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The year 1189-South West of Damascus

The soft sound of footfalls fill the air, the occasional grunt issues forth as well and all the while two men on camel back seemed to be quite content simply viewing their surroundings. Their eyes looked out onto the desert surroundings through the small opening in their white head cloths. There wasn’t much to see, the occasional snake and lizard out hunting in the early days heat. One of the men halted his camel, which obeyed, eventually. He stood up in the reigns, his hand shielding his eyes from the suns relentless gaze. He made a shout to the other and pointed. The other did as the first man and laughed as he looked out across the undulating sands.

“I am glad we are almost there brother, I’m not sure how much longer my beast will obey me!” The second man joked as he sat back down and patted the camel’s shoulder; it swung its head around and let out another guttural grunt.

“Come, we should make haste and deliver our message. I wish to leave this land, it has an uneasy silence about it.”

That much was definitely true. The sands around Damascus had never been this empty at the time of year and the lands seemed to be holding their breath, but it seemed like they might exhale at any time and bring untold disruption with them. Doing as suggested the men urged their camels onwards towards the top of the nearest dune.

Slowly they reached the top and a truly breath taking view presented itself to the men. Damascus lay before them. The sandblasted out walls shone radiantly in the days light and much activity could be seen from afar on the battlements. Only the very tall or ornate buildings stood out in the mass of roofs that filled the walls entirely. The most obvious were the beautiful domes of the mosques and the ornate spires dotted all across the Damascus skyline. But more evident were the thousands of Seljuk of Saracen flags caught high in the morning winds. They were everywhere the eyes looked, spelling out clearly who was in charge here.

Slowly the men checked their camels heading and turned to make a straight line for the closest gateway into the city. From their side there were two such entrances, both were bristling with activity and both were highly guarded. The gates were still open to traffic however. The two men drew close together and constantly checked their surroundings. Tales were abound of ambushes in the holy lands these days, even in Syria one was not safe from the nomad tribes that sacked the caravans of goods that travelled the roads in ever dwindling numbers.

They eventually reached the vicinity of the gateway. A great many stalls peddled their goods to the travellers the entered and left the city, forming a crude and winding pathway through the stalls to gain entrance or leave. The men dismounted their camels and walked them over to an empty stall. The trough was filled with fresh water, there was ample food and the high wooden roof provided ample shade for the beasts. They both tied the reigns to the thick beam stretching across the stall and left the camels to their day of relaxing in the sun.

Almost as soon as the pair began the walk through the stalls they were bombarded with sales pitches, great prices and unquestionable craftsmanship. Just another group of merchants out for some quick gold, nothing different from any other merchants from across the lands. But a keen eye could read past the false smiles and arrogant peddling to see the impact of an uncertain future. There was desperation in their voices and a momentary show of uneasiness as they made they’re way back to their stall after following for a few steps. But the average man or woman wouldn’t notice that amongst the sea of voices that seemed to be omnipresent in and around the city.

Suddenly shouting erupted and a flash of steel flashed in the sunlight. A young man began running, but was soon cut off by one of the many guards. He was punched down to the ground by a guard that was almost twice his build, not that that meant much, the citizen was half starved and was almost skeletal in comparison to any member of the surrounding stalls and was dressed in barley fitting scraps of dirty, torn clothes. The guards surrounded the starved man and began to taunt him.

“Your hand belongs to us now, you dirty thief!”

“You thought you could get away with thieving from in our city? You are a fool!”

“Please-Please! I have no money! I’m starv-“

The plea was cut short with the toe of a boot to his mouth, he shouted out in pain but succeeded only in spluttering blood over the pathway. Two guards then grabbed him up by the shoulders and dragged him off through the gate into the city.

Unperturbed by the events the two men walked on behind the guards, unwrapping the white cloth about their faces as they approached the entranceway proper, so as not to provoke men already on the edge. Not that it made much difference, a group of five guards closed ranks as they approached, blocking their path into the city.

“What is your business in Damascus?”

One of the men walked forward, his face quite young, not a blemish on his tanned skin and perfectly clean-shaven.

“We are but messengers sent from Jerusalem to deliver a message.”

“Two of you?”

This the messenger man stepped forward, he spoke with a deep voice and his face showed many more years than the first man.

“I am sure you know of the many bandits that now plague this land. To make sure of safe delivery, two of us were sent to safeguard it's journey. We are also armed in case of attack.”

He took off his sheathed sword and offered it to the guardsman, hilt first.

“Please, take my weapon while I am in your city as a show that we are not here to cause a disturbance.”

The first messenger made to take his off, but he was stopped by a wave by the guardsmen.

“There will be no need, your eyes speak the truth of your words, and you may enter Damas. But I pray you keep your word; in these times the guard are on edge such like I have not seen before. We are wary of spies sent by the infidels, but I am sure you are not one of them. Go and be about your work.”

The guard bowed and stepped to the side granting them passage into the city. They had entered Damascus’ Richest district on the south side of the river. They had not far to travel for the residence of their delivery was but a few streets away, but during this short trip much could be learned of the cities mindset.

The guards were indeed very much on edge, every one they walked past eyed them closely, spotting their blades and deciding to keep an even closer eye on their actions, several decided to follow them and made no effort to hide it. The citizens were all on edge as well, it seemed the declaration of a third holy crusade had sent everyone into frenzy. All of the inhabitants walked with urgency and went about their business hurriedly and with little patience for nonsense.

As they reached their destination the guards following them stopped nearby. The door was rather ornate, a little more so than the surrounding ones. There were sounds of laughing coming from inside, a good-sized gathering of people if the ear was any judge. The two messengers shared a dubious look. Surely they had been sent to the wrong house.

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Inquisitor Lord Fyodor Karamazov
"There is no such thing as a plea of innocence in my court. A plea of innocence is guilty of wasting my time. Guilty!"

Two Months later – Somewhere north of Acre

“I have called you both here for a undertaking the like of which I doubt has ever been attempted before.”

The opening words spoken by Hasan-I-Sabbah to two men stood in front of him. They were spoken in a tone of voice that let both of them know that what he was about to say would be of the utmost importance. He turned to face them; his brow showed a great many years of wisdom and his eyes spoke of inspiring things.

“This crusade, the third such undertaking of the Christians, brings a great time of disturbance to these lands. Three men are to lead this undertaking of war: The King of England, The king of France and the Holy Roman Emperor. They will undoubtedly bring a host of men that will swallow this land, drown the cities with blood and cause our way of life to change irrevocably! Even with the Seljuk Turks allying with Saladin there will be prolonged war.”

He turned away from them and looked to survey the scenes of beauty around him. They were standing near the edge of a makeshift camp, erected specifically for this meeting. It was positioned near an outcrop of cliffs, providing stunning views of the coastline, ocean and to the south the port of Acre.

“As you both know, we are no longer at peace with the emirs of this land, Nizam al-Mulk has repeatedly sent his minions after me and they become more bold with each attempt of my capture. Needless to say, I doubt they will ever find me again; they played their hand far too openly the last time. Also I am close to bargaining a deal to claim Alamut as our own fortress, this with strengthen out brotherhood no end and provide a safe place from which to strike against those who would pervert the innocent of this land.”

He spoke with a rhythm of speech quite beguiling, it almost ensnared the listeners and both of the men listened intently. Finally he turned back to them again, fixing them both in his gaze. He now spoke with a direct tone of grave importance.

“You may ask why I am telling you these things, it is simple; you will not be in the holy lands for much longer and will not hear of these deeds until well after they are completed. We have been given a unique chance to strike against these crusaders and cripple their armies before they reach even Antioch.

“This much is certain; The English and French are coming by sea, they will have to secure a port from which to convey vital supplies to thee lands, the most likely ports are Acre, Haifa, Arsuf And Jaffa. The rest of the armies are coming via land. Led by the Holy Roman Emperor himself, Frederick Barbossa. He leads a great army to the holy lands, seeking to link up with the English and French after marching from the north, “Liberating” the holy lands as he does so.”

“This course of action leaves him more exposed than at any other time. Safe within his fortresses we would be hard pressed to get to him. But here, marching across the lands he is vulnerable, even with his armies marching with him.”

He turned and walked towards a nearby tent, escaping the midday sun. He sat down at a table and beckoned the men to join with him.



Okay, time for the boring bit.

The content of this thread will be religiously sensitive. If you are at all wary of that, please do not join or read this thread, i do not wish to directly or indirectly offend anyone.

This is a private thread, and so anyone who wants to join up will need to PM me with a character sheet of standard design. I will have the final say of whether your character is accepted.

The thread is aiming to be as historically accurate as possible, and so that should be remembered throughout.

I would expect anyone attempting to join this thread to be aware of the history of the third crusade, the rulers of the era and at least a basic knowledge of weapons and armour used and worn. Also a knowledge of the major factions and armies will be paramount.

OOC will not be allowed in THIS thread, please do so in the dedicated OOC thread found HERE

All other current forum rules still apply.

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Inquisitor Lord Fyodor Karamazov
"There is no such thing as a plea of innocence in my court. A plea of innocence is guilty of wasting my time. Guilty!"

Ismail spoke nothing as he watched Hassan, listening devoutly to his words. The man was a great speaker, and even more so a great thinker. He told every bit of information with complete honesty, no matter the consequences. But he only did so with those he trusted. It was an honor to be told so much about something such as this, which made him think to himself of his previous missions. Missions that had proven his honor to the greatest mind of this generation. He removed the hood from his head for respect as his long black hair fell down to reach about his chin, which he quickly parted to reveal his deep blue eyes, which followed Hassan's every movement. He thought about his last mission as his mind double tasked, recalling everything with precision unrivaled.

The night had fallen so quickly, that many commoners were still on the streets as the torches were lit about the city to provide some vision to the paths, if not much. He had cleared the upper city walls in less than two minutes as his feet echoed across the brick and mortar, his target only two city blocks away. The man had made the mistake of not letting his master Hassan leave his old rank without some trouble, calling him a murderer and a psychopath for his beliefs. It was something that could not be had, to first leave such a loose end untied, and to secondly degrade the name of his leader. His feet had nimbly landed atop the large estate with relative ease, as he slowly crept to the edge of the nearest window, stealing himself inside. He had waited within the master bedroom for 3 hours, not daring to breath even the least bit heavy as his target enterred, falling asleep within the first half hour. Why had he waited for the extra time was the question anyone would have asked, but that was simple. He had to wait for the guards to first leave their posts on the street, the servants to go to bed, and for the target itself to feel as secure as possible in his sleep. Slowly he had crawled out from under the bed, his fingers twitching as he reached out, grabbing a loose pillow from the bed. He had wanted this death to not seem like a murder, like that of an old man who had perished in his sleep. SHoving the pillow over the man's face, the man struggled in vain for some time before unconsciousness finally took him, and then death as he kept the pillow steadfast for the next two minutes. His breathing slowed a bit himself as he waited there, finally placing the pillow beneath the man's head as he returned to the window, escaping into the night.

Ismail returned back to reality as he followed Lord Hassan to the seat, taking his seat after his associate did so. His hand flew up to block the sun as the tent flap opened for just a second with the wind, finally dropping his shield from blindness as he gave a nod to his leader, thinking the information over."You spoke particularly of Barbossa, without the mentionings of any other, so I can assume your will is that of the removal of him. Can you give me more information on this person, as well as what time he will be most vulnerable?"

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