaning to the phrase 'weight lifted off your shoulders'.

After a momentary struggle - one coupled with the excruciating pain of a surely broken rib - Cassandra lifted herself to her feet, surveying the alleyway before her. Little had changed since she had passed out, besides the large pool of blood that surrounded the body on the stones below. It was not the first time that she had killed somebody, but it never got any easier. Skillful assassin, what a waste... He did have it coming, though, the absent thought flowed into her mind. She took one last look at his corpse, sighed, and began the slow walk to the Thieves Guild of San Juan.

What an exciting morning. The walk was uneventful, and sticking to the shadows and alleyways ensured that the only passersby who greeted her presence were either gutter trash or destitute beggars - as if one could tell the difference anymore. Everywhere she looked, they averted their questioning gazes, their wandering eyes, unwilling to help this unknown woman, or just too downtrodden to even care. Cassandra quickened her pace, eager to finish this meeting with the Guild Master before she had even seen his face, and less eager to wait for the blade in the night if she did not receive the Guild's blessing to thieve.

She came upon two large, red doors, common enough except for the clear quality of the workmanship that went into both the wood of the door, and the paint used to dye it. This was her destination. Cassandra raised her hand to knock, but the doors swung wide open before her knuckles could make contact. A large, towering giant greeted her, standing easily a head taller than the frame of the entryway. Next to this man, she felt like a child again, barely past the hip, but Cassandra stiffened her spine and took her first steps into the Thieves Guild of San Juan.

"Do ye have business here?" the man asked her gruffly. His voice was deep, with a hardy seafarer's accent - and language. It was clear from the rasp in his throat that he was a regular user of tobacco.

"Well, I had one, though I might be a few hours late for it," Cassandra pasted a mocking smile on her lips. She attempted to push past the door guard, but she found herself crashing into his steel frame. Her smile wavered as she looked up into his face, with a silent plea to make her way past.

"It's your first door on the left, end of the hallway. He's good with a blade, and likes his formalities." The man gestured to the corridor behind him. His face was a blank canvas, without even the attempt to convey his emotions. "Oh, and before I forget, welcome to El Sombreado Mano".

"T-thanks," Cassandra said to him quickly, squeezing past his bear-like frame, and limped her way down the hallway. Now that she was on the inside, she could really appreciate the Guild Hall. There wasn't a single speck of dust anywhere, no cobwebs lining the corners of the ceiling, and every portrait frame was perfectly placed upon the walls. Who are all of these people? Cassandra wondered to herself. They were dressed as diplomats, soldiers, decorated officers. One was even wearing a crown on his head. Now where could these have come from?

As she reached the Guild Masters door, a wave of uneasiness washed over her. Was she ready to cripple her independence, to sign away her profits to the Guild? Cassandra had always valued her solitary nature above all else, and it made her sick to think that after today, she would have to bow and scrape, calling somebody else - someone who could only be beneath her - Master.

Cassandra gritted her teeth, This is what I must do, so her mind, and her resolve hardened into steel. She rapped sharply upon the door with her knuckles, and received a soft grumble in reply. She pushed the door open lightly, entering a small, modest office with an oak desk centered under a tapestry. It was a grand portrait, covering the wall behind the Guild Master, depicting the man who sat in the desk before her with an ornate dagger grasped in his hand. It was marvelously well sewn, and must have cost this man a fortune.

At a loss for words, Cassandra took a few more tentative steps, continuing to take in the scene around her. A chest sat against the wall to her left, ordinary, with a single lock holding it shut. To her right, a large armoire stood tall, with 8 drawers to hold all manner of items, and a bright maple finish. It seemed a bit lavish for the room of a male thief, and if not for its small size it is one that even Cassandra could imagine herself residing in. It should be me behind that desk.

"Apologies for my tardiness, good jefe, but I had more pressing matters to attending to", Cassandra said, placing great exaggeration upon the word "master". She gestured to the blood covering her tunic and tight fitted riding pants, a sardonic smile displayed upon her lips. Raising her eyes, she gazed at the man who had summoned her here today, taking in every feature about him.

Plain by no means, he was a young, attractive man with a shaven face - a rare thing to see in this part of the world. His clothing, a rich silk shirt covered with ornate - and what must have been expensive - embroidery, underneath a rich, black, unbuttoned wool doublet. He's still a bastard for this, but would he always dress to impress? Cassandra thought to herself, refusing to acknowledge the flush that had crept into her cheeks.

The Guild Master set his quill down, glancing up from his paperwork at Cassandra briefly before he rose from his chair. He cleared his throat, "So, clearly you've forgotten me then, have you, Cassandra? No matter, I'm sure I'll be able to jog your memory..." He stepped out from behind his desk, crossed the floor of the office and closed the distance between himself and Cassandra. She was taken aback by his forward manner, but the distinctly English accent that the man spoke with seemed remarkably familiar...

There's the second chapter! Tell me what you think :) I have a few others after this story if you're still interested, thanks for your feedback.

I've come to realise that the enthusiastic use of comma's is just your writing style - which is perfectly fine! I know people that speak that way and I always encourage writing as you speak.

Love the closing paragraph. You put that hook out there and pull me in for the next chapter which I am eagerly awaiting. :)

I think you'll be quite surprised with this next chapter. Thank you for your compliments, I'm really glad you like my stories :D This is the last chapter I have written for Jade Dragon so far, if you'd like to read more I have 3 or 4 more stories I could also post for you to read :)

Hickory. The smell that was emanating from his mouth was overpowering. The Guild Master stopped, inches away from Cassandra's face, and he took a deep breath. She knew this man, she was sure of it.

"Spent half my life searching for you, and now the cat's taken your tongue, hm?" He joked lightheartedly, though his eyes narrowed like a serpent waiting to strike. Cassandra took one more look at the Guild Master, and memories began flashing through her mind like wind whipping into a sail.

The fires that had burned throughout the Rat Narrows, flames climbing high into the night sky. The black smoke that had choked her lungs as she crawled desperately for freedom. The tiny sewer grate that she had squeezed herself through to escape an untimely demise. And her family, crying for help, for somebody to save them from the inferno that had engulfed her childhood home.

Tears rolled down Cassandra's cheeks as she struggled to contain her mix of emotions. She blinked the salty liquid out of her eyes, taking a step back from the man who she remembered as a boy.

"Y-y-you followed me here, Roger?" She squeaked out, her throat closing with anxiety. She had thought that she had finally escaped these memories, that she would never again have to think of that dark day.

This was the monster who had condemned her family to death, and here he was with a sickening smile plastered on his lips.

"You've certainly looked better, Cass. Though the last I remember of you was fire-singed hair and black soot smeared over your face. Just a young girl back then, but I don't suppose one easily forgets the smell of burning flesh, no?" Roger grinned wickedly at her, his yellow teeth flashing briefly at the thought of his own twisted humour.

Cassandra took another step back, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she remembered everything that happened that night. It was too much for her, he was too much for her. You just couldn't leave well enough alone, could you? Roger opened his mouth to speak again, but the words fell on deaf ears.

Looking at the face of the man who had left her life covered in ashes, Cassandra squinted, having difficulty focusing on the Guild Master. A searing pain roared from the back of her mind, and then everything went dark.

1605

Warwick, England

Cassandra woke to the sounds of a woman shrieking from the street below. It was cold, and she drew the blankets closer to shake the chill off. Despite the scream that tore her from her sleep, Cassandra noted that it was remarkably silent for a night in the Rat Narrows.

She rolled over, searching for the partner she had hoped to find sleeping soundly beside her. She found it empty, with little more then a cold crease to signify he had ever climbed into bed with her. Cassandra sat up in the bed, looking to the door across the room, but there was no light seeping in from under the door, and his clothing was no where to be seen.

I had hope Roger would choose to spend more then one night beside me... Cassandra thought to herself, a little annoyed that Roger had chosen to leave her side again. She'd get him back for it later, she knew.

"Fire! Somebody, quick, fire! In the South Croft!" A woman cried, the sound a shrill shriek drifting in through Cassandra's window. South Croft? She stood from her bed. Cassandra could see the bodies of her family clearly, peacefully burning to ash.

Looking out into the distance, Cassandra was able to see smoke billowing high into the sky, a mere few blocks away. The night was illuminated by the fire that was quickly spreading across the district. She hurried to the small wardrobe in the corner of the room, and she grabbed a much-too-large tunic to wear over her riding breeches. After sliding into her knee-high leather boots, Cassandra ran back to the window to assess the situation once more. The flames had spread to a large warehouse building that she knew sat in the center square of South Croft. My house is in that square.

She climbed out of the window, knowing that she had no time to waste. Hooking her hands into a loose stone, she shimmied a familiar path to reach the cobblestones below. Brick by brick, it felt like a century before her feet touched solid ground, but no sooner were her boots planted firmly on the ground that she broke into a sprint, south towards her family.

A sharp left, taking a shortcut through Miller's Alleyway, hopping over sacks of grain and already milled flour as she tried desperately to shave a few minutes off of her run. Another left, then a right, and another left, she could hear the screams mingled with the light crackling of the blaze she knew that she was fast approaching. A final right into a small collection of houses that were rented out to vagrants and wanderers (she could feel their eyes boring into her as she cut through their yard) and the crackle of the roaring flames reached her ears, even if Cassandra couldn't see them.

"Water, bring me water damnit or we're losing the Narrows tonight!" Cassandra heard a distinct voice ring out over the shrill shrieks of a wailing babe. She came near to a small group that was discussing a plan of action to fight the fires, and as she slowed her run to a walk, she caught the eye of a face she recognized from out of the group. Grimacing, the short and stocky man that she had known for most of her life walked quickly over to brief her on the events that had rapidly unfolded throughout the night.

"Wish we had time for small talk, Cassandra, but this fire is the worst we've seen here in the Narrows since I was a boy", her uncle Edgar spoke to her rapidly. "If you can carry a bucket, head over to Wexton's Arms Emporium, his warehouse just caught fire a few minutes ago and he could use the help. Good luck", and with that small command Cassandra's uncle turned his back to begin shouting orders to the other fire fighting crews that had just arrived to help from other districts.

She sprinted to Wexton's, and she could feel the heat emanating out from the fire before she saw the blaze that was fast engulfing the square. There were a few dozen men and women filling buckets from three separate water carts in an attempt to fight the flames, but Cassandra knew it was too late for her to make a difference for the warehouse; Wexton's was completely engulfed in an inferno that reached for the clouds.

Instead, she circled to the left of the large building, weaving in and out of the crowd of brave fire fighters as she searched for her family's house. Cassandra was too late. She wiped the sweat off her brow as she rounded the bend, and saw that the second floor had already caught fire, and half of the roof had caved in. Two charred corpses lay on the cobblestones in front of the house, and judging by their length Cassandra had a safe bet in her mind that they were her parents.

Tears welled in her eyes. Their lives weren't supposed to end like this. She wiped her face vigorously, her despair turning into rage then to determination. Her sister's body was nowhere in sight, and to Cassandra that could only mean she was still inside. She steeled her mind and raced for the front door, bursting through into the foyer with a well-placed kick.

Flames licked the sides of the walls, eating at the wood with eager abandon. A faint trail of blood led through the only entryway not engulfed in the inferno, so Cassandra shielded her face and walked in between the archway of fire, taking care not to let any embers leap on to her exposed skin.

There was smoke everywhere, and Cassandra found it hard to breathe, though she knew there was no turning back. She had to find her sister, no matter what. She entered the kitchen, and though the fire was threatening to enter the room, the only danger (yet) was the haze of smoke that obscured her vision.

Cassandra heard a faint coughing, and knew she was near her sister. "Chantelle! I'm here, Chantelle, it's your sister!" She cried out across the room, and pushed through the smoke.

"Chantelle is a little preoccupied, lovey", a familiar voice spoke softly from the other side of the wall of smoke.

" R-Roger? You came here to help?" Cassandra questioned. She continued to walk through the smoke, tentatively now.

"In a fashion", Roger whispered with a chuckle.

Cassandra's vision cleared, and she could now see Roger holding on to her sister in the center of a ring of smoke. He held a knife to her throat, with an evil smile on his lips.

"Welcome to the party, Cass", Roger drew the knife across Chantelle's throat, and a thin red line began to spill blood across the front of her shift.

"Why?" A roaring filled her ears, and the room began to spin around Cassandra as she screamed out for her sister. Roger laughed, dropping Chantelle and the knife to the ground, and walked out to the yard through a side door. Cassandra's lungs continued to fill with smoke, her vision began to blur, and she dropped to her knees in front of her sister.

Tears were streaming down her face, pouring freely in rivulets as they dripped off her chin to the ashen floor of her kitchen. Her world was collapsing around her, burning down with the building she had lived in her whole life. She could hear someone yelling faintly in the distance, and the roof began to ache and groan above her. A hand grabbed her by the arm, pulling tightly, just as her mind shut down.

:(

We need a fourth chapter, Cassandra must get her sweet sweet revenge!