View Full Version : Official Assassin's Creed Fan Fiction Thread

09-12-2012, 03:14 AM
Hey everyone!

It has come to our attention by the amazing dedication of our Assasin's Creed fans that The Official Assassin's Creed Fan Art/Fan Movies Thread (http://forums.ubi.com/showthread.php/342269) needs to be expanded.

So without further ado we bring you the Fan Fiction thread. :D

If you have stories you'd like to share with the community or a link to you personal fiction blog etc, please post them here. As always, please ensure they remain consistent with the Forum Rules.

AC Forum Team

09-15-2012, 04:30 AM
Black_Widow9, i guess everyone ignored you.... could you close the old thread? :p

06-29-2013, 06:58 AM
Since Black Widow keeps posting a link to this thread, I'm dumping all my Tumblr-inspired yaoi incest Mary Sue gamer girl gets sucked into AC crap here.


I'm particularly proud of The Tyranny. I actually made Deadmond a character, albeit a crap Tumblr-induced character.

06-29-2013, 08:32 AM
Connor's Requiem is amazing. I haven't read it all yet, but man, Chapter 3 is awesome, even if you call it filler at the end.

06-29-2013, 10:47 AM
My Fan fiction

AC is all about Ezio (http://i2.kym-cdn.com/entries/icons/original/000/007/423/untitle.JPG)
AC II is the best (http://www.reactiongifs.com//wp-content/gallery/no/ummm-no.gif)
Connor is boring (http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y202/egregious_girl/gifs/movies%20and%20telly/the%20daily%20show%20and%20colbert%20report/23lh4bbjpg.gif)

06-29-2013, 11:09 AM
I have read a great "what if" fan fiction if Desmond had somehow resisted his compulsion to kill Lucy in the temple. Check it out.

06-29-2013, 04:08 PM
There are a bunch of fanfics I really like

An oneshot about Connor's life after AC3

An alternate take on the fight between Haytham and Connor during the end of AC3

An interesting AU with Haytham

AU after ACB, in which Desmond didn't fall into a coma.

There are more, but I can't remember right now.

And I'm reading The Minstrel's revenge right now, and I can't stop laughing.
The holy order of minstrels, ahahaha xD

"Not to mention, a Minstrel never forgets his natural instincts." Ezio reached into his pouch and threw some money on the ground. Instantly, a primal urge overcame Rigatoni and he bent down and scooped up the money.
"Coins!" He screamed over and over again in eagerness.

I just lost it x'D

06-29-2013, 06:51 PM
Kaschra, keep bringing those if you can find more. Whenever I search the fanfiction site for good AC fanfiction It's so rare to find some that are actually good.

06-29-2013, 07:19 PM
Kaschra, keep bringing those if you can find more. Whenever I search the fanfiction site for good AC fanfiction It's so rare to find some that are actually good.
Sure thing, if I find something good, I'll post it here :)

Chaining Shadow
06-29-2013, 07:51 PM
Assassin's Creed V The Pieces of Eden
I'm working very hard on it. And with the holydays comming up you can expect a lot of updates in the story.
Feel free to Read, Leave a comment, share and other stuff
You can follow me on Social Media. the links to the social media sites will be on FanFiction.net
Ceck it out!

06-30-2013, 01:26 AM
PROBLEM SOLVED! The Assassin's Creed V The Pieces of Eden story is now online on fan fiction. here is the link: Hip Hip, Huray!
Awesome! Thank you. I've sent you PM to answer your question also. ;)

06-30-2013, 04:10 AM
Connor's Requiem is amazing. I haven't read it all yet, but man, Chapter 3 is awesome, even if you call it filler at the end.
Wouldn't you much rather read about Desmond introducing Haytham to fanfiction?

07-02-2013, 11:18 AM
Your all fanfics are really great. but i like some these......

KIBA S NEW LOVE By: Musicman77 - Romantic
90 DAYS WITH YOU (http://www.liveluvcreate.com/fanfiction/book/90_days_with_you-1545.html) By: joosssiiiieeeee - Romantic
and many more

07-02-2013, 09:32 PM
Chapter 21 of The Tyranny of King Desmond has been finished. For now, it is the unofficial ending until I can think of more stuff to hack out.

Some excerpts:

Desmond had difficulty deciding what to eat for lunch. It wasn't Taco Tuesday, certainly, and even if he was in the mood for some *bleep* cuisine the booth had been barred up and unemployed for three days now. Heh, the health inspector probably swung around recently and put those *bleep* out of business. Desmond always swore that their double sour cream spicy beef tacos weren't using cow and maybe he had been confirmed. Pizza then, maybe, but Desmond than scanned the local booth and his eyes dropped and his soul drooped to mere centimeters of wasted hope as he saw the giant line. By then, there would be no more fresh slices, and he would be stuck with the week-old anchovy apple. He could maybe order a small personal pizza perhaps, but then he would have to wait and when he did get his pizza he knew that one slice would fill him up and someone else would always mooch the rest of the slices off of him before he could store them in his fridge. So Japanese food it was, then.

He went to the Japanese food booth, Szechuan Wok. He filled his Styrofoam takeout box with a variety of Japanese dishes: Kung Pao chicken, dry-fried beef, and chow mein. He got a Mountain Dew with his meal, and tried to hit on the half-Japanese girl Melanie Lee who ran the cash register and also occasionally cooked. But she merely rolled her eyes and coldly forced his change into his palms without a hint of returning his burning passion.

"Got my copy of The Last of Us. I played through it during my breaks, much to Haytham's chagrin. He never saw the appeal of video games, he tells me. But even he grew interested as he watched me play. I wish that I could retcon my memory, experience as something new again and again. I had the time of my life with that game. First time in ages that I was motivated and pumped to replay. Bioshock Infinite failed at that, Uncharted 3 failed at that, even my own game failed at that. And Joel, he was someone that I could sympathize with. We've both gone through… a lot."

Somewhere beyond these confines, there was a great big tree that was struck by a bolt of lighting. The flames that ensued devoured the tree, leaving behind nothing but a pitiful sapling nearby, its next of kin. The great big tree that stood there before was decently loved by those who had watched it grow, but many had begged for much more. The lightning and flames that ensued enthralled them, and they were loved and had made sure that the flames had lasted for eons long and generations grew old and died before the fire was finally put out. The people as they buried the fathers before them were ready to move beyond the flames but the pitiful sapling was not what they had wanted. In their fury, the sapling was burned like its mother before it. To nothing but ashes. So they had left the ashes untended, scorned for lacking the majesty of its predecessors. Alone and forsaken. Until a wanderer came along. He saw in ashes something that he could identify with in himself. Perhaps it was the memory of losing his own mother. He knew was it was to be unloved, left alone to wallow with no help in sight. He pitied the ashes, innocence and potential of the sapling mishandled and lost to the catacombs of what might have been. So he took a box and he stored up all the ashes. They did not take up much of the space, but they felt heavy and accepted in the wanderer's arms. He took the box to a cliff overlooking the sea.

And as the wanderer lifted the cover of the box, the ashes fell but they did not fall into the loveless waters below. For a great wind came and carried them far, across seasons and revolutions. Perhaps a few seeds were remnant in the ashes, for where the ashes landed a great field of saplings bloomed. And as the world around them changed, the saplings grew more majestic in their splendor until from them a royal forest stood. But the world around them burned to the ground, and the forest was not spared. But as the ashes rose into the night sky, there was a vast light. The moon reigned in its luminance, and those who saw it felt something within themselves break. The ashes continued to fly upward in spirals and twirls, ascending higher and higher in escalating bliss until at last they reached a place beyond the clouds where the sky always was a peaceful shade of blue and the depression of the clouds and their rain never intervened. The darkness was long gone, and in their brave new world the ashes found the answers to mysteries and they learned of the things that not even Destiny knew. There, a new field of saplings bloomed, brilliant colors shapes and scents unknown to mortal sensations. All those who tasted the fruit they bore were enlightened.

And on one day, a small seed drifted down from the clouds. It landed somewhere, and from it, another great big tree grew. On the tree was a door that led to places unknown, worlds indefinite in an abyss lost to time. The wanderer came across the tree on one of his travels, and he noted the door. Perhaps he recognized them as the ashes from his travels when he felt the bark and leaves but perhaps he did not. The world was growing colder, darker as he had continued on his journey. He was hesitant about opening the door, but he knew that there was no one left to turn back too. The world he had known had long moved on. There was nowhere besides the door to continue to. And so he opened it, and his eyes were filled with ecstasy as he saw the splendor in front of him.

The wanderer looked back, and he saw nothing but shadows and falling snow. There was nothing for him back there, and his companions had long deserted him. No one wanted him here, but who knew what waited for him in the place beyond the tree? There, he might live forever. And perhaps people were waiting for him there.

And he passed through the door. And no feeling, no description, could some up the awe that awaited him in the place that lay behind the confines of death and destiny. It was a realm of dreams and delirium.

And the door closed behind him but even as the place where the great big tree lay was eclipsed by the tormentors of shadows and snow, more would come one day.

Chaining Shadow
07-10-2013, 09:30 PM
Hey everyone,
Models for cover posing and Story inspiration wanted! Please help me improving my story about Assassin's Creed V The Pieces of Eden.
And help my design its cover.
For the story: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/9439713/1/Assassin-s-Creed-V-The-Pieces-of-Eden
For helping me with the cover: http://forums.ubi.com/showthread.php/780322-Model-for-Assassin-s-Creed-V-cover-wanted!
Hope you like it and update soon!

08-20-2013, 02:09 AM
Achillies fanfiction :):

http://forums.ubi.com/showthread.php/784470-AC-Unwritten-Pages-Achilles-Davenport (http://forums.ubi.com/showthread.php/784470-AC-Unwritten-Pages-Achilles-Davenport)

12-24-2013, 06:05 AM
An exciting new Assassin's Creed fansaga.


This.....is not that fansaga!


Venice, 1493

The tale, lost to the ages, began at the square near the Campanile di San Marco and the Basilica. A small crowd was gathering in front of the stage and in the pews where a young minstrel nervously stepped up. His name was Carmelo Fausti da Forli. This was his big night, his debut. Ever since childhood, it had been his dream to become a man of music. His father, and his grandfather before, had all been failed composers. Carmelo could not compose music well, but he made up for that detriment with a spectacular ability of playing the instrument. He likewise was a prodigy with an angelic voice. When he had come of age just a year prior, he had departed the dreary cloud-cast skies of home upon a boat towards beautiful Venezia.

All eyes were upon him. Carmelo, as he readied his lute, looked up towards the red tower. He wondered what it would feel like to be something perhaps like a mighty eagle soaring aloft to heights as great as that and beyond. If everything went right at this performance, perhaps he would be flying up to join that eagle. His benefactor, a trader called Duccio de Luca, was present in the crowd and had been very generous in funding Carmelo's enterprises. He supposed that he would have to be grateful for Duccio's donations, but there seemed to be something shifty about the man. As if de Luca had ulterior motives. No time to worry now. It was time to begin.

He moved his right hand and began to pluck at the strings on the lute. As notes flowed into tunes and harmonies, he opened his mouth and added a beatific watercourse of melodious librettos.

"There's a signora who's sure all that glitters is oro
And she's buying a scala to paradiso.
When she gets there she knows, if the stores are all closed
With a word she can get what she came for.
Ooh, ooh, and she's buying a sc-"

"Stop this sciocchezze! I spend a year away from Italia in Spagna and this merda is what has overtaken beautiful Venezia?" Some strange man yelled out. The crowd, which had grown larger, parted to reveal a new arrival that Carmelo did not recognize. The man, with a thin beard visible, hid his head underneath a black hood. Draped around his shoulder was a blue cape, with a gold emblem and a black tip. His body was covered in shining metallic armor, his clothing alternating layers of red, black, and gray. The man was neither the tallest nor bulkiest in the crowd, but he emanated an authoritative aura as he stepped onto the stage with his black boots.

"Cursed minstrels, the great pubblico peste, allowed onto performing stages once populated by Italia's finest actors and performers? I, Ezio Auditore da Firenze, shall not stand for this!" But before the man could act, to Carmelo's relief, many in the crowd began to argue in defense of him.

"He is not ordinary street spazzatura minstrel! This one, Signore Auditore, has a certain fascino to him!" The crier cried out, who had been lured from his usual spot. "Let him play, for he is still young!"

"And why should I do that?"

"Just think of this as a favor for every time me and my fellow criers have taken your bribes and said nothing when you stole our money from us afterwards!"

"Fine." Ezio scowled and crossed his arms. He stepped back. Carmelo breathed a sign of relief, and started playing again. He decided to begin anew with a different song. He observed that even this Ezio had begun to slowly applaud as he played.

"Mamma, just killed a man,
Put a stiletto against his gola,
Moved my hand, now he's dead.
Mamma, life had just begun,
But now I've gone and t-"

He heard a shrill whistle somewhere in the crowd. All of sudden, there was the explosion of several smoke bombs all around the stage! The crowd screamed, and ran away in a frenzied panic.

"What demone's tradimento is this?" Carmelo demanded as his ruined performance began to dawn on him.

But Carmelo had already been forgotten, as the attention shifted. Numerous guards, dressed in the same purple as his benefactor Duccio, were rushing at Ezio with their weapons drawn. Calmly, Ezio lifted his arm and something fired from beneath his sleeves. One of the guards collapsed and as the others surrounded him, he unsheathed a sword.

And defeated them all. Then Ezio noticed something.

"Ah, Duccio. I should have known that you must have had something to do with this. Still sore about that time I beat you for cheating on dear Claudia WITH SIX DIFFERENT WOMEN AT ONCE?" Ezio began to advance towards Duccio stepping over numerous writhing or dead guards, who after witnessing his ambush go awry, was attempting to slip out unnoticed.

"Err… salute Ezio! Bello verdetti!" Duccio was sweating, his face a burning shade of red. "Um… I had nothing to do with this! I was… just in town… in between trips from Roma for… for riposo e relaxtion! Yes! Nothing suspicious here, Ezio! They are wearing purple like me, eh? Coincidence, I say! Nothing but coincidenze!" Duccio continued to step back, his eyes nervously darting all over as if he were looking for a quick route to escape.

"Duccio, you have exactly five secondi to convince me so. And two have just passed." Ezio showed Duccio the hidden blades, popping them in and out in rapid succession.

"Um… um… DIO MIO! THAT MINSTREL OVER THERE JUST INSULTED DEAR CLAUDIA AND MARIA!" Duccio frantically pointed, jumping up and down.

"Che cazzo?" Ezio snapped, whirling and glaring at Carmelo.

Duccio continued to jump up and down. "Yes! Yes! That's him! Signore Colpevole standing right in front of you! He called humble Claudia a bastardo puttana and poor Maria unfit to sleep even with the mangiest of cani!"

Ezio snarled and dove at Carmelo. "N-n-n-no! It's all a misunder-" Carmelo sputtered just as Ezio tackled him to the street. Duccio whistled a great chortle of relief, and as Ezio was busily punching Carmelo's face, he hopped to a box near the stage. Many of the onlookers who had been watching Carmelo's performances had donated a sum to the young musician. Duccio looked one last time towards Carmelo, who was being slammed against the walls of the Campanile by Ezio and then scooped all the earnings into his own pouch.

"Perfetto! I love it when a plan goes senza problemi!" Duccio laughed as he walked towards the port where his boat to Roma lay.

Ezio, meanwhile, continued to beat the minstrel and heard, saw none of this.

He could feel blood, scorching and caustic, flowing down the numerous cuts on his forehead. Some of it flowed into his cracked eyes, partially blinding Carmelo. His legs were a dead weight, devoid of all feeling. His right arm was dislocated, and spasms of extreme agony shot through his shoulder if he tried to move it. A crack shot through the Venetian air as a heavy boot stomped on his knee. Carmelo screamed. Another kick. He felt several ribs give way and flesh loosen itself. A slash of the man's wrist blades. More skin sliced from his chest. Why! Why! demanded Carmelo in his mind. Why was this happening to him?

"Puh… puhlease… signora… why are you doing this?" Carmelo looked up. Ezio held his lute in his hands. Carmelo's heart dropped.

"Signora…. I spent a years' worth of earnings on that lute. Crafting it… loving it… perfecting i-" With a thwack, Ezio swung the lute into Carmelo's head. He heard the wood creak and break as it connected with his bloodied face.

"That was for Claudia, my dear sister."

Ezio tossed the lute aside. It had splintered into a mess of strings and wood.

"And this is for my mother, you figlio di una cagna!" Ezio kicked Carmelo one last time. His foot connected with the poor boy's neck. Carmelo slumped. A paper, slightly stained blood and roughened, slipped from a torn pocket.

"What?" Ezio said as he opened it up and read it aloud. "Dear Ezio, you stupido stronzo, if you are reading this I thought you might want to know something. It was actually I who insulted Claudia and Maria while you were fighting the guards. And yes, I did hire them to kill you in castigo for your insults to the de Luca legacy. So all you did was let me get away richer and perhaps kill an innocent boy! Hah hah – sincerely, your amico Duccio de Luca. P.S. – give Claudia my regards, idioti incestuosi."

Ezio tossed the letter aside. He bent down in front of the motionless Carmelo, and felt the place where he had kicked the neck. A pulse… barely noticeable but there. Ezio breathed a sign of relief, and brushed his head.

"Phew… for a second there I was worried that I had rotto il Credo!" Ezio then looked down again at the catatonic Carmelo.

"Um… I don't really know what to say here. This is the first time anything like this has happened to me." Ezio guiltily said in a sheepish tone. He reached into his pouch. "Here… sorry for the mess. I hope this fixes things between the two of us." Ezio tossed a whole bunch of money along with a half-eaten apple onto Carmelo. His eyes darted around wildly, and he ran off hoping none of his fellows in the city like Rosa saw what had just happened.

Hours later, as the sun began to set. The sky of Venice turned brilliant crimson like falling fire. Gondolas began to make their way back to their moors, settle in for the coming of night sky. Gulls squawked, flying overhead. Ezio Auditore enjoyed a very nice bistecca dinner with his friends Rosa and Antonio and the complementing cups of imported French wine. Far away, in his Vatican fortress, Rodrigo Borgia sneered as he planted his thorns deep within the soil. Girolamo Savonarola in the southernmost district of Firenze smiled as he looked over the Apple and readied his entrance. There was laughter, the clanging of hammers in the blacksmiths, the haggling between an art merchant and a customer. Drunken sailors waltzed up and down the piers with two courtesans in their arms who sung the unruly seamen praises. A thief swiftly snatched fruit from a stall and was off before the dealer noticed. Another drunk, sense of orientation fragmented beyond repair, stumbled into the canals. And near the Campanile, Carmelo weakly lifted his eyes open. There was the clicking-clacking of heels coming towards him. Fireworks went off in his head, millions at once. His body felt like it was ready to fall apart at all seams. Every one of his teeth felt loose. He dare not move. Movement would only bring more pain. He had lost all control of his body, his arms and legs remaining limp on the ground. With his back slumped against the red wall. Why was there an apple and all these florin on him? The bastard must have put them after he had finished… he would get Ezio Carmelo swore… make him suffer as he did… Then thoughts turned to his lute and rage turned to grief. His livelihood was destroyed… it would take him forever to craft another lute that equaled that one! His eyes blinked as he weakly turned them towards the broken instrument. Why had this happened to him? He felt like crying for his mother for consolation, to the Father Son and Holy Ghost for fire of vengeance. Someone was walking towards him. With a groan, he forced all of his strength into looking upwards. Exerting himself beyond his feeble limits, he felt silky black hair drape onto his wounded face. His blood-filled eyes connected with eyes of brilliant amber before the blinking grew more rapid. He felt all strength leave him. Sorry father, he thought. Sorry I could not be the one that made our family proud. Before the world around him turned dark, he heard a woman say something to him.

"Don't worry, Carmelo. You're amongst friends now. And we will help you get your revenge." Laughter.

Then nothing.

Florence, 1497

The Bonfire of the Vanities was in full swing. Across the city, caught in fervor by the incensed ramblings of the Mad Monk, the people of Firenze burned writings and artworks of the Renaissance – the vanities in the bonfire. Amongst these vanities included music and while many citizens had been caught up in the burning fever, there were those who were desperate to cling onto the joys that the Renaissance had brought. And during this hectic period, where nine lieutenants close to the Mad Monk placed in charge of the city mysteriously went missing, one greedy minstrel named Rigatoni Pesto sought to exploit the musically-starved for a few florins.

"And now, people. Here is a song!" He quickly scratched a few notes on an out of tune lute. Amidst boos from the crowd, Rigatoni swiftly dodged a rotten tomato tossed at him. He snatched a large, heavy bag filled with coin that he and his associate minstrels had forced the attendees at lute-point pre-show to fill up with all their valuables. "And now, here goes your florin!" Cackling with glee, his associate minstrels closed an iron gate as Rigatoni Pesto fled into the alleyway. He had stored horses near the city walls and he would flee to his cousin's in Tuscany until all this had died down and his act of villainy had become forgotten.

Everything was going to plan… until he bumped directly into the mysterious hooded man.

"This whole situation sickens me... to see beautiful Firenze reduced to such levels of patetico frenesia. I have spent the entire day running around the city, killing people and having to listen to their pathetic dying words, watch these sick beings try to justify their revolting actions. Truth be told… it makes want to punch someone who deserves it in the faccia! And it seems that Dio has chosen to answer my preghiere!" At this very moment, the Assassin Ezio Auditore da Firenze took out a broomstick and brandished it very menacingly.

The Minstrel burst out into laughter. "A mere manico di scopa? You think that can defeat me, the monarca of minstelli? Um…. MINSTRELS!" He cried out at the top of his lungs. Instantly, an entire battalion of fifty minstrels burst out of the nearest haystack. Their eyes were red, blood leaking from the eyelids, and they were sneezing uncontrollably, for after all, they were minstrels very prone to allergic reactions to hay and they had been hiding in that haystack for about a month waiting for Rigatoni Pesto to give that very order.

"Grazie Gesù! Fresh air at last!" One of the minstrels croaked before he dropped unconscious. The other 49 minstrels summarily followed in suit. Standing between Ezio and Rigatoni was an increasingly red sea of comatose minstrels.

"******* you, you ravioli-licking feticista famiglia! It shall take you forever to wade through my fallen compatriots though, so you shall never catch me!" Rigatoni proceeded to turn around, preparing to bolt the other direction only to see an angry mob covered in dead minstrel parts coming this way. Meanwhile, something wicked the other way came.

"This is what you get for your horrible excuse for a song!" Ezio roared as he snatched Rigatoni's lute from his hands. With broom in hand and lute in other, he swung both with ferocious strength into the sides of Rigatoni's knees. A crack filled the alleyway, echo ricocheting from wall to wall. The cheers of the crowd as they witnessed Ezio beat down the minstrel added to the chorus of passion. Tossing the lute aside, Ezio lifted the broom and repeatedly swung it down upon the minstrel's head. Soon, Rigatoni was weakly lifting his head, opening his mouth to let a flood of blood, loosened flesh, and teeth fall out. Soon after came acidic vomit, which Ezio swiftly dodged.

"And for my final trick, here is something no one can resistere!" He reached into his pack and tossed several florin onto the ground. The scattering of metal on the ground produced a unique sound that quickly reached the ears of the crowd. They scanned their eyes, and locked on the gold scattered across the near-broken body of the minstrel. Now, Rigatoni's body was about to become broken.

"Gold coins!"


"It's my lucky day!"

"Wait… noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo"

On that day, Rigatoni felt his manliness go pop pop pop as the crowd trampled over him for the coin in orgasmic passion. His voice would be reduced to levels of squeakiness that had been unheard of. And there had been a nearby discarded nail near his face. As someone stepped down, his left eye met the spike. His screams, so high pitched, eventually annoyed the crowd away. Rigatoni found himself unable to move, his bones all broken. He was covered in blood, his skin torn, and what was this white and yellow stuff upon him? It definitely was not milk and limonata! Crying pathetically, Rigatoni reached up the moon.

"Fly away…. fly away… I'll escape you…." and slipped unconscious.

On the rooftop above him, two figures looked down. One was a man who had recently left behind the boy, and the other a woman.

"I don't like him. He is a shameful disgrace to my former profession."

"Neither do I. But still, he is rather stupid. And we could use all the stupid, malleable manpower we can get. You do want revenge on Ezio Auditore, don't you?"

"Yes. More than anything."

"Good, Carmelo."

Monteriggioni, 1498

After defeating the mad monk Girolamo Savonarola, Ezio Auditore da Firenze triumphantly returned from the liberated Florence to his restful Tuscany stronghold: Monteriggioni. But the time for relaxation was scarce! For while he was busy in Forli slaying the Orsi brothers and then busier slaying Savonarola and his nine lieutenants who remained anonymous, his archenemy Rodrigo Borgia had ascended to the papacy! But Ezio was worried, no! He knew what he had to do. He would storm Roma and slay the man behind the death of Papa Auditore and his two bros at long last – yes, he totally would not have a sudden change of heart and become too mature for revenge since that would be a catastrophic mistake! Who would be boneheaded enough to leave their enemy, who was the most powerful man in all of Europa, alive? Especially if he headed the Templars, that other big EVIL! secret organization that battled the Assassins, a big secret organization who were totally GOOD! guys. Definitely not him, dashing Ezio Auditore!

One day, Ezio was admiring the paintings he had brought in Venice with money he had stolen from a cheating husband he had beaten up! On that day, he had heard rumors of a Templar plot to poison the water supply of a frontier town, but he knew that he had greater priorities than to investigate insubstantial chitchats! Yes, beating up otherwise innocent adulterers and delivering mail truly benefitted the Assassins much more than unwinding Templar schemes! As he gazed over a lady holding an ermine, he suddenly heard the voice of his uncle Mario calling for him.

"Ezio, come quick! Your inventor friend has once again shown his brilliance!"

Ezio rushed to the kitchen, where Uncle Mario was. He could hardly contain his eager excitement, that charming Ezio Auditore! Leonardo had cooked up so many fantastic contraptions for Ezio these past years! The double hidden blades, the hidden gun, and even the bombastic flying machine – oh golly, Ezio pulsed with exhilaration as he thought of whatever, oh whatever wonderful miracle Leonardo had crafted this time! But as soon as he stepped into the kitchen – his anticipation surely did plummet, that contemptuous Ezio Auditore!

"Che cazzo è questa merda?" Ezio demanded as he stormed to a table that had been set up. Leonardo set at that table, a great platter of food set up in front of him. Uncle Mario and sister Claudia sat by Leonardo's sides, smiling. "I come in thinking that you have invented an un'arma inarrestabile to use in the storming of Roma and I instead come in to find you playing with your food like a stupido idiota!"

"Come on now, nephew, give him a chance. Leonardo's genius need not be applied to violento pursuits."

"I know… but this… this is rifiuti!"

"Anyways, Ezio, it all started when I accidentally dropped my fork and your uncle clumsily stepped on it before I could pick it up." Leonardo began to explain, reenacting the scenario. "I was awfully distraught, as that was my last clean utensile. But then, I eyed these fresh loafs of bread that your mother had prepared. With quick thinking, and the aid of Mario's blade, we carved up two pieces of bread large enough to…"

Mario cut two slices from a loaf, in a circular shape. Not too thick, nor too wide. Leonardo took one of the slices, and he set it in front of him. On top he first added some of the vegetables on his plate – a slice of tomato, some onions, and a lettuce leaf. Next, he placed on top the produce a large slab of meat that was brown all over the exterior but pink throughout. On top the meat he put a hunk of provolone and covered it up with the other slice of bread. On both sides of the bread Leonardo had slathered mysterious red, yellow, and white sauces.


"What is that monstrosity?" Ezio asked, peering in disgust.

"I don't know what I shall call it yet. But I know that it will very well revolutionize the way that we eat our food!" Leonardo proclaimed and then stroked his beard in thought. "A-ha! I got it… I shall call it the Auditore, named after my good friends who helped me discover this innovation! Ezio, would you care for a bite of Il Formaggio Auditore?"

"Uh, I'll save it. Try it… later." Ezio motioned for a servant to come over. The two of them walked to the far end of the kitchen, out of Leonardo's earshot. "Throw this… this abominio to the pigs. I do not think that it is fit for consumption by anything greater."

"Anything useful, Leonardo? Like perhaps a hidden gun that fires spade?" Ezio asked.

"Well, after we had consumed our Il Formaggio Auditores, I sat down with your uncle and started thinking. Other than using it to cleanly consume our food when no utensils are available, what else could we use bread for? Then it hit me!"

Mario pulled out a disc of flat bread, very thin and wide. There was a thin layer of mozzarella and faint traces of tomato sauce. Sprinkled across the top of the cheese were various vegetables and meats.

"You know what I hate about plates after supper, Ezio? Cleaning them. But this innovazione shall insure no more fruitless struggles to get plates can again, for instead of washing upon the end of a meal you can simply consume the plate! And to streamline consumption, take a look!" Mario used his sword to cut the disc into eight triangular pieces of identical size. Leonardo took one of the pieces by the rim and took a bit of the tip.

"Eureka! Soon, we shall eliminate the needs for plates and silverware altogether."

Ezio shook his head. Without saying a word, he left his far more enthusiastic kin and Leonardo behind. He headed for the door. He needed some fresh air, after witnessing all this lunacy. What blasphemy was this? Bread used to hold other food which would be eaten by holding the bread and taking a bite? No, Leonardo definitely had not stumbled upon an innovation. It was nothing more than a fad of a madman, and one that was sure to die out. How could it last – eating food with fingers like that was barbaric! He would take a stroll around town, see how much it had grown before he departed to finish the business he had started when he put on his father's robes and assassinated the traitor Uberto Alberti. Perhaps a few rounds with his combat trainer and an inspection of the armaments on the walls. He would top it off with a visit to the brothels… but then he quickly waved that thought from his mind. After what had become of Christina in Florence… he would need a few months or so before he was ready for that sort of interaction again.

But all pleasant thoughts drifted from Ezio's mind when he saw what was right on the front porch of his mansion.

Five minstrels, each holding a different instrument in one hand and a bucket of paint in the other. When they saw Ezio, their eyes lit and shot up. The minstrel in the center stepped forward. There was some uncanny sort of familiarity that he evoked in Ezio as the Assassin laid eyes upon him. But the Assassin couldn't place exactly what it was. You see, Ezio had done "business" with many a minstrel and over the course of time they had all blended into a single amalgamation. He spoke with a shrill, high pitched voice, even higher than a squeaky young woman's.

"That's him, fellow menestrellli! The musical talent detractor who has made our collective lives un inferno vivente! Let's do this!"

He paused for dramatic effect. Then screamed so irritably and stridently that Ezio covered his eyes and swore louder than he had ever in his life.


Each of the minstrels then screamed something out, and when they did so, they lifted the bucket over themselves so that paint would envelop their entire body. According to writings which have since been forgotten and scattered amongst the dust, it went a little something like this. Fortunately for Ezio, the remaining four were of a normal pitch.

"Power of flute! Limoncello Digestivo, menestrello nero!"

"Power of gamba! Lasagna Bolognese, menestrello blu!"

"Power of cornamuse! Cappuccino Espresso, menestrello giallo!"

"Power of hurdy-gurdy! Aglio Salame, menestrello rosa!"

"Power of lute! Rigatoni Pesto, menestrello rosso!"

The five of them, dripping in paint, brandished their instruments menacingly as they tapped and hopped into formation.

"Minstrels Potenza... go go!"

And they rushed Ezio.

"Well, this day has certainly taken a turn for the surreal." Ezio commented as he drew out the Sword of Altair.

01-29-2020, 04:33 AM
Still a work in progress. Hopefully I can get it done sometime soon.
Anyway, here's part of the opening chapter:


Kameyo Hamasaki perched herself onto the branch of an old pine tree. She steadily moved out further, crouching to keep her gravity center. Keeping a secure balance of her feet, she surveyed the land around her. The winter landscape stretched on for miles, a clear blue sky accompanied with the afternoon Sun. Fresh snow crunching under its own weight. The freezing air was nipping at her face.
Kameyo took a moment to take everything in. She closed her eyes and let her senses take over for the moment. A shriek was heard from her right, her target soaring in the sky. Her prey. She stationed her body, pulling the bow she had brought along for the hunt. She looked into the horizon, and with her special skill, focused on the bird from a distance away.

Her target, the eagle, soared in the air, approaching closer to its hunter. Kameyo finally saw its white, feathery head, looking to the ground for a quick meal. “Closer”, whispered Kameyo as she locked on with an arrow. Arching the bow back, she controlled her breathing. Bettered her aim. In her head, she triangulated its position, predicted the projection of the arrow. She now had it for death.

The wind picked up, shaking the branch wildly. Kameyo began losing balance, swaying around uncontrollably. The branch began to strain under her weight, sinking lower. Letting go of the bowstring, the arrow prematurely shot off. Within an instant, the branch finally snapped and she plunged into a pile of snow below.

“Damnit!” shouted Kameyo in a fit of anger.

“You must always be aware of your surroundings,” a voice spoke from behind her.

Her uncle, Osamu Hamasaki, sat on horseback, observing the tree in which she fell from.

“I almost had him,” Kameyo spat. She struggled to prop herself out of the snowbank.

Osamu dismounted, pulling a sack from his side. From it, he pulled out a delectable red apple in which he held it out as an offering to the horse. Momentarily sniffing it, the horse then reached out with his buck teeth and snatched it from the hand. Osamu gently patted him his side, before turning to help Kameyo.

“You’re still learning,” he said as he reached out his hand to her. Taking his hand, she pulled up and out of the snow to stand upright. She hastily swiped off the remaining snow that clung to her robe. “You mastered the way of the sword. I’m confident, in time, you’ll master the bow too.”

Kameyo nodded, looking over at her Katana lying against a large rock. She remembered the past 5 years training under him, learning kenjutsu. Training in the same fashion as of her ancestors, she quickly grew in skill until this year when she was officially given a blade of her own. Her katana was more than just a personal item. It was a part of her, in her journey through life. She made a pact to herself to take care of it and to hold onto it for as long as she needed it. “I shall carry this blade unto my death,” she had sworn.
She walked over to her katana, knelt down to retrieve it. She slung the holster over her robe, in doing so gave a sharp pain to her arm.

“Kuso! It may seem, as though, I have broken my arm.”

Osamu laughed. “Come then. Grab your horse. We shall ride into town and get you a remedy.”
Kameyo walked off to a distance. Looking around she didn’t see him, as he surely wandered off while she had been preoccupied. Looking to the ground now, she saw a trail of blood leading to the river.”Watashi wa anta ga daijöbudesu negatte imasu” The blood stopped at the riverside, where Kameyo was relieved to see, not an injured horse, but the eagle she had sought earlier. It was lying flat in the snow, wallowing in its own misery. The arrow had shot clean through the wing, piercing into the body. The eagle gasp as it saw Kameyo approach, fending off despite the condition it was in.

“So you got him,” Osamu surveyed. “He’s suffering. Send him onward”

Kameyo kneeled down, observing the dying creature. It felt pain, like she did. She felt sympathy for him.

Osamu put his hand on her shoulder, ensuring her it was the right thing. “It has to be done.”

With that, Kameyo reached forward as the eagle struggled to fight her off. She took his necked and twisted it until she heard a pop. The struggling ceased. The pain in her arm was still there, but now dwarfed by a much bigger pain.

“Come, let us go forth now,” Osamu insisted.

The Sun grazed the snowy fields with its blaring light. The trees danced with the breezy wind. A wise owl slumber snug within his hole, soon ready to take the night. Hooves of two horses pounded the dirt beneath them, running adjacent to each other. Their riders looked to the road ahead.

Osamu broke the silence. “Do you know why it is that I have trained you for all these years? To turn you into the fighter you are today?”

Kameyo held the reins to her horse tight. She pushed past the pain in her left arm that plagued her still. She had never really thought about it much. At least not until it was mentioned. “You teach me how to use a sword. How to read, even English, from the books of the merchants. Now you show me the skills of the bow. Why is that? ” she pondered.

Osamu looked to Kameyo as she now clutched her arm in slight agony. “I must grow old, eventually. I need someone to take my place. The work I do is very important.”
Kameyo remembered the group Osamu confided with. The Portuguese merchants, a few preists, and even some native to the land. Their leader, a man by the name of Griffin, lead them to conspire plans. What those plans where, Kameyo had no clue. But she felt honored at Osamu’s request. To be invited in the secrets that he kept.

“I won’t disappoint you,” she reassured him.

“I know you won’t,” he added.