#assassin hunter!shay

[rogue-centric]

Unhinge Your Jaw and Go For the Throat

Cross-posted to AO3

MATURE/EXPLICIT RATING: graphic descriptions of violence, torture, injury, blood, and gore. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.

This is for @especiallyhaytham because they just so happened to post about corrupt!shay while i was cracking my fanfic knuckles, so i pulled this prompt out of the deep, dark corner and dusted it off. It may be just a little dip-my-toes into this AU, but tonight we eat like kings.

"Alternate timeline Shay, where he lets his sense of justice become infected by vengeance? Shay who buries his conscience and gladly becomes the monster everyone expects him to be? Shay giving in to anger instead of realizing his grief, and ending anyone who ever crossed him with cold callousness? Grand Master Cormac (!!) sitting on his bloody throne like a whore, the man he once was long forgotten as he's transformed into the very thing he sold his soul to destroy?"

Summary:

The Brotherhood decided to take a strike at the Templar manifests, and the Grandmaster has no choice but to send out his war dog to rectify this disaster.

Words: 1,801

        Shay's breath is shallow, sounding ragged as it echoes off the rotting wood of the cabin around him. His arms are shaking where they're braced against the table, and dull pain is beginning to bloom across his raw knuckles. Vibrant scarlet covers his hands, and for a moment he's entranced by the look of it under the faint light being filtered through the cracks of this shit-hole. His attention is returned to reality when he hears a low, pained groan behind him. 

        Standing up straight, Shay turns around to face the bound man lying on the ground. His face is lying in a pool of blood collected on the floorboards beneath his bruised and split face. His eyes are nearly swollen shut as he makes a desperate attempt to reposition his beaten body. The man stills when he hears the dull thuds of approaching footfalls.

        Shay crouches down in front of the man, reaching out to take his bloodied face in his hand. The man flinches. "This is your last chance." Shay's voice is low and hoarse, "You can either tell me where your little friend is, or I can take those papers off his corpse."

        The man doesn't say anything, nor does he move. He remains still underneath Shay's looming form. The Templar sits there for a moment, silently counting down in his mind, giving this Assassin a final chance to say something, point him somewhere, but nothing comes. Shay lowers his head, letting out a disappointed sigh.

"Shame." He mutters, standing up.

He looks at the broken Assassin at his feet before drawing his pistol.

BANG.

        The Assassin goes limp on the floor, a dark outline of crimson covering the floor around his body. Shay turns away without a second thought and steps out of the run-down shack. There is a thin layer of snow beginning to blanket the ground outside, and the Templar's breath fogs gently as he lets out a long exhale. 

"Well, that certainly didn't take you long." The chided remark from Master Jack Weeks broke the silence of the landscape.

Shay turned his head to look at Jack, "It's called being efficient." 

"If you consider murdering our only lead efficient." Jack crossed his arms. 

"He wasn't going to talk, anyway. Just another dead end and loose thread that would have caught on something else." Shay said dismissively.

"That's true." Jack hummed, "It just sounded a little more...how should I say it...imaginative this time 'round."

Shay grunted in reply, crouching down to grab a handful of freshly fallen snow to rub across his hands. The fresh blood ran off his fingers to fall onto the ground below him as the snow soothed the burning feeling under his skin.

Jack eyed him cautiously, "So, considering this was our last option, what do you propose we do now? The Grandmaster will want those documents back."

Shay shook his hands out before standing, "Don't look so out of sorts, Master Weeks, we haven't run out of rats to chase just yet."

Jack's eyebrows lifted above the rims of his spectacles, "What's on your mind?" 

"Whoever has those documents can't be far off from their friend over there, and with this fresh snow, we've got all the advantage." Shay said, glancing around at the landscape, "There's a supply cache about a mile north of here. I say we start heading there and see what we can pick up on the way."

Jack considered the other Templar's words, "You're sure they'd go that way?"

"We've got him on the run now. Even us catching this one was nothing more than a misstep." Shay gestured a thumb to the abandoned shack behind them. "Didn't expect us to catch on so fast."

"I do suppose they're not expecting an ex-assassin to be hunting them down, either." Jack smirked.

Shay gave him a wolfish grin, "Exactly."

~~~~

        There is nothing quite like the first snowfall of the winter season. The landscape is always far more quiet than usual, the soft flakes of ice acting as a barrier to stray sounds. The two Templars walk soundlessly through the woods, with nothing more than the beating of their own hearts in their ears. The supply cache Shay knew about wasn't much farther. 

        The snow on the ground was beginning to thicken, and as they continued on their way, small game tracks and prints of bird talons could be seen patterned across the path. Not a hundred yards later, a faint discrepancy in the animal tracks and fallen snow can be found. Shay pauses to examine the track a bit closer and finds the light outline of a boot. They've found the trail.

        Shay begins to follow the tracks with more fervour, he loosely remembered the location of the supply cache, but these footfalls would no doubt reacquaint him with this particular route. A few dozen more yards and the boot prints were more pronounced, but just before they became blatantly visible, they veered off into the brush and foliage along the side of the pathway. 

        Gently moving aside stray branches and drooping pine needles, the pair make their way into the forest. Though the foliage masks much of the trail, there is a clear pathway from where the freshly fallen snow has been recently disturbed. Birds caw in the distance and Shay looks up briefly, straining for any other sounds. They're not far now. 

        A flock of crows erupts from the trees a few dozen yards ahead of them, and Shay's instincts drive him after it. Leaving Jack behind, Shay glides through the trees to the source of the commotion. He approaches a thin area, and across the spindly patch of trees, he spots a figure turning to aim a pistol at him.

        Shay quickly spins to the side as the bullet aimed for his chest ricochets off the bark of the tree beside him. Without a second to lose, he takes off in pursuit of the assassin. Caring not for noise, he bounds through the foliage after the man, and distantly he can hear Jack following some distance behind him. 

        Seeing a thick patch of bramble coming up in front of him, he veers off to the side and his boots connect with the truck of a fallen tree. He follows the trunk up and takes himself into the tree line. He can see the assassin clearly a few yards in front of him, and the sight of his prey fills him with adrenaline. He's almost on top of his target, but the trees are getting thinner and he won't be able to make a killing strike in time. With one last step, he pushes off the branch and sends himself down on top of the assassin, catching the man's legs in his grasp.

        The assassin cries out as the two of them hit the ground with a hard thud. The man kicks out of Shay's grasp and scrambles through the snow manically, clawing to get back on his feet. Shay launches himself forward and wrestles the man back down to the ground, dodging fists as he tries to pin the man down. Shay yells out as he feels the edge of a hidden blade rip through his jacket and dig into his ribs. The assassin's fist connects with Shay's jaw and sends the Templar back enough for the assassin to kick free once more.  

        Almost slipping on the wet snow, the assassin manages to get up on his feet. The man doesn't spare a glance back at Shay as he dashes for the tree line, and almost clears the brush until a sharp, seething pain flares in his leg and sends him back to the ground. The assassin looks down at his leg, finding a bolt wrapped in rope protruding from his thigh. Following the rope, his eyes focus through the blinding pain and see his pursuer holding the other end of it, looking disheveled and bloody. 

        Wrapping the end of the rope around his fist, Shay yanks it back harshly, ripping the bolt from the assassin's leg and spraying blood across the fresh snow. The assassin screams in agony, clutching his leg as the ground under him turns a deep scarlet. The man tries to pull himself away from Shay, but the Templar closes the distance between them and places a heavy foot on top of the assassin's bloodied leg, coaxing another throaty scream from the man. 

"Hand over the documents you stole." Shay demanded, pushing his boot down on the man's leg.

The assassin muffled another cry of pain before glaring up at the Templar, "Va au diable, marcheur des ombres!" he spat. 

"Then I suppose we'll do this the hard way." Shay growled through gritted teeth.

        Shay dropped a knee down on the assassin and connected his fist to the man's cheek. While the assassin was dazed, he ripped open the man's overcoat to search his pockets. He spotted a crumpled corner but as he went to reach for it, he caught the assassin's wrist in his grasp, stopping a hidden blade pointed at his throat.

"Ah, ah." Shay tsked. "Now that just won't do." 

        Shay pinned the man's arm to the ground, pulling his short sword from its sheath and driving the blade through the man's open hand and deep into the ground. The man let out another cry of pain, his hand clenching involuntarily and spurting blood across the ground.

"There. That should keep you still, hm?" Shay looked down at the assassin, who attempted to spit in his face.

Master Weeks appeared beside the other Templar, drawing his pistol and pointing it down at the assassin. "Make another move and I won't hesitate to put a bullet in your head." Jack spat.

        Shay returned to searching through the man's jacket and reaching for the paper he spotted before. Shay pulled out a bundle of parchment, turning the blood-stained paper in his hands to see the broken Templar seal on the underside. Shay looked up to Jack, holding up the bundle for him to see.

"Well, I'll be damned. You were right." Jack said, his spectacles sliding down his nose as he looked at the papers. "We might even make it back before dark. Good work, Master Cormac."

The assassin under him jolted at the name, shooting a look toward Shay and putting the puzzle pieces together. "Dieu ait pitié. You-you're supposed to be dead!"

"As you can see, I'm alive and well." Shay said nonchalantly, tucking the parchment into his own jacket safely. "And unfortunately for you, we can't let you go now. Can't have you going back to the mentor and letting him know I'm alive, can we?"

Fear filled the eyes of the assassin as he looked up at Shay. "Dieu ne t'aura pas, dia-"

BANG.

[teecupangel]

As I near the end of Syndicate, I am reminded about our exchange about Starrick. So here goes: Desmond is not... As "lucky" as he usually is in our post-Temple scenarios. Instead of waking up somewhere discreet, he is thrown, unconscious, somewhere where Lucy Thorne takes notice. And so, Desmond is brought to Starrick's attention. When he wakes up, he is in a nice bed, in refined looking manor. And so begins Starrick's play at being the good guy 1/2

2/2 Desmond is taken care of. His Hidden Blade is not taken away - on the contrary, when he asks about the things that were found with him, Desmond is given them all back. He gets some good medical care. The manor servants are complimentary about their boss. And then - when Desmond eventually starts snooping and venturing out... The information he has waved his way about the Rooks is not complimentary. And so... He slowly starts leaning to Starrick's opinions.

Okay, okay, this works sooo well with our previous idea of how easy would it be for Desmond to be a Templar but before we continue: this is not meant to be Frye twin-bashing. This is more on the side of "when looked from the outside without any ideas of who the Frye twins are and what they're going thru, it's really easy to paint them in a very bad light" and we're going to make use of that.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, it is soooo easy for Starrick to pit Desmond against the Frye twins, especially if we set this after Jacob assassinates Twopenny which later led to inflation and riots.

Maybe Desmond even sees Starrick talking about how he raised the salary of his employees and how he would have supported all of London if he could (again, let’s remember that in canon, Starrick said this to Brudenell alone without any audience presence so this isn’t Starrick trying to get into Desmond’s good sides even if he knew Desmond was snooping around, this is Starrick being Starrick). Without the proper context that Desmond wouldn’t exactly have at the moment, Starrick and Brudenell’s conversation (including Starrick threatening to castrate Brudenell) could be taken as a powerful man chained by politics and selfish politicians.

I mean…

Just read the transcript and see how easy it is for Starrick to pain the Disraeli and even Brudenell in a bad light:

Cardigan: The currency a laughing stock. Inflation out of control! Twopenny brutally murdered! Starrick: And yet, Parliament does nothing! Cardigan: The bill will be defeated, sir. That buffoon Disraeli shall be taken care of. It has been arranged, upon my honor. Starrick: Your honor carries little weight. Cardigan: How dare you, sir?! Starrick: The poor people of this city have suffered enough. Today, I granted a significant rise to my staff in order to counter inflation. Cardigan: What? Starrick: I would supply all of London if I could. Starrick: Meanwhile, you sit in your club and wax poetic with promises your honor cannot pay. Your family's fortune, however... I wonder what they would offer to keep your record out of the newspapers. About the same as Disraeli would offer for your balls, I'd wager. But let's be generous. Why limit ourselves to one or the other, when we can have it all? What say you, sir, shall I come collect? Starrick: No more dallying. The halls of Parliament must be free to govern, again! Understood? You may see yourself out.

And Starrick would be polite to him, wouldn’t pry him of his past. Even Lucy Thorne would be polite (when she was still alive), most probably ordered to.

And then Starrick would ask the question all of the Templars had been curious about.

“Are you, perhaps, a member of House Kenway, Desmond?”

And that’s how Desmond would find out that Starrick and the others thought he was perhaps a descendant of Haytham Kenway or maybe even Jennifer Scott.

“And what if I am?” Desmond asked back, wondering if they would talk about how Ratonhnhaké:ton and his descendants were Assassins.

“We owe a lot to the Kenway family.” Starrick explained calmly, “Even if you…”

Starrick glanced at Desmond’s left arm… no… he had glanced at Desmond’s hidden blade.

“… you do not hold the same ideology as we do, we will still give you the respect a member of House Kenway deserves.”

Desmond watched as Starrick placed a key on the table between them, “This is the only copy we have of the Kenway manor. It is only right that it is returned to a member of the family, wouldn’t you agree?”

Desmond kept his attention on Starrick as he took the key. Starrick sighed as he added, “It is my duty to inform you that it has been… well… it’s not in its best condition right now.”

“A few intruders did not have any manners.” Starrick said vaguely, “And left quite… a trail.”

And what trail did Desmond find in the Kenway mansion?

The trails left by Evie and Jayadeep.

And you might be thinking “What about Lucy Thorne and her goons?”

Well…

It was a stealth mission which meant that there was a high possibility that Evie and Jayadeep kept the body count to a minimum and we have a cutscene confirmation that some of them were wearing Blighters outfit. (although the ones you see in the manor itself had Templar armbands and those are the ones Evie can take down)

… So… what’s to say that Desmond’s tracking wouldn’t lead to a few ex-Blighters now wearing the coat of a Rook?

Jacob’s Rooks do have ex-Blighters in their ranks so it’s possible that some of the Blighters in that cutscene became Rooks later on.

And then…

He is told by one of Starrick’s men how the Assassin Jacob Frye joined the crime boss Maxwell Roth in burning down warehouses that had children inside.

And Desmond realized…

The Assassins here in London must be stopped.

[wyyvernn]

https://www.tumblr.com/wyyvernn/730490424355176448/hello-i-am-so-sorry-if-this-is-random-as-heck-but?source=share

Can we get a headcanon of something like this? Pls with Shay and Vampire Haytham? Pls

A/n: Oooh good taste anon! Slowly building up this vampire au hehe. Also reader is already a vampire and part of the order. I wasn't sure if this was a ship request but there are implications of poly in the post I guess, but otherwise it's mostly Shaytham. I really didn't know what to do with this so sorry if it's bad ahaha 😅

✧･ﾟ: Masterlist :･ﾟ✧

- You didn't know what to make of Shay at first. He was a vampire hunter and one of the Assassins sent to kill off your Grand Master.

- Of course it failed. No one lives to tell the tale when you make an attempt on the Grand Master's life.

- But unexpectedly, Haytham spared him. Curiosity maybe? Potential? Whatever the reason, Shay became a worthy initiate of the Order. Whether it was Haytham's words of manipulation or an understanding on Shay's part, Shay eventually went on to become one of the Order's most efficient members.

- He becomes a welcome addition to the Order very quickly even if he's not inducted straight away or turned into a vampire. His roguish charm and wit are what draws you in, makes for interesting company when boredom strikes.

- Shay is a little wary being constantly surrounded by vampires and when he spots you or Haytham drinking blood, he's disturbed but mostly intrigued. 'What does it taste like?' He thinks. He's tasted blood many times before, a sock to the mouth and red staining his lips. It's like licking the metal of a blade. Maybe it's different for you and the others.

- Eventually when the time finally arrives and Shay has proved his loyalty, Haytham is the one to turn him with you overseeing the change. It's a private matter and one that the Grand Master wants to get over with. But Shay finds it all rather intimate, more than he probably should, and he finds himself leaning into Haytham as the older man buries his fangs in his neck. There's a grunt or two from the younger, and a deep groan from the other as he takes a mouthful before injecting his venom in return. Haytham gets carried away a bit and you can't help but tilt your head when you catch the disappointment on his brow as he pulls away. He never gets carried away.

- When the ceremony is over and you're tugging Shay with you to celebrate, Haytham finds himself gently touching his lips, almost in disbelief...or delight? He wants more. But for the sake of his self-control, he keeps his thoughts pushed away somewhere in the back of his head. He banishes the desires from his mind yet everytime he sees you or Shay, together or not, the cravings return and Haytham becomes a very dangerous man.

[blackflash9]

Whatever happened to the Davenport Homestead?

Eseosa arriving for training at the Davenport Homestead (c.1804) "Once Connor came along, it flourished again for several decades, even surpassing its former glory. Then, it suddenly vanished early in the 19th century. Any manor that can suddenly vanish is both interesting and unsettling in the same measure, though probably not a great investment." - Shaun Hastings, (c. 2012) [Database: Davenport Homestead]

The mystery of the Davenport Homestead remains one of the most perplexing enigmas within the AC universe, primarily due to the myriad factors that could account for its disappearance. A community and establishment like the Homestead doesn't simply vanish without a significant cause. According to the Initiates website, Connor's last recorded activity took place in 1804, when he trained Eseosa, the grandson of Adewale. Given that the Homestead was still in existence then, its disappearance likely occurred after that date.

The factors leading to the Homestead’s decline may also mirror the complicated legacies of its last known guardians, Connor and Shay. Their parallel narratives set the stage for the tumultuous events during the American Civil War. Shay Cormac, as detailed in the "Last Descendants" novelization, eventually returned to America, living long enough to train his descendants as Assassin Hunters. The ending of Rogue hints at a possible future confrontation between Connor and Shay, which could have contributed to the even decline of the (previously named Colonial) American Brotherhood within New York.

Shay's grandson, Cudgel Cormac (c.1863) | Art by: SunsetAgain

This decline is starkly illustrated by the rise of Varius, one of the few Assassins who survived there into the Civil War era, even with Connor—who revitalized the Brotherhood—at the helm. In contemplating their legacies, one might deduce that Connor and Shay forged a truce between the Assassins and Templars that endured for a significant time before their respective deaths. This possibility aligns with Connor’s rare willingness to seek peace with the Templars, a notion few Assassins entertained before him. Shay, while critical of the flawed ideologies of the Brotherhood under Achilles, would have recognized that Connor’s vision surpassed his mentor’s in prioritizing the welfare of people over rigid allegiances.

Both men shared a deep commitment to doing what was right, irrespective of their differing ideologies. Their interactions may have been marked by meaningful debates about the merits and shortcomings of their respective orders, echoing the possibility of cooperative endeavors throughout history. In Unity, we see hints of such interactions, and even William Miles acknowledges the existence of attempted truces between the Assassins and Templars when questioned by Desmond. This raises the question: could Connor and Shay’s alliance have been one of those fleeting moments of cooperation? However, this perspective does not fully explain the Homestead’s disappearance. Other historical events, such as the War of 1812, Tecumseh's Rebellion, and the earliest form of Manifest Destiny, also loom large in this period, potentially influencing the fate of the Brotherhood and its stronghold. It’s plausible that Connor, much like Altair before him, recognized that the Homestead had become a liability—a beacon that exposed them to their enemies. This awareness might have prompted him to relocate the Colonial Brotherhood to various hidden enclaves across America.

As the notion of Manifest Destiny gained traction, different sects of the American Brotherhood likely experienced varying degrees of success, especially after Connor’s passing left them without an influential leader to guide them amidst the resurgence of Templar influence through members such as William Magear "Boss" Tweed, a powerful business tycoon and politician, and Shay’s descendants. Thus, the interwoven fates of Connor, Shay, and the Davenport Homestead present a complex tapestry of alliances, conflicts, and historical forces that shaped the Brotherhood's legacy during a tumultuous period in American history.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Davenport Homestead: An Assassin Fake Out? Other sources, such as from former Ubisoft writer James Nadiger, as well as the fourth illustration of the Assassin's Creed Reflections comic, do give the implication that the entire "disappearance" of the Homestead was supposed to be an orchestrated trick from Connor and the Assassins to throw off the scent of the Templars.

James Nadiger: "Connor would have had his family and friends, and the American Assassins would have played pivotal roles in stuff like the War of 1812. And the idea that the Davenport homestead vanished or that he died alone would all be a fake out to throw the Templars off their scent."

Retcons (?) aside, it’s important to note that the Homestead had still vanished by 2012 when Desmond discovered the precursor key left behind by Connor. This only raises several questions to ponder about: 1.) Why the Fake-Out? – If the Homestead’s disappearance was staged, what prompted the Assassins to resort to such drastic measures? Was it a strategic move to protect a (precursor) key asset?

2.) Impact of Historical Events – How did events like Tecumseh’s Rebellion, the War of 1812, or Manifest Destiny possibly influence the decision to abandon or conceal the Homestead?

3.) Connor’s Legacy – Did Connor anticipate the need to decentralize the Brotherhood, moving away from a single stronghold like the Homestead to ensure its survival? On that note, what the hell even happened to Connor?

4.) Templar Influence – How involved were the Templars in the Homestead’s fate? Did Shay, his descendants, or other Templar factions play a role in its disappearance? If not, why does the sudden move happen, as Shaun implies?

5.) Effectiveness of the Ruse – If the disappearance was a ruse, how effective was it? Did it successfully deceive the Templars, or was it only a temporary measure? --------------------------------------------------------------------------

In conclusion, the mystery of the Davenport Homestead's disappearance leaves us with more questions than answers. Whether its vanishing was part of a strategic ruse by the Assassins or influenced by external historical events, the Homestead’s fate remains a key enigma within Assassin's Creed history. As we explore the possible connections between Connor’s legacy, Templar schemes, and the broader forces of Manifest Destiny, it’s clear that the Homestead’s story is intertwined with the survival and evolution of the American Brotherhood during a pivotal time.

[fromashesweriseuphiddenones]

First Recruit Cast List

Ezio Auditore: currently 41 years old and is a master assassin and soon to be mentor of the Italian Brotherhood. He is also Desmond's ancestor and adoptive father, though the cover story is that Desmond aka Malik is his bastard son.

Maria Auditore: Ezio and Claudia's mother. A stern yet fair woman who views the working class as the true citizens of whatever city she resides in. She lost her husband and two of her three sons twenty four years ago. Maria loves her grandson Malik despite the unorthodox way he was introduced to them.

Claudia Auditore: Ezio's younger sister. Currently 39 years old. She's a hot head and feisty but loving and kind to those she calls family and friends. She can be a pain to her nephew but when it matters she shows Malik that he can always come to her should he need her help.

Desmond Miles: The descendant of Altaïr ibn-La'Ahad, Ezio Auditore, Edward Kenway, Haytham Kenway and Ratonhnhakē:ton. He is Cypher, the savior of Humanity. Yet when he died, he didn't expect to be waking up in 1500 Rome. Meeting Ezio Auditore is the start of his new life

Malik Auditore da Maysf: Ezio's Bastard son, and the cover story to explain Desmond in the past. Sixteen years old and thrilled to have a family. He's proving skilled already. He gets along with most people, expect Machiavelli.

Niccolo Machiavelli: a bad tempered young man currently in charge of the brotherhood. He seems to not like Malik and has said as much. Getting slapped in the process.

Leonardo Da Vinci: Ezio's best friend of twenty four years and a master artist. He's a well known procrastinator but so beloved by the community that it's overlooked. Currently in the care of the Borgia he's forced to make war machines and he is unhappy.

Clay Kazmarek: effectively replacing Sali (sorry he just doesn't sit well with me) Clay is Leonardo's apprentice and secret lover. He also assists Leo like reminding him to eat and sleep.

Update 6/20/2024 1AM:

Shay Patrick Cormac: Somehow this assassin hunter was reborn in 16th century Rome. Malik recruits and trains him in the brotherhood telling him that Lisbon wasn't his fault.

Haytham Edward Kenway: The Templar Grandmaster was reborn in 16th century Rome as well as Shay. Though seeing Ezio as reasonable and compatiant chose to work with the newly minted Mentor.

[sweetcocopowder]

In the White Roses | Shaytham

Synopsis : Shay has been missing for the last couple of days. He is normally by night fall but when he doesn't return, Gist alarms Haytham is his disappearance. While searching, Haytham seems a bit more worried than he should be.

Word Count : 3.7K

Genre : Angst / Hurt

Pairing : Shay Cormac / Haytham Kenway

[Warnings] : Blood, Gore, injured!Shay

The thing is, Haytham had gone to the Morrigan and Fort Arsenal looking for the Hunter. He even went to the Greenwich Tavern in case the man had stopped by there. But the bar keep had not seen Shay since he was in here with the Grandmaster last. Which was a week ago.

Gist had seen him two days ago before Shay had gone off on his own. The Hunter’s disappearances were common enough that no one thought anything of them because the man always came back within night fall to look over his ship. Haytham would say he loved that thing more than anything else in his life sometimes.

When he had not come back the first night, Gist thought it strange. When he hadn’t returned by morning is when he reported it to Haytham. It took the entire day of asking around New York to get a location on where Shay could have gone. It very quickly seemed to Haytham that Shay was good at what he does. Hiding in plain sight.

But as the day dragged on into the second night, Haytham’s worry had grown strong. Gist had gone back to the Morrigan to rally up some of the crew to help search instead of just the two looking around Greenwich. But Haytham’s search took him further out than Greenwich.

It takes him to Lower Manhattan towards the known Assassin Den. This Den has yet to rid of and there have been plans to do so. Shay was going to lead with some other men. But maybe… Haytham hopes not.

But his suspicion grows stronger as he looks upon the Den from the outside. There’s usually some movement, yet all that comes from the Den is silence. The feeling that rises and closes Haytham’s throat is something he hasn’t felt in a long time. Fear? No. That is something he has pushed down with sheer force in his years and he has mastered to control. But it seems every time a situation comes about with Shay, all those years of control of his emotions come undone.

Haytham scales up the side of a two storey building to get a better view of the den. He nearly slips halfway up, his mind somewhere else. He looks over the den and watches for any lanterns or any movement at all. There is still nothing. It’s dead.

A rope from the building travels over to one of the rooves of the den and seems like a better way than climbing all the way down. Haytham seems to stare at it for a second before running across it before he hesitates too long. He isn’t the best at free running as Shay and will most likely never be since the man was trained in the way of the Assassin much longer than Haytham. Running the rope was a gamble and he nearly looses his balance three quarters way across. The rope wasn’t as tight and firm as it looked when he started. His heart his beating wildly in his chest by the time he gets across.

Haytham investigates the den carefully after he settles himself. What he finds is what he suspected.

Bodies line the court of the den and inside of each building. The first smell of decay is strong and mostly all of the bodies are starting to bloat. Haytham stops in front of one and has to cover his mouth and nose with his cape. The body lies face up with half of his face beaten and bloody. There are multiple slashes across his chest and stomach. The blood is dried and almost black in the darkness, the whites of his eyes stark.

As caring and gentle as Shay can be, seeing this truly puts him in another light. This blood bath shows the anger and his true frustration inside of him towards the Creed. That what he has gone through still holds on with its teeth and claws, reminding Shay of what he’s done. What the Creed caused. They created their own worst enemy that has the right amount of motivation to be their undoing. It’s almost ironic. But also brings a curiosity to Haytham on who Shay was before the incident. He knows about Lisbon but he doesn’t know if Shay knows that.

Haytham moves on.

The rest of the den is the same. It’s been cleared out entirely. But then where is Shay? If he cleared it out then he should have returned after wards. Haytham uses his vision and looks around to see if he missed anything. Nothing glows brightly to him, not even the bodies that are a slumbering grey against the blue world.

Until a shimmer of red catches his attention to his left. Split reaction at the colour, he flicks his blade out fully expecting an Assassin to jump out from behind the building. The small streak of red doesn’t move but it flickers and ebbs in Haytham’s vision. He moves closer towards it, the streak of red becoming noticeable as a handprint on the side of the building wall. A smeared handprint that leads to a trail of blood on the brick floor. A heavy trail.

Haytham’s eyes strain from the vision and he has to blink away, rubbing his face. He picks up a nearby lantern and uses it to light his way. Who ever is at the end of this blood trail is still alive, there’s no other reason for it to be attracting his vision like that. He just hopes it’s the man he’s been looking for tonight.

The fat drops of blood on the ground are easy to follow. They lead out of the den and onto the side street that runs along the back of the Den. Haytham flickers in and out of his vision when he loses it, not wanting to take a turn down the wrong way. The red trail leads down an ally way drastically at one point. Haytham follows, noticing another bloody hand print on the building as he passes. Whoever this is, is badly injured.

The trail stops behind a small court behind some resident buildings. There’s clothes lines in the middle of the area and white rose bushes lining the back of the buildings. It’s hard to see in the dark but the roses seem to glow in the moon light. Even the petals of the ones that are speckled with red. His heart beats dramatically in his chest at the sight of it. Slowly, Haytham moves towards those ones, bringing his lantern in front of him. His body is tense as he stands in front of the bush. Slowly, and gently, he pushes aside one of the broken branches and looks inside. If Haytham wasn’t trained by his father when he was young, he would be dead right now. If he was a little slower, his neck would be open and turning these roses fully red below him. But the hidden blade misses his skin by an inch as it slashes out at him in defense.

In the rose bush, lies Shay Cormac.

In the yellow light of the lantern the slick of blood can be seen over his black coat. Like the dead man Haytham saw, half of Shay’s face is covered in blood, bleeding from a head wound that is obviously causing his delirium. He now breathes heavily, the movement twisting his body in a way that must hurt to whatever injury he has.

“Shay,” Haytham speaks firmly and loudly. All so that the man below him knows who is speaking to him. Hoping that his voice breaks through the haze.

And it seems to. Shay’s one good eye peers up at him but it is as if he is not seeing. His body seems to relax a bit though, knowing he isn’t in danger anymore.

Haytham bites back an edge in his chest he doesn’t recognize. He pushes it down as he holds his hand out to Shay, wondering if the man will take it. Shay looks at it and goes to take it. But as if exhaustion and blood lost have finally taken a toll, his eye roll into the back of his head and he passes out.

With a curse, Haytham drops the lantern next to him and breaks away at the bush so that he can get to Shay. He picks Shay up with a huff and a loud grunt, swinging the entire dead weight of a six-foot-tall man over his shoulder. He heaves and strains, but he stands firmly. Haytham begins the slow and long walk back to Fort Arsenal with the warm feeling of blood soaking through his clothing.

It is late in the night by the time Haytham gets back to Fort Arsenal. Gist is already rushing out of the manor before Haytham crosses the front gate.

“What happened!?” The first mate calls out.

Gist helps Shay off of the Grandmaster’s shoulders and they both heave the man inside, holding onto an arm each. Shay tries to catch his feet under him but he trips and staggers, making the trip a little difficult.

“Were I followed?” Shay mumbles out, his accent blurring his words together.

Haytham only just catches the words said.

“No. You weren’t Shay. You did good,” he responds, hoping to lesson the man’s worries.

The answer satisfies Shay as he seems to pass out again, causing both men to nearly fall inwards at the sudden extra weight. Under all his gear must be just muscle and stone because there is no way one man his size can be this heavy.

They get Shay inside where Gist calls out for the maids of the manor. They come running, instructing them both to lie him down on his bed. Gist worries about the blood but the maids do not care at this given moment. A groan escapes Shay���s mouth as he’s laid down.

“I’ll go fetch the doctor,” the youngest maid inquires before leaving the room.

The other one, an elderly woman in her late fifties by Haytham’s guess, begins taking off Shay’s clothes. There are too many straps and too many layers for her liking to get to what is making Shay lose so much blood. She ends up cutting off most of the straps and cutting into his shirt with a pocket knife she pulled from god knows where.

“Mr Gist, can you get me a bucket of water with a cloth,” the maid calls back without taking her attention off of Shay.

Gist is gone before Haytham can blink. Shay had only become a Templar in the past month but has been working with them for the on going year. In such a small amount of time he has full loyalty from his crew and his house maids. It’s not a common thing to see in such a place a New York. Something that Haytham never grew up with. The maids and the hands served him because he’s a Kenway. The Templars look up to him because he is a Grandmaster and from where he comes from. All because of status, not for who he is.

Shay. Shay came from the enemy and the street. One should sneer and spit when they learn of his past. Yet, everyone around him respects him for the stuff he had done. Even Haytham must admit that before he met Shay at the ceremony he had heard of stories from Monro and Gist about the former assassin. He had expected a man that would give some sort of sympathy towards the assassins and want the best way possible to make them see their wrongs.

But the man he met was not that. He met a hunter. A man with a cause for revenge. One that hides his true anger and intentions but will not lie when asked. Lies is what caused him to see the wrongs within the assassins which made a truthful man. A stronger man.

Hence why, Haytham realizes, that Shay hid away instead of coming straight back to Fort Arsenal. All because he thought that someone would follow the trail of blood like Haytham did. To protect the Templars and the others inside.

Gist comes back with the bucket of water and plants it down next to the bed. The maid opens up Shay’s bloody shirt to show the black blood slicked skin. Haytham doesn’t know what he’s looking at. He doesn’t know when the injury starts of ends. The maid tries to clean away the blood but only more welts up and spills over. Haytham realizes he doesn’t know what he’s looking at. He doesn’t know where its just blood or its flesh.

Haytham stands frozen as he watches the maid try to cover the wound back up to stop the bleeding. All until the doctor gets here. Gist even snaps into action, helping the maid and getting his hands dirty. Haytham on the other hand, he has seen plenty of guts and gore his entire life. Killed men. Cut them up from hip to throat and then slit their jugular for good measure. Yet the thought of that being Shay stirs something in his gut.

He’s broken from his thoughts as Shay hisses loudly. He tries to pry Gist off of him, but Haytham quickly comes forward and grabs the man’s hands away. Shay wrenches one of his hands free from Haytham but doesn’t proceed to reach out. His brows are furrowed and his nose scrunches. The smell of blood is off putting it must be getting to Shay as well.

Shay’s free, shaky hand comes up to his face and he tries to wipe away the blood from his eye. But he doesn’t succeed, all he does is smear it over his face. At the struggle, Haytham brings out his napkin from the inside of his coat. He hits Shay’s hand away before wiping away the blood from his eye. When Haytham is satisfied, brown eyes stare up at him calmly.

Before anything else stupid happens, Haytham is pushed roughly away by the doctor. He slams his briefcase at the side of the bed and begins ordering the maids around, even Gist. Shay’s first mate is sent off to grab another pale of water and the maids are to stay and help hold the injured down if needed. The doctor looks to Haytham with a furrowed expression.

“Come and help hold him down,” he orders.

In any other circumstance, Haytham would have snapped. But he moves forward again to hold onto Shay’s shoulders. Gist comes back with the pale of clean water and slams it down next to the bed. The doctor begins cleaning Shay’s wound and Haytham watches the hunter go from dazed to conscious within a second.

The doctor works quick but carefully to clean away all the old blood and to see what truly is underneath all the gore. Things start become clear and Haytham is able to depict what is what. There’s a gun shot wound in Shay’s right side that weeps red and a slash from a sword across his chest that seems to have healed badly over the past couple of days. A wave of nausea sweeps over Haytham that he has to quickly get under control.

Haytham doesn’t know much but he does know in his experience that the sword wound is going to have to be reopened and cleaned. But the doctor isn’t worried about it right now. The gunshot wound is the main priority. The doctor moves Shay over so he can look at the man’s back.

There’s no exit wound. The bullet is still inside of him. Shay lets out a breathy chuckle as if the situation is funny. But before Haytham can snap at him, his brown eyes become hazy again.

“I can’t put him under,” the doctor suddenly says. “There’s a risk he won’t wake up if we do.”

Haytham understands. “Gist, help the ladies hold his legs down. I’ll hold his shoulders dow-“

“I’ve seen men throw men like yourself off, sir,” the doctor cuts him off. “I suggest you wrangle him to hold his arms in place.”

Haytham hesitates, but moves when Shay lets out a ragged groan as he’s let back down on the bed by the doctor. He takes off his coat and hat, setting it off to the side before he sits on the edge of the bed and moves Shay into his lap. Haytham wraps one arm around Shay’s chest, being careful of the wound, while the other hand is holding onto one of his arms.

“I’m going to work quickly, but this is going to be painful,” the doctor instructs. “There’s healed tissue I’m going to have to cut open to get to the bullet.”

“Get on with it,” Haytham snaps through gritted teeth.

The doctor washes his hands in the second pale of water before putting on gloves. He rummages around his case and comes out with a thick piece of leather. For a split second, Haytham is confused until the leather is placed roughly into Shay’s mouth. It just rests in his mouth right now but soon, he’s going to be biting down on that thing hard enough that one could lose a finger or two.

The doctor goes back into his case and bring out a pair of surgical scissors and tongs. With a cloth in his other hand, he wipes away the fresh blood from gun shot before getting to work. He digs the tongs in to open the wound and Shay instantly reacts, biting down into the leather.

His body tenses and his brown eyes become black with how big his pupils dilate. But it’s when the doctor starts cutting away at healed tissue that Shay flails and shouts past the gag. Gist and the two maids manage to hold his legs from kicking about but Haytham’s hold nearly slips.

The one arm that can’t be held down comes around and grabs onto the arm that’s across his chest. He tries to pry Haytham off of him and he nearly succeeds. He guesses having to hold and steer a ship nearly every week along with climbing buildings and scaffolding does render this type of strength. But Haytham holds tight, almost choking the man.

If Shay had come home straight away and not let his wounds heal, this would go ten times smoother. But he had chosen to stay hidden away in case any one had followed him. Stupid, but smart.

Shay’s body arches off the bed but he can’t go anywhere further since four people are holding him down. A choked cry escapes his throat as the doctor digs in deeper. It’s a sound that Haytham wishes he could cover his ears for. But as the doctor cuts more away and burrows for the bullet, the more Shay bites down on the gag and his body shakes from the pain that has a grip on his body and mind.

“It’s nearly done,” Haytham says, trying to get the man under him to calm down some.

In truth, Haytham has no clue if the doc has found the bullet. Or is anywhere near done. He just needs Shay to calm down so that this can be over quicker. But it’s Shay Cormac he’s currently talking about. And he will go down fighting.

As if on que as well, all Gist is able to get out before Shay frees a foot and kicks him square in the jaw is a small plea. Gist falls to the ground heavily like a sack of potatoes. The doctor has to take the tongs out of Shay as he thrashes about again. The maids gasp but are on it quickly afterwards, the eldest grabbing onto the free leg and holding it down. A groan from the first mate is all Haytham gets to say that he’s okay.

“Hold him still,” the doc snaps.

“They’re trying their best,” Haytham seethes.

He will not have some man snap at Shay’s employees. The doc doesn’t pay him any mind though as he starts fishing for the bullet once more. Shay’s entire body goes stiff once more as the whole process begins again. Tears now flow down his face as he squeezes his eyes shut.

“Gotcha,” is all the doctor says as he carefully picks the bullet from Shay.

He drops the bullet on the bed and a calm comes over Shay almost. The worst of it has past, but there is still pain to endure. Haytham pats Shay’s arm, trying to assure the man. But the doctor doesn’t finish his work until an hour later. Having to stitch up and also wait out Shay fighting them in his daze.

Unfortunately, the man did not pass out at any given time due to the pain. Shay had stayed awake the entire way through. Haytham had hoped he would pass out halfway through. But for some reason he wanted to stay conscious.

-

The doctor pats his hand son his thighs before standing up. Without a word, he begins cleaning up and shoving stuff into his briefcase.

Shay’s waist and chest are fully bandaged, and he’s been put back together. Haytham has let go of him, but his head still lays in his lap. He should move. He should be leaving now knowing that Shay will be alright. His maids will look after him.

“I’ll be back in the morning to check up on him,” the doctor gruffly.

Gist, who is now conscious and has been looked over already, grunts and shows the doctor out. He’s a little off on his feet, having been a little concussed by the kick he received. But the doc said he’ll be fine. The maids leave as well, following them out with the pales of water in hand.

That leaves Haytham alone in the room with Shay in his lap. A hand comes and rests itself onto Shay’s hot forehead. Finally, those brown eyes close shut. It finally feels like Haytham can rest as well. His own body aches from having to hold Shay for so long and he doesn't realize how tired he had become until now.

“You stubborn fool,” Haytham mumbles.

The smallest smile comes to Shay’s lips. But it’s only now that he can rest, knowing he is safe and sound. And yet Haytham doesn’t move, finding himself not wanting to go in case something happens for the rest of the night. With that thought, Haytham stays up for the rest of the night, listening to Shay breathe hoarsely but strongly. That’s all Haytham needs to know that everything is alright.

[ulfrsmal]

MY MAN MY MAN share your blorbos that makes you go My Man!

I was tagged by @alexagirlie, thank you! Alas I can only do a bullet point list because most of my current ones do not have gifs 😭 oh the life of a book blorbo haver

Shay Cormac (Assassin's Creed Rogue)

Fiddler | Strings (Malazan Book of the Fallen)

Cotillion (Malazan Book of the Fallen)

Alexander of Persia (Guild Hunter Series)

Uhtred of Bebbanburg (The Last Kingdom)

in a rush so not tagging anyone but you reading this, feel free to do it tagged by me if it strikes your fancy!

[tiredassmage]

dot’s oc masterpost

By popular demand!! Reorganized to give you just the basics here, you can visit my individual character pages on the desktop view of Tumblr for a more in-depth view of what I’ve individually developed for them! Or feel free to browse their linked tags below!

Asks and whatnot are always open about any of my beloved gremlins! I’m also definitely opening to playing around with verses/storylines with others if you want to chuck them into a playpen together and see what happens, lol. What is included on their profiles, for the sake of my sanity, is their main version of events and any relevant alternate universes/editions of events I have developed for them solo/based on game events.

Listing below the cut because I have too many blorbo. >.>

STAR WARS: THE OLD REPUBLIC

Main Crew - Imperial

TYR DECKARD ;; Cipher Nine / Imperial Agent. Saboteur. Blorboly beloved. Tagged ch: tyr ;; character page

SAVOSTA ;; Formerly the Empire’s Wrath / Sith Warrior. Alliance Co-Commander alongside Rhystyl Delavast. Emotionally struggling blueberry son. Tagged ch: savosta ;; character page

LENSAN RYALDAR ;; Grand Champion / Bounty Hunter. All around jackass pretty boy. Tagged ch: lensan ;; character page

OLTIYO KALLIG ;; Darth Nox / Sith Inquisitor. Heiress of rebellion and haver of class but also violence. Tagged ch: oltiyo ;; character page

HELEDA LOSWYND ;; Shared Legacy Empire’s Wrath / Sith Warrior. Beast tamer. Tagged ch: heleda

Alternatives / Background - Imperial

NIKIHLUS DARKMOUNT ;; Ex-Cipher, “Snakebite” / Imperial Agent. Freelance underworld assassin & enforcer. Tagged: ch nikihlus ;; character page

ALUCREN ELLERY ;; Cipher Eleven / Imperial Agent. Former delegate of Imperial Ministry of Propaganda turned field operative. Tagged: ch: alucren

Main Crew - Republic

RHYSTYL DELAVAST ;; The Hero of Tython / Jedi Knight. Alliance Co-Commander alongside Savosta. Tagged: ch: rhystyl ;; character page

SATIA LERANN ;; Barsen’thor of the Jedi Order / Jedi Consular. Dedicated, studious, playful teacher. Tagged ch: satia

CALISTE “CEE” NIGHTSPAN ;; The Voidhound / Smuggler. Republic privateer - gold heart, spunky words. Tagged ch: cee, vs: king and lionheart

OLIVER DAXTON ;; Defected Cipher turned SIS operative / Smuggler. AU for Tyr Deckard. Tagged vs: king and lionheart

LEO ASHOLD ;; Shared Legacy Voidhound / Smuggler. Ex-Imperial medic turned Republic smuggler. Tagged ch: leo ashold

Alternatives / Background - Republic

BARRETH MAUDE ;; Jedi Diplomat / Jedi Consular. The gentle firecracker. Tagged ch: barreth

MALTAF ORATHUSE ;; Jedi Shadow & Battlemaster of the Order / Jedi Knight. Mentor to Rhystyl Delavast. Tagged: ch: maltaf ;; character page

ASTSERSES ;; Barsen’thor of the Jedi Order / Jedi Consular. Healer with his heart on his sleeve. Tagged ch: astserses

FINAL FANTASY XIV

Main Cast

ASTOR CAULFIELD ;; Main. Sage. Midlander Hyur. Tagged ch: astor caulfield ;; character page

SHAY DELACROIX ;; Dark Knight & Reaper. Wildwood Elezen. Tagged ch: shay delacroix ;; character page

Additional Cast

BAS SILVERBLADE ;; Reaper & Samurai. Veena Viera. Tagged ch: bas silverblade ;; character page

CINAED DOYLE ;; Red Mage. Wildwood Elezen. Tagged ch: cinaed doyle

[darka-art]

Kabal of the Blood Diamonds- Act ch1

The Kabal of blood Diamond : Act 1

The Gladiator from DownWegg.

-----

Note: Plz note that I havn't planed to publish the full story, but I plan to write at last 3-5 chapter. If people seems interested enought, I may end up continuting at last the full arc.

The Kabal of blood Diamond : Act 1

The Gladiator from DownWegg.

•⁚⁛PLZ BEWARE : The fic contains gore, killing in very crude way, swore and sexuall theme. It is not a lecture for younger viewer and I recommend that you perhaps should read something els if these theme make you uncomfortable.⁛ ⁚ •

-----

The loft that had been given to the Scourge and her team was pathetically colored. The ceiling was relatively low, and none of the furniture were made of human leather, but of dark metal. Although luxurious, the apartment was too dated. Shame in Cormmorragh. 

But oh well. El-Shay would go with it. And at least each member of her team had their own apartment, except Veex who insisted on staying in a room full of computers and strange devices that she didn't really understand. 

Evra and her husband Haemonculi, Berbeduale, had built a little corner near the Torture wing. As usual, Berbedual was well organized and had already installed his surgical instruments in the room. 

Savyle was a slightly messier young assassin. No sooner had she settled into the room near Veex that she had already transformed the place into a barracks filled with weapons and armor that covered the floor. She was a somewhat chaotic young woman, but she shouldn't be underestimated.

And El-Shay was there, in the big room far back, where even those big windows seemed closed away from the rest of the world. 

It was perfect like that. She liked to have a quiet room away from the others where she could watch them. She had been Arkon of the prestigious Blood Diamond Kabal for years. She knew very well that anyone could become… Jealous. 

However this time the jealousy came from outside. Indeed, dozens of her precious cargo ships that made the glory of her Kabal had been attacked or simply disappeared overnight, and it had started to titillate the Scourge’s business. 

After an investigation led by his right hand, Evra, the face of the prime suspect had finally come to light: Evisive Lekk. An arena master renowned for his gladiator slaves and lavish parties that entertained the great Elites of the Dark city. 

And that's where she was. 

In a building attached to the home of this great arena master, quietly setting up this little spy mission with his 4 henchmen on the bus quietly showing this bastard that he shouldn't have attacked the Kabal blood diamonds. The Scourge was so close to its prey.

On the other hand, she still had to be patient: Murdering such a popular Noble would have to require a lot of discretion so as not to attract too much attention. Commorragh was merciless. 

Before she could gut that idiot, she had to wait a bit and used a lot of manipulation skills. 

But it was fine. 

She was very good at playing blood chess. 

Suddenly, someone knocked on her bedroom door, snapping her out of her conspiratorial thoughts. 

"It's Evra, may I come in ma'am?" I have heard from our contact.” 

Oh. That, she hoped, was good news.

 " Yes. The Scourge replied. 

Evra entered with her beautiful pale blue hair. His long bat wings were still quite straight. Her round porcelain face still gave her an innocent look, but El-Shay knew her too well to let that fool her. 

Evra was patient and smart. That's why she made the Scourge her right hand. 

The blue-haired Scourge walked over to her mistress and sat down on a chair she had provided for her. 

"Lerro arrived a little early and therefore decided to go and have fun in a bar with two or three newly acquired slaves..." 

And shit. This Reaver was an excellent hunter of information, but he could never help wasting his time in glasses and blade competitions. 

The Arkon sighed and clenched her iron claws.

Her black wings had tensed. 

“I am surrounded by fools. When's that paunchy idiot bringing his butt here? » 

Eve sighed. " Tomorrow morning. If you want my opinion, maybe around noon if he doesn't have too many injuries. And I have a very bad feeling about all this." 

She always shay that, but this time, El-shay shared her feelings.

El-Shay got up fiercely from his chair to serve a drink on one of the cabinets in front of his bed. She opened a bottle filled with red liquid then filled her glass. 

"If he doesn't hurry up, I'm the one who will hurt him. She said, drinking the red liquid in her glass.

___________

Lerro had just finished half his bottle. He already didn't remember when he walked into that bar. The smell of narcotics didn't help. He just remembered that he had sold one of his slaves. It was... What was it called, the all blue? Ah! Yes, a T'au. This one had allowed him to enter this chic little club. 

Small was maybe a little weak as words: In the background there stood three Reaver who had fun ripping off a human's finger with a knife, in the center a player was playing his instrument made of human organ and Eldar and at the bar, of the Succubi spoke of their murderous exploit on civilians whom they had killed while they slept. 

His last slave was a young human also with him at the counter. He was shaking. 

The pale, thin face turned towards his master. He looked at him with his big brown eyes which were already beginning to lose their colors. 

The human was terrified. Lerro turned his eyes slightly toward his slaves. He smirked.

 "And why would I do that, Mon-kheig?" he said in an amused tone. 

"Please... I have two children waiting for me... Please, I'm afraid for them and..." 

"Oh, but it's true that it's all very sad." he said, slowly approaching the chained human. 

"...too bad I don't give a fuck." 

He took the bottle and smashed it in his slave's face. This one fell on the ground and this mis wept. The Blood Diamond spy couldn't help but laugh a good laugh. 

The Waitress didn't seem to have so much fun. 

“I hope you will pay for the bottle. By the way, you still haven't paid for the two bottles... I have an idea: pay now as well as the bottle you just broke, and you can order a new bottle. » 

"Oh LADY, give another bottle for an old mercenary..." 

She held up a bottle. She shook it like a toy you shake in front of a baby. He raised a hand to grab the bottle, but the waitress lifted it higher so he couldn't reach it. 

She looked at him with a big smile on her lips. 

“He, he, he, pay first!” She said with a wavering voice. 

Lerro looked at her darkly. Nobody had the right to make fun of him like that. 

He stood up looking her straight in the eyes. 

He took the chair where his slave was sitting. Lerro tried to hit the waitress with it, but she dodged the chair which instead hit the back of one of the Succubi. The victim of the chair fell to the ground and her friends were obviously unhappy that their discussions were uninterrupted. 

They threw themselves at him, and by reflex, he used his slave as a shield of flesh. 

The warriors threw themselves on the slave, and with their sharp knives, covered him with wounds and cut off his limbs while he was still breathing. The poor human was only the first victim of the decadence that continues in this small bar. 

The three Reavers who were in the background had rushed to the center and fought with the crowd, the player who just a moment earlier had been playing on top of everyone, was now on the ground, a knife in his throat. 

The Succubis were fighting against one of the bar waiters. 

Three Kabalists had entered armed with their guns to participate in the bloodbath and the manager of the bar sent his henchmen to try to regain control of his establishment. 

Lerro came out behind an overturned table, crawling. He was only a short walk from the exit. 

But he just had to wait for one of the Kabalists to walk away. 

Whoever was blocking his exit fired a few shots. 

The warrior turned his head slightly in the direction of where Lerro was hiding. The Blood Diamonds spy stayed hidden, hoping not to be seen. 

The Kabalist remained motionless, then headed into the center to find a new victim. This was the moment Lerro had been waiting for. 

He then crawled. 

A freshly severed hand fell on his face. He almost screamed in surprise, but he restrained himself. He was too close to fail. 

He was only a few centimeters away… and YES! He successfully passed through the exit door and finally came out alive. 

He turned his head to see the bar which was now chaotic, and gave a good laugh. 

As he turned to run, his smile disappeared: The waitress at the table stood in front of him, a gun in her hand. 

She smiled and then exclaimed, "It's time to pay your debts." Then she pulled the trigger. 

And just like that, the Kabal of the Blood Diamonds lost Lerro as well as the valuable information he held.

_______

⛔

© 2022warhammer 40000K belong to Game Workshop

Characters belong to me and @rowscara

[rogue-centric]

Swallowed Whole and Spit Out, Wine-Dark and Wretched

Cross-posted on AO3

MATURE/EXPLICIT RATING: graphic descriptions of violence, injury, blood, and gore. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.

Summary:

A violent explosion ravages a Templar storehouse, and scenes of Lisbon send Shay on a blood hunt for the Assassins who are responsible - and he will not rest until they lie dead for their crimes.

Words: 3,225

        The ground shook with every uncertain step Shay took, his feet barely keeping up with the force pushing the rest of his body forward. The air smelled of ash and burning tar, smoke billowing so thick it was suffocating him. Every breath heaved clawed his throat, and the smoke burned at his eyes as he tried to wipe the tears away. Screaming came from all around him as he ran further into shadow, voices echoing around him as he pressed on.

"Onde você está, Joham?!"

An explosion from the right knocked him off his feet, and he rolled across the ground. 

"You have become a monster, Shay!"

He shook himself off and pushed his aching and weary body from the cobblestone.

"Alguém, por favor ajude!"

        Just as he reaches the end of the street, he hesitates, unsure of which direction to turn. The heat from the flames can be felt on his back as he looks at his choices. The boom of another explosion goes off and the debris from the building sprays out over the street, pieces of it slicing through Shay's leather and embedding themselves deep into his body. He cannot find the strength to pull himself up this time, cannot find the strength to continue.

"Hell welcomes traitors like you."

        Shay's eyes shot open as he drew a deep breath in through his nose. He blinked out of his daze, recognizing the quaint room of the inn he was staying at. Darkness still streamed through the window, shadows dancing across the walls under the moonlight. Yet another sleepless night. 

        Dark rings ran under his eyes as he rubbed at his face. Sleep has come as a luxury to him nowadays, and he is rarely ever granted that. Every time he closes his eyes he smells the thick wafting smoke of Lisbon, the feeling of dread and horror filling his chest and threatening to smother him. He tried drinking himself into oblivion, but the smell on his own breath made him sick. It reminded him of the brewery storehouse he had fallen through the roof of, a fine aged stout that had drenched him head to toe and mixed horribly with the smell of burning flesh. For days after the earthquake, he couldn't rid himself of the smell of alcohol, his clothing stinking of such a strong scent that he threw all of it overboard. 

        Shay had been tracking down a group of Assassins who were connected to another gang attack on the north end of New York and his patience was beginning to run thin. One of the Templar storage houses in the Upper Harbour was hit, resulting in a massive explosion and several dock hands dying from severe burns and terrible injuries. The scene of the crime looked and smelled and sounded like Lisbon, and Shay was nearly sick just from the proximity. 

       At the time of the attack, anger had mixed with nausea, and he was so deep into his memories that Gist had to shake him by the shoulders. The Morrigan's crew took to helping the injured, and his Quartermaster had kindly guided his dazed form away from the area to catch a moment's reprieve. When Shay was able to regain his focus, it came as sharp as the edge of a dagger and pointed towards the culprits. He barely spoke a word to Gist before disappearing into the gathering crowd to track his latest prey. Now, he's left following their messy trail through the frontier, trying to cut them off before reaching Davenport. They needed to be eliminated, and Shay will make sure that they suffer.

        They were well-trained but they were getting sloppy. Half-covered trails dot the countryside and poorly destroyed evidence was left in smouldering fires. Shay had no issue hunting them down like a bloodhound on the scent of prey, but he was always one step behind and a stray bullet too far, which perhaps annoyed him the most about this whole ordeal. He was sure he managed to injure one of them, but they were still scrambling to the next location with too much haste, not wanting to get caught in the jaws of the wolf.

But the wolf is upon them.

        Shay dragged his body from the bed, hissing slightly as his feet made contact with the cold floorboards chilled from the mid-autumn weather drafting in through cracks and old window frames. Running a hand over his face, he looked out the window. The moon was high and shining in through the curtains, unhindered by clouds. 

A perfect night for a hunt.

        He stood, reaching for his effects and beginning to dress his layers. Sleep would not revisit him tonight, so he might as well make use of his time. He dressed in silence before sweeping across the room to the window and sliding it open without a creak. He slipped through the window and down the side of the building with grace before his feet lightly thudded against the ground. 

        There was a safe house in the area the Assassins would be keen to use before making their way further North, perhaps it would do him good to go and visit the location and see what is left of their scrambling. It shouldn't take him very long to get there. If he left now, he'd still arrive hours before sunrise.

        This safe house was unassuming, placed in a field on the outskirts of the village and shrouded in trees, yet it reeked of Assassin. From the placement of the stables to the lack of shutters on the windows, everything had been modified to suit the needs and defences of the Brotherhood. All it lacked was the familiar insignia branding all their flags to hang down from the rafters. 

        Shay peered at the structure from the depths of the shadows surrounding the house. There were no lights shining through the windows and no sign of life within. The stables were empty, and the road was dry from tracks. He approached the house.

        As he walked up to the door, his steps were careful and concealed in shadow. The moon was still out in all her beauty, so Shay had to remain careful in his approach. He reached for a set of tools on his belt and crouched down to begin picking the lock. With a quiet 'click' the handle shifted, and he entered the house like a phantom. 

        Taking care as he waltzed through the space, his attention caught on the dust layering the shelves. This house hadn't been used in some time, which meant that either the Assassins decided to skip this location, or that he'd beaten his prey to their goal. Shay's lips curled into a satisfied grin. If he was asked which to stake his money on, it would be the latter. So he would remain until morning, relocking the door and sitting taut like a statue as he formulated a plan of attack. 

        His eyes bore holes in the floorboards in front of him as he waited for his prey.

-

        The moon had shifted to the right, streaking across the unlit cabin floor when the first sound of hoofbeats echoed from outside. Only about an hour had passed since he entered the abandoned safe house. Shay's eyes sharpened to attention as the muffled trotting approached, and he slunk further back into the shadows as a pair of riders passed the kitchen window. 

        Time seems to move slower as the minutes tick by. Shay remains hidden as he hears the tell-tale 'click' of the lock being turned and the door opening. The assassins sneak into the cabin, unaware of Shay's presence lurking in the shadows. The air is heavy with tension as they put down their bags and begin to unpack their gear. Unconsciously, they lower their guard as the minutes go by, feeling the safety of the candlelight. A woman of average height pulls her hood down and picks up a candle, walking around the room and beginning to light the others scattered on tables and bookshelves. As she nears the Templar's hiding place, Shay steps out from the darkness, his eyes glinting in the candlelight, the steel of his sword catching the eye of the woman.

        She's seconds too late to react as he moves like a phantom, closing the distance between them in the blink of an eye. The Templar thrusts his sword through her chest as he pins her hand before its hidden blade can strike him. Her whole body tenses under his hard gaze, a flicker of recognition and horror in her eyes.

The assassin's voice trembles with a mix of anger and sadness. "You were our brother, Shay."

        Shay's grip tightens around his sword as he pulls it from her body, pushing her to the side as the life leaves her bloodied form. She collapses on the ground, her body convulsing slowly, and the sudden noise sounds far louder than it should be. From across the room, the other assassin turns sharply, brandishing a blade from his belt.

"You!" He shouts in anger. He looks between the Templar and his fallen sister on the ground behind him. 

        Shay stands tall, his expression hardened as he locks eyes with the remaining assassin. The man's face contorted into a snarl, his eyes lit with fury. He remains rooted in his stance, and Shay steps forward to make the first move. He deflects Shay's blow with ease, pushing the Templar's blade to the side and favouring his left arm.

        Shay's eyes narrow at the movement. The assassin is guarding his left shoulder - an injury. He presses forward, unleashing a flurry of precise and calculated strikes, each aimed at exploiting the assassin's injury. Despite the clear shift in attack, the man's reflexes remain sharp, his movements fluid and he defends himself with a series of well-timed parries as he dances around the room.

        The man's snarl transforms into a sinister grin, fueled by a mix of pain and defiance as he begins to push Shay back. Their swords meet with a resounding clash, the sound echoing through the dark room. The assassin manages to gain enough ground to dart around a table, giving him enough space to turn his gaze toward the still-open door and call for the third assassin.

"Lawrence!" The assassin's urgent cry pierces the cabin. "Lawrence, he's already here!"

        Shay seizes the opportunity presented by the distracted assassin and throws himself over the surface of the table, sending their forgotten gear clattering to the floor. He quickly regains his footing and lunges toward the assassin, his blade aimed at the vulnerable left side. The assassin, caught off guard by Shay's sudden maneuver, barely manages to parry the attack, sending him reeling to the side and fumbling to get back on his feet.

        Shay pursues his prey with relentlessness, and the Assassin struggles to block the Templar's sword and regain his footing. The man is stumbling across the cabin, barely able to keep on his feet as Shay presses down on him. Footsteps sound from the door, and Shay vaguely hears the third assassin explode into the cabin as the door rattles on its wooden frame. Shay's back is turned towards the door, leaving himself exposed to the new attacker with only seconds to react.

        Shay disengages from his attack and spins to block the incoming blow, but his position is too weak at this angle as he brings his sword up to deflect. The impact reverberates through Shay's arm as his sword is knocked from his grasp. He stumbles backward, momentarily disarmed and vulnerable. The room seems to shrink around him as the two assassins close in, seizing the opportunity to overwhelm him.

        Adrenaline courses through Shay's veins as he quickly assesses the situation. he sidesteps a swift strike from the first assassin, narrowly avoiding a potentially fatal blow. His mind races, seeking a way to regain control of the situation. He flicks his wrist and the familiar weight of his hidden blade moves against his arm as he brings it up to deflect another attack. 

        The clash of metal fills the air as they engage in a desperate struggle for dominance. The assassins momentarily gain the upper hand, their combined assault threatening to overwhelm Shay's defences. With a wild swing, Shay's fist makes contact with the injury of the one assassin, causing him to stagger backwards with a wail. 

        Shay pushes the injured assassin away with a hard shove, gaining some distance between the two so he can focus on the other target. This man, Lawrence, is a bit larger than his companion and stands a few mere feet from Shay with a sword brandished. The two of them circle the room a couple of paces, both waiting for a strike. 

        Shay stops, squinting his eyes at the assassin and curling the side of his lip up to taunt the other man. In a flash, Shay's hand darts over to the table and grabs hold of a book from their supplies. The Templar flings the book towards the assassin and hits him square in the face. 

        The man, who was anticipating a blade, reels backwards in pain and surprise as the book fumbles to the floor. Using this distraction to his advantage, rushes the assassin and sends the two of them stumbling backwards into the bookshelf. The shelves rattle with the force of their bodies, sending a cascade of books down upon them.

Through gritted teeth, the assassin regains his footing, a mixture of pain and anger etched across his face. He spits out his words with venomous disdain. "Seems like you got a taste for blood while you were licking your own wounds, hm?"

Shay's expression remains resolute as he meets the assassin's gaze, his voice steady. "I have learned that sometimes bloodshed is the only language our enemies understand."

"Our enemies." The words drip with venom from the assassin's lips. "How far you have fallen."

"You think you are any better?" Shay leered. "You just killed a half dozen men."

"Nothing compares to the blood on your hands, traitor." The assassin glares, finishing his sentence by spitting in Shay's face.

        Shay's hands release the assassin's robes and find themselves wrapped around his throat. The pair of them struggle in the dim candlelight, Shay pressing his weight against the other man to keep him in place, watching as the air fails to fill his lungs as tries to claw his way out. The assassin manages to get a hit in, loosening Shay's grip momentarily. The assassin manages to push back, but Shay's wrist turns sharply and the man stills as the hidden blade finds its way into his neck. The man goes limp in Shay's clutches, and the Templar lets him slide down the bookshelf to lie still on the ground. 

        Shay's attention is ripped away at the sound of clumsy footsteps shuddering through the cabin. He turns to see the final assassin hastily fumbling towards the door, a hand clutching his injured arm as he tries to find his footing and escape. He barely makes it to the door before the shot of a pistol rings out and he crumples to the ground with an agonized yell. The cabin door swings slightly to the side, merely inches away. 

        The assassin desperately crawled towards the door, leaving a trail of blood behind him. With each painful drag, the assassin's movements grew weaker and his breathing more ragged. Shay approaches with slow, calculated steps. He felt a mix of exhaustion and adrenaline coursing through his veins.

        Shay stands over the injured man, his pistol still in hand. He assesses the situation, considering his options. The cabin door hung wide open, revealing the dark night outside. The surrounding forest whispers secrets in the night, but there is no escape for the wounded assassin. A tense silence settles between them, broken only by the laboured breaths of the injured man. Shay's expression hardens, his eyes cold and determined. 

"Stay down," Shay says, his voice low and heavy. "It's over."

        The defeated assassin lies on the floor, his body tensed with a mix of pain and resignation. He looks up at Shay, his eyes still filled with defiance, but also a glimmer of acceptance. The fight has taken its toll on him, physically and emotionally.

"Innocent people died in that blast. For what? To cut us off from one of a dozen weapons caches?" Shay scoffs down at the man, "Pointless."

The remaining assassin's gaze meets Shay's, his eyes sharp with disdain. "As if you are any better! You kill as you please, Assassin hunter."

Shay's expression remains hardened, his features unyielding, "Don't try to shift the blame, assassin. You claim to fight for justice, yet you kill without thought or consequence like some mad dog."

"So you aim to be the one to put us down? Is that it?" The assassin sneers.

Shay merely shrugs, leisurely reloading his pistol. "If I must."

The injured assassin's lips curl into a snarl. "God won't help you now."

A wry smile forms on Shay's lips as he meets the assassin's gaze with unwavering determination. "That's alright, the devil and I get along just fine."

Shay brings the pistol to meet the assassin's gaze and pulls the trigger. 

-

        As Shay walks around the silent cabin, his steps purposeful and calculated, his gaze falls upon the flickering candles adorning the table. With a cold detachment, he reaches out and knocks them over, their flames dancing wildly. Shay's eyes gleam with an eerie intensity as he surveys the scattered papers and correspondence scattered across the table.

        He gathers the loose papers, one by one, piling them on top of each other, creating a makeshift pyre. The documents crackle and smoulder as he carefully arranges them, feeding the growing fire with each addition. As the flames take hold, licking hungrily at the paper, Shay's face is lit in the dim glow. His eyes are dark, and deep shadows pull his features into a grim look. 

        As the flames grow higher and the papers crackle, the fire in the cabin begins to spread, hungrily devouring everything in its path. The once quiet space now fills with the roar of the blaze, casting a flickering glow that dances upon the walls.

        Shay watches the chaos unfold, the inferno reflecting in his eyes. With a final, satisfied nod, he turns on his heels and walks purposefully towards the exit, the flames licking at his heels as he steps out into the night.

        The sound of flames and the scent of burning wood and paper fills the air as Shay stands outside the cabin. He watches the tendrils of smoke rise into the darkness, carrying with them yet another remnant of his past shattered past. With each passing second, the cabin becomes engulfed in an all-consuming blaze, its very structure succumbing to the wrath of the fire. Shay's lips curl into a grim smile, knowing that every piece of evidence, every trace of the assassins' plans, is being reduced to ash.

        Shay leaves the scene behind, the crackling flames and the fading echoes of the burning cabin serving as a backdrop to his departure. As he walks away from the inferno, the darkness envelops him and his form is taken by shadow. The night swallows him whole.

[teecupangel]

I've had some thoughts on what elements(not really ATLA) fit Ezio, Altaïr, Desmond, Basim and Ratonhnhaké:ton(just a curiousity thing). And i think Fire fits Ezio alot. It burns fiercly and destroys things in it's path, but the aftermath leaves nurishing, lifebringing ash. It burns down forests, leaving it clear for new growth.

For Desmond it's definetly Water. He bends around the rock in the river, but also violently crushes into obstacles. If we include ice into water(which i often do, it just makes sense imo), it also fits with a slow, but guaranteed death. It can also cut and freezeburn anyone who touches it, who doesn't know it's dangers.

Altaïr is a bit trickier. He also fits Fire, but i also like the idea of him being Lightning. Violent, quick destruction, easily seen and recognised, often turning on it's wielder if improperly handled. But with the right amount, it leads to incredible technology, life altering in it's wonders.

Ratonhnhaké:ton i think is Earth or Wind. Earth is steady, lifegiving, solid. But it can also be devastating in it's power, shaking the very foundation of cities, tearing everything apart. Wind is similiar. Gentle, cooling breeze on a summers day or a warm wind in autumn, but it can also bring devestation. Storms, hurricanes and tornadoes. Tearing things apart, leaving destruction in it's wake, terrifyingly unstoppable.

Basim i think fits with Wind. He is very stubborn and willful in Mirage, like an incoming storm. And with the hallucinations, nightmares and the memories of Loki, he can probably go from a mild breeze to a hurricane in an instant, unstable in it's strength.

Idk about the others protaganists, i still haven't played most of the games(procrastenation is a bitch XD), but feel free to suggest your own ideas of other elements that could fit and how the elements can fit the other characters. ^^

So, before we get to the others, I feel like we should only focus on 5 main elements: Water, Fire, Earth, Wind and Lightning since that’s the elements you suggested.

I agree with their elements and I kinda like the idea of Ratonhnhaké:ton being Wind more than Earth because I want to suggest that we mess with Edward.

He gets the Earth element. Of course, the Water element is right there and it would certainly make sense for him to have a Water element as well but just imagine how funny it would be for Edward to have Earth element and he’s still a pirate. He’s gonna have to be creative and maybe bring a pouch of dirt with him. Or Jackdaw’s captain quarters have a minigarden. Edward having Earth element could work. Earth and plants in general can be stubborn sons of bitches that won’t die even when they’re out of their natural habitat (take dandelion growing on concrete for example). But Earth is also adaptable and steadfast.

I would also like to add, Basim is also like a fog (which is Wind adjacent) because of the secrets he hides in the ‘illusion’ called Basim (as someone who don’t even know it or as Loki who actively uses that facade)

Now, for the other protagonists:

Bayek would be Fire. He brings warmth and safety to those he loves and suffering and death to those against him. The rage and desire for vengeance burns inside him but, at the same time, it is that warmth that helped him move on and create a path forward.

Shay would be Lightning as well, his name as an Assassin hunter similar to the thunderous roar that warns those of his presence but not of where he would strike.

Arno is Wind. At the start, he is carefree summer breeze, just fleeting around and enjoying the life he has. Later on, he becomes a mist, present but not the center of attention, satisfied of being of service to the woman he loves. After her death, he becomes a brewing storm that could just as easily be destructive to himself and others.

Evie and Jacob. Now, these two… they would be Earth but of ‘different kinds’. Jacob would be more of a plant-based Earth elemental wielder, a symbol of his desire to make his own path, away from their father’s legacy. Evie, on the other hand, is more of a stone-based Earth elemental wielder, signifying the fortitude of her loyalty to their father’s legacy. Both of them are Earth because they both hold their grounds on the belief they have.

Kassandra is Fire, mainly because a lot of her abilities in the game had a fiery effect. Her destructive capabilities coincide with the destructive force of flames devouring everything it touches but it’s also those powers that could provide saftey and warmth to the people she loves.

[youre-drinking-embalming-fluid]

To all y'all who are saying Arno is physically weaker than previous Assassins - you're right and you should say it.

Think about it. Altaïr and Shay were both raised in the Brotherhood. Ezio was a street brawler, womanizer, and (by necessity) escape artist. Connor was a hunter, Edward a sailor. Arno was a nobleman's servant - a messenger, horse groomer, and gambler on the side. Sure, he could swing a blade, but going toe-to-toe with multiple assailants? Not a chance, buddy.

Side note: I have actually gotten quite used to AC Unity, to the point where I'm actually a better fighter as Arno than i ever was with Ezio. I've started the AC Syndicate storyline but i absolutely will be returning to Unity regularly.

Another thing i was gonna mention in my AC Unity post about how Arno feels different from earlier Assassins:

If Arno gets into a fight outside of his caliber, he loses. Badly. Maybe I'm just not as good at the game as other hardcore players, but if I fuck up a stealth mission and suddenly I'm fighting eight revolutionaries, I'm screwed.

If Ezio screws up the stealth, he beats twelve guards into submission with his bare hands. Connor takes on whole squads by himself, on level ground. Shay takes on entire forts singlehandedly. Even Altaïr does this - the climax of his story is taking on Everybody At The Same Time and winning.

Arno wins fights by surprise, speed, and planning. I've learned to kill snipers on rooftops before moving to ground level, how to utilize cherry bombs to draw attention away from a target. My favourite trick is drawing attention with a berserk blade and picking off the combatants with a rifle from cover.

Playing AC Unity is fundamentally different from any AC game that came before, and its game design is extremely impressive.

[archxngxl]

MUSES

Muses with * next to their name have some dark bios that include dark themes such as abuse, murder, death, drugs etc so please be aware!

Alice Robinson* (SHE/HER) , 28, Heterossexual, Medium / Hotel Receiptionist – OLIVIA COOKE

Aaliyah Razek (SHE/HER), 26 – 30, Heterosexual, Forensic Anthropologist – MAY CALAMAWY

Renata Reyes (SHE/HER) , 28 – 30, Bisexual, Doctor – ADRIA ARJONA

Beatriz Giordano* (SHE/HER), 35 – 40, Bisexual, Mob Boss – MORENA BACCARIN

Laura Di Vittorio* (SHE/HER) , 27, Heterossexual, Mob Boss – VICTORIA PEDRETTI

Ashley Winters (SHE/HER), 23, Heterosexual, Bassist of ‘The Cardinals’ – SOPHIE THATCHER

Lisa Grant (SHE/HER), 23, Bisexual, Guitarist of ‘The Cardinals’ - RUBY CRUZ

Joanna Hendrix (SHE/HER), 23 – 24, Heterosexual, Lead Singer of ‘The Cardinals’ – SAMANTHA LOGAN

Brianna Cohen* (SHE/HER), 36 – 44, Bisexual, Assassin – JESSICA CHASTAIN

Veronica Castillo* (SHE/HER). 35 - ???, Heterosexual, Accountant & Vampire – MARTHA HIGAREDA

Aida Davtyan* (SHE/HER), 27 - ???, Demisexual Biromantic, Baker & Vampire – ANGELA SARAFYAN

Cleo Bautista* (SHE/HER), 29, Heterosexual, Bartender – SHAY MITCHELL

Darcy Morgan (SHE/HER), 29, Heterosexual, Tattoo Artist – WILLA FITZGERALD

Florence Cameron (SHE/HER), 28 – 32, Heterosexual, Singer – RILEY KEOUGH

Eris Laviscount (SHE/HER), 23 – 25, Heterosexual,

Layla Hassan (SHE/HER), 29, Heterosexual, Opera Singer – PINAR DENIZ

---

Uriel (THEY/THEM), ???, Pansexual, Angel – EMMA DARCY

Carmen Jimenez (THEY/THEM), 24, Pansexual, Drummer of ‘The Cardinals’ – LIZETHE SELENE

---

Abel Prince (HE/HIM), 29 – 32, Heterosexual, Detective – LAKEITH STANFIELD

Lorenzo Rossi* (HE/HIM), 39 - ???, Heterosexual, Banker & Vampire – BEN BARNES

Erik Karlsen* (HE/HIM), 32 - ???, Pansexual, Writer & Vampire – MICHIEL HUISMAN

Joaquin Castro (HE/HIM), 38 – 43, Heterosexual, DEA Agent – GABRIEL LUNA

Santiago Castro (HE/HIM), 30, Heterosexual, ??? – DANNY RAMIREZ

Dominic Price* (HE/HIM), 34, Heterosexual, Drug Kingpin – GARRETT HEDLUND

Naveen Bhaskar (HE/HIM), 36, Pansexual, Marine Biologist – RAHUL KOHLI

Santino ‘Sonny’ Caputo (HE/HIM), 30 – 32, Heterosexual – CASEY DEIDRICK

Salvatore Colombo (HE/HIM), 32 – 35, Heterosexual, Italian Mob Capo – DJ COTRONA

Raphael Colombo (HE/HIM), 48, Heterosexual, Italian Mob Underboss – KEANU REEVES

George O’Neill (HE/HIM), 32, Heterosexual, Irish Mob Enforcer / Pianist – OLIVER JACKSON COHEN

Michael Davis* (HE/HIM), 46, Heterosexual, Detective – MATTHEW MCCOUNAGHEY

Simon ‘Booker’ Davis* (HE/HIM), 46, Heterosexual, Drug Kingpin / Arms Dealer - MATTHEW MCCOUNAGHEY

Hunter Morrison (HE/HIM), 25, Heterosexual, Up and coming Actor – MASON GOODING

Daniel ‘Danny’ Liu (HE/HIM), 27 – 29, Bisexual, Tattoo Artist – DEREK LUH

[fromashesweriseuphiddenones]

Fire, Blood and Steel

Cast List

Desmond Miles later Kenway: Biological son of William and Kayana Miles though at sixteen years old he ran away from home as he could no longer stand the toxic environment. He got to New York and met those that would form his found family.

Claudia Kenway nee Auditore: Daughter of Giovanni and Maria Auditore, Claudia is spunky and hot headed but a loving individual. She will call you out regardless if you are her brother, father, husband or a good friend. She met Desmond at sixteen and fell in love with the guy. They married two years later.

Captain Edward James Kenway: Desmond's adoptive father and a parental ancestor. He's a pirate and the owner of the Jackdaw. He will do whatever it takes to prove to Desmond that one can have a loving parent.

Malik Kenway formerly Al-Sayf: The devil of Maysf, the Dai of Jusurealm and Altaïr ibn-La'Ahad's right hand man. He was reborn in the modern day as well, though he was struck with illness. He also cannot speak as when he came back from the dead, his vocal cords didn't reattach correctly and he is mute. He is also still missing his arm. He meets Leonardo and falls for the Italian.

Kadar Kenway formerly Al-Sayf: Malik's little brother. He died far too young on a mission he had no business near. He has a permanent limp now and digestive issues. He was also with Malik when they were reborn in the modern day and often speaks for them both.

Jacob Frye: this loveable dork and his twin sister have also been reborn in the modern day. He befriends Desmond after he returns to New York with Claudia, Edward, Malik and Kadar. He's a hell raiser but he will buckle down when Evie or their friends are threatened. He meets Elsie De'lasare and falls in love.

Evie Frye: this well read assassin befriended Desmond after he helped her and Jacob out. She is very serious when it comes to being an assassin and enjoys Malik's company even if he has limited communication.

Arno Dorian: this French assassin befriends Desmond and cares for his friend like he's a kid brother to him. Arno and Evie fall in love.

Elsie De'lasare: this French Templar meets and befriends Claudia and the two rather enjoy girl time, especially when Evie joins them.

Leonardo Da Vinci: Malik meets and befriends him. The two fall in love despite Malik's limited communication. Leonardo helps him find other ways to communicate.

Shay Patrick Cormac: Kadar, sweet Kadar befriends the renowned assassin hunter and falls for him. Shay isn't sure why Kadar or any of the Kenway boys whom Edward adopted care so much about him.

[worldly-diversity]

@rogaire ○ 𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕪 𝕒𝕤𝕜𝕖𝕕 𝕕𝕠𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕒𝕟 ○

          ⤷  『  " Well, that was rather impressive. Where did you learn that? "  』

He shouldn't be here. Combing through memories was one thing, the Helix database providing a wealth of information beyond the base experiences that the service was meant to provide to the public. Bishop had been pleased with his progress, and he'd gotten several other agents out of some nasty tangles as well.

However, upon being sent to decrypt some new data batches they'd recently gotten access to… Things had changed. The first thing he noticed as distinctly wrong was that he'd lost all contact with the Assassin team on technical standby, the channel was utterly gone. The second was that he'd gotten a glance at his reflection in some nearby water and had seen… Himself.

Normally that wouldn't be cause for concern, but within the Helix system, that was a very dangerous state of being. If the servers did a scan, not even the body he would be inhabiting would provide any protection against identification, never mind that Bishop and the others wouldn't be able to provide him with any server jumps.

Perhaps the most worrying thing was that he was as flesh and blood here as any ancestor, no matter how much it fucked with his head. He may or may not have a few nasty scratches healing underneath his bracers from sheer dysphoria. Yet no outside contact had been made with him in the time that he'd been here, and he couldn't allow himself to starve either. He still felt hunger and thirst and could only be thankful to the ancestors whose lives he had gotten to experience prior to this mess that he actually knew how to survive out here.

Hunting wasn't as upsetting as he'd thought it would be, and he managed by staying in the forests just fine, wanting to stay out of sight from any other people if he could avoid it. He didn't belong here, making contact could be dangerous…

But then the people found him instead, and things got a little dicey. They looked like Assassins to him, and he hadn't wanted to fight his future allies, but they booked no argument and struck with silent and deathly intent. He'd had no choice… The sudden voice however had him near jumping out of his skin, whirling around with a throwing knife at the ready until he recognised the one who had approached him.

Fuck, isn't that—

"I don't know if I'd like to call murder impressive…" He muttered, glancing away towards the Assassins who had lost their lives to his blade. This wasn't the first time, but it felt so much more real. However, the real problem was the man standing before him now. He isn't sure if the tragedy of Lisbon has happened yet, but that man is without a doubt the assassin hunter, Shay Patrick Cormac.

He really shouldn't be here— Yet making a run for it wouldn't change the fact that Shay has seen him, might even pursue him. He can't risk making an enemy of such a powerful and historically important opponent…

"I guess I picked up a few tricks along the way." He finally answered, taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders. Time to accept that he's about to become part of history, huh?

"I don't suppose they were after you instead?" He offers with a half smirk, extending his hand out in greeting. Making an ally of Shay, whether he be Assassin or Templar, could only work in his favour. The objective is survival after all, the ideological war can take a break where he's concerned.

"Name's McKenzie, call me Dononvan though."

[ulfrsmal]

five comfort characters, five tags

thank you for tagging me @its-tea-time-darling ! This was easier than I thought, hahah!

Uhtred (The Last Kingdom)

2. Gladio (Final Fantasy XV)

3. Alexander (Guild Hunter Series)

4. Shay Cormac (Assassin's Creed)

5. Tibarn (Fire Emblem Path Of Radiance/Radiant Dawn)

No Pressure Tags: @captainkilly, @bitchofdarkness, @naps4bats, @bouncehousedemons, and @crookes-library. Have fun lovelies :D