The Eagle
It was a considerably chilling evening as the gushes of wind ran through the trees settled in Masyaf, posing little green in the otherwise drought town that was depraved of such, granting it with a rather desert-like appearance, which did little to contribute to the change of temperature that was inconsistent like the sea. The dawning heat upon the light of day that prolonged untill late in the evening before a cold breeze swept through the frigid buildings. You were seated atop of a roof, somewhere near the imposing castle that proved to be home to the assassins, glancing across its towering height and fascinating architecture. You were certain that it was cleverly build, for there was only one way in, and that was through the mountainpath that proved to be exhausting for those doing little exercise, leave be a horde of templars daring to engage war.
The assassins were feared by many, but it was also more fact than question that they protected the weak, and slaughtered the ones that dared to oppose such a humane rule. Your trail of thoughts continued as you rubbed your left arm, twirling your digits in the light black fabric that hugged your form. It was considerably comfortable, light, but simultaneously padded, and offered resistance to the cold at nights such as these. The thought of ever being with the assassins was alluring, but the fear behind such a commitment washed away the tempation, though you could not stop imagining to be near them, the skills they possessed, the subtle charms, and the little they needed to do for their silver tongue to work, it was truly magnificent, you envied them, if just a little. Your nights often passed like this, sitting atop of roofs, enjoying the starry nightsky, and watching the people pass by that never saw you. All of the men and women were caught in their own routine, even at night the town seemed full of life.
You were a young adult, but you were equally trained as the assassins in the castle, this you proudly told yourself, even if you were not arrogant, you simply knew you were more than adequate to face one in combat, not doubting your victory. Regardless, you were not part of the assassins, you were a simple citizen, for all they knew. You had made your own outfit, having learned at a young age by your father how to craft such, it led upto this, a black outfit, with padding, a red sash around your waist, reinforced by a leather belt underneath and small throwing knives attached to it. You had plenty of room for more equipment, if the need came, but for now, you settled with what you had: a longsword, throwing knives, and your own bare hands. Black certainly blended more with the night, which was an advantage to you as you eventually slipped down from the roof, subtly ending up on the sandy ground as your eyes glanced around, seperating individuals as they perused all that was in your periciphal.
Lately, you heard rumors of a man selling contraband, and you had tailed him for quite a while, gathering information through a period of patience, and eventually it all came to this, the restraint would eventually reward you, for you cannot solely strike one for assumptions or rumors that may have been fabricated to benefit someone else, to let them leave the bad light they were put in. Your feet glided across the pavement, the gushes of wind passing the black hood that framed your features, keeping sand from intruding your vision. It was difficult to see clearly with all of the individuals passing by, but it provided to be opportunity to cloak you as you blended in perfectly, drawing less attention, and it would give you more chance to seize the man that had committed such atrocities. Your eyes narrowed slightly as you followed, subtly so, following the long street in Masyaf before the man took an abrupt turn to the right, venturing into a building that lay quite remote, and posed to be a merchant's store, and you knew something was not right, it felt ominous and a shiver ran down your spine.
Nearing closer, the building appeared almost impenetrable, it had barely any windows you could slip into, and there was no open roof either. The only way in, and out, was the door, which may provide to be problematic. Softly, you breathed through your nose, lips pressing together as you approached, following swiftly after your target. What you observed within those walls was absolutely horrifying- there were several women shackled to the wall, covered in little rags of clothing that only just covered the neccesary parts- but the worst of all, they were all covered in painful bruises and cuts. The man posed to be a merchant, but it was a veil for a slave cartel. The stench of stale blood invaded your nose, though it having little affect, you had to swallow to focus again, you were here for a reason after all, and you needed to end that man's crimes today. It could not prolonge any longer, not anymore, not after what you had observed.
The man in question was rather chubby, wore a long brownish robe, and was bald, standing further inside the building, inspecting one of his female slaves. This was your chance. Idling no longer, you proceeded with caution, taking your longsword from its place and eventually sought to jerk it forth with a sharp motion, although, as you had hoped for a painful screech and blood, your sword was blocked by another. You were a few feet away from your target, and you made approach to attack, but giving the fact you were stopped by someone, it annoyed you all the more, considerably so that the slaver ahead was thankfully still unaware of the clash behind him. What perverted thoughts that man must have to be so oblivious to what happened behind him.
Instantly, your senses kicked in, feet spreading, one knee bending slightly to keep balance as you used your accomodating hand to pressure the blade, trying to overmaster the other, but it proved to be a stenuous struggle. Sweatbeads formed over your forehead, your eyes narrowed tightly, and your teeth grinding in frustration. You kept silent, no, you were not one to speak unless neccesary, as even your voice may be cause to validate your identity in the future. The other, however, did not do the same, the man wore white robes, a brown leather belt, and the robe was parted at the front to keep his legs free for amble movement. Damn, you knew exactly what you were dealing with. It was a signature outfit from the Assassins. ''Tell me why you have come to take my target'', he demanded, the voice threatening, making your heart thump even faster inside your chest that was already trying not to be hit by the other's sword as you were pushed back, leaving space between the two of you, though weapons were at ready.
Timid, you gradually began to feel like such, and your thoughts were once again trying to consume your mind, but you stilled, trying to compose yourself and your breathing, panting lowly, you eventually shook your heard. Fighting with an assassin would surely, if not maybe, end up with both nearly dead, and that wasn't the chance you were willing to take. You had tracked this merchant for months, and all of it would be in vain. Instead of proceeding the fight, you simply ran, bashing the assassin aside and moving your sword to impale the merchant who was about to turn around at the little of sound he had taken in. The longsword raked through the layers of clothing, through the tissue of the skin and eventually through the heart that stopped its beating. The man fell to the ground with a heavy thud of impact, causing a light tremor as you pulled the sword out, bending over the man as you looked down at him, your voice a whisper. ''Disgusting'', you only were able to articulate as you closed the man's eyes with your digits, offering him rest now his soul was with his gods, if they would take him.
As you turned, another blade was pressing against your chest, forcing you back against the wall as the assassin's stare remained buried into your own eyes. Hitting the wall was painful, but it was cold and gave you an unsettling feeling, but you would not falter now. Victory was at your hand, and no matter what would occur now, you had killed an abomination that could no longer threaten Masyaf, and these slaves would be free to return to their homes after a doctor had attended to them. Amber eyes remained glued onto yours, making you struggle, the sword within your hand still as blood dripped from it, moving onto the floor and creating a small puddle. ''Answer me, or I will leave you no choice''. The voice certainly had its allure, for a man's voice, naturally, it was distinctive unlike any other voice you had heard, either from man or woman. ''Tell me now! I am running thin on patience''. Somehow, your lips turned into an amused smile, tilting your head. The little light that shone upon the assassin's features through the window above you, revealing the other's face, now became clear, it was hardly amusing now. This was Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad. You had watched him before, seeing him run across the rooftops, taking down guards even when he was one against five, he was impressive. You cleared an apparent thump in your throat, reconsidering your actions, though you remained silent.