» video | event - shadows of history «
[ nothing but an empty courtyard in the ruins. it's a deliberate broadcast, belonging to some previously unused Forge.
nothing for a minute.
then, the bright red of his uniform dulled by the fog and evenging light and clanking from the weight of his armor, a giant of a man enters view-- easily six and a half feet, more so with his ornate helmet-- followed closely by a squad of considerably less well armed (but in similar colors) soldiers. he gestures, a sharp flick of the wrist, and barks an order, his heavy Swiss accent cutting through the thick air with difficulty ]
To your stations! The runner will bring the Meuchelmörder to us momentarily.
[ they scatter, grouping themselves in pairs in the empty archways, trios ranged around the courtyard, those with bows climbing a crumbling stair to the top of the courtyard wall. the officer begins to pace, fiddling with something tied to his belt.
and they wait.
they wait until the quiet is broken by a man sprinting pell-mell into the courtyard, collapsing against the wall with rasping breath. ]
H-he is... [ wheeze ] coming.
[ as if the words were a death sentence, one man falls, knife in the throat. describing the brutality is difficult, but suffice it to say that it is...
brutal.
Ezio-- if that's who you can identify him as, since not much is discernible in the dark save his hooded robes and sword-- drops in from somewhere above, knocking two guards to the ground and immediately proceeding to annihilate the rest. He aims for unprotected throats, the tender muscles in the shoulders, throwing dirty blows left and right, and getting none himself. he is a one man killing machine, ruthlessly efficient.
it ends with a standoff between him and the Swiss giant. they circle each other warily, careful footsteps on the slick stone of the courtyard. it-- actually seems like an equal match, in terms of swordplay. the giant laughs, confident that his plan has worked, despite the sacrifice. ]
You've failed, assassin! You seek the Piece at the price of your greatest asset! Your secrecy!
[ Ezio does not falter. instead, he taunts. he gives a provoking "come at me, bro" kind of gesture. and italian taunts are second nature to him, and it is probably this that will be his unfortunate identifying feature ]
Affrettatevi, coglione! Devo incontrare una amica bella!
[ it's the sort of taunt given to pointless rivalries by young noblemen in Firenze, when they've got more important things to do than bother fighting idiots-- and it does the trick. the giant lunges in rage, and Ezio takes that chance. quick as a fox, he's inside the other man's guard, sword flashing as it bites down on the giant's shoulder, in the gap between neck guard and pauldron and the enemy goes down.
not even bothering to catch his breath, Ezio frisks the man briskly and removes a small bundle.
straightening, he beings to unwrap it. it is gold, and spherical, and faintly luminescent. as soon as his ungloved hand touches its surface, it lets loose a sputtering flash of golden light, and the feed cuts out out. ]
(( ooc; yes. ezio found a crapped version of his apple of eden. and yes, if you're demanding enough, he will reply. ))
nothing for a minute.
then, the bright red of his uniform dulled by the fog and evenging light and clanking from the weight of his armor, a giant of a man enters view-- easily six and a half feet, more so with his ornate helmet-- followed closely by a squad of considerably less well armed (but in similar colors) soldiers. he gestures, a sharp flick of the wrist, and barks an order, his heavy Swiss accent cutting through the thick air with difficulty ]
To your stations! The runner will bring the Meuchelmörder to us momentarily.
[ they scatter, grouping themselves in pairs in the empty archways, trios ranged around the courtyard, those with bows climbing a crumbling stair to the top of the courtyard wall. the officer begins to pace, fiddling with something tied to his belt.
and they wait.
they wait until the quiet is broken by a man sprinting pell-mell into the courtyard, collapsing against the wall with rasping breath. ]
H-he is... [ wheeze ] coming.
[ as if the words were a death sentence, one man falls, knife in the throat. describing the brutality is difficult, but suffice it to say that it is...
brutal.
Ezio-- if that's who you can identify him as, since not much is discernible in the dark save his hooded robes and sword-- drops in from somewhere above, knocking two guards to the ground and immediately proceeding to annihilate the rest. He aims for unprotected throats, the tender muscles in the shoulders, throwing dirty blows left and right, and getting none himself. he is a one man killing machine, ruthlessly efficient.
it ends with a standoff between him and the Swiss giant. they circle each other warily, careful footsteps on the slick stone of the courtyard. it-- actually seems like an equal match, in terms of swordplay. the giant laughs, confident that his plan has worked, despite the sacrifice. ]
You've failed, assassin! You seek the Piece at the price of your greatest asset! Your secrecy!
[ Ezio does not falter. instead, he taunts. he gives a provoking "come at me, bro" kind of gesture. and italian taunts are second nature to him, and it is probably this that will be his unfortunate identifying feature ]
Affrettatevi, coglione! Devo incontrare una amica bella!
[ it's the sort of taunt given to pointless rivalries by young noblemen in Firenze, when they've got more important things to do than bother fighting idiots-- and it does the trick. the giant lunges in rage, and Ezio takes that chance. quick as a fox, he's inside the other man's guard, sword flashing as it bites down on the giant's shoulder, in the gap between neck guard and pauldron and the enemy goes down.
not even bothering to catch his breath, Ezio frisks the man briskly and removes a small bundle.
straightening, he beings to unwrap it. it is gold, and spherical, and faintly luminescent. as soon as his ungloved hand touches its surface, it lets loose a sputtering flash of golden light, and the feed cuts out out. ]
(( ooc; yes. ezio found a crapped version of his apple of eden. and yes, if you're demanding enough, he will reply. ))