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Literature Text
Fanfiction: Assassin´s Creed
Altair took a deep breath and braced himself. This was his favourite part of training. His eyes followed the scenery of Masyaf with its flat rectangular roofs and stone walls of the fortress soaking in the golden sunlight. Without a second of hesitation, he leaped forward, falling from the tower towards the ground dozens of feet lower.
The impact with hay pile almost knocked the breath out of Altair, but he was used to it and swiftly rolled to side, landing on his feet. He focused to calm his breathing and looked up on the tower from which he jumped. It looked even higher from below, as if the tower supported the clouds above it.
Moments like this made him feel strong, omnipotent. They made him feel like a master assassin. Altair dashed towards the tower, launching on the stone wall and climbing up. There weren´t many cracks which he could use and he had to focus to find edges of the stones wide enough to catch on. Altair climbed up with great effort, straining his trained muscles to support his weight. In the middle of the tower he had to stop for a moment, looking around for way upwards. He panted heavily from the effort and dig him fingers into the rough stone. Slowly, he pulled himself up and up, taking advantage on the smallest cracks and spaces in the stone. Finally, he grabbed on the edge of the landing and pulled himself on it.
Catching his breath, Altair stood up and straightened to his full height, proudly looking down on the wall he just managed to climb. When his breathing calmed, Altair once again prepared on the edge of the tower-roof. His shoulders ached from climbing up twice in row, but he knew how important it was to polish his skills. Even the best assassin will lose his fight if he never trains. Altair wanted to be both best and to never lose.
So he threw himself off the tower in the great show of faith, spreading his arms wide to keep balance during the fall. He landed heavily in the hay pile, stray hays falling into his face. Altair brushed them away and got up, standing on the ground next to the hay. He thoughtfully eyed the tower, musing if he should climb it the third time. He dismissed the idea with a sight and turned towards the village.
Altair ran towards it in slow pace, planning to have small free running tour around the Masyaf before the sun would set down. He speeded up when he ran out of the entrance of the fortress and dashed down the path leading from fortress to village. He skilfully avoided the novices returning home from training in the countryside. Dodging all obstacles, Altair ran to the place where the path twisted and he jumped over the small stone fence. Something in him laughed when he flied in the open air, heavily landing on the roof several feet lower. Without stopping, Altair ran forward, jumping from one roof to another. He loved free running. It made him feel alive, flying from roof to roof like a bird. He didn´t hesitate when he ran out of roofs with similar height and jumped on one of the lower roofs. He had to roll over his shoulder to lessen the impact before getting up quickly and continuing his run. Some of younger assassins turned their heads up when he passed by, but most of them were used to assassins running over the houses.
No one wondered why the assassin dressed in white robes suddenly stopped on the roof of blacksmith. He eyed the small crowd under carefully, but after finding nothing interesting, Altair turned around and headed back to the fortress. He wasn´t running as fast as before, he wanted his stroll to last a bit longer. But the sun was already descending behind the closest hills and Altair knew that he needed to return before the night would fall.
At the entrance, he glanced once more to the village enlightened by the last rays of daylight. It was the only home Altair ever had and he valued it very much. He would protect it until his last breath from any enemies who might come to its gates. The sun set and the eagle of Masyaf turned towards the fortress, slowly walking home after another training day.
Literature
Altair: Eagle's Soul2
Masyaf, Summer 1188 CE
The comb went through the dark brown hair, along the shimmering shine the tresses had in the midday light. The hair was smooth and long, a little curled from the braid it was worn in often. There was a measured pace to the movement of the comb through the woman’s hair. The quiet almost sibilant hiss of the hair parting as the comb’s teeth untangled its length. The arm wielding the comb was strong and muscled using the instruments of war and womanly arts with equal ease. The face in the polished bronze mirror before her was distorted but she did not need to see herself to know that she’d been changed.
Ch
Literature
Altair: Eagle and Sultan5
Siege of Acre, 1189 CE
A week later
Altair poured the honeyed water into the Sultan’s goblet and held it out to him. the man took it without looking. A slave was not worth noticing after all – unless he misbehaved in which case he’d be disciplined. The Assassin replaced the carafe on the side table and waited patiently for other orders. He performed his duties in silence. He was not much of a talker. Even less so now that he contemplated escape. His back still prickled with pain from time to time if he stretched the muscles too far but on the whole he felt better.
As he stood in the shadows, watching the Sultan and his amirs
Literature
Altair: Eagle and Sultan2
Cairo, Egypt, 1189 CE
Altair drifted. Directionless. Bodyless. He knew not who or what he was. His name had ceased to matter. The pain had ceased to matter. His mind had retreated from it wrapped in the Eagle spirit. He felt nothing. No smells. No touch. No sight. No sound. No taste. He was but a mind called Altair. But even that did not make sense anymore. What was Altair? A name? A thing? He could not summon the strenght to answer or think about it. Cradled on his Eagle’s wings, he drifted, safe and content.
The voice was soft and called him. “Altair Ibn La-Ahad.” He ignored it. The name was painful. He remebered it. It car
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who wanted to read something descriptive about Altair training. Hopes you´ll like it, Cameron.;)
Disclaimer: Altair is character from Assassin´s Creed and he doesn´t belong to me but to his righteous owners.
who wanted to read something descriptive about Altair training. Hopes you´ll like it, Cameron.;)Disclaimer: Altair is character from Assassin´s Creed and he doesn´t belong to me but to his righteous owners.
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Comments12
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Overall Vision Originality Technique ImpactIt was very easy to visualize the scenery because of your cleaver wording. All the paragraphs flowed with ease and it felt natural to only be read aloud. I couldn't detect a break in time, which sometime might interrupt a reader's chain of thoughts, but your sentences were very well thought out.
I found that your introduction paragraph got to the point swiftly and was not over done. You instantly caught my attention by jumping right into the action and saving the scenery description after you gained the readers interest. As a writer myself I know introduction can be hard but you nailed it.
Your finishing paragraph was strong but also disappointing, as I was really anticipating a little more. Since you did a fine job giving Altair's background and determining his character's ability and the scenery, I was really eager for a plot line or at least the introduction of another character. If it was your goal to avoid both of these and use Masyaf as your focal point, I would have mentioned more of Altair's personal thoughts to make up for the story lack.
However- this particular piece sounds like a great first chapter to a on-going fanfiction. If this was the beginning chapter to,"Eagle of Masyaf" I would grade it five out of five. So as a suggestion, if you have any story ideas rattling in your brain with Altair, you already have a strong foundation to start with. I would certainly continue it if you have the inspiration to do so. I'd love to read more with other characters and a plotline. I feel like this piece has a lot of potential.