|My babies. I designed them.|
It was a considerably chilling evening as the gushes of wind ran through the trees settled in Masyaf, posing little green in the otherwise drought town that was depraved of such, granting it with a rather desert-like appearance, which did little to contribute to the change of temperature that was inconsistent like the sea. The dawning heat upon the light of day that prolonged untill late in the evening before a cold breeze swept through the frigid buildings. You were seated atop of a roof, somewhere near the imposing castle that proved to be home to the assassins, glancing across its towering height and fascinating architecture. You were certain that it was cleverly build, for there was only one way in, and that was through the mountainpath that proved to be exhausting for those doing little exercise, leave be a horde of templars daring to engage war.
The assassins were feared by many, but it was also more fact than question that they protected the weak, and slaughtered the ones that dared to oppose such a humane rule. Your trail of thoughts continued as you rubbed your left arm, twirling your digits in the light white fabric that hugged your form. It was considerably comfortable, light, but simultaneously padded, and offered resistance to the cold at nights such as these. The thought of ever being with the assassins was alluring, but the fear behind such a commitment washed away the tempation, though you could not stop imagining to be near them, the skills they possessed, the subtle charms, and the little they needed to do for their silve tongue to work, it was truly magnificent, you envied them, if just a little. Your nights often passed like this, sitting atop of roofs, enjoying the starry nightsky, and watching the people pass by that never saw you. All of the men and women were caught in their own routine, even at night the town seemed full of life.
You were a young adult, but you were equally trained as the assassins in the castle, this you proudly told yourself, even if you were not arrogant, you simply knew you were more than adequate to face one in combat, not doubting your victory. Regardless, you were not part of the assassins, you were a simple citizen, for all they knew. You had made your own outfit, having learned at a young age by your father how to craft such, it led upto this, a black outfit, with padding, a red sash around your waist, reinforced by a leather belt underneath and small throwing knives attached to it. You had plenty of room for more equipment, if the need came, but for now, you settled with what you had, a longsword, throwing knives, and your own bare hands. Black certainly blended more with the night, which was an advantage to you as you eventually slipped down from the roof, subtly ending up on the sandy ground as your eyes glanced around, seperating individuals as they perused all that was in your periciphal.
Lately, you heard rumors of a man selling contraband, and you had tailed him for quite a while, gathering information through a period of patience, and eventually it all came to this, the restraint would eventually reward you, for you cannot solely strike one for assumptions or rumors that may have been fabricated to benefit someone else, to let them leave the bad light they were put in. Your feet glided across the pavement, the gushes of wind passing the black hood that framed your features, keeping sand from intruding your vision. It was difficult to see clearly with all of the individuals passing by, but it provided to be opportunity to cloak you as you blended in perfectly, drawing less attention, and it would give you more chance to seize the man that had committed such atrocities. Your eyes narrowed slightly as you followed, subtly so, following the long street in Masyaf before the man took an abrupt turn to the right, venturing into a building that lay quite remote, and posed to be a merchant’s store.You knew something was not right, it felt ominous and a shiver ran down your spine.
Nearing closer, the building appeared almost impenetrable, it had barely any windows you could slip into, and there was no open roof either. The only way in, and out, was the door, which may provide to be problematic. Softly, you breathed through your nose, lips pressing together as you approached, following swiftly after your target. What you observed within those walls was absolutely horrifying- there were several women shackled to the wall, covered in little rags of clothing that only just covered the neccesary parts- but the worst of all, they were all covered in painful bruises and cuts. The man posed to be a merchant, but it was a veil for a slave cartel. The stench of stale blood invaded your nose, though it having little affect, you had to swallow to focus again, you were here for a reason after all, and you needed to end that man’s crimes today. It could not prolonge any longer, not anymore, not after what you had observed.
The man in question was rather chubby, wore a long brownish robe, and was bald, standing further inside the building, inspecting one of his female slaves. This was your chance. Idling no longer, you proceeded with caution, taking your longsword from its place and eventually sought to jerk it forth with a sharp motion, although, as you had hoped for a painful screech and blood, your sword was blocked by another. You were a few feet away from your target, and you made approach to attack, but giving the fact you were stopped by someone, it annoyed you all the more, considerably so that the slaver ahead was thankfully still unaware of the clash behind him. What perverted thoughts that man must have to be so oblivious to what happened behind him.
Instantly, your senses kicked in, feet spreading, one knee bending slightly to keep balance as you used your accomodating hand to pressure the blade, trying to overmaster the other, but it proved to be a stenuous struggle. Sweatbeads formed over your forehead, your eyes narrowed tightly, and your teeth grinding in frustration. You kept silent, no, you were not one to speak unless neccesary, as even your voice may be cause to validate your identity in the future. The other, however, did not do the same, the man wore white robes, a brown leather belt, and the robe was parted at the front to keep his legs free for amble movement. Damn, you knew exactly what you were dealing with. It was a signature outfit from the Assassins.‘’Tell me why you have come to take my target’’, he demanded, the voice threatening, making your heart thump even faster inside your chest that was already trying not to be hit by the other’s sword as you were pushed back, leaving space between the two of you, though weapons were at ready.
Timid, you gradually began to feel like such, and your thoughts were once again trying to consume your mind, but you stilled, trying to compose yourself and your breathing, panting lowly, you eventually shook your heard. Fighting with an assassin would surely, if not maybe, end up with both nearly dead, and that wasn’t the chance you were willing to take. You had tracked this merchant for months, and all of it would be in vain. Instead of proceeding the fight, you simply ran, bashing the assassin aside and moving your sword to impale the merchant who was about to turn around at the little of sound he had taken in. The longsword raked through the layers of clothing, through the tissue of the skin and eventually through the heart that stopped its beating. The man fell to the ground with a heavy thud of impact, causing a light tremor as you pulled the sword out, bending over the man as you looked down at him, your voice a whisper. ‘’Disgusting’’, you only were able to articulate as you closed the man’s eyes with your digits, offering him rest now his soul was with his gods, if they would take him.As you turned, another blade was pressing against your chest, forcing you back against the wall as the assassin’s stare remained buried into your own eyes. Hitting the wall was painful, but it was cold and gave you an unsettling feeling, but you would not falter now. Victory was at your hand, and no matter what would occur now, you had killed an abomination that could no longer threaten Masyaf, and these slaves would be free to return to their homes after a doctor had attended to them. Amber eyes remained glued onto yours, making you struggle, the sword within your hand still as blood dripped from it, moving onto the floor and creating a small puddle. ‘’Answer me, or I will leave you no choice’’. The voice certainly had its allure, for a man’s voice, naturally, it was distinctive unlike any other voice you had heard, either from man or woman. ‘’Tell me now! I am running thin on patience’’. Somehow, your lips turned into an amused smile, tilting your head. The little light that shone upon the assassin’s features now became clear, it was hardly amusing now. This was Altaïr Ibn-La’Ahad. You had watched him before, seeing him run across the rooftips, taking down guards even when he was one against five, he was impressive. You cleared an apparent thump in your throat, reconsidering your actions, though you remained silent.
It hadn't been long, a few months, atleast, since the Eternal Alliance became victorious on Zakuul. The former Sith Emperor, Valkorion, had finally been destroyed, completely, and it brought relief to everyone's mind, especially towards the Commander of said Alliance. He was the one that had to endure the perpetual torment on a daily basis as the emperor spat his acid words to him; tried to lure him to the dark and shape him into what he wanted him to be: some kind of pawn. But it never worked, infact, all his attempts were completely in vain and that never sat well with the Sith. It made him all the more insolent towards the mercenary, and through that, tried to elicit the darker thoughts of the man, all in hope he'd turn on his allies, or let Valkorion consume him completely. But now, his reign was over.
It was calm again in Odessen, for once. After the battle, and the damage Vaylin had caused, they had eventually made the repairs, but some could still see the cracked walls and artillery, not to mention the losses of the people that fought with them against the Empress' forces. But with war comes sacrifice: everyone in the Alliance knew what they signed up for. Both Republic and Imperial, even as the few Mandalorians and mercenaries that found their way to the base in hope to aid - and that they did. The commander was rather pleased that some of his brothers and sisters had joined him in the battle, along with another one that had helped him for years now: Torian Cadera. He was a fierce one in battle, and he would never submit to mocking imprisonment. Unfortunately, the battle also had taken the life of the Twi'lek, Vette. Many still mourned, and that was natural, everyone took their time to recover.
Being a Mandalorian was important to the Commander: he had been one as long as he could remember: it was more meaningful than being a bounty hunter without morals or goals. He finally felt the embrace of purpose when they accepted him, and now, leading so many people that trust him and come to him when times are dire: he could never let them down. All in all, he had his responsibility, and he also had his concerns when he had to make choices that would affect the lives of thousands. It weighed heavy on his mind sometimes, more than Valkorion's words did at times - but even with his voice gone, the hunter often imagined he heard the whispers of the man in his head again: figments of his imagination prying back at his brains. He had to separate reality from fiction, and that was no easy task. It was another sleepless night he spent in his quarters at the base, consumed by thoughts of the past events and the deaths that were taking its toll on him. It goes without saying that he was accustomed to death, more than some, but now the deaths were of people that had devoted to him, and counted on him, but despite that, he couldn't blame himself entirely.
He sighed in mild frustration as he pushed himself up from his bed and sat on the edge, running a hand through his jet black hair that became even more of a mess. He turned on few lights in his room as his bronze eyes scoured around, eying the ornaments on the walls, and the accommodations he had earned. One was a plaque of the Great Hunt, along with some Mandalorion ones, and a few regarding his service to the Imperials and so on: there were too many for his taste, but he loved drowning in achievements. They made him feel good, powerful if anything, and he needed that constant reminder to reassure himself that he actually did all those feats. Even if he came across like an arrogant, selfish bastard at most times, his closest allies, such as Lana and Theron, had seen his softer side when it came to protecting his people, and he even threw himself on a suicide mission a couple of times to save them - luckily, that worked out. He shook his head as he thought about it, only to raise himself up and stretch himself some from the sedentary position he had been in. Sleeping wouldn't help right now, and staying in his quarters would drive him mad, no matter the things he could do there. He had no urge to work on datapads regarding Alliance missions - he'd let Theron do that. As he finally suited himself up in his gear again, he headed outside, out to the docking bay where his old ship was stationed.
The sky was dark, yet stars lit up, millions of them, and it made for a soothing scenery. He folded his arms briefly before leaning over, on the bannister to relieve himself from the weight of his heavy armor: it was a golden-yellow, reinforced and made from the best material he could wish for: beskar. It had missile launchers on his shoulderpad, and on his gauntlets. And that was just one thing he liked to brag about to some who'd envy him. It also had a stealth field generator and his armor was also resistant to blaster damage and lightsaber damage, which worked out mostly against force users in battle. Even the local wild life was silent, which caused him to think again. Could everyone sleep, except for him? He gripped the cold metal with his hands and eventually relaxed his digits again after his frustration ebbed away again. That was, untill he heard footsteps approach from behind him. It was getting closer, and closer, and he couldn't be more paranoid, even in his own base. His hands ached to get back on the triggers of his blasters, his heart squeezing together as the anticipation rose: his breathing ragged as his curiousity was sated by a deep voice.
''Commander. I did not think you would be awake this late. Might I ask why you are, if it is not a bother?''. Blasted. It was him. He had to get out of this somehow, and he didn't want to argue or deal with this, not right now. He moved his gaze to the force-user, eying him sternly - or so he imagined, considering he was wearing his old-fashioned Mandalorian helmet. His hands slipped from the bannister and he turned frontal to the other, folding his arms again, as per usual, and assumed his usual indolent stance. What could he say? That he couldn't sleep because of everything that had happened, or that he was outside, in the middle of the night, to see his ship again? He wouldn't fall for that. Arcann was too shrewd for that. Shit.
---------------------- ARCANN ROMANCE IS EXISTANT. YES! THANK YOU, BIOWARE!
My name is Nathan, and I am a transgender male. I'm not sure what to write here. I'm 22.
I enjoy writing fanfiction and reading stories. These stories mostly revolve around the things I like.
I, for one, enjoy action movies, adventure/fantasy, sci-fi and horror. Mostly the latter, though.
There's a few fandoms I have on my list:
Marvel - such as FrostIron, Thorki, Iron-Spider, etc. Assassin's Creed, Mass Effect, Harry Potter (Drarry), The Evil Within, Resident Evil. You'll see much more if you scroll down my page
When I'm in the mood, I draw, but I'm not a pro, so don't expect mind blowing art here. However, you can check out my stories below!
Pizza is life. I hate tomatos, onions and some vegetables aswell.
What more to add.....- I'm awkward at social interaction.
If you got questions, please, don't hesitate to ask.
I'm not a fan of lesbians, or manly women who look like they're Dwayne Johnson with boobs. ( Overwatch Zarya for example..Tracer annoys the fuck out of me too.) Let me clarify though, I do not -hate- lesbians. I simply find that many people, in many games, play a female simply to get off themselves and having their female be a lesbian. I like depth - if it makes senses and it's realistic, by all means, be lesbian, but don't be the stereotypical lesbian because you're a straight male and it gives you the hots.
For those struggling within LGBT, watch this video! Your life is valuable!
Find my Fanfiction at www.fanfiction.net/u/6184017/T….
Archive of Our Own: archiveofourown.org/users/TheB…
Ruvik x Sebastian: www.fanfiction.net/s/10859892/…
Zevran x Fenris: www.fanfiction.net/s/11955626/…
Altaïr x Male Reader: www.fanfiction.net/s/12109300/…
[OC Darren] x [OC Saren]: www.fanfiction.net/s/11260609/…
Jacob Frye x OC (You): www.fanfiction.net/s/12212786/…
Iron Man x Spider-Man: www.fanfiction.net/s/12919455/…
Leon Kennedy x Jake Muller: www.fanfiction.net/s/12658697/…
Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Gary ''Roach'' Sanderson: Soon!
I fucking love Gavin Reed and Connor xD
My favourite games:
Fable 1 (2 & 3)
Mass Effect: 1 ,2 and 3.
Dragon Age 1,2 and 3.
Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic.
Star Wars: The Sith Lords.
The Evil Within.
The Witcher 2.
World of Warcraft.
Saints Row 2.
Resident Evil 5/6/7
Dead or Alive.
Warframe. [Xevanoid is my character].
Star Wars: The Old Republic. [Javain and Dral'naast]
My favourite male characters:
Jacob FREAKING Frye.
Ghost, Aka, Simon Riley, from CoD:MW2.
Kaidan: Mass Effect.
Garrus: Mass Effect.
Jack of Blades: Fable.
Zevran : Dragon Age.
Fenris: Dragon Age.
Alistair: Dragon Age.
Iorveth: The Witcher 2.
Ruvik: The Evil Within
Stefano Valentini: The Evil Within 2.
Soap McTavish: Call of Duty.
Altaïr : Assassin's Creed.
Ezio: Assassins' Creed.
Leon S.Kennedy: Resident Evil.
Jake Muller: Resident Evil.
Raiden : Metal Gear Solid / Revengeance.
Boba Fett: Star Wars.
Scorpion: Mortal Kombat.
Edward Cullen: Twilight. Yes, I'm a huge Robert Pattinson fan.
Anakin Skywalker: Star Wars. Yes, I'm a big big Hayden Christensen fan.
Draco Malfoy: YES. TOM FELTON PLEASE. <3
Arcann: Star Wars: The Old Republic. NOM NOM NOM.
Loki: Tom Hiddleston Avengers/Thor. \o/ I freaking love him...I swear I now love him more than Draco/Other Tom..(Felton) Don't hurt me please..xD
Damon FUCKING Salvatore: Vampire Diaries. IAN SOMERHALDER. <3
Reaver. Fable 2&3
Iron Man/ AKA Tony Stark!
Favourite female characters:
James Kidd/Mary Read.
Liara: Mass Effect.
Tali: Mass Effect.
Ayane: Dead or Alive.
He's...so so cute.
And his dad...WHY? (even if he changes his mind, good dad of him..;3)
Best Dorian Cosplayer.
Raiden is my second bae'...mainly because Lynch is 80% him.
Third Bae'.. Sorry Fenris and Zevran...
Leon S. Kennedy. Fourth Bae.