Divine Wind

Hi guys! So, as mentioned before in my previous post of this introduction, this is my hand in the Assassin world and this, in my opinion, seems a better outcome of all my other versions I have made over the past years. Mind you, this is going to be in 'Ezio Era' as people have vocalized in their own words. Though, in my opinion, it was the better part that Ubisoft was a part of and wish they would find their spark of character in depth story telling instead of these meaningless plot points of the characters reactions of what they would say or what they would do. Have their actions be the actions of that what the character would do and have no other option. If we are to be in the characters shoes, live their life, see it through their eyes, then give us their experiences of what they would do and not a choice of what could have been. Give us the pain of being betrayed by our master being the mastermind of killing his own off and using the brother hood as nothing but a shield against them. Give us the thrill of being there when they make their first initial kill as an Assassin. Let us grieve for their loss and be joyous when they continue to strive in a harsh life because of what they were given in life. But, that is my opinion and in any shape or form, it's only just that.

Sorry about that, but, this story spans over Ezio's story and I believe it should bring others to the table of how, hopefully, others do see him as. Please enjoy and please comment on what you think. I am welcoming any helpful tips or insults if you want. 😊

10

Pain radiating through her right arm as she clutched it, forcing her eyes to look upon her opponent, short and weak in multiple areas, but lucky enough to hit her in the right spot to distract her from her goal. Smoke engulfing her lungs, causing her to cough for air and to let her mind be aware of what happened. Her own weapon smacked out of her other hand as he stood over her. His clumpy, put together uniform that only distinguished him as a lacky to the rest of the solders, having heavy, metal armor shine in the sunlight that peaked through the black fog. Her legs gave a shock of pain as she tried to move them out from underneath him. His bony, covered foot digging into her calf, giving her more reason to kill him.

9

Her ears ringing to the noise of canon fire around her, feeling small shrapnel hit her face and arms. Her nose bleeding from a rock thrown from one of the small solders that had ambushed her. Finding herself cursing silently that she had not seen this coming. She knew all to well, this was going to happen, no matter what she did, it was going to happen.

"Muori, cazzo di Assassino!"

Her ears ringing in perfectly at the last second, catching the side of his pointed blade at her with a leather glove, bringing her knee to his groin, forcing him to tumble to his side as she shoved his own sword through his heart, letting him bleed out and die on the now blackened stained patio brick that she had admired for so long. Rolling on her back, she rocked her body to her feet, grabbing her sword simultaneously, preparing for the next man to try her again.

8

Three surrounded her, shaking with their swords as one lunged for her chest, quickly deciding his advance and moving underneath his arm to cut his wrist and shoulder before spinning to slash his spine, immobilizing him. As he fell, she turned her attention to the other solider, running and screaming, sword hoisted high in the air. She breathed in, letting the world around disappear, focusing on him alone. As she breathed out slowly, she grasped for one of five remaining throwing knives clasped to her right side, tossing it seamlessly into his head, directing herself to the final man as the other fell backwards, groaning from death brought upon him. He threw his sword down and switched to a small dagger, etched with a small engraving. She steadied herself, ready for his attack, seeing his feet move forward then back continuously. She sheathed her sword and brought out her own dagger, leveling the field, for his life was on the line. It was fast, but inevitable. He brought his hand up and prepared to slash down at her, only to be sweeped from underneath, forcing his body to fall, receiving his own dagger shoved into his chest, crushing his ribs and lungs underneath.

7

Gasping for air, choking on his own blood, she waited and watched him struggle against death. Her eyes, grey and showered in dirt, offered no mercy of relief or of any kindness. She was not the angel of kindness today. She merely wished death upon those that refused to die before her now. Sheathing her dagger, she remained still, overshadowing him, her clothes and garments torn in several areas, and she sneered at the man as she waited for him to die. Feeling his fear flow from him to her and she relished it.

"Svanire, formica."

Ebbed from her bloodied lips, giving him a final shove on his dagger, sending his life from his body. She stood over him still, giving her body a moment to flex the pain away and continue her goal. Her ears focused on the shouts that came from the front of the Villa. Innocent villagers screaming echoed to her, forcing her to push her pain and relief away. Placing her hand on her freshly killed man, yanking his dagger from him, admiring the design, she slipped the blade in against her arm, keeping the weapon concealed as she forced her aching legs forward, towards their screams and shouts of pain and fear.

6

She halted as she was deterred by a piece of walk way that had been blasted in her way of the front of the house. Gritting her teeth, she cursed as she gripped one small hole that the damaged boulder took and hoisted herself over. Grunting, she landed without grace as the other side was no longer sturdy or safe. Rising to her feet, she could see that the villagers to her right were running inside of the Villa, wanting sanctuary from the destruction that had fallen upon them. In front of her however, was a sight of battle. Many of the shops and housing were destroyed or standing, with their supports looking like they would give way any minute. Her heart began to cry, none of these people deserved what has happened

5

As she ushered to the steadily growing villagers, she spotted one single person running into the smoke and fire that burned from the battle. One that had made her heart swell with relief but instant regret and sorrow replaced it as she saw him slowly make his way to the broken front gate. As to not leave him to this fate alone, of knowing what would happen, she gathered what other strength she had and rushed after him. Climbing to one of the broken roofs, hoping that it would not fall due her strain of pulling on the many broken wooden planks that now stuck out. Bringing herself to the roof, she watched as he was close now and had to be stopped.

4

One after another, she forced her legs to make each one, fear was now her motivation, fear that he would see what she tried to prevent. Jump after jump. Leap after leap, to get to him in time. As she came closer to him, she was able to now see his figure enough to know he was not well armed and was in a weak state, she froze. Hearing another voice shout over the thunder of gun fire and swords clashing against each other. She knew this voice, all to well, knowing that this voice to her was bringing upon his own death now. Preventing death was always something she could never do and she knew now that he would make the wrong decision and force her hand.

3

She could hear him shouting about his strife and about the secret that they tried to protect from the others. She listened, getting closer and closer to him, trying to visualize his death at her hands and having avoid what she knew could not happen now. As she slowed herself, picking a particular corner, perching herself onto one of the only few intact houses close to the gate, she could now see the man that she wished to kill. Bringing her new dagger out from hiding, she felt a swift kick to her side, gravity forcing her to roll down the tiled roof, only digging her only good hand into one of the tiles to stop her roll. Gathering her senses, she looked to the top, seeing a familiar face, one that she had trusted, loved and endured for all her life. One who was there for her, through it all. She struggled, in disbelief that her own would do this to her. His silver eyes strike her grey ones, daring her to challenge him. She sneered at him, as she dared to, having only hearing her enemy shout out his own death.

2

"Consider this an invitation, from my family, to yours!"

Her anger fled and regret replaced it, while her grip began to fail her more, gravity wanting her to fall more and more. Her eyes darted to the gate, seeing only a few figures before it, one holding a gun to someone she held dear. Before she could even react, she could hear another voice pierce her skull.

"This was meant to happen, Kyla."

1

Bang!

Well, that is my intro and I am curious to know if you approve or not. I'm sure a few of you know where she is, but it's only the beginning and for now, it's what we can call for at least. So, for now, enjoy the intro I have given.

Muori, cazzo di Assassino! = Die, fucking Assassin!

Svanire, formica.= Fade away, ant.