The Many Weapons of An Assassin - Part 1
_(Ok so I did this while working today, in between customers. It is an idea I have been bouncing around for a week and change and just wanna get it on paper. Sorry that it may be rough around the edges.
It is set in the Assassins Creed universe, dorky I know but there it is. Just a bit of fanfic type fun involving my fursona.
Anyhow I hope at least some of you enjoy.)_
Blaze Stark looks around the tavern, looking for nothing but watching everything. The stallion takes another swig of his ale and sighs. 'I wonder how long they are going to take this time?'
"Nothing is true..." Came a voice from behind him.
Blaze knows not to look back. He simply replies, "Everything is permitted."
"Very good; Blaze your target is.."
Blaze holds up his hand. "I believe you are forgetting something are you not?"
There is silence for a few moments and Blaze finds himself readjusting his grip on the stein he holds. Re-adjusts in order to, if things go poorly in a moment, he will be able to defend himself in a concise manner.
A black swan feather is dropped over his shoulder. He takes the feather for a moment, as though studying it for authenticity before placing it gently on the table. He reaches into a pouch on his belt and retrieves a white swan feather. Without looking over his shoulder he reaches back and offers it to whoever is standing behind him. "I believe this belongs to you."
"You know that is not mine."
Blaze withdraws his offer. "Just making sure that would be the case. So who is the target?"
"Targets...they are an organization that refers to themselves as the "Harvest's Hands."
Blaze snorts. "Why have secret organizations stopped putting any effort into finding themselves intimidating or inspiring names?"
"That is not your concern and you know as such."
The stallion shrugs. "Do you have the membership list?"
"No...we have not managed to acquire one as of yet."
It is hard for Blaze to hide his surprise or irritation; he decides to allow his intrigue to step forward. For such information to be unknown still is quite a feat on behalf of the targets. "Well then killing them should prove to be quite the interesting task."
A growl waffles through the air but Blaze remains calm. "This is too important to trust the information gathering to novices. You don't find yourself to be above such tasks as reconnaissance do you?"
Blaze doesn't respond, instead he chooses to have more of his drink and move to more of a defensive nature.
"Good because though you may be the favored on this isle, you are not irreplaceable. Britain is small and thus it is very easy for the seasons to change yet be without a place to call shelter."
Blaze and says nothing.
"We leave you with information of what we believe to be the one known member, his allies, family and servants. We hope these targets are not beyond the reach of your blade."
"Even if they are; there are many weapons at my disposal that have better reach than weapons."
A few minutes later Blaze finishes his drink, reaches down and grabs the satchel he knows will now be there. It looks as though the afternoon has been pre-spent going by how many scrolls rest within the satchel.
Hours later Blaze tugs on his sleeve to straighten it out then examines himself in the mirror. His dark green shirt is clean, crisp and yet very plain; mud brown breeches are in flawless condition and clean; his knee high boots are a bright polished black. People tend to not noticed the person who is respectably dressed.
Over it all is his white over coat with matching pull up hood. He grimaces as he pulls the hood up and his ears poke through the sides. The hood does very little to hide his equine muzzle whose chestnut colour stands out in very high contrast to the white of the over cloak. That is why he wears earth tones; it helps him blend in to the average passerby. The white does help his most distinctive feature which would be the white star burst that runs half the length of his muzzle down the center.
All and all he sometimes feels a little on the silly side for wearing it to be honest but tradition is tradition. Besides it is not the over coat's fault that it wasn't practically designed for those that are of longer muzzle by nature. How many times will there actually be an equine in the Brotherhood?
A little scent neutralizer in all the right places and Blaze is finally ready for his night on the town.
An hour later Blaze has finally found the one he is looking for; the son of the perspective target Edgar Earl Corlew. The son's name is Rickard, a wolf of seventeen summers who as Blaze watches from his roof top perspective seems to be on the wrong side of the market.
"Are you sure we are heading the right way sir?" The large ox looks back at his charge.
The wolf narrows his eyes, "My father pays you to ensure my protection, not to concern yourself with my affairs."
The pair continues to banter as they cross the square into one of the side alleys where Blaze is waiting for them. The ox holds his hand out to warn his charge back. "Speaker your business stranger."
"Can't I simply be out enjoying the fine evening air?" Blaze smiles.
"No." The ox replies flatly.
"Now now Reynold that is no way to talk to strangers. Especially strangers you wish to keep in your good graces."
"How do you know who I am?"
Blaze shrugs. "A bird told me. They also told me how Lord Quetrell has paid you to kill the whelp when the opportunity presents itself."
The ox looks back to the wolf, "Don't believe him Rickard. He is just some vagabond trying to stir trouble."
Blaze pulls a piece of paper from his belt and allows it to unfurl by its own weight. "Reynold of Onut I am glad you have come to agree the terms of our prior discussion. Enclosed you will find the agreed upon sum o--." Blaze is cut off by his need to dodge the ox's sword.
"How did you get that, filth?" Reynold roars.
Rickard tries to follow the momentary scuffle but in the end cannot keep up visually. The over cloak of the one in white is too baggy, it is hard to read his movements.
As quickly as it begins it is over, Reynold clutches at his throat and falls to his knees. Rickard is confused, as the horse steps around the ox the wolf can see no sign of weapon or blood.
"Wha...what do you want?" Rickard draws his sword. "I'll...I'll fight you if I...if I have to."
Blaze walks right up to the sword tip, and with a single finger directs the blade down and to the side. "I mean you no harm Rickard. I came simply to remove this threat from you. Take this as the proof you need."
Rickard's ears go back and he quickly snatches the offered letter.
"Besides if I wanted to hurt you..." Blaze moves in a deft motion, seizing both of Rickard's wrists, and uses them to pin the wolf to the wall. For someone who is being pinned with their paws over their head to a wall by a complete stranger all Rickard can muster in protest is a soft whine.
"...I would have already hurt you."
The two stare at each other for a moment. Blaze; his eyes burning with intensity, staring directly at the wolf while Rickard on the other hand cannot bring himself to meet the equine's gaze. "Though I must admit you are in an odd section of town. The only thing around here is a brothel of...exotic tastes. Are you looking to make some young male bleed?"
Rickard would go to answer, but finds his breath cut short as the equine leans into him. Rickard takes a deep breath but all he can smell is Reynold's blood, and all he can feel via his instincts is the presence of the equine bearing down on him.
"No, no..." Blaze says lightly. "If you were looking to make someone bleed your ears wouldn't be back would they?"
Blaze changes how he is leaning slightly so that his left leg is pushing into the wolf's groin. He can feel Rickard's excitement through their clothing. Rickard skips a small breath. "No...you are the one looking to bleed aren't you?"
Rickard can feel the equine's hands move so that he is only using one of them to hold both wrists in place. The equine runs a single finger slowly down Rickard's face. When it reaches the nose, the equine pulls the hand back and a hidden blade appears.
Rickard squirms again, not from fear but from excitement as the dagger tip trails lightly against his neck. The excitement turns to shame because he knows he should be feeling this way yet he cannot feel otherwise.
"Oh as much as I would love to make you bleed..."
The equine leans in real close, gently grinding his leg harder against the excited wolf's groin and whispers into Rickard's ear. "And I do mean, make you bleed in the way you so desperately want..."
He nips at the wolf's ear. The wolf whimpers, whines and shudders. Just when he is worried that the intensity of this situation will push him over his limit the Equine steps away.
"But perhaps another evening, when I know you are sure...Until next time." He bows and is off in a flourish.
In the moment it takes for Rickard to recover the mystery horse is around the corner. By the time Rickard is around the corner the mystery horse is gone.
Blaze watches from cover as the young wolf readjusts himself and looks around excitedly. After a moment he stuff the letter he had been given in his belt and slinks off into the night.
"There is always a weapon that can reach the target..." Blaze chuckles to himself and heads home for the evening.