Forums » General Roleplay » Assassin's Creed: The Garden(1x1 with sinspired)

It was night in Pensacola, a city in the Spanish peninsula that had been captured a few months before by the French. The waves crashed onto the beach near the city. Standing just beyond where the waves reached, a hooded figure stood. He was stiller than a statue and wore a forest green robe with a brown hood attached. He had a bow slung across his back, a sword strapped to his hip and four flintlock pistols holstered along his chest.

Suddenly, a loud caw filled the air. The man looked up to see an eagle circling the air far above him. The man stuck out his arm, and the eagle descended, landing on the outstretched limb heavily. Tied to the eagle right talon was a small rolled piece of paper. The man reached up with his free arm and flicked his hand. A small blade slide out from a wooden, box-like device tied to his forearm. The man cut the paper off the eagle, who flew away almost immediately. The man unrolled the paper, and began reading it by the moonlight.

America wasn't half as kind as he had hoped for. The language was hard to learn, and it was almost impossible to find other Italians who wanted to give him the time of day, and even less of the rest of them who would give him a way to make money.
At times, he had to resort to stealing, like this time.
The book he had taken was a little thing, with loose pages in his hands, but he tried what he could. He read out loud, slowly, sounding out the cover. "Ro-bin-sohn. Cru...soe. Va bene."
Wetting his lips, Elias's footsteps sounded so much louder than they really were, wandering along the beach. If a storm hit, he would probably die, but he didn't bother worrying about it. The sand felt comforting under his bare feet. It wasn't home, but it would do.
Dark hair shrouding long lashes, his jaw bones worked nervously at his teeth.
Using his finger to trace along the words, Elias read out loud once more, speaking slowly to try to pronounce English. "I was...b-orn in...the ye-ar...oh, no, numeri, numeri, eh...in the...cit-y of...York, of..."
He stopped himself short.
There was a man there.
A man, who dressed like the uniform he had almost earned.
Under the sleeve of his blouse, he could feel the hidden blade around his wrist clenching tightly.
"Buonasera. Am I...interr...upting you?"

The man turned to face the boy who had arrived seemingly out of nowhere.
"No. You are not interrupting." The man said in a somewhat slow voice, as if English wasn't his first language.
He quickly tucked the note away within his robes and reached up, pulling back his hood. He was far darker than any European, making it quite obvious that he was of native descent. "What is a boy doing out at this time of the night? Are you lost?" He asked cautiously.

Elias stepped back, book snapping shut. His muscles tensed. He had been told there were some who hunted men like him, that some of the men who dressed the way his heritage deemed he should have were not truly who they claimed to be.
Stand strong, he told himself. He had his blade.
Boy.
Even if it wasn't the same language, the word had the same effect on him, drawing an uneasy chill to his skin and ache to his skull.
"I am...reading," he offered, lifting the book. "I am...learning English. I am not a boy. I'm a man. I could ask you the...same ques-tion. Why are you here? On this beach?"
Part of him prayed he was the man that he dressed to be.

"My apologies." The man replied with a small bow of the head. However, he noticed the tensing of Elias's muscles, something he had learned to pick up on through his career. He kept his demeanor calm though, not giving much of a sign that he had noticed. "I was receiving a message..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "...a group of friends."
"But I forget my manners, I am Askuwheteau. Though, you may call me John Tanner if my birth name is too difficult for you." He said, looking slightly amused. "I understand colonists have some difficulty pronouncing the words of my people."

"A...Askuw...h...hete-au. Askuwheteau. That is correct?"
For him, it was close enough. If the man took offense, Elias had met at least another John, and John couldn't be that much harder to pronounce. He would introduce himself later. More important thoughts rushed through his head.
No matter what horrors he had faced, Elias seemed to continuously forget he was a child, still -- of sorts.
The man had mentioned he had friends. Friends, dressed like that.
The words, too excited and too frightened, slipped out of his lips before he could stop them, simply content he had tried to pronounce the man's real name.
"Are you...a Templare? A...A Templar?"

Askuwheteau's eyes narrowed.
"What do you know of the Templars?" He asked, his voice taking on a icy tone. One of his hands reached moved and came to rest in the hilt of his sword. He visibly tensed, like a snake coiling before it stuck.

He had angered the wrong man.
The thought rushed through his head, and the panic rushed his gut like a trainwreck. He'd done wrong. It was going to happen again, the voice in his head screamed.
Black eyes going wide, Elias took a step back, swallowing back the fear in his throat. He urged himself not to tense. Too much tensing, and his hidden blade would spring forward. And if this man was a Templar, then he was certainly going to die.
"You-- You are going to kill me, yes?" He tried, wetting his lips. He knew that they were not to be spoken of, not to strangers especially. "When you do, Templare, you must know, I did not...finish...my training. I am not one of them. Not...entirely."
If he was going to die now, what a shame. What a shame, that he had never really been allowed to truly become what he could have.

"I will not kill you, and I am no Templar." Askuwheteau replied, still regarding Elias coldly. If the boy knew of anything concerning Templar operations in the area, it would be invaluable for his order.
"However, you will tell me of how you came to know of the Templars and everything you know of them." Askuwheteau growled. Otherwise..."
He flexed his wrist and a hidden blade zipped out. It gleamed dangerously in the moonlight "Well, I believe you understand what I imply, yes?"

Was that delight, or fear?
Rushing through his veins, he felt it, cold and warming all at once, perhaps some sick sort of enjoyment that he felt from the adrenaline.
The man was like him, then. The man was like his father. He was an assassino.
Black eyes glimmering, Elias stared up at him.
With a flick of his wrist, his own hidden blade shot out around the loose sleeve of his blouse.
"My father is assassino. I am trained to kill these...Templar. But not completely. My training was not...finished. That...is...what I know. Of the Templar. Happy?"

"You say you are an Assassin?" Askuwheteau asked, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. He was the only Assassin in the area as far as he knew.
Yet, the young man had said he wan't fully an Assassin. The native found this odd. If this boy had been an Assassin-in-training, why was he hear? Either-way, Askuwheteau concluded that the boy was telling the truth.
He closed his hand, causing his blade to retract and closed his arms, eyeing Elias with new interest. "Do you have a mentor nearby?"

He shook his head vigorously.
Why was he being so honest with this stranger? He had enough English to know how to lie. It wasn't difficult. It was the first thing that he had learned to do.
"That...is my father," he tried. "He is dead. In Italy."
His nervous started ticking up his back. Dark eyes glittering up to the sky, Elias's muscles tensed. This man could probably use all the information he was giving him against him. And what if he did? He could kill him. The man was easily more powerful than he was.
Shame, he couldn't help but think. Would dying be so bad?
"I did...not think...there is assassini here."
Did the Assassins know what he had done? Would they pursue him?

"You do not have any sort of mentor?" Askuwheteau asked, giving Elias an incredulous look.
His suspicion returned. What was a brotherhood initiate doing all alone in an area like this? He had a distinct feeling that Elias wasn't letting on the whole truth, and his distrust for the boy grew.
Perhaps he had defected to the Templars, Askuwheteau thought. It was easy for youngsters to be seduced by visions powers that Templars promised to their members.
Askuwheteau knew the boy was armed, but he doubted the child could wield his hidden blades effectively with incomplete training. The Native decided to question the boy further. If he was indeed a traitor, their was only one way to deal with him.
"What are you doing out here with no mentor or training?"

A bubble of anger started in Elias's stomach. Had he not heard him?
Either way, the man didn't seem suspicious of his motives. He didn't seem to know what he had done.
"Mio padre--" Elias pinched the bridge of his nose, a disgusted sigh. What was the English? "My father. He is dead. He was...mio mentore. He taught me." As he spoke, his accent got thicker, hands smacking together the more worked up he got. "He was-- in...casa. The-- the house. It burned. He burned. So I come here. I get on ship, no one knows, si? And I don't think there is assassino or templare here."
Finally, Elias gave a shrug.
"So I hide. I know no one."
Part of him urged to apologize for his poor English, but, he supposed, he had already proved that he was still learning.

Askuwheteau crossed his arms. He was unsure of what course of action he should take. Elias's case was unique. In the event of a mentor dying, usually the initiate would be assigned to another one. However, it seemed Elias hadn't stuck around long enough for this. But why? The Assassins in the land of the Europeans were numerous and well connected, so it's not like this boy and his father were the only two.
However, Askuwheteau was shaken out of his thoughts by the sound of a howl off in the distance. The Assassin tensed immediately. "I have stayed here too long." He said. "It's time for me to leave."

A howl.
Was that sign of the Templars?
Black eyes widening, Elias looked off into the distance, as if he could desperately find the source shortly. He was still an Assassin, whether he liked it or not, no matter what crimes against the organization he had committed.
"Is that them?" He demanded. "W-wait!"
Elias whipped back to face the older man.
The words spilled out of his mouth before he could stop himself.
"You are the only other one I have seen since I have come here. What if I don't see you...tomorrow...or...later? Are there more? More of us? Here?"