quote:

Originally posted by altairego:
Raide, can it be from Malik's viewpoint?

quote:

anyone but Altair

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My name is Khalil. I fought under Saladin to reclaim Jerusalem from the Christians in 1187, and have lived here as a guard since.

I am thirty-two years old, and today is the day that I die.

And I am not the only one. By God, I cannot believe that a man can move with such speed and elegance and strength. How can such a man as he exist who remains a person?

Majd Addin patrols his stage; walking back and forth with a sense of purpose and presence that I cannot help but respect as he puts these sinners to death. Perhaps Jerusalem will finally be clean of the evil men who revel in her streets, when Majd Addin relieves them from their sick bodies for the grace of God.

His speech is impressive; as men go, he is one with skill enough to entice even the most apathetic of individuals. I discovered first hand when I first met him many years ago.

Saladin introduced him to the army as Jerusalem’s regent, should he find himself away and unable to effectively govern his city. Majd Addin approached us and picked out fifty soldiers whom he would assign as his personal guard, should he choose it. I was lucky enough to be among the chosen, and there hasn’t been a day pass by that I have wished I had not.

‘Men loyal to Saladin,’ He says to us. I look back with an almost sinful pride in my heart with a face of stone, ‘you have done a great work for Allah reclaiming the Muslim City of Jerusalem in his name! But there is more than just to take involved in such a feat; we must retain! And you fifty most loyal men I have chosen will be assigned to do so alongside myself, as I act under the great Saladin as regent of his great city.’

We cheered, and we did so gladly, for we knew we were placed beneath a man of such great passion who would bring such glory to God.

The man has a vision, and we all love him for it.

Majd Addin calls out in a furious shock, and I’m torn violently from my reverie to a scene far more gruesome that I could have imagined.
The sinners are alive and breathing as they should not be.

And Majd Addin is on the ground; the blade of an Assassin thrust into his bleeding, gaping neck.

It’s a moment that lasts forever, and from here on my rooftop, I see it all unfold. The coward crouches over him as my fellow guards move in to attack.

The Assassin jumps to his feet, and before I can take another breath, he has sliced and diced his way through my friends.

In seconds, he has climbed up to me, and I see him in the eyes.

His cruel, fanatical eyes.

And suddenly, he grabs me and heaves me earthward.

I hear my neck snap before I die.

quote:

Originally posted by bunnies_creed08:
There it was again. A sound, perhaps just a mouse or something much larger. Before he knew it, a horrible sound reached Saheds nostril. It was everything that was bad and something else. Without even thinking about it, he knew what it was. Death. The word echoed across Saheds brain confusing and dazing him. Then something shuffled forward., a shadow. The hairs on the back of Saheds neck stood on end.

A hunched figure walked forward. His teeth were rotten, his breath stank and the smell of death was stronger around him. “Sahed.” He said. His voice sounded like it was metal scraping on stone.

“What do you want from me?” Sahed said, trying to sound brave, but he knew that he had failed.

“Blood.” The man said, brandishing his dagger skyward and bringing it down on Sahed.

The last thing that Sahed saw was the manical glint in the strangers eye and the last thing he heard was a voice. The voice of his father calling him back to his house.

Malik moved across the rooftops with speed. “Get back here you thief.” The shop owners voice sounded across the top of the roof towards him. The bread in his hand looked delicious. but there wasn’t anytime for it now. He looked behind him to see that behind the shop owner were a bunch of guards.

Swearing violently Malik continued to run., he leapt onto a second roof and continued running without stopping. He ran forward and an idea formed in his mind. He ran forward preparing to jump. In front of him was a roof that had a extension on the top he could turn but that would be too obvious. Malik looked behind him and saw that the owner and guards were a distance they had to turn a corner. Malik ran and dropped, grabbing hold of a section of the wall that protruded from the wall and hung there, not daring to make a sound. The guards ran and leapt the short distance to the second building and turned the corner, as Malik thought they would.

Malik dropped and turned to run in the direction he had come from. He continued to run when a voice came to him from a alleyway. Stopping for a brief second he heard something else. His name he looked up to see his friends standing in a corner. Malik stepped towards them throwing the alleyway a cautious glance., as if to see whether a hand would come and snatch him away and he would never return again.

Malik stepped in to his house and sat down. His mother bustled up to him and fussed over him as usual. His mother studied him under the light that was shining in through the window behind him

“Were you not with your friends today?” She asked him.

“Yes, we just didn’t do anything to extciting.” Malik explained. He drew out the bread that he had been told to buy with some money given to him by her. He had lost the money of course. but he had stolen it and gotten away with it. and nobody had caught him as he was too agile. His friends called him the spider. Which fitted him perfectly. As they ate, his mother and father told them stories of what happened that day.

“I heard that another loaf of bread was stolen from another persons stall.” His father had said sighing and shaking his head. “Useless these merchants. Where are we, the honest people meant to go?”

Malik awoke that night from a dream that had stirred something in his subconcious. The alleyway. He had dreamt that something had approached him from the back. It was settled. Malik was going to go and check it out. He clambered out of his window and climbed to the top of his house.

He knew the town of Damascus well by know and consequently he knew the way to go. He ran across the roofs and dropped next to the alleyway. He put a hand tenderly to the wall, and moved forwards, his heart began to race as he walked. He came to the back of the alley, and put a hand to the back wall. He gave it more pressure than he ought to have, and found himself tumbling forward into the abyss. He landed on soft earth. He looked around. He was in a cave of some sort.

He stood up and walked towards a light. He was standing in a pathway. At the bottom. A man was standing with his back to him. He had an evil sense around him. Was he a templar? There was something in front of the man with his back turned. A dead body, the body of a child who had gone missing three days ago. The man was saying something. It was a ritual. He held up something and turned around. Then there was a small thump. Before he could open his mouth he had twisted and fell. He heard the words “Not dead….” And Malik relaxed. “I hope” There was manical laughing and nothing.