The Angel Of Death

January 2, 2008, 2:24 PM

This is a story i have just begun to write. I got my inspiration from Assassins Creed, a video game, another game and book "splinter cell", various authors such as Matthew Reilly and Clive Cussler and also from the Hashashshins, the first assassins. I'm only going to post the prologue for the story, to see if it hits off and is worth continuing. Feedback is much appreciated.

The name "Altair", yes it is the same one from assassins creed but i chose it because it means "flying one" (I'm a trainee pilot) and is also an awesome name, so here's the prologue.

THE ANGEL OF DEATH
PROLOGUE

“We must fight, fight until the end. If one of us should die, it will be for the greater good! The gods has declared the infidels destroyed!”
The preacher continued to shout from the podium, churning the crowd into a frenzy. Altair sat in the window of a nearby bell tower watching the scene below him.
He was disgusted; he pulled his white hood over his head. The heat was unbearable, but Altair had long since learnt to resist the heat.
The preacher’s name was Del Marco, he was a corrupt priest from one of the local churches, taking peoples money and spending it on comforts for his church. Altair watched as a blue robed man pushed to the front of the crowd.
“Stop this nonsense!” the man began to cry, “Who are you to tell these people what to believe!”
Marco glared at the robed man, “The gods have ordered me to spread their word, and I am doing what is expected of me”
The robed man jumped up onto the podium, to be grabbed form behind by two city guards. “You are speaking nonsense, if you are not careful you will meet a horrible end!”
“As long as I do what the gods ask of me, I will have their protection”
Altair smirked; a god had never stopped him before, so why would they stop him now?
<o:p> </o:p>
Lightning roared in the sky as rain battered the rooftops of the city. The old church laid quiet and dark, its occupants long since gone to bed. Del Marco looked out his window, smiling at his days work. The robed man had been one of the many atheists to threaten him. Marco just ignored them and went on with his life. He walked over to the one lamp in the room and blew it out, lay down in his bed and quickly went to sleep.
Marco awoke an hour later to see the lamp in his room lit. He stood up and blew it out. He then walked over to the door. It was closed and locked form the inside, no one else had a key and the only other way inside was up the wall and through his window which was a near impossible climb. Marco turned around to go back to bed to find his lamp lit again. Quivering, Marco blew it out and went to close his window, as he turned he saw that the lamp was once again lit.
“Who’s there? Show yourself at once!”
Nobody stepped forwards. Visibly afraid, Marco began to walk towards the lantern when he felt something cold against his neck.
“Good evening father”.
Marco slowly turned to see the hooded face of Altair.
“Who are you and what are you doing here!”
“Isn’t obvious? I am here to kill you” Altair responded, his tone not quavering for a second.
“You cannot kill me; the gods will wreak their revenge and cut you down! You dare to start a fight with the gods!” Marco was scared, his voice shaking.
“Don’t get me wrong father, I have nothing against your gods, I do not wish to hurt them, just the corrupt old man who takes advantage of others.”
Marco fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around Altair’s legs.
“I am sorry! Please forgive me and spare my life” Marco’s voice was loud and high pitched, tears brimming in his eyes.
Altair slowly put his left hand on the preacher’s head. Marco did not know, he couldn’t have known, that encased in Altair’s left gauntlet was a thin, retractable blade that Altair could reveal with just a twist of his wrist. Altair twisted his wrist. A long thin blade slipped out of the gauntlet and pierced the preachers head, killing him instantly. Altair threw him back against the wall and turned to the window. He was about to jump to the roof of the next building when he had an idea...
<o:p> </o:p>
The morning mass of people gathered inside the church the next morning to behold a horrible sight. Del Marco hung by a chain over the church’s main alter, blood dripping down onto the floor. His shirt has been removed and there were words carved into his chest. They read: WHERE <st1:stockticker w:st="on">ARE</st1:stockticker> YOUR GODS <st1:stockticker w:st="on">NOW</st1:stockticker>?