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The Assas...
The bang of rifles echoed throughout the air. Musket fire ripped the ground. All around men screamed, in rage, pain and horror. The cannon fire tore through the air, sending a wave of dirt and people flying.
The grey early morning was struck with the smoke of the cannons and muskets. The damp dirt mingled with the smell of seared flesh and the odor of fallen soldiers. Bodies littered no man's land. The trenches became the graves of many a soldier.
The men crouched in the trenches as hell was razed around them. The uniforms marked the men as British Expeditionary Forces or parts of the French Fifth army. Over the course of four days, the Allied forces at been battering the barely withstanding German forces.
General Michel-Joseph Maunoury knelt, leaning against the wall of the trench. The Germans were giving a considerable amount of resistance, even though they were nearly beat. His troops were beginning to show the signs of exhaustion and even though they were defeating the Germans, his men were quickly losing morale.
Maunoury needed some way to rally his troops for one final storm of the trenches. He had already given one motivating speech, his best actually, which had pushed the Germans to the brink of retreat, but now the stalemate was drawing out.
Leaning against the wall of the trench, Maunoury heard, rather felt, the repetitive beat. The drumming on the ground of fast moving feet, coming from behind... hooves. Maunoury's brows drew together in concentration. They couldn't be reinforcements, there was only one set of hooves. Then what?
His question was answered as a horse shot over the gap and time seemed to still as Maunoury gazed at the lone rider jumping the three meter trench. The horse landed on the other side of the trench, not breaking from a full gallop.
Maunoury dared to poke his head out of the trench as the rider raced on towards no man's land, the area in between the two sides of trenches, filled with mines and in full view for the enemy's fire.
The rider was dressed similarly to the American uniforms, but instead of the standard issue helmet, the figure wore a hood. He also wore a short cape on his right shoulder that flapped in the wind as he crouched over his horse. He also had two swords at his hips and a gun tucked into the back of his belt.
As Maunoury watched, it was several seconds before anyone first saw the rider. A few began to shout in German and within a few more seconds, several dozen guns were pointed at the apparently suicidal rider.
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Plods of dirt were kicked up in his horse's wake and he began to hear the distinctive German cries of alarm.
Jack yanked on the horses reins as the first volley of musket fire ripped the air, the horse obediently responded, turning it's head as its rider ducked behind its head. The horse neighed in pain as the bullets ripped into it. Jack felt a stab of pain for the poor animal but it needed to be done.
A moment later his thoughts were forgotten as he jumped off the horse as it tumbled to the ground. Jack landed and rolled to disperse the impact and turn his downward momentum into forward momentum. A few stray bullets hurdled through the air as Jack ran full pelt to a small rock outcrop.
Jack jumped and slid to the small shelter as the second volley of fire streaked across the sky. He was merely a few meters from the German trench and seized the small lull in fire. He raced out of cover and sprinted towards the entrenched Germans.
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Maunoury watched, his calculating commander's mind running a mile a minute. A lone man, had just crossed no man's land and entered the trenches. Many of his men had seen the lone rider and eagerly peered over the dugout to see what they could of the brave- or foolish- rider. The Germans were distracted. It was now or never.
As Maunoury climbed the small ladder he shouted a rallying cry to his men. "Now men! Let's show these German cowards some real warfare!"
There was a loud roar as the combined British and French forces surged out of the dugout. They scrambled over the walls and ran through the open stretch of land towards the unsuspecting Germans.
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Jack dropped the human shield, barely registering the large roar of the approaching forces as he thrust his bayonet into his next target. Another German was approaching and Jack shoved the barrel of the gun through the dead enemy and pulled the trigger. The approaching German crumpled as the kickback sent the butt of the gun into an enemy behind Jack.
Dropping the gun, he made his way along the trench toward his target, leaving a trail of wounded and dead bodies. In the confine of the trench, and the nearness of comrades, the Germans couldn't risk shooting their own men, who were dwindling quickly.
Finally, Jack spotted his target, standing his ground and guiding the last vestige of courage to defend against the charging Allies. As a German thrust with his bayonet, Jack stepped lightly to the side and grabbed the barrel yanking it forward. While the man was temporarily unbalanced, Jack shoved the butt of the gun forward, in between the man's eyes.
Jack flipped the gun in the air, catching it by the handle and saw the target in his sights. He aimed right where he knew the cold, pitiless heart would be and fired. The bullet strayed a little, catching the commander in the upper left shoulder. He toppled off the small mound he was standing on and disappeared into the chaos.
Most of the Allied troops were now in the trench and Jack drew his two sword, approaching the spot where his victim had fallen. As the smoke and dust and dirt settled, he saw the man among a mass of disfigured bodies.
The commander drew a knife, a snarl on his dark face. Without effort, Jack kicked the weapon out of the man's hands. He knelt over the man and knocked away the flap of the man's jacket, revealing the Templar necklace. Next to it, was another strange artifact. Jack raised his sword, point down and drove it into the commander, killing him instantly.
Jack ripped off the artifact as he stood. He heard the cheers of the Allies' victory as German General Helmuth von Moltke screamed for his forces to retreat.
Many of the soldiers looked around for their lone rider to either berate him, or congratulate him. The rushed towards him as a wave of smoke and fog passed over him. Then he was gone.
This is pretty historically accurate, minus the Assassin and Templar. This was a real battle, real dates and real characters, again, minus the Assassin and Templar.
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So this outfit isn't in the right period, but the rest of it works, so I'm sticking with it. I may update it if I feel like it. But you get the general picture, right?
