It seems my students do not fully understand...

[theflyingone]

Who: Altaïr and YOU
What: Defense class, which is secretly a spy class, which is secretly a way for Altaïr to find some allies. Or so he hopes.
When: May 1-3, any hour; please specify date + time
Where: City's craftsmen district
Rating: PG? for sparring and mention of killing.

Altaïr conducted much of his work—spying, subterfuge, assassination, saving old ladies—during broad daylight. Today was no different. He was up with the earliest of shopkeepers in the craftsmen district, the crisp morning light throwing blue shadows on his white robes. He came here often to familiarize himself with the city. He felt this area would provide the right variety of people in a crowd. Good training ground for most activities, and there were clear bits of land not too far off where sparring could be practiced.

He was expecting some students who'd responded to his post in the journal, and perhaps even some who hadn't. Collecting people through the journal's messages was still a bit strange to him, but teaching was something familiar, having done much of it back home. A master assassin could not amount to much if he could not pass on what he knew. And, the Assassins in general would not be able to do their work without scouting for new recruits and allies.

What the Castle expected of them seemed too much in line with the servility the Templars back home also demanded. The Assassins were their longtime enemies, favoring freedom rather than control. Altaïr hoped to meet people of like mind. Those who wished to defend themselves already possessed a certain initiative, which could be the beginning of free thought. Surely there were people here unhappy with being taken from their lands...

Altaïr ruminated on this between his "classes", standing next to a blacksmith shop. Though he looked like a (well-armed) hooded scholar lost in the stillness of thought, his eyes still scanned the crowd with the ingrained vigilance of his training. He waited in plain sight, to be found more easily. He could not expect everyone to have already mastered seeing the unseen. He would be teaching how to see, how to remain hidden, the art of movement, and sparring with blades—most likely in that order, unless someone proved exceptionally ready for more than just the basics.

Comments

[theflyingone]

Luckily for Aaron, Altaïr was the only one of his Brothers in the immediate vicinity. Otherwise, he'd have several white-hooded men to distinguish from one another. Anonymity was their game, after all, and only someone looking closely would remember that the Assassins had their individual tastes in weapons. Altaïr would seem heavily equipped, especially to the modern man. but his armor was mostly just stiffened leather light enough for rooftop hopping. He carried a sword, long knife, and throwing knives. He would have had his hidden blade strapped to his left bracer as well, but the Castle had taken it from him.

"Altaïr." He paused, not used to giving his name this freely. But refusing to give his name after Aaron had already done so would mark him more. "Follow me. There is more space in one of these empty lots, even if people may still stop to gawk. And, you will forgive me for keeping my weapons on me; I am used to wearing them more often than not, and I do not wish to forget how to move with them on."

He glanced down to see if Aaron had gloves or handwraps. If not, he'd remove his own to be fair.

[teenagebadboy]

There was clearly more to Altaïr than Aaron knew. Coming from a small village in the 21st century, Aaron was not used to people wearing weapons that openly. Sure he had been involved in criminal activities so guns wasn't something he found strange. But the sheer lack of guns would still make him react and perhaps be more cautious about it. But he assumed Altaïr was from somewhere else. A memory from his time in Florence tugged on his mind. Perhaps he had seen someone similarly equipped. But that had been the castle's doing.

He nodded back at the older man and followed him. He was slightly on guard as always. Because it was someone he didn't knew who also was armored. The only thing Aaron carried was a backpack with some boxing gloves and other equipment. He hadn't known what to expect to he had just throw something together. He wasn't used to teaching or training with fist fighting. He had also wrapped some bandages around his hands for comfort and slight protection.

"Your home world must be dangerous if you need all those weapons," Aaron commented.

[theflyingone]

He had a seriousness that belied his age. Then again, being twenty-five during the Crusades usually meant more responsibility than it did in modern times. When war and plague took thousands, people lined up their priorities early on. They took jobs as youths, married young, and had children. In Altaïr's case, he ascended to the rank of Master Assassin more quickly than any before him.

"Every land has its own dangers. In mine, I often travel alone by horse, and being armed on the road is a necessity."

Being armed was also a necessity when one was a hunter of men. He led him to the empty lot. He scuffed his boots on the ground to get a feel for it, and flexed all nine of his fingers.

"Warm up if you need to. I have already done so, before you arrived."

[teenagebadboy]

Aaron was only 20 but he had been through some bad stuff which had made him angry but had also made him mature. Maybe not as much as Altair but he was more mature now than he was only 2 years ago.

"Seems like my land is more peaceful than yours. If you travel around the wort thing you may face is getting robbed or raped. People don't carry so much armor and weapons," Aaron commented and started to stretch his muscles. He didn't know what to expect but he readied himself.