The bloodless Assassin lies in wait, motionless in the deepest ink black depths. A lone sentinel and gatekeeper to an oak-aged booty. Waiting silently for the perfect moment to unleash his arsenal.

Prepare to be boarded. Full tilt rye whisky character runs a shot across your bow, followed by a broadside of cinder toffee and ripe fruit. The Assassin finishes you off with its trademark bitterness.

A twenty-first-century man-o-war. The Assassin is coming to claim your soul. Enjoy this rare aged beast and remember - dead men tell no tales...