Eagle's Perch
Who: Altaїr
When: Two months and nine days after the events in Assassin's Creed.
Where: Acre, rich district
What: Altaїr lets his thoughts wander as he views from up high the commotion caused by his latest kill.
Altaїr viewed his latest scene of crime from up high. His pursuers dared not follow him to such a precarious perch, high above the city on a ledge barely wide enough for his feet to occupy set on a tower built so tall that the residents below looked like mere ants. That is to say, if his pursuers had been able to keep up with his fancy footwork and follow so far as to even watch him climb the tall tower. But they had not.
Altaїr’s head turned to the side to watch his friend the eagle turn in a lazy circle in the air. His noble friend was probably waiting for the Assassin to relinquish his perch. Altaїr almost smiled, but his head turned downward once more and the expression stopped itself before it could form. The assassination had been practically effortless on the master assassin’s part, and now the guards milled around restlessly as their once-leader lay in a pool of his own blood. The word had gotten out fast, as it always did, and the guard was tripled in a matter of minutes. Altaїr could see the gleam off metal from the weapons and armor of the guards even from his lofty roost.
But Altaїr had no intention of returning to the streets so soon. He would make his traverse back to the Assassin’s Bureau on the rooftops. A safe haven compared to the streets below, the path was still dangerous in its own way. He would have to run and jump and make careful calculations of balance and distance as he scampered quickly across town in this manner. Thankfully the master assassin’s training was so ingrained into his mind he hardly had to think about his actions before performing them with fluid precision.
Still, he would wait a while for things to calm down.
While he waited he watched the guards beneath him scurry about this way and that looking for a killer who was no longer amongst them. One could go so far as to say Altaїr was amused by their pathetic attempts to find him. And the poor peasants? They had no clue as to what was going on. They only knew what they saw with their eyes: that for some currently unknown reason the guardsmen were tripling their forces around the city. Only later would they hear some twisted story as to the reason for this excess. And that would be convoluted to the point of absurdity so that the people still would not quite understand. For the peasants were never to understand as far as they were concerned.
Altaїr shook his head clear of such thoughts. It was pointless to dwell. It was his job to lessen this unjust rule and what he did for that cause was enough. Anything else would have to be done by someone who better understood those workings of such concerns.
At first the Assassin turned his attention to his training. With his eyes lidded in concentration Altaїr first picked one guard out of the crowd then the next, each dying a soundless death as the master assassin killed them stealthily within his mind’s eye. He went through several different scenarios in this manner before tiring of the mental exercise. It seemed more than pointless at this time in his life, when he had so many perfect kills as to almost be ludicrous.
Growing tired of this he let his eyes fall completely shut and teetered precariously on his perch. His eyes snapped open and he regained his balance in an instant. How stupid would it be for the greatest Assassin in all the land to suddenly plummet to his death for simply falling asleep while he waited for the excitement of his latest kill to die down?
With a sigh more mental than physical, Altaїr turned his attention yet elsewhere. His keen eye spotted his faithful friend once again and he turned his head to watch the feathered flyer in his graceful spiral.
For as long as the clan had existed the Assassins had modeled their silent movements on those of the eagle. A deadly, precise, and graceful creature, the eagle was the perfect model for their own actions. And also like the eagle the Assassins usually worked alone or in perfectly synched pairs when on an actual mission of import.
Altaїr personally worked best alone. Or so he thought at least. By himself there was no one there to get in the way of his perfect kill. The only ally Altaїr depended upon were his blades.
Or perhaps the white eagle circling around him this very moment. The eagle was the only companion Altaїr constantly took with him on missions. The eagle was a useful tool in his opinion. He liked having the eagle around to show him the perfect buildings to climb for a bird’s eye view of the various cities he traveled to for his work. Yet there was also another reason Altaїr kept the bird of prey around. Although he would never admit it openly to anyone, Altaїr kept his feathered friend around for moments of weakness. The sight of his companion could quell his doubts, strengthen his resolve, or just remind him of the skill it took to make a flawless kill.
In a moment of reminisce Altaїr called the bird to him. With a cry of his own, the eagle stopped its spiraling and swooped down towards Altaїr’s offered wrist. The bird landed gracefully upon the leather gauntlet protecting the Assassin’s arm and proceeded to keep a watchful eye on the air. Altaїr carefully scratched the eagle’s head as he peered deep into the creature’s golden eye.
Later he came out of his trance-like state and noticed the sun was nearing the horizon’s edge. It was time to leave this safe aerie and return to the human world below. Altaїr said a soft goodbye to his friend and released the bird back into the air.
Then it was time for his own flight to take place. The easiest way to return to the ground was simply to take a leap of faith. Literally.
This Altaїr did. For a moment he took the shape of the eagle which he so respectfully admired-and then he was flipping around to land back first in a large pile of hay. It seemed absurd to jump from so high only to land in a simple bale of hay, yet the Assassins managed to perfect the act to a useful tool. And Altaїr had performed the act so many times he did not even blink anymore.
A few seconds passed, which felt like an eternity to the hidden Assassin, and then he was hopping out of the hay and onto the street as if all were normal. He walked the streets slowly and in the manner of a praying scholar until he found an empty alley. A quick walk up the side of one of the buildings, a leap to the wall across from him, and a latching onto a tiny crack later and Altaїr easily made his way back onto the rooftops. From there he proceeded to make his way to the Assassin’s Bureau.
“I have heard of your success, my brother,” the Rafik called out to Altaїr as the master assassin came into the bureau’s unusual entrance.
Altaїr merely grunted in reply. He was in no mood to chat tonight. Instead he ignored the man behind the counter and made a small nest for himself with the proffered pillows laying on the floor in the side room, left there for exactly that reason. He curled up and quickly fell into a peaceful sleep.
When: Two months and nine days after the events in Assassin's Creed.
Where: Acre, rich district
What: Altaїr lets his thoughts wander as he views from up high the commotion caused by his latest kill.
Altaїr viewed his latest scene of crime from up high. His pursuers dared not follow him to such a precarious perch, high above the city on a ledge barely wide enough for his feet to occupy set on a tower built so tall that the residents below looked like mere ants. That is to say, if his pursuers had been able to keep up with his fancy footwork and follow so far as to even watch him climb the tall tower. But they had not.
Altaїr’s head turned to the side to watch his friend the eagle turn in a lazy circle in the air. His noble friend was probably waiting for the Assassin to relinquish his perch. Altaїr almost smiled, but his head turned downward once more and the expression stopped itself before it could form. The assassination had been practically effortless on the master assassin’s part, and now the guards milled around restlessly as their once-leader lay in a pool of his own blood. The word had gotten out fast, as it always did, and the guard was tripled in a matter of minutes. Altaїr could see the gleam off metal from the weapons and armor of the guards even from his lofty roost.
But Altaїr had no intention of returning to the streets so soon. He would make his traverse back to the Assassin’s Bureau on the rooftops. A safe haven compared to the streets below, the path was still dangerous in its own way. He would have to run and jump and make careful calculations of balance and distance as he scampered quickly across town in this manner. Thankfully the master assassin’s training was so ingrained into his mind he hardly had to think about his actions before performing them with fluid precision.
Still, he would wait a while for things to calm down.
While he waited he watched the guards beneath him scurry about this way and that looking for a killer who was no longer amongst them. One could go so far as to say Altaїr was amused by their pathetic attempts to find him. And the poor peasants? They had no clue as to what was going on. They only knew what they saw with their eyes: that for some currently unknown reason the guardsmen were tripling their forces around the city. Only later would they hear some twisted story as to the reason for this excess. And that would be convoluted to the point of absurdity so that the people still would not quite understand. For the peasants were never to understand as far as they were concerned.
Altaїr shook his head clear of such thoughts. It was pointless to dwell. It was his job to lessen this unjust rule and what he did for that cause was enough. Anything else would have to be done by someone who better understood those workings of such concerns.
At first the Assassin turned his attention to his training. With his eyes lidded in concentration Altaїr first picked one guard out of the crowd then the next, each dying a soundless death as the master assassin killed them stealthily within his mind’s eye. He went through several different scenarios in this manner before tiring of the mental exercise. It seemed more than pointless at this time in his life, when he had so many perfect kills as to almost be ludicrous.
Growing tired of this he let his eyes fall completely shut and teetered precariously on his perch. His eyes snapped open and he regained his balance in an instant. How stupid would it be for the greatest Assassin in all the land to suddenly plummet to his death for simply falling asleep while he waited for the excitement of his latest kill to die down?
With a sigh more mental than physical, Altaїr turned his attention yet elsewhere. His keen eye spotted his faithful friend once again and he turned his head to watch the feathered flyer in his graceful spiral.
For as long as the clan had existed the Assassins had modeled their silent movements on those of the eagle. A deadly, precise, and graceful creature, the eagle was the perfect model for their own actions. And also like the eagle the Assassins usually worked alone or in perfectly synched pairs when on an actual mission of import.
Altaїr personally worked best alone. Or so he thought at least. By himself there was no one there to get in the way of his perfect kill. The only ally Altaїr depended upon were his blades.
Or perhaps the white eagle circling around him this very moment. The eagle was the only companion Altaїr constantly took with him on missions. The eagle was a useful tool in his opinion. He liked having the eagle around to show him the perfect buildings to climb for a bird’s eye view of the various cities he traveled to for his work. Yet there was also another reason Altaїr kept the bird of prey around. Although he would never admit it openly to anyone, Altaїr kept his feathered friend around for moments of weakness. The sight of his companion could quell his doubts, strengthen his resolve, or just remind him of the skill it took to make a flawless kill.
In a moment of reminisce Altaїr called the bird to him. With a cry of his own, the eagle stopped its spiraling and swooped down towards Altaїr’s offered wrist. The bird landed gracefully upon the leather gauntlet protecting the Assassin’s arm and proceeded to keep a watchful eye on the air. Altaїr carefully scratched the eagle’s head as he peered deep into the creature’s golden eye.
Later he came out of his trance-like state and noticed the sun was nearing the horizon’s edge. It was time to leave this safe aerie and return to the human world below. Altaїr said a soft goodbye to his friend and released the bird back into the air.
Then it was time for his own flight to take place. The easiest way to return to the ground was simply to take a leap of faith. Literally.
This Altaїr did. For a moment he took the shape of the eagle which he so respectfully admired-and then he was flipping around to land back first in a large pile of hay. It seemed absurd to jump from so high only to land in a simple bale of hay, yet the Assassins managed to perfect the act to a useful tool. And Altaїr had performed the act so many times he did not even blink anymore.
A few seconds passed, which felt like an eternity to the hidden Assassin, and then he was hopping out of the hay and onto the street as if all were normal. He walked the streets slowly and in the manner of a praying scholar until he found an empty alley. A quick walk up the side of one of the buildings, a leap to the wall across from him, and a latching onto a tiny crack later and Altaїr easily made his way back onto the rooftops. From there he proceeded to make his way to the Assassin’s Bureau.
“I have heard of your success, my brother,” the Rafik called out to Altaїr as the master assassin came into the bureau’s unusual entrance.
Altaїr merely grunted in reply. He was in no mood to chat tonight. Instead he ignored the man behind the counter and made a small nest for himself with the proffered pillows laying on the floor in the side room, left there for exactly that reason. He curled up and quickly fell into a peaceful sleep.