First thing's first: this is my first time ever posting "Fan Fiction" so forgive me if my writing is a bit... realistic. I do not own any part of the Franchise or the characters used here beyond myself and the ones I create and insert into the Assassin's Creed story line. This is a Self-Insert, and the first time a character I have created appears in the Story, their name will have a little (*) next to the name. After I have finished writing the series, which I hope gets a lot of reviews and feedback; I will give an entire chapter dedicated to backgrounds and general descriptions of my characters. Please enjoy this first installment of my new story, Assassin's Creed: Animus Project Beta.
Some instances have been exaggerated for blood and gore. All events concerning Connor take place after the main missions have been completed, with Lee and Haythem dead, and the PS3 exclusive Benedict Arnold missions completed. This is in free-play mode and all events happen as I come across them within the game. Please be patient between my postings, as I am a full -time college student which demands a lot of my time. I know that while this may not appear to be a lot for my first chapter but it was at least three pages long on Libre Office, and took me three months to get off the ground. Another chapter will be released soon and continuously at least once every three weeks now that I have a general idea of where I want to go with this story.
Connor sat, watching the gathering crowd carefully from the general store sign he had climbed onto. Tensions here in New York were really beginning to rise. For the revolution, this was a good thing. Riots had already broken out in Boston. It was time to escalate things here. The people had gathered, but they weren't doing enough to get the guards' attention. Blowing on one of 7 specialized hunting whistles, he called upon his assassin brother, and closest friend, Stephane, to start the riot. Blowing on another whistle, Connor called upon his newest recruit, a tom-girl named Dobby Carter. She was a woman who had certainly caught his eye. He was hoping that once this was all over, he could have a normal life, with her at his side. When he called out for her, she ran up to one of the guards taking his coin purse, teasing him, and ran back towards the growing crowd.
Stephane's words certainly riled up the crowd, boiling their blood. People began expressing their complaints, about being treated as slaves, about taxes being raised, and laws being created that nobody had voted for, and then being punished for not following the same laws. One person cried out loudest above all the rest, "NO MORE TREADING ON US!" - Words that would ring in Connor's ears for the rest of his life. With that, the crowd turned on the guards who were trying to control what had already become chaos, and the riot began. Blowing his final whistle, Connor jumped from his sign into the crowd, hidden blades released, and killed one of the guards before he could kill a civilian.
"Good on ya' mate! Give 'em anothah!"
Everyone stopped for a moment, staring at him in disbelief, and time seemed to slow down for him. The guards then turned their attention on Connor, and only Connor, as they attempted to exact revenge for their fallen comrade A fatal mistake that none of them would live long enough to regret. A flick of the wrist, and a rope dart fell from his right sleeve, attached to the gauntlet. Throwing the barbed knife at one of the guards, he caught him in the neck. Death was instantaneous as Connor yanked pulling the man's trachea out. But this was not enough for him. To ensure his death Connor caught the man as he fell and turned him around, the corpse catching a volley of musket balls from the rest of the guards. But Connor was not alone. When the guard had turned to face him, they had forgotten about the trouble makers in the crowd, Connor's brethren in arms. All of them came up behind the guards, knives drawn, stabbing the guards in the back, hands clasped around their mouths to silence them.
The time for riots was now, and Connor was satisfied. He had targeted this particular group of guards for one reason: they bore the Templar emblem, despite the lack of leadership here in the colonies. He knew that the Templars had their Grande master and the rest of their Order in England, and were able to continue their operations unhindered in England, with no assassin influence in the area. Perhaps it was time to travel to the land of his father, and wreak a similar havoc there as he did here in the colonies. All hope was lost for his land that he tried to protect, tried to save from the white man, only to be betrayed, stabbed in the back by the man whom he thought would protect his people. Washington would be dealt with though, soon enough, if he ever decided to call upon him again after Monmouth and Arnold... but these thoughts were clouding his judgment and his focus. He needed to return to the Davenport Homestead. The Aquila was waiting for him there, and he needed an escape.
After ensuring that the dead bodies of the guards he had just killed had been searched and disposed of properly, Connor headed for the nearest pair of horses. He bumped up against a drunkard who was out of his mind, the foul smell of Whiskey and urine about him. Connor paid him no mind as he continued past the drunkard and began preparing the beautiful black stallion he had chosen. He then felt a hand on his shoulder, and the awful smell got extremely strong as Connor twisted the man's wrist off of his shoulder.
"Oi! You can't be doin' that! That's my horse he is! You can't just steal a man's horse when he's lookin' an' eggspegt ter get away widdit! I should call the guard on you! Guards! Over here! I need help!"
Looking at him, completely unamused, Connor pointed over to the pile of bodies lying in the haystack as several arms fell out limply from the edge of the cart.
"Do you mean those guards over there? They cannot hear you in the afterlife- unless you wish to join them? I need to take this horse in order to achieve my objectives, sir, and you are in no shape to brawl over it."
"Okay, okay," the man slurred, furthering Connor's point. "You can 'ave Bobby, keep 'im. I'm sure you'd be a better master for him anyway. He likes apples and loves carrots whudder covered in salt. He's strange at times, but he doesn't hurt no one. Now please, let me go, I promise I won't bother you none more sir."
Connor released the man, and gave him 50£ for his troubles. The man would undoubtedly use it for more whiskey, and maybe a hot meal. He needed a bath badly. Returning to the task at hand, Connor finished loading the saddle bags with his extra weapons he had picked up that day from the general store just before the riot. Among the items he had picked up there were items need by Prudence and Warren, as well as Godfrey and Terry. After securing the saddle, Connor hopped on with practiced ease, and guided Bobby towards the Northern exit of New York.
The ride was short and uneventful. Stopping only twice to remove a wanted poster of himself and to bribe a town crier, Connor was far from nervous as he approached the main gate leading out of New York. Hopping off of Bobby at the checkpoint and explained where he was going. But once again, a fight broke out when one of the guards recognized him from the wanted poster nailed to their door.
As he was alone, Connor jumped off the horse, planting his hidden blades into the faces of two guards, dropping them instantly. Before he could stand, a Hessian guard swung his axe, clipping Connor in the side of his head, and sent him rolling. Recovering quickly Connor swung at the guard with his tomahawk, only to be caught mid-swing, and head-butted. Still disoriented, Connor shook his head, clearing the blurriness from his vision. When this was all over he was going to need see sit down. Returning to the moment at hand, the guard began swinging his axe again, but before he could lift it above his head Connor ducked down and rolled behind the guard, pulling out his duck foot pistol and placed it into the guard's skull, blowing up the man's head like a watermelon crashing on the ground.
This infuriated the last guard, who had been standing off to the side slightly dumbstruck by Connor's audacity. Unsheathing his Sabre, the guard began slashing at Connor relentlessly, oblivious of the horse behind him, who reared up and came crashing down on the man's skull, crushing it completely. Death was immediate, and all that remained was a nasty looking, bloody meat pudding with bits of bone sticking out unceremoniously.
After calming the horse down and giving him an apple, Connor walked the horse outside the gate for about half a mile before taking him to the nearby beach to wash him off and to let him rest. After tying the tired horse to a tree, Connor went off to find himself dinner. He wanted to catch something that would not only satisfy himself for the night, but that would also last him several days as he headed for the Homestead. As night descended, Connor had to rely on his hearing and his eagle vision to track down a larger animal. Hare was good when cooked in a stew, but Connor had no pots or pans with which to cook.
Finally, he spotted a young Stag, probably 4 years old, grazing in a meadow. Climbing into the nearest tree, Connor pulled out his sack of grain and breadcrumbs. Taking out a handful, he threw it out towards the stag. Climbing out closer to him, Connor again threw bait. The stag caught wind of the fresh food and happily trotted over to it, sniffing slightly suspicious of it. After looking around for predators, it decided the food was safe to eat. When it finally reached the first handful of food Connor had thrown out, he dropped down to the ground and caught the stag by the throat, his hidden blade released, stabbing him in the side of the head while crushing the trachea with his bare hand. It was dead before it knew what was going on.
When the blood finally stopped flowing from the head wound he had delivered, Connor grabbed the stag by its hooves, lifting it up behind him, and carried it with each pair of hooves by his shoulders back to the camp, where he skinned it and butchered the beautiful animal, giving thanks to it and to the spirits for the flesh and pelt it gave to him. Finally when he had finished preparing the flesh for the trip home, Connor built a fire pit, and began cooking his dinner. As he ate, Connor smoked about a pound of thin strips of meat for jerky to eat as he traveled through the frontier.
After giving Bobby some grain to eat, Connor set out to find some pine boughs to make his shelter for the night. After about half an hour, Connor had both found enough for both himself and the horse, and had dug a pit for himself to sleep in. He then laid out the blankets and pillow he had with him and put out the fire.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ooooooAC:APBooooooooooooooooooooooooo ooooooooo
Hey guys so slight change of plans on this story. Chapter 3 has been removed and placed in here to make for a longer chapter, and for a better chapter 3. After talking with my girlfriend she suggested I do so, and I did. Don't worry, I will be removing and reporting a new and much better, more exciting chapter, but I may have to break my earlier rule that I set for myself and post a chapter with Nick. ~Ничто не истинно, все дозволено.~