I've become quite depressed… a story I haven't worked on for about a year is getting more views per month than my Dragon Age Origins story.
Please tell me what you think if you get the chance.
October 15, 1994...
"Coming through!"
As one, the students in the halls turned to look towards the source of the yell. Their eyes widened as they saw four Assassins running down the hall. They all crowded the walls of the corridor as the Assassins displayed no signs of stopping.
Altaїr was in front, leading the two white cloaked novices and the grey streaked Talal. A grin was on his face as he ran full tilt down the hall, despite the fact that the corridor ended in another ten meters.
"Uh... Master Altaїr?" asked one of the novices, her voice breathless from running and slightly apprehensive as they drew closer to the windows at the end of the hall.
"A leap of faith, then we can go for dinner," said Altaїr, increasing his speed to propel himself further.
Students out on the grounds looked up in alarm as the sound of shattering glass filled the air. Their gasps were quickly replaced by screams as they witnessed the Assassins plummet from the seventh floor. A fall from that height would kill almost anyone.
Altaїr landed on on knee, his hand bracing himself as he used his magic to quickly remove the momentum he had accumulated during the fall. He landed with a small thump, much like what one would hear if they dropped a small book onto a table from two inches away.
Talal landed with the same grace, though the novices were not as silent. Their landings still needed a bit of work, though they were good enough for their rank.
Altaїr, Talal, and the two novices stood, looking up to find about fifty-odd students staring at them, mouths hanging open in astonishment.
"What?" asked Altaїr, looking back at his companions.
Great Hall...
Alyssandra, Padraig, Jacinta, Talal and Altaїr were sitting at the Gryffindor table, enjoying their evening meal, each chuckling as they saw the two novices falling asleep where they sat.
"Did we ever look that bad after two hours of free-running?" asked Padraig, assuming a thick French accent as he smiled at the two novices.
"You did," said Alyssandra, nudging her lover with her elbow, a smile on her face as he turned with an annoyed expression on his face. All the other Assassins groaned as he opened his mouth.
"Here we go again," muttered Altaїr, rolling his eyes as he ate, already tuning out the Irish Assassin.
"I was sixteen!" shouted Padraig, throwing his arms up in the air in exasperation. "I was barely an Apprentice Assassin!"
"Silence, love," said Alyssandra, placing a finger on his lips, effectively silencing him. She smiled as he focused on her, glaring at her. "You are drawing attention to us."
"I'm sorry," said Padraig, speaking around Alyssandra's finger, a smile forming in his eyes and on his lips. Alyssandra smiled back as she removed her finger from his lips, grasped the leather straps holding his short blade on his back and pulled him into a passionate kiss.
Altaїr sighed in exasperation as the other Assassins assembled around the table let out catcalls and semi-lewd comments. They've been doing this for a few years now… you would think they would stop being idiots.
"Get a room," growled another Assassin as he sat down next to Altaїr, his scarred lips twisted into a half grin. His robes had waving designs in black across his chest, right sleeve and hood, as well as a few lines in Russian across his back. "You two can never keep your hands off each other."
"Safety and peace, Piotr," said Talal, nodding at the giant, heavily scarred Russian Assassin over a forkful of potatoes. "How was patrol in the forest?"
Piotr seemed to glower as he tapped a rune on his bracer, causing it to glow for a few seconds as he unsealed an object from it. He handed it to Talal, who looked at with a raised eyebrow. "How do you think it was?"
Talal twirled the arrow between his fingers, whistling while he recognized the fletching as he spun it like a baton. Centaur fletching always was recognizable as they used horse hair to bind the feathers to the arrow shaft. "Run afoul with the locals, did we?"
"I merely ran through their camp as I was patrolling," said Piotr, raising a goblet to his nose, breathing in the familiar scent of vodka. "Some people have no sense of humor."
"I can tell," Altaїr remarked as he placed his fork on the table without a sound and folded his fingers, watching an approaching figure over top his hands. So… the young Mr. Weasley comes forward once again… "Alyssandra."
"Yes, Altaїr?" said Alyssandra, turning to look at the Master Assassin, breaking off the kiss. Padraig glared at him over her shoulder, a scowl on his lips.
"I believe you have a visitor," he said, jerking his head at the approaching member of the Weasley clan.
Alyssandra nodded, not even looking in his direction as she saw him through her HUD, the live feed from Altaїr giving her the image of her guest.
"Ms. Moonshine?" asked Ron uneasily, standing uneasily behind the dhampir. "Might I have a word?"
As one, the entire bench of Assassins, all of whom had their back to the boy, turned to look at the red head. He took a quick step back, a little scared of being the sudden center of attention, especially in front men and women who were called Assassins.
"What do you wish of me, Ronald Weasley?" asked Alyssandra in her melodic voice.
Ron swallowed nervously before bowing at the waist, surprising most of the Assassins with his actions.
"I wish to apologize," he said, his voice low. "I insulted you and your kind, judging you before I got the chance to know you. Master Altaїr made realize the error of my ways."
Alyssandra looked over her shoulder at the Master Assassin, raising a delicate brow in question. Altaїr merely pointed back to the Weasley, who had started to straighten from his bow.
"I am sorry I insulted you," said Ron, his head still bowed, finding the floor an interesting place to contemplate. He was surprised, however, when a pale hand appeared in his vision and slowly raised his head, making him look directly into the shadows that hid the eyes of the Assassin Vampiress.
"Apology accepted, Ronald Weasley," said the vampire, a smile clearly heard in her voice.
"Thank you, Lady Moonshine," he said, bowing his head once again in respect. When he looked back up, he noticed the other Assassins nodding in approval, most of them surprised he had the guts to talk to a 'scary Dark creature,' as vampires were sometimes called.
As Ron walked off to sit with his friends, Alyssandra turned back to her meal, slowly tilting the goblet of blood in a circle as she stared at the Master Assassin sitting across from her. "You defended my name?"
Altaїr rolled his eyes at the question. "What type of brother would I be if I let everyone slander my sister's name without giving a warning?"
"A poor one, Master Altaїr," said another Assassin, sitting next to Piotr, leaning back on her elbows, tilting her head back to look at Altaїr from the other side of the giant Russian.
"Safety and peace, Catherine," said Altaїr, ducking his head as he suddenly remembered a very important fact: he was due for his annual physical from the head doctor of the Assassin Order, one Warrior Assassin by the name of Catherine Valance.
"I assume you know why I'm here, Master Altaїr?"
"I do indeed, Catherine," he said, an idea forming in his head. I'm going to get ragged on for this one, I just know it, he thought as he looked over at the doctor. "Your place or mine?"
Catherine smiled and laughed sweetly as she stood and skipped along, grabbing Altaїr's sleeve as she passed, dragging the Assassin from the table as she went. "So naughty, Master Altaїr!"
All of the Assassins at the table shook their heads, rubbed their temples or face palmed as the two Assassins disappeared from the Great Hall. It was rare to see a Master Assassin be manhandled like that, especially Altaїr, though it was a well known fact that he had a soft spot for most of his female friends within the Assassin Order.
A fact that was mentioned high, loud and repeatedly when the women compared their current companions to the 'perfect gentleman' that was Altaїr.
"So… who's going to come out of this encounter with fewer clothes, him or her?" asked Padraig, earning a slap upside the head from Alyssandra as the other Assassins placed their bets. Piotr smiled as he took a long drink of his vodka, knowing his friend was in for a wild night.
"Forty ounces on Catherine."
Being one of the boy's teacher gives me great insight into his future, he thought as his bet was matched by several naïve Assassins. He grinned, two words in his head: Too easy…
Masyaf Fortress, Infirmary…
"I see you chose your place," remarked Altaїr, sitting on the bed in the infirmary. It was almost like the hospital wing at Hogwarts, though the infirmary in Masyaf Fortress was much more spacious and had more beds. Fortunately for the pair, there were no Assassins in the infirmary.
Altaїr mentally applauded her decision to come to the infirmary rather than his bedroom/workshop. His work on his staff-sword was progressing slowly, making the room a veritable mess as scrap metal, wooden blocks, and ink-spattered paper covered the floor.
He smiled at the woman standing before him, leaning on one hip with a smile on her lips and lust in her eyes. "Shall we get to it?"
"Oh, yes, we shall," said Catherine, leaning in very close as she started unbuckling the straps holding Altaїr's long knife on his back, her breath hot on his ear. A mewl of pleasure escaped her lips as he pushed back her hood and planted a kiss on her neck, his teeth delicately touching the sensitive skin.
The sound of leather hitting the ground was interspaced with the sound of steel on stone as Catherine undid the straps of his hidden blades and bracers, removing them from his person.
He smiled as she struggled with the ties of his over robe, having already removed her hidden blades, bracers, short blade and her own over robe. All that separated Altaїr from her skin was her shirt, pants, and boots. "You're moving more quickly than usual, my dear Catherine. The last time we were in this situation, I was down to your inner robes by the time you got to my hidden blades."
"Shut up and kiss me," said Catherine, finally loosing the knots that held his Master robe to his body. An instant later, his robe joined the rest of his clothing on the floor, the fabric forming a pool of white cloth.
She sighed in pleasure as one of his hands caressed her back beneath the loose martial-art shirts Assassins wore, his fingers finding all the right spots to relieve all the tension in her lower back.
His other hand undid the ties at her hip, letting the shirt fall open to display a toned stomach and a pair of breasts clad in white silk. Altaїr smiled at Catherine as she straddled him, trying in vain to undo his shirt lacings. "Very nice…"
The sound of cloth ripping filled the air as Catherine tore the under robe in half as she was unable to undo the laces. Altaїr rolled his eyes as his wardrobe was lessened by a single shirt. Maybe I shouldn't use those knots Master Raphael taught me when I meet with Catherine, he thought as he bestowed soft butterfly-like kisses to her chest, tracing her sternum with his lips.
After a few more kisses, Catherine removed herself from Altaїr's lap and walked around the bed, trailing a hand over the hard planes of Altaїr's muscles, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
"Would you remove these tattoos?" asked Catherine as she traced the artwork Altaїr had used to cover his rune array.
Most Assassins didn't bother to hide their rune tattoos, as they looked enough like tribal tattoos in the first place, though Altaїr enjoyed being different, using tattoos to hide the runes.
Also, chicks dig the wings…
"Certainly," said Altaїr, bowing his head for a moment in concentration. Since his tattoos were as magical as his rune system, he was able to shift the tattoos around on his skin as well as change the size of them at will.
Catherine gasped as she watched the wings disappear to reveal bare flesh, no trace remaining of the Assassin runes that had covered Altaїr's back from shoulder to shoulder. "What happened to your runes?"
Confused, Altaїr craned his neck to look at his back over his shoulder. He raised an eyebrow as he failed to find the bold black lines that made up his runes. "I don't know…"
"Did you sustain any injuries to your back recently?" asked Catherine, tracing Altaїr's spine with one finger, mentally reviewing all the runes he had received from the Masters as he progressed through his trainings.
"None. I haven't been injured on a mission or in training in a long time, especially not to such an extent," said Altaїr, bowing his head again in concentration.
Catherine activated her Eagle Vision, eager to watch Altaїr's manipulation of his magic. All wizards glowed under the Eagle Vision, making it easier to differentiate between non-magics. For skilled fighters and duelists, it gave them an edge as the heightened vision allowed them to watch the manipulation of one's own magic and that of their enemy.
For almost all Assassins, their magic is contained within their torso, circulating in one direction for males and the opposite for females. Whenever they used their magic, they were required to direct their energy down their arms or legs.
The rare few, such as Masters Muyassar, Alyssandra, Raphael and Altaїr, were different in their energy flow. Their energy constantly circulated their entire body, allowing them to cast spells with greater ease and speed than 'normal' wizards and witches could as their magic was already in their limbs to start with.
Many referred to those select few as 'oceaners' or 'inner stormers,' seeing as their magic greatly resembled a ocean in a storm, their inner magics flowing randomly in all directions in no discernable pattern.
Amongst the Assassins, only the four had the circulation, even among the other branches of Assassins.
It was rare to be able to watch such a person in a controlled environment as the few who had the predisposition. This was one of the reasons Catherine took an interest in Altaїr right from the start, noting that his magic was different from the other Assassins as soon as he arrived at Masyaf as a one year-old. She had become his personal doctor as he began his training in the Order, allowing her to study his core magic movements almost regularly as he progressed through the ranks.
Altaїr frowned as he found only the random movements of his magic, noting the absence of the tightly controlled pathways the runes made that focused his magic into certain areas of his body when the arrays were active. "Curious…"
"Have you noticed any changes about you since our last session?" asked Catherine, absently retying her shirt as she focused on the business at hand rather than the pleasure they had been experiencing. "Anything you couldn't understand?"
"When I assassinated the Templar Council, I did catch a bullet with my bare hands. I just redid my rune systems a few days before that."
"A normal feat while the rune arrays are active. The runes focus your magic into reinforcing your skin to mimic steel, increasing reaction time too twice that of a normal human, and other such actions," said Catherine, dismissively waving a hand in Altaїr's direction as she paced in front of the Master Assassin. "Easily explainable."
"My rune arrays were not active,"
"What?"
Altaїr sighed as he felt a large headache coming on.
October 25, 1994.
"So… when is Altaїr supposed to be back?" asked Padraig, hanging upside-down by his knees from a torch bracket. "He'd better be here. Talal wants to take on that Ravenclaw team in Quidditch."
"Patience, my love," said Alyssandra, sitting under the torch bracket he was hanging from, sitting Indian style with her hands on her knees. She blinked quickly a few times, her eyes adjusting to the light after having them shut for so long. Meditation helped her extend the amount of time between feedings, allowing her stores of blood to last longer. "An Assassin is never late, nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to."
"Stop quoting Tolkien," said Potr as he leaned against a pillar, watching the pair bicker. "Has anyone seen Master Shadow?"
"Why do you call Master Raphael that?" asked Padraig as he released the torch bracket, flipping quickly in midair to land on his feet. His boots barely made a sound, though Piotr was unsure if that was due to skill or a silencing charm. Padraig's eyes widened comically as he noticed something out of place behind his friend.
"Because I am of the shadows," said an Assassin, his arms folded as he stood just behind the Russian Master.
Piotr jumped at the sight of the famed 'Shadow of Masyaf,' Raphael de la Vega.
Little was known about the man. Everyone wondered where he came from, who trained him, how old he was, and, most importantly, what his face looked like. He had appeared one day, dressed in Assassin robes, already customized in a deep purple, and joined as a Master Assassin. Al Mualim had been very impressed with his abilities, aallowing an unknown entity to walk right in to the Order.
Raphael smiled as he raised his head to smile at Piotr, the black, tribal-looking tattoos on his face shifting mesmerizingly as he did so. "A little jumpy today, aren't we, Piotr? Are we going to need more training?"
Piotr shivered as he remembered what Raphael's version of training was: going into a training room and letting his unfortunate victim flounder around in the dark as the older master hunted him. One particular memory was that of a pair of glowing red eyes watching him from beneath the roots of a fallen tree.
Raphael's tattoos were conduits for his magic, a customized version of runes to makes his eyes glow a crimson hue with enough brightness to pierce the shadows that were beneath every Assassin's hood.
He said it was for the shock and awe factor, making his targets, and students, freak out as the 'eyes of a demon' glared at them.
"But I have not come to mock your amateurish abilities," said Raphael, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture as Piotr opened his mouth to reply. "Has Master Altaїr arrived yet?"
"Nyet," replied Piotr, looking back over his shoulder, out at the grounds of Hogwarts. "We have not seen him."
Raphael smiled.
"Perhaps my entrance was too subtle," said Altaїr, appearing from the shadows behind a suit of armor, chuckling at the startled looks on all the Assassin's faces, sans Master Raphael.
"What? I was trained by the best!"
Raphael let out a short bark of laughter as he strode forward to greet his brother-in-arms. "In time, perhaps you will take my place."
Altaїr smiled as he threw an arm around his former mentor's shoulders. "Perhaps…"
Raphael smirked, his eyes flashing crimson beneath his hood, in amusement. "In a long time… a very long time…"
All the assembled Assassins broke down, their reactions ranging from giggles to full blown laughter, as Altaїr hung his head in exasperation.
"Anyways, Master Talal wants to play those kids from Ravenclaw," said Padraig, walking over with an arm around Alyssandra. "Davies said today was okay for a game, if you're interested."
Altaїr raised his head and shot a look at the Irishman. "You want me to play Seeker again, don't you?"
Quidditch Pitch…
Seven Assassins entered the pitch, their red streaked leader leading the wedge. All smiled as they saw the seven Ravenclaw students standing in the center of the pitch, their blue and gold uniforms flapping slightly in the wind.
"Pitch is dry," said Padraig, giving the turf a kick. "It'll make taking off easier."
"True... Sun's a bit bright, though. Altaїr, be careful not to lose it in the sun," said Alyssandra, absentmindedly swinging the bat she held. Whenever an Assassin saw her playing Quidditch, they winced in sympathy. Her strength as a dhampir was equal to that of a Warrior ranked Assassin whose runes were active.
"I'm going to enjoy this," said Talal, cracking his knuckles in anticipation. Altaїr looked back at him, noting the little shiver Talal always sported when he was excited.
"You always say that," muttered Raphael in a low voice as he tightened the straps of his left bracer.
Talal, having heard Raphael's comment despite the meter and a half between them, said, "I always do."
Ok, another filler chapter. I'm sorry.
Next chapter: the match between Ravenclaw and the Assassins, the arrival of the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, and the Goblet of Fire.
If you have any questions, comments or a random string of profanity you would like to share, hit the review button.