A/N: This short story was previously the second chapter to my story "The Fury Of An Assassin", but I decided to have a little bit of consistency between this account here and my account on DeviantArt (if you're interested, it's the same username as my account here). So I'm giving it it's own story.
I'm not really sure where this piece fits in to my larger Assassin's Creed story, but I liked it enough, and I came back and read some comments about people hoping that I continued on with the Ezio as a werewolf idea, so here it is. I was super pleased with this piece, especially since I wrote it at like, three in the morning, passed out just after writing it, and came back to it in the morning and went "...WOW."
Anywho, more Ezio wuffie goodness for you. Enjoy! (And remember, reviews make for a happy Seru! If you have reviewed this piece while it was on my other story, please don't feel the need to review again. I'm not that desperate for reviews. :P)
Ezio wandered into the ruins, his eyes open for anything that might strike him as suspicious or noteworthy. This part of Roma was new to him, as were most. The city was vast, and many of its ancient ruins dotted the landscape, frequently becoming part of his missions. He was thankful, for the most part, for them, as they gave him ample opportunities for hiding and stalking his prey, but this time, he felt the one being stalked. These ruins were unfamiliar, and he was certain there were eyes peering out at him from hidden places… He could feel their eyes on him, smell the sweat on their skin from a heated summer day in Italia… But he could not pinpoint their position, perhaps because the scents of several individuals muddled his senses, making it difficult to distinguish one from the other.
Come out, you thieves, he thought to himself, assuming his watchers to be bandits, interesting in nothing more than his money pouch, perhaps his seusenhofer armour, which would fetch a fair amount of coin at any blacksmith. He fingered his dagger at his belt, loosening it in its sheath should they attack en masse.
Without warning, several dark figures leapt at him from the shadows of the ruins, barraging him with throwing knives even as they closed the distance between them. Ezio cursed, leaping out of the way of their projectiles and retaliating with his own, felling two figures only to have them replaced with fresh ones that seemed to materialize out of the shadows.
Cazzo! He thought to himself. He had allowed himself to become complacent, and now he was in a fair amount of trouble. There were ten, maybe more, of these men, cloaked in heavy wolf skins with the skulls of the same forming macabre helms, protecting their wearers with their own skulls. They howled as they attacked, filling the air with the sounds of a pack of wolves descending on a wounded deer.
Ezio dodged the advances of one attacker, striking him in between the shoulder blades with his cinquedea and pushing him to the ground. Steeling himself for another attack, he quickly sheathed his blade and drew the sword of his ancestor, smiling as the blood of his attackers glimmered along its length.
The steely talon of Altaïr felled one attacker after another with deft precision, daring his future victims to come forward, but even the deadly effectiveness of the eagle was not enough. Men descended upon Ezio from above, closed in on him from the sides, he even half expected the ground to open up and deliver him into the arms of more men waiting for his blood.
Swinging his sword wildly, he gained precious inches of clearance between himself and his attacker and made a desperate bid for new ground. Sword in hand, he ran, hearing the pack bay out behind him. He darted into the nearby trees, hoping to buy a moment's respite to formulate a plan, but to no avail. His pursuers shared not only the visage of the wolf, but the determination, shouting out happily as they hunted, "Death to the Assassino!" and "Kill the Assassin!"
Seeing no other option, he sheathed his blade and stopped, turning to face them with a grim look on his handsome features. His boldness startled his pursuers, who stopped and regarded him with confusion.
He saw now that he had finished with most of them, and that luring them away from their lair was perhaps the best course of action he could have taken, for now they would be unable to take him by surprise. He was surrounded on three sides by trees too dense to be traversed and in the front by a pack of man-dogs eager for blood.
The scent of his fallen victims lingered on their comrades, tickling his nostrils and teasing him. It was tantalizing, and Ezio found himself unable to resist the allure.
"You fools think yourselves wolves?" he growled, furling his lips upward and exposing sharpened canines that jutted from his gums. "I will show you a wolf…"
