A Templar, an Assassin and Templassin walk into a musebox

[givetheslip]

Then Gandalf told them to watch their feet, they're about to trip.

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[carpedeum]

If he'd expected something after death, it hadn't been what he'd gotten.

Here, in some strange land with a city built more strangely than anything he'd ever seen, Robert had evidently been granted a second chance at life, though this was a subject he was still debating. It hadn't been very long since his arrival, and even for a man who left little room for doubt in his existence, the whole affair was ... unsettling, at best. He'd done what he could to adapt, and waited for any opportunity to get real answers to present itself.

Though there had been some walls in the way of that, when certain familiar faces showed themselves ...

Which, at the moment, was a secondary concern. Evidently this land after death had its own fair share of war and strife, and what had been a respite in one of its outer rings had turned into chaos when an invasion of something broke through the walls and attacked. Not unarmed but overwhelmed, he - along with certain others - had fled, and now, finally having made his way out of the insanity, he paused at the sealed battlements and looked over the losing battle in the streets far below. Already the city itself was arranging soldiers, calling on all its newfound citizens to stand and do battle. He intended to, as soon as they weren't facing odds quite so insane.

After a moment, he glanced back, mouth thinning into a scowl. And then, of course, there were those two ...

[givetheslip]

Nine years and God knew how many miles away from home, Maria had long since stopped being surprised at the unexpected, unlikely changes life brought her, both good and bad. She'd seen and done enough to keep from being overawed by any of them, yet she could not help but think there was something odd about her own response to this particular turn of events—specifically, that she was more astonished and aggravated that the three of them found themselves here together again than she was that this strange land existed at all.

Some would say what brought them here was sorcery. Altaïr might not have a name for it, but she was certain he'd want to learn more about it. Maria called it a damned nuisance, but for now she was glad enough for the diversion of potential battle. Anything short of a mortal wound could only be less unpleasant than this.

She cast a glance at both of them, quickly turning away when she nearly caught Robert's eye.

"Their forces will hold for a little while, at least," she said after a few moments, making a judgment with an experienced soldier's eye. "But not so long we can afford to rest."

im sorry im trash but i am now trash that is tagging

[agestocome]

"The rangers have not returned," Altaïr added. Preoccupied as he was with watching the chaos below, he still managed to keep an eye on the Templar beside them. The man bled red and white at the edge of his focus even now, which had not made their flight from the outer city any less harrowing, surrounded as they had been by enemies more intent on their deaths.

He had thought that the time they had spent within the city would have lessened his animosity, allowed him to see Robert de Sable as less of a threat, perhaps even an ally, but apparently it wasn't going to be that easy. He would have been lying if he said he hadn't thought about being the one to offer a truce, for Maria's sake as well as to satisfy his own curiosity, but such thoughts rarely survived contact with de Sable himself.

There was no reason to think of such things now, however, nor time. He shifted and turned to look out at the fields beyond, which had been reduced to a muddy swamp from the press of orcish feet. Most of which were now within the city. "They were due back today. The steward is no doubt hoping to trap the army within the walls until reinforcements arrive."

It was a shrewd plan, suited to the steward, and it would lead to the deaths of many civilians. He found himself glancing to Maria, hoping she found that idea as repellent as he did.

[carpedeum]

It had been ... questionable, his progress dealing with his protege - former protege - and the man responsible for his death and their apparent lack of animosity toward each other. There was some sense of hurt at the fact that evidently, Maria had departed from the order and joined the brotherhood after his death, rather than striking back or at least moving on with their will as he had imagined she would, but at the same time, he had never been under any illusions that the other high-ranking Templar saw her in the same light he did.

It had been their loss, he'd always figured. Until now, when time had apparently turned things down a path that blindsided him completely. They were practically friendly, and that kept him from being able to extend a truce of his own toward Altaïr even now. At least there were more important things to focus on, at the moment, and after they spoke he turned his eyes back to the low-burning chaos below.

"Which would work," he said, eyeing the massed ranks of the enemy, "if these were men. But all we've seen says they're not. They do not seem to rest. Or eat. They only become restless, and then destroy all in their way."

Where he would have no problem letting those trapped die in order to save the lives of those living on higher ground, this was a pointless loss of life considering what they were fighting. The damned things would just climb the walls without cease until they were all cut down, or everyone else was. And with no rangers to bring back reports, or reinforcements of their own, the situation only looked more and more bleak ...

A standard day, he supposed, fingers curling around the battlements a little more tightly. No better or worse than the Crusade.

"We may have to make inroads on this ourselves," he said dryly, not relishing the idea. If only they could get enough men together for an actual assault, but too many were dead, or unprepared.

[givetheslip]

If there were anything amusing about the situation, Maria would laugh at the notion of the three of them discussing strategy—A Templar, an Assassin and something in between; two who'd fought to the death, and one who'd tried.

It was absurd, but the most ridiculous thing was that the three of them had enough tactical knowledge and skill at war between them that she couldn't say they'd make a bad group, if they could keep their personal quarrels more or less at bay. So far, they had, but she was not optimistic for the long-term future.

"They are not men, but they will die like men," she said, putting a hand to the hilt of her sword and squeezing. "We've already seen they can do that."

Was it foolish, to think that those already in the thick of it were simply not experienced or trying hard enough, and their force of will would make the difference? Still, if the alternative was to lay their arms down and accept defeat, she would embrace foolishness. But before she could muse on the notion further or set it aside, there was a sudden shout.

okay everyone roll initiative

[agestocome]

"They wage war like men. If they seem relentless, it is because they fear the master behind them more than the enemy ahead. Nothing more."

He dismissed the idea of adding that, given that until scarce days ago de Sable had never seen him eat or sleep, the same could be said for him. There would be time later for debating the nature of whatever it was besieging the city. For now, the topic was strategy, and of the three of them, he was the least familiar with pitched battle. A failing all three knew. His skills were almost useless from here. There were no neat solutions; the force was too far for him to make out any leader or faction that they could aim for. Even so, he leaned out again.

"How do you suggest--"

It was a close thing as to whether he or the goblin were more startled as the latter appeared from the ramparts; both shouted warnings, certainly, but whilst the creature struggled to yank its climbing hooks from the rock before it was swarmed by its friends, Altaïr was free to act. De Sable was out of his reach, but Maria was close enough that he could catch her by the surcoat and jerk her towards him and away from a second goblin, even as his sword snapped out and took the first in the throat.

The third and fourth...

uses the wrong die and rolls a four

[carpedeum]

Yes. They died like men - wretched, desperate, bleeding, and still very dangerous, in his experience. He'd seen men go down at the hands of one of them that had arrows buried in its throat. It had been unsettling and enlightening all at once.

He glanced at Altaïr with a faint scowl, wondering if there had been a hidden snide remark somewhere in there, but his attention was drawn away from their old disagreements as a goblin suddenly appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. In an instant Robert had moved back, hand curling around the hilt of his sword; the boy dragged Maria away in time to spare her from a sudden attack, but it was clear from the expressions on everyone's faces that this had not been expected for either side.

His movement hadn't come a moment too soon. The next two goblins scrambled onto the ramparts, reaching for blades that surely would have found his throat had he still been watching the chaos below. Instead he managed to cut them down before they could cover any distance, blade swinging out and across. One tumbled back, falling to an already inevitable death. The other crumpled forward, and the sounds of yelling and scrabbling brought Robert keen awareness that there were more of these things coming up to attack.

"This is familiar," he snarled, more to himself than to Altaïr. He elbowed a new arrival in the face and sent it crashing down onto the goblins below it. "Wretched beasts climbing the walls to kill me - " A hook nearly caught him in the arm as more of the things made their way onto the walls, now alerted to the fact that there were enemies waiting for them and much more ready for a fight.

Maria always rolls a natural 20

[givetheslip]

One way or another, Maria had known the battle would find its way to them again, or vice versa, but a sudden sneak attack on the battlements was not what she'd imagined. The sudden jerk sideways would have sent most others nearly off their feet, but she recovered her balance in a heartbeat and was already drawing her sword as Altaïr sprang into action.

She was the last to join the fray, but the ease with which she cleaved a goblin in two left no doubt as to whether she was as dangerous as her companions. There was a certain satisfaction in it that she hadn't felt in long months; while Maria did not consider herself an inherently violent person, her work as a Crusader had been one of the first things she was ever truly good at. She knew battle, whether for good or for ill.

But that didn't guarantee her safety, or anyone else's. The surge of the foul creatures only grew as the fighting began in earnest, and they had their choice of targets. Maria stepped in to dispatch a particularly determined goblin that was making for Robert's back and sent it off screeching and bleeding.

That was familiar, too—fighting by his side, protecting him as a good steward should. She'd done it without thinking. It seemed some things didn't change, no matter how much she had.

The petty griping, though, that was new. "Is this really necessary?" She spoke through gritted teeth, glancing at one man, then the other. Altaïr had done a better job of holding his tongue, but she was under no illusions that he'd done so by way of a charitable attitude. "We are busy."

I need to stop writing tags at three in the morning

[agestocome]

If nothing else, the creatures were sloppy, uncoordinated and easy to intimidate individually. Their anatomy was close enough to a man's that he could aim his strikes just shy of an instant death; that slight twist after each stab or slash ensured his opponents knew that to target him was to die painfully. After several such grisly demonstrations, the goblins had started to hesitate long enough that he could glance back over at the other skirmish bare metres away.

He used to sneer at the heavy, sweeping attacks of the Templar Knights, thinking them slow and ponderous. They committed their strength to every swing where the momentum of a lighter blade could shift from feint to strike; they were easily overextended, lured into attacks that left them open for desperate seconds, and that rhythm had saved his life repeatedly. But during that brief lull, as he instinctively noted where and when he could strike, Maria was simply there to close the gap. No wonder she found the training yards of Masyaf odd: all her experience was in fighting as part of a greater melee.

In that moment before he had to turn back to his own battle, he acknowledged, privately and with the absolute certainty of hindsight, that if he had ever faced them together during his Hunt, he would have been the one to fall. For all he hated the man, the time and effort he must have taken to train Maria into not just a steward but a living - and willing - shield was staggering. But then, that ability was why he had raced to Arsuf, and why Robert had had to die.

It didn't make him or his insults any less palatable, or her satisfaction in her successful defense any easier to watch. His objection died in the face of Maria's expression, though his next opponent, an enterprising mud-soaked thing with one good eye, received a particularly vicious flurry of blows that more than conveyed his opinion of the entire situation.

[carpedeum]

Necessary, of course not, but there hadn't quite been time enough here for Robert to really deal with the fact that the insolent boy who had rashly confronted him in Solomon's Temple had killed him and was now here, older and wiser. It drove him to petty undertakings, which was ridiculous, and yet at such an opportunity ... but Maria was sensible, and so he held his tongue when Altaïr made no response, glancing back over his shoulder in a moment's gratitude as he saw Maria's blade cleaving one of the beasts in two before it slashed at his spine.

Instead, like Altaïr, he channeled any annoyance and anger into his fighting, ducking under another strike and jerking back, his elbow meeting the face of one goblin's attempt to sneak around for another backstab with a crunch. It reeled and he swung, catching another as it lunged toward Maria when she was otherwise occupied with yet more, and at that point he scanned the further points of the battlements and realized that for however well they were holding their own here, more were coming up - far more than they would be able to fend off alone.

Siege weapons. This place was rife with old ones, broken down and useless, because it had been so assured of its impenetrable defenses that they'd left most to rot. The only useful ones - burning oil and pitch - had been on the outer walls, not these inner ones. What little was left to them here were one tier higher. They needed to move up.

"Get to the ladders," he called, to try and be heard above the growing din of attacking and dying monsters. "We can flood them back to the ground from up there!" Rainwater had collected high up. Whatever wasn't washed away by the loosed barrels would be easy to pick off.

[givetheslip]

Immediately obeying Robert's orders was something Maria apparently had grown out of, but a quick glance at the growing fray and then upward was enough to confirm in her mind that his suggestion was the best option.

She spat out a curse as another goblin attempted to take advantage of her distraction and lost a clawed hand for it. Another sharp reminder that their current tactics would only work for so long—eventually, they would tire or their enemies would get lucky.

"Go!" She shouted at the two of them. "I'll bring up the rear!" Maria had no intention of remaining behind any longer than necessary, but she and her sword could help ensure Altaïr and Robert were not dragged down while their backs were turned, and hopefully they would be able to do the same from above when it was her turn.

However her allegiances had shifted, she did not want to see anyone die this day.