(OPEN) A Bit of a Run-in

Akilah was practically rushing her way into Masyaf Castle, wound on a shoulder and gasping for breath. Her cloak was almost tattered and she had the sole of a boot missing. She was given the task to deliver a message to some Assassins out in the field when on her way back she had a bit of a run-in with some Templars. If you looked closely on how she looked right now, she had a blood-stained sword and 3 missing throwing knives. She managed to take out most of them with only two overpowering her. The wound was deep, but luckily not enough to force the medics to amputate her. Either way, one thing was for sure. We have a wounded Assassin on our hands.

"Agh!" she cried out. "I need assistance! Please! NOW!" When no one seemed to answer, she still managed to make her way into the castle interior. Her teeth grit together and her eyes squinted. She headed towards a nearby bench, almost about to fall. Akilah managed to sit down and now she's left to wait for someone to help her get patched up. She was gasping for air, her left hand covering her wound. She was close to crying, but she knew to stay calm no matter what. It's a wound to take care of... If infection doesn't get it first. Oh great, that's where she starts to panic.

Hakim Nejem stood atop the walls of Masyaf Castle, watching as the sun began to crest over the distant jagged mountains that surrounded the home of the Levantine Brotherhood. As the orb of light rose higher into the cool grey sky shadows shifted across the land, slowly moving along the mountains and shrinking away from the light of the new day. Hakim rested his forearms on the cold stone of the castle as he took in the mountains, gazing appreciatively at both their beauty and strategic value. Barring any extenuating circumstances such as a traitor or a truly overwhelming force, Masyaf was practically the most defendable location he knew across the Holy Land. Even with such elements working against those stone walls Hakim considered that even they would not be able to bring them tumbling down into the dust.

Tearing his mind from distraction of the mountains, Hakim’s mind wandered to the discussion that had occurred between his aging mentor, Al Mualim, and himself the night before. The Mentor had called him to his library late in the night, the shelves of fragile texts dimly lit by a single torch hanging on the side of a wall. Al Mualim stood behind the desk and, behind him, was another figure concealed in dark robes and shadows. Hakim’s mentor spoke to him of information his agent had learned, information that could lead to what they had sought for so long, that could lead to the object or knowledge that could truly bring peace to the world. Hakim remembered the feeling he had experienced at the mention of the news and his pulse quickened as it had only hours before. To acquire that which they sought would take a great deal of thought, secrecy, and possibly… sacrifice. The assassin looked down at the hidden blade on his left forearm briefly wondering to what lengths he would go to ensure the Assassin’s purpose would truly be fulfilled.

Shouting drew his attention and Hakim looked down below to see a figure in bloodied Assassin robes running up the path towards the castle. He couldn’t make out who it was from high up on the stone walls and, after a moment of thought, decided the circumstances of the Assassin’s injury could possibly provide some useful information on enemy movements if that was indeed how they came by them. A few moments later Hakim was in the main courtyard with a small group of Assassins who were carrying their injured companion to someone who could tend to her wounds. Hakim recognized her face but he couldn’t associate a name with it. Regardless, the first thought that came to his mind was ‘reckless.’ Hakim didn’t know the exact circumstances of her injury yet, but he couldn’t help the distain he had for recruits who merely rushed into battle with little thought. He couldn't count the number of Assassins who had lost their lives because of foolish mistakes that could have easily been prevented. Still, Hakim was intent on learning of the circumstances of her injury and continued following the group of Assassins.

Reckless indeed. She was rushing both ways. Plus, she was given the mission on such short notice that she didn't have time to plan. A fault on both parts, actually. It's fortunate for her that she lived or else the Assassins would lose a very efficient tactician. But what happened? As stated before, she was on her way back to Masyaf after delivering a message to a town's Assassin Bureau.

She was up close to a wall in a crowded street, thinking of various ways to get past the nearest guards. She could blend in and follow the crowd until she reaches another corner. She could run across the street into the next. Or she could climb up the wall and run across the rooftops. She began to climb, since she supposed the quickest way was to go from above. Unfortunately she tripped the first building leap, making her fall in front of the guards she was trying to avoid! She could flee or she could fight. She chose to fight as she thought it might help her get better at combat. From where she layed, she threw a throwing knife at one guard, causing him to fall to the ground and die. As she quickly got up, she unsheathed her sword and swung at the other guard. The fight quickly got the attention of three other guards and they came running in. She took out one with another throwing knife and blocked an attack of another guard with her sword. She impaled that one as a counter. With her back turned, one of the two living guards managed to get her shoulder. She groaned in pain as she took out one more throwing knife and threw it at one of the two. It missed. That's when she began to run. She clutched her shoulder and sheathed her sword, running and sometimes tripping, ripping some of her cloak off.

"How foolish of me..." she mumbled.

Which leads us to where we are right now, Akilah being carried by her fellow Assassins to aid. She couldn't help but smile for their effort. The "Brotherhood" part of the "Assassin Brotherhood" is where everyone shines. Effort given to aid each other for the greater good, for honor. It was something to smile about. The fact that everyone finds a way to work together as one, to ensure that everyone survives and thrives... Even Akilah herself. And so, here we are with a shirtless Akilah being bandaged up at the shoulder, various strands of cloth going around parts of her upper arm and sides. She explained her situation there to inform her brothers of her mistakes.

"It was a rather clumsy mistake on my part," Akilah began to say. "But- Agh..." She clutched her shoulder again. "I'm still alive... To learn from it. I should pay attention more, huh?"

His eyes were calm and cool, showing no change as he listened to the younger Assassin’s story. Hakim stood patiently at the foot of her bed with his arms crossed as she detailed what how she had fought off the several guards before finally being forced to retreat. Despite the nearly life-threatening nature of the situation she had only narrowly escaped from, the female Assassin before him seemed to be rather optimistic about the experience and about learning from it in the future. Hakim, however, remained unimpressed.

“It was a ‘rather clumsy mistake’? No, it was much more than that - it was a mistake that could have, and in all honesty should have, cost you your life. The only reason you are here now is because the blade’s owner lacked in skill or was rushed, had he had focus it would have severed your head from your body as opposed to merely wounding your shoulder. The fact the there were no guards armed with bows to quickly put a halt to your escape? This was luck as well.

"You have the mind of a tactician but lack the patience to be one in full. Being able to map out several methods of reaching the same goal is useless without the time to understand which will yield the greatest result. Do you understand? If not, you will. Once you have adequately recovered I will be enlisting your assistance to develop your skills and make sure you do not get yourself killed. I several important operations throughout the Holy Land that could use a mind like yours, with the proper sharpening of patience of course. I shall see you soon.”

Without waiting for a response Hakim left the girl to heal and think on what had caused her such injury. His footsteps echoed on the cool stone floors as he made his way to the courtyard to check on the state of the apprentices in training.

People can be harsh for a reason. Which is why Akilah pays attention. Either way, she was at least clumsy in one part; tripping before the jump. But her comrade is still right. Patience is a virtue. If she kept in that corner to think, the best result would've been to blend, as she would take her time. Then as she would walk, she would think of how to transfer into the next crowd. She would keep doing the same thing until she manages to exit the city. She should really consider it. Even so, like her fellow comrade said, she needs to develop her skills. She smiles, knowing that someone is there to help her. Even though she's risking her life day by day, it is an honor to be a part of something great where there are people there to help you. Like brotherhood, like family. Soon, her face went from a face that says "thank you guys so much" to a face that says "AGH IT HURTS SO MUCH".

Much later on, Akilah sat at her desk within Masyaf Castle, left hand occasionally rubbing her shoulder. An uncomfortable feeling it was, a few stings of pain here and there. Even with something like that, Akilah was determined to keep going with her work. A diligent one she was, devoted to her work as tactician. She has requested that she would have the occasional combat training twice a day so that she could get better. But nothing keeps her away from planning various missions. It was her passion to strategize so that others may benefit, living up to her name. A few maps of the neighboring towns and cities occupied her desk, but rolled up to make space. A feather-pen and ink were at one corner and a journal in the other. A bookshelf was behind her, various books of strategies and battle stories, with all books in alphabetical order. She had a gentle smile on her face, knowing that her work is well needed and that her hard work is worth it.

It was later in the day and Hakim felt much more active than he had earlier in the morning when the young assassin, whose name he learned to be Akilah, was brought in injured. Hakim had been making preparations to leave Masyaf in pursuit of that which Al Mualim sought since then, visiting the weapons master to pick up his axe that he had dropped off to be sharpened the day before and making a visit to the stables to have two horses prepared for the journey. He hadn’t chosen the swiftest horses for the task at hand and opted for the sturdiest that could endure the longest journeys. Hakim didn’t know how long it would take to find the the item they were after but he did not want to leave it to the chain of command to accomplish such a task, so he would travel wherever it was necessary to oversee the operations of such tasks himself. Before he ventured out he would need to fill the seat of the second horse though.

Back in the comforting stone walls of Masyaf, Hakim found himself standing outside a wooden door. Behind the door was one of the studies within Masyaf, this one specifically having been used the most by Akilah Samara. After speaking, albeit harshly, with the young assassin he had ventured to learn more about her place in the Brotherhood and whether his words had been wasted on deaf ears or whether there was potential in this assassin whose reckless actions had almost cost her life. Speaking with several members of the Order revealed the latter to be true, that the girl carried with her both a strategic mindset as well as a stubbornness regarding any fallacies in her plans. Hakim decided to bring her along on his mission would provide Akilah the opportunity to develop her skills and for him to make sure she didn’t land herself in trouble. The choice was ultimately hers of course, but as he heard faint footsteps on stone from the other side of the door he hoped she would accept his offer.

Akilah went on to open the door after hearing footsteps from the other side of the door. She grit her teeth as she opened the door with the arm of the wounded shoulder. Once her arm was back at her side, she relaxed and looked at her comrade, whose name she learned to be Hakim from those who helped her recover. She gave him a gentle smile and rubber her shoulder with her left hand. Of course, the wound was sore when the arm wasn't in action, but it was still a bother.

"Hello again... What do you need?"

(Mind if I join once you've reached a different city? That does seem to be where this is going...)

GlitchBait wrote:

(Mind if I join once you've reached a different city? That does seem to be where this is going...)

((You're free to!))

The door opened only seconds after he knocked, and Hakim found himself face to face with Akilah once again. She looked quite a bit better than she had when had last seen her and her colour had improved, although the lack of blood-stained clothes probably had something to do with that. She seemed more collected than before as well despite the obvious pain that still dwelled in her shoulder. Hakim had no time to provide comfort or show concern though, such things would only weaken her resolve and distract from more important things.

“Akilah Samara. It is good to see you are not dead. I have something to discuss with you… privately.”

He pushed past her into the study and stood beside the desk as she closed the door. Scanning the room and its shelves of texts he noted it was not unlike his own. When the door had closed and it was just the two of them, he spoke.

“I am not one to think highly of Assassins who make mistakes Akilah, even small ones such as yours. It usually betrays a quality of rashness and ill-formed tactic in a person, one that does not usually bode well with the kind of operations I conduct. But your fellow brothers tell me otherwise, that you are intelligent, bright, and have a quick mind. Fortunately for you I am inclined to believe them. Very soon, before the sun begins its fall towards the western horizon, I will be departing on a mission to Jerusalem. The details of this particular mission have not been formed and will most likely only come up as I continue my investigation, which is why I have chosen to oversee things myself.”

Hakim paused for a moment to quickly take in her expression before continuing.

“I would like you to accompany me on this journey, to aide in the mission of particular importance. It will be long, most likely dangerous, and there is a chance that either one or both of us could lose our lives. But it would provide an opportunity to travel and to learn, to perhaps obtain new and useful texts, something which I think you would appreciate.

What do you say?"

"I will gladly take this opportunity, brother."

Akilah gave a warm smile to Hakim before going to open a map of Jerusalem on her desk. She gestured a "come here" and began to observe the map. The path from Masyaf, the nearest Assassin Bureau, and the layout of the city. She thought carefully before turning her head to the other.

"Where is the destination? It's necessary to know where it is to I can plan out the shortest path."

Hakim watched as the assassin went to a shelf, withdrawing a large, folded sheet of parchment and laying it on the desk. The parchment, a splendidly detailed map of the Holy City of Jerusalem he now saw, almost covered the entire desk and despite looking well-traveled looked as though it was a fairly recent mapping of the city, perhaps even within the last year or two. Akilah turned to him with a questioning look and inquired as to where it was they would be travelling so that she could plan the shortest route.

“Our primary destination is the Assassin’s Bureau which, as is indicated here, located in the rich district of Jerusalem. This in itself is easy enough to get to without drawing too much attention, I’m sure you’ve done it many times yourself. But we have much more to do before we even set out to accomplish the task that has been set before us.

“There are two things that require our immediate attention when we arrive in the city. The first is a relatively simple task: there is a merchant in the rich district, a man named Khaleel, who has been invaluable in providing supplies and goods to the Jerusalem Bureau for many years in return for protection and monetary compensation. The time to return the favour has come around again and so we must pay a visit to Khaleel to compensate him for his services.

“The second task will be much more… interesting. There is a man in Jerusalem who has been marked for death for a short time now. One of our Order was set to fulfill this mission and was set to depart for Jerusalem as soon as he arrived back from an assignment in Cyprus. Unfortunately we recently received information that indicates that this man will be leaving Jerusalem for an unknown destination before our agent can get there. So it will be up to us to fulfill the mission and ensure it is carried out quickly and efficiently. Do you think you can handle that?”

Hakeem looked to Akilah and remembered how she still had been nursing her injured shoulder only moments earlier. If she was to accompany him there could be no doubt that she would be able to carry out the tasks they needed to accomplish, it wouldn’t do to have her slow them down and yet - and yet Hakim wanted her to come. The display of intelligence and a strategic mind had been unexpected and impressive, it was something he secretly wished to see flourish and develop into something even greater than it already was. But only time could tell whether this would happen.

Nursing the wound on her leg wasn't the highlight of her trip out of Damascus. No, the highlight had been slipping out and being spotted stealing a horse. The wound was healed enough, a week later and the scab was finally peeling off. It wouldn't have taken so long if she had just rested her leg instead of bandaging it tight and ignoring the pain. It was deeper than she had initially guessed and would leave a thick scar she could be proud of. Pan had left in a frenzy of movement, the horse unhappy about her swift saddling and swifter exit through crowds of people and past soldier encampments.

As the horse moved sedately along the main path her mind began to wander forward to finding a new place to set up or maybe she should follow the map she had been given. She had enough coin for a legitimate stay somewhere. It might be nice, but then she would have to play up the being a boy part more than usual. She could get a bath though on her arrival, the idea appealing to her.

When the sun began to set, she pulled the reigns of her horse, trotting off the beaten path and setting up a small camp. She slept with her valuables on her, wary of any bandits. Sleeping in the open never made her comfortable, but inside a small room other people could enter was worse. Pan didn't trust the towns. Small towns meant everyone knew each other and remembered faces. Meaning they might remember her scar from the few reckless things she had done as a younger, dumber child. Once the sun was gone and a fire was built, she allowed herself to fall into a shallow sleep. Ready to spring up at a moments notice.

(Meanwhile in Masyaf..)
Hakeem Al Qatan sat on the edge of The Assassin's fort walls, he was looking for the strange person he met in Damascus. He gazed on the horizon, then he finally spotted a small figure on a horse riding towards the castle. Smiling, Hakeem climbed down the walls, ready to greet the visitor.

So, she was late. The scrawny figure of the disguised woman came over the ridge, eyeing the high yet primitive wall with uncertainty. The map was in her saddlebag but she was in the act of pulling it out when a figure moved in the distance down a wall. All in all Pan's little camping expedition along the way proved mostly uneventful after she honestly decided a direction. The carrot was almost too good to ignore even with the looming threat of the stick. Oddly enough the marked city looked more like a refugee camp at first. Not a place she would be caught stealing if she could control it.

The face mask we pulled up as the 'boy' rode towards the gates slowly. The guards eyeing her in suspiscion. She figured she must look like a bandit, probably smell like one too. Maybe the map would get her admittance? The weapons on these guards were far from standard. Each one had throwing knives in addition to the usual weaponry and they wore what were almost scholars robes. No, not a place to steal from! This couldn't be the rumored and hidden?... No. It wasn't possible. Sure she had heard from guards and knights the rumors, but never once would she dare believe them! It seemed too obvious! A most painfully so if it were the case.

Dismounting with the map in hand, she slipped the saddle bags on her shoulder and limped towards the guards, holding out the map. "I am to meet someone.... scholars garb, lots of weapons?" She said to the nearest one in the deepest and gruff voice she could manage. Great job, she thought to herself, just describe everyone you can practically see past the gate! an outward wince we given, but with her mask up it looked more like she was squinting her good eye. The guard took the paper from her and gazed at it quizzically before waving her past. Not much for talking are they? she asked nobody in particular, keeping the thought contained as she tried to figure out what came next. A meal and a bath would work out nicely...

Hakeem walked out of the fort's gates. "Ah, Pan! I welcome you to the fort of Masyaf, home of our brother hood." Hakeem pointed to the guards on the walls "Those are my brothers and sisters, and possibly soon yours if you care to listen." Hakeem told him. "Come,walk with me."

Well she'd be a squirrel in a skirt! There was a welcoming committee?! Pan almost fainted from shock, good eye bulging at the fact 'he' wasn't being attacked. Furtively glancing all around and waiting for the supposed other shoe to drop, 'he' had to force down the rising lump in 'his' throat. "Uh...." was the only response she had at first. Real dignified! she chastised herself, way to impress the first guy to talk to you without trying to kill you in years! Merchants didn't count.

Her self conversation lasted only a few seconds, but it was enough time for several emotions to reach her eyes. Predominately worry. "I can listen... I suppose." Though a million questions ran through 'his' mind as the mask was pulled down, keeping the hood up. The hood hid long hair which was a dead give way to her gender. The 'boy' had a softer face that only an adolescent was capable unless they were... well, female. Feet following Hakeem, 'he' let her gaze wander around and pick up subtle cues from the crowd. It seemed more laid back here, less war torn. Women even wore pants! Did that men she could stop hiding?

Cutting across what Hakeem may have had to say first with an almost apologetic tone, she pointed at a woman in pants passing nearby. "Is that normal? That is acceptable here?" The hope in her voice, forgetting to disguise it, was unmistakable. Maybe Hakeem would assume 'his' voice was cracking...

"Yes, it makes sense, have you seen any one going to war in skirts?" Hakeem told him, " we are a brotherhood, we are the Assassin Order, we live by our creed." Said Hakeem as he entered the fort. " Nothing is true, Everything is permitted." Hakeem explained. "That is our maxim, and we live by the three tenants, which are: to stay your blade form the flesh of the innocent, to hide in plain sight and to never compromise the brotherhood." "The knights we fought, they were Templars, out gravest enemies. We have fighting since man walked this earth." As they reached the courtyard they stopped. "If you agree, this can be your home, what do you say?"

She paid rapt attention to Hakeem as he confirmed her suspicion, good eye going wide as a saucer. Hide in plain sight, indeed. It was the right mix of moronic, reckless and ingenious. It sounded like he was confident. Like he expected her to agree. It sounded an awful lot like she willingly walked into a trap where 'no' meant more running from guards... Better trained guards than the ones who already wounded her... I don't qualify as 'innocent' do I? she wondered. The tone when she spoke was careful, like a shepherd who just found out the wolf was indeed in the sheepskin and eating the flock only to have finished and was eyeing the shepherd now. Never compromise... oh hell! Was this the meaning of her mentor telling her to question?

Pan looked up at the fort, the training ring catching her gaze as steel clashed loudly. Unbeknownst to her, the others were inside planning an expedition. She was on immedite defense with Hakeem. "How is this going to go, Hakeem? It looks like just another war camp. I have seen what war camps do to people!" Her gaze was hard, jaw set tight and a maniacal glint entered her gaze as she gestured to the fighting ring as if it explained everything he needed to understand. Her voice rising to am almost uncomfortable level of shrill at the mention of war camps before she reigned it back and continued. "This begs the important question, why did you spare me on that rooftop?" Blood begot blood after all, and the fresh gashes on the fighters only seemed to harden her further. She had been practically helpless on the rooftop, blinded by a need for revenge under convenient disguise and he passed the opportunity only to face her with something beyond her grasp as if she would or could take it.

Pan's expression twitched with retort as an instructor shouted at the fighters, biting back a response to him that might have been rude. "People like myself don't get brothers or sisters. We don't get the excuse of religious zeal or protecting family or even protecting a way of life. Why do you ask or even tell me all that you have? Am I some test for you?" In her mind, people only ever did things for selfish reasons. All cares of disguising herself went out the proverbial window though her tone was hard and gruff of its own accord and her posture straightened. Stiffening to perhaps run. She was suspicious of him and wary all the same, giving him space between them. Space enough for her to try and vanish if she had to. She was good at running and vanishing, her best trait actually as she reminded herself.

With a rising temper came a rising temperature and she had to fight not to lose the cowl hiding her hair even as she flushed an unhealthy crimson with sweat pickling at her neck and brow. Pan was nothing more than some street rat foreigner. Perhaps it was fear that held her back or the way she seemed ready to pounce authority for the sake of starting a fight. Though there seemed to be something far deeper, something unsaid. Hinted at in her raised voice about Masyaf being nothing but a 'war camp'. His calm explaining only served to stir her into the kind of panic seen commonly in injured and cornered wild animals. Each word was a calculated strike as she failed to see the most blatant part of the scene around her. Everyone seemed content. No beggars cried for money and the guards didn't hound innocent people. The gravity of it all didn't seem to get through to her. Assassin's guarded the gates. Assassins! If she survived this, she would start introducing herself as Daniel from the lion's den story!

"Masyaf is more than a war camp." Said Hakeem . He pointed to village outside the keep. " See that village? Those are innocents, children. We protect them from the Templar and their Crusader cronies. We fight for freedom, of mind and soul, while the Templars fight to control every aspect of your life. 'We work in the dark to serve the light'. The reason I spared you is because you remind me of myself as an orphan is Damascus. I had to steal, to kill! To just feed myself, the assassins took me in, raised me as their own, and I thought that you would have a future among us. If you wish, you may leave and continue your life as a lowly thief, or, you could stay with us, and save the Holy Land,nay, The world from being slaves to the damned Templars." Said Hakeem angrily.

Pity. The realization dropped like a cold stone in her gut and she practically snarled, ripping back her cowl. She looked like some demon with her glare straight on Hakeem ready to burn him through sheer willpower. "You pity me?! Well don't! I am strong and capable! So I steal to eat? I never asked for anyone's bleeding heart to take me in! Not once!" Her long hair took to the light breeze and flew about haphazardly adding to the possessed look of the irate woman. Pan had half a mind to cry, but she would never show such weakness. Not in front of someone who could probably kill her. So instead it turned to anger. Why was there no compassion when she was alone all those years ago? Where was her bleeding heart then?

Pan's gaze flicked to the village and her expression become pained. People were staring at her, an irate woman screaming at an assassin looking ready to murder him or get herself killed. Taking steps to try and control her tone, she continued with each word clearly anunciated. "Thieves are not 'lowly'. Maybe you forgot we too have a code. Take from those who can give. Never those who cannot... There is nothing left for you to save! Children are torn from their homes, their families, daily. Kill every warrior you see on the field and still you have to fight their grieving sons and daughters when they come of age. Soon enough nobody will remember why they fight, only that they do. Even then, you still have the people hiding behind crown and country directing them where to go, who to kill. Do you have someone pointing your blade, assassin?" She shook her head and raked a dirty hand through her hair before throwing her hand up in exasperation. Her cover was officially blown, all because she couldn't hold her temper.

Turning on her heel, she stalked with her limp to the nearest fortress wall and slid into a crouch against it before sinking fully and stretching out her injured leg. The saddle bag she had tossed on her shoulder sank to her side with a small clatter. She looked furious as a raging sea during a typhoon but hid her face in her hands, letting the blind eye be the only revealed feature. She didn't wish to see what he was showing her. Nothing good happened for people like her. It wasn't the way of the world. "Want to know the secret, assassin? There is no light. There is no right, no wrong. There is only what you do. Everything is a matter of perspective. Rules of fighting with a blind side. Not everything is as it first appears." Her speech was slowing, her irate mood swinging back to nothing almost as if it never happened. She was channeling the lost memories of her mentor, a man who had meant everything to her and hardened her by never once taking her to a place she could call 'home'. Her hand fell away from her good side and she gave him a blank stare. "The trick is seeing what is on the other side regardless of being blind to it..." She spoke almost absent minded now. Like she let all her fight out in a fit of shouting instead of with violence like her hands had itched for. Guards kept a wary eye on her though, a few onlookers from the training ring held curiosity but as she stopped shouting, she lost their interest. Years of repressing her thoughts and feelings had made her dangerous and hard to predict and that unpredictability was coming to the fore.

Her good eye focused past the gates where the innocent families lived in peace under the watchful gaze of people she had thought to be little more than cold blooded killers for hire. It seemed the city guards and soldiers didn't know everything. Her brow tensed and furrowed before relaxing again and refocusing on the man who guided her there. It was glaringly obvious she was a woman now, with her tied hair falling free of the cowl she shoved back. Dark hair caught the breeze and tumbled down over her shoulder. "I can help you fight your crusade, but I won't be chained. Not by God nor Creed... For the children. I will do it only for them. Can you accept that? An ally not bound by your rules?" Her tone held finality in it and a deep seeded mistrust. It didnt matter if she agreed with the rules in place they seemed to have. What mattered was the fact that they answered to someine. A person. People were fallable. She found the stick, this man's bleeding heart. It was going to get him killed if he let the wrong person close, she was sure of it.

" Alright then, for every Templar target you kill, you will get gold from our coffers. But, you will have stay in Masyaf, help keep the peace, run errands." Said Hakeem, clearly distraught by Pan's refusal." You'll sleep in the novices' dorms."
Hakeem started walking towards the armour before he turned around. "Oh, I'll need your real name, we don't keep secrets here."

Her eyes narrowed on him. "Another cage, then. We will see how well that works for you." A mirthless laugh rolled from her and she gave a cold smile. "Pan works, Hakeem. It is the only name anyone alive knows. Earn it, and you may learn the rest. I may even tell you it's meaning in time, Cruentis Cor." She remained where she was, musing at the wild turn her life had taken by simply entering a new city's gates. For one, she had learned just how blind she really was. Two, she got to see how blind others were to things she knew from experience.

When he was gone, she inclined her head to look around before pulling the cowl back up, twisting her hair to tame and hide it again. Novices dorms! Hah! Stay in the city! That was even more laughable by her standards. Maybe her reputation hadn't gotten this far... or maybe their guards were just that good. She would have to test it, but first a bath before exploring. Snatching up her bag, she got to it. Finding a place to clean up even if it was in the river below.

The guards would know her as a terror in no time. Once her leg healed, she would be on rooftops and scaling the walls like she owned the place. She knew that compared to her life a few scant hours ago, she was willingly wasting time. It wasn't like she didn't have it as she began her exploration while cleaned. At least the man hadn't demanded her weapons. That would have ended in blood. His disappointment should have hurt her feelings, but all of those particular feelings were hiding away where she couldn't reach them. It was hard to find a shred of remorse for anything she had ever done. It was how she stayed so sharp, even as she wandered the fortress halls in fresh ill fitting secondhand clothes, listening closely to clips of conversations behind the doors. Pan prowler like a large cat might, silent and looking lazy while still tense enough to react. Maybe she would chance upon the plotting duo?

"I will gladly accept. Thank you."

And with that, Akilah closed the map and turned to Hakim with acceptance. A trip to return the favor to an ally and to assassinate a target. A mission that will aid Akilah in improving her social manners and combat. But there was also the chance to improve her mind, for she will have to think of various ways to attack the target and make sure he falls. It takes great effort to succeed as an Assassin, but Akilah knows that it is worth it.

"Lead the way, brother Hakim."

“So be it,” Hakim replied, giving one definitive nod. “Pack whatever it is you will need for the journey and meet me down by the stables as soon as you are ready. Take only what is essential, we must travel lightly so that we may be quick and be able to adapt to whatever is thrown our way.”

Giving Akilah one final nod he turned away from the map of Jerusalem and strode out the room back to the stone halls of Masyaf. There was shorter pause between the echo of Hakim’s footsteps as he quickly made his way through the labyrinth of halls until he finally reached the courtyard and the close-by stables. The two steeds he had requested had been prepared and were ready to go, a couple packs of supplies and provisions had been strapped to each horse as well. They were fine mares to be sure. Although they weren’t the quickest or the sturdiest in the Holy Land they were certainly the best balance of the two and would serve any assassin who rode as well as any other horse one could find.

Hakim stopped for a moment to take in the courtyard of the place he called home, the fresh mountain air, the clang of swords in the practice arena, and the many robed men and women who were his family. Although he did not leave the confines of Masyaf nearly as often as his fellow brothers and sisters he knew all too well that missions could extend far beyond their intended length of time. It was also well understood by any assassin that missions always carried the risk of death or capture, that they may never return to Masyaf again. This thought was even more poignant at this time to Hakim on one of the few assignments he was leaving the headquarters of the Brotherhood to conduct, an assignment which had no definable target or time in which it could be accomplished. So he stood there for a moment and took in every sensory experience of Masyaf he could, committing as much to memory as he could before they set out on their expedition.

Breaking off the train of thought he set off across the courtyard with a new sense of focus. Soon enough Hakim found himself in front of the stable master for the Brotherhood, Amar Al-Rahid. The two men were well acquainted and had become quite familiar with all the time they each spent at Masyaf. Unlike Hakim, Amar came to join the Assassins' ranks later in life as opposed to being born into it. Bandits had attacked his home a number of years ago, murdering his wife, stealing away his children and leaving him for dead. But he had persisted and, after burning down his family home and burying his wife, he found his way to Masyaf.

“Amar, I see the horses are ready. You have done a fine job, as usual.”

Al-Rahid gave him a friendly nod and the two shook each other’s hands as they entered into a discussion of the state of affairs of the Holy Land and of life in Masyaf while Hakim waited for Akilah to arrive.