∂εα∂ℓy sнα∂σωs
Nothing is true, everything is permitted.
Welcome to Roma, Italy, late 15th century.
The silent shadow of a figure stood in the dark alleyway, eyes locked on a man walking with the air of importance. A templar. The shadow moved around a turn towards the other end of the alley, watching as the man walked past. A flicker of movement was seen in the darkness of night, enough to unsettle the man, as the streets were mostly empy now. Little did he know, he was caught in a simple yet deadly game of cat and mouse. The man's stride quickened as he hurried to his destination. The shadow climbed atop a stack of crates and quickly scaled the wall of the building towards the rooftop. The man, as now evident in the moonlight, moved silently across the shingles. The target did not look up, as his gaze was focused on the streets. And even if he had looked up, he may have thought the figure on the rooftop to be one of his own archers, though he carried no bow or quiver. Unease shot through the target, and he started running down the next street. The shadow ran across the rooftop without a sound, stalking his prey. "Guards!" The man called from below, hoping to attain help. The templar slowed and drew his sword, stopping to catch his breath. The shadow came to the edge of the roof and then leaped down, a hidden wrist blade unsheathed, and landed on top of the target, plunging it into his neck. "Requiescat in pace," the assassin murmured to the dead noble. The assassin scaled the wall again and disappeared into the night just as a small group of guards came around the corner, spotting the body. The mouse was dead, the cat escaped. The shouts of the guards echoed in Roma.
We work in the dark to serve the light. We are assassins.
For centuries the assassins have been fighting the Templar order. The Brotherhood is broken, and many assassins work alone now, though it is evident that there are others in the city. They go trough their lives, making money off of assassination contracts, even killing a Templar or two when they get the chance. Yet if they are to regain peace in Rome, they must regroup and recreate the Brotherhood, or else the assassins may be no more. Remember, stay your blade from the flesh of the innocent, and hide in plain sight.
Nothing is true, everything is permitted.
Welcome to Roma, Italy, late 15th century.
The silent shadow of a figure stood in the dark alleyway, eyes locked on a man walking with the air of importance. A templar. The shadow moved around a turn towards the other end of the alley, watching as the man walked past. A flicker of movement was seen in the darkness of night, enough to unsettle the man, as the streets were mostly empy now. Little did he know, he was caught in a simple yet deadly game of cat and mouse. The man's stride quickened as he hurried to his destination. The shadow climbed atop a stack of crates and quickly scaled the wall of the building towards the rooftop. The man, as now evident in the moonlight, moved silently across the shingles. The target did not look up, as his gaze was focused on the streets. And even if he had looked up, he may have thought the figure on the rooftop to be one of his own archers, though he carried no bow or quiver. Unease shot through the target, and he started running down the next street. The shadow ran across the rooftop without a sound, stalking his prey. "Guards!" The man called from below, hoping to attain help. The templar slowed and drew his sword, stopping to catch his breath. The shadow came to the edge of the roof and then leaped down, a hidden wrist blade unsheathed, and landed on top of the target, plunging it into his neck. "Requiescat in pace," the assassin murmured to the dead noble. The assassin scaled the wall again and disappeared into the night just as a small group of guards came around the corner, spotting the body. The mouse was dead, the cat escaped. The shouts of the guards echoed in Roma.
We work in the dark to serve the light. We are assassins.
For centuries the assassins have been fighting the Templar order. The Brotherhood is broken, and many assassins work alone now, though it is evident that there are others in the city. They go trough their lives, making money off of assassination contracts, even killing a Templar or two when they get the chance. Yet if they are to regain peace in Rome, they must regroup and recreate the Brotherhood, or else the assassins may be no more. Remember, stay your blade from the flesh of the innocent, and hide in plain sight.
