The man in the white hood

The man in the white hood

There is now a sequel!!!
http://www.quibblo.com/quiz/dXmthGB/New-Life
Two videos for Alty! (Not by me)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KdxLtffZrvw&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R3DZYBjTn90&feature=related
Yes this is an assassin's creed fanfic. But for those who don't play assassin's creed, I encourage you to still read, Because you don't need to know anything to understand this story. :) It's on here (and not on fanfiction.net) because Fanfiction .net won't work.

Chapter 1

Crossing the silent streets

by: The_theif
I stood on the roof of the tower, my eyes searching the dark streets. Here, In Damascus, everything was beautiful, except here. Here, in the poor district. I sighed. My stomach grumbled, knowing that I had gone without food for yet another day. I even managed to steal an apple and a loaf of bread today. But I gave it to the people who live in this district, who struggle to make end's meat, and who are slowly dying. I sort of took it upon myself to feed the people here, even if it meant going hungry myself. I formed a close bond with the people here, and we share whatever we can find. We even formed small jobs for each of us, that we switched often It was me who was picked to keep lookout on the tower tonight. It was the only tower that I knew of in the whole district, and appeared to be crumbling, the old stone covered in dirt and bird poop. But you wouldn't believe the scum who preyed on the poor, and It was my job to make sure they didn't reach us. I only wish I had some fighting ability, but, truth be told, I knew nothing about fighting. All I ever do is let them know if I see someone suspicious, and then see if there's anything we can do. Most of the time, it involves grabbing our very little food and running.
Atleast your a decent thief . I thought to myself, and laughed. Sure I was good at picking people's pockets, but not exactly a preferred occupation, and other thieves found it quite unusual that I was a woman, and yet much more skilled than them in this little sport. My eyes finally caught something. Someone crossing the dirt path from the alley. I'd heard of such people. People wearing white or gray hoods, most of the time male, sometimes female, with red sashes across their waist, accompanied by a sword, sometimes a dagger, throwing knives, and heavy looking bracers. One beggar said he got close enough to one to see one missing a ring finger. I tensed and leaned in closer, curious about this individual. This one had a white hood, and appeared male. Leather spaulers crossed his shoulders, and he looked like someone who'd seen his fair share of trouble. I almost could make out a scar across his lips, and his eyes sparkled under his hood. I thought about alerting the others of his presence, but for some reason, I remained silent. Then he scrambled up the buildings, adept and agile, obviously experienced.
How did he do that? I thought. I always thought I was a good climber, but this guy made me look like I had no experience what so ever. Next thing I knew, he dissapeared. I don't know how he would've done this, unless there was a hole in the roof or something. I yawned, no longer curious, not wanting to investigate, just exhausted. As I saw the dawn rising, I collapsed on the dusty and cold roof. Finally, I could sleep. I felt my eyes close, and my mind went blank, as I drifted into sleep.

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