"Nothing is true; Everything is permitted."
The creed, three simple rule's. The basis of a faction, a faction of the shadow's. They call us assassin's, they call us murderer's ... we fight for peace, but is that so hollow, so trivial a cause? No, it is not. Our enemies think it that way ...
The first of the three maintain's order and ensure's that our kind stay on the right path. "Stay your blade from innocent flesh."
The second is what give's us strength, for it allow's us to accomplish our task's with little difficulty. A blade in the crowd, if you will. "Hide in plain sight."
The third is the most important, the worst of all betrayal's. To break this code is to betray the brotherhood. "Never compromise the brotherhood."
To follow these key rule's is to be a true assassin, to derive your strength from what you truly are. Now my brother, you have entered the fold. Betray it and you life shall be stolen by my blade. As you already know, it is the Third Crusade. Richard and Saladin, leader's of the opposing faction's, fight a war that shake's the Holy Land's very foundation's. They are not our enemies, yet they are the incarnation of what we fight to prevent. Crusader and Saracen alike, neither and both are our enemies.
Remember, there is no greater weapon than to be unseen. Stay amongst the crowd, sheath your blade and walk silent. Approach your enemy, strain your left hand into position and focus. Control the adrenaline, you must compensate for it's adverse affect's. Clench your fist and bring your hidden blade forward, bend your leg's and release your energy. Ensure it is a clean kill, ensure that your blade connect's with their neck.
A masterful kill to be sure, but now you must flee. To stay and fight is to die, so be swift as the wind you must. Take to the rooftop's if need be, just ensure you follow the first of the creed. Kill your pursuer's if need be, but control your blade. Such is the way of our kind, a hidden blade which require's speed and focus to handle. Thrust it into your enemies heart, then withdraw it back into the shadow's. Understand this and you understand our way's, but remember to expect the unexpected. Learn what you can and ensure your cover is not compromised before the blade connect's.
Of course, fleeing is not alway's an option and sometime's the Guard's will surround you from all side's. This is when to draw your blade and bring it to their's, wait for an opening and strike. Defend and counter, do not leave yourself vulnerable. Of course these are basic thing's and I can guarantee almost every kill you accomplish will not be so and that is why our strength can also be derived from being able to adapt. Remember, each piece of your equipment has it's use and that each opponent has it's strength's.
Your hidden blade give's ample opportunities to eliminate your opponent silently, whilst your long sword truly shine's in a sword fight. Your throwing dagger's and crossbow afford's you range, giving you the perfect tool's to strike from afar. Your short sword offer's a more swift strike than your sword, yet make's it difficult to defeat many enemies at once.
The rest is for you to learn, for you to know. Heed these word's of advice, these rule's and you will succeed. Fail and you will become as ill-disciplined as a drunk with a blade. Live on into the dark horizon, as shadow's fall upon the Holy Land ... but remember the most important thing of all.
"Nothing is true; Everything is permitted."
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Captain Marcus Aralius looked over an old piece of parchment that he had recieved only moment's before. The delicate item had been sprawled neatly across the table, held down by numerous book's and paperweight's. A gust of wind silent cut through the delicate silk that so fully smothered the window's into his chamber. Two guard's silently stood either side of the door, their face's betraying little as to their emotion's.
"You have my leave."
The knight's nodded and went on their way, quickly exiting before he re-considered. His hand again fell upon the hilt of his sword as he fingered the intricate design, tracing the inscription upon the carefully created design. He rolled up the parchment and reached for a mug of ale, chuckling at the content's of the document before him. Suddenly the door flew open, accompanied by a large gust of wind. The body of the two guard's fell before him, cast down by some unknown assailant.
"Guard's! Come to my aid!"
He knew such a gesture was futile, but perhap's it would unnerve his foe. When no reply came he drew his sword, spinning it thrice in a threatening motion. A quick motion behind him alerted him to the sudden danger, but it was already too late. The shadowy figure impaled him upon a longsword, wiggling it about inside him. He roared in agony as the assassin retired to the shadow's, making godspeed for an escape. Everything went black ...
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Hyshппn withdrew his blade from the target's torso, dragging it's tip along the stoen floor for a moment as he flicked his wrist skyward. The motion brought the sword into the air and flipped it as he twisted his hand to insert it into the scabbard with speed. A moment of silence fell upon him as the adrenaline of the kill faded. He came to his sense's as five guard's burst into the room, their weapon's drawn and their eye's fixed upon the body amidst the chamber.
He sank against the wall as he considered his option's, his eye's darting between the door and the guard's. The guard's formed a star formation, leaving a gap at the door and a figure facing away from Hyshппn. He darted forward, leaping upon the guard's back and impaling him with a bolt from his crossbow. After returning the crossbow to it's harness he leapt again from the guard, landing and spinning on his heel as he released four throwing dagger's with an unmatched precision.
A few minute's later ...
Hyshппn sank against the wall of the local bearau, finding comfort as he heard the guard's sprint past moment's later. Though an assassin, he was not denied the lavish possession's of his kill's, so long as he was discreet about it. He chuckled at the concept as he wiped a bit of blood from the corner of his mouth, a result of the recent pursuit.
He lay against a exotic arrangement of pillow's and drained the content's of a golden grail, fingering the vivid arrangement of gem's upon it's side. He cast the flask aside and sank back into the comfort of the silk, letting it's soft surface caress his skin, as he fell into a deep slumber.
Dezoras Trogan though very young is skilled with his hands, and uses the shadows to his advantage. He sat in an ally way covered by the shadow of the buildings as the sun was setting in the distant mountains. He could feel the warm breeze upon his exposed skin, but that alone did not beat the thrill, the excitement that ran through his veins. So many targets ran unaware of his presence, and with in they're belt pouches held gold pieces he would use to feed himself for another day. This was exciting to him, not only because it was the only life he knew, but it was the only thing that tamed the howl in his skull.
Casual he walked out into the streets, weaving through the crowd of people in the shopping district of the Nobel section. The fine silks and tapestries were amazing to him still even after seeing them all this time. He had a small dream to one day be able to afford new clothes, to wear something made of silk,to truly know how soft it would feel upon his course sun ravaged skin.
There in front of him was his target, some one new, unaware of what was about to be taken from them. Would they even notice? Dezoras wasn't certain, nor did he really care for that matter. He figured if they had enough to spend on frivolous things then they had enough to 'donate' to his cause. And his cause was that of his simple survival in the world. He could hear the howl and growing with in his skull growing louder as he approached his target. Dezoras bummed into the man, distracted him by apologizing to him as he casually slipped his hand behind the mans back and removed him of his pouch of gold and slipped it into his pocket.
Dezoras and the man he recently relieved of his heavy burden parted ways. His new destination was that of the poor district, to a place where he called home. And with him he would bring food, to last the day. Only to begin his hunt again at the rising of the new days sun.
Cornado continued walking, but not without doubt and worry. He had long wondered what was left in his life since his exile. He had decided that he would commit his skills to ending the Third Crusade which had led him to many cities in and out of the Holy Land, killing Templars as he went.
Then the moment had come, he had been caught by King Richard himself. Cornado had been following Richard's follower, Robert de Sable, when the King had seen him. When he had surrendered after quite a long chase, the King had been kind, allowing Cornado to return to the Holy Land.
He stopped, sighed, and shifted his feet.
"I have no where to go," He said to himself. Suddenly the sound of galloping filled the air, coming from all sides. Cornado, familiar with the sound, began to run quickly toward a ditch to attempt to hide.
He stumbled and tried to get back on his feet. A flash of a red cross flew by him, then darkness. Complete darkness.
Hyshïïn witnessed a poor fellow rob a rich merchant of his fair earning's. Such thing's were not uncommon, but showed either desperation or poor character. As an assassin he was not a villain, in fact he was a hero. Everywhere he went, people nodded respect and sang praise of his deed's. Guard's and such ilk attempted to supress his and other's reputation in an attempt to deprive the assassin's of their fame and fortune. Though still it was oft when the rich merchant happened upon the bearau with a hefty sum to donate.
It was only minute's ago when he had driven the guard's away from a paticulary fine woman, saving her from rape and worse. She thanked the notion with a purse of gold piece's, though he declined, simply content with the goodwill of the city folk. A lavishly dressed noble emerged from a nearby palace, surrounded by guard's and friend's alike. The man in question was quite obese and laden with luxuries and treasure's that the poor could only acquire by prayer. He moved up to a nearby beggar and launched him into a nearby merchant stand, berrating him for his action's and ordering his guard's to take him away.
Hyshïïn intervened only a moment later, drawing his short sword and rendering the guard's in question incapacitated. The noble hesitated in his response and turned on his heel, abandoning his guard's to fate. Meanwhilst the beggar, shaped like a twig, spasmed silently on the floor. His muscle's wracked with pain and every fibre of his being shaken, he laid still for a minute before recovering. Hyshïïn assisted the man to his feet and offered him a small token from the Creed; a golden medallion. The treasure would fetch the man a home and enough food to last for a lifetime; hopefully.
"I th-th-thank you for the gesture, finally I can eat f-f-food!"
"Hide the medallion and make for your home at godspeed. Don't look back and don't go down any dark avenue's. Make sure the town guard can see you at all time's."
The figure nodded and scurried away, holding the medallion tight to his chest and yelping in joy. A town guard approached the scene and noticed the two men on the floor, instantly turning an angry gaze upon Hyshïïn. The guard drew his blade and thrust it at the assassin, only to find him dodge aside. As a Master Assassin he outclassed this guard in every aspect, making this fight trivial. A quick hit to the neck from his hidden blade brought the guard down, causing the ground to turn red from his fluid's.
He quickly took to free-running and fled the area at full-pace, having already caused enough trouble for one day. After roof-hopping for a short time he came across the most amazing scene. There stood King Richard the Lionheart, clad in his crimson-gold armor and atop his mighty steed. Surrounded by a retinue of guard's and friend's alike he rode valiantly down Acre's main street, casting an aura of awe and hope upon the nearby bystander's.
Hyshïïn smiled at his friend and sheathed his blade, having kown Richard along time ago through an old mission of his. During said mission he happened upon the King with guard's pursuing him at full haste. The King hid him and sent the guard's astray, intent upon helping the local-hero. Since then they had become friend's, but that was a closely guarded secret. Whenever Richard lost a commanding officer he knew who had committed such an act, but held his tongue in concern and respect. He knew that Hyshïïn only eliminated those who posed a threat to peace and order in the Holy Land, an admirable goal in his eye's.
Such a relationship was not so surprising though, as assassin's eliminated only corrupt commander's and leader's, which in truth strengthened said faction. Richard cast a hollow gaze at Hyshïïn and his expression became a look of happiness. Hyshïïn made a mental note as to speak with Richard during his stay in Acre, before he left for the war front again. Though the King only spoke French, Hyshïïn was fluent in their tongue so it was not so much an issue.
An English king who can't speak English ... the assassin chuckled at the prospect. Richard read his expression from the roadway and smiled, then returned his attention to the crowd as not to arouse suspicision. A wanted sign flew by, which Hyshïïn managed to grab before it escaped his reach. He read the name as Dezoras which detailed a young man much alike the one he had seen earlier in the merchant quarter. He recognised the description as that paticular boy and changed direction in the instant, making haste to save the boy.
One fact he did not see; the boy faced excecution tonight should he be caught, alongside with two of the Brotherhood's number. Meanwhilst three squad's of guard's surrounded the boy, hiding in the shadow's and atop the rooftop's. A large muscular Templar guard reached forward and caught his shoulder, tugging him to the ground as he beat him to a pulp and tied him up, dragging him to the excecution square with the rest in tow.
Shortly after Dezoras had claimed his prize from the Nobel, he was being hunted by the city guards. This time it wasn't only excitement that coursed through him, but fear as well. The guards didn't take to thieves to kindly, in fact thieves they did end up catching died shortly after. Dezoras was intent not to be made an example of.
He ran quickly through the city streets knocking down stands and baskets, making any attempt to slow down the guards pursuit of him. It worked but only momentarily, just like vultures in the sky they quickly found him and were on his hide once again. Dezoras quickly grabbed some one and shoved them into one of the guards knocking them both to the ground. Then up ahead he noticed something dreadful, something that made all hope diminish into a shriveled pile of dust.
Up ahead was more guards, more people determined to stop him and make him an example to any others who'd pick to follow in his path. Quickly he looked to the left but it was blocked by closely built buildings. He thought about stopping but stopping would only ensure that he was captured by the ones following behind him. But to continue going straight would bring him straight into the arms of those who always wanted to remove him of his life.
He could hear a loud growl and howl echo through his skull as he looked to the right and noticed buildings he could sneak into. The crowed around started to build up more, becoming more dense and harder to run through. Then panic flurried through his body as something grabbed the back of his shirt and started to drag him. He couldn't see the face of his captor, but he knew he had to get away some how in some way.
Dezoras thrashed about trying to break free, but all attempts were futile. Who ever had him and a good hard grip and refused to let go. He could feel his heart sink into his chest, in to an eternal black hole of misery. He only hopped that death would be quick, he hopped he would not have to suffer.
Hyshïïn leapt from the rooftop with his hidden blade well extended and readied. He fell upon Dezoras' captor and pierced his neck with a powerful strike. The body fell and drew him down with it, as he struggled to free his blade from the chainmail. He succeeded in time to dodge a large battle axe that almost decapitated him. He span round and drew his sword, splitting open an unfortunate Guard's leg, sending him to the ground in agony. Blood sputtered Hyshïïn's robe and his face, giving him a somewhat crimson attire.
"Run Dezoras, get out of here!"
The guard's came like gnat's, sneaking out of every corner and bringing their might down upon the assassin. He killed a good twenty before being overwhelmed, the enemy having number's and position amongst their many advantage's. He drew his crossbow and unleashed it's bolt's into their rank's, accompanied by a chorus of throwing knives. Even then their tide was not stemmed, as the flow was like blood from a fresh wound, pouring down the alleyway and dragging him with it.
Archer's on the roof's above him unleashed wave after wave of sharp projectile's at him, forcing him to take cover at regular interval's. Spearwielder's extended their weapon's through the Crusader's rank's, lunging at him at the most inconvenient of time's. The boy's life was priority, his escape second. He had to buy the youngster time to escape, but one thing was obvious. They had expected his presence and very much used the boy as bait to bring out the assassin.
No way would they bring out more than three guard's to pursue a thief, yet alone a juvenile. He countered their number's at about fifty, sixty if you added the archer's atop the roof's. His option's were fast becoming exhausted as they surrounded him, making any attempt at escape a futile gesture. He ran at a nearby wall and attempted to scale the building, only to be brought down by a barrage of rock's and sword point's.
A master assassin was not without skill in a open confrontation however, which was very much credited by the prowess he displayed with his blade against the endless tide's of city guard's. Eventually their number's thinned in a paticular section however, allowing him to charge and tackle his way through the formation onto the open street. From there onward's it was a simple free-running to a hay cart trick, into which he vanished for a moment.
Minute's later he found Dezoras again, moving beside him with haste and purpose. He tossed the boy a short sword and dagger, smiling at him.
"You have quick hand's, the sign of a great assassin. If you want a life, then I have a proposal. Join the Brotherhood and come with me to Maysaf, where I can proclaim you an initiate and my apprentice. You'll be given purpose, a place to live and more luxuries than a lifetime's worth. Plus of course you can satiate your hunger for adventure ..."
Dezoras looked at the short sword and dagger that he held with unfamiliarity in his hands. He had never held any kind of weapons before. He was more use to running from danger, and avoiding capture then having to fight for his own life with weapons of death. He looked at the unfamiliar person standing in front of him. He had been offered a chance at a new life, a new place to live, and he assumed with out the pursuit of guards. He hadn't known anything place really then the ground he was standing upon now.
But if this man offered him a chance to learn to use the weapons he now held oddly, and live a life as what he called an 'assassin' then should Dezoras be foolish enough to pass that up. He heart was brought back from the internal plummet it had felt earlier, this time with pure determination to be come more then what he currently was.
"Alright." Dezoras said looking up at the man "I'll go with you"
He was slightly afraid with the uncertainty of what he might face. But anything had to be better then the life he was now living.
Cornado awoke. Quickly he took in his surroundings, though he did not know where he was, he had learned that it could be an easy thing to tell if one paid enough attention. He was in a small room with blood stains on the wall, amongst him laid 3 big sacks, and a asleep guard.
"Always asleep," Cornado muttered to himself, "haven't they learned yet?"
Cornado turned his attention to himself. His hands and legs were tied and he was sitting on a empty sack, he supposed that the snoring guard was suppose to have put this on him. He noticed his throwing knives were gone, but his hidden blades, being hidden, had not been found. He flexed his hand allowing one of the blades to be summoned. He then leaned forward falling face down, winced, then brought his legs up to his outstretched arms. Quickly he cut the rope on his legs then on other hand, which he used to untie his right.
A few minuted later
Cornado approached the man on the stage, who was finishing up his speech. As soon as the man stepped down his fist slammed into the man's face. Suddenly the man wielded and begged for mercy.
"Coward," Cornado thought.
"Please, please. What do you want?"
"Information, now answer quickly! Where am I?"
"Acre! You are in Acre!"
"Acre...why are the Templers here, and what is that building?"
"King Richard is here and that is the execution building! Now please let me go!"
Cornado paused, as a Assassin he had been instructed to kill the people he question, but not now. "Fine go."
"Thank you!" The man exclaimed before he ran off.
Cornado sat on a near by bench wondered whether or not to free the men to be executed.
"What have they done for me? Nothing, but why not?" He sighed then thought ,"I will attend the execution later, and decide what to do then."
Hyshïïn gestured for a second assassin to emerge from the shadow's nearby. The figure acknowledged the order and did so, revealing his form to the small boy as two more guard's rush past.
"Take this boy to the stable's and wait there for me. Ensure no harm come's upon him ... I have an excecution to go to."
A few hour's later ...
Hyshïïn pushed through the crowd as the host opened his arm's to encompass the square, followed by a chanting of praise and anticipation. The prisoner's quivered slightly, trying to find whatever way to free themselves from the restraint's. A quick motion and the host had turned, gripping a paticular victim by the neck and thrusting him forward. The victim's were kneeling with their hand's tied behind them, each with a guard at each flank. Laughter filled his ear's as the man clad in moonlight robe's taunted the fallen prisoner, holding a dagger to his face and twisting it about in a dance of madness. An axe-wielding Templar stepped forward and moved his right hand to the top of the axe haft, using the left to support it from beneath.
The crowd continued chanting, overcome by bloodlust and excitement, a certain thrill overtaking them. Hyshïïn knew that he could not watch an innocent man die in such a way, that he would have to intervene. He gently pushed forward, advancing with the hood covering his cold visage. He extended the hidden blade thrice, soothing the adrenaline that threatened to so totally damn him. Then the crowd fell silent as the axe fell. Hyshïïn rushed forward and drew his crossbow, unleashing a bolt into the guard's chest. He swung the end of the device at a nearby guard, pulling him to the floor with it's hooklike design.
He threw a knife at the guard nearest the host, then sprinted and leapt upon the noble himself, hidden blade extended and directed at his throat. Again blood spattered Hyshïïn's once pristine white robe's as the guard's suddenly recognised the scene before them. A spear-wielding knight charged, his weapon extended before him as he directed the ornate tip at the assassin's heart. A quick motion and a duck saw Hyshïïn safe beneath the weapon as it glided overhead, barely skimming the top of his hood. He reached up and gripped it, pulling it in with his right hand as he extended his hidden blade into the wielder's throat.
Meanwhilst the imprisoned assassin's worked the binding's lose and grabbed a sword each from the fallen guard's. They leapt into the fray, spinning and kicking at whatever opening's remained. Hyshïïn nodded respect as he moved next to the prisoner's, cutting their bonding's and directing them to an escape. The crowd had since vacated, utterly terrified at the unfolding event's. The courtyard began to fill with guard's, who fell all too easily to a quick bite from his throwing blade's. It seemed that even a Master Assassin could not hold back the limitless number's yet again, as he directed the men to an exit.
They tried to argue but he found none of it a decent claim, as he shoved them through a small alcove in the wall. He jabbed his sword into the rock above it, prying loose a small rockfall to prevent them from being followed. Hyshïïn fought on as more and more guard's rushed in, their blade's held skyward and their tongue's calling for blood. His blood.
Jack walked forward to Hyshппn, his chainmail armor making metally noises as he went. He was clad in chainmail armor, with a surcoat, a flattopped helmet and a red cape. He drew his sword and pointed it at the assassin.
"Well well well, what do we have here?" he said, his voice was heavily british accent. "An assassin, eh?"
He laughed coldly. He withdrew his blade, and a second after he attacked. His sword style was built of quick, graceful strikes, and he was very trained in that art...
Hyshïïn motioned his right wrist to bring his gauntlet against the oncoming blade, deflecting it whilst sacrificing little position. A second motion brought another guard's life to a close, as the hidden blade was propelled through his neck. Moment's later another fell, as Hyshïïn crouched and did a half turn, drawing his blade in the process as to sever his leg's. He rose after accomplishing that task, sheathing his blade and casting three more throwing knives into the fray. The battle continued, as the pace quickened, forcing Hyshïïn to conjure a second blade from his cloak.
He drew out his other blade and dual-wielded both, deflecting and parrying attack's as they came. The only time he struck back was when they left an opening, room for a counter so to speak. Such a manouever would render his target's dead or dying, as even if he missed his strike, an unlikely occurance, he could redirect his wrist and extended his hidden blade, killing them anyway's. Hyshïïn thrust one of his blade's into a nearby Crusader, allowing him to drag it to the floor as he tried to withdraw it from his flesh. He filled the empty hand with a short axe and began to hack at the nearby formation's.
Within second's they were fighting upon a mountain of corpse's and the dying, Hyshïïn's skill proving more than a match for the Crusader's vigour. Even then his stamina was far too great to allow for fatigue, unlike the metal-clad guard's who struggled with each movement. Archer's could do little in such an enviroment, as their attack's were just as likely to cause their allies harm as they were to the assassin. Soon their was only two guard's left, the British-accented guard who donned a red cape and a Templar knight. Hyshïïn front flipped over the Templar and cast a throwing knife into his neck mid-jump, then landed behind him and brought his body round just as the British guard thrust his sword forward.
The English-man's blow ultimately killed the Templar, leaving only he and the assassin standing. Hyshïïn cast the corpse aside and sheathed his weapon, waving at the guard as he took three step's back. He flung his wrist as a nearby rope, extending his blade and cutting the mechanism. A large lifting device was brought round at astonishing speed's, it's load of log's smashing into the guard's head. His helmet saved his life, but he was likely in alot of pain. Hyshïïn felt a strange sense of mercy and fate as he re-considered ending the guard.
More guard's arrived at that moment, forcing him to make a split second decision. He threw the unconcious guard, who his fellow's had earlier referred to as Jack, across his shoulder's and sprinted toward's the stable with him. He threw him onto a horse and brought the boy upon it as well, who had been waiting with the assassin in question. The trio rode out of the gate's and made godspeed to Maysaf ...
Dezoras was having trouble making heads or tails of anything. The day started out like any other, he got up and headed to the Nobel Distract to earn some quick loot to buy food for the day. Then after he gained his reward from a generous benefactor he was being chased by guards, a lot of guards. Then some mysterious man comes falling from the sky killing the guards, who he later finds out is an assassin. And now out of all things he had accepted training from this man. Then he got stuck waiting with another assassin he didn't really know, didn't really care to know. All of this was starting to make his head worse.
But if all of that didn't put a dent into his normal routine now he was thrown onto a horse galloping at full speed towards who knows where. Dezoras notice the scenery started to change from grassy hills to desert sand and harsh warm winds. In the distance he could see a town drawing closer to them, but the assassin didn't slow down, he merely rode right through the town jumping over carts of hay, or stalls that happened to be in the way. In everything Dezoras heart raced with more excitement then he had ever known. And he could tell that the animal inside him was enjoying this as well.
After a while he saw a gated village in the corner of a cliff side. Dezeros shut his eyes tight wondering if the assassin was going to slow down or some how magically make them invincible and burst right through the thick wooden gate.
Hyshïïn slowed as he neared the gate, veering into a stable imbedded into the rockface. After dropping from the saddle he threw the injured Guard over his shoulder's and moved through the gateway, nodding to the Assassin's who stood guard. He moved up the mountain at a quick pace, making for the castle structure atop a central hill. The portcullis flew open and a small group of his kin extended their hand's in respect and greeting, but he simply walked past without a word. He made for his quarter's in the keep, throwing the man down upon the bed and removing his helmet. A servant moved to his side and removed the man's armor, taking it to the blacksmith for repair's.
A second servant entered with a large bottle of wine and poured it into three glasses, each set neatly along the windowledge nearest to a door leading onto the balcony. After setting the servant about tending to the man's wound's he moved onto the balcony, gesturing for the boy to follow. The balcony gave a most wonderful view, with something that seemed somewhat like heaven. Huge rolling valley's with a glimmering river running through the center filled the image, giving off some sort of holy splendour to all who gazed upon it. He sat down at a ornate table, with four seat's surrounding it. A small feast had been laid out and the room itself was draped with luxurious silk.
"Your bedroom is through the door to the left of the entrance. If you need a servant to attend you or desire something, please inform the attendant, Haarols' and he will sort out any issue's. You will you live and dine like a king as an assassin, whilst still enjoying the thrill of combat and the adrenaline of stealth. You may come and go as you please and if you desire training or a mission, simply inform me. Now tuck in, eat as much as you like."
He smiled at the initiate and drew a glass of wine to his lip's, sipping the violet content's from the cup and letting the gentle liquid caress his lip's. A servant handed a small key to Dezoras and smiled, as she moved off elegantly.
"That's the key to your vault, which will contain all your possession's, as much money as you could wish for and your arsenal of weaponry."
Dezoras stood there in silence looking down at his hand which now held a key to a vault, and not just any vault, his own personal vault. He wasn't sure if god was playing some kind of cruel joke upon him or whether for once god was showing mercy. Dezoras started to wonder what his parents would think of him becoming an assassin, potentially. He couldn't answer that question, he could hardly remember them.
Before Dezoras lived with the only thing he knew, take what people had to much of so he could survive. And he knew his parents would at least want him to survive. Being here however, in this place was something he could have never imagined. The animal inside him howled with joy and excitement. But he had questions, maybe to many questions or to little but he still had questions.
"Does it contain anything Now?" He asked knowing that would be his first question that will potentially become a long line of questions as time passed.
He still held the unfamiliar weapons clumsily in his hand. Dezoras knew very well that if he ever tried to fight with these for real he'd be killed instantly. He was more use to hiding in the shadows,blending his face with that of the crowed. Then to have a confrontation where his life maybe on the line. But he chose a new life now, a new way of living he had to get use to using these weapons, and possibly several others.
"Also I don't know how to use these" He said holding up his left arm showing the short sword and dagger.
"Well as for weapon training, I can teach you. As for the vault, it contain's at least fifty set's of clothe's, all made from the finest material's. It also contain's many jewel's and alot of money for you. I have a question of my own to pose, however. When do you intend to become a full-fledged initiate?"
Hyshïïn raised his left hand, revealing that one finger had been cut off so that his hidden blade could be utilized safely. He returned his hand to the glass and again sipped at it's content's, remembering the day of his initiation full-fledged.
Dezoras took in a big breath of air and held it for several moments thinking. To be a full initiate he had to lose a finger on his left hand. The finger was the one closes to his pinky fingers. He exhaled the breath of air knowing that it would be a small price to pay for all the things he could gain by training with Hyshiin. He slide the key into the pouch he had placed upon his belt, leaned the short sword against a near by wall, and held the dagger firmly in his left hand.
He wasn't going to lie, the idea of going through the pain that he knew he would experience was frightening to say the least. His breath was a little staggered as he continued to look down at his hand. This definitely wasn't in his daily plans, but so far most of this day went against everything he usually did. Then suddenly Dezoras wasn't afraid of more, his heart and breathing steady and he looked at Hyshiin dead in the eyes showing Hyshiin his determination to succeed.
"Is there a Ritual at all?" he ask his voice unwavering.
Hyshïïn raised a finger from under the table; Dezoras' finger. He put it down amidst a napkin and folded it thrice, then placed it to the side. He chuckled slightly and passed Dezoras a gauntlet with a hidden blade attatched on the underside. He cast a bloodied dagger aside and handed the boy a small bandage to cover the gentle wound afflicted by his blade.
"Welcome to the brotherhood."
Taking the gauntlet and the bandage he bowed slightly with respect. He placed the bandage over the area where his finger use to be then slide the gauntlet over his arm. He noticed something were different about the gauntlet but this was one thing he wanted to learn on his own. He slide his fingers along the forearm of the gauntlet taking note of an area where the blade came out, and the triggers that were upon the palm. He knew it would take some time to truly master this weapon but he was willing to put in the effort.
Dezoras walked over to the wall where he had placed the sword and picked it up. He turned his attention back to Hyshiin and bowed once more.
"I am going to go change master." Dezoras said and departed Hyshiin's room walking to his own.
When he arrived it was greater then what he had imagined. The tapestries were beautifully created, and the fabrics were softer then anything he's ever felt before. He placed his short sword upon the near by table and started to look around more. He noticed some books on a shelf. He walked over to the books, picked one up and started thumbing through it. Some of the words he could make out, but not all of them. Dezoras wasn't completely illiterate but teaching yourself to read was a very slow and daunting process.
Out of the corner of his eyes he noticed some clothes were laid out upon the bed. Slowly he closed the book and walked over to the white, and red clothes that laid upon the bed. He placed the book down and started to change his clothes. Amazingly enough everything seemed to fit perfectly, and felt so soft upon his skin. He didn't realize it until later but he was smiling, and was slightly enjoying the beginnings of his new life. Dezoras sat down and picked up the book again, he figured just because he was going to be an assassin some day, didn't mean he should stop himself from teaching himself how to read.
((By the way, Jack was a Templar Master, not a guard.)
Jack woke up in a strange place, and found that his armor was gone. He sat up, pulling his fingers through his hair to waken him up. Since he was a Master of the Templars he knew that the knights would try to rescue him, if only they knew where he was. As he sat up the memories began to flow through his mind.
"Assassins!" he said as the memory of the battle came back.
He stood up, standing in a combat ready stance with his fists, and looked through the beautiful bedroom for enemies. Once he had made sure that there were no threats in the room, he lowered his fists and sat down. A servant entered, carrying Jacks armor with her. When she saw him, she smiled a little bit, putting down his armor on the bed. As soon as she let go of the armor, Jack stood up and grabbed her arms.
"Who are you, and where am I?" he as threatingly. The servant tried to get loose, but she was weak, and he had been trained since he was a child.
"You are in Masyaf, and I am a servant for the assassins," she said, terrified. Jack closed the door with a kick. He released her, pushing her down on the bed.
"Stay there," he said in a firm voice. She could do nothing but obey.
Jack put on the chainmail armor, the mail boots, and the mail gloves. He quickly put on his white surcoat with the red templar cross on, fixing it in place with the leather belt. As he put on the flat-topped helmet, he noticed that his sword was out of the sheath. He asked the girl where it was.
"I do not know, no weapons are allowed in the fortress," she said. Jack nodded, that seemed likely. He planned to steal a sword of one of the assassins. He fastened his cape at the shoulders.
He left the room, making sure to lock the door behind him, and walked to see a nearby assassin standing guard. He noticed that this one was wearing a grey tunic instead of the long white robes he had seen on the one in Acre. He knew them as the lower assassins, standing guard for most of the time.
"Easy kill," he whispered to himself. He moved forward and snapped the mans neck. He grabbed his sword and sheath and fastened it to his belt. He ran out to the courtyard, and saw at least a hundred assassins out there. He tried to hide, but it was too late. The assassins had seen him.
The close assassins attacked him, and Jack easily killed them off, since they were also of the lower ranked ones. Once they were dead he ran to the gate, killing any assassins in his way, and managed to get out just as the gate closed.
(Sorry, forgot.)
A gentle breeze flowed onto the balcony from the mountain passes, caressing his finely chiselled feature's. A chorus of bird's echoed across the sky, filling the valley's with an unmatched tranquility. Hyshïïn closed his eye's as the death scream's of a brother flowed through the ornate corridor's of the citadel. He exhaled deeply, praying for his brother and thanking that his passing was quick and merciful. The Assassin silently raised himself form his chair and moved onto the rooftop, slowly walking along a rocky path carved into the delicate structure.
Moment's later he arrived at the courtyard, watching as the Templar tackled his way through the crowd, fighting to make for the exit. Hyshïïn gathered his strength and threw himself from the building, landing atop a central flagpole and then jumping for a pole hanging off the wall-tower. He landed squarely upon the beam and jumped down from the structure, landing in a cart of hay. Emerging quickly from the hay he moved to the gate, watching as the Warrior rolled through just as the portcullis fell.
He sighed gently, allowing the wind's to once again cast a cooling breeze across his form. The wind penetrated his clothes like a dagger, pricking at his skin like needle's, but he enjoyed the strange sensation. He pulled his crossbow from it's waist harness and directed the device at his head, keeping his hidden blade ready. The Templar turned around, briefly stunned by the Assassin's sudden appearance.
"You have no honour do you? No sense of chivalry ... you murdered an innocent old man you fool. That was no assassin, but an innocent man! Not to mention how you handled that female so harshly, you are ungracious! I brought you here to save your life and it worked, not to mention I repaired your armor and weapon."
He pulled a sheath from his leg and cast it at the Templar, spitting upon the ground as he did so. Chivalry was not an assassin's tenant, but Hyshïïn saw it as a valid one ... and this man just spat upon it. Every Crusader was bound by this ... this code of honour. He sighed again and turned, making toward's the gate and banging upon the portcullis twice.
"I will send a letter to King Richard and inform him of your deed. Expect to lose your rank and title, as I doubt the Templar's will allow such ... dishonourable men in their number."
((Sorry was at school))
Cornado was once again on the road. Unlike the Assassins he had watched leave Acre with a kid, he was on foot, and he had a different direction to go towards the city of Jerusalem. He sighed as he saw movement behind a shurb near by and retracted one of his hidden blades.
With a quick motion he cut down the three thugs that had tried to mug and rob him, with the result of the bodies and another long sigh. He had a long way to go. Under his breath he recited:
The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.
Then he continued on.
((sorry just got to that part in the book))
Jack watched the asssassin bang the gate infront of him, knowing he could easily kill him from behind, like the assassins killed his own brothers.
"Your accusations are not vaild, asssassin." he said. "Who do you think Richard will belive, me or an assasssin." He picked up his sheath and removed his helmet.
"You took me here to save my life, from what, I ask? From you!" Jack was starting to get angry. "That woman was not to be treated gracefully, since i was a captive, and I did nothing to her, like many of the guards do. The man was armed and was in your fortress, so he was either a guard or an assassin."
Jack put his helmet on again, running out of the assassin village. At the gate, he found some horses. He grabbed one of them and rode towards Acre.