Thomas Dickinson, the Assassin Leader, slowly walked down the steps of the run-down plantation that the Assassin's called home. It was a good thirty acres of farmland, though it was littered with training equipment. It was a rather small building itself, though they took pride in the land. Many Assassins had tried to restore the plantation to it's former glory, without the slaves, obviously, but they did not succeed. The building was plain wood, with almost no roof. This helped sometimes, as it got the Assassins used to the weather in battle and on missions.

The living quarters were plain sacks filled with hay and such, but were surprisingly comfortable. They each got one chest to fill with whatever they chose, whether it be from home or not, was their choice. The kitchen was poor and small, but was filled with food that they'd raided from previous assaults on Templar forts. In the center of the building was the meeting room. This was where all Assassins received their missions, contracts, and all around information. It had a single, large, rectangular table with the Assassin insignia carved into the center. There were chairs set all around it, each one with a different name carved into the back.

Thomas sat at the table, awaiting the Assassins to come. He was about to issue an attack on a Templar fort, one that seemed to have poor security. Each and every Assassin controlled fort could turn the tide in the war. The Assassins fought for the Union, so there were Union flags everywhere. He pulled back his hood, revealing his face, which was rarely seen. This meant that this was a serious matter. He fussed with his hidden blade, as he planned to attack this very day. It was still dark outside, the moon peeking above the horizon.

Night was the time to strike. The Templars would never have thought of it, especially with it being a smaller fort.



Jeremiah Sanders, the Templar Leader, sat inside of the center of the fortress, waiting for his Hunters to arrive. There was an ornate oval table in the center of the room, a large Templar flag hanging above it. It was a beautiful room, filled with nice vases, sculptures, and other valuables. There was a case, in which a golden crown lay on a small black pillow. It was engraved with the Templar emblem.

The living quarters were similar to that of a castle. Each Hunter had their own wooden bed, covered in soft red blankets. The kitchen was down below the living quarters, with several slaves working them. They were paid, sure, but only two cents a day. It was piled high with food, and they always kept the Hunters fed. The fort was small, and sort of compact, but it worked.

Recently, Jeremiah had received information of an Assassin plan. The Assassins were planning to attack the fort. This could not happen, that would be a great loss, especially for the Templars. They fought for the Confederates, and hung their flag proudly in the middle of the fort. He couldn't bear to imagine a Union flag flying in it's place. He sat at the table, awaiting his Hunters while tapping his fingers loudly against the wood. It echoed through the room. He could hear the soldiers training and firing their weapons outside. He loved this sound, the sound of victory, to him.

"Ms.Cheng we've arrived Madame."

A French voice spoke to her from the exterior of the horse drawn carriage, in which she resided inside of. Xia smiled a bit and opened her eyes, which had been shut for the last hour not asleep but meditating. She opened the carriage door and stepped from the cushioned inside, her booted foot hitting the cobble stone of the fort ground. Before heading off to the meeting in which she had been called to attend, she looked at the driver and smiled to the Frenchman speaking.

"Thank you sir, your services were exemplary I'll give my highest recommendation to others in my line of work."

With that said she gave the man a stunning sapphire ring ,worth much more then the actual cost of the trip. Then proceeded to walk off, headed for the forts main command and war room. She was dressed in light weight templar armor, the tell tale cross affixed to the collar of her outer cloak. Which was a soft Emerald color, her two exotic hook swords forming an X on her back the hooks facing opposite directions. She was a stunning woman to say the least, not so much spry and cute anymore but aged like fine wine. That is to say, with a bit of exoticness and mystery about her she was known in the order and amongst the assassins as The Tiger Of the West. A name earned by her favored combat style, which she had fell many a foe to.

As she walked, she had reached the large doors of the main hall, two men pushed them open for her as she entered. To which she only nodded her thanks, walking down the fire lit hall her approach could be heard a soft clicking of her boots. Upon reaching the war rooms doors she looked at the guards, whom inquired as to her reason being there.

"Ecuse' me miss but ya can't be wanderin in this part of the fort. Not with out proper permissions ya see."

Xia had little tolerance for many of the men in the southern army, at least for their usual attitude towards her. But she supported the Templars and order, and the Templars supported the confederacy so she tolerated it.

"I am Xia Cheng Assassin hunter and in a higher position then the two of you can comprehend."

The two guards looked at her still unbelievingly, when she pulled a needle from her pinned up hair holding it between her index and middle finger. She threw it at one of the men, not aiming to harm him it hit the collar of his uniform starling him. His fellow solider reacted, attempting to grab a hold of Xia. She gripped his wrist and twisted it around kicking out his leg, tripping him onto his chest. A loud grunt could be heard inside the war room as she let out a small laugh of amusement.

A young boy whistled an ominous tune, walking carefree through the farms. The seemingly abandoned building appeared in the boy's horizon as he took more and more steps. He had his hood off, not bothering to keep the symbolic cover on his head. He had one of his hands pressing a pile of books onto his chest while the other one simply hanged beside him. The young assassin initiate walked up to the building, gazing at its pitiful state like he would each time he went back there. A brief smile appeared on his lips. He shook his head quickly and marched in, stepping to the sleeping quarters and finding his comfortable corner of hays, wood and wool. He set his books down and grabbed something from under the sack containing the hay. He attached the metal crest with the insignia of the assassins onto his belt, right next to his seemingly poorly placed sheathless knives.

Soon enough, the initiate Luca walked into the meeting room, giving the leader a curt nod as a salute before walking to a wall and leaning his back, waiting for their colleagues to
arrive.

A sudden jolt awoke Daniel. His head quickly rose and scanned his surroundings in fear. A sudden pain throbbed in his neck. He sighed, letting out a small groan and rubbed the back of his neck. The cart's wooden wheels clacked and creaked as it rolled over rocks and holes left on the dirt road it was navigating. At some point in this journey he must have fallen asleep. Daniel took a second to orient himself. He looked around, taking note of the gentle farmland he was surrounded by. He saw how the setting sun washed the peaceful vista in a display of orange and red. He sighed, drinking the view in. It had been a while since Daniel had been able to relax ever since his training. By reflex Daniel reached towards a long object hidden underneath a cloth wrapping. Undoing the straps, he pulled out his musket.

It was a fine piece of work. A marvel really. It had taken Daniel many days toiling under the sun to pay for it. Daniel, unlike most people, took pride in his equipment. It was a distinguishing factor. Not only did it help him find an identity in his line of work, but he also knew that this musket wouldn't fail him in his time of need. Daniel set down the musket, and bundled it again to shield it from the elements.

It had been a fair day. The wind blew steadily, and slowly the sun shrank and shrank, until it hid behind the horizon. The temperature slowly dropped, and Daniel felt the growing chill. He drew his hood and huddled a little closer. To his advantage though he finally arrived at his destination. With a snort and a whinny the two cream cart horses halted their movement. The cart creaked once more and stopped. Daniel gathered his meager belonging and vacated the cart. Daniel began to walk towards the only building in a long distance when he was suddenly interrupted.
"Ho there! The master wanted somethin' delivered too!" Shouted the driver, who motioned towards the back with a lantern in hand. Daniel walked over and saw what looked like firewood. He picked up as many as his arms allowed him. Heaving the logs, he thanked the driver who he'd payed with 'greenbacks', and headed towards the building.

The building wasn't quite what he was expecting- but he'd learned to be disappointed often. On his way to the doorstep he could make out a few of the more obvious blemishes in the light. To his left he saw a pile of firewood stacked haphazardly. He gently set down his armful, adjusted his belonging on his back, and opened the door. Inside he hardly had a moment to orient himself before he was directed towards what Daniel assumed was the meeting room. Inside he drank in the scene: a prominent man stood at the head of the table, whom Daniel quickly identified as the leader. The table itself was a dark rich oak, standing out from the meager building he had just witnessed. It had the Assassin's symbol, one he had come to pride himself in, emblazoned on the very center of it.

Daniel watched curiously at the unusual company that was slowly assembling.

Caroline stares down at the faded picture of Sydney, love and contempt brewing in her stomach. The carriage rattles and wobbles on the dirt path. Hopefully it will turn smooth soon enough. The young templar can't stand too much road travel without getting sick.

Caroline rubs her thumb across the face of her dead fiancé, his cheerful laugh ringing in her ears.

A sudden tap at the window pulls her back from the past. Before...them.

Caroline stuffs the locket back down her dress.

The choufer opens the door and extends a gloved hand towards the veteran templar.

"Thank you," Caroline says in her soft southern accent. It didn't sound like the slurs of the white trash or the slaves and the soldiers, but like a belle.

Caroline kept her hat dipped over the left side of her face, hiding her grotesque eye and scar.

The veteran walks at a slow gait, her old plantation habits coming into play. As she approached the main hall doors, she noticed two soldiers, one cradling his hand to his chest, the other poking at his frayed collar.

Caroline stops in front of the soldiers, waiting for their eyes to finally land upon her.

"Hello," she says lightly. "May I go through?"

The soldier with the torn collar opens his mouth, but the other one speaks before him.

"Miss, ya dun wanna go down there. Why don't my comrade here guide ya to the exit?" His accent is blurred by drawls. Must be from Alabama or Mississpi, maybe deep in Georgia.

Caroline smiles, flashing her teeth. "Before your friend does that, please let me thank you for your service. I know these few months have been beneficial for the great Confederacy, but our boys have suffered."

Both men blush for a moment, but then they stiffen their spines, not wanting to acknowledge their struggles.

"Now," Caroline continues, her fingers trail the tip of her hat. "Please step aside." The templar tilts her hat back, her scar and eye slowly coming to light.

Both soldiers contain a gasp.

Caroline just smiles at the dazed men. "Once again, thank you." The girl pushes through the doors herself.

The templar lets herself inside the war room, glancing around.

"Ms. Cheng," Caroline says. "Nice to see you again. Nice work out there, by the way." Caroline gestures lightly behind her with her hand.

While people started to gather at the meeting table inside, Giuseppe was strolling the property with a lady of the evening, whom was a relatively new Recruit, just became one from an Initiate. As expected, Giuseppe was using his famous charm to draw in the buxom Assassin, his sweet words rolling off his tongue with his smooth, even Italian accent. Not too much, but just enough. The Italian had the lady Assassin on his arm, with his hand behind her and his fingertips barely grazing over her back. Before he had a chance to do much else, he checked his pocketwatch and saw it was nearly time to meet and plan the raid that he was a part of. Rangers were needed, since range would play a role in the storming of the fort.

"My sincerest apologies, dearest, but I must take part of the meeting," he said, pulling away from the woman, taking her hand in his. "I am, unfortunately, one of the many assigned to this raid, and will leave." Giuseppe lifted the woman's hand to his lips as he placed a kiss on the back of the palm. He then released her hand. "Until next we meet."

After leaving his lady of the evening, Giuseppe made his way to the plantation house, and to the meeting room, after equipping himself with his repeater, revolvers, and sabre, finding it to his relief that he was not tardy to the event. In fact, the group was just forming. The Italian would join the forming group at the table, looking over to their leader, Thomas Dickinson. He had removed his hood, a sign that this was going to be a long night. His hazel eyes shifted from Dickinson to a young boy, Luca Celeste. Somehow, it bothered him to see such a young boy fighting as an Assassin. He paid no mind to it. The boy at least could stand like someone in their line of work. And, granted, he was almost a man.

His eyes soon left the lad, and shifted over to a fellow Ranger, Daniel Reynolds, two years older than Luca. The man used a musket, like most Rangers did. Giuseppe was one of a handful that used a repeating rifle, and part of a smaller still group that used a Spencer, as opposed to the less-efficient Henry. In his opinion, a repeater was handier than a musket because, while the musket is powerful, it's clunky and slow, whereas a repeater can fire rapidly, and in the right hands can eliminate entire groups of people in the time it would take for a musketeer to kill one. Giuseppe still respected Reynolds and his firearm, finding him a solid shot with the musket.

Patrick Arose at the sounding of the bugel. Getting up he methodically put on his uniform looking solomnly into a field mirrior hanging on his tent wall he scrapped away at his neck making his beard was even and well groom.Exiting the tent as he strapped on his sword and pistol and a stable boy brought up his horse.
"Very good lad." he said to the boy handing him a penny and mounting the pale white steed. Yet another bugel sounded as his men gathered for review.looking over the sea of men each dressed in their own uniform all having only one similarity atleast one article of colthing dyed green and one dyed grey showing the men's loyalty to both their old homeland and their new one. riding along the lines Patrick went over his men sure to look at their form during parade stance. after reviewing the whole line he rode back to the center to adress the troops.
"Good Men! As your Commander I am honored to have the likes of your skill and bravery under my command. now I know most of your are itching to get in battle and prove your worth to the confederacy and this reassignment to this god forsaken fort is not to most of your liking but I promise you that you all are serving your country well for this stronghold is of utmost importance to the government in richmond and I am sure Mister Davis would be very happy to know that the men of 10th Tenesse are watching over this place!" Patrick laughed to himself knowing that the men had no idea on the real importance of the fort and its role in the war.
after the review ended and his men slowly filed back to their camps patrick rode quickly to the center of the fort. approaching the entrance he saw the men standing watch both of whom seemed very flustered at the previous events. they sighed in relief as the Brigadier general came into sight.As Patrick dismounted his horse of the the sentry ran up to him
"Sir, We gots two women in der day been saying sumfing about Hunters or some sort."
"Settle down lad, I'll go in and take care of dis." Patrick said in a thick irish brogue pushing the men aside and walking down into the bunker snickering to himself at the mens' stupidity. Walking down the steps he saw his two companion whom had frustrated the sentries so much.
"Lassies." He said taking off his hat and bowing to his fellow assasin hunters in greeting."Next time you two can perhaps try not tah fluster my men so much." he said laughing once again at his men's idiocy.

(Anybody who has not posted yet, please try to get at least one up soon!)

Assassin Leader

Thomas looked over each Assassin in the room. There was Luca, a rather new initiate. He had great potential, but needed a small bit of work. Then there was Daniel, another initiate. He seemed an honest fellow, which was both an advantage and a disadvantage. An Assassin needed to be able to do whatever it takes, many cases being the spreading of a rumor. Thomas knew he needed to be a bit careful with this one, but he had hope. Giuseppe was the Italian recruit. He was all over the place, this one. Fairly well-rounded.

"Hello, Assassins," Thomas greeted, with a curt nod to each one. "I summon you here today for an important event that shall take place tonight."

Thomas pulled a small paper from his belt. He unrolled it, and read it aloud.
"Dear Mr. Sanders,

It is to my understanding, that your fort is low on supplies. In due time, you will receive a surplus of everything that you could possibly need, but unfortunately we are experiencing some disturbances with more... Important forts. You will receive your things soon enough.

-Davis"

He took the paper and replaced it in his belt.

"I, for one, would like to think that it's safe to assume that Davis is the Confederate president, Jefferson Davis. If you have any objections, please, to speak."

He continued, without any waiting for responses.

"We will be attacking this fort tonight. It is a few miles south of here. We strike by nightfall."

Thomas Dickinson, now pacing the room, looked to the Assassins, waiting for any questions.

Templar Leader

Jeremiah Sanders heard a familiar laugh of a well-known Assassin Hunter. He let out a low laugh and signaled for the guard to open the door. He saw Xia Cheng standing just outside the door.

"Come in, come in!" he said, and then saw Caroline enter. "Ah, Miss Reed, nice to see you!" He nodded to both of them in greeting, and stood up. He walked over towards the planning table, with a smaller version of the fort sitting upon it. He placed his hands upon the surface, leaning against it. He heard the voice of a familiar military leader, Patrick. When he spoke about flustering his men, Jeremiah looked up, his right eyebrow raised.

"'Scuse me, Patrick, but keep in mind this is my fort, not yours. These lovely women are here to help, so those men are there's too, while they're here." he grunted, and signaled for him to come in. "Now, I have heard the most disturbing news I have heard in a very long time. I have gotten word from a spy, that a particular group of Assassins plan to attack us. Now, I do not know when, or how, they will accomplish this, but we mustn't let it happen. I've called you here today, in hopes that you may help us protect the fort long enough for our new supplies to get here."

Jeremiah let out a laugh. "The supplies should be here very soon, president Davis loves me!"

Harold Tarry - Templar
A jolly old man walked down the road to the old fortress, giving citizens the tip of the hat from time to time with a smile. The Templar walked through the gates, giving the guards a friendly smile, walking past them casually. The guards remained unmoved, recognizing the geezer as one of the higher-ups. The old man had his white short hair on top of his head still at that age. He had a rapier attached to his belt as well as a musket. Tying the uppermost button of his shirt was a small cross-like symbol.
"The others are in the room, Mr Tarry," said one of the younger Templars inside the fortress, giving the man a respectful and curt bow. Tarry patted the man on the shoulder, smiling and walked into the room. He looked around, seeing that most of the others were there.
"Sorry I'm late, young'uns," he announced with a jolly tone with a weak british accent. "What'd I miss?"

---

Luca Antoine Celeste - Assassin
Luca took a step forward and spoke up, something he would rarely do. "Wouldn't it be better to attack this delivery first? If we take out their resources, which apparently aren't in the fort yet, we might have a better chance at taking over the fort," he suggested. He blinked a couple of times before continuing. "If it's not arriving today, we could just wait until we find the packages that are being delivered. We could even take out the convoy and disguise as the soldiers escorting the delivery, hide explosives to make a distraction and get the upper hand right off the bat." He looked at his seniors to see what their response would be for a second before stepping back.

Assassin Leader

Thomas looked to Luca, a curious look on his face.

"Excellent observation, Luca. That is a very good idea, but we could use this fort... now" he said, indicating the crumbling plantation. "This will forever be our home, but I think the Assassins could use a nice fort as a sign that we are not playing around. If we were to wait and attack the convoy, there's no telling if they will know us. By attacking tonight, we will be able to, hopefully, kill a good amount of them and convince them to surrender. After we get them to surrender, we can force them to let the convoy in, and get the supplies. That, my friend, is when we will attack the convoy. We'll get supplies, a few horses, carriages, and maybe even soldiers for the Union. Soldiers would earn us some trust from the government. Trust me, we need that."

Thomas looked to Luca, hoping that he understood.

---

Templar Leader

Jeremiah looked to Harold Tarry, who had just entered. Though older than most Templars, he was not to be overlooked.

"Ahhh, Harold, wonderful to see that you made it. I was just explaining the plan to the other guests, Caroline, Xia, and Patrick."

Jeremiah Sanders rubbed his hands together and repeated what he had told the others, so that Harold understood.

Caroline smothers her smug grin at Jeremiah's remark about the soldiers. It was nice to have at least one man not treat her like a delicate flower.

The veteran listens intently to her superior. If she was a naive woman who had never experienced the wrath of the Assassin's, she might have repeated the phrase used many times at the beginning of the war.

"We'll lick 'em easy."

Sydney's words on the day the war started sounded through her mind.

"How many should we expect?" Caroline suddenly asks, removing her distant eyes from her hands and looks toward Jeremiah. Caroline dreads the idea of being surrounded again, but this time, they might take her right eye as well. She'd become even more of a pariah, her beautiful face scared and unrecieved by anyone.

Daniel listened, and meanwhile processed the information. It was quite a different thing for him to take a shot at a straw target, let alone a group of men. But an entire fort? It seemed almost unthinkable. Daniel felt a little concerned with their safety, but seeing the dismal condition of the estate he knew that a new accommodations were in order. Then he asked "What group is taking lead?" He knew that no one in their sane mind would put him in the front. Daniel could hold his own against an opponent with a little confidence, but more than too and his chances of survival would diminish exponentially. This was why he probably was placed in the ranged division. Daniel waited for the master's reply.

Assassin Leader

Thomas looked over to Daniel. He seemed a little nervous, he could see it in his eyes. Thomas moved closer to him, staring him right in the eye.

"Well, I don't think any group in particular needs to take lead yet. We'll save that for a little later." Thomas nodded to him, and returned to his original place. He leaned back against the wall this time, though, and crossed his arms. "Rather than groups, we'll do it individually, considering the majority of you are only just learning the way of the Assassins," he eyed the newbies, "So. Mr. Reynolds, you will be taking the front. Assuming you can climb a wall, you will make your way over the eastern side. Odds are, they'll have a few soldiers up there with muskets. Careful when your climbing, so that they do not see you. You must take them out, and begin to work your way around the top of the walls. Luca, that's where you come in. Follow him up the eastern side and go the opposite way. Then, wipe out as many soldiers along the way as you can. But both of you, be quiet and stealthy. The slightest mess-up could kill us all. Giuseppe, you will go through the center. I want you to make your way from the southern wall to the northern. Stay up high. Rangers, you will stay up high and provide support from above. Anybody else, you will be down with me. We aim to keep at least twenty soldiers, so we will need to kill the majority of them there. I expect about fifty."

Thomas watched over the group, looking to see that they understood.

---

Templar Leader

Jeremiah looked to Caroline. That was a rather good question, he hadn't really asked himself that either. Though knowing the Assassins, they would not send an entire army. More of a small militia, if that.

"Expect the unexpected" was all he could say with certainty.

He gave the guards at the door a quick signal and they both nodded, leaving the room. A moment later, they returned with a man, hardly putting up a fight to the guards.

"Ah, and one more thing," Thomas announced, "They will be vicious, I'm sure. I doubt that silly leader of theirs had even bother to tell them, but they won't just want the fort.

Their considering this a rescue mission.

Caroline stared at Jeremiah, dazed at his last bit of information. Her heart twitched.

What could those bastards do other than kill? They had nothing against her father, but they killed him anyway. They shot Syndey in the head just because he was protecting his fiancé. God knows why they left her there. It's not like they didn't kill some women while raiding the plantation.

Caroline pushed her rage back down her throat, clenching her fist in her lap. Her blind eye started to burn a bit. She didn't have to ask why they'd think of it as a rescue mission. Pretentious bastards thought they were doing good to everyone.

Caroline toyed with the idea of pay back. Maybe she'll stab one of their eyes out to avenge her own, hm?

Patrick sat there fumbling with his hat as Jeremiah went over the situation only stopping to nod at harold as he entered. Soaking it in Patrick considered all the options fro the defense of the fort. that was until Jeremiah brought in the prisoner. looking at the man trapped between the two guards patrick relized the situation. looking up from his hat he looked at jeremiah inquisitively

"might we know whom this man is and his importance to us and the assassins? surely we could easily kill him if he has no used for us that will at the least get the assasins off our back for awhile."Patrick said pointing toward the prisoner."I am all for killing those bloody yanks but not when it is needlessly throwing the lives of our men away."

Luca Antoine Celeste - Assassin

The young boy remained unresponsive to the orders except for a slow and hesitant nod. He thought of demanding why they had to do the raid that night, seeing how waiting for the right time would allow them to take their enemies out much more easily. He glanced at Daniel, who would apparently be someone he'd have to work closely with even if just until they get up the wall. After that, they'd be on their own. It still made little sense. Still, he trusted Thomas Dickinson enough to believe he had his reasons for what he was planning.

Harold Tarry - Templar

"Hahaha! Sounds like an exciting event! What job would you have the old dog here do?" Harold asked Jeremiah, referring to himself. "I'm a bit too elderly to fight, you know."

Templar Leader

Jeremiah cleared his throat loudly before explaining. "This man is, as I'm sure you are aware, an Assassin. All Assassins are very close, no matter how important they really are. To be honest, I know nothing of this man's importance, but I do know that the Assassins will not rest until they assure his safety... Or his death. I've devised a plan, not only to defend out precious little fortress, but to rid ourselves of this little group of killers. By using this man as bait, we will draw the Assassins here. Patrick and Harold, this is where you come in. You will be part of our security. Watch for the Assassins with your troops, and when you get the slightest idea of their presence, tell me immediately. Caroline, Xia, you will be our main offense. I expect you know how to hunt an Assassin, so do so and bring them to me."

Jeremiah turned to look at Patrick and Harold specifically. "Ready your men soon. They will be Xia and Caroline's backup. Join them, for all I care. I just want these maniacs dead"

Caroline's stomach overfilled with joy at the word "dead." She stood, palimg her brother's Confederate war sword that sat dormantly under her dress.

She'd have to change into something more...permeable. Even the most southern female Templars couldn't fight off in a dress like this one.

"I shall prepare immediately, Sir."

James was unfortunately late due to problems he would rather not discus. He had just entered the kitchen in search for something to eat, but remembered that there was a meeting at that moment. He was torn, would he skip it and enjoy a meal, or would he go and miss a very enjoyable meal. Unfortunately, James had made an oath to the Assassins, and not only that, he owed them his life. Without them, he would still be a slave working for his white master in the unforgiving south, but the Assassins freed him, and this was his opportunity to repay his dept to them. Again unfortunately, James was still getting used to the life of a free man, and all the scars on his back and memories of the past were not helping him I'm the smallest of ways.

James walked into the main room of the house, which was already filled up with his fellow Assassins, although he was the only African American in the room, he still felt as if he belonged. " I'm sorry Thomas...everyone, food unfortunately got in my way of being here on time." he said gruffly with a slight southern accent in his voice.

Assassin Leader

Thomas looked over to the one who'd just entered. He frowned, eyeing him suspiciously. An Assassin late to a meeting, especially this one, was not acceptable. If he were not to get here in time, they could have already left.

"James, you are late..." he repeated the Assassin's words slowly. "You will be with me on this mission. We're going to take a Confederate fort tonight. Missing this could have put us in a dire situation. Next time, I shan't be so kind..." He then explained the plan once more.

"You will follow me, James, around the back. We'll make our way to the center and confront the fort leader. Mistakes will not be accepted."