Maestro di Assassini

Che tu sia parte nella morte. Requiescat in pace. |Ezio Roleplay Blog| Afiliated with Rifts of Pyli| Level 1 Thief

[maestrodiassassini]

Prologo: La Spaccatura

[ghostofshartan]

"This Rodrigo Borgia— he is your enemy?" Fenris asked. He was not sure what a Spaniard was, although he supposed it was another feature of the land that this stranger hailed from, like his strange almost-Arcanum.

Still, he understood the urgency to get back. He had left enough people behind— had left Hawke behind, and right when everything had gone to hell back home. If something had happened in his absence…

That did not bear thinking about— not right now. He would get back home, back to the rest of his friends. There was no use dwelling on what would happen in the meantime.

"I have heard good things about a blacksmith in Asrin, named Markul," he said. "I have not visited him myself, so I cannot say more. There are carriages that will convey you there safely." 

He inclined his head to the man. He had only ever made this offer to one person before, but it… seemed appropriate. “My name is Fenris,” he said. “If you are ever in need of assistance, I keep a room in Estaria’s boardinghouse.”

[maestrodiassassini]

"Yes...and an enemy to freethinking men everywhere," Ezio said, scratching his chin irritably. "I doubt you will run into him but if you do, I would appreciate the information A fat, balding Spaniard with a staff that is...magical for lack of a better term is hard to miss."

Part of him hoped that Borgia might have traveled through the rift with him...that would have saved him a considerable amount of trouble But it seemed that he wouldn't be so lucky this time.

"That's an interesting name," Ezio mused. Or maybe it wasn't; with people walking around with names like Fenris he could very well be the strangest named person here. "Perhaps I will pay him a visit then..."

"Hai il mio ringraziamento," Ezio said with a small bow. "Ezio Auditore da Firenze, at your service...and I shall keep you in mind." 

With that, Ezio slipped into a passing crowd, hood pulled over his face as he searched for someone who wasn't paying attention to their wallets...

[maestrodiassassini]

Il Armiere (Closed: Red)

[cardinalhummingbird]

  Red smiled. “Possibly, but I’d rather keep a low profile while I figure out how to get home. My artistic influence got me into some trouble back in my world. Also, Pyli doesn’t seem as reliant on music as I’ve become accustomed to.” She shook her head sadly, “Besides, Markul took me in and gave me paid work. Enough to live comfortably while I figure out what to do. No one else has extended me such kindness here and certainly no opera house.”

When he offered her his passive assistance, the woman held her hands up to politely dismiss him. “No, you’ve done more than enough. Really. This gold could keep the blacksmith stable for months which is a luxury I don’t think Markul has had in quite some time.” Red stood from the basin and walked to the counter where the gold was, running a hand across it with a grateful sigh.

Ezio’s question caused her to pause in thought, looking over the details of his order on the nearby parchment, “The weapons should take three days if my estimates of Markul’s previous work is correct. Possibly even quicker if he works through the night. The armour… I’m not sure. It’s a little more complicated. A week? If you’re in Asrin tomorrow, come by and I tell you where we’re up to.”

[maestrodiassassini]

"I think I'll follow your lead then," Ezio said, readjusting his hood as if to get a jump start on laying low. "I like to think I'm a practiced hand at it at this point."

His line of work benefited from secrecy and Ezio had no plans to start knife juggling in the street for coin.  He had no doubt that he'd think of something...and in the mean time, if Pyli found itself short of one or two ill tempered individuals, well, that was just icing on the cake. 

A man had to keep himself sharp, didn't he?

"A week...a bene," Ezio said, crouching down as he glanced around the shop. "Anything I could take off the rack? I'd like to have more than just a walking stick to walk around with in the mean time."

[maestrodiassassini]

Il Armiere (Closed: Red)

[cardinalhummingbird]

Red continued to take Ezio’s measurements, scribing them after each interval. The length of his chest, the circumference of his waist, his arms, wrists, shins, Red seemed to to be collecting a neverending list of dimensions. It felt almost too personal knowing so much information about someone she’d only just met but he seemed comfortable enough with the process.

"I’m Red," she introduced, subconsciously combing an ungloved hand through her hair, forgetting if she had already told him. Cursed to be bestowed with a name of multiple meanings. "Like the colour." With a loud clang, the metal that had been melting was tipped into channels, disappearing into the bowels of the blacksmith. Markul grunted a cough before vanishing though the backdoor, no doubt to begin moulding Ezio’s weapons at his forge.

It meant they no longer had to keep their voices low. Red let out a breathy sigh, lining up the aluminium guides beside her finished document of Ezio’s physical credentials. “You assume I have knowledge and experience in engineering,” she laughed discarding the one glove on her hand and strolled to the washbasin, drenching her face and hands to remove most of the black ash on her skin.

After patting herself dry with a cloth scrap, she gave a smirk to the foreigner while crossing her arms and leaning a hip against the stone basin. “I could attempt to figure it out if I had some kind of blueprint but I’m fresh out of pistol schemas, I’m afraid.” Her playful expression slowly faded, “Markul may look gruff but these days his morals far outweigh his desire to experiment, and I am the same.”

"I’m a singer, not a blacksmith, Ezio. All I want to do is go home."

[maestrodiassassini]

"Red," Ezio repeated, tying the name to the face. "I knew a girl named Rosa once. She was...well...nothing like you. Unless you happen to be a Venetian thief that is."

"I wagered you knew a little," Ezio said with a small sigh of disappointment. "Considering you worked in un fabbro. It sounds like some kind of opera house would be better suited to your talents, no?"

He was getting off topic but so far the strange looking man and his colorful assistant were the best chances he had of replicating his hidden blades. Even if his hidden pistol was beyond his own comprehension, surely a competent smith could manage a blade under the arm...right?

"I will see what I can do for you then," Ezio said, readjusting the cape on his shoulder as Red finished with the measurements. "No doubt, you're not the only one who has things to do, signorina. But until I do...well, maybe I can take advantage of my circumstances a little..." 

What Fenris had said about the Rift Mages concerned him. If these...people were capable of pulling innocent people away from their friends and loved ones...well, he had to make sure this didn't happen again, didn't he?

"Do you know when you and your master will be finished?" Ezio asked. "Not to rush or anything; I just wonder if I shouldn't get a room for the night...or week."

[maestrodiassassini]

Prologo: La Spaccatura

[ghostofshartan]

That almost got a laugh out of Fenris. An ominous sounding organization indeed. A whole country, steeped in blood and built on the back of slaves, whose arrogance had tainted the world. He would not have minded if the whole place had burned to the ground.

"You would do best to steer clear of the Imperium, yes," he said. "It is a land of dark magic and ambitious men with little enough care for those beneath them. I was lucky enough to escape it."

He shrugged at the man’s words. Once again, that strikingly familiar feeling— as if someone was speaking Tevene in the next room, and he could not quite hear it. He shrugged, tried in Arcanum, “Non lingua eius loquetur indicium.”

However it had come about that their native tongues sounded so eerily similar, it was clear that this man was from a different land altogether.

"It does," Fenris said. "One minute I was in my own world, fleeing along the Wounded Coast— the next, I was here." Separated from his friends, from Hawke. He pushed away the unexpected pain of that thought. “An unfortunate property of this land— it’s mages overreached themselves, and created that which they cannot control. Their rifts brought us here.”

[maestrodiassassini]

"Dark magic?" Ezio nearly laughed at that before he remembered that "dark magic" may very well be the explanation for all his misfortune. The...artifacts that had propelled Savonarola and Borgia to power was beyond his understanding...maybe he was dealing with things out of fairy tales and myths. 

Wouldn't have been the strangest thing to happen to him. The man appeared to be speaking some bastardized form of Latin and he was likely nowhere near Rome.

"So the Spaniard had nothing to do with this," Ezio said, running a hand through his beard thoughtfully. "One less thing to stab Rodrigo Borgia over and one more reason to find these...mages and politely request a return pass...I'm afraid I don't have time to play their games. Too many people are relying on me to get home."

"But first," Ezio said, scratching the back of his neck. "I appear to have been...disarmed on my way here. You wouldn't happen to know of a quality fabbro...a blacksmith where I could resupply?"

[arno-ezio-world-deactivated2014]

-Blend with the crowd.

[nyiro]

[templarsandhoes]

Date a boy who will pick flowers for you. Date a boy who is mysterious and wears a hood. Date a boy who will steal your packages when they don’t give them to you fast enough. Date a man, not a boy. Date a man several years older than your parents. Date Ezio Auditore.

[maestrodiassassini]

Il Armiere (Closed: Red)

[cardinalhummingbird]

Red was unable to contain a small snort, “Do not misunderstand. I am merely trying to get as accurate a measurement as possible.” Letting the tape temporarily hang over her shoulder, the woman bent down, searching for something in the seeming unorganised boxes around the counter. Markul’s symphony of clanging ingots and prickling fires set the background ambience of the darkened shop, only light sources now from the skylight and the furnace itself.

Returning with strips of aluminium metal that were discarded on the counter, Red pressed the tape from the assassin’s shoulder to shoulder, coupled with a murmured, “Stand naturally.” Once she’d taken the measurement he leant down slightly and the woman suddenly felt like she was participating in an exceedingly private conversation. Her heart skipped at the realisation of herself and the man having far more in common than she first assumed.

As if dressing a mannequin, Red manipulated Ezio’s arms to hold a T pose and reaching back to loop the tape around his chest. “I’m not surprised,” she replied, smiling to herself, “Flintlock technology simply hasn’t been invented yet.” With a small tug on the tape to get the correct inch, the bind was released. “Well, it has, sort of, but not on a portable scale. Gunpower exists. Maybe they’d understand if you asked for a handheld cannon but they’d just say it was impossible. You can put your arms down now, Mr. Auditore.”

Noting the numbers thus far on the parchment, Red draped the tape over her shoulder again and picked up one of the aluminium strips. Raising on her toes slightly for a height boost, she carefully bent the material around his shoulder, staring past Ezio’s neck while waiting for the metal to remember the shape. “I can’t imagine you acquired all that gold in good faith as a rift-traveller, and you don’t seem like you’ve been around for long…” Red’s eyelids squeezed in hopeless thought, sliding the now Ezio-shaped metal off his shoulder, “With the amount of incursions versus excursions, I’m beginning to feel that we all involuntarily signed the waiver to a unilateral demise.”

[maestrodiassassini]

"Una facezia, signorina," Ezio chuckled, letting the woman pose him and measure him as she would. "And don't worry about the money; I met some very nice people who made some very generous donations to a weary traveler whose florins are less useful."

Ezio glanced back at the smith warily before returning his attention to the redhead. The pointy knife-eared swordsman confirmed that he wasn't the only one who had found themselves not where they should be but he had no idea if that was something that was safe to advertise to the world.

"If gunpowder exists," Ezio said, turning his head away from the smith. "And a certain enterprising smith had knowledge of that fact...then she might be able to replicate a certain type of weapon that might give her an edge over her enemies, si?" 

"Though your master seems a little hesitant to experiment beyond his comfort zone," Ezio said. "Which is a bit of a shame, seeing as how I find myself lacking a certain...experimental weapon that might give me an edge"

"But you have me at a disadvantage," Ezio said, watching her work the aluminum mold. "Might I ask a fellow traveler's name?"

[maestrodiassassini]

Prologo: La Spaccatura

[ghostofshartan]

The strange words that he peppered his speech with still had that aracanum lilt to them. They still made no sense, and he frowned, as he puzzled out their context.

"You have given no offense," he assured the stranger. "I am only curious— I am also new to this land."

Whoever this stranger was, he had most likely come through the rifts— bringing his skills and his Florentino language with him. Wherever he was from, it would no doubt be as alien to Fenris as some of the others he had met. And yet he could not shake the prickling at the back of his neck at the sound of this strangers words. He had to ask.

"You have never heard of the Tevinter Imperium, then," he inquired. "Nor the language, Arcanum— also called Tevene."

It was a slim chance. He was not even sure if he hoped that this stranger knew of the Imperium. Indeed, it would pose a whole host of problems if he did. And yet, he had to know.

[maestrodiassassini]

Tevinter?

Was that a term he was supposed to know? Is that where he found himself now? He didn't know how safe it was to disclose ignorance here, if he should pretend to know more than he did...then again, if this was a chance to do some reconnaissance, shouldn't he take it?

"An ominous sounding organization," Ezio said evenly. "Not one I'm familiar with, I'm afraid. If it's a group I should be on the watch for while I'm here, I'd just as soon steer clear of them...or maybe not. Non posso parlare Fiorentino da me, corretto?"

"But tell me," Ezio said, tilting his head up to get a better look at the man. "When you say you are new to this land...do you mean to say that you found yourself here without reason or explanation?" 

[edwards-kenway]

Assassin’s Creed meme - eight scenes (2/8) ↬ Ezio’s Speech

[local-murderer]

[maestrodiassassini]

Prologo: La Spaccatura

[maestrodiassassini]

ghostofshartan:

Fenris knew that look. That was the wary look of a man used to combat who was expecting trouble but not hoping for it. Now, more than ever, he was intrigued.

He had no intention of fighting with this man. Whoever he was, he had done nothing wrong. Traveling over rooftops did not necessarily mean anything nefarious— although it was a good indication of clandestine activity.

"I see," he said, in response to the explanation he was given— which he no more believed than one of Varric’s tall tales. "Still— no man moves like you do without some practice."

For the moment, he let the issue go. He was far more interested in the man’s way of speaking. It sounded startlingly familiar— as if he should understand the word, but he did not know it. It sounded, he realized, strikingly like Arcanum.

"What language is that?" he asked, perhaps more sharply than he might have intended. "It— it sounds familiar."

"I lived in Florence for quite some time," Ezio shrugged, conveniently leaving out the part where most of the time he was either leaping off rooftops on to targets or climbing rain gutters to get away Templar guards. "Big city; lots of close buildings young boys could jump around on without too many people getting upset."

The best way to lie, Ezio found, was to tell as much of the truth as possible. And for all he knew, the mercenary was working for the local government, trying to bring in anyone who was...displaced. 

"Florentino," Ezio replied simply in response to the man's question. "Though if you have to ask, I don't think we're exactly parenti...no offense, signore, but I'm...ah...new in town. To put it gently."

Then again...sometimes one needed to put one's cards on the table to see what the other player had in his pocket. 

[maestrodiassassini]

Il Armiere (Closed: Red)

[cardinalhummingbird]

“Dabu,” Markul sighed in an Orcish agreement, “Aye, she is correct.” He met Ezio’s eye for a moment before he turned away, disgrace painting his unkind features. Realising he was over-poking the fire, he put the spoke down and turned to look down the end of the blacksmith with crossed arms. “As much as I wish to say no, I financially cannot decline your offer. I will build the battlegear.”

Red returned from the backroom, cloth measuring tape in hand but paused, hanging in Markul’s line of site to witness the rest of the conversation. With a peaceful expression she studied Ezio silently. Her brows only pinched when a couple of whispering maidens passed the blacksmith, looking in and scrunching their noses at the sight of the half-orc.

"The material can become unstable and seems to function differently depending on the wielder. There is a chemical reaction to bodily fluids like sweat and blood that I never was able to fully evaluate. Until forged, the material’s other-worldy properties stay dormant, which is why we can live in it." Markul’s eyes dulled, subconsciously tilting his face so the sunlight displayed the full extent of his facial injury. "It’s not like other blade or plate which is an extension of yourself. To wield… black lucemnite, it must be a co-existence.”

Red cautiously walked back over to the counter, watching the blacksmith remove all but two pieces of gold from the coin pouch, and pushed it back across the table. Pocketing the money in his apron, he walked around the inside perimeter of the shop, pulling thick curtains across the windows and closing the door. Crouching by a particularly ordinary piece of wall, Markul whispered some kind of incantation and the black bricks folded away to reveal a hidden cache of black lucemnite ingots. At least three hundred or so.

"Ezio?" Red intoned, gently clearing her throat while moving around the table, making sure the parchment and quill were beside her on the counter. "I’ll take your measurements now." The crimson haired woman tentatively held the cotton tape across Ezio’s shoulders before she hummed unsatisfied at the inch yield. "Do you mind if you remove your coat?" she asked while looking up to him, mildly incredulous.

[maestrodiassassini]

"Bene," Ezio said with a small nod. "I'm glad we could come to an agreement. There is a possibility that I might be...held up in the area for a while and I'd prefer not to spread my coin around too thinly if you catch my drift."

If this steel turned out to be reliable and this blacksmith dependable...Ezio might set the pair of them to puzzling out how he might recover his hidden blades. The design was simple enough...he supposed. He lacked Leonardo's mechanical expertise but the general gist was easy enough to describe. 

"I shall be sure to keep it clean of blood then," Ezio laughed, dropping his cape on the counter as he followed the woman over to the counter. "And as flattering as that is, signorina, I would have you measure above the coat seeing as how I wear my plate over my travelling clothes."

Glancing at the blacksmith, he bent his head down, hoping that the roaring fire would provide ample muffling. 

"And what did you mean when you said that pistola weren't in this world?" He asked. "The last three smiths I went to gave me a blank stare when I mentioned that..."

[tevintermage]

[glyphh]

[maestrodiassassini]

Il Armiere (Closed: Red)

[cardinalhummingbird]

Red scribed the information accurately, making small notes beside each where necessary. Once she was finished she considered the spelling of his name. Owditoray? Audetorey? She settled with a simple Ezio in the top right hand corner of the parchment. “Pistols don’t exist here,” she murmured quietly, tapping the full stop where she’d written Crossbow. “Now, regarding your armour. We can forge it in Damascus Steel or…” She disappeared under the table again and revealed a piece of the blacksmith’s wall, placing it lightly on the table, “We can make a compound steel with this.”

Markul turned around, a horrified expression flashing across his face before roughly grabbing Red’s arm to pull her grasp away from the ore. “No,” he growled urgently, staring his assistant in the eye and letting go of her, “Damascus.”

Red wiped spit from her cheek, watching the blacksmith turn away from her, “Well why not?!” she demanded irritatedly, “I found your research, you wrote yourself that it was stronger than titanium and as light as damascus steel.”

"I told you not to look through my personal documents,” Markul snarled into the furnace, large canines bared as he lined steel and nickel ingots in an organised row on the edge.

The assistant breathed in, troubled by his stubbornness. He had agreed to help her build the Transistor, why wouldn’t she let anyone else experiment with the meteorite’s technology. “If he can pay for it—”

Markul slammed his fist against the furnace and turned his neck, eyes momentarily crazed and expression feral, “Because it’s dangerous, Red. I will have no further blood on my hands for the sake of innovation.”

And all the pieces fall together.

Red’s eyes were wide in temporary shock before she remembered there was a guest in their home. Her gaze flicked to Ezio to acknowledge him, “I’ll get the measuring tape,” she grimaced in humiliation and walked away quickly, vanishing behind the archway at the back of the blacksmith.

"I apologise for her," the blacksmith said, tossing more wood into the furnace and moving it around with a spoke. "She’s bright but she’s yet to understand the rules of this world."

[maestrodiassassini]

Ezio stared at the hunk of metal curiously. To him it appeared nothing more than an unremarkable chunk of iron or bronze...but the way the blacksmith looked at it, it may very well have been made of vipers. 

But the woman's words rang in his head and if there was one thing Ezio learned during his stint as an Assassin it was never to buy leather armor when the shop sold steel. 

"Is she correct?" Ezio said, turning his gaze from the girl to her boss with a curious glare as he hefted chunk of iron, noting its dark sheen and relatively light weight. "Does this...metal truly do what you claim it does?"

He wasn't about to walk out of the shop with anything less than the best weapons...and armor made out of light, sturdy, and almost completely black metal seemed to be right up his alley. He didn't know if he would get a finer deal anywhere else...

"Listen," Ezio said, dropping the entire sack of gold on the counter to make his point with an echoing clang. "I don't know what you're talking about but the only one responsible for whatever blood comes from these weapons is me, capisce? And if it's about my safety then I can say that my life has been in danger for longer than this shop has stood here I would wager. Your scrupoli do you credit, maestro, but the man with the gold makes the rules, no? Whatever the cost...if this metal is as good as you say it is, then I would have my pieces crafted out of it instead of the Damascus."  

[maestrodiassassini]

Il Armiere (Closed: Red)

[cardinalhummingbird]

Red walked closer to the customer as he revealed his face, leaving a cautious amount of space, the haphazard counter between them. She reeled slightly when the man brazenly leant forward to size her up and immediately felt vulnerable to her appearance. He exuded an attractive confidence that reminded her strongly of another certain male she once knew, and still did, provided she hadn’t gone mentally insane. After a short pause, she opened her mouth to turn the stranger away, the situation far too skeptical in her eyes.

"Armour?" Came Markul’s rumbling gruff from the back room’s low archway. "Boy, I haven’t crafted a vestments in half a decade." The ageing half-orc made his way to the counter, scratching the tip of his pointy ear and burn scars on his face. "I’ll make your weapons and munition," he agreed, tapping the counter with two thick green-beige fingers, gesturing for the gold, "She’ll make your armour."

Red, who’d taken a mental backseat in the conversation was suddenly pulled back in. “Me?!” she intoned with disbelief. The voice in her head laughed.

"Yes you. Take his measurements and then get cotton, wool and needles from Marei’s and a sheet of chainmail from Rose on West Fountain Road." The blacksmith barely looked the stranger in the eye as he turned away and began to load up two drums on the furnace with steel and nickel respectively. He glanced over to the mortar and scrunched his nose distastefully but did not ask what it was for.

'Damascus steel?' Red thought, recognising the concoction of materials. Well, the customer could certainly afford it. She ran a glove through her hair with an exhale, Markul must have smelt the money from his quarters and despite his demeanour, she could tell he was enthusiastic about the commission. “Alright,” she said breathily, pulling up a parchment from under the counter and inking a quill, “Detail what you need, Mister…” Red looked up to him expectantly, pausing for him to introduce himself.

[maestrodiassassini]

"Ezio," Ezio said, eyes fixated on the woman so his surprise at her master's appearance didn't reach him. "Ezio Auditore da Firenze. At your service."

He turned his attention to the weapons on the rack, listening to the strange creature talking to the woman as he carefully tried to describe what he needed. 

"I need...wait, no chain mail," Ezio said, turning back to the blacksmith. Too noisy; too cumbersome. Last thing he needed was someone hearing him come a mile off. "What I ask for is very...minimal. Chestguard, greaves, vambrace, spaulders; nothing else. Light metal; as light as it can be without sacrificing the strength of the steel. And don't bother polishing it; this isn't exactly parade attire." 

He doubted he could get close to Altair's armor without the specifications but the best he could hope for was that they would come close. 

"As for weapons," Ezio said, taking his knife belt off his chest and laying it on the counter. "Knives, a dagger...a light sword of some kind...a crossbow as well or a pistola if you know what that is...something I can use at a range."

"The armor is the most important part, capisce?" Ezio said, directing the attention to the woman. "I can work with different kinds of weapons but I need the lightest plate you can forge."